#pulses packaging bags

[bankey-bihari]

Flexible Packaging Manufacturers in India | Bankey Bihari Packaging

Bankey Bihari Packaging is one of the best reputable Flexible Packaging Manufacturers in India specializing in PP woven packaging bags. Their expertise, customization options, and commitment to quality can ensure that your packaging meets your specific requirements and helps your products stand out in the market. Make the right choice and invest in flexible packaging that ensures the safety and success of your goods.

[nichromeafricapackagingmachine]

Nichrome’s grain packaging uplifting the agricultural industry in Africa

Nichrome is a leading packaging solutions provider with a wide range of food packaging machines for various industries. When it comes to grain packaging, Nichrome offers state-of-the-art packaging machines like the VFFS (Vertical Form Fill Seal) series, which includes the Sprint and Excel Plus series. These grain packaging machines are designed to cater to the unique needs of the African grain packaging industry, providing speed, accuracy, and efficiency while also being easy to operate and maintain. With Nichrome's grain packaging machines, manufacturers can improve their productivity, reduce labor costs, and enhance the quality of their packaged grains. 

Agricultural industry in Africa 

As the agricultural industry in Africa continues to grow, so does the demand for efficient and effective grain packaging solutions. Nichrome, a leader in the food packaging industry, is at the forefront of this movement with their innovative grain packaging machines. In this blog, we will explore the latest grain packaging trends in Africa and what works best for farmers and businesses. 

Grain packaging in Africa faces its own set of challenges and opportunities. Africa is a vast continent, with diverse climates, varied agricultural production, and different cultures. This presents both challenges and opportunities for the grain packaging industry. In this blog, we will explore the challenges and opportunities in grain packaging in Africa. 

Challenges 

1.     Poor Infrastructure: The still developing infrastructure in many African countries poses a significant challenge to the grain packaging industry. Poor road networks, limited electricity supply, and inadequate storage facilities make it difficult to transport and store grains. 

2.     Inadequate Financing: The high cost of grain packaging machines is a significant barrier to entry for many small-scale farmers and packaging companies. The lack of access to financing options makes it challenging for these businesses to invest in modern grain packaging technology. 

3.     Inconsistent Quality: The inconsistency in the quality of grains produced is a challenge for the packaging industry. The lack of standardization in the production process can lead to variable quality in the final product, making it difficult to package consistently. 

Opportunities 

1.     Growing Demand: With a rapidly growing population, the demand for grain products is increasing in Africa. The rise of the middle class has led to a shift in consumption patterns, with an increasing preference for packaged foods. With the growing demand, the supply also needs to increase. This is where Nichrome comes into play by providing the most high quality food packaging machines in Kenya. 

2.     Increase in Agricultural Production: Africa has the potential to become a major food producer in the world. With vast arable land and favorable climate conditions, there is a significant opportunity for the grain packaging industry to benefit from increased agricultural production. For the same, Nichrome provides high-end commercial food packaging machines that are capable of high output rate which are affordable & technologically advanced. 

3.     Technological Advancements: Technological advancements in grain packaging equipment have made it easier and more efficient to package grains. Nichrome offers advanced grain packaging machines which are one of the finest rice packaging machines, maize packaging machines, and wheat packing machines. These packaging machines for food products are built to package grains faster and more accurately. 

Vertical Form Fill Seal Machines by Nichrome 

Vertical form fill seal (VFFS) machines are becoming increasingly popular in the African grain packaging industry due to their efficiency and speed. Nichrome's VFFS machines are designed to handle a variety of grains, including wheat, pulses, and seeds. With customizable bag sizes and options for multi-lane packaging, these machines can pack up to 200 bags per minute, making them a reliable and cost-effective solution for commercial grain packaging. 

Nichrome is a leading provider of grain packaging machines in Africa. Our range of packaging machines includes rice bag sealing machines, grain packing machines, pulses packaging machines, and seed packaging machines. Our packaging machines are designed to meet the unique needs of the African market, and we offer a range of financing options to make it easier for small-scale farmers and packaging companies to invest in modern grain packaging technology. 

In conclusion, the grain packaging industry in Africa faces significant challenges, but also presents enormous opportunities. With the right investments in infrastructure, financing, and technology, the industry can meet the growing demand for packaged grain products and support increased agricultural production in the region. Nichrome is committed to supporting the growth of the grain packaging industry in Africa through our range of innovative and affordable packaging solutions.

[faebled-stories]

The Algorithm of Pleasure

Kinkvember Day 17: Massage

IVE's Ahn Yujin

AN: I said that the winter fic was the longest but this fic surpasses it, hope you all enjoy. Thank you for reading!💖

Yujin juggled her tote bag, phone, and a half-empty water bottle as she fumbled with her keys at the door. The strap of her bag kept sliding down her shoulder, and her fingers, stiff from hours of rehearsals, barely managed to grip the key. She cursed under her breath, jamming it into the lock harder than she meant to until the door finally clicked open.

As she stepped inside, her foot caught on the uneven lip of the doormat. She stumbled forward with a sharp gasp, her phone slipping from her hand and clattering onto the floor. For a moment, she just stood there, frozen in the doorway, her pulse pounding in her ears. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she leaned against the door, letting it swing shut behind her with a dull thud that sounded heavier than usual. The echoes seemed to magnify the weight pressing on her shoulders.

The day had been a relentless whirl of rehearsals, fan events, and a back-to-back schedule that left her feeling like a marionette whose strings had been pulled just a little too tight. Her limbs ached, her mind buzzed with half-formed thoughts, and all she craved was the sanctuary of her own space—a quiet evening to unravel the knot of tension that had tightened throughout the day.

Yujin bent down to retrieve her phone and kicked off her sneakers, which landed with soft thuds on the wooden floor, the sound muffled by the stillness of the apartment. She padded toward the kitchen, the faint hum of the refrigerator breaking the silence. Her stomach rumbled, but she was far too drained for anything elaborate. A bowl of instant noodles would do. She filled a pot with water, the sharp hiss of the stove’s flame lighting up against the bottom breaking the monotony of the quiet. The aroma of the noodles and broth soon wafted through the small space, warm and savory, wrapping around her like a comforting hug.

Carrying the steaming bowl to her sofa, she felt her muscles relax slightly, her body sinking into the plush cushions. The dim glow of a single lamp illuminated the room, casting long, soft shadows that made the space feel cocoon-like. She took her first bite, savoring the burst of salty and savory warmth on her tongue, when the sudden chime of the doorbell shattered her momentary reprieve.

The unexpected sound froze her mid-motion, her chopsticks paused halfway to her mouth. It was late—too late for visitors—and she wasn’t expecting anyone. A flicker of apprehension passed through her as she placed the bowl down on the low coffee table and moved towards the door.

The camera monitor displayed the figure of a delivery driver, clad in a reflective jacket, standing patiently with a large box balanced on a hand truck. His faint wave through the screen reassured her slightly. She buzzed him in, her curiosity piqued.

“Package for Ms. Ahn Yujin?” he asked, his voice steady but professional as he glanced at his paperwork.

“That’s me,” she replied, her tone uncertain as she opened the door wider to let him maneuver the oversized package inside. She hadn’t ordered anything recently.

“Who’s it from?” she added, her brow furrowing as her gaze darted from the large box to the driver.

He adjusted his clipboard, squinting at the label. “It says it’s from a Miss Kim Gaeul.”

Yujin’s breath caught for a moment, her confusion giving way to surprise. Gaeul? Her fellow group member? What could she possibly have sent? A flutter of warmth began to fill her chest as she signed the delivery form, exchanging quick pleasantries with the driver before closing the door behind him.

The package loomed large in her small entryway, a monolithic presence that seemed to demand her attention. She crouched down, running her hands over the plain cardboard exterior as if it might reveal its secrets. The weight of her day began to dissolve, replaced by a bubbling sense of anticipation.

Tearing through the tape and packaging, she found a neatly folded note resting on top of the contents. Her heart gave a small leap as she unfolded it, the familiar handwriting bringing an instant smile to her face.

"Yujinnie, I’ve noticed how stressed you've been lately, so I wanted to share something that always helps me unwind. These are hard to find, but I just got a new one, so I’m passing my old one on to you. I hope you don’t mind! Enjoy it as much as I did. XOXO, Gaeul unnie."

Yujin let out a soft laugh, the tension in her chest easing completely. Gaeul always had a knack for reading her like a book, for knowing exactly when and how to reach out. Her curiosity heightened, she peeled back the remaining layers of wrapping until the gift revealed itself.

A massage chair. And not just any massage chair.

It stood like a technological marvel, its smooth, dark leather gleaming under the apartment’s soft light. The futuristic design gave it an almost spaceship-like appearance, with seamless contours that hinted at an otherworldly level of comfort. Her fingers traced the stitching along the armrests, each seam meticulously placed. She noticed the padded leg slots, their grooves perfectly aligned to cradle calves and ankles, and the armrests equipped with flexible grooves that seemed to beckon her to try them.

The chair’s control panel glowed faintly, buttons labeled with options like “Neck,” “Back,” and “Full Body,” each promising tailored relief. She marveled at the attention to detail, the backrest designed to mold to the spine’s natural curve. Everything about the chair invited her to sink into its embrace.

Then she noticed it—a tiny tear in the leather near the edge of the seat, closer towards the leg slots. It wasn’t glaring, just a small imperfection, but it stood out in contrast to the chair’s otherwise pristine appearance. She ran her fingers over it, the rough edges of the tear catching slightly on her skin.

For a moment, a pang of disappointment flashed through her. Had it been damaged in transit? But the feeling was fleeting. The gift wasn’t just the chair itself—it was the thought behind it, Gaeul’s effort to ease her stress. That realization filled her with gratitude.

“It’s just a small flaw,” she whispered, her lips curling into a gentle smile. She stepped back, taking in the full sight of the chair once more. It wasn’t perfect, but neither was life. It was real, thoughtful, and exactly what she needed. And tonight, she decided, she would let it work its magic.

The chair loomed like a portal to another world—a world unparalleled relaxation and peace. The sleek contours of its design seemed almost otherworldly, the polished leather glinting softly under the ambient glow of a nearby lamp. Yujin’s gaze lingered on it, her anticipation building. Just looking at it felt like an invitation, a promise of comfort that she couldn’t wait to explore.

Her fingers brushed over the armrest, noticing how it seemed to mold perfectly to her arm, almost like it was designed to cradle her in place. As she traced its contours, her hand slipped into a discreet slot nestled within the leather, grazing something cool and papery hidden inside. Curious, she pulled it free—a worn, slightly yellowed manual with curled edges and faint smudges on the cover.

The scent hit her as she flipped it open, a strange yet oddly familiar musk mingled with the faint aroma of aged paper. It clung to her skin as she skimmed the manual’s brittle pages, her eyes catching on a bold section titled: “For Best Results.” She paused, the faint, unplaceable familiarity of the smell lingering in her mind like a whisper she couldn’t quite hear.

Her lips quirked into a small, amused smile as she read the next line: “Skin-to-seat contact is recommended for maximum effect.”

“Well, they’re serious about this ‘maximum effect’ thing,” she murmured, rolling her eyes with a soft chuckle. The idea was ludicrous—who stripped down for a massage chair? Still, the thought lingered, hanging in the air like a suggestion she couldn’t quite ignore. If she was going to indulge in this gift, why not get the full experience?

The chair waited patiently, its imposing presence almost daring her to follow the manual’s advice. Yujin hesitated only for a moment before shrugging, a faint blush warming her cheeks. Gaeul’s thoughtfulness deserved her full commitment, no matter how silly it felt. Smiling to herself, she began unbuttoning her shirt, the tiny clicks of each button a soft rhythm in the quiet apartment.

As the fabric slipped from her shoulders and fell to the floor, the cool air of the room kissed her skin, raising goosebumps that rippled along her arms. Piece by piece, she let the day’s weight fall away, shedding her clothes until she stood bare before the chair. For a moment, a thrill of vulnerability ran through her—both strange and exhilarating. Her skin tingled in anticipation as she turns to face the chair, its smooth, dark surface now seeming even more inviting.

Yujin lowered herself slowly, the leather cool against her warm skin, sending a pleasant shiver down her spine. The initial contact was startling, the texture of the material silky yet firm, cradling her body like a second skin. As she adjusted her position, the contours of the chair seemed to welcome her, perfectly aligning with her frame.

The snug fit was uncanny, as though the chair had been designed with her in mind. Her back pressed gently into the cushioned support, her shoulders nestling into their designated slots. She felt her legs slip effortlessly into the padded grooves, the dividers between them cuddled her inner thighs, firm but yielding, grounding her in place. 

For a moment, Yujin simply sat there, letting the chair’s embrace envelop her. The tension she had carried all day seemed to ebb away, replaced by the soothing pressure of its contours holding her securely. She exhaled softly, a small smile playing on her lips as she prepared to experience the full promise of Gaeul’s thoughtful gift.

Hovering a finger over the glowing control panel, Yujin hesitated for a moment before selecting the “Standard Massage” mode. A soft chime acknowledged her choice, and immediately, a gentle warmth began to spread beneath her. The sensation radiated upward, starting low on her spine and moving in soothing waves that rolled through her body. The warmth was delicate yet enveloping, like sunlight filtering through a thick canopy of trees, melting away the knots of tension that had clung to her muscles all day. She exhaled deeply, her breath carrying away the remnants of stress as the chair worked its magic.

A low, rhythmic hum filled the air, blending seamlessly with the soft ambiance of her apartment. The chair began to vibrate, subtle pulses rhythmically traveling up her back. Starting from her hips, the vibrations danced their way to her shoulders, each motion perfectly calibrated, as if guided by the hands of a master massage therapist. The gentle kneading felt intentional, targeting every sore spot, each ache carefully attended to. Her body responded instinctively, muscles softening and loosening with each pass of the rollers, as though the chair was coaxing her into a state of complete relaxation.

As the chair shifted focus, Yujin’s awareness narrowed to the sensation at her thighs. The rollers moved delicately but decisively to her inner thighs, an unexpected yet blissful addition to the experience. The gentle pressure massaged the tender, often-neglected muscles, drawing a soft, contented sigh from her lips. She hadn’t realized how much tension she had been holding there, and now that it was being released, a new layer of relaxation washed over her. The cushioned divider, which had once felt unfamiliar, now seemed like an anchor, grounding her body in place and creating a cocoon of perfect support.

Her head lolled back against the padded rest as the chair’s motions expanded to her entire body. Her feet were cradled in soft grooves, the rollers gently pressing and kneading her soles with an almost intuitive precision. Her calves were embraced by warm cushions that squeezed and released in a rhythmic pattern, encouraging her circulation to flow effortlessly. Her arms rested snugly in the grooves of the armrests, where subtle vibrations massaged her forearms, releasing the strain of holding microphones, signing autographs, and the countless gestures that filled her daily life.

As the chair worked, it seemed to choreograph its movements to a perfect rhythm. Her back, her neck, her shoulders—all were attended to with the same deliberate care. The rollers pressed firmly yet comfortingly into her shoulder blades, dissolving the knots that had taken root from hours of rehearsals. The soothing warmth emanating from the chair now felt like an extension of her own body heat, wrapping her in a sensation so familiar and comforting it bordered on intimate.

Her mind began to drift, each kneading motion drawing her further away from the chaos of her routine. She let out a soft, contented hum as the chair worked its way up to her neck. Here, the motions were slower, more deliberate, each gentle knead feeling like an eraser sweeping away not just physical tension but the weight of her thoughts. The fatigue that had been clinging to her mind for weeks began to evaporate, leaving behind a serene clarity.

As her eyes fluttered shut, a smile spread across her face, unbidden and pure. In the darkness behind her lids, she pictured Gaeul’s kind expression, her unnie’s ever-thoughtful gaze. The memory filled her heart with warmth, and a wave of gratitude washed over her.

“Thank you, unnie,” she whispered, her voice soft, almost reverent, as though Gaeul might somehow hear her. It wasn’t just the chair she was thankful for—it was the care, the love, and the understanding behind the gesture.

The massage cycle continued, the rollers moving seamlessly back down her body. Her calves were squeezed gently, each motion precise and unhurried. Her feet were kneaded with soft pulses that released tension she hadn’t realized had built up. The chair seemed to know exactly where to focus, working in perfect synchrony with her body’s needs. By now, the warmth radiating through the cushions had synced with her own heat, creating a sensation that felt like an all-encompassing hug.

The low hum of the chair’s movements became a steady backdrop, blending with the quiet stillness of the apartment. Yujin’s thoughts grew lighter, her worries dissipating like smoke in the breeze. Every knead, every vibration, every wave of warmth carried her further into a cocoon of peace, until the outside world felt like a distant memory. Her breathing slowed, deep and even, matching the hypnotic rhythm of the chair’s motions.

As the final rollers worked their way back to her shoulders, pressing gently but firmly one last time, Yujin felt the last vestiges of tension dissolve. Her mind floated free, unburdened and light, cradled by the chair’s tender embrace. For the first time in weeks, she had found a moment to simply be—to exist without demands, without expectations.

Her lips curved into a smile, her chest filled with quiet joy. Gaeul’s gift wasn’t just an object; it was an escape, a sanctuary from the relentless demands of her life. As the chair continued its gentle rhythm, she let herself drift further into its embrace, surrendering to the pure, blissful calm that enveloped her.

Just as Yujin thought she had experienced the full range of the chair’s abilities, a subtle shift behind her head caught her attention. Something soft brushed against her nape, and she opened her eyes in surprise. Two rounded cushions extended smoothly from the headrest, their movement deliberate and precise, almost like the slow, purposeful gestures of a living being. They angled downward, adjusting with meticulous care until they rested gently against her chest, cupping her with a delicate firmness that made her pause.

The sensation was startling—unexpectedly intimate in a way that caught her off guard. Her breath hitched for a moment as she processed the feeling. It wasn’t what she had anticipated from a machine; the touch was warm, almost human, as though a pair of hands were there, offering comfort she hadn’t realized she needed. For a fleeting moment, hesitation crept in, but as the cushions began to apply a steady, rhythmic pressure, that hesitation melted away. The lifelike touch wasn’t invasive; it was soothing, reassuring. The chair seemed to understand her unspoken needs, its gentle persistence inviting her to trust it fully.

As Yujin exhaled, her body softened into the cushions’ embrace, her head tilting back to rest against the padded headrest. The rhythmic pressing and releasing felt like a pulse, a calming tempo that resonated through her chest. She could feel the tension unwinding there, knots she hadn’t even known existed slowly dissolving under the cushions’ steady care. Each rotation seemed to unravel another layer of stress, sending ripples of relaxation through her upper body. A quiet sigh escaped her lips, unbidden, as the cushions pressed a little lower, their focus shifting with seamless precision.

The sensation grew more enveloping, wrapping her chest in a comforting warmth that felt less like a machine and more like a gentle, heartfelt hug. It was deeply reassuring, the kind of embrace that coaxed her body into a profound state of bliss. Her shoulders eased further into the chair as the steady kneading rhythmically matched the rise and fall of her breathing, syncing with her as if it could sense her every exhale. There was nothing cold or mechanical about the touch—it felt deliberate, almost personal, like the chair was attuned to her, understanding her without the need for words.

Yujin let her eyelids flutter closed, surrendering to the hypnotic rhythm. The cushions pressed and released, their soft rotations creating waves of sensation that rolled through her chest, each one drawing her deeper into relaxation. Her heartbeat slowed, steadying itself to the same measured tempo as the cushions. She felt cradled, cocooned in a bubble of perfect calm, where even the faint hum of the chair blended into the background as a soothing melody.

“How could unnie keep this a secret?” she murmured softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. A small, lazy smile formed on her lips as the thought lingered. This wasn’t just a massage chair—it was a revelation, an experience so immersive and thoughtful that it felt tailored exclusively for her. Did Gaeul truly know how transformative, how utterly mesmerizing this would be? A faint blush warmed Yujin’s cheeks as the realization set in, but she was too relaxed to dwell on it.

The cushions continued their rhythmic dance, pressing firmly and retreating with perfect timing, guiding her breathing into an effortless flow. Her chest rose and fell in harmony with the chair’s movements, her muscles melting further with every rotation. Her body felt weightless, supported and nurtured, as though the chair was holding her in a gentle, unbreakable embrace. She allowed herself to sink deeper, letting go of any lingering reservations and surrendering entirely to the chair’s touch.

Time seemed to blur as Yujin drifted into a serene haze, her thoughts fading into the background. The steady motion of the cushions lulled her into a state of blissful stillness, her mind clear, her body completely open to the soothing sensations. It was more than physical relief—it was emotional. She felt a quiet gratitude blooming in her chest, a sense of appreciation for Gaeul’s thoughtfulness that filled her heart as warmly as the chair cradled her body.

As the cushions continued their gentle rotations, pressing and releasing in a hypnotic rhythm, Yujin found herself suspended in an oasis of tranquility she hadn’t realized she so desperately needed. It wasn’t just relaxation; it was liberation from the weight she carried, a sanctuary she had been gifted without asking. Smiling softly, she let herself drift further, enveloped in the chair’s warm embrace and the silent comfort of Gaeul’s kindness.

Yujin settled deeper into the chair’s embrace, her body slack and her mind adrift in the profound ease it provided. The tension that had gripped her muscles earlier was now a distant memory, unraveled by the chair’s expert touch. Yet, as comforting as the experience was, a small spark of curiosity stirred within her. She found herself wanting something more—something that might carry her further into this unexpected sanctuary of relaxation.

Her gaze drifted lazily over the glowing control panel. Among the familiar settings, her eyes caught on a small button she hadn’t noticed before. It was marked with a curious symbol, two delicate waves interlocking, their looping design imbued with an almost hypnotic allure. She tilted her head, studying it, the symbol tugging at her attention. The manual had mentioned “advanced features” in passing, but at the time, she hadn’t given it much thought. Now, under the chair’s warm, enveloping touch, the temptation to explore further grew stronger.

“Guess it couldn’t hurt to try…” she murmured softly, her voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. Her finger hovered over the button, lingering for only a moment before pressing down with quiet resolve.

