#used shoes in bulk

[samiyatex]

Wholesale Second-Hand Shoes – Bulk Supply & Export from the USA.

Looking for second-hand shoes wholesale in the USA? Samiyatex is a trusted supplier of pre-owned shoes, offering high-quality used shoes in bulk for resale and export. Whether you're looking to buy second-hand shoes in bulk for your business or need wholesale used shoes for sale in the USA, we provide carefully sorted, top-grade shoes to meet your needs.

Top Supplier of Second-Hand Shoes for Export

We specialize in second-hand shoes for export, ensuring businesses worldwide have access to affordable, durable, and stylish footwear. Our wholesale collection includes:

✔ Grade A Used Sneakers in Bulk ✔ Casual & Athletic Shoes ✔ Men’s, Women’s & Kids' Footwear

🔗 Shop now at: Samiyatex Used Shoes

Buy Used Shoes Wholesale in California

If you're searching for used shoes wholesale in California, Samiyatex provides a wide range of options, including branded sneakers, dress shoes, and everyday footwear. Our used sneakers bulk selection is perfect for retailers and distributors looking for affordable, high-quality footwear.

✔ Competitive Wholesale Prices ✔ Hand-Sorted for Quality & Condition ✔ Sustainable & Eco-Friendly Sourcing

Why Choose Samiyatex for Bulk Used Shoes?

✅ Reliable Second-Hand Shoe Supplier – Years of experience in the wholesale market. ✅ Bulk Orders for Domestic & Export Sales – Ideal for resellers, exporters, and thrift stores. ✅ Eco-Friendly & Affordable – Support sustainable fashion with quality pre-owned shoes.

For bulk orders and inquiries, visit Samiyatex Used Shoes today and partner with a trusted leader in second-hand shoes wholesale!

[sen-thebootmutt]

What basic things should people know about caring for leather?

Oh, how I love all the questions /genuine 💞💞

Okay!!!

So, leather is a skin, right?? It’s a hide. How do we care for our own skin?? Your basic steps:

Rinse

Clean

Rinse

Moisturize

A light spray of water, clean with a gentle soap (non-scented glycerin soap or saddle soap and a small horsehair/badgerhair brush), rinse and wipe off all the soap residue, and moisturize!

“Sen,” you say, “how do I moisturize leather?” Good question!! It’s going to depend on the type of leather.

There’s two big categories of leather; oil tan, and high shine. Oil tan leather is matte, soft, and more flexible (think of old leather dress shoes or casual boots). High shine leather is, well, self explanatory lol (shiny, less flexible, more glossy).

With oil tan leather, you’ll use a leather conditioner! Most bootblacks recommend Hubberd’s Shoe Grease (a heavier, denser conditioner), Obenauf’s Heavy Leather Preservative (more waxy), or Aussie Saddle conditioner (like Obenauf’s, but has a higher beeswax content). These are all pretty easily available online, and can even be bought in bulk and put into other containers!

For high shine leather, you use polish! There’s lots of different brands, but most folks get their start with Kiwi shoe polish (not super high quality, but readily available at big box stores like Walmart and Target). Most experienced bootblacks will use Lincoln or Angelus polish (your choice will depend on things like local humidity, altitude, experience, and technique). Apply a thin layer of polish to the boot, mist with a light spray of water, buff with a horsehair boot brush, and finish with a fine cotton buffing cloth!

I love bootblacking, and I love teaching. If anyone wants, I might record myself the next time I do my boots, so y’all can see these techniques in action!

[transformation4life]

Looking The Part

Jerome wasn't know what he was expecting when he was dragged into attending a costume party in the middle of December. His friend Jake, practically begged him to come and he couldn't say no to his puppy dog eyes. The theme was weird too. "Dress up as the Job you wanted as a kid." For Jerome, he wanted to be a doctor. The thought of saving lives was really appealing to the young child, before reality hit him with all its down and the thoughts of constantly being around dying people became way less appealing once he experienced real life. Even so, he felt obligated to follow the theme and bought some doctor's outfit that even came with some work appropriate hat and shoes off some online store. It was crazy cheap too and here Jeremy was, staring at the uniform on his bed right before he needs to head to the party. "Let's get this over with..." He starts stripping down into just his underwear and starts putting the clothes on.

Jerome slid the pants over his legs, pulled the shirt over his head, put on some bracelets and put the cap on. To his surprise, they were a bit big on him. "I thought I got this in my size... Ugh whatever time to get to the par-" Jerome froze. It felt like his body just stopped moving and it felt like he couldn't move his body at all besides his face. "What the hell?!?!" He said to himself. But that's when the fun began. Jerome felt a quick jolt of pain hitting his entire body as his face scrunched in pain. It subsided eventually and that's when Jerome saw it. Jerome's body was... growing. Jerome could hear the snaps of his bones as he looked to his left arm bulging. growing. becoming much more meatier than it used to be. Now it looked like one thick tree branch with veins visibly covering the arm. He looked to his right and saw that his right arm now mirrored his left. "I-Is this making me muscular? W-Why?" Jerome spoke out. He still couldn't move and the transformation kept going. Jerome's torso underwent its own transformation as any fat on his stomach was evaporated leaving a flat stomach that gained six sexy bulges. Jerome's flat chest was flat no longer as two massive chugs called pecs adorned him now. To top it off, his torso gained a v-shape. Next up was Jerome's lower half as it instantly gained a lot of bulk. His legs becoming thick and beefy and his feet growing a couple sizes larger. It's a good thing he wasn't wearing the shoes yet. The next to last change was Jerome's ass becoming bigger and much more bouncy. What seemed to be the final piece of the transformation was Jerome's face as it became much more Brazilian in appearance while his skin gained a minor tan. The transformation stopped by thickening his vocal cords and letting Jerome free.

Jerome looked down at himself. He couldn't believe his eyes. He just turned into a brazilian stud in mere minutes. "O que havia nestes-" (What was in these-) He put his hand over his month. Did he just speak Portuguese?

"Como vou explicar isso para Jake?" (How am I going to explain this to Jake?) Jerome certainly couldn't go to the party looking like this. But how how would he change back?

But before Jerome could think further, he subconsciously lifted his right arm, flexing it. That instantly gave Jerome a hard on, which in turn made his cock grow inches longer. The fabric on the shirt even started to rip.

"Eu poderia me acostumar com isso..." (I could get used to this…) While pointing at the rip.

After Jerome said this, the final changes began. Small little hairs appeared on Jerome one by one until a thick forest on his torso and pecs. Tattoos above his left pec and left arm sketched themselves onto Jerome and for the piece of resistance, a luscious beard of facial hair grew onto Jerome's face as well as his hair becoming more professional. There even seemed to be some greys sprinkled in, giving him a much more older appearance. And that's when the memories came flooding in. Jerome was no longer jerome, he was Ademir Pereira, a brazilian doctor. He started bodybuilding at a young age and it showed. Years of medical knowledge entered Ademir's mind as his apartment quickly changed into a luxurious house with multiple rooms and his bedroom became much larger to boot. Jerome was all but gone. Ademir settled into reality, looking around his room, wondering why he was in his hospital uniform so late at night, but then he heard his phone ring. He picked it up and saw a text from someone named "Jake" "Hey man, still coming to the party?" Ademir was confused. From what he could string of his limited knowledge of english, he never said he was going to a party with this "Jake". he had an early morning workout before work. He had no time for parties. "eu não falo inglês" (I don't speak english) he typed before putting his phone down again. The phone promptly changed into something much nicer than the dingy one he had before. With that morning workout in mind, Ademir was ready for bed. He threw off his uniform, bouncing his pecs before promptly sleeping.

The next morning at the gym, Ademir was ready to get his workout on. He spotted his workout buddy and waved. "Vamos trabalhar meu amigo!" (Let's get to work my friend!) He said before showing off his pecs to them.

"Nossa, Ademir, com esses peitorais, você realmente precisa de um sutiã!" (Geez Ademir with those pecs you really need a bra.) "Haha! Você realmente acha isso?" (Haha! You really think so?) Ademir laughed with confidence as he took his shirt off.

"Definitivamente. Mas chega de falar disso, vamos colocar seus representantes!" (Definitely. But enough about that let's get your reps in!) His friend said before reaching for his arm.

Ademir nodded, as they got to work on their routines for the day. After a couple hours. Ademir did a good flex in the mirror for all to see. This was the life! But he better get to work soon, those patents need him.

This was Ademir's daily routine. Work hard, workout hard, flex hard. He wouldn't any other life. Not to mention the upkeep on his social media which he also enjoys. Just recently he bounced his pecs to his viewers and they cheered, sending him hundreds of donations. Ademir was happy and that's all the mattered.

[dresshistorynerd]

Sewing a turn of the 15th century French kirtle in doll scale

Another day, another historical doll outfit! This time it's Late Medieval. This was a popular style from about 1380-1420 France and Alpine area, but I specifically based this dress on French illuminations from the early 15th century, which mostly effects the details, like headwear. As always I hand stitched everything and stuck to historical construction methods as much as I could.

Chemise

I made a very simple chemise. The construction is based on what we know from extant finds, made out of simple rectangles and triangles, like earlier unlaced kirtles. Based on illustrations, chemise was fairly slim but unfitted enough it didn't need closures. I made it from linen, because it's not very gathered and won't bulk up too much, so I don't need to use my very fine cotton voile.

