#so combined with that and how it looks in this pic it seems like growing his hair out was him finding that balance and security and comfort

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Hello love 🖤

Can I request an a-z fluffy hc for our big man Tangerine?

hii luv!! ARFG OFC OFC!! thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌 ps. that pic🫠

SFW ALPHABET

tangerine x implied female reader, 1.4k words

found lots of different templates, so I combined parts as wasn't sure

A = attractive (what do they find attractive about their partner?)

physically: feel like he's the kinda guy to like eyes. he's big on eye contact, so loves to look into your pretty eyes

mentally: I think he ironically likes morally good people. ones that are honest, selfless, kind. someone who has a good heart

B = baby (do they want a family? why/why not?)

I think yes, eventually, but because of work, there never seems to be the right time. if it happens, it happens. if it doesn't, it doesn't. but I don't think he's one to plan for one

C = cuddle (how do they like to cuddle?)

im thinking the ones when he leaves for work are his favourite. where you'd be standing by the door, arms wrapped around his middle, face in the crook of his neck, holding him tight. similarly, ones when he returns home and you're just so happy to see him

D = dreams (how do they picture their future with their S/O?)

I think the whole lot - married, kids, move somewhere when kids move out or when retire, then grow old and pruney together 

E = emotions (are they open with their emotions?)

absolutely not, but he tries. he tells you he loves you and how special you are etc, but doesn't often share things bothering him or on his mind - he tends to keep that part separate

F = feelings (when did they know they’re in love?)

I think probably very early on. maybe when he realised you could keep up with him and play along with his humour. or that you could see through him right away and not be afraid of him

G = gratitude (how grateful are they in general? are they aware of what their S/O does for them?)

yes, beyond grateful!! appreciates everything you do at home to keep things running smoothly when he's away. loves your cooking, appreciates how you love and care for him. he tells you often with words, also with gifts

H = honesty (do they have secrets they hide from their S/O?)

frankly, I think he keeps lots hidden/ doesn't share the whole truth about things. definitely minimises them too - "only a scrape," and he got shot in the arm. he does it so he doesn't scare you or fill you with dread. but he definitely tries to be more open

I = injury (how would they react if you got hurt?)

if someone hurt you? immediate death. not even a logical thought in his brain (won't actually (well...) kill them, but would have a strong desire to) if you hurt yourself he's tell you to be more careful and would help patch yourself up

J = jealousy (do they get jealous? how do they deal with it)

HA HA yes. absolutely. he's gotten better at handling it tho!! bc he now knows that he takes you home at night, not some minger at a bar. he def tries to intimidate the person talking to/ hitting on you and stares them down til they take the hint and back off

K = kiss (how do they kiss you? how do they like to be kissed?)

im thinking slow and sloppy. again ones when you say goodbye (or when he returns home) ones that are filled with love

L = love (who says ‘I love you’ first?)

I think maybe you. he's loved you long before you admitted it, but he's not into getting rejected so he makes sure you feel the same way first (even though it's obvious you do)

M = memory (what’s their favorite memory together?)

when you first started dating and you surprised him at the airport to pick him up. just seeing your cute pretty face light up with love when you spot him

N = nickel (do they spoil? do they buy the person they love everything?)

you kidding??? baby, you're getting EVERYTHING you could ever want

O = on cloud nine (what are they like when they’re in love? is it obvious to others? how do they express their feelings?)

completely smitten!! although he tries to keep your love life private, that face he makes when he's looking at you definitely gives it away. gets heart eyes, bc I say so

P = pet names (what pet names do they use?)

the best kinds. darling, love, honey, sweetheart, but not every syllable/ letter is pronounced bc his cockney accent - so like darling, with no g. it's an english thing so he says them all the time to everyone, but he has special ones that he only says to you or ways that he says them to just you - so they’re special

Q = questions (what are the questions they’re always asking?)

"im at the shop, do you want anything?" "where do you wanna go for dinner?" but he's not really one to ask philosophical questions

R = rainy day (what do they like to do on a rainy day?)

this is sfw so can't say what I usually would. but probs just movies on the sofa. maybe shared naps on the couch, or doing your own things in the same space - you reading, him filling out stuff on his laptop

S = support (are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? do they believe in them?)

very very supportive. for you only, he's a great hypeman. encourages and pushes you along when you get stuck

T = talking (what do they like to talk about?)

I honestly don't think he enjoys talking that much. he's quite quiet and it can be comforting BUT.. again, he's english so complains about the shitty government all the time. idc if this is self-indulgent, but he hates the tories so he gets passionate about politics (absolutely no way that man is right wing)

U = understanding (how well do they know their partner? are they empathetic?)

he's the kind of person who listens when you don't think they are - he keeps catalogues of information about you in his brain, like your favourite childhood movie, your least favourite smell, all these simple facts about you - he remembers. he knows you better than you know yourself, so I do think he has a deep understanding of his partner. he's not necessarily empathetic all the time, but he has his moments where he is the sweetest

V = value (how important is the relationship to them? what is it worth in comparison to other things in their life?)

nothing else can or will ever compete or compare. you'd be the singularly most important thing to him, end of. he cares about his work and money ig, but when it comes down to the very core of it, none of that really matters

W = wedding (when, where, and how do they propose?)

I think both the proposal and wedding would be somewhere remote, quiet and intimate - somewhere that has meaning to you both. thinking late summer/ early autumn (he doesn't like the heat, so when it cools down)  

X = XOXO (how affectionate are they? in public/in private)

he's not one for pda but at the same time, he likes people knowing you're his - so a hand on your knee/ thigh, a hand around your waist, sitting close to you. not a fan of making out in public, but doesn't refrain from a quick kiss here and there if he really can't help himself

but in private..?? he's all over you. kisses, lingering touches on your back when he walks past, hugs you from behind when you're doing bits around the house

Y = yearning (how well do they cope when they’re separated from their S/O?)

not good. he gets all mopey when he doesn't see you for a while, but can't let that get in the way of work, so when he's back at the hotel or car or somewhere safe he sends you a text, asking how you are, what you're up to. he just hates being apart from you

Z = zeal (are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship?)

dude, he will literally kill and die for you

would rather choke than admit he is wrong - but at the root of it, he is willing to confess to mistakes if things were to ever get too far

— — — — — — — — — — ��� — — — — — — — — — —

[soloroomies]

You, Across The Street | (a Suna Rintarou fic)

・❥・Chapter four; Year Ten (A Lesson About Life)

synopsis: At the age of five, you met the neighbor boy who lived just across the street, Suna Rintarou. As the years unfold, this story will chronicle the evolution of your friendship, year by year. But as life moves on and paths diverge, will it blossom into something more? Or will it remain a cherished bond between two childhood friends? “The lines between friendship and love often blur when you’ve known someone your entire life."

word count. 2.3k cw. childhood friends au, slow burn, middle school era, angst a/n. finally, I have time to update the story! I also have some ideas for other fics😀 Since this one is a slow burn, I'm thinking of making them too :)). Let's just see how it goes!

Masterlist

The promise you both made, though born of a fleeting moment and perhaps foolish in its spontaneity, remained sincere and heartfelt. Yet, its reliability was as fragile as glass, precariously held together by the shifting sands of circumstance. As hearts are swayed by life’s changes, what once felt certain can easily fracture and slip away.

With so many uncertainties awaiting you in the future, this might just be the beginning of how your paths will diverge.

You snapped your head towards the voice that called your name. It was Rintarou.

"Yeah?" you asked, momentarily disoriented.

You glanced around, taking in the familiar sight of Rintarou’s room. Lately, you hadn’t been able to hang out with him much because of your busy schedules. But today, thankfully, you both finally managed to find some time to chill together.

He shook his head, his eyes looking at you warily. "I said, what do you think about it? Should I just ask her out?" He leaned back against the headboard of his bed, fiddling with his hands. He was uncharacteristically nervous.

You were now at the end of eighth grade. Time had flown by so quickly, and before you knew it, middle school would be over next year. So many things had changed, yet so many things had stayed the same. Yumi and Mari were still your classmates, which made you happy, and the three of you had grown even closer. You and Rintarou also still didn’t share the same class, a constant reminder of what hadn't changed.

Some things had changed, though; biology was quickly becoming your favorite subject, you had joined the science club and were completely into it, and you’d become obsessed with snapping pics on the phone you got for your birthday—thanks to Rintarou, who definitely fueled that obsession. 

Speaking of him, he’d changed too; his voice had taken on a deep, amusing tone, he kept growing taller, and his volleyball play was getting even more serious. And guess what? He’d even developed a new interest in a girl.

What did he say about having a girlfriend just two years ago?

The girl was Misaki, a fellow eighth-grader and a star player in the girls' volleyball club, which frequently interacted with the boys' team. That’s how she and Rintarou got to know each other. You’d noticed her a few times—tall, with an athletic build, and long, silky black hair that always seemed to move gracefully with her every motion, usually tied back in a practical ponytail. Her name was often on the boys’ lips, and it was no surprise. Misaki was quite the looker, combined with her warm smile and friendly demeanor that made her incredibly popular. Honestly, you had no reason to dislike her. Really. You had no reason.

You gulped and looked at him, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach. “Well, do you like her?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He crossed his arms and furrowed his brow, contemplating your question. 

“Well, if liking the way she serves the ball and spikes it, is included in ‘liking’ her, then, yes, I like her.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head slightly. “But what about her? Do you like her as a person?”

“She’s nice, I guess,” he replied, scratching his head. “She gave me chocolates and offered advice about my blocking technique.”

He paused, then added with a shrug, “She also has nice hair.”

You nodded slowly, agreeing to him.

You tried to justify the uncomfortable feeling in your chest as envy because your friend was about to get a girlfriend while you hadn’t. But even that justification felt off. So, you pushed the feeling to the back of your mind. This kind of emotion was new to you, and you wanted to be as supportive as possible to your friend who had always been there for you.

Forcing a smile, you nudged him playfully. “Then, what are you waiting for?”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Rintarou had asked Misaki out on the last day of school, just before spring break, and Misaki, unsurprisingly, had accepted him with a radiant smile. She confessed that she had always liked him since the first year of middle school (something you’d suspected ever since Rintarou first mentioned her). She was over the moon, thrilled that he felt the same way.

The days that followed were anything but pleasant for you. Despite it being spring break, you found yourself watching from your window as Rintarou and Misaki went out every day. Hand in hand, they strolled through the blooming cherry blossoms, their laughter heard from your house. Rintarou had excused himself beforehand, explaining that Misaki had meticulously planned their break, so he couldn’t spend much time with you. He mentioned they wanted to explore new places and learn to play volleyball together with a few clubs. They even planned an out-of-prefecture trip with Misaki’s parents (who were very supportive of their relationship) to visit a renowned volleyball club.

How nice. How perfectly fitting for the both of them. They’re a match made in heaven, really. Both of them love volleyball and were popular. You should be happy he didn’t end up with someone like Ara (no offense to her, though). Yet, you found yourself far from happy. Instead, you spent your days cramped up in your room, re-reading your manga and novels, barely seeing the sun or the cherry blossoms blooming outside.

Your mother definitely noticed your mopey behavior and had the answer too about why you were acting this way. She wanted to plan a family vacation, but your father’s work was piling up, and he couldn’t take time off. So, she planned a one-day outing with you and Hana to visit your aunt who owns a flower shop.

You were pretty reluctant at first when your mother asked you to go out one morning. You’d much rather stay holed up in your room. But when she mentioned you’d be visiting your cool Obachan, your favorite aunt, you got interested. Plus, she had this beautiful flower garden and always gave you seeds to plant in your own garden. When you were younger, you used to go there more often, but these days, you rarely went. You only saw her occasionally at your grandparents' house.

So, here you were, at your aunt’s house. Nestled in the serene countryside of the prefecture, her house was a perfect mix of traditional Japanese architecture and vibrant natural beauty. On one side of the house, your aunt had set up a charming flower shop. The shop was a riot of colors and scents, with flowers neatly arranged in rustic wooden crates and ceramic pots. Roses, lilies, daisies, and chrysanthemums bloomed in profusion, creating a tapestry of nature’s finest art. Even though she lived alone, her house didn’t feel lonely. It was warm, welcoming, and full of life.

When you arrived, your aunt greeted you with a warm hug and a radiant smile that instantly brought back memories of your younger days visiting her. Her smile was a lot like your mother’s, only with a few more smile lines, reminding you she was your mother’s big sister. She served a pot of freshly brewed green tea and a plate of homemade mochi on the low wooden table as you sat on the mats covering the floor. Soon, your aunt started sharing stories about her daily life, talking about the seasons and how each one brought a new wave of beauty and tranquility.

—-

Your aunt had a bunch of flower seedlings and bulbs all set for planting. You both got to work, digging small holes in the rich soil and gently placing the seedlings into the pot.

“You’re doing great!” your aunt said with a warm smile, wiping a bit of dirt from her forehead.

You laughed, a little bashful, and shrugged. “Thanks.”

“So, how’s life been treating you lately?” she asked, glancing over while carefully patting the soil around a seedling.

“It’s fine, I guess,” you replied, your mind drifting to the past week and Rintarou with his new girlfriend. You sighed softly, trying to focus on the planting.

Your aunt paused, looking at you closely as she brushed her hands off on her apron. “I haven’t seen you in a while! You look more mature now, ___.” She gave you an earnest smile.

You smiled back, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes, and you kept your gaze down on the plants.

Your aunt set her tools aside gently and turned to face you, her brow furrowing in concern. “And even though we haven’t met for a while, I can tell something’s up.”

Your eyes widened. Was your somber mood that obvious? You bit your lip and glanced away.

“Wanna talk about it? You don’t have to, but sometimes it helps to share what’s on your mind.” She reached out and touched your hand lightly.

You hesitated, then whispered, “You won’t tell Mama?” You peeked at your mother and Hana, who were busy arranging flower buckets at another table, unaware of your conversation.

Your aunt nodded, making a zipping gesture across her lips and miming tossing away the key. “Promise.”

“It’s just... There’s someone in my life who’s changed, and it’s making me sad,” you said softly, your voice trembling a bit. “We used to go everywhere together, but now we haven’t spent a single day together this break.”

Your aunt nodded understandingly, her eyes softening with empathy. “I get it. Sometimes, as people grow and their lives change, the way they fit into ours changes too. It’s a part of life.” She gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“But why does it have to be like that? Why can’t things just stay the same?” you asked, frustration cracking your voice as you patted down the soil.

Your aunt gave a gentle smile. “Life is full of changes, honey. People grow, and so do their circumstances.”