The chair responded immediately. The gentle hum beneath her deepened, shifting into a richer, resonant tone that seemed to pulse through the seat, low and steady, like a heartbeat. The vibrations slowed, their rhythm becoming more pronounced, as though the chair were focusing its energy with deliberate precision. The warmth she had felt earlier began to intensify, settling lower along her body. It pooled in her thighs, radiating outward in waves that pressed gently yet firmly against her bare skin.

Her breath hitched at the shift in sensation, her cheeks warming as she registered the chair’s unmistakably intimate touch. For a moment, she froze, caught off guard by the unexpected direction the experience had taken. The heat continued to pulse gently, the rhythm steady and inviting. Her initial instinct to pull back clashed with the growing curiosity that rooted her in place. Her body seemed to respond instinctively to the chair’s rhythm, the warmth stirring something low in her belly—a mixture of intrigue and an undeniable sense of ease.

The sensation deepened as the cushions at her chest began to adjust. Their movements, once soothing and general, became more focused and deliberate. The circular pads pressed down again, their slow, rhythmic rotations drawing her attention. They traced patterns against her chest, their touch precise yet comforting, synchronized with the deeper vibrations beneath her. Each rotation seemed purposeful, the soft pressure coaxing her body to relax even further.

A quiet gasp slipped from her lips as the cushions brushed over her more sensitive areas, the sensation sharper and more vivid than she had anticipated. The padding moved in deliberate, gentle circles, carefully calibrated to her body’s contours. It was as though the chair understood her needs without her having to articulate them, its touch intuitive and attuned to her most tense and tender places. Her breathing quickened, shallow at first, before evening out into a slower, deeper rhythm as the warmth in her chest grew, spreading outward in soft, languid waves.

“What kind of machine is this?” she whispered, her voice barely audible, a breathy question carried away by the stillness of the room. The sensations were so precise, so deeply immersive, that they felt almost human—like an unseen presence was there, devoted entirely to her comfort. She considered sitting up, pulling away, but the thought felt distant, her body too deeply at ease to act on it. The warmth and pressure seeped into her muscles, leaving them soft and pliant, as if the chair was unraveling her layer by layer, coaxing her to let go completely.

Each time her thoughts turned to resisting, the chair seemed to adjust with uncanny accuracy, shifting its vibrations and kneading motions to draw her back in. The steady, deliberate rhythm became impossible to fight. It wrapped around her like a blanket, pressing against her body in all the right places, unrelenting yet gentle. The heat blooming in her chest flowed down to her core, spreading outward in a way that felt grounding, stabilizing, as though she were being gently tethered to the present moment.

Her mind wavered, caught between the fleeting impulse to pull away and the growing desire to surrender fully to the experience. Each motion of the chair seemed to whisper to her, coaxing her into deeper relaxation. The steady pulse of the cushions against her chest matched the rolling vibrations beneath her, creating a seamless, hypnotic rhythm. Her heartbeat slowed to match its tempo, her breaths coming in time with each press and release, each wave of warmth. The sensation was all-consuming, leaving her body weightless and her thoughts suspended in a tranquil haze.

As the chair worked with deliberate care, Yujin’s senses seemed to heighten and blur all at once. Her body melted further into the seat, yielding to the touch that had become impossible to resist. The chair held her in its expert embrace, each motion pulling her closer to a state of total calm. Her muscles softened completely, her worries dissipating like vapor, until all that remained was the comforting rhythm and the warmth cradling her from within.

With each passing moment, Yujin felt herself slipping further into the chair’s hold. The sensations, the warmth, and the steady rhythm wove together, creating a space of pure serenity. Letting go of the last threads of resistance, she allowed herself to be carried away, surrendering fully to the comfort enveloping her. Whatever this chair was—whatever Gaeul had seen in it—it was more than she could have imagined.

As the sensations intensified, Yujin’s body instinctively reacted, her hands moving to push herself up, to regain a sliver of control over the overwhelming experience. But just as she began to shift, something brushed against her wrists. The touch was startling—soft, silken, and almost weightless as it encircled her skin with a surprising swiftness. Her breath caught as she felt the delicate material wrapping around her, firm but gentle, holding her in place with a touch that seemed purposeful.

Startled, she glanced down, her wide eyes taking in the sight of thin, shimmering cords emerging from the sides of the chair. They looped gracefully around her wrists, binding them snugly to the armrests. The restraints didn’t bite into her skin; instead, they felt secure, almost comforting in their deliberate hold. Yujin tugged gently, testing their strength, but the cords tightened subtly in response, their pressure firm yet unyielding. The message was clear: escape was no longer an option.

“What… what is this?” she whispered, her voice trembling, barely audible over the low hum of the chair. Her breathing quickened, her chest rising and falling as she tried to process the surreal sight. Bound by something so inanimate yet so undeniably purposeful, she felt an intimate vulnerability she hadn’t expected. The chair, once a comforting haven, now seemed to take on a persona of its own, as if it were in control of the moment. There was an undeniable thrill in the realization, her pulse quickening with the rush of emotions coursing through her.

Just as she tried to shift her legs, she felt the same silken sensation brush against her ankles. She froze as more cords emerged, looping deftly around her bare skin and pulling her legs firmly into place against the padded footrests. The bindings were seamless, their hold just as gentle yet unyielding as those around her wrists. Yujin tested them, her toes curling instinctively as the restraints held her firmly, leaving her utterly exposed.

The restraints heightened everything she felt, amplifying her awareness of the chair’s every motion. No longer able to shift or pull away, she was forced to surrender fully, her body completely exposed to its attentions. The vibrations beneath her thighs deepened, their rhythm deliberate and unrelenting. Each pulse resonated through her core, sending waves of warmth radiating outward. The sensation was electric, her skin alive with the intensity of the experience. She gasped softly, the heat within her building in time with the vibrations, every pulse driving deeper, leaving her breathless.

As her head tilted back against the chair, Yujin’s breathing hitched, her body responding involuntarily to the unrelenting sensations. The air around her grew heavier, and she caught the faint scent she hadn’t noticed before—a musky, intoxicating aroma that clung to her skin and seemed to saturate the space. Her cheeks flushed as she realized its source: her own arousal, exposed and undeniable in the stillness of the room.

The realization hit her like a wave, her body betraying her real feelings as the scent hung in the air, unmasking the truth she had been unwilling to face. Vulnerable and laid bare in every sense of the word, she shivered under the intensity of the chair’s embrace. The vibrations, the bindings, and the unmistakable scent of her arousal all converged into a singular, undeniable truth: she enjoyed this, even if she tried to deny it.

Her eyes fluttered shut as the chest cushions resumed their kneading motions. This time, their touch felt more focused, more precise. They pressed into her chest with slow, deliberate rotations, the pressure measured and exact. Each movement seemed to mirror the pulsing vibrations below, creating a synchronized rhythm that left her completely captivated. Her toes curled involuntarily as the cushions circled over her most sensitive areas, coaxing her body to respond. The sensations overlapped, layering upon one another in a way that left her overwhelmed and yet completely drawn in.

Bound and unable to escape, Yujin felt her breathing quicken again, each shallow gasp evidence of her growing sensitivity to the chair’s relentless rhythm. The cords at her the end of her limbs reminded her of her helplessness, holding her firmly in place, forcing her to remain still as the chair’s touch grew more intimate, more consuming. Each pulse, each knead, was magnified tenfold, pulling her deeper into the chair’s hold, making it impossible to think of anything but the sensations coursing through her.

Her body melted under the chair’s control, her muscles soft and pliant as warmth bloomed within her. The overlapping motions—the chest cushions, the pulsing vibrations, the heat radiating from beneath her—created a dizzying cycle of sensation that consumed her entirely. Yujin’s mind spun, caught between the impulse to resist and the growing pull to surrender fully. Despite the vulnerability she felt, or perhaps because of it, there was a strange exhilaration in the experience, an undeniable thrill that left her breathless and flushed.

Just as she thought the sensations couldn’t grow more intense, her instincts flared, urging her to stop the chair’s relentless rhythm. Gathering her strength, she strained against the bindings, her fingers fumbling to reach the glowing control panel. The angle was awkward, her movements clumsy, each effort only emphasizing her bound state. Her fingertip grazed the buttons, desperate to press the “Stop” command.

But in her haste, her finger slipped. Instead of ending the cycle, she accidentally pressed a smaller button beside the one she had activated earlier. The chair’s response was immediate. A deep, mechanical hum reverberated beneath her, the sound low and resonant, carrying a purposeful tone. Yujin froze as she felt something firm and warm pressing against her lower body. The sensation was unmistakable, and her eyes widened in shock.

Her breath hitched as she realized the source of the pressure. It was emerging from the slit she had earlier dismissed as a flaw. What she thought was a minor tear in the chair’s leather now revealed itself to be something far more deliberate. The object was firm, its warmth radiating through her in a way that left her stunned, her thoughts racing as the chair continued its relentless rhythm, pulling her deeper into its grasp.

She couldn’t see it, not from her seated position, but the sensation left no room for doubt: something firm and perfectly contoured pressed against her, aligning with a precision that felt unnervingly intentional. Her breath hitched, the air catching in her throat as a deep blush bloomed across her cheeks. Her mind raced, grappling with the surreal experience. “Wait… no…” she whispered, the words faint and trembling, as though she barely believed them herself.

Bound securely to the chair, she was powerless to move, the silken restraints holding her snugly against the chair. She tugged reflexively, testing the cords, but they responded with quiet firmness, keeping her in place. Unable to shift, unable to retreat, she was left entirely at the mercy of the chair’s calculated design. All she could do was feel—her senses heightening as the firm shape pressed forward, its slow, deliberate motion leaving her more aware of her vulnerability with each passing moment.

The object moved deeper, its progress unhurried and precise, as if it understood exactly what it was doing. Yujin’s breath stuttered, her body tensing as the sensation reached an unfamiliar height. A tremor coursed through her as her mind reeled, her awareness narrowing to the singular, startling sensation that resonated throughout her frame. She could feel every inch of its ascent, her body hyperaware of the slow, deliberate progress. The firm presence pressed upward with startling clarity, carving deeper than she thought possible.

Her muscles tightened instinctively as she felt it reach what she believed to be her absolute limit. Her breath hitched, her body trembling with the unfamiliar pressure. “That’s it,” she thought, her mind grasping at the certainty that there was no way it could go further. But just as her body began to adapt, the object ascended further, its movements precise and unrelenting.

The realization sent a jolt through her as it stretched her just a bit more, coaxing her to accommodate what she didn’t think she could. Her mind reeled, disbelief warring with the undeniable sensations. It knew her body better than she did, inching upward with unerring patience, measuring her capacity with mechanical certainty. Yujin’s breath shuddered, her skin prickling as warmth bloomed low in her abdomen, her body trembling as it yielded reluctantly to the measured intrusion.

Her bindings held her firmly in place, ensuring she had no choice but to endure every agonizingly precise moment. Each new height sent waves of sensation radiating through her, amplifying her awareness of just how much she could take. The object finally paused, giving her a moment to adjust to the overwhelming fullness, but her heart pounded as she realized it had stopped only to press just a fraction further, testing her once more.

As she sat motionless, her pulse quickened, and her cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and astonishment. “I’ve never…” she murmured, her voice barely audible, as though speaking the words might make the experience feel more real. Her heart pounded as she strained to process the sheer intensity of the moment, her thoughts flitting between disbelief and a growing sense of intrigue.

Just as her body began to adapt, the sensation shifted subtly. The firm presence pulsed faintly, its motion so slight that it felt almost teasing. Yujin’s eyes widened, her breath catching again as the feature seemed to expand with a slow, measured pressure. The gradual increase was slight at first, but every inch brought a new, undeniable awareness. Her muscles tightened instinctively, resisting the unfamiliar stretch, only to relax again as warmth radiated through her, coaxing her body to yield.

The sensation grew with excruciating precision, each incremental adjustment sending ripples of awareness through her. Her body strained to accommodate the increasing width, the warmth of the feature spreading outward, suffusing her limbs with a tingling, electric heat. She could feel the depth with startling clarity, every inch adding to the fullness that threatened to overwhelm her. The expansion felt unrelenting but controlled, a careful test of her limits that pushed her closer to the edge of what she could endure. Her breath grew shallow, each exhale trembling as she fought to adapt to the overwhelming fullness.

With each pause and subtle adjustment, the chair seemed to monitor her, its design attuned to her responses. The faint tremors in her breath, the tightening of her muscles—each reaction seemed to guide its movements, the expansion halting just shy of overwhelming her. The patience in its rhythm was undeniable, its unhurried persistence coaxing her body to surrender inch by inch.

When the feature finally stopped, its fullness left her breathless. Yujin sat still, completely attuned to the sensation, her body alive with awareness. Bound as she was, there was no escape from the intensity of the moment, no way to shift or adjust to ease the unfamiliar pressure. All she could do was feel—the depth, the warmth, the perfect precision with which the feature fit. Every nerve seemed alive, her senses attuned to the faintest shift, the gentlest vibration. Her thoughts blurred as the sensations consumed her, leaving her caught between astonishment and reluctant acceptance

And then, just as she thought she could adjust to the absurd fullness, the chair began a steady, rhythmic motion, drawing back towards her entrance only to push to the same depths as before, each motion precise, powerful, filling her completely. Her body trembled, overwhelmed by the chair’s meticulous design, every thrust magnified by her bound wrists and immobilized state. Every movement felt calculated, pushing, pressing, and filling with a rhythm that left her breathless.

Her earlier thoughts of resistance faded as her body surrendered fully, sinking deeper into the experience, lost to the rhythm that consumed her.

Bound in place, Yujin felt her breathing quicken as the chair’s movements intensified, every pulse and vibration perfectly tuned to her body’s responses. The object inside her moved with a steady rhythm, each thrust reaching that unprecedented depth, while the circular chest cushions rolled and tugged gently on her sensitive skin. The vibrations from the seat pulsed through her, each sensation building upon the last, working in perfect harmony to push her closer to the edge.

As the sensations mounted, she felt her muscles tighten, her mind struggling to keep pace with her body’s growing need. The depth of the toy filled her completely, leaving her no room to escape, no space to breathe. Each motion was slower than the last but powerful, deliberate, driving into her with a force that left her gasping, her body helpless against the precision of the chair’s movements.

“Oh… oh god…” she whispered, her voice barely audible as her body arched, pressing back into the seat. The feature pushed deeper, reaching a place that left her stunned, every thrust brushing over spots she hadn’t realized were so sensitive. Her hands strained against the restraints, and a soft, involuntary moan slipped from her lips. “Oh… fuck…”

The intensity increased with each movement, her body straining as the chair continued its relentless rhythm. The chest cushions pressed in harder, rolling over her nipples, their rotations perfectly synchronized with the objects motion. Each press and pull of the cushions sent jolts of pleasure straight down to her core, leaving her trembling as her breathing grew shallow and her muscles began to tense in anticipation.

The vibrations beneath her pulsed faster, amplifying each thrust until her senses were engulfed by the heat and pressure building within her. “It’s… it’s so deep…” she gasped, her voice trembling as the feature pressed to her absolute limit, sending shockwaves of sensation through her.

The rhythm quickened, the sensations stacking on top of each other, drawing her ever closer. Her body began to react instinctively, muscles tightening as she lost herself to the overwhelming pleasure. Each time she thought she might catch her breath, the chair seemed to adjust, intensifying its movements, pushing her past what she thought she could handle.

“Oh… god, I…” she whimpered, her thoughts scattering, words slipping out as she felt herself approaching the brink. “I can’t… it’s too much…” But her body betrayed her, pressing deeper into the chair’s touch, her last defenses melting away as the chair’s unrelenting design left her no room to resist.

Her pulse raced as the attachment reached her limit, filling her completely, while the chest cushions tugged and rolled her nipples with unyielding precision. Every nerve was alive, each touch, each vibration pushing her further. The intensity was all-consuming, flooding her senses until she could think of nothing else, her entire body caught up in the inescapable rhythm that drove her steadily toward release.

“Oh…Fuck…” Yujin gasped, the words spilling from her lips before she could think. Her body tensed, every muscle tightening as she felt herself reaching a peak, the sensations overwhelming her with their intensity. Her vision blurred, her thoughts scattering as she teetered on the edge, a shudder coursing through her as she finally surrendered to the overwhelming flood of feeling. The release washed over her like a wave, her body arching instinctively as the crescendo of sensations surged through her.

Her breath came in shallow, uneven bursts, her chest rising and falling as the last remnants of the moment ebbed away. The chair’s movements began to slow, its rhythm softening, the vibrations fading into gentle pulses that allowed her to catch her breath. The chest cushions loosened their grip, their kneading touch easing, as though the chair were guiding her back down from the intensity she had just experienced. Yujin slumped back into the seat, her limbs heavy, her mind hazy with exhaustion. The tension that had gripped her moments ago dissolved into a tranquil calm, leaving her utterly spent.

For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to sink into the stillness, her senses dulled, her mind adrift in the aftermath. The low hum of the chair became a soothing backdrop, its faint vibrations lulling her into a sense of peace. She assumed the experience had reached its end, her body basking in the quiet relief of calm.

But as her breathing slowed and her muscles began to relax, a calm, synthetic voice broke the silence.

Fluid capacity not reached. It stated evenly, the tone mechanical and indifferent.

Yujin’s eyes snapped open, her mind jolting into alertness as the words registered. Not reached? Her thoughts raced, trying to make sense of the statement, but before she could process it fully, the chair’s hum deepened. The vibrations beneath her intensified without warning, their strength catching her off guard. Her breath hitched as the sensations returned with a sudden, insistent force, the precision of the movements leaving no room for reprieve.

The chair seemed to come alive with renewed purpose, its rhythm more deliberate, each pulse stronger and more calculated than before. The feature within her resumed its motion, its presence undeniable as it moved with unrelenting precision. Each thrust pressed into her with a focus that pushed her limits, targeting areas already heightened and sensitive from the earlier experience. Yujin’s breath quickened, her body reacting instinctively to the machine’s persistence, her mind struggling to keep up with the intensity.

The seamless design of the chair continued its work, its movements perfectly synchronized to overwhelm her senses. She could feel every shift, every vibration, as the chair seemed to measure her responses, adapting its rhythm to ensure she couldn’t escape its hold. The experience became all-consuming, every sensation building upon the last, pulling her deeper into its relentless rhythm.

Her body, still quivering from her first climax, was instantly overwhelmed by the onslaught. “Wait… stop, oh fuck!” she gasped, her voice breaking as the feature pressed forward, deeper than it had before, ignoring the boundaries it had previously measured. She felt it push against her in a way that left her breathless, her entire form trembling as the pressure intensified. Her limbs strained against the restraints as she tried instinctively to move, but the chair held her completely still, its rhythm relentless.

“Oh god… please, stop…” she whimpered, but the chair showed no sign of slowing. The feature drove deeper, inch by inch, surpassing the limits it had mapped out before, testing her body’s capacity in a way that left her mind spinning. Each thrust seemed to stretch her in ways she hadn’t known possible, every sensation raw and amplified as the machine pushed her further.

The feature pulsed with a new, unrelenting rhythm, driving into her with a force that left her breathless. She gasped, her voice cracking, “No… wait, it’s… it’s too deep… fuck!” Her body instinctively tensed, her senses heightened as the pressure built within her, her nerves lighting up under the strain. Desperation took hold as she tried to lift her hips, arching away from the relentless ascent of the feature, but the chair seemed to read her like a book. The moment she shifted, it surged upward with calculated precision, matching her movements and pushing her further than she thought possible.

Her muscles tightened in protest as the depth became almost unbearable, her gasps turning into soft cries. The bindings around her wrists and ankles responded seamlessly, holding her firmly in place and preventing her from retreating. The relentless precision of the feature left her helpless, her body forced to meet every inch of its advance. Each adjustment, each movement seemed deliberately designed to draw her deeper into the sensation, leaving her trembling with the effort to endure it.

The vibrations intensified, pulsing faster, sharper, each one a shock to her overstimulated nerves. She felt herself slipping further, her breaths shallow, each thrust pressing her to her absolute limit. The relentless rhythm, the merciless depth—it all merged into one overwhelming sensation that left her gasping for air. “No, please… stop!” she cried out, but the machine gave no response, its synthetic indifference all too clear as it continued, unyielding.

The chest cushions returned, pressing firmly over her chest, the circular pads rolling and tugging her nipples with a fierceness that left her whimpering. Each pull was calculated, precise, dragging her deeper into the chair’s control as her sensitivity spiked. The combination was too much; her body felt trapped, bound in a cycle of unending sensation, each pulse, each thrust driving her closer to the edge of what she could endure.

As the device drove even deeper, a sudden surge of vibration coursed through it, adding an intensity that sent shockwaves through Yujin’s overstimulated body. Her head tilted back, a breathless gasp escaping her lips as the sensation mounted, leaving her helpless against the chair’s brutal rhythm. Every thrust felt precise, unrelenting, each movement pushing her closer to an edge she hadn’t known existed.

Control slipped away entirely, her senses overloaded by the relentless pace. Her body, raw and hypersensitive from the first climax, twitched with every pulse, fresh waves of pressure radiating through her. The rhythmic motion of the chair seemed inescapable, calculated, dragging her beyond her limits. She clenched her fists against the restraints, her breath coming in shallow bursts as her body teetered precariously on the brink of release once again.

The attachment surged with sharper movements, its upward thrusts forcing her to accommodate more. She tried to lift her hips, arching away from the overwhelming depth, but the chair was relentless. It responded as though reading her intentions, pressing further and holding her firmly in place, denying her any escape. The chest cushions tightened against her, the circular pads tugging at her nipples with a methodical precision that left her gasping for air.

The relentless rhythm worked in tandem with the vibrations below, targeting her most sensitive nerves. Each pulse drove into her, the sensations layering until every nerve felt exposed, raw, and alive. “I can’t…” she whispered, her voice breaking under the strain, the words tumbling out unbidden. Her hips strained instinctively, but the device refused to relent, the rhythmic ascension reaching depths she didn’t know she could endure. A heavy warmth bloomed deep within her, a pressure she couldn’t contain, spilling over into every inch of her body.

