#but part of that was me sewing the entire head by hand

[tj-crochets]

The finished goat! She does not yet have a dress, but the designer who made this pattern also has other patterns the same size and the clothes are interchangeable, so I’m considering alternate goat wardrobe options (I’m thinking maybe pants and a sweater, or a skirt and a poofy shirt?)

[loumauve]

Obligatory but no less meaningful honesty hour ask: what is one pretty cool thing that's happened today in your life?

I managed to remember the magic-circle start for the new crochet project (a dice bag for my cousin who has turned out to be a DnD nerd to my absolute delight) and figure out the amount of stitches I need to increase by in each new round.

which.. is all stuff I've known before, and done a bunch of times, it's just been over a year since I last seriously worked on anything crochet related, so getting back into it and figuring out some vague idea of a pattern that might work for a two-layer bag with scale stitches on the outside layer.

crochet in the round requires a forever-surprisingly high and tiring amount of math to figure out how many stitches you need for those and where to place them etc etc etc, so getting this right on my first attempt in a long while has been a real good feeling

[anantaru]

DAY 17 — VIRGINITY LOSS

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — neuvillette, heizou, wriothesley

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, first time, virgin! reader, taking your v card, soft & passionate, pussy drunk genshin men

𖧡 — NEUVILLETTE

neuvillette was always tender-hearted and caring with you— nonetheless, this specific night, he was burning up through his entire nervous system— only a minimal glance of your body was able to drag him into such brimming state with sweat spouting down his back while only inches away from feeling your skin on his hands— just the whisper of your soft words scurrying at the head of his sinful imaginations.

at the present moment in time, there were no thoughts other than doing this correctly, no focus other than the one centered on your angelic frame— a crucial need, as much as air and water, sewed up within the pain of anticipation simmering over his psyche.

you can feel how his fingers silently curve over the flesh of your thighs before he inches you closer to his bare body, "voice any discomfort to me—," he pauses before coughing out, barely breathing as his heart thuds hard against his chest from how tight your legs were wrapped around his hips, "—immediately."

you nod in compliance, and you rest your head against his broad shoulder before feeling neuvillette's complete weight shift, soon after caging you beneath him as he towers on top with a new perception prodding at your wet core, his cock gently resting between your silken pussy lips— it's unique to any other feeling you have ever experienced before and your thighs instantly clamp around his hips harder, your ragged breathing tottering over his neck and shoulder.

you try to relax yourself, letting your hips fall into the mattress before suddenly trembling at an increasing pressure on your cunt— you hear a whimper as neuvillette rests his forehead on yours, holding his gaze on your eyes, the force of the increasing press precise and cautious as your hole parts around the intrusion.

it seems to be everywhere, all at once trapping your body and you suddenly feel so hot inside, then cold, then hot again, the way it manifested so quickly in you like a spumming inferno that imprisoned your body before your mind floats in the air, above clouds— again, it's hot and cold, hot and cold, the pressure in your lower area penetrant and heavy, and you're becoming dizzy by just focusing on how his shaft was stretching you out as neuvillette fills your cunt to the hilt.

neuvillette notices an immediate reaction from his elevated senses, in the way a strong current of oversensitivity stung along his thick, sheathed shaft like a bee stinging their victims— nullifying his pace as his hips stutter before coming to a hold, reveling himself into the warm hug of a wet, gushing pussy enveloping him.

it's just too much right now, for the both of you— or how your body was beginning to smell just like him, your pussy shaping over his length and casted all around it— as if the both of you, had claimed each other entirely.

𖧡 — HEIZOU

"squeeze my hand if it's too much or uncomfortable,"

regardless of heizou's confident and soothing sentences towards you, before smirking down and giving you the feeling that he had it all figured out a long time ago— was in reality, a helpless attempt to hide his genuine panic deafening his inner spirit, and even though the detective believed he did a good job at concealing it from you, the way he'd awkwardly scrunch his brows together or stumble over his own words aired his self parading nervousness spotless for you to see.

despite that, it's a heavenly sight to have you splayed underneath him, bare and exposed— untouched, so hot that it has you clench around his waist as he first slips himself in, his cock immediately showering your warm walls with love. your heart was racing and so was his, yet it was impressive, his self control, slowly pushing in and out of your little hole and leaning his head down to plant a soft, tender kiss on your lips.

"you're so beautiful," heizou praises as you part your lips, "you're mine," and wait for heizou to slip his eager tongue deep into the warm cavern of your mouth, your mind lost in a swirl of senselessness by his gradually fastening thrusts and the mild pain accompanying them— yet such, didn't matter in this moment, because your thoughts travelled up the soul-deep river over emotions unlocking deep inside that bonded your bodies in a new sense of awareness.

𖧡 — WRIOTHESLEY

watching you smile filled wriothesley with a love he never thought he was capable of feeling— and it's warm, as he believed love should always be perceived as, with your bodies moving unitedly, ugh, archons, he was obsessed with this intoxicating feeling.

“f-fuck, fuck, princess, fuck," he stumbles over his wet trembles, his mouth parted and forehead bedding a film of sweat as wriothesley persistently grinds into your sensitivity, his voice raspier than usual and for once he wasn't cracking occasional jokes, instead he hold your gaze forevermore, groaning out a shaky heave as you mewl out from the deep-rooted press on your core— it's a little uncomfortable you won't lie, and wriothesley being above average wasn't aiding you in that particular battle.

despite that you welcome him completely, no matter the circumstances you keep your legs pressed around his thighs when he tirelessly embeds himself so far inside your cunt that you're nothing but a babbling mess, hardly capable to breathe nor voice your pleasure due to the lingering compression on your slit being penetrated for the first time by a large, thick length, so perfectly shaped and harboring a soft pink on the bulbous tip.

he didn't believe he'd ever become so devoted towards another human being and utterly revel inside pleasing you for the first time, through your body and your soul and ugh— that you wanted him to be your first and no one else, how such reason alone was growing the addiction inside of him, his hips grinding inside your warm hole as his lower abs constrict at the pleasure.

wriothesley licks into your mouth in desperation, and each moment he pulls his hips back only to slip inside again, it’s so much better and it seemed like there wasn't a chance for it to subside, the sensation was growing between both your bodies rubbing over each other, his hips twitching with the sudden thud of vibrations due to your creamy walls clamping down on him.

your soft frame squeezes underneath his rough one, hot walls and wet taste, your slit gripping him just the right way and swallowing him till overcrowded with his heavy length, stimulating the veins sloped over his shaft like you were made to do this with him and only him.

truly, there was no comparison to this, nothing would make him get bored of doing this with you.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[reiderwriter]

♡ Girls Just Wanna Have Fun ♡

Week 5 of my Playlist Series ♡

Summary: Spencer isn't used to clubs, but when duty calls, he's made to feel a little bit more welcome by a girl who seems to know him better than a stranger should.

Warnings: Smut 18+ Minors DNI!! Hotchner!Reader (Reader is Hotch's sister), semi-public sex (x2 oops), oral sex (m receiving), fingering, dry humping, hand job, cum play, dirty talk, degradation and name calling (slut only), use of daddy/sir even though this is like solidly season 1 Spencer lmao, corruption kink, loss of virginity (surprisingly the readers)

A/N: Every single intrusive thought I've ever had about s1 Reid tied up in a nice little bow masquerading as a song fic. It is finished, and now I feel flushed. Please expect only fluff from me until my next intrusive thought (maybe half an hour, probably no longer).

Masterlist || Spotify Playlist

Flashing lights and the scent of dried up alcohol stains weren't usually signs of Spencer Reid's presence. He'd managed to get through college - two degrees and three PhDs - without stepping foot into a nightclub. But now that he'd joined the BAU, it seemed to be an unavoidable occurrence. 

“The unsub hunts at this nightclub, I get that, I do. But why am I the one going in? He's targeting women,” he panicked as his older team member helped adjust his clothes to conceal the weapon he carried. 

“Because, pretty boy, it's student night, and you're the only one here who can pass for a 21 year old. I guess late puberty has some benefits.” Derek smacked his arm playfully, leaving the younger man wincing slightly. 

“But I'm not a woman.” 

“Yes, but you'll be able to walk around and note any suspicious behaviour, and then we can tail suspects you flag,” Hotch explained to him again. 

“Just act natural, kid, it's not like it's your first time in a club.” 

“It is.” His warnings fell on deaf ears though, as they pushed him out of the van and into the crowd of students queueing to enter. 

It didn't take you long to notice him after you arrived at the club.

The sweater vest was enough to make him stand apart slightly, as much as he was trying his best to blend in. A slight tingle of familiarity raced up your spine as his eyes awkwardly met yours, his scan of the room stopping short as he flushed and turned his eyes down. 

Pushing slightly to the crowd, you leaned over the counter next to him and tried to get the bartenders attention. It was loud and busy, but catching attention and keeping it was a skill you'd mastered early, a skill that you were thankful for as you realised the man's eyes were guiltily flicking between your ass and the crowd once again. 

“Are you going to stare, or are you going to introduce yourself,” you giggled, sliding closer to his perch at the bar, as he panicked, standing straighter. 

“I wasn't, um… your dress, there's a rip at the edge of your skirt, I was trying to figure out if it was part of the design because I know some clothes these days have damage built into the design, or if it was in need of some emergency… sewing.” His hands gesticulating awkwardly throughout his explanation, as if anxious to show you the jumble in his brain was entirely pure and innocent, even as the flush on his face said otherwise. 

“And your name is?” 

“I-.... Spencer. My name is Spencer.” 

You stood a little straighter hearing the name, that familiarity warming you more. Spencer. Spencer. Spencer. You turned the name over in your head but took another step closer as the crowd shifted in a wave, feeling the heat coming off his body. 

“Well, Spencer,” your tongue made the decision to act for your brain, the words coming out before you could stop them. “What conclusion did you draw? Do you think the rip was intentional or not?” 

Gently, you grabbed his hand and led it to the fabric. The skirt wasn't scandalously short, but short enough to suit the dark heated atmosphere of the club at least, but as his fingers grazed the back of your thighs, still hesitant in his actions, you found yourself wishing it were just that bit higher, so his hands would have to reach further up. 

With a gaze over your shoulder at the crowd, Spencer found himself at an impass. He'd already noted a few people of interest, loiterers, men getting a bit rough and aggressive in the club, people on the outskirts (like him, he supposed) that could possibly be their unsub. 

He'd been given the all clear to disengage and leave the club as effortlessly as he could  bit something in your initial gaze had pinned him to place at the bar, and refused still to let him see reason. 

“I think it's a design feature. To draw attention to…” he swallowed hard, but you weren't sure if he was just being delicate about his words or if he was reacting to the hand that was now on him, dragging nails up from his abdomen to his chest. 

“Good observation, Spencer.” 

“Your name. You didn't tell me what your name was.” He said, grabbing your hand to stop its progress and breathing deeply as if to clear his head. 

“Y/N. We should dance.” Without giving him time to react, you abandoned your drink on the counter and pulled his arm around your waist, dragging him out to the crush of people in the middle of the dance floor. 

His protests were lost in the pulse of the music, as you kept your back to him and began grinding and swaying against him. His hands tightened on your hips as he gently started moving with you, and you threw your head back to catch his eye again. 

Spencer didn't know what he'd gotten himself into. He knew that very little actually dancing actually went on at a club, that this was just a more polite socially acceptable form of foreplay, but he didn't know that it would have such an effect on him. 

A mess of sweaty, intoxicated people spilling drinks and other fluids, and he thought he'd stay there forever if it kept your hips torturing his cock like that. 

When you glanced up at him, he was a man lost to his senses, lust clouding his eyes, mouth slightly open in a pant, you reached up to his neck and pulled his lips down to meet yours. 

You were surprised when it was his to guess to reach out first, his hand that trailed under your shirt without tours guiding it. You'd picked up a fairly innocent man at the bar and turned him into a pervert in the space of one dance. It felt like the club was watching you, how his hands grazed the skin under your breasts and caused the shiver up your spine, how your back arched to press deeper against his election. 

You may have tempted him into taking this risk, but he was the one gleefully nosediving into his fall from grace. 

“Spencer,” you whispered as he came up for air, lips resting at your ear. “I think we should get some fresh air.” 

Something in that seemed logical. It was colder outside. Maybe it would cool off whatever had lit him up like a pyre on the dance floor. Maybe the fresh air would clear his head. Or maybe just the open space would help him detangle his hands from you, would lead his thoughts away from burying himself deep in you. 

He would gladly take you outside, bid you farewell, and return to his job and his life. It was a solid exit for his first cover - who was going to question the young lovers leaving together. 

You had a feeling that the idea of outside would have Spencer pulling away from you, but you hadn't had your fill of fun just yet. 

So just as you led him onto the dancefloor, you kept a hand over his, around your waist, and you guided him out of the club, down the street a few paces, and into a darkened alleyway. 

“Y/N, we shouldn't be-” he tried to stutter out as you pulled him in for another kiss. His brain was trying to protest, but his hands were already back on your ass, pulling you up and closer to him. 