“Well,” your aunt continued, “one day, when you’re older, you might find yourself in a different place, with different people. You might have your own family and responsibilities.”

You zoned out for a moment, then turned to look at your aunt, taking in the garden and her cozy house. How she was now living away from your mother. They used to spend time together when they were kids, didn’t they?

“Like you and Mama?” you asked tentatively.

“Exactly,” your aunt agreed, her voice soothing. “It's a natural part of growing up. Relationships change, but that doesn’t mean they’re any less important. They’re just different. And that’s okay.”

“So, are you saying I should just accept that things will change?” you asked, trying to wrap your mind around it.

Your aunt nodded. “Embrace the change and cherish the moments you have now. It’s important to be grateful for the time you share with people and to be open to new experiences and relationships that come your way.”

You took a deep breath, absorbing your aunt’s words. “I guess that makes sense. I just need to get used to the idea.”

Your aunt squeezed your hand reassuringly. “It takes time, and that’s perfectly normal. Remember, though, even if things change, the love and memories you’ve built with people stay with you. Those memories will always be a part of who you are.”

You processed her word for a moment then offered a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Obachan. I feel better now.”

Your aunt smiled back warmly. “Anytime, sweetie.”

You continued planting together until the sun set on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the garden. After dinner, you bid goodbye to your aunt, who gave you some flower seedlings. Hana also proudly carried the flower arrangement she’d made earlier.

You were glad you decided to come out of your room today.

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Today was the last day of spring break, and you felt pretty relaxed since you’d finished prepping all your stuff for school yesterday. Tomorrow was the first day of ninth grade. You sighed internally, knowing it would be way busier with all the high school entrance exam prep. You just hoped you’d get into the school you wanted.

Needing a bit of chill time, you decided to water the plants in your small front garden this morning. The seedlings from your aunt had been planted, and you were eager to check their progress every day. You grabbed the hose, turned the water on low, and started watering each plant.

As you were distracted with the watering, you suddenly noticed a pair of feet on the footpath in your garden. You looked up and saw Rintarou, smiling a little. It felt like you hadn’t seen him in forever, even though it had only been a few days. You’d see him, but not really hang out—just a wave from him as he rode his bike away or when Misaki came over to his house.

Honestly, you kind of expected you wouldn’t hang out at all this break. But here he was now.

“Hey,” he greeted you, looking a bit sheepish.

“Hey, Rin,” you replied, barely glancing at him as you continued watering your plants.

“Um…” He scratched the back of his head. “Wanna hang out?”

In the back of your mind, you really wanted to scream at him. Say something like, ‘Where’s that new cute girlfriend of yours?’ Maybe three years ago, you would have. But now, you decided against it. You didn’t want to be petty. Your aunt's words rang in your mind: embrace the change and cherish the moments you have now.

You took a good look at him—he seemed more fidgety than usual. It looked like he felt guilty? Was it because of not spending the break with you? You sighed. It wasn’t fair to make him choose between you and his new girlfriend. You’re sure if the situation were reversed, he’d be cool about it and understanding.

“Sure,” you finally said with a small smile. “Just let me finish this. I’ll ring your bell when I’m done.”

“Okay,” he answered, smiling.

“I’ll wait for you.” He stepped back and went to his house.

You didn’t know what the future held, but at least you wanted to enjoy the time you had with him now, before life took any more turns, before the inevitable changes swept you both in different directions. 

taglist: @wolffmaiden, @gojoscumslut, @boogiemansbitch, @yunskook

[chqolan]

Rashid boyfriend headcanons

A/N: rashid aka the boyfriend of all time , i can't stop thinking about him

TW: no warnings, just fluff !

rashid is the best boyfriend you could’ve asked for, but he’s always embarrassed whenever you tell him that he’s perfect.

he is the most affectionate person you know. rashid isn’t afraid to show off how much he loves you— wether it’s in public or private, he’s bombarding you with hugs and kisses.

he also gives great bear hugs!!! he’ll rock you side to side during hugs too.

with his whole streaming career, there have been many instances where you’re in his videos and live streams. his followers are familiar with you and seem to enjoy whenever you’re on camera with him!

if you’re ever camera shy, rashid won’t mind and will make sure not to film you. but chances are,, his bubbly personality will help you ease in to being on camera quite easily.

i’ve also mentioned this here, but rashid would vlog majority of your dates together. not for any uploads or for the public eye… just for you two to enjoy and keep as a sort of memory for when you “grow all old and sappy together”, in rashid’s words.

the point of him vlogging your dates also has to do with the amount of time he gets to spend with you. sometimes it could be important business trips with azam or just trips for his next videos ,, but there are moments he’s not able to be with you.

times like that make him feel extra homesick sometimes, so best believe he’ll be texting you a lot. rashid loves to hear about your day and ramble on about whatever crazy things he encountered recently! it’s always lovely to hear from him.

it goes without saying that rashid was born into a rich family and had the privilege of being wealthy all his life, so he can tend to unintentionally spoil you sometimes.

if he’s ever out on his own time, he’s always thinking of you somehow. any sort of item/piece of clothing will get bought in an instant if it reminds him of you !

due to all the money he has access to, the two of you often go on shopping dates together whenever there's time for it. luckily for you, rashid is easy to interest, so he'll be paying full attention into whatever you're planning to want.

rashid's shopping list is usually related to some sort of equipment used for his streaming. he's always been a total tech geek and never stops rambling on about different sort of cameras... you can't quite keep up sometimes, but it's cute watching him talk about something he loves.

it's worth mentioning that you two always take pictures together and have a gallery combined of cute, romantic and silly pictures !

like mentioned before, some photos were taken on dates, but some others were just random pics you two would take with/of each other

sometimes you'd both snuggle up together somewhere cozy and look back at certain photos and videos, just reminiscing and laughing at certain memories.

every moment you spend with him is full of laughter and smiles. he's like the best bf in the world <3

[fullscoreshenanigans]

Thank you for taking the time to share your art! 💖💝 Appreciation for any appreciator of REN 🖤🧡🤍🙏😌

I just finished Promised Neverland soooo

all of them drawn as adults!!!!!

[lobotoboy]

Time to combine two fixations together, and create a new thing that I'm almost 100% certain has been thought of before!

A DANGANRONPA X RIDE THE CYCLONE AU (please someone make art of this, i'll post my attempt at a jane doe pic for this au later, but im still a beginner lmao) CAST (with explanation): To preface, I wanted everyone except Jane to have died in either their game or anime arc. Ocean O'Connell Roseburg: Ruruka Ando So this one was hard, because I initially wanted to stick to just the games, but neither Mahiru nor Hiyoko fit the bill for me, so I went with Ruruka. Personally, I think she's underrated, I feel like she's very compelling, and like Ocean, has room to grow in a similar way. I think she believes her way is the best way, like Ocean, and has the potential to learn differently. Constance Blackwood: Chiaki Nanami Chiaki is an obligatory add for me, no doubt about it. Constance is UNDERRATED, LOVE HER MORE PLEASE. Sugar Cloud is all about Constance finally recognizing the good things about her life around her, and Chiaki has a similar world view in both the anime and the games. If you look in the anime especially, she's one of the few characters who seems to understand a person can have worth without having a talent, and that's something that should be praised. Also she's my best friend's (@multifanforever) wife, so she's chill ig. Noel Gruber: Nagito Komaeda Do I *really* need to explain this one? Look at him. Name me a better character to put here, I dare you. In all seriousness, Monique is giving Servant Nagito vibes, and he'd SLAY Noel's Lament. Mischa Bachinski: Leon Kuwata Leon was also a bit of an 'out of left field' (teehee) pick for me, but Mischa's a rapper and Leon wants to break into music. Mischa's got a bit of angst in him, and so does Leon. Leon and Mischa are respectful lovers of women, so I feel like they'd be buddies and thus fit.

Jane Doe: Hajime Hinata/Izuru Kamukura WHERE DO I START SDUEHFEUFHWE I LOVE JANE AND I LOVE THESE TWO FUCKS. My stupid ass husband and his evil (not really) alter ego. Aside from personal bias for my favorite characters, I think they fit the most. I could (and want to) write a dissertation about Hajime and Izuru, but for the main gist of it, the way his identity is erased in canon, lines up with how Jane doesn't know who she is. At the end too, when they pick who gets to not be dead (i honestly dont understand the ending of rtc, is it resurrection, changing the timeline, rebirth?) it could be reminiscent of Hajime coming back post Neo World Program. Also Izuru lends himself really well to a creepier design. Ricky Potts: Kaito Momota They both kind of have that kind of selfless attitude to them, Kaito's illness is a good match for Ricky's disability, and obviously space. I also headcanon Kaito as a cat person. The Amazing Karnak: Junko Enoshima To me, they have similar, joking vibes to them. I feel like she'd mess with them just as much, if not a bit more than Karnak does. The changing rules and such are just for her entertainment. Virgil the Rat: Monokuma (obvi) I feel like Monokuma would rock the bass, and obviously makes sense as the one to accompany Junko.

[missmaywemeetagain]

Got a Lotta Lovin' to Do (A Scarf Universe Story) ❤️‍🔥

Okay, sooooo...this just came to me in a strange fit of inspiration this week. It's naughty but also a little sweet in concept. It may not be for everyone, so let's say it's currently canon adjacent for the Pink Scarf Universe...

This takes place a few months post A Pink Scarf Thanksgiving, in February of 1978. Yes, I know, we make it to '78 and there is something both heart wrenching but also wonderful in that, isn't there?

I wanted something that felt real but also a bit indulgent, and also wanted to bring our spitfire Sandy back into play. In fact, I made it from Sandy's perspective, which was a bit challenging considering the use of second person, but hopefully it makes sense!!

Premise is that Reader is in a fix, desperate to coax a very nervous Elvis back into her bed, and enlists her best friend Sandy to help in an unorthodox way. 

Anyway, I'm a bit nervous about this one 😬 and am just sort of testing the waters as a preview, so let me know if you like it and want me to continue it! (Also, the turnaround was fast, so please excuse the semi-rough edit/revision! 🙏🏼)

xoxoxox, Madi 💗

(listen, I know this pic is much earlier than '78, but the vibe is right and the hint of silver at his roots seems applicable and has me in a chokehold, so bear with me here...)

TW: sexy smutty stuff, heading towards a threesome (mff/fmf), mention of medical issues/trauma, sassy Sandy, silver fox Elvis!!🦊

Got a Lotta Lovin’ to Do

February 1978

“Darlin’, you sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’?” he asks you. Elvis’ eyebrow is halfway to his hairline and he sounds more incredulous than hopeful, but Sandy can see the twinkle in his eyes when they slide over to her. It’s more than a cursory glance, one filled with questions and a latent heat. She wrestles with the urge to fidget under his gaze, clenching and unclenching her fists instead of looking away from his scrutiny.

She’s certainly never been one to back down from a fight, not even with the enigma that is Elvis Presley.

Especially not with him, she thinks.

But Elvis has never looked at her like this before and even knowing him as long as she has, she isn’t unaffected. Despite everything he’s been through this past year, he still has the ability to level a woman with a look, she’ll give him that.

His eyes slide back over to you, and Sandy can breathe again. It’s gonna be a long night, she thinks, if a mere glance has her feeling so exposed.

You nod, biting your lip, and she knows how nervous you are, how desperate you are for this to work. She grabs your hand in solidarity and you squeeze it in return.

If it were anyone but you, she wouldn’t have agreed to this. It is much too messy, but extraordinary people and circumstances call for extraordinary measures, and being in Elvis’ world has always meant living in shades of gray.

Sandy knows she’s the only one you’ll trust with this. For as much shit as she gives Elvis, she loves and cares about you both deeply, more than she might voice in mixed company. And you know she understands why this is so important.

Now the two of you just need to convince Elvis of it, too. Though by the increasing level of tension in the room and the way he adjusts himself in his seat, Sandy doesn’t think it’ll take much persuading.

He cuts quite the figure, sitting there in the plush, golden, velvet chair with his bejeweled fingers tapping a slow and steady rhythm out on the arms. After what happened last summer, he’d finally let his hair grow out to its natural color, the salt-and-pepper combined with glinting silvery streaks. It’s incredibly striking, giving him an even more handsome and regal air than before, if that’s possible. With his new post-recovery regime, he is looking good and, according to you, feeling healthier than he had in years. The result is attractive, to say the least.

But while that side of things improved, the sexual piece apparently has not.

Sandy and you perch on the edge of the bed, sitting so close you are pressed against each other, facing him, waiting for his verdict. Elvis takes in the two of you closely before sliding his eyes back over to her.

“And you, Sandra? You agreed to this?” His voice is laden with curiosity and surprise. She doesn’t blame him.

“Yes, with conditions,” she says, willing her voice to stay steady and calm when she’s feeling anything but.

He chuckles darkly. “Of course. I’d expect nothin’ less from you, honey.”

The endearment, one he’s used with her a million times over the years, now comes out laden and warm, sliding through her veins like liquid heat. She’s not sure how she feels about it, to be honest, but it’s a little late to turn back now.

Sandy looks at you for permission to continue. You nod.

“Okay, first, this is a one-time deal,” she begins, forcing herself to look him straight in those endlessly blue eyes.

His lips curve up with the beginning of a smirk and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know what he’s thinking. She thinks it’s funny how he’s posturing, considering the whole reason she is here is to help bolster his confidence, but she supposes over twenty years of adoration from females makes his response a habit.

Honestly, it’s the stipulation she’s the least worried about, it being there more for your sake than hers, and it gives you all an out if this goes south. But boundaries are good for Elvis. So she quirks a brow back at him until he nods.

“Second, no one hears about this. It’s a nonstarter. No bragging to the guys, ever. No one outside this room can ever know…especially not Jerry.”

This is the one she is most worried about. While her marriage to Jerry ended over half a decade ago, on relatively decent terms considering the circumstances, she knows this would cut Jer to the core, and that is not why she’s here. Jerry isn’t in Elvis’ employ anymore, but they are still good friends, brothers even, and she doesn’t want to ruin their relationship.

A cloud of seriousness falls over Elvis’ face, banishing his earlier mirth, and that lets her know they are on the same page with this one, despite his terrible track record of secret keeping. “Done,” he says with finality.

“Good. Third, I reserve the right to bow out at any time,” she adds.

“Honey, I’d never force you to do somethin’ you din’t want to do. Ain’t never been like that and ain’t startin’ now,” he says with surprising gentleness.