Her breathing grew erratic, her voice trembling as she choked out fragments of disbelief. “It’s too much…” she whispered, her words dissolving into breathy gasps. The device pulsed faster, its movements pushing her further into a space where sensation overtook thought. Heat spread like a fire through her limbs, pooling low as her body arched reflexively, caught in the machine’s relentless control.

The vibrations below seemed to sync perfectly with the rolling pressure on her chest, drawing her sensitivity to a dizzying peak. Her mind blanked, her body responding with a vulnerability she couldn’t suppress. The sensation of fullness became all-encompassing, a rhythmic wave cresting deep within her. She felt the tension building, a powerful swell that left her trembling. “It’s… happening… oh…” she stammered, her voice barely audible as the climax surged through her.

In the instant of release, the sensations reached their crescendo, the chair driving her to a shattering peak. A sudden, warm rush overtook her, unrestrained and unanticipated. The liquid sensation cascaded down her thighs in slow, deliberate streams, the unexpected release leaving her breathless and stunned. Her lips parted, a soft gasp escaping as her body responded instinctively, her awareness overwhelmed by the unrelenting sensations.

“Oh… my god…” she murmured, her voice trembling as the aftermath left her quaking. The warmth traced a path down her skin, a physical reminder of the vulnerability of the moment. Each pulse from the chair amplified the rawness she felt, leaving her suspended in the quiet, electric stillness. Her mind reeled, struggling to grasp the depth of what she’d just experienced. “I… can’t believe it…” she breathed, her cheeks burning as she lay motionless, entirely exposed to her own release.

The rhythmic hum of the chair softened, its motions slowing as though recognizing her limits. The attachment eased, withdrawing as Yujin’s breathing remained uneven, her chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. Her limbs felt heavy, her mind hazy, the echoes of sensation still pulsing faintly through her body. The quiet aftermath enveloped her, the room thick with stillness as she basked in the overwhelming intimacy of the experience.

Then, the silence was broken by a calm, synthetic voice that cut through the haze.

Fluid capacity reached, it announced smoothly, its tone measured and indifferent.

The words hung in the air for a moment, their stark neutrality a strange contrast to the intensity Yujin had just experienced. As the chair’s movements slowed further, the vibrations beneath her eased into a soft, barely perceptible hum. The hidden feature retracted gently, its motion precise and unhurried, leaving her body to settle into stillness.

Her limbs were released as the silken restraints retreated into the chair, their hold disappearing as swiftly as it had appeared. For the first time in what felt like hours, Yujin’s arms fell freely to her sides, her hands brushing lightly against the smooth leather of the chair. She slumped back, her body sinking into the seat, utterly spent. Her limbs felt like lead, heavy and unresponsive, as her breathing slowed and steadied in the soft silence that enveloped the room.

Her mind remained adrift, hovering somewhere between disbelief and quiet awe. The chair, now still, seemed to cradle her with a newfound gentleness, its presence less commanding, more like a silent guardian allowing her to recover. In the quiet aftermath, Yujin could feel the echoes of the experience lingering in her body, her senses heightened, her thoughts distant. The world outside her apartment seemed impossibly far away as she lay there, her body and mind consumed by the memory of what had just unfolded.

Exhausted yet glowing from the intensity of the experience, Yujin lay still, her body basking in the lingering warmth. A faint smile tugged at her lips as her chest rose and fell in steady, calming breaths. The moment felt surreal, the sensations still imprinted on her skin, her muscles tingling with the aftereffects. Every part of her felt both weightless and grounded, as if the chair had unraveled not just her physical tension but the unseen burdens she had carried.

The chair’s steady hum, which had seemed so commanding moments ago, finally faded into silence. She exhaled a long, trembling sigh, letting her head fall back against the soft headrest. Slowly, the silken restraints around her wrists loosened and retracted into the armrests, freeing her from their gentle grip. She flexed her fingers, feeling the return of her movement, though she made no effort to rise. Instead, she sank deeper into the chair, savoring the quiet that enveloped her and the profound sense of calm radiating through her body.

Her gaze drifted toward the control panel, now illuminated and unobstructed, glowing softly in the dim light of the room. The warmth of the chair still cradled her, its presence comforting and steady. As her fingers reached for the panel, her touch was deliberate but light, her body still heavy with the afterglow. A small digital prompt caught her eye: “Session Complete. Save Profile?”

Curiosity flickered through her, cutting through her lingering exhaustion. Without much thought, she tapped the screen, her fingers brushing lightly over the display. The prompt changed instantly, confirming the save under her name. Yujin smiled faintly, imagining how convenient it would be to return to this exact setting in the future.

But as the screen updated, something else appeared—a second profile listed just beneath hers. The name on the screen made her breath catch in her throat: Kim Gaeul.

Yujin’s heart skipped a beat as she stared at the unassuming text. Her unnie’s name sat there plainly, as if it had been waiting for her all along. She blinked, a ripple of intrigue spreading through her as the implications settled in. “Unnie’s profile?” she murmured, her voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. The discovery was unexpected, and yet it sent a quiet thrill coursing through her.

Her fingers hovered over Gaeul’s name, hesitating for just a moment before tapping it. The screen flickered, and a detailed list of settings unfolded before her. With each line, her eyes widened, her pulse quickening as she took in the descriptions.

Heat: Wax simulation.The words stopped her cold, her breath catching in her throat. Yujin hadn’t realized the chair could simulate such sensations, let alone that Gaeul would have chosen it. She pictured the sensation, the warm, teasing precision of wax, and felt a flush creep across her cheeks. The thought of her unnie exploring something so daring sparked a mix of surprise and intrigue. Gaeul, bold and composed as ever, had used this chair for more than just relaxation.

Size: Length 11 inches, width 3 inches.Yujin blinked, her face growing warmer as she read the numbers. Her own session had felt overwhelming, and yet Gaeul had opted for settings far more intense, far more challenging. The audacity of it left Yujin momentarily stunned, her mind racing as she tried to imagine her unnie embracing something so extreme. A faint shiver ran through her as her curiosity deepened, the idea stirring a quiet but persistent flicker of warmth low in her belly.

Vibrations: Max.A soft laugh escaped her lips, incredulous and tinged with awe. She had barely endured the chair’s standard settings, yet Gaeul had chosen the highest possible intensity. The thought sent a ripple of admiration through Yujin, mingling with a sense of disbelief. Her unnie’s boldness seemed boundless, and Yujin couldn’t help but wonder what it had felt like—what Gaeul had experienced in the chair’s unrelenting embrace.

Texture: Ribbed.Her breath hitched as her eyes scanned the words, her imagination immediately conjuring the sensation. The thought of ridges dragging against her overstimulated body made her stomach flip, her cheeks burning brighter as she shifted slightly in her seat. The deliberate pressure and tactile detail the texture promised left her wide-eyed, her lips parting as a soft exhale escaped her. Gaeul’s choices weren’t just bold—they were designed for an intensity Yujin hadn’t dared to consider.

Clitoral focus: Targeted stimulation.The line of text felt stark, almost clinical, but its meaning hit her like a wave. Her thighs tensed reflexively as she imagined the precise, unrelenting pressure this setting would deliver. The thought left her both apprehensive and intrigued, the memory of her body’s hypersensitivity flashing through her mind. “Unnie really… tried all this?” she murmured, her voice trembling with disbelief.

Her gaze moved down the list, catching on the next line.

Breast stimulation: Spanking mode.Yujin’s eyes widened, her cheeks flushing a deep pink as her breath hitched. She hadn’t even noticed this option during her own session, and its revelation left her momentarily speechless. The idea of Gaeul, composed and unflinching, choosing such a provocative setting sent a cascade of emotions through Yujin—shock, intrigue, and a hesitant thrill. Gaeul’s choices hinted at a side of her unnie that Yujin had never considered—a side that was uninhibited and unapologetic.

Double Penetration.Yujin froze, her heart racing as she processed the words. The chair could accommodate such a complex configuration, and Gaeul had chosen it. The implications left Yujin flushed, her thoughts swirling as she imagined the experience, the unrelenting intensity of it. Her mind raced with questions: What had Gaeul felt? What had she thought? Her unnie’s confidence and boldness seemed almost unfathomable, and yet it made Yujin’s pulse quicken.

Her fingers hovered over the option to begin the profile, her chest rising and falling as the room seemed to close in around her. The AI’s synthetic voice interrupted the silence, calm and steady:

“Profile of Kim Gaeul. Would you like to begin?”

The question sent a shiver through Yujin, her senses attuned to the chair’s warmth beneath her. The mere idea of following in her footsteps, of stepping into her unnie’s world, left Yujin breathless. The chair seemed to hold its own quiet intensity now, as though Gaeul’s presence lingered within it, beckoning her to experience everything as she had.

For a moment, Yujin simply sat there, her heart pounding, her body tingling as she considered the choice before her. A small, unsteady smile played on her lips, her breath quickening despite the exhaustion pooling in her limbs. The glowing screen before her seemed to pulse with an inviting warmth, urging her to explore every sensation her unnie had so carefully crafted. Even after everything she had just been through, the allure of experiencing what Gaeul had designed was undeniable. Her mind buzzed with a mix of curiosity, nervous anticipation, and a lingering heat that she couldn’t entirely shake.

The chair, its quiet hum now silent, seemed to watch her in waiting. The faint ache in her muscles from the previous session only added to the surreal allure of the moment, a reminder of the intensity she’d just endured. Yet, against that fatigue, her curiosity burned brighter.

Taking a shaky breath, she tapped Yes

The AI’s calm, detached voice broke the silence: “Profile of Kim Gaeul. Initiating session.”

The chair hummed to life with a low, resonant vibration that seemed to echo in her chest. The sound was deep, almost hypnotic, and carried a weight that seemed to coil inside her. Slowly, the seat tilted backward, cradling her body as it reclined further than before. The movement left her startlingly exposed, her limbs slack against the armrests as the leather adjusted to her frame with a disarming intimacy.

A wave of warmth began low on her spine, rolling outward in deliberate pulses that seemed to seep into her muscles. It was subtle at first, almost teasing, but the intensity built with each passing second, spreading along her skin like molten wax.

Heat: Wax simulation. The words came calm and detached, breaking the silence like a command, just as the warmth settled deeper, teasing her nerves and pulling a faint gasp from her lips.

Yujin’s breath hitched. The warmth wasn’t just heat—it carried weight, a tactile presence that seemed to knead her muscles as it crept lower, flowing down her thighs and curling around her hips. Her muscles fluttered involuntarily as the sensation radiated upward, unfurling across her chest. She bit her lip, her head pressing back into the chair as the sensation deepened.

“It’s so… warm,” she whispered, her voice tinged with awe and disbelief. “Oh god, it feels like it’s everywhere…”

The pulses grew sharper, each one drawing her body further into submission. Her skin flushed as the heat nestled deeper into her muscles, coaxing her tension away even as her heart raced faster. It was intimate, calculated, every ripple designed to tease her in ways she couldn’t ignore. A soft moan escaped her lips as the heat lingered, her body reacting instinctively to the deliberate precision of the sensation.

Without warning, the vibrations surged to life, sharp and commanding, cutting through the haze of heat. The chair’s mechanisms adjusted seamlessly, delivering powerful pulses that hummed deeply into her.

Vibrations: Max. The clinical voice contrasted starkly with the visceral reaction wracking her body, as though indifferent to the way her body jolted against the force.

The vibrations seemed to wrap around her, their intensity rolling through her in rhythmic waves. They blended with the lingering warmth, amplifying the sensation until her entire frame felt alive with electric energy. Her hands curled against the armrests, her breath shallow as the relentless hum sent shockwaves through her body.

“It’s so much,” she murmured, her voice trembling as she struggled to process the overlapping sensations. “I can’t—oh, I can’t…”

The pulses climbed higher, sharper, targeting every inch of her with unrelenting precision. Each wave sank deeper, teasing her nerves into a maddening crescendo.

A new sensation jolted her. Without warning, a delicate pressure closed around her clit. Yujin yelped, her hips jerking as two small prongs adjusted to sit snugly against her most sensitive spot. They pinched lightly, just enough to make her gasp, before beginning a rhythmic vibration that was sharp and devastatingly precise.

Clitoral focus: Activated. The voice followed as though commenting on her quivering form, the prongs already driving her sensitivity to the brink.

The targeted stimulation sent sparks through her body with each relentless pulse. Yujin squirmed in place, her thighs trembling as the dual sensations built rapidly. The subtle pinch added an edge she hadn’t anticipated, heightening every hum and vibration until she could barely breathe.

“Oh… oh god,” she stammered, her voice breaking into shallow gasps. The vibrating prongs seemed to sense her sensitivity, alternating between steady pulses and teasing pauses that left her whimpering.

The sharp, rhythmic taps of the chest cushions came next, catching her off-guard and dragging her deeper into the chair’s grip. Each strike landed with calculated force, perfectly in time with the vibrations below.

Breast stimulation: Spanking mode. The phrase lingered in the air, both clinical and provocative, as if the chair itself reveled in her reactions.

Yujin whimpered, her chest heaving as the alternating taps struck her in perfect rhythm with the vibrations below. The sharp stings jolted her senses, contrasting starkly with the warmth and hum that had engulfed her moments before. She gasped as the taps shifted, alternating between quick bursts and deliberate pauses, leaving her body quivering with anticipation.

“Why does it feel so—ah!—so good…” she managed, her voice breaking into a moan. The rhythm built unpredictably, each strike sending a rush of heat through her chest that traveled downward, syncing with the relentless vibrations.

Before she could process the overwhelming stimulation, something firm pressed against her, unyielding and deliberate. The chair’s mechanisms shifted again, and the feature advanced slowly, pushing deeper inch by inch.

Double penetration. Size: Length 11 inches, width 3 inches, ribbed texture. The voice was even and unflinching, delivering the details as though narrating its own meticulous work.

The ridged surfaces dragged deliberately against her walls as the feature moved, each textured inch teasing her nerves and leaving her breathless. The combination of fullness and texture was maddening, each ridge catching against her hypersensitive body as if designed to drive her over the edge.

Yujin’s trembling hand moved instinctively to her belly, brushing against her taut skin. She froze, her fingers trembling as they met the faint bulge pressing outward. Her eyes widened, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as her chest heaved. The realization of just how deeply the chair had claimed her sent a flush of heat spiraling through her.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief. “I… I can feel it—everything. It’s too much…unnie how do you do it?”

The dual features pressed deeper inside her, their ridged surfaces dragging against her in maddening synchrony. The vibrations grew sharper, blending with the relentless rhythm as her body yielded inch by inch. Her legs quivered, her toes curling instinctively as the fullness swelled inside her.

The clitoral prongs pulsed again, sharper now, sending shocks through her core that made her cry out. Her body arched helplessly as every sensation layered into an unrelenting symphony. Despite the overwhelming onslaught, there was a part of her—a small but undeniable part—that leaned into it. The intensity blurred the edges of her thoughts, pulling her deeper into the consuming waves. Her gasps came unbidden, her lips parting to release a soft moan, as much from pleasure as from the crushing force of the sensations.

The settings merged seamlessly, each feeding into the next to bring her to the brink again and again. The ribbed texture dragged deliberately against her, each ridge sparking jolts of unbearable sensitivity through her body. The vibrating prongs on her clit teased mercilessly, the sharp pinch heightening every pulse that coursed through her. The spanking pads struck her chest rhythmically, their sharp, stinging taps blending with the lingering heat of the wax simulation that clung to her skin like molten silk.

It was too much—her body barely had time to adjust to one sensation before another surged to the forefront. And yet, as overwhelming as it was, it wasn’t pain; it wasn’t torment. Her body responded with raw, instinctive fervor, trembling and tightening as it gave itself over to the overwhelming bliss. Every tap, every pulse, every thrust of the ridged surfaces filled her with an almost unbearable euphoria that she couldn’t deny.

The fullness stretched her impossibly, the ridges teasing her with deliberate precision, while the warmth radiated outward, softening her resistance. The vibrations at her core rippled through her entire frame, blending seamlessly with the targeted pulses on her clit. Her mind spun with the chaos of it all, but her body betrayed her, leaning into the rhythm, craving more even as her trembling thighs threatened to give out.

Her body arched instinctively, her breath catching as the rhythm tightened, faster and more deliberate, pulling her toward the peak with relentless determination. The heat, the sharp taps, the ridged texture—they layered together, each sensation feeding into the next, creating an unrelenting cycle of pleasure that left her trembling and helpless.

“Oh… oh god… I can’t—” she gasped, her voice breaking into a strangled moan. The overwhelming symphony of sensations blurred the lines between pain and pleasure, leaving her lost in the chaos. And yet, as her head tilted back and her lips parted, her cries took on a note of desperate, unabashed need. She was being consumed, but somewhere deep inside, she didn’t want it to stop.

Her body quivered violently, her thighs shaking as the intensity built to an impossible crescendo. The climax approached rapidly, her hypersensitive body teetering on the edge, unable to resist the relentless onslaught. The fullness inside her surged deeper, the ridged texture scraping perfectly against every nerve it touched, while the prongs on her clit pinched and pulsed in a final, devastating rhythm. Her fingers clawed at the armrests, knuckles pale and trembling as she braced herself, her entire body taut with anticipation, the wave of sensation poised to crash over her.

And then it shattered.

The climax ripped through her with unrelenting force, her body seizing violently as the release consumed her. Her back arched sharply, her breath caught in a ragged, desperate cry that broke into gasping moans as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her. The fullness, the heat, the stinging taps, the relentless vibrations—all of it collided into a single, overwhelming surge that obliterated her senses, leaving her utterly undone.

Her cries echoed in the room, raw and unrestrained, as her body shook with the force of her release. Her hands tightened around the armrests, her legs trembling as the relentless rhythm prolonged the peak, drawing every ounce of sensation from her trembling form. The waves began to ebb slowly, leaving her chest heaving as her gasps turned to shallow, broken breaths.

Her body sagged into the chair, her muscles slackening as the aftershocks flickered faintly through her. Every inch of her was hypersensitive, her nerves alive with the echoes of what had just consumed her. Her mind swam in the haze, her thoughts incoherent as her body quivered in the chair’s unyielding embrace.

Just as she thought the chair might relent, the voice cut through the haze, calm and clinical:

Fluid capacity not reached.

The words were punctuated by an immediate escalation. The vibrations intensified, deeper and sharper, the ridged textures dragging mercilessly against her hypersensitive body with mechanical precision. Yujin gasped sharply, her head rolling back as the chair resumed its relentless rhythm. The heat surged again, radiating through her body like molten fire, coaxing every nerve back to life despite her exhaustion. Her muscles twitched involuntarily, her body caught in the unyielding rhythm that refused to stop.

The fullness returned, pressing impossibly deeper, stretching her with ruthless precision. The ridges scraped against her overstimulated walls, igniting sparks of sensation that left her trembling violently. The vibrations pulsed in perfect sync, their overlapping waves building into an unbearable crescendo. Yujin whimpered, her fingers twitching weakly against the armrests as she was forced to endure the escalating pressure.

Her breath hitched sharply as the rhythm quickened, the chair driving her closer and closer to another peak. The sensations surged with a force that eclipsed the first, each calculated motion dragging her higher. Her body arched instinctively, her thighs trembling as the vibrations intensified, the sharp pulses and searing heat blending into an all-encompassing storm.

The second peak loomed suddenly, massive and all-consuming. Her lips parted in a soundless cry as the sensations crested, the relentless rhythm pushing her closer to the breaking point. Her mind spiraled, thoughts dissolving into incoherent haze as her body convulsed. The climax broke over her like a tidal wave, wrenching a strangled moan from her lips as her back arched violently. The fullness inside her swelled impossibly, every nerve ignited in a final, explosive release.

But it didn’t stop.

The sensations refused to relent, their intensity crashing over her without mercy. Yujin’s body bucked helplessly against the chair, her hands clawing at the armrests as her breath came in frantic, shallow bursts. Her vision blurred, the edges of the room dissolving into a haze of swirling lights. The vibrations became muffled, distant, as though her ears were submerged underwater.

Her pulse thundered in her head, drowning out everything else. Even the heat—the unyielding molten fire radiating across her skin—faded into numbness as her body reached its absolute limit. Her legs quivered uncontrollably, her chest heaving as her muscles spasmed one final time. The prongs on her clit delivered one last, devastating pulse, sending a jolt through her body that shattered the remnants of her awareness.

Her head snapped back against the chair, her mouth falling open in a blood-curdling scream that tore through the room before cutting off abruptly. Her entire body stiffened for a single, agonizing moment before collapsing entirely, her limbs falling limp against the chair.

Her breathing slowed, uneven and shallow, her lips parting in a final, trembling gasp as the overwhelming sensations consumed her. A wave of darkness descended, muffling everything—the vibrations, the heat, the ridges, the rhythm—until she felt nothing at all.

Yujin went completely limp, her body unresponsive in the chair’s relentless grip.

The AI’s voice returned, calm and clinical, cutting through the oppressive silence:

User unresponsive. Warming protocol initiated.

The chair’s mechanisms halted immediately, its relentless rhythm ceasing with mechanical precision. The features began to retract, their motions slow and deliberate, withdrawing carefully to avoid disturbing her limp form. The leather cushions shifted, adjusting to cradle her unconscious body with meticulous care.

Then, the warmth began. A soothing heat radiated from the cushions, spreading across her skin in slow, undulating waves. The earlier intensity was gone, replaced by a tender embrace that coaxed her muscles into relaxation. The chair’s presence, once commanding and overwhelming, softened into something protective, wrapping her in a cocoon of comfort.

Yujin’s chest rose and fell faintly, her breathing shallow but steady. Her body trembled softly with the residual echoes of sensation, her skin flushed as the warmth soaked into her muscles. The control panel’s glow dimmed, its light fading to darkness as the room settled into stillness.

The AI’s voice did not return, its task complete for now. The chair hummed quietly, its mechanisms reduced to a faint purr as it stood sentinel over her unconscious form. The relentless force that had pushed her to her limits had vanished, replaced by a serene and protective presence. In the quiet, Yujin lay utterly still, cocooned in warmth and care as the session reached its tranquil conclusion.