Cote

Cote is just the French word for kirtle, so appropriate here. This is the supportive layer cote, which was sort of an undergarment, but was considered fully dressed, if informal on it's own. The sleeves on this underlayer were always long and either fully fitted or gathered at the wrist. Some fitted sleeve styles had a flare at the wrist which covered the hand. The very fitted look was achieved with buttons. The silhouette was smooth and fitted, the waistline was slightly above the natural waist, though that was not as pronounced in France as in Northern Italy. Abdomen was emphasized, round lower stomach was the body ideal. The cut of the dress left plenty of room there. To fill that room I folded the chemise under the abdomen as a sort of padding. This was common to do with any kind of skirts, primarily to raise the hem when working, but why not for this purpose also? The necklines were fairly low and very wide.

I used cotton because I didn't have suitable thin enough wool that wouldn't have created too much bulk on this scale, but the cote should have been made from. The cotton is tightly woven and sells the look of a woven wool in this scale well enough for me. I didn't finish seems or line it to avoid bulk. I did give the lacing a cording to reinforce it and avoid wrinkling. The cotton was originally white, but I dyed it with iron oxide, basically rust, which at least is very much historical.

Hose

I made the hose from cotton as well for the same reasons as I did the cote. Long pointed style became fashionable around this time, as well as sewing leather soles in the bottoms of the hose instead of using shoes. Though often pattens (wooden flipflops basically) could be used when walking outside to protect the leather soles.

Cornettes or horned hair

I tied the hair with a tape on cornettes, where the volume of hair was tied on the temples to create a bit of horned appearance, especially when combined with the horned headwear. The sort of fillet which became more of a forehead loop seemed to have been tied into the hair, which I did.

Cotehardie

Cotehardie meant literally "bold cote", and in France that was what the formal outer cote was called. It was basically the same as cote, but made from more expensive materials and often had large hanging sleeves. I went with widening triangular sleeves, since they were perhaps the most popular sleeves at the time. I used fine fulled wool (verka) I had enough scraps left from. White fur was popular lining material, but obviously I can't use fur in this scale, I wish I had some light white velvet, it would have been pretty good, but I didn't. I lined the skirt and the sleeves with white cotton to imitate the look without adding too much body or extra bulk. I decorated the neckline with a simple golden trim. I thought about adding a bit of golden embroidery around it too, like seemed to have been popular, but my local crafts store had run out of golden thread so I decided to go with this only.

Accessories

Unlike the belt used with houppelande, which was below bust, the belt used with the kirtle or cotehardie, was very low, under the abdomen to emphasize it. I went for a silk belt look, which I'm imagining is embroidered/woven with golden thread, since embroidery that small would have been too painful. I had an old broken necklace, which I could use for the metallic parts.

With the pouch I went for the tasseled drawstring look, with simple embroidery manageable in this scale. I used linen for it.

Headwear

I made her a chaperon, which likely was where the escoffion got it's beginning, escoffion being the round tube-like headwear worn on top of the head seen in several primary source images above. Early form of escoffion was becoming very popular at the time, though chaperon's were still seen on women too. Chaperon, as seen below both on the left-most woman and the man in the middle was actually just the hood rolled into a circle.

Because the horned look was popular, the escoffion and chaperon were often worn over the wired horned veil, so I first made that. I made it from cotton to make it as light as possible. It was just a square I hemmed. I just used some wire to poke out the horns from her hair and pinned the veil close from the back and onto her hair from the top.

Then I made the open hood. It was just the regular hood which had become very popular during the last century and which had ever longer narrow tip, but it was pinned and worn open, probably because of the hair style and to again create the horned look. I made if from the same cotton I made the hose, even though it too should be from wool. But it was already too bulky as it was.

And finally I could make the chaperon. Here's first chaperon without wire or veil under it and then with those. The effect isn't as pronounced as I would have hoped because the hood is too bulky, but there is an effect which is nice.

[captain-marble]

silly thought that i’ve been rotating at might write someday (although knowing me…)

anyways!

someone gets mad and pranks the justice league by releasing clips of their embarrassing moments on tower (nothing that could reveal identities but still embarrassing)

it’s stuff like marvel failing at cooking

batman being sleep deprived and trying to parent different league members (namely marvel)

flash running into walls and things (a lot)

superman being afraid of a shoe and litterally leaping into the air to get away from it. (it was green)

anyways everyone find this hillarious and the members are a lil mortified. But fawcett takes it into their own hands to give marvel food (litterally he has too much food to know what to do with) to the point he ends up like going around sharing it with the homeless kids and stuff

not only that but the league decide to take it into their own hands to teach marvel. cut to videos being released of marvel learning to cook with different leaguers

superman: marv can you pass me a rolling pin? so what you’ve got to do is-

marvel looking at a pot of utensils questioning…. before tentatively holding out a masher: ?

superman: (blinks)

supes probably teaches him how to make apple pie and talk about how if you don’t use the sugar you can use the pie crust to make savoury pies too and blah blah life hack. his parents probably mean he’s the worst offender for trying to shove food or recipes onto marvel

hal and barry prolly teach him how to make like single guy with a shitty job type grind shit that’s like carb loaded and you can just bulk make and store ands got everything you need (cuz they always busy as hell and ain’t rich or anything so don’t got the time or stuff to make tons of food) (it kinda looks like struggle food but yk it gets them through)

hal: so yeah you just dump everything in and if it starts to look radioactive then you know it’s cooked-

billy ‘orphan street rat will eat anything’ batson: damn bitch you live like this? /silly

diana teaches him a greek dish from her childhood that she thinks marvel would feel nostalgic for (i mean billy doesn’t but he remembers eating it in past lives and the thought diana put into it really comforts him)

bruce either a) refuses to teach marvel anything as he himself cannot cook and won’t let the work know that (as all of these cooking videos have been being leaked to the internet who are EATING IT UP like it’s not just fawcett anymore everyone loves cap now becuase you can tell he’s just that authentic cuz his ass does not know these are being filmed) b) cannot cook so it ends up just being a hot mess c) they learn to make a new recipe together d) he has alfred teach him how to make something so he doesn’t embarrass himself e) he teaches marvel how to make struggle food that’s worse than hal and barry’s

marvel: aren’t you funded by a billionaire?

batman: hm

marvel: batman….damn bitch you live like this???????????

everyone just dogs on batman online for like banging bruce wayne (no one believes that the butts match :/ ) and yet still being ass at cooking, like bro is at nuclear levels of damn you live like this with his struggle food

anyways cap finds out about the cooking with cap vids and immediately gets all embarrassed that people know he sucks at cooking, fawcett lay off a little on giving him food now they know that the JL are helping him, but he regularly receives copies of old cook books and someone’s nans favourite recipe and stuff and he’s taking home enough food from the JL to actually eat well and is therefore a lot happier and so the JL are like wow marv really likes cooking, and so at least like once a week (usually more) someone (or sometimes just he will) will cook with him and he’ll take home the left overs (if people eat any otherwise he just takes it all himself (despite him frantically offering the food out to people cuz he feels bad for taking so much))

years later when the identity reveal happens they’re like wow??? this makes so much sense???? i’m so glad we’ve been inadvertently feeding the homeless child??? yippee for him not starving and being more healthy that he would’ve been????

but yeah it’s so silly and i think billy would actually love having the chance to eat foods he’s never had before, especially where he spent so long on the streets that he kinda was forced to like ration and buy cheap food, so like he’s being treated by trying new foods and risking not liking it and stuff

but yeah i just think cap cooking and baking is neat teehee

[webshood]

random Jason Todd hc's:

He has cauliflower ears

He's not necessarily catholic, but Catherine was a bit before she went on her addict espiral so he likes to go to church on her birthday and deathday

One of his ear lobes had to be stitched back together after a spar with Damian went wrong

Stephanie unintentionally got him into skincare so now he has a morning and night routine, he has all the top quality expensive stuff

He uses "women's" body lotion, so he's always smelling like jasmine and almond oil

His hair was very curly growing up, but after his dip in the pit it's more on the wavy side, Talia calls it his placenta perm

All his teeth grew back from zero after the pit so he had to use braces again and is stuck with retainers until his league assigned dentist says otherwise

He attends med school out of spite – gotta get that doctorate before anyone else in the family –, but everyone on his course loves him

Once he went undercover to a gym, spying on a villain and got swarmed by gym bros asking his workout routine, what he did for bulking and for his Instagram

Did modeling for one of his college friends as a favor once and people from the fashion department are bitter because he won't model again

Wanted long hair, but Dick has a mullet, Tim's hair is on the longer side, Damian's hair is long – but spiked – and Duke's locs were getting pretty long too, so he asked for a shorter haircut and got hit with the kdrama CEO haircut, carries around a tiny straightener to style it everyday, otherwise it looks weird

Has people stationed in every part of Gotham, from the working girls, drug trade, schools, government workers, the gcpd, every major company, kids also pass along messages like a big game of telephone

All of his lieutenants have a name related to red someway: Ruby, Valentine, Brick, Rusty, Sangria, Blaze