She nods, expecting as much. Taking a deep breath, she pauses before the last request, mainly because she can’t believe she’s actually saying it out loud. Might as well just get it done.

“Finally, your dick stays out of my pussy.”

He chuckles at your frankness while you choke, coughing wildly—she hadn’t warned you about this one. It’s more the principle of the thing, really. She is along for the ride, sure, but in the end, she’s mostly here for your wellbeing. And by the way he looks at Sandy with something akin to respect and nods as she rubs his wife’s back, she knows he understands.

You eventually recover from Sandy’s bluntness, turning your attention back to your husband with a hopeful look in your eyes. “So, is this…I mean…do you want to do this, baby?”

For the first time, you see his trepidation, his overwhelm of the situation only barely covered by his mask of humor. This is what you’d been talking about, this reluctance and lack of self-assurance. When you’d come to her about the fact that Elvis hadn’t been intimate with you since the medical crisis that nearly killed him, it made perfect sense. Not only had he gone through something terrifying, but his surgeries also changed his body in ways that must have been uncomfortable. Coupled with extensive recovery and weaning off old medications and starting new ones, it was a recipe for disaster in the bedroom.

Sandy knew you had to be desperate for you to ask her for this kind of help. You knew it wasn’t because Elvis found you unattractive or didn’t love you anymore—he was afraid he couldn’t perform, afraid he couldn’t satisfy you, and you were afraid you’d hurt him somehow. It was obvious your sex life had been amazing in the past, though according to you, it had dwindled the sicker and more in denial about things he’d gotten. But for you to invite her into the bedroom to put the spark back in their marriage wasn’t something Sandy had expected.

Apparently, Elvis loved some girl-on-girl threesome action and had indulged in such things back before you and he had finally gotten together. You were never entirely comfortable with the idea when Elvis brought it up in the past—the idea of sharing him didn’t sit well and knowing Elvis, he’d make some poor woman fall in love with him or someone would talk and you’d be in a fix, so the idea had been nixed before it could take root.

But now you were frantic and willing to try almost anything, which apparently included asking your best friend to fool around with you and your husband.

It’s a matter of trust, you’d said, twiddling your fingers uncomfortably in Sandy’s kitchen, tears pooled in your eyes. You knew she’d never talk, knew she’d never betray you, and most importantly, knew she could separate sex from emotion and would never fall in love with your husband.

It was all true. How could she say no to you when you needed her help so badly? So, here she was, apprehensive but intrigued, waiting for Elvis to decide all of your fates.

“You can just watch, baby, if you want to, or whatever, it’s fine,” you encourage him when he seems frozen and unable to respond. Sandy can see you both floundering in indecision and fear and can’t stand it anymore. She’s never been one for patience or inaction, after all, so without further ado, she silences your pleas for your husband’s attention with her lips.

“Oh!” you exclaim in quiet surprise against her mouth, your hands flailing a bit in resistance.

Talking about something like this and doing it are two different things, Sandy knows, but she persists, kissing you gently, hands cupping your cheeks, until you relax enough to kiss her back. She can’t help but feel a little gratification when you sigh softly and yield to her, your hands flitting to the curve of her hips.

It would be stupid to say she didn’t find both you and Elvis attractive, but never in her wildest dreams had it been in the cards to have either of you, so she’d never dwelled much on it. But now, feeling the weight of his gaze as she laps her tongue between your lips, testing your willingness to do this, her body lights on fire.

She pushes through the foreign feeling of being watched so intimately, knowing this is just as much about putting on a good show than anything else, but she didn’t expect it to be quite so tantalizing. Something about being the one to take charge sends a thrill down her spine. Dragging her lips down your neck to your collarbone, she knows she’s not imagining the rapid fluttering of your pulse under her lips or the way you lean back to give her more access.

You’ve never been with a woman, but she knows it’s been a long time since you’ve had attention of this sort from your man, either so when Sandy trails her fingers down over your breast, she feels the jolt go through you. Her moves are deliberate but slow, allowing you to acclimate, allowing Elvis to take in every movement.

She can’t help the warmth pooling in her belly when she palms the heaviness of your breast, pinching your clothed nipple and you gasp, arching into her with genuine willingness.

“Lord have mercy,” Elvis huffs quietly, and you both know you have him.

It’s much too easy, then, to unbutton your blouse, exposing the white lace bra underneath before pulling hers up over her head to reveal her own. You’d been clear about the white—apparently he gets all kinds of excited about little white underthings—and far be it for her to ignore such a titillating detail.

Sandy takes it upon herself to continue the play, pressing her lips to the soft skin of your décolletage, following the soft rise of your breasts before nuzzling and nipping at the dusky areola peek-a-booing through the lace. Mewling and pawing at her head, you are strung so tight Sandy thinks you’re not acting in the least.

It’s a little strange, this softness of your curves against her own, but pleasant. Moreover is the deep satisfaction in her belly at drawing little whimpers out of you as she kisses and reveals more of your skin. Even more surprising is the gratification of bringing something out of both you and your husband that has been out of reach for much too long.

Your fingers cart through her hair, manicured nails tickling her scalp in a way that makes her vibrate. She arches at the contact and looks up at you with a coy smile, sliding a hand up your smooth leg and under the hem of your skirt.

Elvis clears his throat, interrupting them. “Be good lil’ girls f’me and s-strip down to your panties,” he says in a gravelly voice Sandy has never been privy to hearing. A shiver runs down her spine, melting and churning with all the new feelings the evening is bringing. His tone is halfway between a need and a command and neither of you need to be asked twice.

Her inhibitions fall to the floor in a heap along with pants and skirts and bras. Never once in her life did she expect to feel Elvis’ heavy, heated gaze turned on her nearly naked form but now that it’s happening, she can’t help but squirm a little. She has nothing to prove and is usually confident in her skin, but she’s certainly not a young woman anymore, her body soft and curvy with the changes age brings. Her only consolation is at least the three of you are in relatively the same boat in that regard.

Sneaking a glance at Elvis, she is bit relieved to find his examination admiring rather than turned off. Though, considering he has two naked women ready to do his bidding, it seems the natural response.

“Don’t be shy, Satnin. I’m sure Sandra won’t bite toohard if you touch her,” he muses, those bedroom eyes of his flickering with lust. You giggle nervously and then look to Sandy for permission, which she gives with a nod and a reassuring smile.

Your caress is timid at first, then more exploratory of her body than she expects. Maybe it’s the resounding hum of encouragement from your husband giving you more confidence or just pure sexual energy and curiosity, but whatever it is has Sandy feeling delightful. A tweak of a nipple here. A soft tongue there. Hands and mouths finding a rhythm of pleasure.

Sandy palms your bottom, running her fingertips down along the seam of your white underwear, when Elvis cuts in, his voice thick with desire:

“Play with her an’ make her feel good, Sandra.”

Tingles erupt over her skin. She follows orders, sliding her hand down into your panties and through your soft curls until she reaches your hooded clit. She rubs gently, like she would do to herself, and you gasp in her mouth, body bowing to get more friction.

After a few moments, the unmistakable sound of a zipper clicks through the air. Her body suddenly burns with the scandalous nature of it all, and her excitement surprises her.

“Is she wet?” he asks Sandy.

Sliding her fingers down, she can feel the slick of your arousal on her fingertips.

“Yes,” she says unabashedly.

A pause.

“Are you?” His voice is low and dripping with honey.

A pulse of heat starts throbbing in her core, and for the first time tonight, she stumbles over her words, suddenly breathless. “I…I think so?”

“Honey, see if you’re makin’ Sandra excited,” he commands you, then with humor adds, “She apparently doesn’t know.”

Sandy throws a glare Elvis’ way but then your fingers are cold against the blazing heat of her muff, a sensation which makes her jump as you glide your fingers over sensitive, slick skin.

“She’s soaked,” you relay demurely, and all at once Sandy feels like the tables have turned in this little tableau.

“Show me. Both of you.”

His demand makes her stomach drop, like she’s on a roller coaster.

She feels disappointed when you pull your hand away, and the sentiment feels mutual. Both of you display your shining fingers in the dim light.

Elvis crooks his finger and beckons you both closer.

There’s no helping the curious way her eyes drift down and land on his dusky pink cock, the head peeking out from his foreskin, dripping and standing at full attention now he’s been released from the confines of his black pants. Sandy’s mouth goes dry when she realizes just how much nature has blessed him in ways other than his talent.

Is it wrong that she wants to touch it, to feel the heavy heat of him in her palm? To make him shudder underneath her touch? Perhaps so. The itch to torture him with her body just a little for every cunning remark and every dumbass selfish move he’s made in the last 15 years is strong and it makes her tingle just to think of.

He must read the look on her face because his eyes go a bit wide with something unreadable before narrowing with laser focus.

Her heart starts thudding against her ribcage, all the blood rushing out of her head when he wraps his large hand around her wrist, dwarfing it, and pulls her between his spread muscular thighs. Then he draws those glistening fingers of hers right into his mouth.

She gasps. Every nerve in her body is set alight with fireworks as he sucks her fingers clean of his wife’s arousal, his tongue warm and soft and oh-so thorough.

It’s her whimpering now as he pins her with his flaming eyes. Her breath catches. His mouth pops off her digits.

“Mmm…sweet as a sundae. You’ll see, Sandra Dee.” A slow, sly grin spreads across his handsome face as he releases her wrist.

Being on the other end of that devastating smile, especially in a situation like this, has her trembling. It pisses her off a little, actually, that he’s having this effect, and by the glint in his eye, he knows it.

Like he’s saying, Game on.

Then, he looks to you, pulling you close. His mischievousness softens slightly. Sandy is glad to see under the red flush of pleasure on your cheeks there is also a look of relief on your face, as if you are thinking, “Oh, thank heavens, it’s working.”

Sandy steps back, happy to give the couple space, but Elvis’ hand shoots out, latching onto her arm.

“Nuh uh, now where d’ya think you’re goin’?” It’s husky and playful but also fraught with an undercurrent of tension, as though he’s not quite ready and maybe a little nervous about being alone with his wife. He keeps his hand on her arm but turns his attention to you.

“Haven’t sampled another pussy in a loooong time, lil’ mama,” he drawls up at you, “Ya sure you wanna give daddy a taste?” His brow quirks, asking for permission, making sure you’re still comfortable with this arrangement you’ve surprised him with. The words are confident, but Sandy can hear the gravity behind them.

You nod encouragingly. “Yes.”

“Mm’kay then,” and then he sucks your fingers right into his mouth.

Sandy can’t help but blush wildly as she watches him savor her off his wife’s hand. And it’s positively obscene the way he opens his eyes and stares into hers brazenly as he does it.

Never has she felt quite so exposed. Arousal swirls in her core, betraying all her sensibilities.

Elvis runs his tongue under his upper lip after he’s done, where he lets it peek out at the corner of his mouth with a smirk. “Now ain’t that jus’ the cherry on top,” he purrs, eyes sparkling.

Sandy hates how she goes a bit weak in the knees at that. God, this man infuriates her, always has in that loving way of his, but this is a whole different level of understanding and intimacy she’s not accustomed to with him.

But whether she likes it or not, her body is absolutely buzzing with anticipation for the both of you, as evidenced by the way she clenches her thighs and the way her panties get just a little bit more ruined.

The motion doesn’t go unnoticed by Elvis, and his gaze darkens.

Oh, it’s gonna be a long night, alright.

A long night, indeed.

*

As always, I love and live for your reactions, comments, asks, and reblogs, so thank you in advance for both reading and giving another one of my stories a chance! 

Taglist Pt 1

@eliseinmemphis@russian-soft-bitch@tattywood

@sassanoe@thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle@carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23

 @littlebitofgreen@paigevis@bugg06@xhannahbananax03@artlover8992

@18lkpeters@frozenhuntress67@girlblogger2002@kendralavon7@misspresley

@be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love

 @precious-lil-scoundrel @stylespresleyhearted @prompted-wordsmith @crash-and-cure @elvisgf @lookingforrainbows @fic-over-cannon @godlypresley @ab4eva @whatstruthgottodowithit @elvisabutler @amydarcimarie@idontwanttoputanything @callieselvisobsessed @captainamerica1235-blog  @xenaspace3-blog 

@simplyamberj@claire-elvisgirl@everythingelvispresley@louisejoy86@deniseinmn @madelynpresley

[jessthetea]

Hi so this is in response to the whole extensions thing. To preface I just want to say I 100% agree with you about the kind of person she is. I have been in the beauty industry for almost 7 years and a licensed cosmetologist for 5(I can dm you my license # if you want to verify) at this point I feel like I've looked at hundreds of photos of her hair (down, up, styled, wet, dry, etc) and can say with about 90% certainty she doesn't have extensions unless they are ktips. Now there are a few reasons why her hair could look thinner than it has (she's aging and you lose collagen as you age at almost 1% a year, or more likely it's because she dyes her hair black and you can see her much lighter roots growing in, this can make your hair look thinner). The only way you lose hair from extensions is if they are improperly installed, improperly taken care of or you aren't regularly maintaining and moving them up. She doesn't strike me as someone who doesn't have regular appointments or properly maintain her appearance (whether we like how she looks or not you can tell she puts good money into her appearance). The other observation I have noticed that you have also mentioned is her weight. I've wondered if it's less of an ED thing and more of a she's on something like ozempic thing? This would explain why her cheeks and such are more pronounced and her head looks bigger while her body is super thin. I think we are seeing all of the Botox and filler she has had become more pronounced after rapid weight loss. Being on a weight loss medication could also explain any thinning in her hair as well.

First off, why wouldn’t she have gotten KTips? It’s pretty clear that money isn’t a concern for her when it comes to her appearance. I mean, she’s already spent who knows how much on cosmetic procedures that completely changed her face, so I don’t see why she wouldn’t go for high-end extensions like KTips.

Secondly, I’m not doubting you're a hair stylist, but I’m curious how she suddenly had super long, thick hair out of nowhere. It’s not that she couldn’t grow it out, but the thickness is the real clue that she had extensions. If you look at photos of her before 2018, her hair was really thin, and then suddenly she reappeared with this super long, thick, black hair—which, by the way, isn’t even her natural color.

As far as I know, there’s no product out there that can make thin hair that thick and full, especially if it’s always been thin. Extensions seem like the most likely explanation, and if she’s trying to make it look as natural as possible (which clearly she is), she would’ve paid top dollar for the best ones she could afford—or that Jamie or some other sugar daddy could cover.

I’ve got some before and after pics to show exactly what I mean in case you aren’t familiar with how her hair looked before when she tried to grow it out.