The room fell into complete silence, save for the faint, rhythmic hum of the chair’s dormant systems. The stillness was heavy, blanketing the space in an almost ethereal calm. Yujin remained motionless, her body surrendered entirely to the chair’s protective embrace. Her chest rose and fell faintly, her breathing a soft whisper in the air, her flushed skin glowing dimly in the muted light.

Her hair was a wild, tangled mess, damp strands clinging to her forehead and cheeks, a testament to the intensity she had endured. Smudged makeup streaked down her face, dark trails of mascara tracing the paths of the tears that had streamed from her eyes. Her lips, parted slightly, were swollen from the gasps and cries that had torn through her. The soft lighting cast shadows over her features, accentuating the exhaustion etched into her expression—a mix of raw vulnerability and complete surrender.

Her body trembled faintly, her muscles slackened but still quivering with residual aftershocks. Her folds were flushed, the delicate skin red and sensitive from the unrelenting stimulation. A pronounced sheen of arousal still glistened on her inner thighs, the aftermath of a storm that had left her utterly spent. The chair’s earlier precision left her backdoor gaped, the stretched opening a reminder of the fullness that had overwhelmed her.

The scent of her arousal lingered in the air, thick and undeniable, mingling with the faint warmth radiating from the chair. It clung to the stillness like a ghost of the storm that had subsided, saturating the quiet space with a lingering intimacy that was almost tangible.

The faint aroma of the instant noodles she had prepared earlier, once warm and savory, had been completely overpowered. What remained now was raw, primal—a potent reminder of the intensity that had unfolded. It dominated the air, overwhelming the earlier comfort of her small meal with the undeniable mark of her surrender.

The chair’s hum softened even further, its purring vibration fading into near silence, as if giving her space to recover. The leather adjusted beneath her, shifting delicately to cradle her limp form more closely. It held her without force, a silent sentinel watching over her slackened body.

The atmosphere felt heavy yet serene, charged with the echoes of what had transpired. Yujin lay utterly still, her body utterly spent, her mind adrift in a haze far from the quiet room. The world beyond continued on, oblivious to the storm that had raged within these walls. But here, time seemed suspended, as though the room itself held its breath.

And then, the stillness was broken.

A faint buzzing sound cut through the quiet, low at first, then insistent. Yujin’s phone, discarded on a nearby table, vibrated over and over, the glow of the screen casting faint pulses of light in the darkened room. The name flashing across the display was unmistakable: Gaeul Unnie.

The phone continued to buzz, the sound blending with the faint hum of the chair. The rhythm of the vibrations felt deliberate, persistent, as though demanding her attention even in her unconscious state. The air seemed to shift subtly, the charged stillness giving way to something else—anticipation.

And yet, Yujin remained unmoving, her body cocooned in warmth, unaware of the calls that continued, unanswered, as the room watched silently over her.

[pin-k-ink]

NOISE COMPLAINT ★ KOZUME KENMA

DAY SEVEN ➵ kenma’s neighbor’s the total package—sweet, sexy, and always bringing him dinner like it’s nothing. only problem? the walls are thin, and he’s stuck hearing every second of your late-night hookups. so, he gives you two choices: cut out the noise or bring it straight to him.

cw ➵ dírty talking, teasing, sexúal tension, manhàndling, fingéring, pet names, praise kínk, unprotected séx, mastúrbation, making out, squírting

wc ➵ 6.5k

kinktober masterlist

The muffled thump of the headboard slamming rhythmically into the wall stirred Kenma from his restless slumber. His eyes snapped open, pulse immediately kicking up in dreadful recognition.

Another night, another disturbance bleeding through the paper-thin walls from your apartment.

Even without straining his ears, Kenma could make out the unmistakable sounds - breathy feminine whimpers escalating into desperate cries of rapture...strangled masculine grunts punctuating the squeaking bedsprings...a raunchy symphony of skin slapping against sweat-slicked skin in primal desperation.

He groaned defeatedly into his pillow, already shifting amid the tangled bedsheets as familiar tendrils of heated arousal began lapping through his veins despite his misery. The wearied bags under his eyes seemed to throb in time with the steadily increasing tempo of those obscene noises filtering through the walls.

How many nights had it been now? Three weeks? Four? Kenma had long since lost track of the innumerable bouts of interrupted sleep thanks to your nightly...activities. All he knew for certain was that his admittedly gorgeous new neighbor had ushered in an era of unrepentant sex noise pollution mere days after moving in.

At first, he'd tried to simply tune out the rhythmic slap of headboards and feminine keening in polite embarrassment. You'd seemed so lovely and sweet upon your first meeting - demurely introducing yourself and offering warm smiles while explaining the little homecooked meals you enjoyed preparing for neighbors were just your way of making friends.

Kenma couldn't deny a part of him looked forward to those casual hallway interactions with your radiant presence each week, eagerly anticipating the casual brush of fingers as you passed off those tupperware containers still warm from the oven. Your mere existence exuded such an effortless warmth and caring aura, it was difficult not to bask in your light.

Which made the mortifying initiation into your...nocturnal hobbies that much more shocking upon its inaugural event.

The first time those gasping cries of bliss punched through the stillness and burbled into Kenma's apartment had nearly made him choke on his Mountain Dew. He distinctly remembered pausing his game, whipping his head around in stunned search of the source, only for a particularly lewd crescendo in your orgasmic bliss to solve the mystery.

Heat erupted across Kenma's face and throat in a scalding wave, making his ears ring with visceral clarity of each panted syllable punching through the walls at that moment. His mind's eye immediately conjured the accompanying visuals almost by autonomic instinct - your form convulsing in throes of rapture, radiant features contorted into a rictus of pleasure as a lean, sweat-slicked man plunged relentlessly betwixt your lewdly parted thighs.

Kenma shook his head feverishly, attempting in vain to dislodge the unsolicited glimpse into your most intimate moments. Yet the more frantically he fought against the sensory assault, the more insistently those lascivious details seemed to burn themselves into his consciousness.

In the weeks since that first incident, he'd settled into a torturous routine of being subjected to your impassioned lovemaking sessions through the thin wall separating your living spaces. Each night more partners, more feverish cries, more lurid noises that seeped into Kenma's subconsciousness and bloomed into vivid erotic imaginings he couldn't quite scrub away no matter how desperately he tried.

It didn't help that you seemed to make zero effort to stifle or restrain your amorous escapades, even in deference to respecting your neighbors' needs for undisturbed rest. If anything, the lack of inhibition and abandon with which you flung yourself into intimate pleasures only further stoked Kenma's lurid fascination.

You, the sweet-natured neighbor who cooked him hearty soups and delivered his mail with a smile, indiscriminately enjoyed night after night of mind blowing sex right next door. What's more, by Kenma's rapidly dwindling calculations, you appeared to have a healthy rotation of lovers filtering through to satiate your endless hungers.

Kenma swallowed thickly against the throb pulsing insistently in his throat as you cried out in trembling euphoria once more, that sultry cry shredding through the thin walls and engulfing his feverish cocoon of rumpled sheets. Try as he might to convince himself otherwise, his overwrought body simply refused to remain indifferent to the live pornographic soundtrack mere feet away.

You always did possess a certain magnetic allure, after all - one that initially drew his curious gaze whenever passing you in the halls. Those effortlessly tousled locks framing your radiant features...the serene, perpetually contented expression that put him in mind of a sated feline...the artful swell of your feminine slopes beneath casual clothing, all lush inviting curves just begging to be mapped and—

Kenma bit back a strangled whimper as your husky exhalations spiked up a fevered octave, punctuated by gruff masculine grunts of exertion in tandem. He could practically see your heaving forms through the drywall - those shapely legs scrambling for purchase against rippling masculine musculature...the frantic undulations of your torsos joined at the hips, driving that thick intrusion deeper with each ravenous surge...

"F-Fuck..." he hissed through gritted teeth, shoving one sweat-dampened hand beneath the elastic waistband of his shorts and fisting his swollen cock with aching desperation.

There was no denying the visceral reality any longer. Not when every punched-out whimper and throaty keen from your direction insistently transfigured itself into lurid flashes of you — gloriously nude, hair wild, curves glistening with a sheen of ecstasy as you coiled around whomever's form currently stretched and claimed your tender passages in long, unhurried strokes.

Kenma bit down harder against his plush lower lip until he tasted copper, frantically pumping his dick in time with the obscene rhythms driving the bedsprings into a squealing cacophony mere feet away. Wanton imaginings swamped his consciousness until he swore those velvet cries and muffled snarls resonated directly in his ringing ears.

His jaw slackened around a soundless howl as release detonated at his core like a cascading eruption, hips jerking in desperation as if seeking to bury himself to the root inside your honeyed embrace. Wave after rippling wave of ecstasy crashed over Kenma's nerve endings, leaving him slick and utterly spent, his harsh panting mingling with the tapering aftershocks of your mutual sated bliss.

At least until the inevitable guilt and shame could ebb back in alongside your even breathing slipping back to repose...

"Nnngh..." Kenma groaned in delirious agony, dragging his ruined palm down his sweat-sheened features in vain hopes of scrubbing away the delicious images. "How the fuck am I ever gonna look you in the eyes again after this...?"

But even as he squeezed his eyes shut against the blistering tides of remorse, Kenma couldn't erase the exquisite sensory memories seared behind his fluttering lashes this time. Of you - his sweet neighbor, his considerate friend - transcending all notions of purity and utterly immolating him upon your pyre of salacious rapture unwittingly night after night...

Kenma jolted awake to the intrusive rapping of knuckles against his front door, grimacing as the foggy vestiges of a mere few hours' rest still clung to his consciousness. He pried open bleary eyes to the dim glow of late afternoon filtering through the drapes - courtesy of another marathon night spent tossing and writhing in his own torment.

Even through the thick haze muffling his senses, the unmistakable scent of heavenly spices and savory aromas tickled his nostrils insistently. Kenma groaned in weary realization, scrubbing his hands through his disheveled hair as he forced himself up onto unsteady feet.

With the crisp recollections of the previous night's indulgent fantasies still playing on an endless loop behind his eyes, the very last person Kenma wanted to confront was the living, breathing catalyst itself currently standing on the other side of that door.

But his rumbling belly betrayed him with an insistent pang, fully aware that only one person could be responsible for the mouthwatering scents currently permeating the hallway. Defeat sagged Kenma's slender shoulders as he resigned himself to padding over and cracking the entrance open - only to freeze like a statue in the threshold.

There you stood in all your radiant, soft-lit glory, an easy smile playing over those plump, perpetually kissable lips that recently starred in such salacious reveries. One of your hands remained raised in preparation for another insistent rap while the other clutched an overladen tupperware dish, no doubt positively brimming with your latest home-cooked exploits.

"Kenma! Good, you're awake!" you chirped in that effortlessly warm cadence of yours, smile only brightening upon drinking in his form. "I was worried I missed you again for our usual weekly drop-off here."

Something about the genuine, guileless delight shimmering in your gaze at that simple prospect robbed Kenma's lungs of oxygen. Despite the erotic symphony still echoing through his shattered psyche from the night before, you reflected nothing but that same compassionate sincerity he'd come to associate with your presence over the months.

A cloaked juxtaposition of your debauched indulgences and this affable persona currently gazing up at him with such open warmth and care in your eyes. Kenma's mouth worked uselessly for a few breaths, utterly disarmed by the ease in which you toggled between those two extreme personas now.

"You...uh, I'm sorry...what?" he managed to stammer at last, feeling the heated rush of mortification prickling up the back of his neck.

Your tinkling laughter in response very nearly made his knees buckle treacherously. "Always so spacey in the afternoons, my sweet neighbor," you teased lightly, leaning closer with unmistakable concern creasing your lovely features. "But you look even more out of it today than usual. Everything okay? Did you sleep alright last night?"

The seemingly innocuous question slapped Kenma like a sucker-punch, flooding him with an onslaught of viscerally lurid recollections: of falling into sweaty, helpless raptures mid-fap session while your ecstatic cries echoed through the walls...of straining at his very limits to shove deeper into the phantom sensation of your honeyed, snug cunt swallowing him up in salacious convulsions...of your glistening, disheveled visage branded behind his fluttering lids while scalding release crested through—

"Hey now," your melodic chiding cut through the spiraling haze, utterly oblivious to the torrent of raunchy fantasies swamping Kenma's consciousness in your presence. "Don't you check out on me yet! I asked if you were sleeping okay."

Before he could marshal his thoughts into any semblance of coherent response, your hand darted out with shocking swiftness. Kenma's breath hitched in his throat as your soft, cool fingertips cradled his jawline with infinite tenderness, angling his stunned gaze towards the scrutiny of your concerned perusal.

Up close, you dominated every iota of his senses in an utterly dizzying assault - the rosy warmth of your exhalations caressing his parted lips...the headier, subtler hints of your feminine fragrance wafting into his flaring nostrils...the molten shimmer of attentiveness flickering behind those depthless irises as you drank in every weary nuance playing out across his features...

"Kenma..." you murmured, lips pursing into an adorable pout as your scrutiny traced the dark hollows of fatigue undoubtedly ringing his eyes. "Have you seriously been sleeping properly at all lately? You look absolutely exhausted right now, sweetheart..."

The unconscious endearment sheered whatever tattered scraps of composure remained within Kenma's enfevered psyche. Something seemed to wrench the air from his constricted lungs in a harsh exhalation, leaving him wheezing against the onslaught of forbidden imaginings your simple concern unleashed in his sex-addled mindscape.

He saw it all in the span of one stuttered breath - your tender expression melting into a lascivious smirk of dark promise...those plush lips parting in a wordless summons as you laced your fingers into his shaggy hair and dragged his stunned countenance lower, lower, until—

"It's...complicated," Kenma rasped, averting his gaze as something hot and mortified blazed in the pit of his gut. He hoped the dim hallway obscured the flush now surely mottling his cheeks. "And kind of...a weird situation, if I'm being totally honest."

You hummed a thoughtful note in clear skepticism, hand finally withdrawing from its cradling posture and allowing Kenma's lungs to expand once more. He greedily gulped down oxygen to sooth the embers of temptation smoldering madly at his core. But even that simple reprieve proved only a momentary salve against the sensual assault you presented.

"So..." Your amber eyes flashed with simmering humor and that familiar playful cadence as you cocked one hip out invitingly, "Since you're clearly being a stubborn pain and won't just tell me what's bugging you, how about you at least invite your friendly neighborhood chef inside for a bit?"

You punctuated the ostensibly innocuous declaration with a not-so-innocent swipe of your tongue over those plush lower lips in a subconscious gesture of pure distraction. But in Kenma's current overheated state, the fleeting indecent flash of tongue and teeth made his insides clench with violent, visceral want.

Images of you sinking to your knees before him in wanton invitation sliced through his psyche like lightning forks of arousal. Of trailing that soft, velvet muscle along the rigid length of his swollen cock with maddening leisure before wrapping those sinful lips around the engorged tip and taking him in to the root with one delirious—

"A-Actually," Kenma bit out roughly, shamefully aware of the increased strain in his cotton shorts now as insistent arousal began taking covetous form. "I'm not so sure that's such a good idea after all..."

Because having you in the same airless space after the lurid reveries plaguing his consciousness all night would only tempt fate beyond his already-strained endurance. Kenma wasn't sure just how much punishment his libido could withstand before something inside of him finally snapped and reshaped their dynamic into unknown, precarious territory.

Yet as your smile took on a touch more crestfallen resignation, a reckless part of Kenma couldn't deny the whisper-soft urge to draw you into his space, just to experience more of your physical proximity up close and personal. To stop simply fantasizing his deepest cravings and finally sample the temptation of you in the flesh consequence be damned...

"Okay, fine..." The assent rasped out before he realized the words had even taken shape. "But only for a little while - I really need to try and recharge after...well, everything lately."

A slight frown creased your brow at his vague yet loaded allusion, but you didn't voice whatever reservations flitted behind your chestnut irises in that moment. Instead, you simply brushed past Kenma's slender form into the dimly lit apartment, immediately allowing your feminine presence and intoxicating fragrance to saturate the air with heady invitation.

He stifled a shuddering inhalation through flared nostrils, resolutely shutting the door behind you before trailing after your wandering exploration. Despite the churning uncertainty and liquid arousal thrumming through every nerve ending, Kenma couldn't deny the illicit thrill singing in his veins at having you so casually inserted into his private space.

After nights of fantasizing his most lurid cravings onto your imagined visage and phantasmal presence, the realization that you were finally here in the flesh within touching distance was almost too potent to withstand. Kenma clenched and flexed his hands at his sides as you drifted like living temptation throughout his living room.

"So," you began over one slender shoulder, expression set in casual curiosity. "What exactly is going on with you, Kenma? Nothing serious I need to call emergency services over I hope?"

He swallowed convulsively around the fragmented keening noises threatening to splinter past his composure at any moment. "N-Not exactly. It's...well..."

Seizing your full regard head-on like a grounding lifeline, Kenma searched those attentive, inquisitive depths for enough courage to simply lay his depraved nocturnal admissions bare. Just come out with the blistering truth of how he'd pleasured himself to exquisite heights imagining you in the throes of passion scant feet away for weeks...

But before the words were even halfway formed in his racing thoughts, the reality of uttering such profanities aloud while drowning in the molten sincerity of your concerned stare short-circuited his ability to vocalize. Terror unlike anything Kenma ever remembered experiencing clamped like a vise around his chest at the very notion of shattering the fragile equilibrium between you both into something impossibly precarious.

Yet you only cocked your head to one side with infinite adorable patience, waiting expectantly for the earth-shattering truth to finally manifest. One perfectly manicured hand rose to habitually tuck a stray lock of silken tresses behind your ear - a subconscious gesture Kenma zeroed in on like a laser sight aimed directly at his spiraling libido.

That same lock tumbled free again moments later, your radiant features arranged in studious attentiveness. Just waiting with those utterly captivating doe eyes blinking slowly for him to finally man up and vent whatever profane confessions roiled at the forefront of his psyche.

"I...it's..." Kenma's mouth shaped the syllables, over and over, only for them to die stillborn on his tongue. Until at last, mounting desperation and frustration with his own cowardice propelled him into a blunt truth that fell like a granite guillotine blade between you both.

"I can't stop jerking off to the sounds of you fucking every goddamn night, okay?!"

Dead, viscous silence choked the airless living room as the last echoes of his guttural admission faded into nothingness. For a small eternity, neither of you so much as twitched a muscle - simply stared at each other across the scant few feet of separation with twin expressions of dawning horror on opposite ends of the spectrum.

A fresh wave of shame swamped his senses at your astute observation being laid so bare between them. At the implication that his own tormented cravings had become all too apparent in your innocent presence as of late. Kenma fleetingly considered simply wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole to escape this fresh torment.

But as you reached out to lay one soothing palm over his twitching knuckles in reassurance, a frisson of bone-deep yearning lanced through Kenma's core like a lightning strike. One undeniable truth roared up from those instinctual reserves of masculine hunger - he no longer possessed the willpower to retreat or dissemble from this tipping point you'd instigated.

Either he severed this infected root between them decisively in the next few moments, or surrendered all lingering control and simply seized what his primal urges had been howling for all this interminable time...

"So I have a proposal for you," he growled out in a rumbling baritone far deeper and more bestial than he'd ever heard himself utter before. "You can either cut the shit with your nightly fuckfests right now and give me some goddamn peace and quiet."

Kenma knew his searing glare alone could sear flesh from bone in that instant. But some unraveling part of him no longer had any compunctions about revealing the full breadth of his ravenous wants to you, even through brutally crass demands. Not when your own perpetually teasing presence and unsolicited carnal offerings had eroded away every ounce of his restraint over time.

However your features remained completely unruffled - not a single flicker of surprise or indignation flickering across those serene features marred only by that taunting shimmer of reflected firelight. As if you'd been awaiting this pivotal confrontation and reckoning for just as long as Kenma had been dreading its inevitability deep down.

At last you leaned forward, closing the already scant distance until your exhalations ghosted across his lips in soft bursts of temptation. "What's the other option, sweet neighbor?" You murmured in a husky, sin-glazed timbre that simultaneously sent red-hot lances of hunger spiking through Kenma's veins.

A shuddering inhale of that inebriating floral fragrance of yours was all it took for the final strands of his control to shred asunder. Kenma's hands lanced forward with utterly zero finesse or restraint remaining, fisting twin handfuls of your disheveled tresses to crash your mouths together in a punishing, open-mouthed clash of tongues and teeth.

You swallowed down his guttural snarl of overwhelming relief and possession like a sacramental offering. Your form melted back against the cushions as Kenma's body instinctively pursued, pinning you amidst a feverish tempest of roving hands and slick, carnal violation marking every slick inch of your succulent mouth in lurid ownership.

Finally, you broke away from the devouring kiss with a breathless gasp that stoked the banked fires consuming Kenma even higher. Your eyelids remained hooded to mere slits, dazed and molten with that same fiery promise that had driven him steadily towards the edge of utter madness these last few weeks.

"Or...?" You prompted with a wrecked rasp, somehow echoing his own thundering hunger even while sprawled out in beautiful disarray beneath him.

"Or..." Kenma paused to swallow another fortifying inhale, letting the lingering wisps of your sweet breath swirling between them only stoke his fearless momentum higher. "You let me be the ONLY one plowing that sweet pussy from now on...whenever and however the hell I want. No more random assholes clogging up the rotation, just me stretching you out night after filthy night."

He punctuated the shameless declaration with a forceful grind of his caged erection against the apex of your thighs, savoring your choked mewl of surprised delight. Part of you never wanted this rapturous, primal joining of forms to ever cease. To remain tangled and desperately intertwined with Kenma's lean, quivering frame forever while he plundered your mouth in deep, ravenous sweeps that stoked molten embers throughout your core.

But another part - that same mischievous, teasing part that found such wicked delight in driving your sweet neighbor to the brink of desperation through the walls each night - couldn't resist prolonging this aching torment just a little further.