He's his own right hand man, Blaze, people are more open to him as Blaze and are mostly likely to spill or tell things to him they wouldn't dare to tell Red Hood so he uses it to keep his gang "clean"

Sangria is completely enamoured by Red Hood, but would throw a shoe at Blaze's face without thinking twice, Jason finds it funny

He was on the book club, theater, MUN and the choir during his time at Gotham prep , he was training to join the baseball team too, before shit hit the fan

Uses the British version of words/speaks with an accent constantly, since Alfred was the one who tutored him on stuff from the school years he missed

Talia sent him to a korean martial master and he had to learn how to do aegyo to survive, he sometimes will forget that he's a very large man and act/speak cutely whenever he's in the vicinity of an ahjumma, they usually find him adorable

[meadowfics]

the regular

the salesman / recruiter x f!reader

you stalk the man you have a crush on, unaware of what you signed yourself up for

warnings: MDNI!! NSFW!! SMUT!! smut with plot. the salesman is not a manic when it comes to sex here but he is fully dominant. unprotected p in v. degradation and praise. fingering (r receiving). squirting. sugar daddy/marriage situation at the end. stalking from both parties, fainting, squid game does exist here unfortunately.

it’s like clockwork.

every morning at exactly 7:55 a.m., the door chimes as he steps into the café. you don’t even need to look up to know it's him.

the sound of polished shoes against the tile floor, the subtle rustle of his suit jacket as he adjusts the strap of his briefcase...everything about him is precise, practiced, proper.

he never lingers at the counter. the man's eyes, dark and unreadable, meet yours just long enough for a polite nod before he places the same order.

"extra hot flat white, toasted bread."

by 8:05 a.m., he is gone.

this morning is different.

"could i buy your entire stock of bread?"

you blink, pausing mid-motion as you grab the usual slice for the toaster.

"um… all of it?"

"yes."

you glance at the display case, filled with neatly stacked loaves and slices.

"sir, i—i mean, that’s a lot of bread. are you throwing a party or something?"

the man's lips twitch in the faintest hint of amusement, but his expression remains unreadable.

"something like that."

your fingers tighten around the edge of the counter, his voice is smooth, almost too smooth, like he’s used to making deals, like he’s negotiating something bigger than just a bulk order of bread.

it's the way he looks at you, like you're just a fleeting moment in his day, like you’re nothing more than the barista who makes his coffee exactly the way he likes it.

well. that’s just annoying.

so what if you’re younger? ten, fifteen years, maybe? he’s still ridiculously handsome. sharp cheekbones, neatly styled hair, the kind of face that could belong to a politician or a conman... and that voice, ugh!

you try. oh, you try.

"you know," you say, leaning forward just slightly, just enough to see if he’ll react.

"if you needed a personal baker, you could’ve just asked. I can make you more sometime?"

nothing.

well, thats just fucking embarrassing!

there is not a single flicker of interest, not even an awkward chuckle. just a small, polite smile before he slides a crisp bill across the counter.

"will this cover it?"

ugh.

"yeah, sure," you mutter, ringing up the transaction.

"hope your bread party is fun or whatever."

he doesn’t notice. or, at least, he pretends not to.

so, naturally, you take extreme measures.

there's something about him. something that lingers in the back of your mind long after his scent, clean, crisp cologne, slightly sweet, fades from the café.

something that keeps you up at night, thinking about that damn briefcase he always carries, the way he speaks so precisely, the way he never seems rushed even though he always leaves at exactly 8:05.

so, you start following him.

just a little. just… casually.

after your shift, you wander the same streets you know he walks down, trailing behind just far enough to not be suspicious.

for the most part, he’s normal. he walks, sometimes stopping for a cigarette, sometimes adjusting his tie in a store window reflection.

then there’s the other thing.

the games.

on the subway, in the parks, outside convenience stores...he’s always talking to someone, always pulling out those strange little red and blue paper cards, always making people hesitate before shaking his hand.

it’s weird. really weird.

your crush is stronger than your common sense. so you choose to believe it’s normal.

what you don’t know is that he knows.

he knew the second time he caught your reflection in a train window. the third time, when you hid behind a newspaper stand, thinking you were clever.

the fourth time, when you actually tripped trying to follow him across a street.

he’s been followed before. he’s been hunted before by gi hun.

this?

this is something new.

it amuses him.

so one evening, as you’re trailing a comfortable distance behind, watching as he steps into yet another subway station, you don’t notice him disappear from your line of sight.

until—

"you know," his voice suddenly purrs beside your ear, "if you wanted to spend time with me, you could’ve just asked."

you freeze.

your breath catches as you whirl around, only to find him right there. closer than he’s ever been, his sharp eyes flickering with something far more knowing than the polite indifference you’re used to.

shit.

"i—" you swallow hard.

"uh. i wasn’t—"

"following me?" he offers smoothly.

"…no?"

he smiles. it’s not a comforting smile.

"hm." he steps back, straightening his tie as if this is all just a casual encounter, as if he is the one who ran into you.

"then tell me, why has the local café’s barista been showing up at every subway station i visit?"

your ears burn.

"coincidence?" you try, weakly.

"mm." he tilts his head slightly.

"do you think i’m an idiot?"

"no! no, of course not, you’re actually—" you stop yourself before you say insanely attractive.

"uh, really smart. obviously. i just—"

he waits.

you deflate.

"fine," you mutter.

"maybe i was curious. you’re weird, okay? i mean, what do you even do? you just… walk around all day playing games with strangers?"

the man's smile doesn’t fade. if anything, it deepens.

"i recruit people," he says, simply.

you blink.

"for what?"

he steps closer again, and this time, when he looks at you, really looks at you, it sends a strange thrill down your spine.

"you ask too many questions," he murmurs.

your lips part, a protest ready on your tongue, but he reaches into his pocket, slowly, deliberately, and pulls out one of those little red and blue cards.

"tell me," he says, flipping it between his fingers with an ease that makes your stomach flip.

"do you like playing games?"

however, you are not going to be playing the games that other people usually do.

the man took you across town, and suddenly you're in a old hotel room, completely naked and handcuffed as he stands over you so casually, still dressed.

you passed out, somewhere in between getting in the taxi with the man and being here, but at least you woke up.

“you know, i had my eye on you for a while, y/n l/n.” he first said. he stood above you, looking you in the eye as if your whole body wasn’t on display for his arousal. you couldn’t speak as he reached over, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“y-yo-you did?” you asked, your face showing shock but your eyes showing admiration for the very unusual man.

“yes, of course i did. i told you about my organization, and you were going to be someone that we were gonna recruit eventually.. well if—” he chuckled as he stopped talking. 

“if what?” you asked.

“i can tell you that later,” the man, still dressed fully in his nice suit, leaned in on top of your body. he started to roughly kiss you. your soft lips against his slightly chapped ones. 

the man’s hands gripped your naked waist as you whimpered, moving you since your ropes couldn’t make you move on your own. he adjusted you so you were right underneath him. 

yes, maybe you should be questioning why one of your regulars at work made you pass out from something, took you to some hotel, and now has you naked and tied up. however, the scent of his spicy cologne made your mind wander into what happens next. plus his lips moving along your face and tracing couldn’t make you think straight.

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your jawline, his voice deep. 

“and here i was thinking that you couldn’t take my hints.” you whisper as the man kissed along your collarbone. you could feel something press up against your inner thigh.. maybe it was his belt on his suit? maybe his cock… even better!

“you made it obvious when you started offering free stuff, knowing damn well i could pay for it myself.” the recruiter moved his calloused hands to your left underboob, purposely teasing you by avoiding your nipple. you arched so you could silently tell him what you wanted. 

“how long have you been wanting this?” the salesman smirks. he looks up at you with a smirk before he blows lightly on your nipple, the little bud getting perky. your jaw dropped, the feeling all too good yet unfamiliar.

“for a while, sir.” you respond. 

“how long is a while?” the salesman teases as he fully traces your nipple with his tongue, his other hand satisfying your other boob. your little noises told him that you were loving this just as much as he does.  

“since you started coming in around three months ago..” 

the man took his time with your boobs, hoping to break you apart inch by inch. you already feel yourself soaked in-between your legs, your wetness hitting the sheets on the hotel bed.

you couldn’t help but arch into him when his head reached down in-between your thighs. the man took his rough pointer and middle finger, and spread your labia’s. he sees how truly wet you are. 

feeling kind of embarrassed, you moved your head so it was against your arm, the arm that is tied to the bed. “look at me, don’t you dare turn away from me,” he commanded, moving up and using his hand to cup your jaw.

you obeyed. 

“good girl.” he gave his nice smile that you were used to seeing every morning at 7:55am. 

suddenly, you squealed when you felt a pressure going into your wet core. the salesman’s two big fingers went inside of you while you used his thumb to satisfy your little clit. he sits on his knees on the hotel bed, still fully dressed while he watches the waves of pleasure rolling through you. the salesman is clearly experienced, his fingers curled inside you, thrusting and smoothing against that spongy spot that made your breath catch and your pussy throb so much more. 

you loudly moaned while looking into the man’s eyes, feeling overwhelmed by pleasure. you would not be surprised if he thought you were a desperate slut. you followed him outside of work, but yet, it's not like he was mentally sane either. 

he stared down at you and the moment so intimate. the man’s eyes locked on yours, two finger buried inside your pussy and a thumb rubbing your clit, giving you more pleasure your fingers could ever manage to. your pussy started clenching around his large and wet fingers (thanks to you). 

suddenly, that triple pulse around his fingers told him all he needed to know. he leaned over your body, his free hand grabbing your neck while his lips graze your ear. 