Her cheeks have always looked pretty sharp, especially since she started dating Jamie. Unless she was on Ozempic before it got super trendy (and someone gave it to her even though she’s never been overweight—not saying it’s impossible but it seems unlikely), I think she’s just really into fitness. I do believe she works out a lot, runs, and stays active. She’s probably not a professional marathon runner or cyclist or anything, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t committed to it.

If she has some kind of eating disorder, whether it’s anorexia, bulimia, or orthorexia, combined with intense workouts, that could definitely keep her really thin or make her lose even more weight, especially if she’s restricting calories. I don’t think Jess is on Ozempic, though. Yeah, her face looks super gaunt, but I’m more inclined to think it’s due to buccal fat removal than anything else.

[maridiayachtclub]

let's try documenting a big Satisfactory project!

so i have this facility called SPINE. it's a multi-function structure with a stupid (but cool) name. pics under the cut because they're big:

it's bad and it could stand to be renovated.

it was one of the first large facilities i built. it was conceived as a centrally located factory that would gather in resources from the surrounding area, use them to manufacture various fundamental parts like iron plates and screws and whatnot, and then funnel them outward to specialized factories. where possible, additional functions could be built within what felt at the time like a roomy interior, and the structure could be extended upward to make more factory space within.

in addition, it was built on legs, making space underneath for three purposes:

allowing tractors and other vehicles to pass through (at the time, i had an automated tractor running stuff back and forth between a few buildings, and anticipated having a fleet of little wheely friends going to and fro)

making space for ceiling-mounted conveyor belts that would not just move materials through the building but provide the means to deliver them up into the building's interior for processing

room for aminals to wander through :)

so, seeing as this was going to be the center of a general stream of many different products needed throughout my growing factory-city, it seemed analogous to a a spinal column. hence, SPINE, or rather, S.P.I.N.E. what do the letters stand for? i figured i'd think of an appropriate combination of words eventually, but i never did. the name nevertheless stuck

SPINE has been doing what i have asked of it for a while now. the inside chambers mostly look like this

anyway, as mentioned, this was made early on, and while i think the concept is sound, the implementation has ultimately proven insufficient. the space underneath ended up being too small for the variety of materials i require to move through, as well as all the necessary branches needed to move things back and forth between the transport space on the bottom and the factory spaces inside. here's what the underside looks like:

seriously it fuckin sucks down here bro

i can't just keep extending the conveyor lines further down from the ceiling; making enough space to move all these materials and move them up into the factory requires all sorts of stupid twisty turny conveyor belt tricks. the backside, where everything funnels in, is absolutely embarrassing. wizard-of-oz-man-behind-the-curtain bullshit. glasgow willy wonka experience-ass levels of fulfillment. slapdash mickey mouse duct tape effort. real "I didn't do my homework and now i gotta make up this presentation live in front of the class and they can see me sweating" energy embodied.

the horrid tangle running through SPINE is complicated by its output, set up so that it delivers things to my central storage barn. things need to leave the facility in a very specific way, like so:

this part, at least, works fine. this massive vein of conveyor belts is a bit ugly but it works very well. i put a lot of time into designing my central storage barn (there were spreadsheets involved) and it paid off. look at this shit, look at how neatly everything gets sorted into easily accessed bins

i love it. the power fantasy of living in an organized environment, realized here in digital form!

unfortunately the clean functionality of this building just draws into stark relief how bad SPINE is. even if I spruced up its exterior, fully finishing the walls and adding fripperies such as signage and doors and lights, its core functionality is insufficient for my needs. SPINE was conceptualized and built far in advance of my understanding of what i would actually need it to do and i can't stand it any longer! no more!

so, i'm planning to tear it all down and replace it with a bigger, better-organized SPINE. in addition to making it look nicer, it could actually be expandable without adding another strand into its already tangled guts. it would give me an opportunity to incorporate the functions of numerous smaller satellite facilities, cleaning up the surrounding landscape a bit and making room for other factories i know i will have to build in time. it would, potentially, allow me to incorporate a train station or two, so products could be picked up or delivered as needed... not something i need at this time, but even if i never do, having the capability of entertaining visiting trains is a worthy goal in itself.

anyway i haven't started on that yet. SPINE 2.0 is still in the planning stages, and i'm leaving on a trip in a day or so so i'm not gonna be able to start on this project in earnest for at least a week.

i might keep documenting the project here for funsies. i love Satisfactory; it's a perfect vehicle for one of my favorite things to do in a game: turning nothing into places. if you're in a video game and you see a bunch of hills and trees and rivers and piles of iron ore and other natural features, it doesn't really mean much on its own, but spend enough time there and you grow accustomed to it. you put together a mental map, figure out whatever routes you're going to be taking through it, learn how to navigate it quickly and efficiently, and soon that random bit of wilderness is a place. the rocks you have to navigate around and the rivers you have to jump over become familiar sights. and if it's a building kinda game, and you're populating this unsullied wilderness with the mortal profanity of civilization, that place is even more place-y than before. i very much like the places i have built in Satisfactory, so regardless of how this is received, it's fun to talk about it, get some of my internal thoughts on this project down in a format that can last. at least until tumblr shutters its doors and gets sold to some venture capitalist vultures in 2026

[erigold13261]

Will Carna and Maragold have a different gender identity or how they wear clothes as they grow up? (I see them wearing more feminine outfits in your art so…)

Clothes don't depict your gender. Also, I don't think I've really drawn either of them in feminine clothes that much.

Just took a look at my art of them, and Maragold's initial outfit was a dress that they had before being upgraded. Then there was the nonbinary comic with what looked like a dress, but I was going more for either a night gown or a shirt someone gave them to wear to be more comfortable. Everything else I think I've drawn them in either pants or shorts. (well there was the Christmas pic like 2 years ago with Maragold and Carna in the skirt version of the uniform that Zimelu wears)

I think you might be mistaking other people drawing Maragold for my own art, because looking back there are a lot of gifts I got with Maragold in dresses and skirts. There was also a lot of feminization of Maragold in those art gifts. I didn't mind them but they are not what I had in mind for older Maragold. Even humanized Mara's seem to have orange skin when my human Maragold would have like green or something like that.

However, Maragold does actually like to wear more feminine clothes and will probably stick with they/them or possibly go back to using she/her at times, making their pronouns they/she. I don't think they will ever go back to identifying as a girl though, at least not in a complete sense. They are gonna stick with nonbinary, or if they do change it's gonna be something under the nonbinary umbrella. Maybe genderfluid.

[Oops, wait, just went into the Orange tag, because I never fully retagged all my Orange pics as Maragold. Though that only brought up one extra picture not in the Maragold tag. I did draw Maragold in a dresss/skirt that Zimelu made them, but all the other drawings have Maragold either in their doll dress, or in shorts. So yeah, point still stands from before]

As for Carna, I don't think I ever actually drawn faer with feminine clothes. The pictures I am remembering are either faer with the 1010 kid uniform thing, or with masc/androgynous clothes. Or at least that is what I was trying to go for with the outfits I put faer in. I could be forgetting though.

Looking at Carana's tag, yeah, I've only drawn faer in a skirt once and that was the Christmas one from a few years ago. The only other one I could think of that might be seen as feminine is the halloween outfit fae wore, but that was supposed to be a combination of a suit and dress. Everything else has been shorts. Not even pants lol. (not counting Carna as a doll with a skirt, which doesn't even show up in faer tag because it is tagged as Pink and not Carana)

Carna likes masc clothes, things that are fancy like suits, though doesn't mind if they have a feminine flare to them. So like a suit with a skirt attached to it, or pants with a flowy top or something. Fae is not going to just straight up wear a dress or skirt by itself.

With gender, I do see Carna changing, but never going back to seeing faerself as a girl. If anything, Carna would lean more towards something masculine I feel. I can see faer trying out agender or even libragender (leaning towards libramasculine) as gender identities. Fae might try out he/him pronouns but would most likely go back to neopronouns and either just stick with fae/faer or add a new set and keep fae/faer as well.

So yeah, after going through all of this I realized something. I need to draw Carna and Maragold more lol! Those two definitely are lacking in art. Even Dew has more content than those two and I made them before him!

[the-tzarina-alexandra-paracosm]

Some of my favourite art - a timeline

Part 3: 2013

Final Fantasy X/X-2 and FFVII fanart. June or July 2013. The first pic shows remnants of my previous style, while the latter is fully anime. Late 2012-early 2013 was a transitional period in this sense. I really like the concept of the first pic, which is Yuna's past and future self looking at each other. The second pic shows an attempt at perspective and composition.

First row: July. Second row: late 2013. Not only was I growing more and more into my style, but I was trying my hand at original character design. (1st pic: Cherille and the others from the dragon story. 2nd pic: Ivy from the vampire story. 3rd pic: Thea, alien princess. 4th pic: Chleo, wanted criminal).

It's funny to me how clear it is that this is the first time I learned to do a gradient, then proceeded to use it everywhere.

And now for some of my most iconic 2013 pieces:

September (can't make the date out but it's somewhere between the 6th and 9th). I still love this picture. I like the colours even though I ended up changing the character designs to something more cohesive eventually. The concept of this drawing was combining my two stories taking place in Japan, the one on the left being a samurai one, and the one on the right being a modern time one (fun fact! These are the characters from what eventually became my first novel, The Image through the Thick Glass, but the very original ideas as illustrated here was a sort of whodunit/ revenge story, wherein Kaito's brother had been killed etc. It's crazy how different it ended up being from the initial concept!). I also have very pleasant memories of the drawing process, as I was in vacation with my family and we were chilling on a bench in the salt mines and having a snack (and I took my notebook with me everywhere).

In terms of art progress, the most noticeable improvements compared to just months prior are: 1. Side profiles have actual chins 2. Attempts to draw clothing folds 3. Attempts to do shading 4. Still anime influenced but slowly growing into my own style 5. Growing into my character design style

September 2nd. think this is single-handedly my favourite picture of all 2013. This is one of the first very serious attempts to combine composition, perspective, colour and mood. What I like the most is how the wind blows thriugh Onix' hair and clothes, and how the city lights reflect into the river, and how the cars are a mash of random colours to suggest the speed they travel at. This is definitely the highest effort and highest execution drawing I did in that year. And I still love the character designs (and concepts) today.

October or November. I like this because it is very experimental, and if there's a year that has been characterised by its sheer leaps and bounds in art, it's been 2013.

I had to check because I thought this was 2014, but it's actually dated as November 28, 2013. This is also one of my favourites, and perhaps objectively the best of that year. Compared to the Xavier and Onix pic, this had the added benefit of better contrast with the background and a more readable composition. I really like the mood of the drawing, too, it's very emotional. Also re: my gradient comments above, this is one of my first successful sunsets.

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The main characteristics of this year are: 1. Trying to adopt an anime artstyle 2. Experimenting with character design, as well as scene composition, perspective, gradients, shading, poses and so on. I didn't realise just how much I've improved over the course of just one year, it really seems like every new month brought a new skill with it, and the style at the beginning of 2013 and that at the end of 2013 can almost not be recognised as being from the same year.

[papamado]

YIPPI OKAY SO this time i'll be writing as i go, finally maybe making some us of my character design collage course I love your analasyss of the outfit being restrictive!! i personally always had a simpler explanation in mind: that it represents him restricting himself, lso a contraft to how masked fools tend to have no boundries, while he himself does But the possible idea of it representing the restrictions by the fact that he's an emanator is also amazing!! Althought Emanators, unlike Aeons, aren't restricted by the paths (primium mobile), they can operate outside of it, but maybe in Elation's case the restrictions come in some other form? like having to do things against your will because it's your purpouse? Could also represent just personal internal struggle, maybe between the desire for elation and having moral restrictions, hiding the past self, concealing power that could be dangerous, having to lay low like a snake in a grass okay eyes eys eyes eyes i studies the eyes for so longggg The green eyes are snake like, yes, but it's still different to how those are portrayed in other snake-themed characters

(you can't see it quite well here, but jade's eyes look similar to Baizhu's, just brighter in colour) when we compare those to Sampo's eyes they still look very different imo! Of course more similar than any other regular eyes, but still Many xiangzhou characters have those elogated pupils like characters above

(the 2nd pic is the texture itself)

Sampo's pupils do have that diamond shape to them but they are not elongated, the "ring" around the pupil not only matches it's shape, but it's also the most prominent "ring" out of any other characters 9yes, i checked everyone's eyes, I'm very normal) adding to that, his eyes seem quite flat in colour? normally, when designing characters, they often go for multiple shades and extra overlayes in the eyes, often still keeping it simple but still having them look lively in comparison - sampo's eyes look quite dull in that regard, the eye shine he has is also minimal, which is also a deliberate choice, hoyo likes to characterize their characters by their eyes alone (like childe, aventurine, kaeya, etc.) and the lack of light that make sthem feel lively gives that gloomy feeling And the overall shape!!! his eyes just straight up make him look like some wet soggy pathetic cat This makes him look more shy? kind? harmless? but combined with the darker upper part of the iris they have some of that... unsetteling vibe to them if that makes sense His eyes are described as emerald in colour, so yeah, a kind of gree, but one that compliments his overall palette more, His eye's tie everything together nicely Green eyes have a symbolic meaning of being mysterious, due to being one of the more reare natural eye colors, but can also corelate to mischeviousness, madness, chaos, also often used as a colour representing toxicity and poison (funfact, in the design that colour doesn't appear only in his eyes, it can also be seen in the "eyes" of the lock of his little heart shaped suitcase)

the not-elongated diamond shape can be seens across his design, like the metal ornaments on the gloves and shoes that 4point diamond shape (rhombus like) has other symbolic meanings, but unfortunatelly I don't have enought time to look more in depth into that rn :((

THE HAIR OH MY GODD okay so there's a few things 1. if the hair was dyed blue, the white parts would be maybe near the scalp instead?? as in growing ut, so i think it's safe to assume that the blue hair is his natural color 2. I find it reminescent of how acheron's hair turn white while she's in the alternate form, could be fitting to the ex sel-annihilator sampo theory! 3. the hair, blue with white ends, also look like magpie wings to me THE HAIR OH MY GODD okay so there's a few things 1. if the hair was dyed blue, the white parts would be maybe near the scalp instead?? as in growing ut, so i think it's safe to assume that the blue hair is his natural color 2. I find it reminescent of how acheron's hair turn white while she's in the alternate form, could be fitting to the ex sel-annihilator sampo theory! 3. the hair, blue with white ends, also look like magpie wings to me

You can describe person as a "magpie", and I think it suits Sampo quite well

The hair looking like that could also be reminescent of the "koski" part of his name (water rapids), when the water current is strong enough that it starts looking white in some places, again, possibly another referrence to how Elation is described using water metaphors colours time babyyyyyy The combination of Blue (melancholy, sadness, calmness, calculating but also knowledge and reliability) and red (well, in that case it's maroon, color associated with depth and passion) could be reminescent of the contradictions in the character themselves, it's balanced out by the purple details (since it's the color right between the two on the colour wheel) and yeah Both red and blue being "more purple" makes it work together nicely!!! the abundance of metal elements is also giving off that "cold", unapproachable feeling and the eyes being green, on the opositte of the colour spectrum, makes them stand out more:DD Abundance of layers is something we can see across allthe designs, it'a a way to make the characters more visually stimulating in a way and to make the form more interesting But Like i mentioned before, his outfit is still wayy les complex in the silhouette aspect and it lacks flowy details, further "closing in" on itself and yeah again referring to something i mentioned before: his coat looking like ringmaster's coat! pretty self explanatory~ I'd also like to point ut the heart motifs hidden on his outfit, ofc they are mostly visible in form of the small suitcase and the bomb BUT following the diagonal lines in the front part of his chest we get a broken heart shape

same goes fo rthe backside, but here the heart is full, potencially crossed out/restricted, in a similar manner to how the little suitcase looks like

the exposed skin along side the sharp details and striking colors make him look quite provocative, straight up it gives off a different vibe to the usual hoyo shenanigans with the more revealing clothing for other characters or with the strategic chest windows In his case it feels, like i said, provocative, "edgy", primal, unapologetic, not welcoming yet still filling one with desire, deliberate on his own part, not as "fan servicy" as others, if that makes sense? Thank u for the very cool and epic analasis of that guy once again!!!! i hope he explodes /aff <3

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✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ OUTFIT & DESIGN MOTIFS ⌝

sampo analysis m.list

— what the stars reveal: half-character-study, half-analysis, waxing poetic, elation!sampo

— word count: 3.1k

— overview: a look at sampo’s outfit and design, as well as how it may link to an identity closely connected with the elation.