“What was that?” You said between kisses, his mouth launching an assault against each inch of your skin. 

He gasped for breath and pulled back, realising that he'd lifted and pinned you to the cold brick wall of the alley in his haste to feel you pressed against him. 

“Y/N… I don't want to take advantage of you, I'm not-” 

“I'm taking advantage of you, Spencer,” you said, nipping at his neck slowly raking your hands into his shoulders. “Am I allowed to do that? Can I take all of you, Spencer?” 

His eyes rolled back in his head as he let put a groan of pleasure, your lips sucking at the tender flesh of his nape. 

“I-I'm not a student, and-” 

“I know, but you are such a pretty boy that I decided I wanted to have some fun with you.” 

His resolve broke in half as you uttered your compliments, and his lips met yours in a moan as his hands pushed your skirt up around your waist. 

His finger trailed between your hips and his, using the wall to balance you as he pushed aside your panties and began slowly stroking your sex. 

Your hips pitched forward to press more of his slender fingers against you,  desperate to feel him stretch your cunt open first with one, then two, then however many he decided was good enough for you. 

Leaving one hand on his shoulder, you let one trail down his pants, stepping one foot down to allow you access to his zipper. 

He pauses Again for a second as you manage to get his pants open, your hand pulling his cock free from the constraint of his clothing. Spitting on your hand, you wrap around it firmly and slowly pump up and down, looking him directly in the eye as you watch the pleasure pour over him. 

His forehead rests against yours as he melts into your touch, so desperate, needing to cum so badly that he's willing to let it happen in this dark dirty alley. 

“Spencer, I want to have a lot of fun with you. Will you let me?” 

“Yes, fuck Y/N.” He nods, his hips rocking into your hand with each slow stroke you give him. 

“Spencer,” you say, rocking your hips forward and pushing your panties further to the side once again. “Spencer, please fuck me. Take my virginity, Spencer, please.” 

His mind whirled at the sentence, the pleas dropping from your lips. Virginity. You were a virgin. 

You'd had him cock stiff after three minutes of conversation  had pulled him into an alleyway and lost him in a fog of pleasure, and you were still innocent. Untouched. 

You wanted to have your fun with him. You'd chosen him. 

He couldn't articulate the lust that coated his tongue, so he simply pushed it into your mouth  grabbed his cock from your hands, lined himself up with your drippy cunt and pushed in with a single thrust. 

You gasped and let out a moan, not quite fully pleasurable. Your hands again found his shouldend, his back, but your nails were sharper this time, digging in further, almost piercing skin. 

“Fuck, Spencer, yes,” you said, breathing shakily as you slowly started moving around his cock. 

“Did it hurt?” 

“It doesn't hurt anymore. Now, please Spencer, fuck me and don't hold back. It's more fun that way.” 

He pulled your hips closer, moaning as you tightened around him. Pressing one hand against the wall and keeping another hand gripped so hard around your hip you knew it'd bruise, he began moving. 

He began slow, trying not to lose himself in the feel of your unused, tight hole. But with each small moan, each scratch against his back, he lost a little bit more of that control he was begging for. 

With his hands engaged, his brows furrowed I'm frustration that he couldn't stroke your bundle of nerves, he couldn't force you to cum on his cock as quickly as he wanted to. 

“Y/N, look at me.” You opened your eyes at the words, unaware that they'd closed tight as you emptied all other senses to just feel him. 

“Touch yourself. Right there, that's it,” he watched your fingers rub delicately against your skin, spoke little words of encouragement, and told you to increase your speed and pleasure. 

“That's it. That's it, now it's time for you to cum, Y/N. Cum on my cock, rub your little clit for me and cum around my big cock, Y/N.” 

“Shit… shit, shit, shit, Spencer, oh my god.” Your hands shook, and your hips twitched, and with a cry, you reached that high you'd been craving since you met his eyes earlier. 

He pulled out of you, slowly pulling you off the wall, as he held you up, letting your legs regain their strength. His cock was still hard, still coated in your arousal as he took care of you. 

You caught your breath fast, regained tour strength quicker as you noticed he didn't plan on getting himself off anymore. He let you have your fun with him and was happy to end it all there. 

You weren't. 

“Spencer,” you sang again, wrapping a hand once again around his erection as he tried to straighten out your now slightly more ripped skirt. “Spencer, it's more fun of we both cum. I want you to make a mess of my hand, can you do that for me?” 

You stroked his cock with a firmer grip than before, your arousal lubricating each stroke, his pre-cum mingling with it to aid you further. You suddenly wondered what he would taste like, but knew your legs would be too weak to do everything your heart desired today. 

There was always tomorrow. 

He leaned his weight back on the wall behind you, forcing you back as well as you pumped him quickly so desperate to hear him moan your name as he spilt his seed. 

“Y/N,” he moaned, and you were triumphant. His hips jerked once, then twice, then a third time, and he stilled, heaving breaths as he buried his head in your shoulder. 

He swallowed and regained his breath, and as he pulled away, you pulled your fingers to your lips and lapped up the final drops of cum that he left there. 

Most of it had his the wall, dripped to the floor, but you enjoyed these few drops and smiled brightly at him, pulling a handkerchief that you knew would be in his pocket out and cleaning the two of you up. 

He flushed again as he came back to his senses, especially as you attempted to put his clothed to rights, stepping back to replace his softening cock in his pants.

“Well,” you said after setting yourself to rights, “Thank you for the fun night, Spencer. See you tomorrow.” 

You skipped off quickly before he had a second to even process your words. 

The next day at the local precinct was a blur for Spencer as he tried to drag himself from the drug induced haze of meeting you. He'd stroked himself to completion two more times in bed after he returned to his motel room, reliving the sound of you begging him to take you, the words ‘pretty boy’ on your lips as you spread your legs. 

It'd taken his entire brain, or what was left of it, to not jump out of his skin every time Morgan had teased him with the words that morning.

“Now how did you like your first club experience, pretty boy? Did any college cuties throw themselves at you?” 

He spat up his coffee, choosing that moment to choke, and begging god for this to just be the end of Spencer Reid entirely. 

Because there was no way Morgan would actually believe that that was exactly what had happened. 

“Morgan, Gideon wants you in the interrogation room, and- wow, Spencer, you should change your shirt. What are you, 5? You can't drink coffee properly?” Elle said, chuckling slightly.

“I choked,” he frowned, but it fell on deaf ears as his teammates walked away quickly to get back to their jobs. 

He wished he could recover so quickly, even now the image of you having your fun with him the night before playing like a movie in his head. 

Looking down, he realised Elle was right, and he really did need to change his shirt. Hotch always had a few spare on hand, even for cases out of the office. He grabbed some tissues, dabbing against the mess of coffee on his shirt, suddenly thankful for lukewarm police precinct coffee, and started making his way towards Hotch. 

“Hey, Hotch-” he made it three steps before your voice cried out. 

“Ronnie!!” You shouted, throwing your hands around your elder brother as he caught you in a hug. 

“Y/N, we're at a police station. If you're going to come see me, you have to at least call me Aaron.” 

“And not take the chance to embarrass you in front of your peers and coworkers? Not a chance, Ronnie. Not a chance.” He chuckled fondly, brushing away his complaints quickly as he turned to introduce you to JJ first, then Elle and then the frozen statue that had replaced Spencer. 

“And, Y/N, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. Spencer, this is my sister, Y/N. She's a student at the university.” 

You held out your hand with a triumphant grin as Spencer stared in wide-eyed horror at the apparition in front of him. 

“Hello, Spencer. It's very nice to finally meet you. My brother has told me a lot about you, and I'm very excited to pick your brains.” 

The air seemed to explode around Spencer as each breath became deliriously hot, filling his lungs with fire. It was moments before he realised that he wasn't actually breathing at all, and the air was actually quite normal. 

Your hand remained out, ready to greet him, and to the surprise of his coworkers, he took it in his for a short shake. 

“Y/N. Hotch's sister, Y/N. Nice to meet you, Y/N Hotchner, Hotch's sister.” 

He could practically hear the audible sound of Elle and JJ smacking a hand against their faces in horror at his stupidly obvious reaction to the woman in front of him. If he wasn't careful, he'd be spouting confessions of desire soon, and knowing that Aaron Hotchner carried two guns on his person even now did nothing to calm his thoughts. 

“Okay, well, Y/N, I'm busy with some interrogations now, but I can drive you back to your apartment in half an hour if you're okay to wait with JJ?” 

“Are you busy, Spencer?” You asked instead, keeping her eyes locked on the man who still weakly shook her hand, unaware of when the right time to stop would be. 

“I was serious when I said I wanted to pick your brain, my brother said you had a PhD in Engineering and I'm struggling through a class right now that I need some guidance in if you can spare five minutes?” 

Spencer stared between Hotch and you, looking for the right answer to please present itself before he imploded right there. 

“Yes. PhD, I have a PhD. Three actually, but whose counting? Me. I just counted them. One of them is in mathematics, actually, so I guess I'm always counting.” He finally dropped your hand, and you gave him a wider smile that dropped his heart to his stomach. “I am free, unless you needed me for something else, Hotch?” 

His gaze was pleading, though he wasn't sure if he was begging for his life, five more minutes alone with you or the power to extricate himself from this situation entirely, but Hotch nodded his acceptance quickly and let you lead Spencer off to the small, empty visitors room at the opposite side of the precinct. 

You shut the door behind you when you walked in, leaning over to close the blinds as well before you turned back to Spencer. 

“Your shirt is wet. You should probably take it off,” you giggled as you trailed a hand up his arm once again. 

His hand grabbed yours before you could do any more damage to his tender nerves than you'd already managed that morning. 

“You knew the entire time? Who I was?” 

“I walked over because you seemed familiar, but I only figured it out when you said your name. My brother does talk about you a lot.”

“Hotch is going to kill me,” he said, slumping down into the chair behind him. “Y/N, your brother was outside the club. He could've seen us leave.” 

You climbed into his lap, and his eyes finally met yours again, his tongue stopping its hopeless tirade as you relaxed into his chest. 

“I have two older brothers, Spencer. Do you know how often they've been able to tell me what to do?” Your hands started down his shirt, making quick work of the buttons as he stared up, enthralled. 

“Not once have they been able to stop me from doing something I wanted.” 

He scoffed quickly, unable to help himself. Your hands gripped either side of his face and lifted his head to meet your gaze again. 

“And right now, Spencer, I really want you.” A roll of your hips was enough to have him hissing and grabbing your hips. You started steadily rocking into him, eyes still locked with his. 

“Y/N, please let's be sensible.” 

“I don't want to be sensible, I want to have fun. I want to suck your dick right here, and let you cum in my mouth. I want to scream your name and let everyone know who is giving me pleasure. Can't I do that, Spencer?” 

“No,” he groaned, his eyes screwed shut as you dry humped him, trying to get yourself off on his lap, his.cock rising with each of your quiet moans. 

“Spencer, please. I want your big, hard cock back inside me. Please, please, please. I'll be a good girl, I promise.” 

His eyes shot open in incredulity as he watched you use his body as you saw fit. 

“Good girls don't lose their virginities in alleyways, Y/N. Good girls don't throw themselves at their brothers' coworkers. Good girls listen when they're told no, and don't try to suck cock in public, like little sluts.” He spat each word at you, bit you enjoyed each insult he hurled your way, enjoyed the way his body recoiled as he finally called you a slut. 

He seemed slightly shocked by his anger himself, but you didn't seem to care. It took you only seconds after to push your lips against his again and have your hands on his cock once again, pulling him out of his pants as his hands explored you just as eagerly. 

“Yeah, Spencer, your little slut. I'm such a little slut for you, please fuck me.” 

He buried a hand in your hair, tipping your head back so his tongue could probe deeper, his other hand already under your shirt and teasing one nipple. You lifted your hips and sunk down onto his cock, neither of you stopping to think again about your actions as you began to rode him. 

“30 minutes, Y/N, by now we have 24 minutes and 17 seconds. Can you manage that, Y/N?” 

“Yes, sir.” You said, feeling his dick twitch as you rode him. “Oh did you like that? You liked me calling you, sir?” His hips pressed up again, his body answering more honestly than his tongue. 

“What else can I call you? Spencer… sir….daddy?” 

He broke away from his place buried in your neck to push the two of you down to the floor, the new angle had you gasping as a hand covered your mouth stifling any screams you could make before you made them. 

“Be quiet and cum on my cock, Y/N,” he whispered and picked up his pace, one hand gagging you while the other pulled painfully at your nipple, pinching it between two hands and using it to lift your entire chest so your body was arched toward him, letting him go deeper. 

“Yes, Daddy,” you whispered again, against his fingers, tempted to wrap your lips around one and suck it into your mouth. 

“Fuck, just call me Spencer, Y/N.” 

But you couldn't respond, suddenly overcome with the numbness of you orgasm washing over you as you bit back a choked cry. 