With a trembling inhale, you summoned what tattered scraps of willpower remained and inched backwards, severing the sultry clash of lips and tongue with a slick pop. Kenma's eyes remained hooded to mere gunmetal slivers, glazed with a deliriously intoxicating lust that robbed you of the very air in your lungs.

"W-wait..." he rasped in a tone shredded from the intensity of your furious make out session. Those long, agile fingers flexed convulsively against your waist as if to reel you back in against his solid planes.

You pressed a finger to those beautifully swollen lips, feeling another sizzling jolt shudder down your spine at his desperate whine of protest. With monumental effort, you dragged your hooded stare up from the lewd distraction of his parted mouth and found his gaze swimming behind a turbulent sea of yearning and frustration.

"Don't worry, sweet neighbor," you breathed in a husky rasp that had his fingers spasming against your hip with renew fervor. "I'm not running off and leaving you like this...not after finally getting a taste of what I've spent weeks dreaming about..."

Kenma's features tightened imperceptibly, throat clicking in a labored swallow as you allowed your hands to trail from his chiseled jaw down the tensed cords of his neck. You knew those clever fingers would be mapping every whisper-soft tremor rippling beneath your touch in achingly intimate detail even through the lust-drunk haze.

"I just..." You ducked your chin to the side, allowing your hair to spill across the delicate arch of your jaw and expose the tender, perfumed hollow of your throat in a subconscious lure. "I think we could both use a little time to cool off after that mind-blowing make out session, no? Let these urges simmer back up to a full boil while we go about the rest of our evenings..."

Your eyes slanted back up to merge with Kenma's molten, hooded stare. Unconsciously, your tongue slipped out in a slow sweep over your parted, slick lips as you drank in the blatantly rapacious promise flickering behind his simmering regard.

"Then later on tonight...I'm going to slip back into your place and we can finally indulge in all those dirty fantasies for real." The husky promise rippled through the airless living room in a sibilant purr. "And this time...there won't be any walls between us to stifle a single sinful sound, sweet Kenma."

He shuddered violently against your palms, sinewy form going taut like a drawn bow as you confirmed what his devouring stare alone had been silently imploring. The raw, hungry sound that slipped free from between his teeth made your knees buckle treacherously.

Before you could react, Kenma surged forward once more to capture your lips in another drugging, open-mouthed clash. But there existed no coy restraint or building heat in this possessive plundering kiss - only the scaldingly intense desperation of a man who had finally glimpsed his darkest temptations writ flesh and realized he couldn't bear to wait a single second longer.

You whimpered against his savagery, fingers splaying against the hewn slabs of his chest as he tilted your skull back and pillaged your mouth without quarter. His hands roamed across your curves with restless authority, as if mapping each silken hollow and slope to pristine, photographic memory for future reference. By the time Kenma finally relinquished your gasping, bite-swollen lips with a filthy groan, you were delirious from the visceral intensity.

"Tonight," he growled with sub-bass resonance into the damp, musky sanctuary of your throat. Each syllable rumbled through your bones like a full-bodied caress. "I don't care if it's five minutes from now or five hours...you WILL come back again like you promised, babygirl. Are we crystal fucking clear?"

The feral heat radiating off Kenma's hypnotically swaying frame threatened to melt you into a prostrate puddle then and there. You could only swallow and nod in meek, stunned surrender as he searched your features with that ravenous intensity you'd only imagined in the most lurid of your late-night reveries.

At last, he seemed to find whatever confirmation of your compliance he required simmering behind your glazed stare. With one final lingering caress over the rapidly blossoming masterpiece of bruises he'd tenderly sucked into the skin of your throat, Kenma released you with obvious reluctance.

You staggered free on shaky legs, hyper-aware of how intimately disheveled you appeared - ruddy blush staining your cheeks, hair tousled and wild, lips swollen from repeated plundering, and the stickied slickness of arousal undoubtedly glistening between your thighs for anyone to see. Kenma remained framed in the doorway like a stoic obelisk of masculine covetousness refusing to let you leave his sight again until the time was right.

With one final, simmering look over your shoulder, you allowed the wrecked promise of tonight to linger between you like a balmier prelude. Then you turned on shaking heels to retreat, every nerve ending screaming out for the interminable wait to simply be over already.

Because in the smoldering aftermath of everything that had transpired, only one sizzling truth remained perfectly crystallized between you and Kenma at last:

There would be no more barriers separating hungry fantasies from rapturous reality any longer. Only the welcoming, inescapable promise of delirium rapidly rushing to consume you both whole once and for all.

The rest of the evening passed in a feverish blur for Kenma. No matter how he tried to distract himself - games, movies, mindless internet browsing - his thoughts remained consumed by you.

He kept replaying your heated makeout session over and over, body thrumming with echoes of your intoxicating taste and softness pressed against him. The featherlight scratches you'd left along his back in your passion had scorched themselves into his memory.

Most of all, Kenma couldn't stop obsessing over your brazen promise to return that very night, ready to shed any remaining barriers between you. Just imagining your beautiful form slipping through his door, eyes hooded with want, made his throat run dry with anticipation.

As the hours ticked by agonizingly slow, Kenma paced restlessly. He found himself checking the time again and again, willing the luminous numbers to flash closer to midnight...to the threshold of when you might appear on his doorstep once more.

A part of him worried whether you'd actually follow through, or if this had all been an elaborate tease. But your half-lidded gaze during your last searing kiss branded the back of his mind, stoking his patience blessedly.

At last, a little past midnight, Kenma's front door buzzer sounded like a cannon shot in the stillness. His heart leapt into his throat as he vaulted off the couch and raced over, peering through the peephole with bated breath.

There you stood in the dimly lit hallway, silhouette cloaked in a large trench coat that swathed your form from collarbone to ankles. A shiver of mingled excitement and confusion went through Kenma - was this your idea of building suspense?

He swiftly unlatched the door and pulled it open. You greeted him with a coy smile that made his pulse spike, stepping over the threshold and brushing past him into the apartment's shadowed interior.

Kenma's brow furrowed slightly as you strode further inside, still swathed in that oversized coat. Despite looking sinfully alluring sheathed in mystery, a small part of him felt a pang of disappointment that you hadn't shed your outer layers yet in preparation.

Swallowing down the brief uncertainty, he closed and re-locked the door, turning to gently grasp your shoulders from behind. His nose instinctively nuzzled the soft hair at your nape, breathing in your sweet, intoxicating scent.

"Should I...help you out of this?" Kenma murmured huskily into your ear. "I was hoping to pick up where we left off earlier..."

With a soft hum of assent, you reached up to lightly clasp his wandering hands. Then, maintaining that coy, heated eye contact, you shrugged the trench coat off in one smooth motion...

...to reveal your gorgeous form left tantalizingly nude beneath the discarded garment.

Kenma's breath stalled in his lungs as his eyes raked shamelessly over your bare skin, drinking in every lush curve and tantalizing dip finally laid bare before his ravenous stare. You really had come to him with no barriers remaining - in more ways than one.

His palms roved downwards, sliding around to splay across your lower stomach and draw you against his front. Your soft gasp as Kenma's hardness pressed against your backside made his pulse leap with visceral satisfaction.

"Do you like what you see, sweet neighbor?" Your voice dripped like honey, a sensual purr of temptation.

"You have no fucking idea," Kenma growled. His fingertips traced a slow path up the plane of your stomach to cup both breasts in his palms, savoring their weight and plush fullness.

A choked sound slipped from your throat as he teased and rolled your nipples, alternating his grip on your ample flesh. Kenma's lips latched onto the sensitive skin of your neck, kissing and nipping a trail along its length until he reached the fluttering hollow of your pulse point.

The salty-sweet tang of your skin flooded his tongue as he suckled, savoring the way your hips ground back against his erection. One hand slipped away from your breasts to travel downwards, skimming along your supple curves with reverent exploration.

By the time his questing fingertips brushed over your mound, Kenma was throbbing painfully with need. But he wanted to enjoy this moment, to drink his fill of you in the flesh before he claimed what was his.

As if sensing his ravenous intent, you parted your legs invitingly and arched back against his chest. Kenma groaned into your throat, dipping two fingers into the soaked seam of your pussy and coating his digits in your arousal. He spread you open, pressing down on your swollen clit while pumping his fingers in and out. Your whimpers of encouragement made his cock ache, his free hand gripping your hip tightly for support.

"F-Fuck...I've been dreaming about this pussy for weeks," Kenma moaned against your jaw, grinding his clothed erection against your ass. "It feels even better than I imagined."

Your hands rose to wind around the back of his neck, fingers twining into his hair as his deft fingertips plunged deeper and faster. He could feel you starting to tremble, breathy whines slipping from your throat as you arched into his touch.The knowledge that he'd driven you so far so quickly sent a jolt of primal triumph through his chest.

Kenma shifted his hold, sliding his other hand around to the apex of your thighs and sinking his thumb into your dripping core. His palm curled, providing pressure against your engorged clit while he pumped and scissored his digits inside your molten walls. Your spine arched against him, gasping moans echoing in the air as his fingers thrust and rubbed mercilessly.

"Come on, babygirl. You've been a naughty little tease to me for weeks, haven't you?" Kenma growled. "Time for a little punishment."

The added friction against your clit was too much for you to handle. With a strangled cry, your release crashed over you, pussy clenching down on his fingers and soaking his palm. Kenma moaned at the sensation, burying his face into the crook of your neck and breathing deeply as you rode out the waves of ecstasy.

Slowly, his grip eased as you came down, easing his fingers free from your soaked folds. With a groan, Kenma lifted his cum-soaked digits to his mouth and licked them clean, savoring your sweetness. He was so entranced, he didn't notice you had turned to face him until your tongue lapped up the remainder of your arousal, sealing your mouths in a fierce, devouring kiss.

His arms locked around your waist, tugging you flush against his chest. Your lips parted on a sigh, allowing his tongue to plunge inside and share your essence. You tasted exquisite, a heady cocktail of feminine want and salty-sweet arousal that went straight to Kenma's cock.

He backed you into the living room, never breaking the kiss, until the couch hit the backs of your knees. You sank down onto the cushions, dragging him with you. Your thighs parted, allowing Kenma's hips to settle between them. The sudden proximity of his throbbing erection made you moan into his mouth, sending another jolt of pleasure down his spine.

After a few moments, Kenma broke away, panting heavily. He reached up to palm the back of his shirt, shucking it off over his head in a single smooth motion. The sight of your eyes trailing hungrily across his naked chest made his cock twitch, a growl rising from his throat as he dipped his head to nip and lick a fiery path along your throat.

His fingers tugged and yanked at his pants, trying desperately to free his aching erection. At last, Kenma succeeded, kicking the unwanted garment off and wrapping a firm hand around his cock. Your breath hitched as his hardness brushed against your dripping entrance, rubbing the sensitive tip up and down your slit.

Kenma braced one arm above your head, propping himself up so he could drink in your reactions. The other hand gripped his base, guiding his length to your core. With a groan, he slid the crown between your dripping lips, nudging your clitand making you gasp.

"Look at me, babygirl," he demanded, waiting until your eyes met his. "I want to see you as I'm fucking this sweet pussy for the first time."

Your eyelids fluttered, lips parting on a ragged exhale. Kenma smirked, his cock throbbing at the way your expression tightened with desperation and hunger. Slowly, he eased the tip inside, moaning at the exquisite heat and pressure.

"You're mine now, understand?" Kenma growled, eyes burning into yours. "No one else gets to see this pretty pussy, hear those filthy sounds, taste this sweet cunt...just me. Say it."

You nodded, whimpering as his thickness stretched you open. "Just...yours...fuck!"

With a snarl, Kenma thrust the rest of the way in, filling you completely. Your back arched, mouth dropping open on a sharp gasp. You were so tight and wet, he had to fight the urge to spill inside you immediately.

Gritting his teeth, Kenma eased out slowly before thrusting in again. The slide of your slick heat along his cock was sublime, and he knew he wasn't going to last long. He began pumping his hips, savoring the sounds you made as he took you with slow, deep thrusts.

Your hands scrambled along his chest, nails scoring red lines into his skin. Kenma hissed, snapping his hips harder. He was already addicted to the way you reacted to his every move, the way your pussy squeezed his cock and how your eyes never left his.

"Fuck, you’re so hot," Kenma panted, grinding his hips. "Can’t believe I get to fuck you whenever I want, babygirl. Got this tight little cunt all to myself."

Your only reply was a keening whine, body rocking into his as his pace increased. Kenma knew you were getting close, could feel your walls beginning to flutter around him. He was too, his balls already tightening with impending release.

One hand trailed down to rub circles around your clit, eliciting a string of cries and whimpers. Kenma fucked you relentlessly, his free hand reaching up to grab a fistful of your hair. The combination of sensations pushed you over the edge, pussy clenching down hard on his cock and making him hiss.

Kenma groaned as you came, feeling the hot spray of your arousal as it drenched his length and thighs. His hips pistoned faster, chasing his own orgasm as you gasped and writhed beneath him. It didn't take long, not with the way your cunt was practically milking his cock.

With a guttural shout, Kenma came, hips stuttering as he spilled inside you. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down for a sloppy kiss. He kept thrusting, drawing out his orgasm, until finally he had to break away, gasping for breath.

Kenma collapsed on top of you, resting his head on your chest. His arms slid around your waist, pulling you close as his cock softened inside you. You nuzzled his hair, one hand coming up to stroke his sweat-dampened strands.

For several minutes, you remained intertwined like that, basking in the afterglow. Finally, Kenma reluctantly withdrew from your heat, rolling over and tucking you against his side. His hands trailed idly up and down your back, reveling in the softness of your skin.

"So..." You broke the silence first, tilting your head up to look at him. "Same time tomorrow?"

Kenma's lips twitched, a smirk curling at the edges. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not letting you leave my apartment for the next three days, at the very least."

You raised an eyebrow, though your teasing smile remained firmly in place. "Oh, really? And here I was thinking you were more of the reserved type, sweet neighbor."

"Well...you tend to bring out the worst in me," he retorted, a low purr rumbling through his chest as he drew you closer. "But don't worry. I have every intention of punishing you for all the trouble you've caused."

Kenma could already feel himself growing hard again, his spent cock beginning to thicken once more. You squirmed against him, biting your lip and shivering as his fingers slipped down to trace the soaked seam of your pussy.

"In fact," he murmured, nipping at the delicate shell of your ear, "let's get started on that right now."

[briseroyawritingsblog]

𝒊𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖

𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒐𝒕!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +18 minors do not interact. established relationship, shopping trip, dinner date at home, SMUT/ protected sex, anal sex, soft sex, lots of french kissing, size kink, breeding kink, too many feelings (reader) life in 2051, fluffy things and etc.

𝒇𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

dividers by @cafekitsune & @anitalenia 🤍

“Why don’t you just move to my bed..?” Logan wondered caressing your hand softly. Thumb drawing circles on your knuckles “Would you like me to do that Sir?” Looking up into his eyes you read his emotions. He nodded “Yes princess..” batting your eyelashes he smiled pulling you closer to him. “I shall move to rest next to you Sir” confirming upon his lovely request your arms swung themselves around his neck. “I will take a shower bub, I forgot about the movie.” cheeks heating up at his words replaying the events that happened few minutes ago. “I cannot refuse you Sir.. I love you” Logan cooed against your lips kissing you slowly and long savouring the taste of your glossy lips. “And I love you..” hearing those words again from him you felt pulsing in your chest. Warmth spreading through your entire body. “I will prepare fresh pyjamas for you. Would you like me to change the sheets as well?” Suggesting while your dainty little fingers scratched his bearded cheeks. “That would be nice” he hummed watching you bat your curly eyelashes at him his heart picking up the speed pulse spiking. The sheer beauty of you “We are one— joined souls… forever” logan smirked. “Are we now princess?”

“What else do we need?” He chuckled softly watching you load the cart with groceries.

“A lot. I plan to cook only the best for you Sir” your lips curled into a soft smile. You wore a black maid dress, a rainproof coat and knee high boots. Your clothes arrived delivered and securely packaged in boxes.

“You do enough..” he whispered in your ear standing behind you as you pushed the cart. You melted into his embrace kissing his cheek softly. Some people nearby mistook you for a real human being— women complimented you. They complimented your black long locks, until you removed your glasses which covered your eyes. You had sclera hues, and for humans that was scary. You adored children so if they approached you you knelt to their height and spoke with them. Logan saw it, he only watched in awe. How was that even possible he held so much love for you? You let the children touch your hair and your hands. “One day I want to be like you!” Little girl said with a giggle.

“Come on sweetheart..” Logan extended his hand towards you when he saw security guards nearby. “We had a complaint that she’s a robot. We do not allow them to stay here or let alone engage with people. They can be dangerous” you looked at Logan gently hiding behind him lowering your eyes putting your glasses back on. “We are leaving—” he grunted shooting a death glare towards the guard forming a fist. You stopped him cupping his knuckles feeling the sharp tips of his pushed out claws against your palm “That’s alright Sir, we are leaving now” after paying and bagging the groceries together you remained silent. The child told you that she wanted to be like you one day— she thought that you were a human being. You wanted that so much— to be real for him. For your love. The thing was people mistook you for the failed kind of robots, you wanted to be better. Those who rebelled against humans you were not like them you couldn’t be ever.

“We will have the groceries delivered. Whatever you want princess. I don’t want them to judge you or stare at you. It angers me” Logan admitted as you chopped the vegetables for his dinner. “I completely understand Sir. I just wanted to be with you” you admitted and Logan sighed softly. “And I want to be with you. Every moment I get to be with you— I wouldn’t change it for the world. If anything happens to you” you put down the knife clashing distance with him locking your arms around him kissing the side of your neck snuggling in his arms closing your eyes inhaling his scent. The warm woodsy kind— your senses taking in every part of his body. His own arms coiled around you kissing the top of your head pulling you even closer to him until he lifted you your thighs wrapping themselves around his waist clinging to him. “Don’t ever let me go Sir” you blinked facing him your noses touching. “I can think of many reasons to keep you around princess” a soft smirk painted his features large palms cupping and holding your butt slowly walking around the kitchen with you. Hearts forming before your eyes leaning in kissing him long letting his tongue penetrate your lips. You moaned raking your fingers through his dark mane pulling him closer your lips being engulfed by him tasting the aroma of his whiskey breath.

You finished plating his dinner, steak with tons of veggies and a side of fries. Sitting opposite him opening his laptop while he ate his dinner complimenting every bite how good it was praising you on. “Sir? Shall I respond to your emails from work? You have over 100 unread.” Your cheeks blushed at his lovely compliments. “Come here.. fuck the emails..” he leaned back on his chair sipping on his drink. Eyes hooded, face full of affection for you. “I’m just a fuckin’ fool in love with you” he sighed taking your hand once you walked over to him. He pulled you to his lap so you straddled his hips. You lied your cheek on his shoulder draping your arm around his other shoulder closing your eyes humming a song to him. “I love you just as much—” whispering your mouth cupped his ear kissing him there.

Something occurred that night. While you rested on the bed, your eyelids shut something formed in the middle of your chest. A red ball of energy— right under your rib cage. The ball of warm energy started to pulsate. It became redder and redder to the point anyone could see the wires under your skin. You were not aware of what was happening you were completely resting and recharging. The light in your chest formed a shape of human heart. It was beating faster and faster until it found its own pace. Logan woke up at the red light in the room, he sat up next to you placing a hand on your chest you were warm. Rubbing your cheek with the back of his knuckles softly, how could a robot become half human? Unplugging your charging system he scooped you in his arms holding you placing his cheek on your forehead. “Is there something I can do for you Sir?” Your eyes fluttered open and he remained silent. The light in your chest faded away and you didn’t feel any different. “Logan..” you reached for his forehead kissing it. “What?” He whispered not believing you said his name for the first time. “Say it again.” furrowing your eyebrows you nuzzled your face against his neck “James..” his face softened. “You said my name” nodding softly “Yes.. you’re my boyfriend” bringing you down on the bed cupping your cheek he kissed your mouth softly. “You have a heart” closing your eyes placing a hand over his own heart listening to his heartbeat “It beats for you”

— Love Overdrive —

“James..” gasping for air your hands clutched the silky sheets beneath you as you found yourself under Logan. His large body shielding you, letting you feel his weight. His arms were under you as he rocked his hips into you from behind. His ragged breath coated your ear as he filled you out. “I love you..” you let out the softest moan but soon his hips picked up the speed sheating his protected cock deeper in you feeling how you coat him in your creamy essence and god he lost his mind burying his face against the back of your hair letting out the softest grunts and whimpers as he grabbed your breasts “I’m here.. I-I’m here.. I’m yours” you felt his emotions, you tamed him. He was so lost and you found him. “Fuck.. fuck…” he rasped parting your thighs even more as you were on your knees making sure to hide all of his cock in your warm centre. “You better stay princess.. need to tame your old man..” he breathed kissing your shoulder, your lips remained parted in pleasure. Taking his cock out of your wet inviting centre, rubbing the swollen mushroom tip on your other hole which seemed so tight and god you were so soft. “James” you panted looking over your shoulder as he grabbed the base of his protected cock prodding your puckered hole. You cried out— “Fuck” he groaned. Hearts formed in your sclera eyes as you bit your lower lip whining at the feel of him. Clenching around him the moment he slid right whole inside of you he gasped. “Holy f-” grunting he pulled you to kneel up between his parted thighs. Your back leaning on his chest as he grabbed your pussy from the front holding it snapping his hips against your butt stretching your other hole repeatedly. You mewled wrapping your arm around his neck touching his hair. “Oh James, Logan.. ughhh.. mmmm” you let out the softest moans and mewls which spurred him on fucking into you quicker and quicker not holding back. “You feel so good.. tightest holes I ever fucked, ugh” whispering in your ear you licked your lower lip tilting your face to him leaning the back of your head on his shoulder kissing him. Your tongues glided over each other and his thrusts became faster, harder. As if he was trying to climb inside of you “Mine.. mine mine..” sliding two of his fingers in your wet mound from the front he remained pounding your other hole until he couldn’t anymore. The moment he stilled and released all of his tension with a broken whimper. Getting rid of his used condom he reached for a new one, making sure it was correctly rolled over his swollen cock which dripped with so much cum.