“i want you to cum around my fingers. do not fucking hold back. i want to see you fucking cum like the whore you are.”

the degradation pushed you over the edge, your orgasm going all over his hands and onto the bed. the man’s glowing skin among the warm hotel lamp turned you on much more. you were sensitive, but you were going to get some dick. 

again like earlier, his lips trailed down your neck softly again. 

he started unbuttoning his suit and you felt yourself getting excited. he knows you are too, he chuckled when you started getting wetter at the sight of him getting naked with you. 

he pressed a kiss on your clit before he fully pulled himself off, taking his suit off. 

“wait–” you said. 

the man looked at you after taking off his shirt, his muscles screaming at you to be kissed on. 

“yes, miss?” he smirked. 

“i want to take that off.” you motioned to his belt and his pants. 

“how if you’re tied to the bed?” the salesman nodded at the robes, finding the moment amusing. 

fuck, he’s right. 

you suffered while watching him unbuckle his belt before unzipping his pants. this is like unwrapping a christmas present of yours or something. you could tell that hes huge from the way that his bulge poked out from the freed zipper.

once he took off everything, its like your entire body started to water. your pussy started to clench onto nothing, your mouth watered, and you could feel your tears starting to prepare itself by the way that you question… how all of that.. will fit inside of you. 

you exhaled his hard cock moving closer to your center. the salesman’s thick tip started kissing along your clit and outside walls, making you whine in desperation. 

“from now on, who’s pussy is this?” the salesman asked, his cock tracing along your hole. you tried to push your body forward so he’d slip in, but the robes were too tight. 

“its yours, it will always be yours—” you whispered, almost saying his name before you realized that you didn;t even know his name.

gosh, you were about to fuck a man whos name that you didn’t even know of!

“yes it will,” he finally pushed into your walls. your moan sounded like it come from a porno by the way that his cock stretched your walls out.

“gosh, you’re so full of me.” he says, looking down at you as you watch his cock pumping in and out of you. he didn’t give you time to adjust, but luckily you were wet enough to handle his large dick. 

you tilted your head back onto the pillow, your eyes rolling back due to the amount of pleasure you’re feeling at once. the man’s rough fingers gripped onto your inner thighs painfully, hoping to leave marks. 

it seems like he already knows your body super well, as his fat tip keeps slamming against the sweet spot inside you and he turns his head so he can kiss along your ankle . 

“my little princess,” he said, looking down at your pussy wetting his cock entirely, “you’re being such a good little slut for me. such a pretty pussy.”

“i’m all yours.” you reassure, even though he already knows and will make sure of it. you reached down and gripped his strong hands that are gripped onto your thighs. your juices soaked his cock inside you as your eyes started to roll back from the pleasure again. 

you couldn’t even process what was happening before you squirted all over his cock, wetting his cock, his balls, and the bedsheets below you both. the man fully fucks you through your orgasm before releasing inside of you. 

afterwards, the salesman reached down and placed a soft kiss on the front of your shoulder before wrapping his hand around your neck to bring you closer. you guys started making out for a few minutes, your nake body below his. this felt intimate. 

the man’s cock never left your sensitive pussy, you still felt so full as you whimpered against the man’s lips. 

“we need to make an agreement, y/n.” he pulls out of your pussy, sitting up with his arms on both sides of your head. you look up at him, wondering what he meant as you were still coming down from your high. 

“huh?” you ask, your lust filled eyes looking up at his dark ones. 

“our agreement. i have a few terms i want you to follow if you want to be in financial comfort for the rest of your life.” the salesman says. 

you look up at the robs tied to the bed.

“can you untie me first?” 

the salesman nods, before reaching over and untying your hands. the robe marks on your wrists were bruised and present, but it's okay to you. 

“what are the agreements? can you at least tell me your name first?” 

the man shook his head,

“until you agree, i cannot tell you my name.” 

the man’s eyes linger on you. again, on your eyes and not your naked figure. he is calm but calculating, as if he’s already mapped out every thought running through your head after your sex. he reaches into his briefcase that is on the bed, and pulls out two red and blue cards. 

this time, he doesn't offer it to you like you’ve seen him do with other people. instead, he lets it fall to the ground like it doesn’t matter.

“see y/n, the thing with you is that you don’t have to play games,” he says smoothly, his voice low and deliberate.

you blink, still frozen in place, your pulse thrumming in your ears. 

“what?”

he looks over at you sitting on the bed, still naked. the confusion on your face is understandable. he turns over and still talks to you while putting his suit back on. 

“there’s another way that i can help you. one that doesn’t involve risks... or debts.”

your stomach twists. the word debts hits like a brick to the chest. you try to keep your face neutral, but you know he sees the flicker in your eyes…the panic, the shame.  

“i-i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie weakly.

the man smile sharpens, but there’s no warmth behind it. 

“don’t do that. i know about your debt, y/n.”

the sound of your name falling from his lips makes your skin prickle. you didn’t tell him your name once while working at the cafe. you are not required to wear nametags either, so how did he know? now you are more aware now that you aren’t fully high on lust. 

“i know exactly how much you owe,” he continued, calm and assured, “its 150 million won. i know that if you miss just one more payment, there will be loan sharks at your door. you’re what... a few thousand won away from losing everything?”

your throat tightens, heat rushing to your face. how does he know all of this?

he watches you squirm on the bed, soaking in the silence before he speaks again. 

“you work six days a week at that café, and it’s still not enough. i see you everyday working for extra shifts, tips, while still barely scraping by. you hand me my coffee with that smile, but your hands? they shake. from stress. from exhaustion.” he pauses. “from fear.”

you hate how accurate he is.  

“so here’s what i’m offering,” he says, voice soft but commanding, “quit your job. call your manager right now and marry me.”

you blink hard, thinking you must’ve misheard him. you crawl over to sit beside him on the hotel bed. he is halfway changed, only his pants are put back on as he fixes the wrinkles on his blazer.

“w-what?” your voice cracks.

“you heard me.” his face remains unreadable, not a trace of humor or sarcasm. 

“marry me. move into my home. i’ll take care of everything…your debts, your needs, your future. you’ll never have to experience financial discomfort ever again as my wife.”

“this... this is a joke, right? i know we had sex but–” you laugh nervously, but your chest tightens. he isn’t laughing.

“i don’t joke about offers like this,” he says, tone still maddeningly calm.

“but why?” you ask, your voice cracking again. 

“why would you want me?”

the man’s eyes flicker with something you can’t quite place. 

“you’re interesting,” he says simply. 

“different. i see the way you watch me in the mornings. how you try to flirt, how you wonder who i am. i like that curiosity. it’s rare for someone like you, for someone so beautiful.”

you swallow hard, your hands trembling now. this was insane. he is insane.

but... he was right about the debt.  

he was right about how close you were to losing everything.  

the idea of never having to worry again, never having to count coins or skip meals, and being with a sexy man like him with good sex… it feels like a lifeline.  

“i... i don’t even know you that well yet,” you whisper.

“you will,” he promises, taking another step forward, his presence overwhelming. 

“and i’ll make sure you’re taken care of. fully. you’ll never need to lift a finger again. i’ll get to do my work and you can just be comfortable and pretty.”

your heart pounds in your chest. the logical part of your brain screams at you to run, to say no, to escape this bizarre, twisted proposal.

the other part, the part that’s drowning in bills, in fear, in hopelessness, and in love… sees this for what it is.  

an escape.  

your escape.  

you swallow hard, your voice barely audible. 

“okay,”

the salesman's smile is slow, dangerous. there’s something almost... satisfied behind it. like he knew you’d say yes all along.

“i’ll marry you, i’ll quit my job and i’ll live with you.”

“good girl,” he murmurs. 

“you just made the choice that saved your life.”  

you shiver, unsure if that was a promise or a warning. maybe both.

“well, tell me sir… what is your name? since i should know what my husband's name is.” 

you swallow. 

he looks back at you with a nice smile, a smile with some warmth behind it. 

“it's gong yoo, my beautiful wife.”

part two here: 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑛

masterlist

[regressionschool]

You step through the front door, kicking off your shoes with a sigh. It’s been a long day, and all you want is to collapse onto the couch and forget about work for a while. But as you pass your roommate’s door, something catches your eye.

She’s lying on her bed, legs lazily bent at the knees, scrolling through her phone like it’s any other evening. The difference? She’s still in her regression school uniform—crisp white blouse, plaid skirt hiked up nd underneath it, unmistakable, the soft bulk of her nappy peeks out.

That’s new. Normally, the second she gets home, she ditches it—grumbling about the routine, eager to reclaim her independence. But today, she’s still wearing it.

At first, she fought it—every morning, every drop-off, every humiliating rule that came with it. But lately, you’ve noticed something shift. The resistance has faded. The routine has settled in.

You clear your throat. "Long day?"