“That's it, good job, Y/N. You listen so well, good job.” He rubbed soothing circles into your chest as his hips slowed, working you through your orgasm as he withdrew once again. 

This time though, he didn't try to pull away and leave himself hard, but sat himself up, and lifted you once again too, putting slight pressure at the back of your head until you were on your knees and letting your head fall down, down, down as your lips wrapped around his wet cock. 

You took him in your mouth, and tasted the bitter, salty flavor of your illicit activities, lapping every last bit of your joint pleasure up as he pushed your hair up and down his cock. 

It didn't take long for his hips to press up into your mouth slightly harder than before, his hands holding you steady as he came down your throat. He held your head there for a minute two, as you tried your best to breathe and stay there, taking as much of his cum down your throat as you could. He pulled your head off him and you swallowed the rest, smiling brightly at him as you did so. 

“Thank you for the fun, Spencer,” You said again, grabbing your phone and checking the time. 

Standing up, you pulled your clothes back in place, pulling your skirt down and your panties up, smoothing out the tangles in your hair. 

“Let me go get you that spare shirt, Doctor Reid,” you said, opening the door. “I'm very grateful for your help with my class load, sir.” 

His head fell back into his hands as you closed the door, leaving him to wonder just what the hell he'd got himself in for. 

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

⛐ 𝟔𝟗 𝐌𝐏𝐇⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

synopsis: sfw+ nsfw headcannons for Racer Diluc!

tags: riding, car sex, creampie, clitplay, vulgar, explicit, spanking, dirty talk

a/n: repost/rewrite from first acc!

^ྀི racer!diluc who always sprints over to you after each event is over, bringing the winning medal to drape around your neck right after giving you the sweetest and warmest kiss. Even if he lost, he always won in the end if you were there in the crowd.

^ྀི racer!diluc who let you design his outfit. Every small patch is a little showpieces to him. If any happened to come off, he'd be sewing them back on as soon as he got the chance. Every event was an opportunity to show off your amazing work.

^ྀི racer!diluc who can't help but need you as his prize after a race. Even if he won, you're the thing he's after the most.

Driving home, impressing you every now with a few tricks while his hand is stationed on your thigh; his grip slightly tightening while the tires burn and create marks on the road. Thoughts of all the marks he'd put on you racing through his mind at each red light.

^ྀི racer!diluc who's obsessed with watching you ride him in the front seat. His hands grip the crease of skin between your hips and thighs, thumb resting inbetween as he helps you move up and down on his thick cock; head thrown back over the lowered headrest of his car, any sane person would never let such an expensive car get sullied. But Diluc was anything but sane right now, ravenous was a better word for it. Starved, feral, not many words could describe the sheer need he had for you in the moment.

"Fuck...you're so perfect..." He'd groan, the red strands of his hair fell perfectly around him, bangs sticking to his sweaty face as the length layed onto one of his shoulders. Perfect for grabbing while you pulled yourself towards him; cunt grinding against him as his cock pressed against be spongy part inside your walls, threatening to ruin the leather seats.

With a swift hand, he pulled the lever to the left of him and lowered the entire seat down, his hair now dangling off the seat while your tits did the same above his face; taking the opportunity to put your buds in his mouth.

"Diluc...shit..." You moan, fingers gripping onto his chest as he sucks, flicking his tongue on your nipples until they were even harder and more sensitive. He smirks against your skin, his hand now reaching up to palm your ass, giving it a rewarding smack that only made you jolt up and back down on his cock.

You feel it throbbing inside you, hips thrusting up to meet yours, the car rocking with each movement. You couldn't help but let out a loud moan, feeling the pleasure building up inside you. Diluc's lips move to yours, his hand finds its way to your neck, gripping it firmly as he whispers dirty words into your ear, telling you how good you're taking him, how he can feel your clit pulse against him, how much he wants to fuck his cum inside you til you're so full you can't speak.

He begins to thrust into you, his hand now moving down to rub your swollen clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge as he fucks up into you; desperately you try and ride into your orgasm.

"Just like that princess...you're almost there yeah? Come for me."

And then, with one final thrust, you both reach your climax, bodies shaking and moans escaping your lips. You collapse onto each other, breathless and satisfied.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[motorsportbarbie13]

Me? A Princess? SHUT. UP.

In which you become a princess for the night.

Warnings: Just a fluffy Halloween fic Pairing: Charles LeClerc X Girlfriend!Reader Word Count: 1k

Masterlist

If there was one thing you should have warned Charles about before you started dating, it would have been how much you were obsessed with Halloween. Ever since you were a little girl, you had been head over heels for the holiday, spending hours upon hours thinking about and then creating the perfect costume that year. You would never be caught dead in a mass market pre-made costume either. 

You got your love for the holiday from your mother, who had dressed you in homemade costumes every year since your first Halloween at six months old. It became a tradition from then on, first your mother always hand sewing your costumes until you were in your teens, when you finally took over the responsibility. Halloween had been the sole reason you had begged your grandmother to teach you how to sew: so you could take over the job of creating fabulous and intricate costumes when you were old enough. 

When you started dating Charles, you probably should have warned him that part of dating you during the month of October would include being roped into a couples costume. The first year you were together, Charles had gone as Lighting McQueen and you as Sally. The second year, you had convinced Charles to dress as Linguini from ‘Ratatouille’ while you had been Remy. But this year? This year you were absolutely tickled at the costume you had convinced Charles to do with you and couldn’t wait to debut it at the driver’s annual Halloween party ahead of the race in Brazil. 

“This may just be the best costume I’ve ever come up with.” You gush, looking at your reflection in the mirror as Charles came up behind you, rolling his eyes. 

“I look ridiculous.” He says, tugging at the shaggy wig you had somehow convinced him to wear. 

“You do not, now where is your keyboard?” 

Charles points to the bed in your hotel room where the blow up keyboard sits, ready to be slung around his neck. “What’s my name again?” 

You huff, adjusting the tiara that sits on the top of your head. “You’re Michael. How many times have we watched that movie since we started dating?” 

“I lost count after the 36th time.” Charles deadpans. 

Charles may be giving you a hard time, but just below his prickly exterior he’s secretly thrilled at this costume you’ve come up with. It’s easy for him: a pair of khakis, blue button up, tie and sport coat, backwards turned hat and pair of sunglasses. The only thing he could possibly complain about was the messy mop of a wig you insisted he wear but only because it was slightly itchy. The blowup keyboard that had M&M’s glued to the keys were a nice touch, he had to admit. 

“You’re such a liar, you love that movie and both sequels!” You swat at his arm, knowing that whatever couples costume idea you came up with, he would have gone along with no questions asked. 

Now it’s your boyfriend’s turn to roll his eyes. “You could have at least given me a real keyboard. I can play the piano, after all.” 

“If you’re going to complain all night, I’m leaving you here and have Franco be my bodyguard instead. I’m certain he’ll play along and that costume would be easy to put together.” You smirk, knowing how Charles feels about how…friendly the young Argentinian has been with all of the WAGs. 

Charles grabs you around the waist, hauling you to him. “Don’t you dare, mon amor.” He murmurs, lips a breath away from yours. 

“Then stop complaining and let’s go. Rebecca just sent me a text, her and Carlos are already downstairs.” You give Charles a kiss on the cheek, leaving behind a bright red kiss print, one that he doesn’t even bother wiping off. 

You grab the pair of wired headphones and tiny black sunglasses that complete your look and hustle out the door. George and Carmen had rented out the hotel’s entire restaurant tonight to throw their famous Halloween party, and had invited the entire grid along with most everyone from every garage on pit row. You knew it was going to get rowdy and you couldn’t wait. It was coming up on the end of a brutal triple header and these kinds of parties were always fun, but considering this was Halloween? You knew it was going to be one of your favorites of the entire year. 

Charles follows dutifully behind, blow up keyboard secured around his neck, as the two of you walk into the restaurant that night. There are a lot of people already there but it doesn’t take you long to find Kika and Pierre, who are dressed as Boo and Sully from Monster’s Inc. 

“Oh my God! Your Royal Highness!” Kika squeals when she sees you in your costume, sweeping into a low curtsey before throwing her arms around you. “You look so cute.” 

You laugh, hugging your friend back, pleased that she was able to recognize your costume without missing a beat. Behind you, Charles chuckles and pulls a few M&Ms out of his pocket, offering a few to Pierre who was dressed in a fuzzy blue and purple onesie. 

“The things we do for our women.” Pierre grouses, although just like Charles, Pierre would have dressed up as anything Kika had asked him to and the both of them knew it. 

The rest of the night is spent dancing, drinking, and taking a plethora of photos for social media. Everyone you encounter fawns over your costume and laughs when they realize who Charles is to your Princess. At the end of the night, you and Charles even take home the coveted ‘Best Costume’ award that has become somewhat of an infamous thing on the grid over the last few years. 

When the pair of you finally tumble into bed hours later, your feet throb from the stilettos but you have to admit, this was one of the best Halloween’s you’ve ever had. As you curl yourself into Charles, both of you almost instantly dropping off to sleep ahead of tomorrow’s busy media day, you can’t help but be thankful that you’ve somehow managed to become your own real life version of Princess Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo. 

Tag List: @anilovessadbooks, @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @charlesgirl16

[sideblogofthcentury]

Steve was flipping through a magazine on Eddie’s bed when the thought came to him.

He looked over at Eddie where he was sitting cross-legged on the floor playing around on his guitar. He’d been working out some part of a song while Steve half-listened. He said Steve “helped him think,” whatever that meant.

Steve had realized he didn’t know Eddie’s name. Or at least, what it was short for. He’d become quite close with the older boy since the spring, since he carried his lifeless body out of the upside down, since El closed the gate and burned Vecna and the entire second world to the ground.

Steve didn’t quite understand how he felt about Eddie yet. He knew he really liked him, felt drawn to him, enjoyed his presence, his personality, his appearance.

Okay so maybe Steve knew more than he was willing to admit to himself.

Eddie’s guitar made an unsatisfactory noise and Eddie shook his head, rubbed his forehead in frustration, and looked up at Steve. He smirked when he saw Steve already looking back, and raised an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

Steve rolled his eyes, letting the snark roll off his back. “Yeah, actually. I’ve been wondering something.”

Eddie raised both eyebrows this time. “Oh? I never pegged you as the curious type.”

“Alright, keep the sass to yourself, Munson.”

Eddie threw his head back and laughed, his curls falling behind his shoulders to expose his long neck.

Focus, Steve.

“What’s Eddie short for?”

Eddie’s light smile turned into a wolfish grin. “Trying to fill out the marriage license?”

Steve groaned and threw the magazine at Eddie, hitting him on the knee.

“Whoa whoa Steve, watch the baby.”

“See you’re clearly already married to that stupid guitar.”

Eddie gasped theatrically, folding himself around the guitar as if to protect it from harm. “He doesn’t mean that dear, you’re a very smart guitar.”

“Booooooo”

Eddie almost fell backwards with laughter. Steve couldn’t help but giggle a bit himself, charmed by Eddie being so proud of his own joke.

“Eddie.”

“Steve.”

“You avoided the question.”

Eddie chuckled, resting his forearms on the guitar. “Clever boy.”

Steve would be lying if he said his breath didn’t catch, if his heartbeat didn’t quicken, his entire body didn’t feel a bit warmer.

Yes, Steve would continue lying for today.

He shook his head. “Eddie. Just tell me. Is it embarrassing?”

Eddie smiled up at Steve, revealing nothing. “Absolutely not.”

“Then why won’t you tell me?”

“Now where is the mystery in that?”

Steve groaned again and fell back on the bed. “You’re so difficult. You know that?”

Eddie threw the magazine back at Steve. “I’ve been told a few times.”

—

Movie night at Steve’s, waiting for Robin to return with her popcorn:

“Edward?”

Eddie let out a sharp laugh. “No.”

—

Family Video, rewinding tapes while Eddie sewed a W.A.S.P. patch onto his new, non-blood-stained battle vest:

“Edison?”

Eddie recoiled. “What? Oh. No.”

—

Picking up the rugrats from Hellfire, leaning on Eddie’s van:

“Edmund?”

“Steve. Gross. No.”

—

Laying on the hood of Steve’s car at Lover’s Lake, stoned and looking up at the stars:

“Edwise?”

“What?”

“Edwise? Edwise Gamgee?”

Eddie cackled out into the night sky, echoes of his joy calling back at them from the trees. “Okay, who gave you access to Lord of the Rings?”

Steve shrugged. “I had to call in backup.”

Eddie rolled onto his side to face Steve, propping up his head on his hand. “You asked the kids what my name was?”

“Yeah.”

“And the best thing those little geniuses could come up with was goddamn Edwise Gamgee???”

Steve giggled. “They’re such nerds.”

“Absolute fucking losers, Harrington.”

They both laughed until they were out of breath, panting out steam in the fall Indiana night.

“No but seriously, Eddie? What is it?”

Eddie sighed, straining a smile as he stared up at the night sky. “It’s pretty fucking lame.”