“Lay down..” you breathed watching him do so climbing on top of him locking your hand around his warm length pumping it. “Shit..” he breathed chest heaving eyes hooded with desire again. His claws slowly pushing out “Shhh..” licking your lower lip you sitting on him completely touching his shiny claws with your fingers bringing them to your mouth your tongue dancing on his middle one “Ughh..” he smiled at you carefully gripping your thigh as you nestled him right in your honeypot. “I love when you orgasm” you whimpered moaning with every move of your hips as you gyrated yourself on his length your thighs rubbing on his own “Because I’m the cause of it.. I love when you push out these claws because the pleasure is too much..” his mouth parted “Fuck you’re.. you’re the cause baby.. one day you will carry my little wolves” you nodded biting your lower lip again speeding up your hips fucking him just right. “Yes Sir.. yes.. ughhh yess..” fingers tangling around his dogtags pulling on them gently you whined as he became even harder for you close to cum again reaching behind you to place your hands on his knees you rode him until he came and it was an eruption.

“Princess..”

-

(Any grammatical errors I apologise in advance)

[bigwishes]

Muscle BULL

(at time of writing muscle bull won the vote so I hope you enjoy)

Mikey took one last picture in front of the gym mirror, showing off every bulging muscle of his tight and toned frame. He typed his wish into the ask box "I wish for a change (but I wanna keep my muscle)" and looked into the mirror waiting for his changes to begin.

As soon as he pressed send Mikey felt his body begin to pulse and swell. He heard the sound of his skin stretching as his muscles swelled up underneath. Mikey grabbed his pec feeling it bulge and swell bigger, the pulses of growth matching his heart beat.

"ah, fuck yeaahhhh" Mikey moaned flexing in the mirror.

The growth began to slow down, Mikey put on some cloths feeling them tight over his massive body, unable to stop flexing to himself and laughing at how muscle bigger he had grown. He left the locker room to test his new massive body in the gym.

After an hour in the gym Mikey realised he had lifted a barbell maybe once. He was too busy staring at his massive frame in the gym mirror. Other guys around him looked puny, he looked almost over grown but he loved the size.

Mikey took a deep breath flexing again but feeling something strange in his pelvis. A butterfly like sensation stirring in his groin, Mikey looked down and moaned watching as the fabric around his dick expanded and stretched out. His eyes widened and he bit his bottom lip watching it expand and grow bigger. Mikey got up and left the gym, in such a rush he forgot his bag, he got in his car feeling another surge of growth. Driving home as fast as he legally could Mikey anxiously rubbed his groin feeling a surge of pleasure as he touched it. He wanted to lift up his waist band but was even more desperate to enjoy himself as soon as he saw what was under it.

Mikey pulled up in his driveway getting out of his car, feeling what felt like his balls now so big they rubbed against his thighs. Suddenly another pulse of growth washed over his groin.

"AWWWW FUCCKKKKKKK" Mikey moaned out falling back to lean on the side of his car.

Mikey tried to run to his door but it was more of a waddle feeling the squeeze in-between his legs, Mikey shut his door and leant against it, staring up at the ceiling he moaned feeling one last massive surge. **RIIIIIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP**

Mikey heard his gym shorts tear apart and felt his underwear snap. Mikey let out a excited laugh looking down at his new package but it wasn't his dick that he saw. Mikey's face quickly soured as he saw a massive pink udder sagging in place of where his dick would be.

"w..w...w-WHAT THE FUCK" Mikey started to panic, grabbing onto one of his new four dick.

Another sudden pulse hit him and Mikey watched as his new sagging udder swelled up even more he felt it become tight, and then painfully tight, completely full.

"WHAT HAPPENED TO MY DICK"

Mikey slid down against his door until he was sitting on the floor. He placed both his hands around the massive round udder. All four of his dicks began to leak pre.

"oh god...what the fuck do I do with this thing"

Mikey started jerking one of his dicks, his head fell back slamming against the door as he felt the best pleasure he's felt in his entire life. It was barely 30 second before he came and his dick squirted cum over his chest and wall. Mikey couldn't help but move onto the next one, feeling the intense pleasure, and again and then again. By the time he finished one another was rock solid. Mikey stood up wiping the cum off his massive body, moaning at his full cock udder than still felt like it was gonna burst.

Mikey walked to his bedroom and saw his huge body in the mirror, he flexed and posed his new huge muscles, he was the biggest man he's ever seen. His body took up most of his mirror and his giant hand struggled to hold his phone. His eyes wondered down his enormous frame.

Mikey let out a deep sigh dropping his phone on the ground. He stared at the massive cock udder that was now the size of a beach ball. He wrapped both his hands around his, jiggling it up and down hearing sloshing from inside. The four dicks instantly became hard from the slightest touch. Mikey have it a slight squeeze watching as all four dicks squirted cum onto his mirror.

"Oh god, I look like a fucking cow..."

---

hope you ladz can enjoy this one, its been a while and I'm trying to get back into the swing of it all.

[redvexillum]

I feel like the way I portray Alastor is all in the spectrum of Yandare. So, I tried my best to write...yandare Alastor in a way it makes sense for my head canon of him. I want to give a quick shout out to my friend @peach-flavored-flambe ! I thought the best way to welcome her is dedicating this unhinged Alastor story to her!

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, dead dove: do not eat, dub con, obsessive!alastor, p in v, gentle sex, gaslighting, entrapment, breeding kink, psychological, dark, mental torment, unhealthy relationship, orgasm denial, power dynamic, unhinged!alastor, reader is not okay, implied cannibalism, suicidal thoughts, depression, reader is delulu, alastor is delulu, extreme co-dependency, extreme denial, yandare!alastor

🙏 please mind your mental health before you read 🙏

The thought curled through you like poison, clinging to every corner of your mind: you wanted to die.  

It was a siren song, cruel and haunting, a whisper that slithered deep into the crumbling fortress of your mind, eroding the defences you’d built to keep it out. Your hands shook as exhaustion seeped into every crack; bones weary from a battle that felt endless. It wasn’t just tiredness – it was a soul-deep weight, a leaden heaviness that hollowed you out.  

In the background, soft jazz played from the kitchen, each note swirling with a warmth that felt so alien in the cold void within you. Sunlight poured through the window, a golden river that washed over everything it touched, indifferent to the shadows lurking within.  

You noticed the knife on the counter – a sharp gleam that seemed to pulse with a dangerous allure, its polished blade catching the light with a slick, almost wet shine. It seemed to call out to you, offering a quick, dreamless eternity.  

But even as your gaze lingered, your heart resisted, tethered stubbornly to someone who’d become both your prison and sanctuary. 

Alastor.  

A man you never should have crossed paths with. A man you should never have fallen for.  

You sighed, holding the knife as you turned back to the chunk of meat. Its once bright crimson flesh changing to a dull, dead brown. The raw smell was overwhelming, thick and nearly spoiled in the oppressive Louisiana heat. Alastor left you with some tasks today, after you had begged him to give you something to do as you wait for his return. Your task was to package the meat, clean up the kitchen, polish the floor while you waited for his return.  

The smell of raw meat brought images to flicker through your mind: men and women, faces frozen in terror as Alastor dragged them down to the cellar. A shiver ran down your spine, and a small whimper escaped, a whisper of fear against the tears that threatened to fall. You tore your gaze away from the knife and forced yourself to look outside. The bayou stretched out beyond the window, a bleak expanse of gnarly trees and dark water – silent, desolate, and as inescapable as him.  

You took a steadying breath, mentally reciting the day’s tasks like a prayer to keep you grounded. Finish the meat, scrub the blood stains, bleach the floor, and when the last crimson smear was gone, he’d return. By then, you’d be ready, composed. With a sniff, you shoved your feelings back, burying them under the monotony of chores.  

Finally, when every trace of red erased from the floor, you heard the front door click open. The sound echoed, a rhythmic click-click-click, each lock sliding free, the metal grating sharply against the silence. Your heart skipped as the door creaked, and there he stood – Alastor, haloed in the setting sun. His smile was gentle, but his eyes gleamed as he opened his arms.  

“My love,” he murmured, setting down his bag and slipping off his coat with an air of practised ease.  

You scrambled to your feet, the memory still fresh from the last time you hadn’t been there to greet him. He had panicked, refusing to leave your side for days. He held you then, whispering sweet words of devotion, his arms an unyielding cage, each word sinking deeper until it was all you knew. You didn’t know if he knew the truth – that every word bound you closer even as you longed to escape.  

Fear wrapped around you, yet somewhere deep within, in a place even you struggled to reach, you needed him. The years of isolation had stripped you bare, leaving only the two of you locked in this strange dance.  

Five years – five years of him as your only constant, your only company in this void. That had to be love. It was the only way to make sense of why you stayed, why you remained bound to him by something more powerful than chains.  

It had to be love.  

“Alastor,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, legs shaking from hours of kneeling on the hard floor, scrubbing away every crimson stain. You took a step forward, the chilling clink of metal grazing the wood beneath your feet with each uneven, hesitant step. The floorboards seemed to pulse below you, each creak an echo of your own heartbeat, until finally, you stopped, frozen four steps away from the exit.  

He chuckled – a warm, resonant sound that should have been comforting but only heightened the chill trickling down your spine. With graceful steps, Alastor closed the distance between you, his arms circling around your shoulders. His chin rested gently against your head, the weight of him grounding you in place, his presence washing over you like a tide you couldn’t escape.  

“I missed you,” you mumbled against his chest, nuzzling into his embrace. The heat of him, the solid reassurance of his touch, brought you back to yourself, to the one undeniable truth of your existence: you were here, alive, because he held you tethered. “Did you have a good day at work, my love?” you murmured, soft and tentative.  

His hand slid over the back of your head; fingers gentle as he stroked you. He breathed in deeply, a wistful sigh slipping from his lips. “My love, you never left my thoughts for a single moment.” His voice was soft, warm, and his arms tightened around you, so tightly that for a second, you felt as though the air was slipping away.  

Finally, he parted, just enough for you to breathe again, his fingers grazing along the warm curve of your cheek. “Let’s get you out of that, hmm?” His voice was gentle, and his whisky-brown eyes glittered with a kindness that made your chest ache.  

A swell of relief surged in you, and you threw your arms around his shoulders. “Thank you, Alastor, thank you!” Laughter bubbled out of you, bright and involuntary, stretching your lips into a smile that felt foreign, almost unbelievable after everything.  

He lifted you effortlessly, his strength both exhilarating and terrifying as he carried you toward the couch. Each step sent the faintest clinking of metal into the air, a reminder of the bond that held you captive.  

As he set you down and took a step back, you could feel his gaze moving over you, slow and deliberate, like he could peel back each layer with a single look. You flushed under his scrutiny, your shoulders curling inward, a strange blend of shame and need warring within you. Despite your clothes, under his gaze you felt exposed, vulnerable, as if he could read every thought you’d ever dared to keep from him.  

“Cher,” he murmured, his hand drifting over the outside of your calf, fingers tracing a path until they reached your ankle.  

You heard the fabric rustling, and then – there it was, glinting between his fingers: a silver key. Your eyes focused on the key, and your heart skipped, hope blooming like wildflowers in a barren field. The promise of freedom lay in that tiny object, so close and yet, a lifetime away. You watched, hardly daring to breathe, as he took your ankle in his hand, his thumb brushing lightly over your bare foot. It was a reminder of the first time he’d ordered you to go without socks when you first escaped from this manacle.  

He slid the key into the lock, and with a single twist, the manacle opened with the same familiar click that marked his return home every day. The cool metal fell away, clattering weakly to the floor. A rush of air hit the skin beneath, and you winced as blood surged back into your ankle, a dull ache flooding back into limbs so long constrained.  

The shackles lay there, lifeless on the floor, the physical proof of your captivity now nothing more than a scrap of metal, stripped of its power. And yet, as you looked up at him, his eyes shining with something both possessive and achingly tender, you realized you could never truly cast off the chains that bound you to him.  

Not as long as you believe you loved him.  

“Oh, my poor cher,” Alastor murmured, his voice thick with a twisted blend of regret and possessive tenderness as his eyes traced the dark bruises wrapping around your ankle. His lips brushed softly over the tender skin, lingering in a gentle, reverent kiss before his forehead rested against your leg.  

With his eyes closed, he sighed, pressing warmth into you. “It pains me,” he whispered, “to see even the slightest mark of discomfort on you.” His lips began a slow journey, grazing from your ankle upward along the sensitive skin of your inner calf, each kiss stealing a shiver from you. “But you understand, don’t you, cher? It’s a necessity.” 

He lifted his eyes to meet yours, their intense gaze sending a shudder through you. His position – kneeling between your legs – made it impossible to think straight. Despite being in a servile pose, he was still the master of your heart.  

“Yes...I understand,” you managed, your voice raspy and barely audible. His lips continued their climb, each kiss leaving a cool, tingling path against your skin. “But I’ve been good, Alastor.” Your breath hitched as his head came to rest in your lap, his fingers tracing languid circles along your thigh.  

He chuckled softly, low and indulgent. “You have been,” he murmured, his warm breath fanning across your skin. “Perhaps if you continue to behave...I might let you roam freely around the house when I’m not here.” He looked up, giving you a small, playful smile that made your heart stutter.  

The thought of moving freely, without the heavy, omnipresent clink of the chain dragging behind you, sent a thrill through your veins. You clenched your hands into fists, desperate to keep your excitement contained.  

“I can be good,” you whispered, fingers drifting to his hair, threading through the soft strands as you stroked his head. “I can be good for you, Alastor...” 

A groan escaped him, his eyes falling shut as he leaned into your touch, savouring the sensation like a man starving. Emboldened, you took a breath, letting words slip out – words you’d held back for so long, daring to hope he might grant them.  

“Maybe...” you hesitated, voice barely a murmur. “Maybe sometimes in the distant future, I could go into t-town with you?” Your fingers froze in his hair as his body tensed, muscles stiffening under your touch. You held your breath, dread and hope tangling within you, afraid you’d crossed some unseen line. Alastor’s overprotective streak was ironclad – whenever he sensed a threat, real or imagined, his vigilance would lock you down even more tightly than before.  

A heartbeat passed before he spoke. “Perhaps...” He rose to his feet slowly, drawing you up with him, a gentle smile curving his lips. “Perhaps one day, cher.” His hands slid under your legs, lifting you from the couch, his grip firm and desirous. “But for now...” he trailed off, leaving the sentence open, thick with suggestion as he carried you up the stairs.  

The scent of him, rich and intoxicating, filled your senses, mingling with the sharp, metallic undertone of old blood. Recently, he had brought up the idea of family, his eyes lighting with a dark kind of joy when he saw your loneliness. The house felt hollow most days, empty but for him, and he’d suggested a child - a little soul to fill the silent rooms.  

At first, the notion had left you reeling, uncertain, but the longer you were left alone with only your thoughts, the more the idea began to take root. Its appeal started to bloom uncontrollably like weeds in your mind.  

Now, Alastor and you spent every waking moment together in his bed, until your wishes took fruit.  

He lowered you onto the bed with an almost reverent tenderness, as though each touch was sacred, each look a silent promise. He shed his clothes slowly, his eyes never leaving you as his skin emerged, bare and raw. By the time he climbed onto bed, leaning over you, his desire was unmistakable – his cock hardening just from watching you laid out beneath him.  

He hovered for a moment, his face close to yours, and his gaze softened as his hand brushed along your cheek. “Cher,” he murmured, a plea woven into his tone, his voice low and thick. His fingers traced down the side of your face as though memorizing you by touch alone. “Will you let me...feel you tonight?” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, slow and lingering, each word like a promise. “For the rest of the night?” His hips lowered, pressing himself against your thigh, his warmth branding you.  

Heat flared through you, your body’s response instant and shameless. Every part of you remembered him – his hands, his mouth, the way he claimed you until the world slipped away. Your body answered before your mind could, a warmth pooling low in your stomach as he lifted the hem of your dress, slowly baring your skin. You sat up, letting the fabric fall away, and his eyes flickered, his gaze dropping to your bare breasts. Your only cover now a thin piece of cloth hiding the most intimate part of you.  

Alastor’s grin widened, his gaze roving from the pebbled peaks of your nipples down to the damp fabric between your thighs. His hands traced down, catching the waistband and tugging it free. His touch lingered over each inch of exposed skin as he pulled it over your thighs, past the bruises on your ankle, until you lay just as bare before him.  

Your legs fell open, your slick folds glistening in invitation, your body traitorous in its eagerness. Alastor’s eyes darkened, his fingers tightening around his cock as he gripped himself, slow strokes stoking his own arousal as he stared, captivated by your wetness. 

“The thought of you carrying my child, cher...it drives me mad.” His voice was a rough whisper, his breaths shallow as he stroked himself harder, faster, his eyes on your throbbing core. “It drives me to the edge,” he murmured, his grin feral as he leaned closer, his gaze smouldering with dark intent. “Drives me to the point of bloodlust,” his adam’s apple bobbed up then down, his grin trembling as it couldn’t stretch further lest it tore through his cheeks.  

You swallowed, your pulse quickening at the edge of his words, at the memory of the shadows he kept hidden – the bloodstained cellar, the bodies you helped him to clean. Whether you were here or not, you knew he would continue to kill, as relentless and ruthless as ever.  

"Ah, cher,” he sighed, settling his body over yours, his hard length pressing flush against your entrance, teasing you with his warmth. “Cher, cher, cher,” he murmured, his voice a low chuckle as he brushed his fingers through your hair, wrapping it around his fingers. “Why do you have to be so lovely?” His nose skimmed your hairline, nuzzling his way to your temple, where he pressed a slow, heated kiss. “Why do you tempt me like this?” 

“You’re all I think about, dream about,” he murmured, his voice honey-sweet as he pressed his mouth against your skin, each word a whisper trailing down your cheek, your neck, and finally, open-mouthed and lingering on the curve of your breast. “So much so, cher, that I sometimes imagine killing you.” His tone was soft, unsettlingly jovial as though he’d confessed a secret desire, his hands tracing delicate patterns over your skin.  

Your heart pounded, memories flashing across your mind like dark, haunted snapshots – the cellar door muffling desperate cries, the hollow silence that followed. The scent of blood hung thick in those memories, the darkness swallowing up the faces that haunted you. Your hands trembled, a pulse of fear mingling with something deeper, something you could barely acknowledge.  

“But I won’t,” he murmured against your skin, pulling you from the spiral of those memories. He lifted his hand to catch a tear that had slipped from your eye, his thumb brushing it away softly. He gazed at the glistening drop before licking it from his fingertip, his eyes darkened as he held you captive in his gaze. “I would never hurt you, cher. Have I ever hurt you?” His voice was quiet, coaxing yet intense, his question leaving no room for escape.  

His eyes burned into yours, searching, unwavering. “Tell me, cher,” he pressed, his voice as smooth as silk but laced with a demand that made your pulse stutter. “Do you see me as a bad man?”  

There were moments when Alastor felt so delicate, so gentle that he might as well have been made of glass, every touch featherlight. But there were others, moments like this, when he shifted – his possessive grip, his words, his gaze – all dark and consuming. When he asked these questions, you felt like a bird trapped in his cage, heart fluttering as you tried to find the right words.  

Your lips quivered, unable to form a reply, the silence thick as more tears slipped down your cheeks. Alastor’s gaze softened just slightly, and he gathered you close, arms wrapping around you as he rocked you, as if you were a fragile, precious thing in his hold. “Shh,” he whispered, his lips against your hair, “I love you, cher. I love you, I love you,” he repeated, his voice lilting like a lullaby.  

Your mind fractured, the edge of your memories sharp, each fragment glinting in the dark recesses of your mind. You reached out within yourself, searching, groping for the piece of you that had loved him first – the man you’d met one hazy night at the speakeasy, the man who seemed to light up the room just by existing.  

Slowly, you let your hands drift to his back, your fingers pressing against the warmth of his skin. Your eyes closed, more tears slipping free as you tried to remember the feeling of joy, of laughter that you’d felt with him. Your lips brushed against his shoulder, a tentative sign of trust as he sighed, his body relaxing under your touch.  

You dug deeper, sifting through memories of that laughter, of your first dance, your first kiss – all those quiet, gentle confessions that had once coloured his eyes in soft brows. You found yourself on your knees, clutching at those fragments with desperate hands, determined to recall the moments when his touch had felt safe, cherished.  

“Shh,” Alastor’s mouth hovered over yours, his lips ghosting against yours, a barely there whisper of warmth. “It’s alright, cher. I have you.” He guided himself against you, pressing gently, his cock slipping slowly into your wet, pulsing heat. His mouth melded to yours as his tongue traced along the seam of your lips, savouring each taste as his low moans mingled with your soft gasps.  

A hum escaped him, rich and satisfied, as he sank into you, his body pressed to yours, filling you with a quiet intensity that left you breathless. The salted trails on your cheeks lingered as your lips curved into a slow smile, your legs parting, welcoming him deeper, your heart opening despite everything, the echoes of his whispers filling the night.  

“Good girl,” Alastor groaned, his hips pushing forward, stretching you around the hard, unyielding thickness of him. “Oh, cher, you’re perfect for me,” he murmured, his words a deep, reverent moan as he sank in deeper, inch by inch, until he was completely enveloped. His hands settled possessively on your hip, his eyes devouring the sight of you.  

“I’m going to fill you with my seed all night, love,” he purred, rolling his hips with a languid, maddening rhythm. “After all, your body is begging me to take you – wouldn't you say?” His voice rose with playful amusement, the bed creaking beneath you as if echoing his delight.  

“Yes,” you gasped, breathless, the sensation of him making you tremble. “Please,” you whispered, your nails pressing into his shoulders, urging him closer. Alastor drew his hips back slowly, agonizingly, until only the tip of him remained, only to push back in, the pace deliberate, every inch of him dragging against you with intent. Each movement seemed to ignite a new flame within you, stretching your pleasure, drawing it out until it was almost unbearable.  