She startles, twisting around halfway before realizing it's just you. Her cheeks turn pink, and her hands tug at the hem of her skirt, though it’s too late for that. She shifts, as if suddenly aware of the crinkling beneath her.

"Oh… yeah," she mumbles, rubbing the back of her neck. "I just got distracted. Was gonna, uh, change out of it in a minute."

You lean against the doorframe, arms crossed. "You sure about that?"

She gives a sheepish little laugh. "I mean… yeah. Just got caught up in stuff."

But she doesn’t move. Doesn’t reach for fresh clothes. The excuse rings hollow, and you can see it in her eyes—she’s not in a hurry. Maybe she even forgot, for real, but now that she’s aware of it, she still isn’t rushing.

"You’re getting used to it," you remark, watching her closely.

Her blush deepens. "No," she protests quickly. Too quickly. "It’s just… easier sometimes."

She doesn’t meet your gaze. You nod, not pushing further. "Right. Well, don’t let me stop you."

As you turn to leave, a thought flickers through your mind—one you’ve entertained more than once. She doesn’t know yet, of course. But soon, she won’t have a choice about whether she takes it off when she gets home. Soon, regression school won’t just be her daytime reality.

Because you were the one who tipped them off.

And by the time she finds out, it’ll be too late.

[sundrop-writes]

if Mike fell asleep with you...

Word Count: 750

Horror Characters Masterlist

Warnings: this is mostly pure fluff - Mike and the reader are in an established relationship, the reader's gender is not described in any way (the main pronouns used are you/yours), Mike calls the reader angel, the reader takes on a caregiver role for Abby, mostly just short and fluffy. This is set before the main events of the movie, when Mike is working as a security guard at the mall.

A/N: So, I've seen so many people in the tags going 'just let him sleep!!! that man is so exhausted!!' and saying that he's too tired to fuck in the way that people are writing fanfics about him. And as much as I love super horny fics, I do thought this up, because I agree - the man should be allowed to sleep. This is largely inspired by that scene in Grey's Anatomy where Meredith walked in and Owen was asleep on Cristina's chest while she was reading a book (I think it was when she was reading through Mer's mom's diaries?) - anyway. I love that scene so much because it shows how easily he sleeps around her because he's so comfortable around her. And that's why it deeply inspired this. Let him sleep.

...

Mike was exhausted when he came in the door. 

He heaved out a sigh as he closed the door behind him, toeing off his shoes - pure, stiff tiredness radiating through his whole body in the worst way. 

You knew that sound anywhere. 

“Long day?” You inquired gently from your position on the couch, lightly craning your neck to look at him. 

He shuffled further into the house in an almost zombie-like fashion, only giving you a solitary grunt in response. 

You felt kind of bad that he had been stuck at work late when you had been lucky enough to have a morning shift and been treated to a relaxing evening with Abby. She was a relatively easy kid to take care of, and generally fun to be around. 

And after you had put her to bed, you laid out on the couch, relaxing and reading a novel that your friend had recommended. Generally, you were having a nice evening. And it seemed that Mike was not. 

As you kept an eye on Mike, you folded over the page of your book to mark it and put it on the coffee table for later. 

“Dinner’s on the counter.” You told him. “I made lasagna. I can heat it up for you if you want.” 

You hated that before he started dating you, all he knew was freezer burnt crap - but you were slowly showing him how to cook, and a world of vegetables that didn't come in a can. 

Mike took off his jacket and the heavy belt he had to wear for work (his large walkie talkie and his taser were in his locker at work, as mandated, but the thing was still damn uncomfortable) and he hung them both up. 

He didn’t respond to your queries about dinner as he walked around the couch. Instead of speaking, seeing you laying there so relaxed - the sight was all too inviting, and he eased himself to lay on top of you in a form of very natural intimacy before he grunted a few words into your neck. 

“Did Abby eat?” He asked softly as he laid on top of you. 

It was oddly comforting to have the bulk of his weight on top of you, especially as he melted against you, letting out a small moan as the tension melted out of his bones. He adjusted himself to get more comfortable and his face rested against the softness of your chest - you glanced down to see that his eyes were drifting closed. 

“She ate two platefuls, and had some peas.” You assured him. “Did her homework, had a bath, and she practiced her spelling words before she went to bed.” 

Mike grunted again - a more positive pitch to this one. He couldn't ask for anyone better than you. Sometimes he worried about her - all the time. But when Abby was with you, that worry lessened a lot. 

“You’re an angel.” He hummed against your chest. “I don’t-” He let out a gentle yawn. “I don’t know how I got so lucky with you.” 

“You look hot in a uniform and my job at the bookstore gets boring.” You replied, half-joking about the circumstances of how your relationship with Mike had formed. 

You reached out to him and began running your fingers through his hair, soothing him even further into the realm of sleep with the comforting touch. 

He let out another tired moan in reply - something that almost stretched into a rolling sound with the gentle pleasure of your hand in his hair. With the way his body was so slack against yours, his breathing even and quiet, you knew this was only leading one place. 

“You wanna go get ready for bed?” You asked gently. 

“In a minute.” He answered softly, barely parting his lips to get the words out. 

You glanced over to the table and reached out, picking your book back up as his breathing deepened and his body went even more slack. You were preparing to get comfortable for the next few hours. You weren’t all that tired yourself, and you still had a few chapters left to go. When you got to the next chapter, he began to snore lightly and you felt drool dripping down your neck - which didn’t bother you all that much. You found it cute, in fact. 

You were comforted by the fact that he relaxed enough around you to get such a good sleep. You knew that he needed it. 

...

A/N: also, this is my first time posting a fic completely from mobile by copy/pasting something from google docs on my phone. So hopefully the formatting isn't too messed up and hopefully this goes well! And I hope you guys enjoy this short fluffy fic 💖

[samiyatex]

Wholesale Second-Hand Clothes and Shoes – Your Trusted Supplier in the USA

Looking for second-hand clothes and shoes wholesale? Samiyatex is a leading supplier of used clothing exports and used shoes export, providing high-quality second-hand apparel and footwear for businesses worldwide. Whether you need bales of used clothing wholesale in Los Angeles or are looking for used shoes wholesale in Los Angeles, we offer reliable solutions for retailers, distributors, and exporters.

Buy Used Clothes Wholesale in Los Angeles

At Samiyatex, we specialize in providing top-quality used clothing in Los Angeles. Our vast inventory includes everything from casual wear to branded apparel, ensuring that our customers receive high-quality second-hand clothes for export. If you’re searching for used clothing exports or second-hand clothes exporters in the USA, we are your go-to source.

🔗 Explore our collection here: Samiyatex Used Clothing

Wholesale Used Shoes for Sale in the USA

For businesses looking to buy second-hand shoes in bulk, Samiyatex offers premium second-hand shoes wholesale in the USA. Our used shoes in bulk include a variety of styles, such as used sneakers bulk, formal shoes, and casual footwear. As a leading used shoes supplier, we ensure that all shoes are carefully sorted and graded for quality.

✔ Wholesale Used Shoes in California ✔ Grade A Used Shoes for Export ✔ Used Shoes Distributors & Suppliers

🔗 Check out our used shoes inventory: Wholesale Used Shoes

Vintage Clothing & Rag Houses in Los Angeles

If you're looking for rag houses in Los Angeles or vintage wholesale clothing in Los Angeles, Samiyatex provides high-quality vintage apparel and used fabrics for resale. We supply businesses with carefully sorted used and vintage clothing, perfect for thrift stores and resellers.

🔗 Read more on our blog: Used & Vintage Clothing

Used Shoes Wholesale & Supplier in the USA

As a trusted used shoes distributor, Samiyatex provides grade A used shoes for retailers and wholesalers. Whether you’re searching for used shoes wholesale USA or looking for a reliable used shoes supplier, we have the inventory to meet your needs.

🔗 Learn more on our blog: Used Shoes Wholesale & Suppliers

Why Choose Samiyatex?

✅ High-Quality Second-Hand Clothing & Shoes ✅ Competitive Wholesale Pricing ✅ Reliable Export Services ✅ Sustainable & Eco-Friendly Sourcing

For bulk orders or inquiries, visit Samiyatex and get the best deals on second-hand clothes and shoes wholesale today!

[hog-choker]

i’m almost positive it’s impossible to find someone who dresses well and who you also wanna fuck. like i feel like all those cute well dressed couples you see on insta have to be manufactured. like made in a lab. and it’s like you always see cool well dressed people with actual style and shit and then their partner is just a polar opposite goblin style wearing old navy denim and on clouds running shoes like WTF where can you just find someone who also dresses well or at least knows what vintage is like curated shit not shit you found at a thrift bin like it doesn’t even have to be the same style just STYLE IN GENERAL like i hate it and while in his second phase, he will sometimes raise his sword up high to his side, appearing to empower himself. Dozens of large flaming skulls will then come raining down from the sky, with the bulk of them homing in on you. At this point use the Great-Serpent Hunt skill in order to stagger him and interrupt the casting, as it takes a good 3-4 seconds before going off. These skulls explode after a short delay upon reaching their target or impacting with the ground. Time your dodges or sprints properly to avoid damage. This phase persists for a long time and Rykard will continue with his regular moveset as the skulls rain down. If not killed after a while, he will end this phase by raising his sword up high with both hands, channeling the flames in the sky into the blade, culminating in a giant overhead cleave.