“Lamer than Edwise Gamgee??”

That made Eddie giggle again. “No, I guess not.”

They sat in silence a moment, Steve patiently waiting, and Eddie gathering courage.

“It’s just Eddie.”

Steve turned to look at Eddie’s profile. He was beautiful in the cool near-darkness, the moon hitting his face at just the right angle to sharpen his features.

“Just Eddie?”

Eddie nodded. “Just Eddie. Nothing special or interesting or exciting. It’s just plain, boring old Eddie.”

Steve blinked.

Steve blinked again.

And before Steve knew it, he was taking Eddie’s hand in his own.

Eddie’s breath caught and he continued to look up at the sky, too afraid to meet Steve’s eyes.

“Eddie. I hate to break this to you, but I am pretty sure you are physically incapable of being boring.”

Eddie snickered and stopped himself.

“I mean it. You might be the craziest person I’ve ever met. You refuse to fit in to a box you’ve outgrown. You’re too goddamn stubborn to do what people expect of you. You stand up for yourself and people who need you. You’re kind and gentle with the people you love.”

Steve took Eddie’s cheek with the hand not holding his and turned Eddie to face him. “You are the most exciting, interesting, and special person I’ve ever met.”

And with that, Eddie had heard enough.

Eddie kissed Steve.

And Eddie did not stop kissing Steve until he was bent over him, knees straddling his waist and hands in his hair.

Steve gripped Eddie’s hips and pushed him back, pausing to catch his breath. Eddie panted above him and laughed down at him, his lips reddened and his eyes blown wide. He looked absolutely insane. Absolutely gorgeous.

“Hey Eds?”

“Yeah, Steve?”

“You never asked me what Steve was short for.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed. “What is Steve short for?”

Steve panted a light laugh. “It’s just Steve.”

Eddie paused.

And Eddie laughed.

And Eddie couldn’t stop laughing for a very long time.

—

The next year, Eddie signed a Valentine card “To: Just Steve.” and “Love: Just Eddie.”

—

That winter, Steve arranged restaurant reservations under the name of “Just Eddie”

—

The following summer, Eddie got down on one knee and asked “Just Steve” to marry him, and when Steve asked “What about the law?” Eddie said “it’s Just the law.”

—

The spring after, Steve read his vows in front of his entire chosen family. His voice faltered as he said “You’re Just Eddie the way the sun is Just a star. The way the moon is Just a rock. The way the earth is Just a planet. You are my home. You are where I belong.”

Three years after Steve carried Eddie out of the Upside Down, Eddie carried Steve across the threshold of their tiny apartment in Indianapolis.

[aureatchi]

⋆ ☽˚｡ 𓂃 ࣪˖ AND THAT DAY THAT WE’LL WATCH THE DEATH OF THE SUN . . . ft. FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY

⟢ PRÉCIS. restless at an hour far too late to be awake, you take a quest to the personal library lit only by warm-toned ambient lamps and candles. however, you are greeted by one who chastises you to rest, and despite his pretty face you remain stubborn. in turn, he takes up a mission on his own; one that he alone will always win: to coax you to sleep.

◞ OR fyodor knows time is limited. if only you realized this was his labyrintian way of saying au revoir for now.

ᡴꪫ a/n. it’s always his lap. been thinking about this scenario for awhile + re-inspired by the friends who played with my hair this week hehe. it makes me feel so sleepy. started to cope with ch113. :’) i hope this is decent ᡣ𐭩

ᡴꪫ info. fem!reader. fluff; sweetly suggestive in one part…and then hit with a train of angst; i warned u. soft fyodor. comfort/hurt ↻. religious imagery. it’s u trying to get him to sleep too. both poetic and shakespeare ramblings. bsd manga chapter 113 + s5 finale spoilers. russian may be incorrect. ﾉ wc. 3.1k+

“Is there anything you find more powerful than manipulation?” 

Seated on the armchair across from yours, the ravenette took a sip of tea from his mug before setting it down. A bantering parley had taken place in between you two, filled with giggles and smiles, but in a moment without thought, you had brought up a more serious topic. 

“Actually, yes,” he responded. 

“A woman’s intuition.” You didn’t miss how his gaze slightly lowered. “The woman’s gut feeling is superior. If a man were to try manipulating her, she would know. No matter how naïve she was, the body would give her a single signal that could unravel his entire disposition at the fingertips.” 

You discreetly smiled, looking down at the mug. You knew Fyodor was referring to his experience with you. At one point in time, he tried to finesse you in schemes of calamity. But in response, you ruined him—he would dare not admit out loud that you had forcefully taken whatever mess his heart was and sewed it back together with the strings of your own soul. You did so without ever realizing either. After so many years on this earth, even he did not know how to mend himself. 

Now, he could only look at you as being the single thing that didn’t go wrong in the wasteland of the world. The ravenette almost considered you not of the world—you were as divine as the angels, after all. Perhaps it was his excuse to add along another duty the Father had commissioned to him—Fyodor would assure your safety and happiness through the rest of time—even once he got his hands on that book. 

Because if not plans that surged through his mind, it was his most cherished memories of you. 

…

Even though the room wasn’t too hot and the bed wasn’t uncomfortable, you could not go to sleep. You had tried counting sheep in your head for hours, but you still ended up awake well past midnight and had enough sheep for dozens of herds. 

You turned over in annoyance before you finally sat up. You didn’t understand why you felt such unease—maybe you drank your coffee too late in the day. A bad decision at that. 

You tapped the other side of the bed for a final check. Empty. Fyodor was still up. You would visit him in the office later, but for now, you’d give him the privilege of being unbothered. You decided on another place to visit—somewhere that would calm you down so perhaps you could finally catch slumber. 

The personal library. 

It was the coziest place, especially during the late hours of the evening, where the lights were warm and dim, not too hard on the eyes. Where the shelves were packed with literature and knowledge permeated the room with its philosophy. Fyodor annotated everything—so most books were scribbled in almost illegible cursive Russian. You always told yourself if you didn’t start to learn his lingo, you would be locked away from the library’s secrets forever. 

You tiptoed down the hallway until you reached the door at the end. You were thinking of picking up one of William Shakespeare’s tragedies and reading until either you fell asleep or the sun rose. You prayed it wasn’t the latter—though restless, you were exhausted too. And you didn’t want to suffer the consequences the next day. 

However, you were surprised to see the door already narrowly open. The lights were on and the candles were lit, too—was Fyodor not in his office? He seldom worked anywhere else and would always go to you as soon as he finished. 

You peeked through the slight crack in the door. He was indeed there—your lover’s back turned towards you, capturing all his charming enigma. How the man carried himself with the poise and elegance of a white dove, despite starting wars among nations. His mouth spoke of divinity while he ravaged the harmony of life with his hands. It was fitting; Fyodor was a juxtaposition in himself—you knew this, and so did he. 

“You can come in.” A second of pure silence passed before you opened the door to step inside. Not even a single noise was made, and yet, he recognized your presence. 

Almost shyly, you shuffled towards him. You did not plan for Fyodor to catch you—you were still in between deciding whether going inside was worth his lecture. 

Because although the handsome workaholic stayed up until absurd hours of the night, he did not want you following his ways. 

You circled the lounging area until you were in front of him, who closed the journal he was writing in. 

“Lyubov, why are you still awake?” he asked. 

Usually, you only stayed up out of anticipation in waiting for his return—whether from a mission or just to the bed. You were so stubborn that Fyodor would actually halt his work for a few days after being gone for awhile to sleep with you so that he was sure you were resting properly.

It was different this time. He had been home for the whole month, and despite being in his office for the majority of this week, you didn’t have any problem with going to bed without him until now. 

You shrugged with a quiet, “I’m not sure.” You eyed the unfamiliar journal. “Are you still working?” 

“Sort of,” Fyodor replied. “Would you like some chamomile tea? That will help.” 

You shook your head. “What do you mean ‘sort of?’ Last time I checked, you were either working or not.” 

“It’s not any more important than addressing the current problem at hand,” he calmly dejected the topic, leaving you confused. 

“What’s the current problem?” 

“You’re awake. You shouldn’t be at this hour.” 

“Well, now that I’ve found you here, I don’t think I can return to bed unless you come with me.” You dramatically yawned before stepping closer to him.

“Let’s go sleep, Fedya.” You tried dragging him up by the arm, but he stayed sat on the armchair, much to your disdain. 

“I cannot, I’m not done yet,” Fyodor replied. As you froze, he took your hand in his and brought you to his lap. 

“However, you must sleep.” He let you shift so that you were comfortable. “You came here to read?” 

“Yeah,” you replied as he handed you a book. What a mind reader Fyodor was—you were presented with The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. It would be the perfect reread. 

“Why this play?” you tested. 

“The pile of books you never put back on the shelves over there shows you’ve been reading a lot of tragedies lately,” he nodded towards the stack of books you read this week. “I thought you’d probably be in the mood for one by none other than the master of catastrophe.

“Plus, it’s fitting for you, too,” he added, voice a bit lower as he fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. “You’re so dramatic.” 

“Hey!” You pouted, moving away from him, pretending you were insulted. Though you knew too that further proved his point. 

“Maybe we should act it out,” you joked as you scanned through the pages to find a poem you were familiar with. “Act two, scene two.” 

“Hamlet’s letter to Ophelia,” Fyodor recalled. 

“Doubt thou the stars are fire;

“doubt that the sun doth move; 

“doubt truth to be a liar; 

“but never doubt I love.” 

“Dlya neye, v iskrennosti,” you squinted, reading the little note by the quote you did not understand. The Russian laughed at your terrible pronunciation. 

“Some scholars say that Hamlet used his words toward Ophelia as a manipulation tactic,” he stated. “He had a larger strategy at hand, and he rarely mentioned her unless she was on stage, with the exception of her death. If he harbored such a profound love for her, would Shakespeare not make it more direct? What do you think?” 

You contemplated for a few seconds, eyes drifting amongst the shelves of books as you felt your lover behind you gently run his fingers through your hair. 

“I think Shakespeare didn’t give us clarity for a reason. I’d like to believe Hamlet did love Ophelia. The story does not revolve around romance, after all—it revolves around revenge. A man with ambitious plans would not have love at the forefront of his head. Or, he wouldn’t speak aloud about it, at the least. Perhaps he was more reserved about that aspect of his life, too—he could’ve been shy to speak about it in front of all aristocracy—like you, for example.”

You giggled with a shrug, expressing your last phrase as lighthearted, but you still earned a slight frown from him. It was amusing that the nationwide terrorist was timid in everything concerning his love life. 

“Obviously, it could be taken as manipulation, too,” you continued. “But again, it’s not stated upfront for a reason. Shakespeare mirrors the complexities of a person in real life. You never quite know the truth of other people, no matter how much you think you know them.” 

Fyodor nodded, satisfied with your interpretation. “I wholly agree. It is why Shakespeare is enticing to many—he creates characters that simulate life’s universal themes and relatable human emotions when reacting to those situations. I only disagree with one point you made.” 

“Which one? You being shy?” you asked. He shook his head with a smile. 

“Perhaps I will reward you with that knowledge if you sleep.” He chuckled when you groaned in disappointment. 

“How about you just do your work while I read? Then, when you finish, we can leave together.” 

“If it were that easy. You’re a distraction, milaya.” 

You rolled your eyes. “No, I promise! I originally came here to read anyway—I won’t distract you this time.” You moved to one side of Fyodor’s lap so he would have space to do what he wanted. 

He did not answer you, instead making a quiet “tsk” when his fingers caught on a tangle in your hair. Fyodor worked to gently separate the knot. The terrorist was a perfectionist, but the mindset further stemmed past reaching twisted goals to create a world without flaws. Three spoons of jam in his tea, faint scratches on a deck of cards, and ensuring he had the satisfaction of reaching the ends of your hair with his fingertips were a few details he keenly paid mind to. 

You took his silence as a comply, and started to play out the tragedy of the Danish prince in your head while your lover brushed through your locks. Eventually, he picked his journal back up and continued to write information you paid no mind to.

…

You did not know how much time passed before you felt your eyes grow heavy. The faint ticks of the clock on the wall combined with the warm candlelight’s glow drew you to slumber. You closed Hamlet and shifted positions until you ended up straddling Fyodor. You buried your face in the crook of his neck until you could see nothing but dark. 

“Sonnyy?” 

He started stroking his fingers through your hair again, relaxing you even more. 

“Lublu tebya, kak angel boga, kak roso lyubit solovey. S toboy vremya ostanavlivaetsya, yi ya zhivu lish mgnoveniam ryadom s toboy.” 

However, the sounds of seconds passing by and intimate lighting adorning the room could not compare to the persuasion of your lover’s voice in his mother tongue. Foreign words spilled from his lips as rich as velvet, as soothing as a lullaby. If his voice, in general could put you in a trance, here he harbored the garden serpent’s master of temptation itself. Even if you did not understand him. Worst of all, he knew this. You had fallen into his trap long ago.

“Ya boudou skucha—what are you doing?” 