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For the sake of my own sanity, I’ll be splitting this analysis into clear-cut sections:

Snake Motifs

Binding Chains

Weapon

Hair

Color Palette

Shoes & Walking

Layers

Exposed Skin

Here’s his splash art for reference, although I’ll also be including other photos of his outfit:

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ SNAKE MOTIFS ⌝

One of the biggest aspects of Sampo’s outfit design are the snake bones littered across his clothing. From the scaled chain behind him to the shoulder guard that has a protrusion reminiscent of venom-dipped fangs, there is a lot of snake imagery present. Not just snake, however, but dead snake. It’s important to note that none of these pieces have skin or lively color — they’re all bones, bleached and picked clean. For me, this implies Sampo to be a skeleton character, a whisper of a dead or dying thing that still carries a last bit of venom in its fangs. Whether that “thing” is a metaphorical emotional state (centering themes of disillusionment and fatigue), a literal identity (centering themes of lessening power and lowering status), or a combination of both is up for interpretation. Either way, something inside him is decaying.

The snake — the living, hunting predator — is past its prime, stripping away over the years into something that barely resembles itself, the bones of an ancient and powerful thing. Emanator!Sampo may find himself slowly drawing away from the compulsive Elation first bestowed upon him, while Aha!Sampo may find Themself rotting into Their own mortal shell, the remains of what used to be a superficial avatar sticking to Their bones and sucking them clean; alternatively, the restrictions placed upon this mortal form of Sampo may cause Aha to be whittled down, only an echo of Their full strength. In another case, the silhouette behind the masks, the bones behind the meat, may have found himself steadily falling out of orbit with his larger mind, eventually ending up as nothing but a shadow of his former power as an Aeon — a skeleton, removed from the body when it was no longer needed. Or, perhaps, he is trying to keep the venom in.

(Note: His eyes are also snake-shaped like Baizhu’s from Genshin Impact!)

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ BINDING CHAINS ⌝

When looking at Sampo in a 360-degree view through the camera, something became apparent to me — the snake motifs (the spine and scales especially) seem to wrap around him tightly. In the splash art, this is a little difficult to tell (as the spine is flared out behind him), but here, they are tightly wrapped around multiple parts of his body:

Here, we see a fairly small part — a cuff wrapped around his upper forearm. This sticks out to me because it seems similar to a handcuff, or some kind of article of containment. It fits snugly, pressing in on his skin. There is also a similar wrapping around his thigh, showing that this is not a one-off design decision. There are multiple tight wrappings of containment around his body, which then implies a something in containment. Additionally, there’s the bone chains on his back:

They wrap around to the front, resting in the hollow of his neck. There are also two latches fastened to his back, giving the idea of the bones almost “hugging” him. Now, we are beginning to get a dual picture: a snake, slowly choking and constricting its prey, and a binding chain of bones, something meant to keep danger contained. We can see this even more clearly once the full picture comes together from different angles:

(These wrappings are even reminiscent of the symbol for Ouroboros, an ancient Gnostic and Alchemical symbol that represents the constant cycle of life, death, and rebirth, as well as the unity of all things material and spiritual. As I’ll discuss in its own dedicated analysis, this presence of the snake as a symbol of rebirth and unity may speak to a constant cycle of different emotions or consciousnesses within him — a loop he seemingly can’t escape. He is trying to live, but death ever looms in the background. Additionally, this points towards him trying to reconcile multiple facets of his being.)

The snake does not want to leave. It is cloying, constricting, containing at every waking moment, unwilling to relinquish the meat inside it. I believe the snake and the chains are one and the same: at the same time Sampo is being hurt and constricted, he is also being contained. The snake bones may represent Aha as a separate entity, the Elation as a addiction-filled Path, self-imposed rules from a more powerful past self, or even the “restrictions” placed on higher beings by virtue of existence.

An Emanator!Sampo may be constantly choked by the chains of his status, the realization that this Path isn’t the one he wants — disillusionment is hard to hold on to when surrounded by those who move from sorrow to joy at the drop of a hat. The gaze of an Aeon may constantly weigh on his shoulders like venom-tipped fangs waiting to strike, waiting to strip everything away from him once he becomes no longer “interesting.” Or perhaps that interest is the binding itself, the consuming, compulsive need to laugh, to operate on impulse, to push all feelings of doubt out before they can even be felt; the want to so desperately escape from Elation despite it clinging to him like a specter, regardless of his wants or needs. Emanator!Sampo may also be contained in his power, the same disillusionment that drives him to stray forcing him to hold back his true power, the truth that he could ruin everything he cares for with a single mistake. He doesn’t know what to do when the Elation grows ever tighter, ever higher, the bones of a rotting thing turning him rotten as well. He wants to escape but doesn’t know how.

(Perhaps, this desperation has rotted into hate which has rotted into vengeance, a dedication to using his life to push out the last of his venom, if only to stain an Aeon with Their own blood before falling away.)

Alternatively, an Aha!Sampo may find Themself now restricted by flesh and blood, feeling Themself to be a shadow, a dead skeleton of what They once were. For whatever reason, Their mortal form is forced to have restrictions, perhaps the same ones They face in Aeonic form. But it’s small. Too small. Ten thousand sizes too small, as it always is, and now They’re trapped for a longer time, forced by a looming threat to operate in the shadows, slowly hollowing out with the distance of consciousness and time. 

Who are They, if not the masks? Who are They, if not an Aeon? Perhaps this is not even mask-related at all, but rather a silhouette who grew tired, determined to carve his own path when the stench of decay became too much. The Original, The Progenitor, far outlasted by feelings that grew too strong for his body to handle. He is not an Aeon, not a mortal, but somewhere between a bleached skull and a mouth full of venom. How can he spit out what is rightfully inside him? How can he cut the binds that tie him to an eldritch being he was never meant to be? 

He does not want Elation, but Elation has always wanted him. How can he escape something so dedicated to swallowing him whole? How can he escape something so natural to his being? There is no clear answer besides one: if he does not find a way to escape, the only thing left of him will be bone.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ WEAPON ⌝

Anyway! Haha! Isn’t he so silly? Let’s look at his weapon next:

It seems to continue the snake theme, with both sides of the blades marked with the same bright purple of the “fangs” on his shoulder guard. I don’t think it’s a mistake that these are the brightest colors of the outfit, but I’ll save that for later. For now, let’s focus on the dual nature of his weapon. Besides carrying on the snake theme, these are dual blades, able to be split apart and combined at a moment’s notice. To me, this seems like an indication of two “sides” to Sampo, two different personas that can be separated, combined, or interchanged at will. This could be an Emanator form, an Aeonic form, or simply another personality or “deeper” emotion behind the con-man persona. 

I find this choice of weapon very fitting for him, as it capitalizes on the dexterity of both his personality and fighting style. It’s something that is easily able to be tossed from a distance, allowing him to damage enemies over time without getting too close to danger. There is also an inversion to its form, and while that could just be so he doesn’t scratch himself when throwing it, I also see its connection to the “inversion” of Sampo’s E6 and Aha’s splash art silhouette. There is an implication of inversion, mirroring, and duality with this weapon. Whatever power or consciousness he may be holding, there’s a good chance there are multiple dimensions to it, the kind of dimensions that exceed mortal standards.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ HAIR ⌝

Something of note is the grey in his hair, a color often attributed to older and more powerful characters (Welt has a (albeit dyed) strand of grey hair and Acheron has grey strands as well). They are, however, at the bottom of his hair, like the (perhaps also dyed?) blue is trying to override it. This could speak to an attempt to find his own identity, to cast aside the bleached white of decaying bones and find some vibrance to live for. There’s also a lot of it compared to other characters. It’s not just one or two strands, it’s entire parts of his hairtips, with the implication even more may be white behind the blue. This would line up with what he says about being an “old timer,” most likely downplaying his own status to “just an old guy” when he is vastly more powerful than others realize.

Additionally, his hair obscures one of his eyes, always casting half of his face behind blue. 

I feel this speaks to the idea of “multiple” sides, since one part of him is literally hidden from view. There’s the laughing, joking con-man we see, sure, but we don’t see the “hate” festering beneath, the potential despising of one’s own power and being. We don’t see the silhouette behind the masks. It wants to be free, most likely, of the chains that bind it, wants to step into the open with the clarity of rage, but it is not allowed. And so it stays, hidden behind blue. It stays, allowing the turquoise eye of a red-tinted mask to operate beyond, leaving itself to fester and rot into itself. Would we see an eye, if we pulled back that hair? Would we see something besides a wink here, a crease there? Would we find a matching color, or would we find blood red, a space infested with angry maggots? Would we perhaps find a hole? The blank, staring Nothing of Nihility? Only time will tell.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ COLOR PALETTE ⌝

An interesting thing I noted while staring at pictures of this man’s splash art for way too long is the clash between colors. When dealing with the visible light spectrum, red and blue are on opposite ends. Red and blue are also popularized opponents, despite them not being true opposites on the color wheel. They can clash very jarringly, although the muted reds and blues (bordering on purples) used in Sampo’s outfit compliment each other better than in other combinations. Still, they stick out against each other, chafe against the backdrop of muted grays and blacks of dying bone. The red, often associated with blood, is also associated with Aha’s masks in this case, since most masks have a combination of white and red or red and orange to them (especially in Aha’s splash art). Additionally, blue is often associated with water and calm, which ties back to Sampo’s name “Koski” which means water rapids in Finnish. There is a clear conflict between these colors in Sampo’s outfit, the starkness of drying blood mingling with the attempted free-flowing blue of a new identity. The blue that is so strong in his hair, his mind, is slowly beginning to peek from beyond the red of the rest of his body —  a solitary flower, perhaps, watered by the rain and allowed to cautiously, timidly, lean into the doorway of his being. Still, it is a battle. The red will not give up. The pain, the addictive nature of being consumed by the snake, has been there for so long it naturally attempts to obscure whatever new healing the blue brings. But the blue is persistent. And so, it stays.

All the while, the grey hangs in the background, shadow-like. The monochrome, the static, has been there longer than both the red and the blue, so ingrained into him that it’s easily overlooked for the war between blood and water. But it’s there. The bones of that ancient beast will never fade, stagnant as they are. That’s the thing about bones — they last. Even when the blood runs out and the water stops flowing, bones take the longest to decay. They symbolize longevity, perhaps too much of it. An immortality, perhaps, granted by Emanator or Aeon status, that refuses to disperse even as the mind begins to wither. Thus, the red and the blue arrive. They attempt to revitalize the dying bones, the winding snake, putting just enough contrast between them to create a spark, a single flicker of life — a turquoise of bright running water in the eyes, enough to see the world in better clarity.

(And then there is the glowing purple of the fangs, the looming threat, the contained power. Beyond everything else, the venom is still there. It has always been there, waiting to strike.)

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ SHOES & WALKING ⌝

The only thing I want to talk about here is the lack of footprints Sampo leaves behind (I just wanted a dedicated section for it). We can see clearly in the splash art that Sampo has regular soles that should make indents in the snow, yet his character never leaves footprints when walking through Belobog. To me, this indicates an otherworldly nature of being, or a lack of being there in the first place. This can fracture into several different theories, some of which being that it’s intentional on his part and he can manipulate his body and surroundings in a structural way; that it’s simply a byproduct of a higher being taking mortal form (and thus not fully “conforming” to all minutae of human bodies); and that it’s because he is a projection or puppet of some sort that was never really there to begin with. Whatever the case, this seems to be a strong indicator of higher status, whether that be Emanator, Aeonic, or something different. After all, no regular, unassuming guy would be able to so casually and effortlessly defy gravity to not leave footprints.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ LAYERS ⌝

Man, this guy’s outfit is confusing. Sorry, I just had to get that off my chest. I’m just still not entirely sure what’s going on in his chest region, there seems to be a lot of straps and buckles and zigzags and windows. I’d like to say this still speaks to the idea of “containment,” as many layers like that would certainly feel constricting, but I also feel like it’s meant to be a “look” as a whole. The bottom layers being black and gray, then blossoming out into blue and red almost makes me think of a decaying animal, with the blood being exposed as well as some of the bone beneath. I also feel like it ties back into his “layered” personality, in which he has different feelings and personas he chooses to either show or hide at any given moment. His neck and hands are also covered (with the red gloves dipping below the black), perhaps further speaking to concealment. The snake motifs are also present on multiple layers, giving the feeling that this is a constriction that runs deep.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ EXPOSED SKIN ⌝

I will say it: this man’s outfit is sluttyyy (affectionate). Despite the heavy themes of constriction and concealment, the encroachment of the colors and layers do not affect his forearms and hips. He very much has his “V” out to show the world, and I for one am not complaining. To me, this exposed skin feels like a breath of fresh air, something beyond the rotting, constricted animal for once. This seems to really be Sampo — the flesh and blood Sampo, the mortal, the guy who likes striking poses and probably gives great hugs. Yes, it is still strategic (probably trying to ramp up flirt appeal for when he tries to scam people) but it also seems genuine. Sincere. If the rest of his outfit is a constraining, dying bloodbath, then these pockets of skin are the eye of the storm, the places that seem to be untouched by the onslaught. Here, we see a human being. Not an Emanator or an Aeon or a byproduct of compulsive Elation, but a man. Just a man. Breathing, like everyone else. It’s nice.