[shirajellyfish]

Sun wears a shirt btw (Freddy doesn't)

I've seen so many people say Sun is shirtless. Valid interpretation, I love you, but also wanted to throw in my 2 half joking cents on why I see him as wearing a shirt. (Actually more like 2 dollars, because I'm incapable of being brief when taking about my favorite guy)

Animatronics often use paint to imply clothing. No one would look at Toy Chica, for example, and say she's totally naked down there with just an unclothed neon pink pelvis. And Sun's paint does imply a shirt. His chest is split into two colors, with buttons on one side and everything. It's a little more unclear what's going on on his arms (is that supposed to be... elbow length sleeves and fingerless gloves? That can't be right), but those are definitely buttons like you would find on clothing. The paint is trying to imply that he has at least something to wear.

You might say that Sun is in fact shirtless because he's wearing real actual cloth pants, so the paint doesn't count. But! I activate my trap card! Toy Chica has a cloth bib! Looking carefully at fnaf 2 screenshots, the bib does not use the plastic texture or the shiny plastic lighting. That's a CLOTH bib on toy Chica, but the paint still implies her little pink bikini bottom or shorts or whatever all the same. So the existence of cloth pants on Sun doesn't invalidate the painted shirt.

Why exactly did they combine cloth and paint on the daycare attendant? Probably because he is a jester. Those jester pants would be completely impossible to make out of hard plastic. While they're clearly not concerned with softness judging by the cage-like metal frame under the pants, a solid hard material just wouldn't work. Either they'd be unable to stand straight due to the bulk, or the pants would have to be flat on the inner side. Like this

So cloth pants were pretty much mandatory to make jester characters with jester pants work. Similarly, hard plastic ribbons would be a terrible idea (imagine Sun with two perfectly straight red sticks molded to his arms), and it would be hard to keep up suspension of disbelief with a plastic hat for Moon (where would it go when he was Sun?), so those elements all have to be cloth. But for everything else the Pizzaplex can cheap out on it and paint on the clothing like they do for other animatronics.

Not being shirtless actually make Sun and Moon potentially the most clothed animatronics at the Pizzaplex. Just for fun, here's a list of animatronics from most to least clothed:

Sun and Moon. They wear shirts, pants, shoes, sometimes even a hat.

STAFF bots. It's a little ambiguous how much exactly they're meant to be wearing, but the shirt is there for sure, and you could see the 'legs' as a sort of dress or apron shape if you squint. (Theoretically they could rank higher than Sun and Moon, but that would depend on how much they have in the way of sleeves. Too ambiguous on both to rate properly.)

Glamrock Bonnie. His entire body and legs are covered, plus fingerless gloves, leaving only his arms and feet uncovered.

Glamrock Chica. Similar to Bonnie but with a gap that shows the upper half of her legs.

Roxy has her stomach uncovered. She also has arm warmers where the others didn't, but I don't think a slightly covered lower arm beats her upper legs and stomach being unclothed.

Monty is completely shirtless. He has pants and some shoulder pads not connected to anything at all, but his chest is completely bare.

DJ music man is NAKED. He is naked! His gloves are a different texture than his face, but his face and body are the same. That means this man is wearing NOTHING but gloves, headphones, and a hat. You could also argue either for or against his arms being covered, but regardless- This entire spider's body is completely naked and we didn't even notice.

FREDDY is in fact the most naked of all the Pizzaplex animatronics. He wears ONLY accessories. Hat, shoulder pads connected to nothing, bow tie, leg warmers on the lower half of the legs. He has NO shirt, NO shoes, not even underpants! People are going on about Sun having a bare chest despite his paint implying otherwise, but here is Freddy just completely naked. If you did a human AU with accurate clothing you'd need censor bars for Freddy.

So in short, I think it would be absolutely hilarious if someone wrote a fic where Freddy was a nudist. All the other animatronics look away when he enters the room, and none of the humans can figure out why.

No, this was not a serious post haha

But it is true that Freddy is naked.

[yasmindifference]

8 (my birthday is the 8!)

The night is unseasonably warm, barely even cool enough for long sleeves. As such, the suit jacket Jason drapes around Tim's shoulders five minutes into their walk nearly makes him roll his eyes.

He channels his reaction into a girlish giggle instead, then has to swallow a more sincere laugh when he sees how the high-pitched sound nearly cracks Jason's mask.

"You're soooo chivalrous," Tim says, unable to resist pushing that little bit further. His Valley girl impersonation puts a twitch in Jason's eye every time. "Like, swoon."

Jason wraps an arm around Tim's waist--probably solely to disguise the sharp pinch he delivers to Tim's side--and smiles down at him.

"You deserve it, baby," he says, in the same smarmy tone he's been using all night.

It makes Tim want to punch him, a reaction he's sure Jason's eliciting on purpose--after all, he's been doing the same thing with his own Valley girl impersonation.

...It's possible he and Jason aren't taking this mission as seriously as they should be.

Oh well.

In retaliation for the pinch, Tim fakes a stumble over a crack in the sidewalk and drives his elbow into Jason's gut, earning a faint oof he wants to smile over.

Instead, he puts his hands to his face in exaggerated dismay.

"Oh, I'm so clumsy," he says mournfully. "It's so embarrassing..."

Jason brushes his hair (or rather, his wig) out of his face and twists his ear painfully in the process; Tim applies his stiletto heel to the toe of Jason's left shoe.

"You're not clumsy, baby, it's just those shoes," Jason says, voice a little tight--with pain or annoyance? Tim can't tell. "You want me to go get the car?"

"No, no," Tim says, "it's such a nice night--just look at those stars!"

He tips his head back and gazes dreamily at the sky which, being in Gotham, shows not a single star.

"They're so beautiful," he says happily.

"Not as beautiful as you," Jason says, with such smarmy passion that Tim barely remembers to hide the laugh he can't help behind a cough.

"Oh, pookie bear," he says--

--and finally, Jason breaks.

He lets go of Tim's waist to brace his hands against his knees as he cackles, choking out "fucking hell" and "pookie" as he struggles to catch his breath.

Tim just smiles and enjoys the victory.

"Okay," Jason says once he catches his breath, "holy shit, you win. How the fuck did you say that with a straight face?"

"Practice," Tim says dryly. "You play the tough guy too often. You should branch out more, broaden your range. Then you won't be so easy to shake."

Jason gives him a flat look and, straightening to his full height, spreads his arms in a silent invitation to look at him. Admittedly, Jason's height and bulk do make him less than ideal for the kinds of covers Tim prefers.

Tim was bullshitting anyway--Jason might default to tough guy, but he's entirely capable of more versatile covers. And he really wasn't that easy to shake; Tim was kind of expecting to break him when he showed up in a dress, stilettos, and wig without warning. Instead, he lasted all through dinner and a ways into their walk.

"Okay, you lasted a lot longer than I expected," he admits.

Jason smirks. "Admit it, I almost got you at dinner."

It's true that Tim came extremely close to breaking when Jason spoke over and ordered for him at the restaurant. Tim actually didn't get to say a single word to their waitress--not even thank you.

"You almost got a plate dumped in your lap," he corrects. Now that they've given up the covers, he shrugs out of Jason's jacket and hands it back. "I could see Ashley thinking about it every time you cut me off."

"Yeah, that was a close one," Jason agrees. "I doubled my usual tip in thanks for her restraint."

Tim nods in approval. "But yeah, admittedly I was not expecting you to go the--"

"Hello?" Dick's voice breaks in, thick with annoyance and a little too loud over the comms. "Did you guys forget that you have a job to do? This does not sound like an undercover conversation!"

Tim and Jason trade eyerolls.

"Good catch, Dickiebird," Jason says. "We are not in fact undercover."

"Excuse me?"

"Dick," Tim says with extreme patience, "Damian is a trained vigilante. He absolutely does not need us as backup on his first date."

Dick gasps in offense. "We agreed--"

"No, we agreed," Jason corrects.

"Yeah, we agreed your mother-henning was out of control," Tim says. "We tipped off Damian last night so he could change his reservation."

"And got Babs to find something to distract you with so you couldn't come follow him yourself," Jason adds.

Dick splutters.

"Take a deep breath," Tim suggests.

"Chill the fuck out," is Jason's less gentle contribution. "Anyway, we're done for the night. You should call it, too--maybe work on remembering the kid is sixteen and not six."

"Harsh but fair," Tim agrees thoughtfully. "Night, Dick!"

Dick is still spluttering when Tim pulls out his comm.

"How much do I owe you for dinner?" he asks Jason.

Jason shrugs and slings his jacket over one shoulder. "Buy me ice cream, we'll call it even."

"Deal," Tim says.

Because he, unlike Damian, is no longer a teenager, he doesn't ask if going for ice cream constitutes a real date.

He can't stop himself from wondering, though.