You were drowsily planting kisses on his neck. You stopped once the room became silent and looked up, catching his half-lidded amethyst gaze. The conjurer’s expression was for once softened—or perhaps it had been the entire time you were with him. It was a gift only you were blessed with. 

You smiled, a tad smugness in your look, before sitting up and giving him a shy peck on his lips. 

For a few seconds, you were both frosted in that moment of time—his hands wrapped around your waist, massaging circles onto your skin under your shirt as you straddled his own, your eyes fixated on his almost surprised, slightly flustered violet stare. The candles illuminated the room in such a way that made you think it was really only you two who existed in the world—your two souls someplace faraway where nothing else mattered but the sounds of your heartbeats and what you would do next after his mouth slightly parted. You were the most beautiful thing Fyodor had laid eyes on, throughout eras of people. 

You kissed him for the first time that night, and the ravenette kissed you back. It escalated to become sloppy—you were both too exhausted to care whether your lips were on his or if they instead trailed down to trace his jawline as sharp as those of the greek gods. Or when you were back on your lover’s neck—however, this time almost sucking, mesmerized by how easily you could bruise him. You did not need to wear lipstick to create deep red marks on Fyodor’s pale skin. 

“I told you that you’d end up being a distraction.” 

You shivered at cold fingertips dancing across your lower abdomen, though they were still quite far from anywhere you wished. You winced when Fyodor bounced you up in order to fix your position, but it offered a different effect. 

“Careful,” he warned. “That spot is visible to others.” 

Being the leader of the Rats in the House of the Dead and member of organization Decay of Angels placed the Russian at a high status in the underground world. He always restricted the places you could leave visible traces of affection on him whenever he had a new operation in front of him—Fyodor was one to uphold modesty. 

You sighed softly before disconnecting your mouth from his neck, only to unbutton the top half of his shirt. 

Like his hands, the demon’s heart was cold. He bore at least some sense of insensitivity to death—he had to; granting silence was part of his duty. However, something about you ignited a fire in him out of nothing, out of no help amidst ice—you were not given a flame nor torch to aid you.

If he was the one to destroy the world to pay the price of ridding sin, you were the one who rebuilt creation from the ground and up. You were unfazed by the city ruins; you were unfazed by Fyodor Dostoevsky, the man most feared in the world. A duality: to them, his hands soaked in crimson blood, but to you, they clasped around yours in adoration.

And since he’d met you, his heart was filled with the foreign warmth of love. Accompanied were trust, vulnerability, and your sweet, honey-like kisses that you littered all over his broad shoulders and chest, because he deserved love everywhere. 

He whispered against your ear, promising he would indulge you more another day, when you weren’t so sleepy. When both he and the moon had a little more time in the sky, was what he didn’t say. At the same time, he took a free hand to slowly guide your eyes to close, hovering barely above your eyelashes. 

You complied, with no more complaints, as he kissed you on the forehead. 

…

As Fyodor carried you down the hallway to the bedroom bridal-style about half an hour later, you dozed into dazy consciousness once again. 

“You have…another mission, hm?” you whispered, recalling the preceding hints he had given you. 

“Yes,” he quietly replied, walking into the dark bedroom. He tucked you under the covers before getting in right beside you. 

“Truly, why were you in the library?” you asked, getting out your final curiosity before you fell back to dream. 

“I did have a ‘sort-of’ job,” Fyodor replied. “Taking care of you. I was aware you’d show up.”  

“Please stay safe, Fedya.”

…

You knew something was off with the thunderstorm that came several weeks later. A vampire apocalypse—however fictitious that sounded—was happening back in Japan, but Fyodor kept you overseas at where you two stayed before departing. 

You didn’t ever touch his plans, but your mind finally processed how every event leading up until now seemed so wrong. The month-long stay—Fyodor had never done that before. The week you decided to read tragedies—you felt one even worse than those acted out in the theatre was coming. That night you stayed up—your gut was already screaming that he was about to depart again. 

And how this time would be different than before. Your intuition had warned you, yet you still fell asleep and let him leave. You stood before the journal the conjurer made sure caught your eye that night. With shaky hands and heavy rain beating down on the windows, you flipped through the pages. Confusion and tears formed in your eyes at the vague implication of what was written. 

Do not worry yourself with the death of all things that are seen and unseen by you. It is not an end, but the start of all things that are left to do. 

Rodnaya, you asked what I did not agree with concerning your thoughts about Hamlet loving Ophelia. Have you ever considered a man having both love and ideals at the forefront of his mind? Isn’t love a dream itself? 

…

Fyodor swore this when he judged how all could go wrong in the next step of his plan. Prior to meeting you, the calculating, confident smirk he always had on his face was authentic, and he simply assumed he would never fall to a mistake. 

But now the plans were adjusted to work around you; the schemes all ended to benefit you, too. If he misjudged something, not only would it fail the perfect world God deemed it to be, but it would also affect you through and through. 

Perhaps that was why he only almost saw you as an angel no matter how much you resembled one—no, you were far more glorious than one. You were human—so human that instead of looking down at him from above, you came down onto tainted soil and blessed him with a piece of heaven. Real empathy that now made him think of you as he sat with a rod pierced through his torso in the escape helicopter, doomed to death. 

You truly did ruin him. 

…

“Is there anything you find more powerful than manipulation?” 

And Sigma wondered how such a man so immoral and cruel actually loved someone else. As he searched through the demon's memories, he realized he must go much further back in time to find any helpful information for the brunette ability-nullifier who assigned him. 

Because if it was not anything relating to his plans that showed up through his search, it was every memory of you.

translations: (please pardon me if they’re bad, :’) correct me if you are fluent and would like to!)

dlya neye, v iskrennost : for her, in sincerity

sonnyy : sleepy

lublu tebya, kak angel boga, kak roso lyubit solovey. : i love you like an angel loves God, like a nightingale loves a dew.

s toboy vremya ostanavlivaetsya, yi ya zhivu lish mgnoveniam ryadom s toboy. : with you, time stops, and i live only for moments next to you.

ya boudou skucha[t po tebe] : i will miss you.

i heard if you rb, fyodor will come back to life. :’) reblogs are cherished; they are what support me the most. <3

someone should’ve warned me about hozier. only started listening to him last month and i…can’t stop.

© 2024 AUREATCHI. no reposts or translations. do not steal. support banner + gradient line by benkeibear. animated line by benkeibear. manga header mine.

[chlorinecake]

The Jealous Type | P. JS

contains rich boy jay x female reader, heavily gossip girl coded, kissing, jealousy, angst, cunnilingus (⚠︎)

Jay has a temper, which meant you’d have to hold a movie-star smile whenever he stormed out of business meetings upon flipping a few chairs…

Jay has a high sex drive, and you still haven’t quite mastered the art of making yourself look half-decent after a quickie in his office…

Jay has a reputation, and you’ve known since day one that dating the son of a multimillionaire in a city of bright lights with even brighter personalities meant one thing for you:

That you’d have to learn to look clean while playing dirty at all times.

Picture the backseat of a sleek Rolls Royce, tinted windows, chilled drinks, and roughly three minutes away from your final destination.

“I live a fast life, ____,” Jay began while sitting beside you, almost in a manner of warning as he relaxed into his seat.

“Great. Running sounds like fun,” you said, trying to display confidence before him.

“Every once in a while, maybe, but only if you can keep up…”

You let his words sink in, “Then I'll practice for you.”

He shook his head, “I'm afraid there's not much time left for that, love...”

“Well I've always believed in this thing called beginners luck.”

Your voice trailed off, heart prepared for another one of his defeated responses until he reached a hand in his side to grab something.

“Hold my wallet,” he said plainly, handing the leather rectangle to you.

“Jay, l—”

"Open it...” he pressed, taking your hand in his to force your reluctant fist open, “like it's yours.”

Taking heed to his words, you let out a breath, thumb and index finger tugging at the zipper to reveal a line of bills and his infamous black credit card.

“Jay, what’re you getting at here?”

“Don't look so impressed, it might come off as common,” he interrupted, watching your fingers pause at the leather opening.

You scoffed, “What's that supposed to mean?”

“That we’re in a movie, ____,” he smiled, “Just act the role to win the part.”

Aww, how wise of him….

“Great, so you won't let me run with you but playing pretend is okay?”

His smile didn’t falter at your words, only morphing into a smolder as he peered closer to you.

“Now why would I ever make you run in these sexy five inch heels?”

Your eyes fell to his hand that caressed your thigh once again, “Because sometimes, beauty is pain...”

“Very true… but it doesn't have to be...,” his voice encouraged gently, “not yet... not tonight.”

You expressed agreement with a hum before speaking again, “So can you take your fancy wallet back now?”

“Keep it,” he answered almost immediately, “Let's see if beginner's luck will help you hold onto it…”

“I'd sew this wallet to my ribcage if I had to—”

The vehicle suddenly came to a stop, flashing lights barely visible through the tinted windows as the car doors unlocked in unison.

“This is your exit,” the chauffeur clarified with a strong European accent, Jay offering the driver a thankful wave and stepping out of the car.

He walked over to your side of the car and did the same, telling you to “watch your step” as your feet met the ground.

Jay was right about one thing…

There wasn’t much time for you to practice “running” now that you were just seconds from meeting his friends and family for the first time…

The event in question was Mr. Park’s annual dinner party, held at his newly renovated restaurant in The Palace Hotel.

As soon as you stepped through the automatic sliding doors, you were met with the sound of live classical music thrumming from the center stage.

It wasn’t long before you and Jay got to socializing, helping yourselves to a few hors d’oeuvres and swigs of sparkling champagne under the glass chandelier.

His parents apparently had to leave the event early due to an unexpected emergency, so gossipy topics surrounding his family were definitely on the table.

You made sure to stay beside Jay the entire night, not only to comfort him, but to protect yourself.

That’s when a certain woman who had her eyes stuck on you two since the night began made her way by with a seductive sway in her hips.

“Nice chain, handsome,” she started without hesitation, her unfamiliar face somehow telling of her familiar intentions:

Trouble and drama.

“Thank you, Jennifer,” Jay replied, jawline clenching slightly at her prior use of a nickname.

Saying that Jay looked annoyed right now would be an understatement.

This Jennifer person was obviously his ex, though she continued speaking as if you weren’t even there.

“Isn’t that the same one you used to let me wear?,” she asked, eyes falling to his collarbone where the chain necklace sat.

“No,” he answered, a feigned smile masking the bitterness in his heart, “I got rid of that one a long time ago…”

“Aww,” she pouted, poking her acrylic nail into his shoulder, “do you have any idea how sad that makes me feel?”

“Don't poke at my boyfriend like he's some kind of toy,” you defended, your sudden boldness startling her.

Her hand stop at his the hem of his sleeve, cold green eyes meeting yours with a glare strong enough to make your skill crawl.

Yep… you officially hated her.

“Please, darling... lighten up,” she chirped, “this is just how me and Jay like to play sometimes... isn't that right, handsome? Or do you need a reminder—”

“That'd be rather unnecessary, don't you think?,” Jay snapped at her, “Maybe even a little crass...”

“Well your new girl seems tough... a little story time wouldn't hurt her…”

“Too bad I'm feeling a bit talked-out for the evening,” you spoke against her shameless demeanor, “It was nice meeting you, Jennifer. Really...”

“You too,” she mouthed with a smile, too prideful to reply loud enough for you to hear.

Turning on a heel, you hooked your elbow with Jay's, leading him outside of the venue.

“____, I can explain,” Jay started, matching your walking pace as you circled to hotel parking lot.

You shook your head, “There's no need, Jay… Your ex is a bitch, I get it.”

“____...”

“Can we just go back home already?,” you proposed, just realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

You exhaled weakly, Jay finding your shoulders as he turned you to face him, just inches from the car.

“Yes, love, we can go home, just please calm down for me, okay?”

The pitch of his voice lowered with its volume, “This was just as hard for me as it was for you…”

With that, a silence swarmed between you, just as his hand went to grip the chain around his neck.

He gave it what looked like an effortless tug before each metal link broken apart, leaving the once beautiful necklace into shiny sprinkles of gold on the pavement.

You let out another breath, “You lied, Jay... why would you keep her necklace—”

“I'm not proud of it, ____...,” he interrupted, eyes facing the ground, “but I wasn't gonna sit there and feed into her games by telling the truth...”

“Yeah… that’s because you just stood there and let her touch you instead," you retorted, walking past him and getting into the car.

You’re glad the ride home wasn’t long, you two having arrived at his penthouse somewhere around ten minutes upon leaving.

Jay's boots clicked with each step as he held your hand, guiding you up the stoned path and past the front door.

Few words were exchanged between you both once you got to the master bedroom, plopping yourself on the bed as he stood with his hands at his hips.

“What a waste of good food today... my dad would’ve been pissed to find out the guests hardly ate anything…”

Jay spoke lowly, drawing your eyes to the red velvet stain on his still crisply ironed white sleeve.

“Speaking of food, you have a bit of cake on your blazer... here, let me help you...”