My main takeaways from this outfit are:

The bones of an Aeon, with mortal and “Primum Mobile” restrictions combining to constrain.

The bones of an Emanator, slowly whittled away with time and the weathering of longevity bestowed by Elation.

The general themes of rot, decay, snakes, venom, constraint, and being suffocated.

Ouroboros, constant cycles, prey caught in a trap of potentially its own making.

Any combination of these!

(I also wrote this piece before really getting into the Doll!Sampo theory, but there is definitely an interpretation to be had regarding Sampo as a creation of Aha! The decaying animal and contradictory colors could represent the fight between Sampo’s “purpose” and who he really wants to be, as well as the chains of Elation choking his freedom of self-expression and want to be his own person. The consistency of constricting and containing bones could also speak to him being a “shadow” of Aha, the echo of a greater being while still powerful himself. If he was created in Aha’s own likeness, he would probably feel the pressure of always being in the shadow of his creator.

Additionally, many other parts of this analysis can still apply to Doll!Sampo, as I see him as at least Emanator status. Longevity would take even more of a toll on him here, since he would have lived so long being disregarded by others as a “toy.” I’ll probably elaborate more on this when I do a dedicated breakdown of my Doll!Sampo theory!)

A note I couldn’t find a good place for earlier: snake bones also imply shed skin, some siphoning off of a greater part of oneself to be reborn anew. Perhaps he is the dead and dying snake, preparing to molt into something even greater. That’s all!

The End! Overall, I feel like I realized a lot of potential things about Sampo going through the parts of his outfit one-by-one. I’m definitely more on board with the idea of being simultaneously constricted and constrained now! Ties that bind, and all that. I also didn’t realize just how much of a battle his outfit feels like until I really looked at it, and now I feel bad for the poor guy. Whatever his endgame identity is, he is not having a good time. I want to give him a hug :((

Also, I want to include this bonus concept art since it shows the snake motifs were a big aspect from the beginning:

Anyways, that’s all!

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ જ⁀➴ thanks for reading to the end!

(volume warning)

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© analysis by sunderingstars. do not copy, repost, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[girl-next-door-writes]

If You Love Her

Characters: Spencer Reid x reader

Summary: Morgan tries to set up Spencer and Reader in the hopes that all they need to get together is a little push. Little does he know, they’ve been together for a while.

Word Count: 948 words

Prompt: secret relationship, fierce kiss, chaste kiss, falling asleep, only one bed.

A/N: This is for the magnificent @marvellover-12 and fabulous @kalliblast as part of my ‘build-a-blurb’ follower celebration.

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he fell for you; it could have been the first time you smiled at him, or when you understood his random Doctor Who reference, perhaps it was the many times you had playfully defended him against Morgan’s teasing. More likely it was a combination of all the little moments, the shy glances, the brush of your hand against his. Spencer knew that finding the exact moment was not important, he was completely in love with you, and he knew you felt the same way.

The past few months had been like a beautiful dream. Secret coffee runs, elaborate excuses as to why neither of you could join the team for drinks, stolen kisses in the break room. This was all so new, and it had been agreed that you didn’t want to share it just yet. Better to see how things progressed, build a solid foundation before you had the team interrogating you both. Not that your behaviour had gone unnoticed.

Being pulled from his bed to jet across the country was never Spencer’s favourite thing; sleep being quite a rare commodity for him at times, yet here he was. The flight was going to be a long one, and after a briefing and looking over the notes he had found his head growing heavy. Stifling another yawn, Spencer tried his best to keep his eyes from closing, aware of Morgan’s studying gaze on him.

A weight suddenly fell on his shoulder, and he glanced down in surprise, smiling softly when he realised you had nodded off and were now using him as an impromptu pillow. Shifting a little, he made sure you were comfy before leaning his cheek against the top of your head. This wouldn’t be the first time a team-mate had fallen asleep in him, so he figured nobody would be suspicious. As he drifted to sleep, he couldn’t help but smile to himself, feeling reassured by your presence.

Morgan watched the two of you curiously. He was well aware of Spencer’s not so subtle crush on you, hell, he’d teased the boy enough about it. The boy genius seemed to drop iq points around you like a tree in fall, not to mention the stuttering over his words. He had to admit though, that over the last few months, the boy wonder seemed to have got his shit together a little better, though the longing looks across the bullpen and the dreamy smile on his lips had only gotten worse. Penelope seemed convinced that his feelings were reciprocated, but nothing would happen as neither of you was the type to make the first move. No, what you needed was a push; the whole team agreed.

You shifted in your sleep, your arm coming up to rest around Spencer’s waist as you let out a soft sigh. Morgan nudged JJ, nodding at the two of you with a smirk, which was quickly dropped when the two of them witnessed Spencer turn his head and place a tender, chaste kiss to the top of your head. It was a gesture of such familiarity and intimacy that Morgan had to grab onto JJ to stop her letting out an excited squeal. Yeah, it was incredibly cute, but it was hardly a conscious act. It did, however, show promise. Perhaps sleepy Spencer would be more open to making that first move, and that is how the ‘fool proof’ plan came to be.

If felt like the longest day ever by the time the team rolled up to the motel. Early morning flights combined with a full day wading through the horrific atrocities left by this killer meant that everyone was practically dead on their feet.

“I’ve got two doubles and the rest are singles, so fight it out amongst yourselves.” Hotch said tiredly as he grabbed a key to a single room and padded off down the corridor.

“Rossi?” Morgan picked up a key and nodded towards the corridor.

“Seriously? Can’t you share with Spence?” the older man grumbled.

“Oh, hell no! Not making that mistake again.” Morgan chuckled, glancing over at JJ.

“You two don’t mind sharing do you? I just want to talk to Will and maybe do that ‘falling asleep together over video call’ thing?” She looked at you both hopefully and it took everything he had to stop Spencer agreeing immediately.

“Sure, I don’t mind sharing with Spencer. I can always get him to read to me.” You chuckled as you picked up the final key. “Come on then roomie, I get first pick of bed though.”

As soon as the motel door closed, Spencer had tossed your bags into the room and cupped your face with his freezing cold hands. You were about to protest when his lips caught yours in a searing kiss that made your lack of sleep and the temperature of his hands irrelevant. Stumbling over to the bed, still tangled up in each other, it took you a few moments to realise that this room only had one bed.

“Do you think they know?” Spencer asked, looking at you with a hint of concern in his eyes.

“About us or about there only being one bed?” You asked with a growing smirk. “Do you think Morgan and Rossi are having the same conversation?”

“You think it’s a genuine mix up?”

“I think it doesn’t matter. I think that I get to share a bed with my gorgeous boyfriend and the BAU picks up the bill.”

“Okay, but we’ll have to be quiet, we don’t know how thin these walls are.” Spencer grinned before pushing you back onto the bed and resuming his kisses.

[junghelioseok]

heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

-

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

[oneofthosesimps]

His Mate

pairing: bakugou x fem!reader I nsfw

word count: 2740

summary: bakugou takes care of you during your heat and makes you his mate

warnings: blood (because he bites you), rough sex, sub/dom, dirty talk, insulting (because it is bakugou), fluff

authors note: i love the alpha/ beta/ omega universe and it has always been a dream to write a fanfic on this topic. and bakugou would be the perfect alpha change my mind <3

-> you don't even notice that i have a certain preference when it comes to the selection of my husbandos

all credits to the artist of this pic:

unfortunately i do not know who it is from (again, I'm so sorry, but I can't find the original source)

-----

Hot.

Thick, shiny beads of sweat form on your skin and make your hair stick to your forehead. A deep blush begins to cover your body and you whimper out.

Hot.

Your head is heavy and feels dense, as if opaque veils of mist are wrapped around your brain. Your body begins to burn, but from the inside. Blazing flames roam your limbs, licking at your nerve endings and leaving them tingling.

You feel so terribly hot.

You tear your eyes open and push the blanket off your body to cool down a bit, but the cold wind blowing in through the open window brings no help. Your hands start to shake as you feel your legs getting wet. Thick juice flows out of your core, leaving your abdomen aching. Your body starts to move and you roll out of bed, "So hot, fire." Your croaky voice echoes through the room, you don't recognize it. Tears form in your eyes and you sob. Your body aches and tingles at the same time. Before your legs touch the soft carpeted floor of your room, arms wrap around your waist.

"Where are you going?" A warm shiver comes over you as you hear his dark, deep voice and your eyes roll slightly.

"Out, shower, hot, fire." With another whimper, your body is pulled back into the bed and a warm, large body leans over you. Paws grip your wrists and press them into the soft mattress. Bakugou above you frowns as your bitter pheromones reach his nose. Immediately, he releases more of his scent to push the fear and pain out of you. Your glazed eyes turn upward and you look into dark red eyes that sparkle down at you from between blonde strands, "You don't seem to be giving me much of a break this time."

Your stomach does a tumble before you push yourself towards him. Your nipples harden and stand up at him. He watches your movements and licks his lower lip as he breathes in the sweet scent of your slick, "I see." He props himself above you so as not to crush you with his weight and presses his face to your neck. His soft tongue slides over your scent glands and your eyes turn into your skull. He is so close to you that his smell takes you completely and messes with your head. He smells good enough to bite into, like warm caramel, blazing fire on a lukewarm summer evening and the after smell of fireworks in the night. You inhale deeply and sigh contentedly, stretching your neck out to him for complete access. Bakugou feels much the same way. He had never smelled anything as good as you. It drives him crazy and leaves his cock hard. He rubs himself harder against you, spreading his scent over every part of your body. Never again shall you smell like another Alpha, everyone shall know you are his.

"Fire," you gasp as his teeth gently dig into the tender skin of your neck, careful not to bite too deeply and make you his mate.

"Not for long, I promise." His voice is like warm honey, easing the pain in your abdomen a bit, "This time we'll try something different, so hopefully you'll be satisfied longer, shitty Omega." With those words his hands leave your wrists and you are turned onto your stomach with a flip. Immediately you push your butt in his direction and stretch towards him. The moisture between your legs becomes stronger and flows down your legs. At the sight of your round cheeks in front of him, Bakgugou growls out. The sound comes deep from his throat and makes you groan. His big hands on your ass make you whimper and he pulls the soft fat apart. Immediately his eyes fall on your little asshole, which twitches from the spreading of your cheeks. His balls tighten painfully at the thought of fucking it, stretching and tearing it apart. But that will have to wait until you have regained your senses and can really perceive what dirty things he is doing to you. Further down, he sees your red, swollen lips. Slick oozes out of them, leaving them shiny. The strong smell wafts towards him, making the water in his mouth pool.

"Alpha will take care of you," he murmurs behind you, and his right hand leaves your ass cheek, moving upward. He strokes along your spine. Despite the heat in your body, goosebumps come over you and you groan. How good every little touch of him feels. His hand lingers in the small of your back and he presses it deeper into the mattress, pushing your butt even higher. You claw into the sheet beneath you as you feel his thick glans at your entrance moments later.

"Alpha," you moan, pushing your pelvis back. This causes his cock to push in easily. His hot, fat tip pushes your walls apart and slowly slides inside you, stretching you. A deep growl comes from Bakugou.

Alpha happy, Omega makes Alpha happy, repeats over and over in your head.

His hands press firmly into your flesh, making you yelp. The pain mixes with the feeling in your stomach and you're sure he's leaving dark marks on your skin. They will join the other bite and scratch marks on your body and once you leave this room, everyone will see what Bakugou is capable of. Despite all the liquid, you can feel him splitting your insides and leaving them tingling.

"Alpha," you moan again as Bakugou sinks fully inside you, him pressing against the back of your cervix.

"You're so stupidly fucked, you can't say anything else, can you, Omega?" He pulls out of you before sinking deep inside you again, making you yelp. Slowly, over and over again, he repeats this process. It makes you feel so nice and full. His fat cock fits perfectly inside you, filling you to the hilt. "I haven't heard you say anything but 'alpha' or 'fire' in hours," he taunts. Bakugou's hands settle on your ass again and he spreads it. How beautiful it looks when his thick cock, shimmering with your juices, pulls out of you, leaving your tight cunt empty before drilling into the heat of your body again, arriving home, "Such a good, stupid Omega, you make Alpha so happy." With each of his thrusts his balls lightly smack against your clit. With each of his thrusts, you moan out, clawing into the pillow beneath you. Mouth open, you drool all over the fabric as the Alpha behind you fucks you so well. The sound of flesh on flesh fills the room. Your moans grow louder as Bakugou changes angles and thrusts against the squishy spot inside you. Burying his face against your neck, he inhales your scent and rolls his eyes.

"Alpha," you moan out, trying to push harder against him and follow his rhythm to push him deeper inside you.

"What, Omega?" his right paw leaves your ass and travels to your shoulder, clasping it and pulling it back. Your torso straightens upward, making him hit every point of your insides perfectly. The blond spikes of his hair graze your neck and his breath on your neck makes your belly tingle. "What do you want? Do you want more?"

You whimper out and a smirk crosses his face. His other hand goes around your neck and he presses your back against his chest. At this angle, he changes his speed and hardness. Each thrust hit even deeper and tears you in two. Each thrust sends you closer to heaven and makes you jerk in his arms. Now his balls hit right against your clit, massaging it. Shamelessly, you moan loudly as he fucks you way too well, murmuring to your neck about how well you're doing and what a good Omega you are.