Happy early birthday, anon!!! In celebration, this got very long lmao. Prompt #8 was two characters on a nighttime stroll! I hope you enjoyed! ♡♡

[bluecollarmcandtf]

M O O N L I G H T ™

Chapter III

It's late, and the last thing I expect to find at my nightly workout is my little bro, dressed up like a personal trainer. He looks ridiculous in that cheesy uniform, not to mention the light pouring out of his skull and the smile stamped into his face! I guess the little idiot signed up for Moonlight™: that was one helluva mistake!

"Good evening, sir," my brother speaks as if we hadn't grown up together, "Is there any way I can aid your fitness journey tonight?"

Hearing Ryan call me 'sir' brings a devious grin to my own face. I've bullied this kid for years, and now he's kissing my ass like well-trained puppy. Thanks to Moonlight™, my annoying little bro is just a mind controlled employee who doesn't realize his brother's here, let alone embarrassing him! I wish I could get my entire family implanted with these little Moonlight™ things. Messing with them would be hilarious!

"Oh yeah," I sneer, "And what's string bean gonna do for a guy like me?"

"Well, sir, as a personal trainer here at Planet Fitness, I'll gladly demonstrate how to use the machines, spot patrons with heavy-lifting, and return equipment when finished."

God, he sounds even more annoying than usual! "You really think a someone like you could spot me?" I scoff and bring my bicep to his face, flexing it inches away from his perpetually open eyes.

"Actually, sir, this body can lift 260 lbs on the bench press without injury. The load you have is well-enough below to ensure that I may be of service. Still sir, the weight you're lifting is a very respectable amount," Ryan's smile beamed at me, but mine fell.

"Whatever, I'll be fine," I retort, "Just stand over there and mop up my sweat when I'm done."

"Yes, sir."

My little brother takes a step back as I get ready to lift. As stupid as he looks, standing there waiting on me to finish, he also looks pretty fit. His company polo might be sweaty and gross, but it's tight against his improving physique. He's clearly been lifting a lot while he's been working here, but his gains should not count if Moonlight™ is the one actually working out that pathetic little body! The only way he could bulk up was by becoming a fucking puppet! Talk about sad!

"Fuck!" I grunt, tossing the barbell back as I finish. I did a few extra sets to prove a point and now my arms are on fire. "Towel!" I snap.

"Yes, sir," Ryan rushes over and wipes the sweat off my brow. I just laugh in his face.

"I think I got some sweat on my sneakers too," I jab, "You can wipe them off and then put twenty more pounds on the bar."

"Of course, sir."

My brother gets on his knees with the towel, giving my sneakers a cursory buff. I don't know what personal trainer has shoe-shining in his job description, but I've heard these Moonlight™ employees can be pretty pliant. Apparently, you can make them do quite a bit with the loopholes in their programming. Maybe I can get Ryan here to do something even more embarrassing than polishing his big bro's shoes!

The next week, I worked out every night.

Turns out, bullying my little bro was great motivation to go to the gym! When I saw him during the day, I never mentioned the fact that I knew; didn't want to scare him off. At night, I had every opportunity to take out my frustrations on him. If he pissed me off during the day, I could boss him around at the gym, ordering him to follow me around and wipe down every piece of equipment. I could call him whatever names I wanted and yell at him as loudly as I pleased; he had to just stand there with the best customer service smile and say "yes, sir."

Playing around with Ryan was fun, but it wasn't until I went out for a drink that I ran into my second brother. I guess he had the same idea to get hired with Moonlight™...

"Can I fix you a drink, sir?" my brother, the middle child, yells over the club's EDM.

"What the hell?" I shout, "Ryan's dumb enough to Moonlight™, but I didn't think you were!"

Sam just stares back with the same flashlight eyes and widely stretched lips. Of course his programming won't let him do anything outside of bartending! He's probably not even conscious in there! Ryan was always a bit of an impulsive twerp, so I wasn't surprised to see him Moonlighting™, but Sam is different. He'd said he'd never put his body to work at night. Something about the behavior of Moonlighters™ always rubbed him the wrong way...I guess he changed his mind.

"A round of beers," I tell him, warily gesturing to the back corner, "For me and our crew."

Sam's glowing stare looks over my shoulder and sees our friends, the guys we both hang out with, "Yes, sir. I'll have it right out for you."

I return to our pals, anxious for my brother to follow. Sam is only a year younger than myself, so we run around with the same crowd, yet he didn't recognize any of our buds. Now he's about to serve them like a fucking waiter. My catatonic brother is about to walk into the most humiliating situation of his life. I just get to sit back and watch!

"Sam?" one of them asks a moment later.

"Here are your beers, sir," my brother plucks the bottles off his tray and sets them out for each of his friends, completely oblivious to their stunned reactions, "Is there anything else I can get any of you?"

"Holy crap, dude!" another pal turns to me, "Since when did your brother start Moonlight? He looks like a total idiot!"

Sam doesn't seem to register the insult.

"I don't know man," I laugh, "Tonight, I guess."

"Fetch us some napkins," one guy quips with an amused flick of his hand.

"Right away, sir." Sam answers a little too promptly, and whisks away.

"Right away, sir, Ha!" the guy repeats with a mock salute, "We've gotta mess with him!"

Sam returns, obediently passing out napkins, but I'm finding it harder to meet his gaze while he's grinning so manically. This situation is starting to feel more awkward than hilarious. These guys will never let him live this down!

"Sam, get over here and give this paying customer a sloppy BJ!"

My brother stiffens, and for a second a jolt of fear runs down my spine, terrified that Moonlight™ will actually make him comply. Pranks are all good and fun, but I do not want to see my brother about to blow another dude!

"I apologize, sir," he finally resumes, "That is not part of my responsibilities as bartender."

Thank God.

"Then get something to clean this up," he laughs wildly, "You spilled my beer!" Our friend then pours half his drink on the crotch of his jeans, staring at Sam with the amused eyes of a drunk fool. This guy always gets weird after a few drinks. I don't know why we still bring him along. Normally, we just ignore him.

"Of course, sir," Sam answers attentively.

For the next ten minutes, I sit in silent horror as my brother returns with a rag, proceeding to get on his knees and wipe down another man's crotch with painful dedication. Of course, our friends are all howling with laughter at this point, taking video evidence that they can embarrass Sam with later.

It feels like a lifetime, but Sam finally stands up, "I hope I cleaned that up well enough for you, sir."

The guy feels at his wet jeans, saying, "I don't know if that's good enough, bitch."

"I'm sorry, sir, let me try ag-"

"No! It's my turn," someone else cuts in, pushing his way to the front, "You spilled some on my ass that needs cleaned up!"

The gang loses it, doubling over with laughter as Sam prepares to spend the next ten minutes wiping down another guy's ass, but I've had enough, "No! We're done here, thank you. Go close our tab," I bark.

"Yes, sir," Sam turns on his heel. His dumb obedience is more disturbing than entertaining at this point.

Our friends all give me a hard time for sending him away, but I'm not having it. Maybe I'm not drunk enough, but they're enjoying this a lot more than I am. At this point, I'm ready to call it a night and go home, so I say my goodbyes and head for the exit.

The walk home isn't a far one, but I pass a few notable places on the way: one being my dad's dark office building. Our old man has been working late nights there lately. In the dimly lit lobby, I recognize someone...

"Dad?" I gasp.

"Good evening, sir," my father says to me without any note of familiarity in his voice.

"Wait, you're moonlighting too?" it comes out as more of an accusation, but at this point I'm fed up with finding family members secretly working random mind-controlled night jobs.

"I am a security guard employed through the Moonlight™ corporation," his gravelly voice sounds foreign, delivering these programmed prompts, "If you'd like, sir, I can help you apply for a Moonlight™ position, and you can start making the most of your sleeping hours too!"

"Why the fuck did you think this was a good idea, dad?" I ask, knowing this stupid security guard persona isn't capable of answering.

"He didn't."

The voice of someone else in the room sends shivers down my spine. I whip around, and see a gangly, middle-aged man stepping forward.

"Jeff?"

"Hi, Jamie," my uncle says, sauntering up to his far taller brother and resting an arm on his shoulder. My dad's attentive posture doesn't waver. He just keeps on acting like the perfect sentry for the building and the perfect armrest for his brother.

"Do you mind telling me what's going on!?"

He sniffles and sighs like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar, "Yes, I suppose this charade of mine was doomed to be found out sooner or later. I put your father in the Moonlight™ database. He was just wasting his sleeping hours at home in his bed, and he'd always refuse to let me sign him up, so I did it in secret. He makes a great guard. Right Tom?"

Uncle Jeff claps my dad on the back, prompting him to announce a proud, "Yes, sir!"

"See," my uncle turns back to me, "No harm done. Your old man gets paid to stand around in his sleep. Its harmless!"

"But he doesn't know!" I yell, seething at my uncle's sheer abuse of his place in the company, "This has to be illegal, and are you just pocketing Dad, Ryan, and Sam's salaries?"

He rolls his eyes, "I am right now, but the four of you don't even make that much."

"Did you just say the four of us?" I grunt.

"Oops," he holds a hand to his forehead and curses under his breath.

"AM I FUCKING MOONLIGHTING WHILE I SLEEP TOO?" I am screaming at this point, "You're fucked up!" I bark. Angrily, I stomp towards my uncle, but my father takes a firm step planting himself between me and the man. His steady palm is holding the baton at his belt, making me nervous. Is my dad about to beat me up for this creep?