He sighed, “I've got it, ____. It's really no big deal...”

“No, i-it's in an awkward spot, just let me just wipe it for y—”

“I said I've got it, alright!?”

His sharp features faltered upon realizing that he'd just raised his voice at you, and for no good reason.

“I apologize, love—”

“Whatever, Jay,” you sighed, plopping yourself on the hotel mattress, “this was all just a bad idea to begin with…”

“What do you mean by that?” He asked, arching his back so his blazer to fall off his shoulders, noting in his mind to spot-clean the stain later.

“It's just... I don't fit in your world... not a single part of it…”

Jay joined you on the bed, just in his T-shirt and slacks now as he took your face in his right hand.

“There's not a single place in my heart where you don’t fit in perfectly… y'know that?”

“I do, Jay...,” you answered quietly, meeting his dark eyes, “thank you...”

“Of course,” he smiled, placing a tender kiss to the back of your hand, “now let's get out of these fancy clothes and into something more comfortable, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, Jay standing up now and leaning before you to untie the heel straps around your ankles.

“You looked beautiful tonight, by the way,” he smiled, hands reaching beneath your evening gown to pull down the thigh-high satin stockings you wore.

“So did you.... handsome,” you smiled, propping up on your elbows to wash him undress you, and cheeky look on his face at your words.

“I learned something about you thanks to tonight,” he started, standing back up and giving you a look, “didn’t know you were the jealous type…”

You scoffed, feeling his hand tap at your thigh as a cue to turn over on your stomach now.

And so you did, hips up as he crawled onto your back in a straddling position, moving your hair out the way while admiring your beauty.

Your eyes were still internally rolling at his comment up until you felt him massaging your shoulders gently.

Somehow, you could tell he smiled at the little hums that escaped your throat once he applied a bit of pressure.

In a strange way, Jennifer’s behavior had a way of pulling both anger and anticipation out of you…

No, you didn’t like how she got all handsy with your man right in front of you, but you somewhat enjoyed the effect your reaction had on Jay…

He felt bad about what happened. Terrible, even.

And you could see it all over his pouty face that he wanted to make things up to you…

You laid there face down on the mattress beneath him, not able to focus on anything other than the feeling of his bulge pressing into your thighs.

He was turned on right now, and so were you—

“I still think I behaved myself pretty well tonight considering, though,” you huffed quietly, letting your body melt beneath his weight.

Your eyelids fluttered shut as his touch trailed from your hips to your waist, “And I’m very proud of you for that, love,” he whispered adoringly.

His hands now found the necklace around your neck, unclasping it with a simple click before reaching over to place it on the mini bedside table.

“Want me to unzip your dress for you as well while I’m here?…”

All you did was nod lazily in response, the cold metal zipper of the matching white gown you wore sending shivers down your delicate spine.

He slowly followed the trail along the curve of your back, chill air hitting your skin once he fully unzipped it past your hips.

“You know I’d never leave you for someone else, right?”

You let out a hum, feeling a bit frisky now that you were half-naked beneath him…

“Can’t be sure… who knows, there might be another piece of jewelry attached to one of your ex’s lying around here somewhere…”

He made a face at you even though you couldn’t see him from your position, “Seriously ____?”

“Very…” you answered, “…and I’m sorry...”

“It's okay,” he chuckled, letting his hands knead your hips, “But I guess that just means I’ll have to prove you wrong now…”

Your eyes flew open, brows slightly furrowed, “And prove me wrong how, exactly?”

“By giving you something I’ve never given anyone else before…”

He shimmied the evening gown past your thighs, revealing the lace lingerie set you wore underneath, it’s elastic hem snug around your plush skin…

The sight alone was enough to make him feel needy, your round ass perched up perfectly for him.

“Oh, so the whole wallet thing wasn’t a first-time trick either?” You joked, knowing he always liked it whenever you were sassy with him.

Jay smiled at your words once again, “On your back for me, princess.”

You sighed playfully before rolling over like he asked, his hands leaving the curve of your body as you got adjusted.

It didn’t take long for Jay to start teasing you back, letting a single finger circle your clothed breast but never touching your nipple.

You wanted him to grope your tits so badly, but instead his other free hand ghosted over your core, intentionally avoiding contact with your sweet spot.

“I have to ask this because I'm a gentleman, but do I have permission to make you cum more than once tonight?”

His question didn’t catch you off guard, but it definitely made you feel something in your stomach.

With dreamy eyes, you struggled to either focus on the spot between his legs or the smirk on his face…

“Only if you mean it...,” you finally uttered, giving him the cue he’d been waiting for so he could please you properly.

He let out a chuckle at your words, “Make sure you hold still for me, princess… you can pull on my hair if it gets too much...”

You watched as he nestled between your legs, looking up at you as a kitten waiting for head pats.

“But that'll hurt you, Jay...”

“I know,” he smirked, tugging your lingerie to the side and marveling at your swollen heat.

He immediately started lapping at your wetness, spitting on your clit despite how wet you already were.

“So fucking pretty,” he hummed in between making out with your sensitive cunt, foul sounds bouncing off the walls as your chest heaved with need.

Your hips subconsciously circled his face, the added movement heightening your pleasure.

You let your hands find his hair, not pulling yet but more so clawing at his scalp.

Jay groaned at your actions, looking up at you while his tongue still flicked against your clit.

The sight and sensation combined made your thighs tremble, Jay’s strong hands holding your hips down against the mattress.

“Baby, you’re supposed to stay still, remember?”

The words left his mouth in such a cooing manner, your mind going foggy because of his raspy bedroom voice.

You managed to squeak out a weak sentence, breathiness in your tone from all the action, “I-I’m trying, Jay…”

You cut yourself off when a loud whine slipped past your mouth, Jay’s hand reaching up to grope your tits while he kept sucking.

At this point, you couldn’t help but to tug at his locks, guiding his face against your folds for your own pleasure.

And he loved every bit of it… you using his face to help yourself climax.

You didn’t expect for a finger to enter you though, especially not a second one once he sped up his licking movements.

Another moan meddled from your body, eyes sealing shut as your hips rutted into his mouth, Jay’s little grunts acting as your breaking point.

The band in your stomach eventually popped, your clit throbbing with pleasure once Jay let his mouth ease your high with kitten licks and kisses.

He looked at you with such love in his eyes, “Are you convinced yet, princess?”

You couldn’t believe he was trying to talk to you in a state like this, but you still knew exactly what he was referring to with that question…

“Yes, but I think you could still do a little more,” you whispered back teasingly, caressing his face that was beaming with a subtle glow just from tasting you.

A smirk tugged at Jay’s lips once you stuck out a hand to pull him closer.

He sealed the contact with a kiss, resting a hand on your exposed thigh that still trembled slightly from your first climax.

“____,” he broke away breathlessly, clinging to your waist, “are you sure you can handle more? We can stop here…”

It’s not that he was concerned, as it was quite obvious in you haze stained eyes that you wanted more from him.

Though, given how tired you’d become after such a long day, he didn’t wanna risk overdoing it.

“But we just started kissing properly,” you protested lazily, leaving another peck to his puffy lips.

“I know, princess,” he smiled again, massaging the flesh of your thigh with his hand, “but we can always continue this another time…”

Another time when you two didn’t have to be at the airport around four in the morning the next day...

You understood him perfectly, and as his lady, you intended to respect him whenever he called the shots, even if it meant you’d have to wait.

“A better time, then,” you added, lips not being able to stay off of his as guided you back against the mattress.

In all honesty, it wasn’t easy for him to tell you no like this, especially not with the raging boner in his pants now, but he knew your rest was more important.

It didn’t take long for him to hang up all your clothes, hop in the shower with you.

He had even helped you wash your hair, massaging your scalp and washing you down before grabbing you both a clean set of pajamas to wear.

And of course, they were matching.

Finally, you took it upon yourself to prepare a set of fresh bedding linen for you two, starting a load on laundry to get back to whenever you could.

Letting out a yawn, Jay found the silk mattress first, still smelling of his potent lavender body wash by time you joined him.

Finding your waist, he pulled you against his toned chest, snuggling his member in between the natural shape of your hips, but not in a sexual way…

More so, it was a protective cuddling position, in essence…

He left a few kisses along your neck, helping you to get comfortable under the covers.

“Moving forward,” you started randomly, “let’s make sure there are no Jennifer’s on the guest lists for your private events…”

Jay let out a laugh that melted your lovesick heart all over again, “Aww, we have our first mutual enemy…”

“Can’t say she doesn’t deserve it, either…,” you returned, grazing the knuckles of the hand he held you with, “thanks for making me feel better, baby...”

He pressed another warm kiss to soft skin, “Of course, princess… Now let’s get some sleep now, hmm? We have another obligation tomorrow, you know….”

Ahhh, yes… The fast life of Jay Park.

“To tomorrow…” you agreed, feeling his warmth leave you for a second as he turned the night light off, “now hold me properly, you’re not close enough.”

✧ Thank you to everyone who’s reading this right now!! I meant to give this story a full smut ending, but for some reason, it’s always hard for me to write intense sexual stuff for Jay ;-; … Anyways though, this was also my first time writing a oneshot for our Mr. Jongsby, so let’s hope I did him justice and y’all liked this one :’3 …

✧ My masterlist for newbies and bored readers huhu ^^

✧ 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 💌 ) @squoxle @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @addictedtohobi @ot7sevenlvr

[cheesycatz]

The Making of: Life-Size Malworm Plush

(Wormton AU)

STATS

16 ft 3 in (495 cm) long

Total time: 150 hours

Material Cost: $124

Theoretical minimum cost (based on seamstress wage): $2,524

(Progress photos and commentary below)

I'll be referring to my life-size wormton plush as "malworm" for convenience sake.

Unlike my Spamton NEO, Caine, and Fake Peppino plushies, I didn't spend a lot of time on concept art. Since I planned to make the malworm plush as close as possible to its 2D design, I didn't have to add much stylization, other than simplifying some details (no way in hell was I going to make 104 separate embroidered stitches for the segments of his toes, sorry). I mainly used the planning stage to calculate how wide the body pieces needed to be, plotting it out in 1/4 in : 3 in scale and using circumference formula to find the values I needed. I planned to make it around 10 feet long, the length of a young adult malworm. A lot of this project was improv, but, I mean, it wasn't my first or second or third time making a spamton centipede.

The head was quite a complicated shape, so I carved a tiny model out of craft foam, covered one half of it in masking tape, then cut the masking tape mask (hah) into flat pieces. I then traced the pieces onto graph paper and manually scaled them up by using the fact that I wanted the nose to be 1 ft long as reference. The rest of the pattern pieces were very simple, as wormton's teeth, body, legs, etc were very easy to translate into 2D shapes. I used old school notes as paper for the body, as I needed a lot of it. It was entertaining cutting exerpts of Moby Dick and English Renaissance biographies into body parts. I ended up making the body significantly longer; I had to spend $100 dollars on fur anyways, so why not make a maximum size one?

Making the pattern pieces took around 8 hours. While waiting for the fur to ship, I started cutting out the teeth, legs, and eyes. By the time the fur arrived, I had already sewn 36 worm teeth. I did an 11hr all-nighter to cut all the fur in one sitting the day it arrived. After a long vacuuming session and an uptake in the amount of polyester fiber in my lungs, I finished cutting the pieces, taking about 18 hours and 40 minutes.

As usual, the head was the first thing I worked on. It was...kind of wonky once I flipped it inside out. I trimmed some of the fur so that I could actually see what was happening. The main issues were the lack of any forehead, the nose being way too wide, and the cheeks being too flat. I did some ladder stitching as well as modifying the thing from the inside, and eventually made the head look much better. The cheeks still don't stick out that much still, but I'm happy with how the head looks now. I think it conquered the sopping wet owl resemblance. I inserted wire into the nose and jaws to help them keep their shape.

When I started this project, I wasn't sure whether to make it based off of Wormton or just a copyright-free malworm; I decided to do both. I went with red for the non-Spamton version, as I think it really fits the cartoony fly/mothman-style cryptid look malworms are supposed to have.

I sewed a square pouch into the throat and put in all those teeth. I used hot glue to wrap blue squares around a wire for the proboscis, because I think I would've gone bonkers cuckoo bananas if I had to hand sew that entire thing. The throat pouch holds the proboscis when it's not extended, as well as anything else I wanted to shove in there. I never measured it, but it's around 4-5 ft long. I finally made the Spamton... eye patches(?) and a pair of eyelids, though I didn't end up using them in the photo shoot. I also made a new pair of nostrils, as the old ones kind of got swallowed up from all the plastic surgery I was giving him

Now that the head was finished, I got to work on the body. I sewed the white belly and segments of the body together. I left most of the tail open, as the fur was too thick for me to flip it out at a certain point. I worked on the legs, next. After living out my cosplay dreams by putting the claws on my fingers like bugles chips, I grouped the claws together and sewed most of each leg and foot together, leaving me with many pairs of charred drumsticks (did not taste good)

I attached an extra long wire structure into each set of claws, then threaded the wire through each respective leg and stuffed them. I ladder stitched the claws to each foot, then stuffed each with some plastic beans in order to give the feet weight. I then finished sewing each foot shut. I now had a pile of disembodied limbs and one very long scarf.