"You think you can cum for me, shitty Omega?" he murmurs, his hand on your shoulder running between your legs. His long fingers gather your juices and massage them into that little knob. Your moans grow louder and your lower body twitches harder. Your walls tighten and Bakugou moans loudly, "Oi, Omega. You're so tight again, and that's even though I've fucked you so many times. How is this possible." Your eyebrows draw together at his words and butterflies flutter through your body. "Can you feel my full, heavy balls slapping against you?" you whimper loudly and he laughs softly, "I can't wait to fill you again, Omega. Are you looking forward to it already as my knot grows inside you and stretches you painfully wide?"

With these words in combination with the friction of your clitoris, you go over the threshold. You moan loudly as your body jerks in rhythm with your insides. Bakugou gasps as you tighten to the max, trying to milk him. He bites your shoulder, far away from your neck, so as not to come inside you right away. He wants to savour this round longer, but his Alpha growls at him to finally fill you, to squirt his thick, hot juice inside you. Meanwhile, the flames spread inside you. Starting in your belly, they burn everything in their path and leave you breathless. It feels so incredibly good, like you're floating above the clouds. Bakugou's massive body continues to rock against you, fucking you through your orgasm before you fall weakly against him. The flames inside you retreat again, but the fire is still on. Your Omega is not satisfied yet, the thick knot is missing. You need more, want more.

Your head rests against Bakugou's chest and he catches your weight. He licks over the bite mark on your shoulder and puts his hands on your waist. His nails dig into your flesh, leaving crescent moons behind. The scent of your orgasm is heavy in the air. He clenches his teeth and tenses his muscles. Like all the times before, he's about to put his mouth to your throat and claim you. His Alpha is fighting inside him. You are hisperfect mate, you shall be his. But the last brain cells in him tell him that he has to hold back until your heat is over. You have to ask him to dig his teeth into you - otherwise the whole ritual has no value.

"Alpha." Your delicate voice gets through to him and he looks down at you. You are so beautiful when you are fucked. Sweat coats your skin and makes you glow like a goddess.

"Omega." Such beautiful, small, perfect Omega. He gets more brutal, in search of his own release he fucks against your body, making your breasts bounce up and down. Your moans get louder again and the knot reappears. Your voices blend, vibrating the walls around you.

"Alpha." God, your voice is so sinful. The knot in his stomach tightens, tightens. His cock is pumping full, getting ready to shoot all his juice into you, filling you to the brim. He can no longer control the sparks that form on his hands and shoot into your skin. They shoot single bolts of lightning through you and converge in your clit, making your walls twitch uncontrollably.

"Good Omega, good Omega," he moans out loud, and he stares at your face. Your red cheeks, your half-closed eyes staring forward unfocused, your open mouth, your tongue sticking out. A thread of saliva drips down from its tip and comes up your leg. His eyelids close and he thinks about you. How he bends his head down and sucks your saliva off your tongue, pulling it into his mouth. He's so close, getting closer to his end with each thrust.

"Mark me." He tears his eyes open and his gaze falls on you again. Your voice is so low and weak he thinks he's misheard before you repeat those words, louder this time.

"What did you just say?" Those are the first real words from you in ... three days? Your voice is so raspy, and yet the words come over him like a flood. His eyes go pure black before his thrusts stop. He holds your body in place as you move back and forth to create more friction. A deep dark sound escapes his throat, making you wince. "You're babbling bullshit, shitty Omega. You can't think straight." His voice is frightening yet gives you a sense of security. He is so strong and powerful.

"Please, mark me." Again, the sound comes from him and you press yourself against the heat of his body. The flames in your body grow stronger again and you tighten your walls.

"Don't joke with me, Omega. Don't say something you'll regret later." His face approaches your neck again, though he tries to pull himself together, but his Alpha is about to take over his thinking. The situation is dangerous. His teeth start to ache and saliva flows from his mouth as he admires the site of your scent glands. Hadn't he just decided not to make you his mate during your heat? He wants to wait until you can live and think independently again, and yet you say these words to him. How can he not mark you? He wants it so badly. Omega, his Omega.

"My Alpha." That's the first time you've titled him as his. Otherwise, you're always just calling him simple Alpha when you're not complaining about burning inside. And those words push his Alpha to its limit. His eyes are wide-set, black. His fine hairs on his skin stand up. He draws in your scent deeply and licks across your neck. His blond spikes tickle your skin again and you whimper.

"Omega, my Omega, mark you." His soft tongue tickles you before he grips your neck and stretches your throat. He presents himself the wet, fragrant spot before his bit digs into you. My silly little Omega

Explosion. This is what it feels like to get a mate. It's an explosion, rising up from the deepest of your hearts and taking you in. It overtakes your senses and you lose touch with the earth. Different feelings roam your body.

As sweet as fresh strawberries on a warm summer day, while the sun is just casting its last rays on his face. As light as feathers stirred up by a barely perceptible breeze and slowly sinking back to the ground. As beautiful as a flower just opening, its petals covered by the dew on the meadow.

This explosion brings another. Bakugou's thick, white juice squirts into you as he bites into your skin. He moans loudly and clings to you. His knot forms and stretches you wide, closing off your little hole as he continues to fuck you, his hips working against you. The same feeling for you. You come again, much harder this time. "Katsuki," you scream deep from your throat, making the Alpha behind you whimper and moan.

It never seems to end.

Blood pours from your throat and between Bakugou's teeth into his mouth. He drinks it greedily until the flow subsides. His teeth loosen and he licks over the wound, cleaning it. Your whole body weakens and your strength leaves you. Immediately Bakugou holds you tight and supports you while his head gradually becomes clearer and he realizes what just happened.

"Shitty omega," he mutters, pulling the blanket around you, "You're stupid. You shouldn't have said that, shit. Omega, do you know what that means, stupid?"

"My Alpha," you murmur, and his heart swells. Your slowly dozing body snuggles up to him and he brushes the hair off your forehead. His gaze falls on the fresh, deep bite wound on your neck and the fire that is just slowly leaving you seeps into his body. He is overcome by a clarity he has never felt before. The earth's gravitational pull seems to change, seems to weaken, and suddenly you are the center of his world. The whole universe comes apart at the seams and accepts you as its new center. Like a shining star you sit in his lap, his thick cock buried deep inside you and he could worship you immediately and on the spot. Never would he ever let you go again, never would he not protect you. This stupid little omega, this shitty woman is his for all eternity. You are his life. His mate.

[allthingsarmin]

fckboy armin? + degredation is always a good combination <3

I was so excited to write this dose of Armin brainrot, omg 😩

If it’s alright with you, anon, I did this request in more of a headcanon format, but the ending is more of a fanfiction format. I’m also sorry I took so long to write this omg.

MINORS DNI!

Fem!Reader, FemBodied!Reader

TW: Mentions of NSFW topics + degradation, mean!armin, manipulation, fuckboy topics

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin whose style resembles that of the horny, manipulative, ghost-y men on campus yet is just too hot for you to handle. The way he wears dark silver rings on his left thumb, middle, and pointer fingers that accentuate his slender, pale fingers and clean-cut nails. The way the small, dark tattoos on his knuckles, right forearm, and collarbone add an aura of mystery and aggression to his being that just exudes sex. The way he wears a gold chain necklace with distressed jeans and a plain t-shirt that’s just a little too tight and shows off his pecks. Or the way he wears long black joggers and an oversized long-sleeve black shirt that makes him look taller. The way he doesn’t wear his mask correctly, always hanging on one of his ears which compliment his stud earrings and devilish smirk. The way he is broke because he’s always spending money on the newest, trendy shoes. The way he always uses way too much cologne… One look at him, and you can sense his ‘asshole attitude,’ but you can’t deny it makes your lower regions pulsate.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who’s body is so perfectly sculpted and toned that it leaves you thinking dirty thoughts in class. The way he sits in class with his sleeves rolled up, laying back relaxed in the chair, right leg bouncing out of boredom as his hard cock becomes noticeable in his grey sweatpants makes you want to run to your dorm and touch yourself. The way his abs call out to you to graze your fingertips against them when he lifts his shirt up to wipe away the sweat after walking home from the gym. The way his beautifully slender fingers hold his phone or push his hair back when he’s frustrated makes you think about how good they would feel inside you. The way his accentuated collarbone peaks through his thin t-shirts, allowing you to see the hickeys and imprints of love bites from god knows how many women makes you jealous. The way his skin is so pale and so soft that his blonde leg hair becomes barely noticeable. The way his golden hair brings out a plethora of the shades of blue in his eyes, and oh how his haircut suits him perfectly, shaping his jawline very well. How his beautiful blue eyes dangerously lure you into him, the soft but manipulative stares he gives you. How he can’t seem to maintain eye contact with you for more than three seconds because he looks at your breasts. The sinister yet sexy smiles he has plastered upon his face when talking with his friends about ‘some other whore’ he fucked the other day… Armin is attractive, and he knows he is attractive. Though you hate how arrogant his looks have made him, his suggestive stares and lip bites from such a handsome man make your heart flutter and mind only focused on one thing.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who is always posting thirst traps on instagram. You know… The pictures with the squinted eyes and the bitten lower bottom lip, either showing off his money or new shoes, pictures beside a nice car, suggestive pictures with the new girls he’s been fucking recently, biting his chain necklaces because he thinks it’s sexy. Only follows ‘successful’ men and offensive meme accounts but mostly follows half-naked women and supermodels. Leaves nasty comments on ugly womens’ pictures, calling them whores while he’s in hot girls’ DMs sending unsolicited dick pics and asking for nudes. Has thousands of followers, mostly from the party girls and rude men who go to his college. Won’t let you tag him in a photo unless he ‘looks hot.’

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who takes slutty gym pictures with his shirt off, abs out, shorts low enough to see his V line, hands in his hair, and a wink. Sends it to every girl in his snapchat contacts and posts it on his story with the ‘slide up’ text.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who hits you with the “you up?” at 2am on snapchat after ghosting you for two months. Tells you how much he misses your lewd moans and sloppy cunt, and then after pressuring you to give him nudes, he saves them and then doesn’t talk to you for at least a week.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who is so intelligent and dangerously manipulative. Who is so smart that he doesn’t need or want to pay attention in class, who convinces you to let him keep the nudes you sent him on snapchat, who reels you right back in when you try to move on from him.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who was nice to you at first, befriending you when you looked so alone, shy, and innocent, who only chose you because you looked so easy to take advantage of when he finally closes in on you.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who says he doesn’t want ‘any of that relationship stuff’ because all of his exes were crazy and that he only wants to date hot chicks.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who only texts you at ungodly hours during the weekdays and plays games like ‘20 questions’ with you so he can ask you if you’re either a virgin or a whore, if you like oral, if you’ve thought about him in dirty ways before… or truth or dare, asking you if you if you want to be his slut or daring you to send him lewd pictures of yourself.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who takes every chance he can get to turn anything sexual: the way your skirt is just a little too short that makes him suddenly grab your upper thighs, the way you innocently lick your ice cream cone on a hot summer day - he tells you to put your tongue on his cock instead, how you put your hair up in a high ponytail just makes him want to pull on it and kiss the crook of your neck… it all leaves him clouded with dirty thoughts.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who calls you ‘babe’ and refers to you as his ‘girl’ even though he has a million bitches on the side.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who makes you feel like shit about yourself because he’s constantly sending you womens’ profiles on Instagram, saying you should look more like them and ‘get a nicer ass.’

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who becomes more controlling as your sexual relationship continues, basically forcing you to let him check your phone in case you're messaging other dudes and being naughty for men besides him but gets defensive when you want to see his phone.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who refuses to eat you out but expects you to praise his cock with your slutty mouth and wet tongue.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who doesn’t really care about your personal problems or pain, and whenever you tell him you’re hurting on the inside, he offers to let you come over to his house so that he can fuck you: “once my cock is inside you again, you’ll forget all about your sadness.”

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who doesn’t use condoms because he ‘can’t feel anything’ when he wears them, so he just assumes that you’re on birth control when he cums inside you.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who violates your privacy when he’s online gaming with his closest friends, Eren and Jean, as he tells them through the microphone about how tight and wet your pussy is and how much you enjoy being treated like a slut, your mouth full of his cock and pussy dripping with his cum… going as far as sending secretive videos he took of you to them where you’re whimpering and begging for Armin’s cock.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who pressures you to do risky things you don’t want to do, but you just can’t find the courage to say no to him when he stares at you with his intense blue eyes… like when he asks you to sit next to him in the back of the class then without your approval, sneaks his slender fingers into your panties and starts harshly playing with your clit. He devilishly smirks as you try to suppress your cries of disapproval. Or like when he convinces you to let him take videos of you when you’re in a position that exposes your slick cunt to him so well. Or even how he manipulates you into trying something new that you’ve never been comfortable with, like swallowing his thick cum, letting him put you in a full-nelson, maybe letting him choke you while he spits in your mouth.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who finally closes in on you, begging you to help him study for the upcoming test since he wasn’t paying attention in class because ‘you’re just so distracting’ to him, acting so smart and innocent and respectably in front of the teacher when Armin really knows that your slutty outfits and wet pussy says otherwise… so you excitedly go over to his dorm, thankful that finally it will be a normal get-together where you could actually find out more about Armin instead of finding out more about how he likes his cock sucked. Upon entering his dorm, it is apparent that he never planned on studying with you as his textbooks are nowhere to be found, and he is sitting on the couch half-naked with Netflix on the TV.

ᵔᴥᵔ “Oh hey, y/n, didn’t expect to see you here so soon,” he says nonchalantly. You unknowingly stare at his broad shoulders, his strong chest, and of course his V-line that is not hard to miss as he carelessly talks shit about his teachers. “See something you like?” arrogance seething from his teeth as he brushes back his blond hair. You don’t say anything as your face grows red. He takes your hand and leads you to the couch. “Come on, let’s watch something.”

ᵔᴥᵔ The sound of skin slapping drowns out the voices on the TV. You don’t even know how Armin managed to get you into this position again where you’re so submissive under him, giving into him yet again. He flips you over on your back, and he props himself up, looking over your figure that’s so pathetically displayed below him. You can see his angelic hair stick to his forehead as the sweat drips down his soft but sharp cheeks. The look in his eyes has gone dark, and his smile is sinister as if he was a predator about to devour a prey. He wickedly laughs as you grind your needy cunt against his hard cock. This is where he really gets mean.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin loves to degrade you like the whore you are, constantly reminding you just how easy you are to take advantage of, how easy you are to win over with just some dick, how easy it is to make your sloppy cunt squirt and tingle from multiple orgasms, how easy it is to make you whimper and beg for his thick cock to make a complete mess of your pussy.