“Look how good you are for me,” he whispered against your flushed cheek, his lips tracing his words into your skin. “Look how perfect you are,” he breathed, sinking deeper as he tightened his arms around you, locking you into his rhythm. “No one will understand you the way I do. You were destined to be mine.” His voice was rich, warm, but tinged with darkness that was both thrilling and terrifying.  

“Al-Alastor,” you whimpered, each thrust stoking the tension building inside, reaching deeper, pulling you into a spiral of desire and delirium. His moans, his heated words, his relentless pace – all of it washed over you like a fevered dream. Each breath, each sigh and whispered praise tangled together in a symphony of need.  

The creaking of the bed became louder, and with a sudden surge, he lifted himself, teeth gritted, and drove into you harder. His hips snapped against yours; his pace relentless.  

“Cher...cher...” he growled, beads of sweat glistening on his brow as he focused on you, his gaze hungry. “That’s right, cher,” he chuckled breathlessly, each laugh broken by the sound of his hips smacking against your own. “Oh, you’d make a perfect mother,” he panted, his words nearly incoherent as he picked up his pace. The final thrust left you both gasping, his grip on you tightening as he finally reached his own release, filling you with powerful, pulsing bursts of warmth.  

You moaned in frustration, your pleasure still simmering, unsatisfied, leaving your skin taut with need. You tried to move, but Alastor held you firmly, pressing himself deep inside, his body still wrapped around yours.  

He brushed a stray lock of hair from your face as he slowly softened within you, the warm rush of his seed starting to trickle down. When he finally withdrew, his fingers slipped to your entrance, pressing lightly to try and keep every last drop inside, as if marking you as his.  

Lying on his side beside you, he gazed at you, his expression gentle as he took in your flushed, tear-streaked cheeks, still needy with unfulfilled desire. A smile tugged at his lips when you also turned to your side to face him. His eyes drifted down, and you knew he was watching his own essence escape, sluggishly slipping down and pooling on your inner thighs. He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your shoulder.  

“Don’t worry, cher,” he said quietly, his voice low and calming. “I’ll take care of you, again and again, tonight.” He withdrew his fingers, now slicked with his and your arousal. “Until your body takes my seed, we’ll keep trying,” he promised, his gaze flickering down between you both before meeting yours with a playful, boyish grin.  

With a breath that finally began to steady, you raised a hand to his face, touching his cheek tenderly. He turned to press a gentle kiss to your palm, a quiet moment of warmth shared in the aftermath.  

In moments like these, in the field of fractured memories, you saw one shard glinting brighter than the rest, pulling you toward it. It was a piece of you – something essential, something more truthful and dangerous than anything else. It shimmered with dark clarity, cutting through the shadows of doubt and lingering despair. 

You drifted past the memories that still haunted you, not quite registering the images that flooded your mind. Alastor’s eyes, once warm, turning nearly black with fury the night you tried to leave, his grip like iron as he vowed you’d belong to him. You passed by the moment he chained you to the cellar walls, his victims mere echoes in the darkness, his voice soothingly venomous, telling you that no one else could ever understand you as he did.  

Each scar those memories left on your soul was still fresh, a raw edge in the depths of your mind, fragments of yourself that would never heal.  

But in this one shard – this singular piece of undeniable truth – you saw something more. It was in these quiet, raw moments after he’d loved you, held you close, his breath mingling with yours. It was here, next to him in the aftermath, that you could almost believe he was the only soul in this world who would ever love you with such consuming fervour.  

You dragged your body closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, as his arms immediately circled protectively around you. His eyes softened as you leaned closer, drawing him into a gentle kiss. Your lips grazing his in a tender, slow exchange that felt achingly real. His fingers traced up and down your back, as if branding his name on your skin.  

In this quiet, lonely world, he was your guiding light, a burning soul who consumed all but left you somehow whole. You wanted to hold on to him, to keep him by your side. You feared whatever darkness lurked beyond Alastor, the fear of the unknown paled in comparison to the thought of leaving the one person who had vowed to love every fractured, scarred piece of you.  

He needed you, just as much as you needed him.  

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

[writing-goblinnilmerg]

Made with Love | Neteyam x reader

Word count: 1k

Summary: Gift-giving is a love language that you and Neteyam have in common

Masterlist

Gif cred: @moonlightsolo

It started with a flower. When Neteyam professed his undying love for you, Kiri had helped him prepare a bouquet to sway your favor. They were iridescent and glimmered enough to light up your whole hammock. You accepted them with a wide smile, happy to find out that he shared your affections. Even now, when you close your eyes, you can still see how the purples and blues swirled together and pulsed as if they had heartbeats. “As beautiful in the dark as you are in the light”, Neteyam had explained.

A few weeks later, you were stalking a meer deer together when a particular type of plant caught your eye. This plant had leaves that changed color as the sun rose and set, and were large enough to cover your whole palm. While Neteyam was waiting patiently for the deer to walk somewhere more uncovered, you carefully picked a few leaves from several of these plants and arranged them in a shape that Jake had once showed you. He called it a rose, and had similarly made a large mat in this shape using a different plant’s ginormous leaves for a date night with Neytiri. You adored how Neteyams eyes lit up when you tapped his shoulder to show him. He carefully cradled it in his hands then cautiously placed it atop his sling bag.

Now, you were carefully painting spherical wooden beads a deep shade of blue that matched your eyes. You stuck your tongue out in concentration and you filled in the last blank space and set it to dry next to a set of yellow beads of a similar size and shape. You thinly braided a piece of Kinglor silk, large enough to fit around your bicep and hopefully Neteyam’s. As soon as the beads finished drying, you threaded them into the silk in a pattern that you knew Neteyam would recognize. You carefully wrapped the band in those same leaves that you had manipulated into a rose all those months ago. You gently put it in a pouch strapped to your leg and whistled to call your ikran.

Neteyam, meanwhile, was wrapping a panopyra stem around the edge of a meticulously produced bow that he had made himself. He gave the string a twang to make sure that the tension was right so that you could use it to hunt alongside him. The bow had carved symbols in it that could be felt if you ran your thumb across it, as was your habit. Important dates had been inscribed, such as your birth, your first meeting with your ikran, and the day that you were reborn in the clan as a valuable hunter. He summoned his ikran and placed the bow in a bag attached to his saddle. He took off with a cry.

***

When you arrived to your date night atop the hallelujah mountains, a familiar rose-shaped mat decorated the ground and blinking shimmerflies floated lazily in the air, attracted by the honey-sweet meal that Neteyam had lovingly prepared for you. He greeted you warmly with a tight hug and a peck on the cheek.

“I have missed you, Yawne,” he took your hand in his and guided you to the mat, “I have something for you.” He smiled and reached behind him, where a package lay. Your curious eyes scoured it before taking it in your own hands and gently removing the wrapping. You gasped softly as a beautiful bow revealed itself. Your fingers delicately traced the curve and felt each intricate marking. The string was soft against your fingers and as you pulled it taut, you could feel the precision and strength of your weapon. Soft dips the size of your fingers were shaped into the grip; this bow was made to your exact specifications.

Neteyam confidently watched your eyes devour the bow and your hands feel every last detail, from the paint on the wood to the soft string. He was certain that you would adore it.

“I am glad you like it, paskalin.” He murmured. Your head snapped up and your lips slightly parted as you remembered your own gift. You scrambled to the pouch strapped to your leg and pulled out the bundle. His eyes lit up when he saw the parcel.

His nimble fingers pulled the shiny leaves away and you collected them in your hands to reuse on another project as he lifted the armband to see it better. You grinned when you realized that you had correctly matched the color of the yellow beads to his eyes; they were almost identical. You helped him fasten it around his bicep and he kissed the top of your head lovingly. The yellow beads contrasted nicely against his blue skin, and the navy blue beads that represented you shone in the moonlight.

“Thank you, yawne.”

“And thank you, Neteyam.”

You leaned into him and he passed you a serving of the delicious meal he had prepared. You laughed softly together as you talked about nothing and everything, gazing at the stars and pointing out constellations. Once every bite of the feast had been digested, you laid on your backs and beckoned your ikrans closer to protect against the freezing wind. Neteyams tail wrapped around your bare thigh, providing a comforting feeling of protection, and you could feel your handmade armband strain around his muscle when he put his arm around you. You felt a tension release from your chest and Neteyam gently murmured in your ear until you fell asleep in his arms.

***

Later, when the RDA and Quaritch returned in full force and there was little time for teenaged romance, a single arrow would appear in your bunk in the camp. This arrow was always decorated with one stunningly bright yellow bead, the color of an early morning sunrise on the Upper Plains, and another deep blue bead, the color of the liveliest rivers in Kinglor Forest. You would sling it next to your bow and jump onto your ikran, racing to the top of the hallelujah mountains where your Neteyam would be waiting for you.

Divider cred: @cafekitsune

[saioratral]

forget - mysterious figure who happens to be good at manipulation? what could go wrong? (gn! reader) warning: mentions pills  note: i 100% went off topic cause i took some flu tablets and now my brain is just everywhere so hopefully this fits your request :) i am one blink away from falling asleep on my table and i might rewrite if it doesnt fit your request ^^

another night spent mindlessly watching tv, your eyes glued to the screen as the world outside becomes a blur. you sat from sunrise, after watering your plants and finishing house chores. you didn’t move a muscle, except for the occasional shifts to get more comfortable. the subtitles become your reading material for the day once again.  

you hear the door open, the clicking of the lock reminded you what time it was but you never got up. instead, you pulled your blanket closer to yourself, burying yourself in the fabric you felt safe in. 

“still watching tv, love?”, a disappointed sigh follows from his voice 

a plastic bag lands on the coffee table with a soft thud to accompany. you don’t make an effort to reach for it. your body was too relaxed to move a muscle. another sigh from him as he leans over, pushing the bag closer, his unfamiliar cologne being overshadowed by the smell of your favourite food.

“you keep forgetting to eat”, he murmurs, almost like he was reading a script. “how long will you keep doing this?” 

he walked into your room, long gone from your vision. you shrug, sitting up from your seat with the blanket draped on your shoulder. you realise how inconvenient it would be for you to eat, so you get up and sit on the floor this time, using the coffee table as your dinner table. 

you quickly open up the box and take out the spoon from the packaging. the smell of food hits you, and your stomach growls in response. your hands tremble as you pick up the spoon, ready to eat. heavens must have blessed you with a drink to accompany the food and you quickly take a sip before taking a bite- 

wait… wait a minute 

you stop the food entering your mouth, the spoon near your lips as if teasing you to eat it but you didn't. there’s a strange taste, something off about your drink. the condensation on the cup catches your eye, but that’s not what makes your pulse quicken. it’s the nagging feeling that something isn’t right.

"who brought me this...?" you whisper to yourself 

the man, where was he? you saw him enter your room. bracing yourself, you get up and grab the plastic fork that came with the food and pull your blanket tighter around you as if it can shield you from whatever this is.

almost quietly, you flick the lights open but there was no one. your stuff were still in place. you look at the bathroom, the light off meaning it was empty… huh? you hear your front door close, a lock sound followed confirming your suspensions.

your body froze… just what the hell was going on here? you race back to the living room and everything’s the same except your food. it was closed shut, to keep the food warm and there was a tissue neatly folded under the drink. 

turning left, you notice the light of your kitchen open. you slowly tip toed there, to catch whoever it was. you enter the kitchen and stop dead in your tracks. he’s there, looking impossibly calm, teal hair perfectly styled, a man who feels like a stranger, though you know you’ve seen him before.

“what are you doing?”, he asks 

technically it should be you asking, but his question made you freeze. your throat does not allow a single sound to escape, and you stare at him for a minute. you stupidly stood with a fork aimed at him.

“who are you?”, you demanded him to speak. “and what are you doing in my house?” 

“im rin.. your boyfriend? you forgot your pills again, didn't you”, rin’s eyes flicker toward you, lips curling slightly at the corners

pills? what pills? you don’t even know what he was even talking about. before you can react, rin has already closed the space between you. out of fear, you back up and point the fork more directly this time. he sighs, looking tired from whatever he was up to before he came home. 

“enough”, rin says and forcefully snatches your fork 

great. now you were defenceless and keep backing up from him. he moves closer, and instinctively, you back up until your legs hit the edge of the counter. he places a hand on your waist, lifting you onto the counter like you’re nothing, like you belong there.

"where are your slippers, love?" rin’s voice is sickly sweet, a tone that makes you feel like you're supposed to answer

“slippers..? i think i left them in my room", you stammer. “and you- you’re really my boyfriend?”

"you need this," he adds, offering the pill along with the drink from earlier

he finally pulls out an unfamiliar orange bottle from the cabinet. when did you ever have that? why can’t you remember? you look at him, as if asking what it was but his piercing teal eyes made you forget. 

“take it”, rin demands softly, but you picked up the force in his voice. “don’t make this harder than it needs to be”

now, as a sane and intelligent person, you shouldn't consume a pill you aren’t familiar with. this hot man was handing you a pill, you should obviously deny it but you swallowed it like the kids that always enter the haunted house instead of just leaving. are you the main character of a movie? if so, you were doing a horrible job.

"i told you," rin leans in closer, his hand resting on the counter, trapping you in place as you struggle to keep your thoughts together."you need to take care of yourself. eat more. take your medicine."

“what was that medi-”

“i got gummies if it tasted bad” 

rin cuts you off, offering a packet of your favourite green treats. you take it, opening it while looking at him weirdly. why were you suddenly feeling dizzy? how could you not remember who he was?

“take care of yourself properly. okay?”, rin asks for confirmation 

you nod, despite the chaos of confusion in your mind. you feel like you're losing grip on everything, everything except him.

“look at me”,  hand suddenly shifts, gripping your jaw with a sudden force that makes you flinch, but he doesn’t let go. “relax” 

he leans in, resting his forehead on yours, allowing you to dismay all the alarming bells ringing in your head. his gaze shifts downward, and before you can even process the thought, his lips are on yours. the kiss is overwhelming, leaning more on controlling. your body responds despite the internal conflict, too lost to remember who you were before him.

because he's your boyfriend, right? he must be. he wouldn't hurt you. he wouldn't make you feel this way if he didn't care.

of course, he’s your boyfriend. he’s just taking care of you, isn’t he? he definitely wasn’t your old childhood friend from your hometown who made you take non prescribed pills to mess with your brain after you rejected him. he also definitely didn’t tamper with your drink to make the effects last longer.  

why would he? 

rin is your boyfriend after all, silly!

© saioratral 2024-25 -- do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission. Any characters used in my work do not belong to me, they are created by their original creator. all images used are from pinterest

[endereies]

BREAK UP DRUG - MS

No Nut November - Day 16

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ Matt has to choose between his income and 'family' or the love of his life

“You heard me right, Sturniolo. I don’t care if you love the girl or if you hate her guys but you need to sort this shit out.” His words came out cold. All he did was stand in front of Matt, the extra inch or two in height being pushed to it’s advantage. 

“It was jus-“ He cut Matt off again. “You’re losing focus Matt, get your head out that girl’s ass!” 

Matt just stood; his arms crossed defensively across his chest. This was meant to be a typical deal, but after Matt got distracted on the phone and grabbed the wrong parcel, that fell apart. He was calling you, listening to his favourite sound as you rambled about this new nail set you got. Every detail was planned out in the design. And somehow the pink chrome was all his eyes could focus on, ending up in him grabbing a package with a whole other content. 

It held heroin and he had to deal coke. A busted lip later, Matt had angry members surrounding him along with the pulsing ache of his skin. He hadn’t meant to. He hadn’t wanted to. Once again, he caught too wrapped up in you and the innocence you stood for. 

Matt often claimed how pure you were, not in a craze for corruption, but a sense I’d admiration that you hadn’t fell into why he had. If the saying opposites attract was true, all anyone had to do was pick the pair out in a crowd.  

“Matt. Are you even listening. It’s either the girl, or us. Friend or foe.” Matt grimaced hard. 

“She isn’t a foe.” He took a step towards Matt, further pushing his boundaries. 

“She may not be. But she is causing us to make a ton, we aren’t compromising ourselves because you’re pussy whipped.” Matt wanted to make a comment but held back behind gritted teeth. 

“Fine.”  

He walked away without a decision made. How was me meant to pick between the love of his life and his family he gains an income from. He felt like he couldn’t live without either of them, or it simply messed with his head. 

Matt returned home, eager to forget everything. Finding you kicking your feet as you lay on his bed made this chest tighten. He couldn’t let you go but fuck the danger you were in around him was wrecking his mind. 

Everything clouded his choices. He needed both. His only income, with a criminal record he was able to bag. After being with those people for years made him felt like be belonged, the rush was a bonus. And then there was you, a girl from the otherwise of town who was unfamiliar with the harsh settings. The window visits to you. The deals and risk of getting caught by police. He was fucked. 

“Baby! You’re home.” Your whole body perked up at his presence and you pushed yourself up. 

“Yeah... how are you, love.” You just beamed him a smile, holding your hands to present your nails. It was obvious you were satisfied with them. “Better after these, I’m obsessed.” 

To be honest, he wasn’t even looking at the nails as you rambled again about them and the appointment. Matt was staring at your features, the small freckles that dotted your face, your nose as it scrunched after certain words, the loudness yet sweet tones of your voice. He couldn’t get sick of any of it. How the fuck was he meant to decide.  

If Matt fucked up one more time, he was either out for good or he’d be holding your hand for the last time.  

“They are beautiful, pretty girl. You happy?” He took his placed alongside his love, your eyes longing into his. Your hands traced the light stubble on his jawline, letting him feel your new nails. The sensation made him relax. Yet he felt it wasn’t enough anymore. Previously, he could ignore his worlds colliding. It was a secret to you, the drugs, the everything. He just couldn’t taint the image you provided yourself because he wanted to get high.  

Whether she smelt it or not, it was never mentioned. Neither was going to his side of town. The window trips into the night weren’t just a romantic gesture. They were a way of always bringing the couple to your house, where no one knew Matt. It was safer. 

Safer. 

That’s all he ever wanted, you to be safe. If you were with him, you wouldn’t be. If he ever cut ties with the gangs and affiliations, the past would follow him. He’d seen it before, and it wasn’t pretty. It was the average movie stereotype of ‘beating them to a pulp’. Matt had information about the business, the connections and that was enough. It followed him in his shadow. 

“Baby.” Your mouth stopped moving as silence fell and Matt closed the distance, his hands running down your sides to reach your hands. “We have to break up.” 

Your hands fell flat, not holding his anymore as your breath swallowed. “What. Where is this coming from, Matt...” You spoke through gritted teeth before stepping out of his.  

“I...” He paused. “I can’t tell you why” With the nickname that came moments before you had begun to think it was a joke, until your gaze held strong with Matt’s. It was reserved, blank of any prominent emotion other than resentment. To you. 

“Wait. You’re serious?” You looked up to him ignoring the tears in your eyes. His own looked down to you, down on you. 

The truth wasn’t easy. But having to lie to you felt almost worse, knowing he had no initial doubt until it concerned your danger. He’d risk his job a thousand times before considering you out in the open.

“Yeah, I’m serious. This just isn’t working; this can’t work out for us.” Only one truth hid in those lines. It couldn’t work out, not when he was so enamoured by everything you did.

“I don’t understand Matt. What isn’t working for you, I can change it, please.” You stare at him intently, hoping for any kind of remorse to peek through. He couldn’t understand why he was in this position. One minute, he is selling a bag to his deal and return adequately to class. Yet now it was the cause.  

It wasn’t one part of you that he hated, it’s impossible with the amount of care he put into you. “Unless you plan to change into another person overnight so that I don’t care about how I see you, then no. You can’t.”

“Is that it?” minimal word choices seemed to be the pixel catalyst of panic in your mind.

He didn’t want it to be, never. You were the girl he imagined so many experiences with, the one who supported you through college and coursework. As soon as you stormed away he knew it was really over. There simply wasn't any room for jokes, no room in her bed for you.

The choice had been made for his future and he hope that he made the right minds. Their hearts have it in them to pure, no matter how low.

The next step was trying to discreet you from his mind. Fuck.

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerrss @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @jassturn @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @ribread03 @slutf4rmatt @spaghetti835928383

© ENDEREIES 2024

[revelboo]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TELL ME WHERE YOU GOT THAT ITA BAG 😭 I NEED TO MAKE A STARSCREAM ONE IF THEY HAVE HIM

It’s from this seller on Etsy. They have Misfire, Sunstorm, and Slipstream left looks like. I keep going back to look at Misfire and talking myself out of it, but he’s so pretty

Point of Extinction Pt 5

TFP Shockwave x Reader

• “Come, Thirteen.” Servos flexing, he waits as you look up at him then hesitantly approach. Still less trusting now since you’d seen Fourteen even though he’d gone to great lengths to move his experiments into a soundproofed area far from your cage since. It shouldn’t matter, but this new fear of him snarls uneasily in his processor and spark. Makes those ghosts of memories surface more often. Because he broke your trust in him or because your fear is something familiar? It’s all illogical, counter to what he knows, but when you come to him and allow him to curls his servos around your little frame, the chaos eases. Calms.

• Having no idea what he wants with you, it’s hard to make yourself approach him when you can still picture what he’d done to that deer. The sounds it had made. Nothing makes noises like that unless it’s in excruciating pain. But there’s no point resisting him, making him have to reach to grab you might make him angry and that might land you on an exam table. Right now he seems content to scan you periodically and to ask questions. Lifting you clear from your cage, Shockwave settles himself at his desk and sets you down on top of it before reaching for one of the apparently hundreds of identical packets of MREs you really don’t want to think about how he came to possess. Sliding it toward you, but keeping the servo on it. “Do you fear me, Thirteen?” Reluctantly you nod, glancing up at that glowing optic then away. “What does that feel like?”

• Your eyes dart to him and away, arms wrapping around yourself while he waits. Needing to know, to untangle the illogical with facts. Things he can weigh and quantify. Little shoulders lifting, you wrap your arms around yourself. “Nervous?” When he doesn’t move, you blow out a breath. “Like something skittering inside me, breaking me apart from the inside. Like I can’t breathe or move. I don’t know how to explain it. Don’t you get scared?” No. He doesn’t feel anything, except this vague unease he can’t understand. But sometimes those memories that don’t fit ring through him. That stranger had been terrified at the end. Relinquishing the food, he watches you reach for it and sit down to tear at the packaging. “Do you feel anything?”