I wound many long pieces of wire together to create an armature for the body. While the plush's body is way too heavy to be properly posable, the wire does still give some structure. I wrapped the extra long ends of the legs' wires to the metal spine, using the body's leg holes for reference. I then pulled the body up the metal armature like a sock.

I pulled the legs through their respective holes and stuffed the body. It was the first time the malworm was huggable! It's sort of like an oversized body pillow, in a way. I had to ladder-stich all the limbs, the head, and the rest of the tail, as it would've been completely impossible to flip inside out. It was quite difficult to do on furry fabric, and my thread frequently broke from the force I had to pull with to keep the stitches tight. Eventually, I got everything attached to some degree.

The last details I worked on were the mane, tail tufts, and scopula pads. The mane and tail tufts were ladder stitched onto the body, but I decided to use glue to attach the pads to the feet. I think the extra blue details make his proboscis fit much better, and who doesn't love spider paw pads? I also glued some velcro to the eye patches so that they stay attached better. They slide under the black eye rings.

My malworm was finally finished! I tried to put a lot of effort into the photo shoot so that people who don't know about the AU can enjoy it. I wanted to make it seem like some weird entity whose only goal is obtaining more Spamton brainrot. Hence it making Spamton on Mario Kart DS under the bed, obsessing over the Spamton Plush, inspecting the Spamton Shrine, and just generally harassing the photographer (me, I guess?). I wanted to capture the silliness, creepiness, and lack of respect for personal space that Spamton is known for. I thought about giving him a bag of doritos under the bed like that one image of the isopods eating them, but went with the DS instead. I thought it would be funny to see this thing playing Super Mario 64 DS (or Super Spamton 64) and here the "buh bye!" sound effect when it closes the DSi XL.

That's all from me, for now. I have other Wormton related matter to attend to.

Don't let the parasitic Spamton larvae bite

[ghostaholics]

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂

➸ PAIRING: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x gn!Reader ➸ TAGS/WARNING(S): none ➸ BANNER CREDIT: cafekitsune & benkeibear

Detail-oriented, exceptional manual dexterity when it comes to sewing him up. Your movements are careful and controlled – meticulous with regards to everything that you do but especially focused on how the edges line up so that they don’t overlap. Other medics – they'll rush. Botch it. A shoddy job like tectonic plates of skin forced to converge on each other, because in his line of work, stitches are an afterthought when there's another bloke with a sucking chest wound whose deep in the throes of respiratory distress and the only immediate threat about Ghost's own injury is the small amount of blood he'll lose. Whatever will get it closed. Nobody else cares much about the cosmetic factor. But you do. Painstakingly so. It's a thankless job to spend three times longer than it should to get it right, but he makes sure to express his appreciation for the consideration you put into every single graze/cut/gash (even more diligent if the injury's to any part of his arm that could mess up his tattoo sleeve). They always heal nicely.

He looks for you, after-hours – well late into the night because you were occupied patching up other soldiers. It'd been a grueling mission, lots of WIAs needing your attention. He doesn't even have a good excuse for this. It's a trivial thing, maybe, to bother you. Like asking Atlas for a favour, with the weight of the world on your shoulders and the soul-crushing responsibility of holding lives in the palms of your hands as though you're the last line of defense against death. This is stupid. This is beyond fucking stupid of him. Almost turns around and walks away from the medical tent, because that's how ridiculous it is. But he convinces himself to head in, asking if you can fix the stitching on his mask because the only person he trusts more than himself to do it is you. Though his request is benign, the significance behind it is profound in ways that he won't admit to himself. There are very few people he can count on. And of course, you say yes with a tired smile and a brightness in your eyes that never seems to dull in front of him no matter how exhausted you might be. It's one of the rare instance he lets his guard down, shows his face. He keeps you company the entire time, telling you about why he wears that mask while you restore it back to original condition.

The irony of having an injured medic: Simon's saddled with the pitiful task of having to step into your role because there's a gash on your forearm that needs to be taken care of. He knows how to do a basic stitch – is fairly confident that he can thread the sutures just like you’d showed him a million times by now whenever he’d been looking for a reason to see you ( ❝ Show me how to do it right. The proper way, yeah? ❞ ). And he's admonishing you to hold still, except it's sort of difficult when you're being treated like a bloody pincushion. He'd never let anybody else get away with making fun of him for that but this is you so he lets it slide. After talking him through it (which you find quite odd, considering that he never would've struck you as someone who’d need extra time and help), you inspect his handiwork, mildly impressed.

❝ Oh, you actually... well, you did quite a decent job. ❞ ❝ Of course. ❞ Because he wouldn't settle for anything less than perfecti— ❝ But then again, it is a little off over here, ❞ you point out, just to deflate his pride. There's still smugness to his tone. ❝ Would you like me to start over, then? ❞ ❝ Not on your life, Riley. ❞

He doesn’t mention how phenomenal he is at suturing, doesn’t mention that he sat in on a class for combat specialists early on in his career even though he didn't need to be there and was commended for his technique by the leading instructor. He definitely doesn't bring up the fact that he's been taking long on purpose just because he likes your company.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Part 1

For every beginning, there has to be an end first.

Tags/Warnings: Punk!Jungkook, strangers to lovers, Stereotypes, description of Unrequited love, romance, accidental flirting, some angst, major fluff

Length: ~3k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook’s apartment is surprisingly clean, and most of all.. Bright.

His shelves are filled with trinkets, pictures and little things that seem to value for him. LED lights roam around the white walls, while soft music playing in the background- all while he cooks in his open kitchen, singing to the song currently filling the apartment. It feels oddly comforting to just watch him like this, hair a bit wild on his head, casually dressed, everything domestic and without any force at all.

“Do you like yours spicy?” He asks, and you shrug.

“Not really.” You answer, resting your head on your arms on the kitchen counter. “I enjoy.. Bland foods. Like chicken ramen, with just an egg.” You giggle softly. “I know what to expect from it every time I make it.”

He looks at you for a second, before he smiles knowingly. “But where’s the fun in that?” He chuckles. “Gotta have some.. Variety every now and then, no?” He asks, but you shake your head.

“I’m not the kind of girl for.. Variety. And fun.” You answer.

“Well you were certainly up for something fun last week.” He mentions, making you roll your eyes as you sit up, leaning back a bit as you look at the countertop your hands rest on.

“That was.. Kind of just because I was tired of it.” You mumble, while Jungkook turns off the stove to fetch some bowls and cutlery to plate up the food.

“Tired of what?” He asks as he puts the food into appropriate portions.

“Being a virgin.”

Jungkook’s entire body freezes at that, even the chopsticks he holds stiffening as he stares into nothingness for a moment, eyes wide. He slowly puts everything down, before he looks at you.

“That was.. Your first time?” He asks, and you nod, not seeing the issue with it at all.

“My first kiss, too. In the car.” You mention, and at that, he dramatically turns around, hands on his face.

“Oh my god, what?!” He whines towards no one, and you can’t help but laugh at his misery. Why he’s so invested in that you’re not sure of- but it’s oddly cute almost, how it seems to affect him. “No, no no no I’m not letting that stand!” He denies, shaking his head as he braces himself on the countertop opposite from you, looking at you with a serious expression that holds no harsh feelings however. “We’ll rewind the whole thing, I don’t care.”

“What, are you going to sew up my hymen back together and try again?” You ask, making him laugh at your blunt words, unable to keep a straight face at the way you so dryly ask that.

“I-no, but I can, I don’t know, give you such a good experience you’ll forget the club-incident altogether.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, making you laugh. “So no sex and no kisses until I took you out on a proper date, got it?” He playfully threatens.

“You’re weird.” You tell him, but he just shrugs with a grin, leaning over to kiss you- just to slap the counter and yell to no one-

“Ah fuck!” making you laugh once more.

Amused that he can’t seem to follow even his own rules when it comes to you.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

“Alright, so I kind of have a little rule for you.” He tells you as you both finally sat down in the restaurant a few days later, surprisingly fancy and way out of your usual price range. “There’s.. Probably gonna be a guy coming to our table as soon as I order food. Do not, under any circumstances, take anything that comes out of his mouth seriously.” He tells you with a dramatic expression, making you furrow your brows a little- though you nod.

“Okay?” You answer, getting a bit nervous at the prices on the menu.

“By the way, just order whatever.” He chuckles, watching you- before he leans forwards. “Trust me, don’t look at the price.” He urges, and you nod, though still a bit uneasy.

After ordering something for the two of you- deciding to share a large steak and some side dishes just in case you can’t finish it on your own, something happens that Jungkook spoke about earlier- a man walking from the kitchen into the restaurant, seemingly searching for something or rather someone- making a beeline for Jungkook as soon as he spots him.

“Jeon Jungkook, I can’t believe this!” He barks out, but instead of greeting him, he straight up walks towards you- smiling as he bows politely, and reaches out to shake your hand. “This isn’t true is it? A date?” He asks, now looking at him- though Jungkook is busy hiding his face, looking down and shielding his eyes with his hand before he glares at him.

“Can you maybe talk a bit less like you’re at a fish market?!” He hisses at the man, before he looks at you with a sigh. “You’re free to kick or bite him, I’m sorry he’s being weird.” He apologizes, but you just laugh it off, amused by the whole interaction.

Well, Jungkook is a little odd. So it’s not surprising his friends are just as unusual.

“I’m not weird, you’re weird for not introducing me to her!” The man whines. “Kim Seokjin. I’m so glad he finally got over his weird crush-”

“Jin please-” Jungkook complains, and you feel a little sorry for him.

“What? That harpy lived off of your paycheck for months if not years! Was about time you pulled your head out of that situation.” He mumbles, crossing his arms. “Anyways, I’ll make sure your food comes out right away. You two just relax and enjoy your night yeah?” He smiles. “And don’t worry about the check. I’ll cover it for you.” Jin winks at Jungkook, who runs a hand over his face as his friend leaves.

“I’m so sorry for that.” He chuckles a bit embarrassed, but you wave him off.

“He seemed nice.” You say, and he nods.

“He is. My best friend, really- but he can be a lot.” He explains. “He was worried about me for quite some time.” He admits a little shameful, but you just shrug it off.

“Understandable.” You simply answer. “I hope he knows I’m not here to use you.” You say, as the food finds its way to the table.

“I know that you’re not.” He tells you softly, smile warm as he looks at you. “And that’s more than enough.”

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

A few days later, you’re staying over for the first time.

He’s busy washing the dishes with you when someone knocks on the door however, making him excuse himself to go check who it might be- just for someone to enter right away, the person quickly stopping however at the sight of you at the sink in his kitchen. “didn’t know you had a friend over, kookie.” She says, waving at you in a friendly manner-

Though there’s a strange sharpness in her gaze, like an animal snarling more than someone smiling.

“Why are you here?” Jungkook asks, and he looks oddly.. strange to you in this moment. Like he’s internally fighting with himself, unsure what to really do. Like he’s cornered, pressured to pick a side, like a child asked which parent they love more or less.

“Its kind of private?” she meekly says, wringing her hands a little. “I’ll just text you later, maybe we can hang out tomorrow after work?” she wonders, and Jungkook looks at her.. very oddly. Even she seems to notice, sensing something off as his gaze changes, becomes softer, but not in a way she was most likely hoping for.

“Lucy, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He denies gently, taking a deep breath. “I.. I can imagine what you’re going to ask me, and I can’t keep doing this.”

“You don’t even know what I’m gonna ask you-“ she defends herself with an uneasy chuckle, and you feel like you’re witnessing something you shouldn’t be. But you’re trapped- you can’t move, can’t escape, because they’re having this conversation right where you’d need to pass to get out the open kitchen. “Kookie come on, is it because of that night with-“

“If you think that’s what bothers me, how come you never mentioned it?” He asks, but it’s without any bite. It’s more.. disappointed, if anything. Like he’s exhausted. “You knew all this time that I liked you. You knew it.” He tells her, and she sighs, looking away.

“It was just awkward, okay?!” she defends herself. “after I turned you down that one day at the Cafe, I regretted it. And then I felt like.. I missed the chance. I didn’t know that you like me still.” She offers softly. “I.. Jungkook, I’m sorry for how it went. Let’s talk about it properly tomorrow okay?”

You feel out of place. You really want to leave.

You don’t want to witness any of this, or what’s to come.

“No. “ He however answers, catching her off guard, clearly. “You’re.. too late. I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, before he walks to open the door.

“ju..” she looks at you with both devastation, and something akin to both jealousy and envy, strangely enough. “Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be there.” She says while looking at you, before she walks past Jungkook- her attempt to hug him denied as he gently pushes her away by her shoulder. “right.” She simply sighs, before she leaves- his phone vibrating multiple times after the door closed, probably with texts she’s sending him.