ᵔᴥᵔ “You really didn’t think I invited you over just to study, did you?” he snickers as he cruelly and slowly thrusts into your aching cunt, making eye contact with you and grinning as your face turns red. He grabs your throat, choking you, and begins to thrust faster which pulls shaky moans from under your breath. He inches close to your ear and whispers, “you even came over here without wearing underwear under that short skirt of yours…” he switches to the other ear, “and when I started touching your dirty cunt during the movie, you were already so wet,” you shiver at his words. He pulls back and gives you a gentle slap with his left hand, his rings stinging your face, and uses his right hand to twist your perky nipples. He begins to laugh, “but I’m not surprised that a filthy slut like you - my filthy slut - would think of such impure thoughts during something as innocent as watching a movie.” Armin leans closer to your face again, still thrusting into you at a quick pace. His warm breath raises goosebumps on your skin. He harshly grabs your mouth and tells you to open, which you submissively comply with, and he spits into your mouth which causes you to whimper. He smacks the side of your thigh. “You like being treated like some depraved slut don’t you?” You don’t reply, but the fluttering in your tight pussy says otherwise. He flips you onto your stomach, your breasts mushing into the couch, and without warning, he forces his girthy cock into your tight pussy. He is thrusting into you at an ungodly pace, making you scream and moan incoherent words. “What’s my little slut saying? Use your words, baby,” he teases. At this point, you can only call out his name. “A-armin…” He begins to torturously thrust into that one spot, and within seconds, you're bucking your hips, intensely squirting onto his couch and leaving a sopping wet dark spot. “Fucking whore, gonna have to buy a new couch because you can’t control your filthy cunt,” he growls into your ear. He quickly flips you over onto your back again, wanting to see your face. Your face is contorted with such pleasure; your eyes are rolled to the back of your head, and your mouth is wide open with drool dripping down your jaw. Armin shudders, his cock getting even harder in your tight pussy. “So hot… such a lewd slut.” He immediately brings out his phone, taking a picture. “Want me to show my friends what a cock-hungry whore you are?” You quickly nod. “So fucking pathetic,” he snarls. “I’m going to destroy your cunt, slut.” He shoves his warm tongue in your mouth, gently grabbing the hair on your foggy head. “I’m gonna break you in so bad,” he mumbles, wiping the tears from your face.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who maybe in fact does want to have that ‘relationship shit’ with you ~

__________________________

Requests are open, and feedback is appreciated <3

[missvelvetsstuff]

Miss Velvet

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Y/N is a disabled equestrian and therapeutic riding instructor who helps Tony Stark with his PTSD after returning from Titan. When the Avengers bring everyone back he hires her to work with Avengers and SHIELD hires her as therapist and teaching basic riding skills because you never know when a horse will be the best mode of transportation.

Bucky Barnes is a manwhore who is enjoying his freedom for the first time in decades and pays no mind to y/n when she meets the team because he learned to ride from Hydra and too is busy pursuing his next conquest.

Post Endgame but everybody survived, because I said so. And Steve helped get Sharon Carter pardoned so they are together.

Chapter 9

Warnings: angst, SWEARING, attempted blackmail

Velvet, Nat and Wanda head downstairs to the party to see many of the guests were already there. The pool was full and surrounded, there was a line at the bar and the bbq buffet.

Velvet tried to look for Bucky without being too obvious but couldn't see him so figured they needed to get deeper into the crowd. She heard Thor laughing about something and looked over to see him talking to Steve, Rhodey and Maria. She saw Tony and Pepper sitting by the pool watching Morgan showing off all the swim strokes she has learned. Nat and Wanda wander away from her to find their men.

She finally sees Sam and Bucky and waves, he smiles then frowns and looks away. Sam half waves then looks to Bucky to see what his deal is.

Velvet is hurt and turns away to hit the bar hoping some liquid courage will help. She needs to at least stay until everyone sings happy birthday to Steve and then she can sneak out and go home where Indy will console her. She takes a candy to help relax but it doesn't seem to help not even when combined with her drink. Velvet wanders aimlessly while carefully avoiding where Bucky is being courted by a group of agents, not seeing how he keeps looking at her instead of them.

After Steve is serenaded and his cake cut the fireworks begin and not just in the sky. Velvet sees a couple walk up to Bucky, pushing past his groupies and right into his space. The woman looks like she could be Janell from the back, but that's impossible because Friday would have seen her and notified Maria who is not behaving like she has heard anything.

Velvet pushes the button for Friday on her starkphone "Friday, has Janell Marshall returned to the compound?" "No Miss Velvet, I haven't seen her."

Bucky has been going nuts, not knowing what to do. He wants so badly to talk to her and be told that she knows but doesn't care and wants to give him a chance but he knows that's unlikely. He's watching her from his spot under a tree when a couple that he doesn't know comes up to him. The woman is short with long dark hair and seems familiar but he can't place her. The man is taller than the woman but shorter than Bucky and skinny like Steve used to be. The woman touches Bucky on the shoulder too intimately for someone he doesn't know and he pulls back.

"What's wrong Barnes? Don't recognize me? Doesn't matter, I've come to keep my promise to make you pay." She puts her hand over her face and pulls down removing the veil and showing her face.

"Janell" Bucky spits out, "Weren't you embarrassed enough at the stable that day? I'm not interested so leave me alone or I'll turn you in for harassment."

Janell grins "Don't worry about that, I'm over it but need to know if you got the package I sent you."

"No, I didn't get anything from you and I wouldn't open it if I did"

Janell's smile grows "but I want to show you something' and she reaches into her purse for an envelope then opens it and pulls out some pics and hands them to Bucky. 'Those' pics.

Bucky looks, his eyes grow wide and he growls "What kind of game are you playing, Janell?"

"The kind that I win. That's your precious Velvet a few years ago with my friend Roger here. I guess I was wrong about her being too goody goody for you, she might be too slutty for you."

"Shut the fuck up Janell, you are no one to be calling anyone else slutty"

Roger pulls his veil off and laughs "You're the one who wants my sloppy seconds, huh? I've see y/n fuck worse so I doubt she'll turn you down. Or is she still pretending that's her past? She's always come back to me. The blip might have slowed me down but I'm here to collect my property."

Bucky can barely control his rage and Sam puts his hand on his arm to remind him they aren't alone.

Velvet sees Roger and panics, unable to decide if she should confront him or run away. She doesn't get the chance to do either when she feels a hand grab her arm.

"I don't think so Miss high and mighty pricktease. I think you owe me a little something" and Velvet gasps as Matt Landers drags her towards the parking structure. "Surprised to see me sweetheart? I told you, my dad is a senator and you're nobody. Stark couldn't get rid of me and neither can you. At least not till I'm done with you. And if you ask anyone for help those pictures go on the web."

Velvet looks around and sees that everyone is too busy watching the fireworks to notice her distress, cringes "What do you want?"

"You know I'm not sure exactly. That night in the barn I just wanted to fuck you but you're little assassin toy hit me and then you humiliated me with Stark so we'll just have to play it by ear. I won't hurt you. Not too much."

Roger looks Bucky up and down "If it weren't for your metal arm I could totally take you."

Sam steps up "I don't have a metal arm"

Rogers eyes grow wide "I have no beef with you"

"If you're messing with my friends I have a beef with you and I have more to spare" Roger swallows and Bucky asks Sam

"Where did Velvet go?"

"I don't know Buck, I can't see her, man"

Their confrontation has drawn attention as the fireworks end. Nat recognizes Roger and grabs Bruce to help her investigate.

Roger looks at Janell "You told me no one would mess with us"

Janell laughs "don't be such a pussy, they won't do anything or those pics will go on the web. I told you all this already."

She faces Bucky with an evil grin "so Barnes, you are going to let us go because you should be more worried that my other associate has disappeared with your beloved while we distracted you."

Bucky looks around like a madman "who took her and where Janell?"

Janell laughs "I'll send you a text when he's done with her. Maybe. Of course it doesn't matter because Roger is taking her home. I promised he could have her when I found him in Cali. He really seems to miss her a lot."

Roger brags "she was one of my best whores. She would do anything for her next high. Anything."

Bucky roars "I promise I will come after you and you won't see me coming."

Sam looks at Bucky "dude, I know you're pissed but threatening a civilian in front of this many people is a bad idea"

Bucky gives Sam a dirty look "I don't have time to tell you how little I care. We have to find Velvet!"

Sam puts his hands up "ok man, I get it. What's the play"

Tony has been standing to the side listening to what's going on and told Friday to lock the compound down and kill any internet or phone signals as soon as he recognized Janell. He walks up casually "Hey, if its not that agent who was barely hanging by a thread but is now going to jail for blackmail and stealing my tech. And whoever her dirtbag date is."

Janell loses her composure for a minute then shakes it off. "As I've already told Barnes, mess with me and Velvet's graphic past hits the web"

Tony grins "Yeah about that, the compound is on lockdown and there's no signal so your other partner isn't going anywhere. Shouldn't have parked in the structure" Tony brings up the live feed of Matt in a truck trying to ram the barrier at the exit of the parking structure. Velvet unconscious in the back seat.

Janell starts laughing nervously "just a fun little prank, Velvet and I are like bff's we prank each other all the time."

Everyone but Bucky and Sam look at her like she's crazy. Bucky and Sam run towards the parking structure.

Tony asks "Did you really think that attempted blackmail and kidnapping were a good idea at an event full of your victims superhero friends? You really aren't smart enough for SHIELD. Maybe McD's will hire you after your release but I don't think you're even that smart. And your little friend, Roger is it? You thought Velvet was with the Winter Soldier but you could take her back and defend yourself from him? You two are made for each other. At least Landers tried to stay out of sight but he's not much of an improvement."

Nat walks up to Janell with the Big Guy standing behind her. She knows she could take these two out blindfolded with both hands tied behind her back but wants to see how scared they get. She starts laughing so hard she almost falls down when she sees liquid running down Rogers leg.

Tony sees and starts laughing "Please tell me someone has recorded this. Perfect to post on his social media. Now can someone please take out this trash."

Nat has finally caught her breath "lets go you two, you can stay in our holding cells while we figure out what to do with you. I'm sure General Ross will have some ideas."

Bucky beats Sam to Matt's truck and rips the back door off to get to Velvet "Velvet, Doll, are you ok?" Bucky is almost crying with relief when he sees her breathing and gently picks her up out of the car and heads towards the med Bay to have her looked at. On his way he sees Sam clothesline Matt and knock the wind out of him.

Sam looks over "She ok?"

"I think so but I'm taking her to be checked out. Can you call Helen to meet us there"

Sam nods and pulls Matt up by his upper arm. "Come on West Point, I don't think daddy can get you out of this one." Sam speaks again. "Friday can you tell everyone she's ok but ask Helen Cho to meet them in the med bay to make sure."

"Of course Captain Wilson, Miss Romanoff is taking the others to the holding cells" Sam heads towards the detainment area.

"Everyone knows I'm the last guy to stop a party but I think some legal issues need to be handled so, sorry. Better luck next time."

Once he hears that Velvet is ok Tony let everyone know and confiscated the cell phones of everyone who was recording advising them that they will need to make statements before they can get their phones back.

Once everyone is heading out the team heads to meet Nat and Sam in detention. Sam speaks up "so what are we doing with these fools? We should probably keep Bucky away from them. I don't think he could control himself anytime soon."

Steve nods, then grins evilliy at the detainees. "I'm not sure any of us would be much easier on them. Coming into our home and threatening one of our own. That's pretty serious."

Nat speaks up, "I have some thoughts' and the Big Guy next to her just grins and looks at the prisoners, Roger starts crying.

A couple of hours later Velvet starts waking up with a splitting headache and feels someone holding her hand. She tries to open her eyes but the light is too bright so covers her face with her other hand and mumbles "what the fuck happened? Where am I?"

A soft voice answers "You're in the med bay but you're ok"

Velvet looks at him "Bucky? What's going on." She tries to sit up but her head starts pounding and Bucky gently stops her.

"They gave you chloroform, you'll have a headache for a couple of hours"

"They? Wait Matt was taking me but why?"

"He conspired with Janell and Roger"

Velvet inhaled sharply and looks at Bucky "Roger? He's here? Oh my god, you did see the pictures. Oh no, Bucky please, please let me explain" she starts to tear up.

"Hey, hey it's ok I don't care about those pictures and neither does anyone else on the team. That's your past"

Velvet looks confused "then why haven't you called me or come by since you came back from that mission and why did you frown when you saw me tonite?"

Bucky sighs, "did Nat talk to you while I was gone?"

"About what?"

"About your accident and how I caused it. How I ruined your life. I didn't think you would want anything to do with me after she told you."

Velvet starts to roll her eyes but it makes her head throb "Could you maybe give me a little credit? I don't remember any of it but I have access to the internet. I've known for years, before I ever met Tony. I don't care. I know it wasn't your decision. Besides, my life is better now than it was before the accident. It was a rough road but I'd rather be here doing what I do than have all the Olympic medals in the world. What was it you just said about it's in the past?"

"Yeah but your past doesn't affect me, my past hurt you. Badly. You sure you don't care?" Bucky replies

"If I cared about your proximity to my accident then I would have said something when I went off on you for the desk thing"

"But, Bucky, my past can affect more than just you and me. General Ross could determine me a security risk and end my contract with SHIELD and demand that the team distances itself from me. The Avengers could be tainted and take a hit to their reputation and credibility. Tony could end my contract and kick me off of his land. If it gets out to the public it could ruin Serenity, no parent wants a drug addict whore around their kids."

Bucky squeezed her hands "We won't let any of that happen. I know Tony won't fire you and Ross can fuck off. I know for me if it's a choice between you and being an Avenger, you will always win." He kissed her forehead "Ok, I believe you don't care about my past. I should go now and let you get some rest"

Velvet shakes her head "no, you should ask Helen if I can go home and if it's ok you should take me home."

Bucky gets up to check with Helen and she says its fine but to make sure Velvet drinks plenty of water and gets some rest. Bucky comes back smiling, "you're all clear just have to hydrate and rest."

Tony strolls in "yay, she lives. You scared us for a minute there Miss. I'm just checking up on you and bringing a warning. Ross and Senator Landers will be here in the morning but we have a confession and multiple recordings of a good portion of the action so they can suck it. All three of tonites villains have some quality time with the American penal system in their future.

Barnes, take your girl home and make sure she gets some rest."

Bucky laughs "thats one order of yours that I can follow Stark. Come on, Doll. Let's get you home."

Velvet smiles as he picks her up bridal style "ok, I think I've had enough excitement for one night. You certainly throw a memorable party, Tony."

Chapter 10