• His helm tips, that single optic flaring brighter as he stares at you. Had he felt anything when he’d hurt that animal for science? Any guilt at all? “No,” he says as your shoulders sag. Then his servo is under your chin, tipping it back up as he stares at you. “It bothers me.”

• Why had he admitted that? It’s makes no sense as his servo lingers against your throat, feeling your pulse. And you reach up to lay a little palm on him. “If you want to talk about it,” you murmur, offering him an uncertain smile. A tiny bit of trust despite still fearing him. No, he doesn’t want to talk about it. Can’t explain that sometimes his memories aren’t his. That in his dreams, his plating is white and blue, not purple. That he comes out of recharge shaking uncontrollably, feeling like his spark is being torn between now and a past that isn’t his. And maybe never was. That he always feels like he’s dreaming and numb to everything but the constant tide of frustration seething inside him.

Previous

[cityof2morrow]

3-in-1 Supermarket 001

Published: 1-13-2024 | Updated: 1-15-2024 (Counter 1/4 FIX) SUMMARY The 3-in-1 Supermarket collection (Simmons, 2023) includes items from Asamo Sims (2005), Sims Connection (2006), and Simplan-X (2006), edited and expanded. Mix and match items to create your own, unique supermarket design.

DETAILS Requires all EPs/SPs §100-700 | Buy Mode All files with “MESH” in their filenames are REQUIRED for all textures/recolors to show properly. To use the SmartGarden Kiosk, you must have the Planting Overhaul mod (Lamare and Tvickiesims, 2023) installed. Finally, you need one of the following: Shift Everything (Lamare, 2022) OR Object Freedom 1.02 (Fway, 2023). Some recolors may be bundled in the same file, so be careful deleting swatches in-game. Some objects may need to be shifted upward once for ideal placement.

WARNING: The SmartMarket Kiosk, SmartGarden Kiosk, and TV objects have pulsing, flashing, and glowing light effects. If you are sensitive to visual noise, download the LIGHT SENSITIVE version of this set. Only use ONE version in-game at a time. ITEMS Hanging Grocery Bags (Deco) (896 poly) Area Dividers 001-002 (Deco) (59 poly) Barrier Gate (334 poly) Barrier Fence (910 poly) - *not in the collection file. Basket (292 poly) Cash Register (533 poly) Cabinets (Deco) (408-548 poly) Cleaning Deco (1295 poly) Counter 001 (240 poly) Counter 002 (32 poly) Counter 003 (264 poly) Counter 004 Bagstation1  (240 poly) Counter 005 Bagstation2 (184 poly) Counter 006 (286 poly) Boxed Foods Display (396 poly) Shopping Cart (Shelf) (776 poly) Counter Shelf (417 poly) Displays 001-004 (Deco) (206-470 poly) Display 005 (Functional Grocery Bin) (1910 poly) – purchase groceries by clicking on any part of the object; place a shelf inside for additional storage/sale space. Display 006 (Functional Fridge) (738 poly) – store/sell spoilable food items. Display 007 (488 poly) Fridge Shelf (Functional) (834 poly) – store/sell spoilable food items. Shelves & Half Shelves (Left, Right, Center for each) (10-62 poly) SmartMarket and SmartGarden Kiosks (~1472-1650 poly) – purchase groceries, seeds, and fertilizer respectively. Supermarket Sign (2-Story) (352 poly) TV Display (1276 poly) DOWNLOAD (choose one) REGULAR VERSION from SFS | from MEGA LIGHT SENSITIVE VERSION from SFS | from MEGA *A known game bug may disable some shelf slots. If you cannot access more than 2 slots on the hosiery/lingerie racks (the ones with 4 or 6 bars), download ONE these fixes: MORE_Custom-objects-placeable-on-shelves (Numenor, 2006) MORE_Custom-objects-placeable-on-shelves+LOCKEDTILES (Numenor, 2006) Object Freedom 1.02 (Fway, 2023) CREDITS Thanks: AL Wood Actions/Reducing GUIDs/OBJs (@hugelunatic, 2022). Sources: Any Color You Like (@curiousb, 2010), Basket Cage (H.A., n.d.), BBNiche1Master (BuggyBooz, 2012), Beyno (Korn via BBFonts), Cubic Dynamics (EA/Maxis), DOECHII Screen Kiosk (retr0black, 2022 via Creative Commons Attribution), EA/Maxis, Great Groceries Display (Balkopat, 2020), Grocery Store Part 1 (Jacky93sims, 2023; Severinka, 2022; Bodegababy, 2021), Kitchen Basic (Hafiseazale, 2016; BuggyBooz 2008), Kitchen Basic Extras (Hafiseazale, 2016; BuggyBooz, 2010), Offuturistic Infographic (Freepik), One More Slot Package (OMSPs) (SilentLucidity, 2009), Planting Overhaul (@lamare-sims and @tvickiesims, 2023), Shop Essentials (Simplan-X, 2006), Shopping Set (Asamo Sims, 2005), Supermarket (JC/Sims Connection, 2006), Images (Iskisoon, 2023; Macrovector, 2023; 2022; 2019; Photographeaasia, 2023; Freepik, 2023; Upklya, 2022; Rawpixel).

[mostly-marvel-musings]

So Inappropriate

A/N: Alright, you guys wanted it, here it is. This little ficlet based off of the video that’s got our Stark Squad all riled up. Leave a comment, heart or reblog if you enjoyed it.

Pairing: Tony Stark x F! Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut-ish fluff. There is a significant age gap between the reader and Tony (say 20 years?) Also the reader is Bruce Banner’s assistant.

Word count: 1896

Tony Stark Masterlist

.

You were just about done arranging the equipment in the lab when you heard the door slide open.

“Dr. Banner, I’m done for the day unless you need me for anything else!” you called out without glancing up, not realizing the person who had walked in certainly wasn’t your boss.

“Dr. Banner has left the premises for the day, Miss Y/L/N. But I might need you for something.”

Tony Stark made an appearance, his signature smirk adorning his face as he traipsed in closer, his walk oozing all sorts of confidence and authority. Of course, your face did very little to hide the blush that creeped up, heating your cheeks in an instant.

Why did this man have such an influence on you? You’d never know.

Well, not exactly. It was pretty obvious. The genius, billionaire, playboy and philanthropist had this effect on most individuals. His natural charisma and intimidating presence was all wrapped in an impeccably trimmed-goatee-bearing handsome package. The guy was senior to you. Much senior. But there was something about him that always drew you in, an impish charm that was all too endearing, his commanding aura that compelled you to behave. Almost challenged you to confront your deepest, darkest desires.

“Earth to Y/N?” he snapped you out of your reverie, making you accidentally knock over a set of beakers kept on the platform.

Cursing under your breath, you bent to pick up the shattered glass as did Tony, resulting in your head banging against his, further adding to your embarrassment.

Just great!

“Careful, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” Tony murmured, taking the shards of glass from your hand as Dum-E, one of his bots zoomed in to sweep it all away.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark. I–I’m sorry.” you fumbled, wincing as you saw you an angry drop of red ooze out of your finger from where you had evidently cut yourself.

“Ah, you poor thing. C’mere.” not awaiting a response, Tony clutched your hand and brought it to his lips, gently sucking on your index finger all while his eyes bore into yours.

A part of you wanted to run away from the scene like a scaredy cat but, the other part was completely rooted to the spot. Not daring to move an inch, as if if you did, your little daydream would break. Your cheeks probably burnt with the heat, and you could feel your pulse rush to the part of your finger that was currently in his mouth, smarting. His tongue soothed over the cut softly, sending tingles of desire down your back, the moistness between your legs increasing with his little action.

He is your boss. Not exactly but he built this place. He was your boss’s best friend. These thoughts were quite inappropriate.

Almost as quickly as it began, he let go of your hand, his touch still lingering strong as you cleared your throat, watching his bot whir away from the scene.

“Thank you, I think. Um. For your help.” you stared at your feet, unsure what to do next.

You grabbed your things and stuffed them in your bag, very aware of the fact that Tony and signature smirk were following your every move.

Why was this man allowed to have this effect on you?

You stopped right by the door, turning back to face the man who hadn’t moved from his spot.

“Uh, Mr. Stark? You said you wanted me for something?”

“Right! Well, we have a charity, inauguration, felicitation, something here at the Tower in two days. I wanted you to come.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking at you intently as he waited for an answer.

“Oh! Are–are you sure?”

That was a surprise. You had been working with Dr. Banner for a better part of a year now however it had always been strictly professional. You were aware of the many, many galas and events that took place, you were just never a part of them. Until now.

“Yeah. I’ll have Big Green send you the details. You can bring a date. Or not.”

He winked cheekily, walking up the stairs right next to you before the doors slid open once again, gesturing you to go first.

Needless to say you were flabbergasted. A rush of excitement brought a pep in your step as you headed home, going through your wardrobe in detail and what could be a Stark-party-worthy outfit.

.

Tony’s eyes scanned the room, eager to find you in a sea of impeccably dressed people. He couldn’t shake you off from his thoughts. Not for a while now, if he would admit to himself.

His curiosity grew ever since he saw you for the first time, entering the lab and giving Bruce Banner a shy smile, eyes locking with him and holding his gaze, almost unable to look away. He sensed you were nervous, it was cute. It made his cock stir. He could not remember the last time he felt this way. You were a young, smart, vivacious thing that was too young for him, and yet he couldn’t resist you.

Not that he tried. You drew him in right from the start.

Tony had found you chatting animatedly to your boss some time later. You looked stunning in the floor-length number you had decided on. Your features were beautifully highlighted with the hair and make-up you’d chosen.

His wish to have you closer had been fulfilled as the party warmed up, people sat around in groups, drinks in their hands while conversation flowed. Of course, the Avengers had a favorite corner they had gathered at, the center of attention being the one and only, Iron Man. He was awarded a trophy for his philanthropic work earlier which now sat in his lap proudly, an almost phallic-shaped glass that had his name etched.

“I can’t be the only one thinking this.” Tony smirked, holding the award against his crotch and earning collective groans from the crowd around. The action brought warmth rushing to your cheeks, your wildly imaginative mind pictured him doing that to his member, letting out soft grunts.

“You alright, Miss Y/L/N?” Your attention was captured by someone standing next to you, pointing to your dress.

Unknown to your preoccupied self, the filled glass of wine you held had tilted enough to spill on your dress.

“Oh God! Shit!” you exclaimed, turning a few heads your way as you grabbed a few tissues to blot the spilled liquid as much as you could. The darker color of your dress masked the big stain that had probably formed.

It was hard to miss Tony’s piercing gaze as he gave you one of his lopsided grins, clearly giddy with the reaction he had hoped his stunt would achieve. If anything, one fact was becoming clearer by the day.

Your attraction towards this man was increasing and it seemed he was equally interested in you too.

.

It had been a hectic week, you sighed and leaned back against your chair, closing your eyes for a moment as your exhausted body relaxed momentarily. You couldn’t wait to get home and soak your butt in a hot bubble bath.

With the events of Ultron, there had been extra work load that you had volunteered to help out with at the Tower. You didn’t mind, of course. It meant spending a lot of time with the Avengers and a particular one at that too. Tony spent hours, sometimes days holed up in the lab, working with Bruce and yourself.

It was almost impossible not to be distracted or turned on by his presence there. To see him laser-focused at work, fingers gliding over keyboards and holograms in front of them as he paced about the space. It was all too hot.

Shutting your computer for the day, you grabbed your things and made your way out of the lab. Tony had retreated back to his floor some time ago and had promptly forgotten his phone on his work desk. It rang with a start, catching your attention and making you walk back in to grab it.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to bother the billionaire genius in his home since there had been multiple occasions where Dr. Banner asked you to summon the man whenever he got a lead on Ultron.

The elevator dinged to a stop, the doors opening to his grand living room that offered a view of New York people would kill for. His bedroom door seemed left ajar as you made your way over, stopping in your tracks as you heard a muffled groan.

Curiosity got the better of you as you sneaked a look inside his bedroom, not able to stop yourself as the sounds increased.

You felt your mouth go dry at the sight before you. Tony lay on his bed against the pillows, eyes scrunched up, pants undone., soft sighs leaving his lips as his hand moved up and down on his erect cock.

It felt so wrong to watch him pleasure himself in the privacy of his own home and yet so right, you felt yourself blush at the sight. It was like you were unable to look away, he had his fingers wrapped around his shaft, moving at a steady pace as you saw precum leak at the tip of his head. His pretty, thick lips were parted while his chest rose and fell, eyes shut in ecstasy.

You were about to peel your gaze away from the scene when you heard a faint whisper of what you thought was your name.

“Oh Y/N..” his breathy moan sent desire to pool right between your legs, a part of you still processing the whole thing while the other wanting to push that door open and join the man or perhaps help him finish.

His thumb swiped across his red tip before the pace of his strokes increased, his pants echoed in the room while you felt your entrance clench around nothing, desiring the very man who was masturbating while thinking of you.

You were sure your panties were ruined by the time Tony’s hips jerked and you saw him climax, ropes of cum spurting from his cock and spilling on his hand and lower abdomen. That had to be the hottest thing you’d seen in your life.

You definitely needed to take care of yourself after this, that bubble bath was going to be an elaborate one. His softened cock still lay open for your eyes to feast on, his cum scattered on his body begging you to be licked clean.

Your thoughts came to a standstill when the phone you held in your hand rang terribly loudly, interrupting the little moment. Your scramble to hide or run was rendered useless when Tony glanced outside and saw you.

“It is rude of you to just stand out there and watch, Miss Y/L/N. So inappropriate.”

[rileyslibrary]

Meal, Under-the-Stars

Summary: Simon’s inability to show affection irritates you. Until Valentine’s Day arrives.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,360

Notes:

angst/fluff

*sighs* it’s almost Valentine’s so *gestures aggressively at the fic*

i made sure it’s the least amount of cringe, pinky promise

Want more?

———————————————————————

You collapse in your bus seat, travelling home after another long day at the office. The chair feels too stiff, and the ride is too bumpy. That’s what you get for missing your bus and taking a different route. Damn it. Your neck is tense from the hours of hunching over the computer, and a pulsing pain has settled behind your eyes, threatening to rip your skull apart. As if your physical agony wasn’t enough, the bus’s noises aren’t helping. Without your headphones, you’re left to suffer in silence and listen to the people around you.

The two women in front of you talk nonstop about their upcoming Valentine’s Day plans. The first, with a smug look, reveals how her boyfriend has planned a romantic getaway to Europe. You can almost hear the silent “aren’t I lucky?” that hovers at the end of her sentence. Her friend humbly brags back about her partner taking her to a jewellery store where she can pick out whatever she wants. You suppress a groan and roll your eyes instead.

You turn to your left. Your attention is drawn to a man whose face is concealed by a towering bouquet of flowers. The sight of him and the enormous gift next to him makes you wonder. Could it be chocolates? The package seems too bulky for that. Lingerie maybe? It looks too heavy for delicate lace. Perhaps it contains the embodiment of his love for his significant other, ripped from his soul and transformed into a tangible form, you ponder sarcastically.

The image of Capitalism, dressed in a three-piece tailored suit and hat, sitting on a throne made of kitschy teddy bears, comes to mind. He sips a glass of wine made from rose petals and sneers at the spectacle before him: people spending their hard-earned money on unnecessary gifts and experiences, all in the name of love. When did a simple and sincere “I love you” become insufficient? When did it become necessary to spend a fortune on extravagant trips, sparkling diamonds, and wrapped boxes filled with empty promises? Did your grandparents go to such lengths to express their affection, or is this just the plague of your generation?

And why does this all bother you so much? Could it be that Simon’s inability to express his affection for you is causing your bitterness? You recall Aesop’s fable about the fox and the grapes. Like the fox, you cannot grasp what you want, so you try to convince yourself that what others have is, like the grapes, sour. Admit it: you’re envious of those who are happily celebrating Valentine’s Day, surrounded by love and affection, while you’re on your way home to a strained relationship, where love is shown through practical acts like fixing the thermostat or reminding you to take an umbrella on a potentially rainy day.

You knew he was reserved and guarded the moment you met him. “A mystery wrapped in a balaclava”, you used to jokingly call him. It took months of building rapport and earning his trust before he finally revealed his face to you. But, despite this, you find yourself wanting more. Wasn’t this enough? Get a grip, sweetheart; Valentine’s Day is for the rest of the world, not you two.

As the bus pulls to a stop, you rise from your seat and step off, feeling heavy and reluctant as you make your way home. The weight of your expectations slows your pace as if you are afraid to face reality—that the love you seek may not be the love he is capable of giving...

You reach the front steps, the cool metal of the key turning in your hand as you unlock the door. You push it open, the emptiness inside greeting you like an old friend. Something on the floor catches your attention; military bags and tactical gear are neatly arranged near the entrance. You look across the kitchen table to see a map with checkmarks on it. Has he been summoned for a mission and forgotten to tell you? No, it cannot be; this is far worse than you expected.

As you make your way down the hall, the noise coming from the bedroom fills the silence. The door is slightly ajar, and you push it open to find him standing before you, freshly showered and wrapped in a crisp white towel from the waist down. Droplets of water cling to his damp hair, with strands hanging over his forehead. His towering stature is imposing, his muscles resembling those of a Greek statue carved by a master artist. Like faded memories of battles fought, scars are dotted across his body, each telling a tale of modern warfare.

He smirks as you enter the room, but you can’t help the flare of anger that rises within you.

“You’re late,” he says, continuing to dry himself.

How dare he.

“Traffic,” you respond, trying to steady your voice. “Where are you going?”

“We are going,” he corrects you nonchalantly.

Huh?!

“W-we?” you stammer. “Simon, where are we going?”

“Out,” he says with a smirk.

You frown at him. You’re exhausted—tired of work, tired of the long trip back home, tired of his mysterious demeanour. You need answers���complete, coherent, straightforward answers—and you need them fast. Now.

“Care to explain further, Simon?” you ask, trying to compose yourself.

“We're going camping,” he says as he starts putting on his gear.

Your heartbeat quickens. Suddenly the grapes are not sour anymore. They seem sweet again.

“So, camping, huh?” you ask with a cheeky grin. “Why?”

“Don’t make me say it,” he says sternly. “I’ve seen enough atrocities to know what today is.”

“You never struck me as the romantic sort, Mr Riley,” you reply.

“Oh, but I am romantic, my love,” he corrects you. “Just not the cliché type.”

But, of course! That’s why you fell for him in the first place. He’s not your typical guy. He may not serenade you, but he’ll fix things with his own hands. And he won’t kneel on one leg to recite poetry, but he’ll ensure you’re warm, safe, and fed.

Fed. Food. Did he think about food?

“I’ll prepare something quick to take with us,” you tell him.

“No need to,” he replies. “I’ve prepared an outstanding variety of MREs for us.”

What a guy.

“What about me?” you ask pointing at his gear. “I don’t have the appropriate clothing for this.”

He looks amused. “That’s weird,” he comments. “I’m sure I saw something at the entrance earlier today.”

You stare at him, confused, dash to the front door, and inspect the gear you saw earlier. To your surprise, it’s all your size.

You slip into the gear, feeling its weight and texture against your skin. The material is rugged yet flexible, allowing you to move easily. You run your hand over the pockets, checking to ensure everything is in place, before returning to the bedroom.

As you enter, Simon looks up from his bag, and his gaze travels down your form. You stand tall and proud; sure, you’re still tired and in pain, but at least you’re happy. You twirl for him to get a better look.

He nods his approval with a smile. “You look like a proper camper,” he says jokingly. “I had no idea you had it in you.”

“Come on, Simon!” You shout, fists clenching at your sides as you stand in the doorway. “It’s Valentine’s Day,” you implore, your voice growing softer. “At least say something nice.”

He regards you, his lips curling upward in amusement. “Alright, alright,” he says, holding up his hands in surrender. “You want something nice?” He asks, and you nod, smiling.

“You got it.” He steps closer, towering over you, and gazes down with warm and tender eyes. “You look beautiful,” he says. “Absolutely stunning.”

———————————————————————

[sophsiaaa]

Bookstore/Gamestore AU time.

So, how about shigaraki visiting you at work? He doesn’t actually give a shit about reading. Like he can read, quite well actually, and he has a few books on his shelf. But we all know this man’s escapism is not found in pages. So when he comes into your bookstore, it’s 100% to get your attention.

After wandering the aisles slurping loudly on a drink can (that he later hides on a shelf) he finds you putting away stock in the back. You’re in the manga section, and shigaraki feels his pulse kick up a gear because you’re shelving those plastic wrapped ‘mature content’ books. He’s sneaks up on you.

‘What are you doing?’ he asks.

It takes you by surprise that he’s here, and even more so that he’s speaking to you. ‘Working,’ you say. And then when he just stands there, you ask, ‘Can I help you find something or?’

Which of course embarrasses shigaraki because he doesn’t need your help. What, do you think he’s stupid? He can find his own damn book. The only problem is he didn’t even come here to get a book, his subconscious brought him here to watch you in a not-totally-stalkerish way.

And because this man has ZERO rizz, he just snorts, rolls his eyes and says, ‘No. You’re just in my way.’

He proceeds to grab the first book he sees - the one in your hand - and tucks it under his arm. He tries very hard to keep still though when he realises it’s one of the plastic wrapped manga you were putting away.

You eye off the manga’s suggestive cover and glare flatly at him like he’s some sort of degenerate. ‘Oh. My mistake,’ you say, and keep on with your work.

Shigaraki huffs and heads up to the counter. He’s got to see this through. You keep side-eyeing him throughout the purchase as one of your coworkers bags the manga for him, and although he doesn’t even want this, he’s annoyed by how disgusted you seem. So what if he’s essentially buying porn? If you sell it, you shouldn’t be so judgey.

It’s not till he gets back to the game store and takes the manga out of its packaging on his break, that he sees what he bought.

Volume 12 of My 900 Year Old Boyfriend Wants Me To Suck On His Toes.