"Excuse me, sir," my dad smiles at my uncle, "Would you like me to escort this man out of the building?"

"That won't be necessary," my uncle says, "I'll just trigger his Moonlight™ shift to start now. You can go back to standing in the corner"

"Yes, sir," my security guard father answers placidly, returning to his attentive stance.

"You wouldn't," I snarl.

"Oh, trust me, I will. As I understand it, overriding a subject's body while awake means you'll be fully conscious. I'll work on something to make you forget this whole incident later."

He presses a few buttons on an ipad, and suddenly my vision is engulfed in a purple haze. My back straightens, my muscles relax, and I feel my face contorts into a giant smile. Suddenly, my entire body seems to be gone from my grasp, and I'm constrained to a tiny space in my head while something else takes over.

"Enjoy your shift," my uncle snickers with a glare.

"Thank you, sir. I will," I feel my voice pushed out of my throat with an excited tone that isn't mine. Before I know it, my legs are carrying me away from my uncle, leaving him with my father, to march down the dark street...

"Here's your order, sir," my voice has the trademarked Moonlight™ eagerness in it as I reach out the window and hand over the meal.

"Fuck off, sleep-freak!" the teen in the driver's seat flips me off, making his immature friends cackle as they speed off. I can't do anything but smile and watch as they weave away. They have no idea I'm actually conscious in here.

After being forced to leave my uncle, I found myself striding into a fast food restaurant through its backdoor. I could instantly tell the place wasnt anywhere I'd eat at because the dumpster smelled like soggy fries and old meat. The kitchen was a fluorescent-lit pit, with a thick feeling of oil hanging in the air. I could barely take in the surroundings before I was changing out of my clothes by some lockers. I was horrified that Moonlight™ was making me fucking strip, but before long my hands were pulling on new clothes: a uniform. The polo felt like it'd been sitting at the bottom of the locker since the last shift, drying in sweat, and the pants were sticky with something unidentifiable. I was mortified to be pulling on a fucking hairnet and apron, but I had no choice.

"Blondie's here early," a smoker's voice purred from behind me. I had a bad feeling he'd been standing there for a while, watching.

"Hello boss," my voice answers, apparently recognizing the overweight, unshaved creep, "I'm ready to start my shift, sir! Where am I needed today?"

I watched as the man licked his stubbly lips, his beady eyes crawling all over me. Without any shame, his sweaty palm groped the growing bulge in his khakis. He was obviously happy to see me, and he probably thought I couldn't actually see him! I guess, every fucking night that my uncle's made me work in my sleep, I've been under the supervision of THIS pervert!?

"Get to the fryer," his scratchy throat moaned, "You know I want you to get nice and sweaty for later."

"Yes, sir. I'll be sure to work up a sweat for you," I answer, confused and disturbed by my response. The cheer in my voice did not match the overwhelming gloom I felt when the man slapped my ass. His hand lingered on my rear for too long, but I couldn't even frown.

Since then, I've been boiling fries and flipping burgers. Every so often I have to hand an order out the window, but my heart races every time I do. Three orders ago, the customer threw their soda back at my coworker, he's a fairly average guy in his thirties, and he was dowsed in Coca-Cola. It didn't keep Moonlight™'s programming from working: he just kept manning the grill, smiling, eyes glowing, and hair dripping with cherry flavored juice.

"Ouch!" at least, that's what I want to say. The oil sizzles and pops, and a few drops of hot grease splatter onto my arm, but I don’t flinch. The control won’t let me.

Suddenly I feel someone leaning in behind me. My spine shivers as my manager says, "It's closing time, Blondie. I'll send everyone home so you and I can clean up like usual." He whispers it in my ear, with his flabby arms wrapped around me like we're fucking lovers! I wish I could vomit!

"Sounds good, boss," I find myself saying.

One by one, the manager dismisses each of my moonlighting coworkers. I can't help but feel jealous as they strip out of their uniforms by the door. It isn't just that they get to leave; they also have the luxury of not knowing what's going on. They're all asleep. I'd give anything to at least be unaware of whatever this fucking pervert is about to do!

My body is preoccupied with whatever shit needs to be done for closing, wiping down the tables, taking out the trash, and more.

"Mop time," the manager suddenly announces, holding the raggedy thing out expectantly.

"Yes, sir," my voice answers, and I drop what I'm doing to accept the mop. The crotch of his pants is unzipped, but my bodies already turned away from him, turning all my attention to swab the tiles floor.

"You're doing it wrong again, Blondie," he purrs slowly, "I'm gonna have to help you like usual."

"Thank you, sir," my voice sounds grateful, but I am anything but. The pervert presses his rotund body against my back and holds my muscular arms with his own chubby ones. I can feel his penis poking into me below his gut, but my body accepts his touch like he's just a boss helping out an employee.

I guess this asshole found a loophole in Moonlight™'s fucking programming. He's going to touch me all he wants under the guise of demonstrating the right way to mop.

The creep spends the next ten minutes guiding my arms back and forth. "Fuck, you're bubble butt feels even better than usual, Blondie," he breathes in my ear. If I had control of my muscles, he wouldn't stand a chance, but right now, they're putty in my boss's arms. Meanwhile, his waist gets busy dry humping his chode into my rear end. "I'm so glad a jock like you was dumb enough to try Moonlight!" he grunts, his tongue dangerously close to my ear. I can only thank God that he can't take my pants off! After several painful minutes of him spitting more disgusting comments onto my cheek, his arms drop mine and plant themselves on my chest. His hands sloppily grope my pecs and pinch my nipples. I've never felt more pathetic. The man makes one final exclamation, "FUUUCK!" and I can tell he has finally gotten off.

"Thanks for the help, boss," I find myself saying.

With heavy breaths, he staggers back. The sudden open air on my back makes me realize just how hot and sweaty that slob was, and I can feel the slimy remnants of his balls slipping down my back and legs.

"Good job as always, Blondie," he breathes heavily with satisfaction.

"Thank you, sir," I answer. My voice hasn't lost its awful chipper quality, and my face is still stuck in a smile like I hadn't just been taken advantage of.

"Finish mopping up, and then you can lock up and clock out," he winks as if we shared some inside joke. I hate that all he sees is my smile.

"Yes, sir," I answer, but the creep has already waddled out of the building and slammed the door shut.

The sudden silence is unbearable. It makes the monotonous task of mopping the sticky floors all the more unpleasant. What's worse is that I can't pause to wash the manager's cum off my back. It soaks into my pants as I work, trapped in my own body. At least I know why these pants are so sticky. Honestly, I hope Uncle Jeff will wipe my memory...

[krashlite]

Design concepts for Etho!

Design notes under the cut!

Animal: hare fox

FACE/HEAD

Long face!

Rectangle eyes, very round ears

Expressions are based off his eyebrows

Eyes aren’t that expressive except with surprise and pleading

BODY TYPE (not that you see it)

Lean! Mostly hard muscles

Emphasized joints, specifically his knees, ankles, and wrists

Larger torso compared to the rest of his body to mimic hares

Longer hands/feet to resemble hare feet

Reserved poses until he’s startled (at which point becomes more of a cartoon character).

Mostly uses his arms for posing

Movements are led by his hips

CLOTHES

Covered head to toe in layers, the only skin we see is the top of his face. He does this regardless of climate and arc

Outfit bulk makes his limbs look tiny and disguises visible muscles

NEVER shows his face. It’s always conveniently out of frame, even when his scarf/mask is down

ZIPPERS.

Mostly wears darker colors but green’s his main color (like camouflage)

Boots get more worn down in later seasons (he gave up and just wore socks in SL and got new shoes for WL, which I’ll draw later)

ADDITIONAL

He has albinism! So no pigment in his hair, skin, or eyes.

He used to wear two red contacts to mess with people, but lost one of them and never replaced it

Eyes jitter!!

+ the traditional sketches from figuring out his outfit/shapes

[eevees-hobbies]

Thinking about what it’s like to move into Haruka Sakura’s place. It’s so bare; if you didn’t know otherwise, you would assume no one lived there.

He’d give you permission to “do whatever” to the space, and you’d have full authority to decorate it however you wanted.

But it’s a space you share—how could you build a life with him but never see pieces of him in your own home?

You ask him if he'd prefer his shoes near the door to be accessed quickly or put away in the closet so guests don’t see them in the foyer.

You ask him what color couch he'd like and in what style. Loveseat? Sectional? Futons?

You ask him if he likes to use a washcloth or loofah when he bathes because you're ordering bathroom supplies in bulk soon.

He doesn't know how to answer any of it because no one has ever asked him these questions. Why should he pay attention to what he likes when no one has ever cared enough about him to ask?

Gradually, he’d start to become more comfortable with sharing his opinions when asked until he reached a point where he was telling you what he wanted unprompted.

“I don’t like that rug; let’s get a red one.”

So you decorate together, and it’s so fun because what does he mean he prefers spoons over forks? And what does he mean he wants the front door greeting mat that reads, "There is No Reason For You To Be Here."

When you two are finally done lugging the last furniture item into the apartment and collapsing on the love seat you picked together, Sakura pulls you into his arms and thanks you for loving him enough to care about what he likes and allowing him to not feel like a ghost in his own home.