The device is promptly thrown onto the couch- though it misses the furniture, and clatters to the floor harshly, vibrating somewhere under the coffee table before it becomes quiet.

You carefully move to walk out the kitchen, give him space- but instead, you feel him hug you from behind, arms around you holding onto your body as if you’re a lifeline. You turn around to hold him too, unsure for a moment what’s wrong-

When he takes in the first shuddering breath, sniffling from trying to not make it obvious that this just hurt him. It must have- after all, he’s been after her for such a long time, just to have her basically confess days after he’s started to get involved with you instead.

Does he feel regret?

“You can meet up with her tomorrow.” You tell him. It doesn’t hurt you as much right now- after all, you haven’t had enough time yet to get emotionally attached to the point of no return yet. “Maybe this was all just.. one big misunderstanding.” You shrug, but he holds you tighter now, shaking his head that’s still hiding in the crook of your neck.

“I don’t want her.” He denies, voice awfully fragile. “I hate her.” He even tells you, while you run your hands over his back. “Please stay..” he mumbles into your skin, and you nod.

“If you want me to.” You offer. “but don’t feel like you have to choose me right now. I’ll be fine.” You make sure he knows, but again, he shakes his head.

Instead, he removes his face from you to show himself vulnerable, tears still falling from his eyes, emotions boiling over as he moves to kiss you, the gesture desperate. Maybe he needs to convince himself he made the right choice. Maybe he’s imagining her instead? Has he ever kissed her at all?

“no-“ he whines, complains like he can read your mind, hands on your cheeks as he looks at you with frustration. “What’s wrong?” He asks, but you just look at him confused.

“What do you mean?” You ask, because you’re genuinely not sure what his problem is.

“You’re not kissing me.” He explains, but you just frown.

“What? I am.” You respond. “not right now, obviously, but I was.. you know. Kissing back.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “not like you did before.” He denies. How can he even tell? “is it because of her?” he asks, carefully so, as if he’s afraid of the answer. “I promise I’ll delete her number-“

“Jungkook you’re really emotional right now.” You tell him. “You’re not thinking clearly-“ you try and make sure he doesn’t rush things, but he shakes his head.

“I am.” He denies. “for the first time, I feel like I actually am.” He tells you, hands moving to rest on your shoulders now instead. “but, if you want to go home . now, you can. M-maybe that’s a good idea? I don’t know..” he tells you, confused.

And it just underlines you statement that he’s not very clear in his head right now to make any kind of decision.

So you do it for him instead, packing your little bag to go home on your own tonight-

Though he pays for the cab, no amount of words from you able to change his mind.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You slept way too long- phone telling you its pretty much the middle of the day as you accept the call, mumbling something incoherent.

“Good morning.” Jungkook chuckles on the other end of the call. “Could you like, let me in maybe? Your neighbor keeps asking me if she should call the cops on me.” He tells you, and you frown to yourself, slowly walking out your bedroom and to open the front door- where he actually sits, right in front of it, back having been resting against the door. “thanks.” He tells you, getting up to stand in front of you now. “can I come in?” He wonders, and you sleepily nod, letting him in before you close the door behind him. “damn it’s cold in here!” He laughs, and you rub your eyes.

“I sleep better when it’s cold..” you mumble. “What’re you doing here?” You ask, yawning.

“have been thinking.” He tells you, hands in his pockets after he takes off his boots. “like you told me to.”

“Oh.”

You’re not really sure what to expect now- but then again, you did tell him to really think about it once he’s had a good night’s rest and all, so you can’t really complain now if his answer is not one you’d like to hear. “I’m sorry that.. you had to witness what happened yesterday. Both her visiting so unannounced and.. well, my slight mental breakdown after.” He tells you, rubbing the back of his neck a bit before he straightens his posture again. “and I’ve made my decision. Properly, this time.” He promises.

“Oh, okay.” You nod. “you.. gonna meet up with her later?” You ask. He shakes his head.

“No.” He denies. “though I did call her to tell her I don’t want to stay in contact any longer.” Jungkook says, and you look at him for a moment. “I really meant it. I don’t want her any longer. I.. you kind of made me break free.” He shrugs.

“Oh uh.. I’m glad then.” You nod. “You’re.. you deserve that. The freedom, and stuff.” You say.

“I still want you, just to be clear.” He chuckles. “if anything, I really kind of.. fell for you yesterday.” He bashfully confesses.

“What? How?” You wonder, sitting on your small sofa with him next to you.

“You.. technically had me. Right in the palm of your hand.” He says, looking at your bare legs. “And yet you chose to step back, and let me catch myself. You made sure I didn’t just.. rush into things without thinking, and I’m very thankful for that.” He admits. “You were looking out for me.”

“I.. did what was right.” You shrug. “or what felt right to me at least.”

“You’re very kind, you know?” He says, smiling softly. “I’m.. it’s kind of scary just how quickly I’m becoming attached. It’s ridiculous.” He complains with a laugh, shaking his head. “But at the same time I can’t really bring myself to care.”

“Do you still feel bad for taking my virginity in a club?” You giggle, but he just rolls his eyes.

“I’m still gonna erase that memory from your mind one day, just so you wait.” He points a finger at you playfully. “but also no. You said you’re okay with the way things happened, so I accept it too.”

“so..” you mumble, moving your legs up to have your feet rest on the couch. “what now?” you ask.

“whatever you’d like.” He shrugs, resting his head on the backrest just like you do, looking at you with a warm gaze.

“What do you wanna do?” You wonder, and he grins.

“How about we fall in love?” He asks-

And you can’t help but smile too, as you look at his eyes sparkle, much more than the silver piercings decorating his lip and ears.

“Okay.”

[sister-lucifer]

Brian/Hoodie, Toby, + Eyeless Jack with a chubby S/O

Brian, Toby, + EJ x Gender Neutral Reader (Separately)

[Anonymous Request]

Genre: Fluff + NSFW

Content/Warnings: NSFW but no smut, lots of body talk (all positive), so if that makes you uncomfortable be aware, oral sex (reader receiving), Toby likes to suck titties, Toby is very handsy 

A/N: i’m almost definitely projecting on this one cuz i have a chubby partner and i lub him🥺 

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

Brian 

[SFW]

Brian’s a pretty lanky lad, he’s built like stickbug 

So having a chubby S/O would be a WONDERFUL contrast for him!

His favorite thing is being able to use you as a human weighted blanket 

He cant fall asleep without you, not after that first snuggle session! Your presence is so warm and calming 

You’re just perfect for cuddles, especially spooning 

Any excuse he has to wrap his arms around you, he’s taking it, 100% 

Big bear hug with a playful squeeze to boot 

+ He’s asking you to sit on his lap any chance he gets 

Oh there are three other chairs you could use? But he loves you:( Sit with him:( He’s just a little guy:(

( (manipulatively) )

I’m sure we all know that finding plus sized clothes that are cute but not expensive as FUCK is way too hard, but that problem is completely out the window now 

Brian has mad sewing skills, so he can alter OR duplicate anything you’d like! 

(The only catch is he has to make/get a matching one for himself, this is non-negotiable, sorry) 

[NSFW] 

Of course, we can’t always be family friendly wholesome here 

Let’s just say he loves having so much soft, plush skin to grab onto 

This man is a head giving god, like ridiculously skilled 

And not only that, he really enjoys doing it. For him it can sometimes be more enjoyable than the actual sex part 

He looooves grabbing onto your thighs and hips while he eats you out, just grabbing handfuls of everything he possibly can 

He gets really into giving oral too, like closing his eyes and moaning and just giving it his all, completely invested 

He’s gripping on for dear life 

Don’t be surprised if you have bruises in the shape of his fingertips 

And if you’re feeling especially generous, make sure you squeeze his head with your thighs 

It’s his fave ❤️ 

Toby 

[SFW]

Honestly this segment is gonna be pretty short 💀

Writing anything SFW for Toby is hard, he’s too much of a horndog 

He’s also a cuddle bug much like Brian, so a lot of those headcanons could apply to him 

He’s very tactile so he tends to be grabby, especially with your thighs and love handles 

Not even exclusively in a sexual way, a lot of the time it’s really just a sensory thing 

His hands just absentmindedly wander, and you just happen to be close by most of the time 

He’s not a big fan of anyone or anything laying on top of him at all since it makes him feel trapped, so he likes laying on top of you instead! 

It really helps calm him down after he gets hyper or upset 

[NSFW]

Forgive me if this is a controversial take, BUT: 

Toby is a boobs guy 

And I don’t just mean breasts, I don’t just mean AFAB chests

Any sort of soft chest fat will do 

He’s using his mouth a loooot, sucking and biting and leaving little marks all over your chest and nipples 

And every chance he gets he will grab your chest 

You could be fully clothed doing something completely unrelated to him and if he walks by he’s slipping his hands under your shirt 

He’s grabbing everything tbh 

Once again, it’s a sensory thing that can wind up horny 

He loves your thighs even more than Brian does 

Thigh jobs are his fave ever, not only because your thighs are easy to get to at all times but because they’re so warm and soft and perfect!! 

And the entire time his wandering mitts are squeezing and groping every bit of skin he can get to 

Jack

[SFW] 

Since EJ can’t exactly rely on his sight, he has to use his other senses, one of the most common ones being touch 

He can be touchy too, but not in the same way Toby is 

He doesn’t grab or squeeze or anything, he simply runs his hands over you, often over your clothes 

He likes feeling the softness and the curves of your body, just tracing his fingers over your hips and tummy 

Especially holding your face, rubbing his thumbs over your round cheeks and admiring your beauty in his own way 

He also headbutts like a cat when he wants attention, so don’t he surprised when you randomly feel his face against your stomach or leg 

If you really wanna show him love, let him lay on your chest while you scratch his head 

He likes to be able to listen to your heartbeat 

Jack has many animal like behaviors, one of those being kneading or ‘making biscuits’ like a cat 

If he’s kneading the soft skin of your stomach or thighs, that’s how you know he’s suuuuuper comfortable 

Like, as comfortable as he can possibly get 

Be prepared to be used as a pillow very often 

[NSFW] 

Jack is also good at giving head, but not in the same way Brian is 

He’s not as skilled or practiced, but you can’t go wrong with up to five squirming tentacle tongues working to get you off at any given time 

(Plus, he purrs, which basically turns his mouth into a vibrator) 

He also really enjoys fingering you, and will often use his hands and tongue at the same time 

Your insides are just so warm and soft, and he’s attracted to that heat 

He could get lost in your warmth and sweet taste 

He’ll run his hands gently over your body the entire time, and it’s certainly not unusual for him to knead during these sorts of activities 

He likes to lick you as well, and if you allow him to get a bit carried away, he’ll run his tongue up and down your body 

There’s just something about your plush skin and wonderful curves that completely captivate him in a way that nothing else can 

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 33 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

As it turns out, the Underworld provides a whole slew of services designed to deal with circumstances just like this. Medical care, emergency home repair–and body disposal, all for the price of a handful of gold coins.

You sit with John as a man your lover so descriptively calls Doc sews up Wick’s wounds. There is blood on your face, and your silk pjs. Dog sits on your foot, clearly anxious about letting either one of you out of his sight. In the same spirit, John’s good hand is clasped in yours, or yours in his–neither of you have been able to let go. 

Another man known simply as Charlie orchestrates the removal of the collection of corpses through the house. Yet more tattooed tradesmen work on boarding up the blown out window in the kitchen with a big piece of plywood. 

It’s a miracle, really, the house didn’t burn down. 

“Thought you’d left all this behind you, John?” asks Doc, making a neat knot in the former assassin’s side. 

“So did I.”

“What will you do?”

“The same thing I always do when I’m lost. Talk to Winston.” 

The two men share a snort of laughter you don’t entirely understand. 

When Doc finishes with John he gives you a bottle of pain meds, and a bottle of what are, as far as you can tell, pharmacy grade amphetamines. “In case he has to work again.” You take them with wide eyes and a nod, praying to whatever devil might be listening that that won’t be necessary. 

You’re fairly certain that no one up above is interested in any of you anymore. 

You killed a man. 

You killed a man with a gun to save John, and you do not feel sorry at all. 

Numb, perhaps, but not sorry. 

John groans as he adjusts himself on the couch. You reach out to steady him, helping him best you can. He is heavy, and you look at the stairs with doubt. “Maybe we should sleep down here tonight?”

He blinks at you, undoubtedly thinking you incredibly naïve. “We can’t stay here, baby. It’s not safe.”

“Where will we go?” 

“We’re going to the city,” says John, sounding weary as a man twice his age. “I know a place. Can you drive?”

You have to admit you’re a little dizzy from the whiplash. In the span of a few hours, you’ve gone from being locked up like a princess in the castle, to murdering a man, and now John is going to let you drive?

He must read the blatant surprise on your face. He doesn’t like it, his grip tightening on your hand. “These are bad, bad men who would eat you for breakfast. You’ve got to stick with me.” 

You bristle at this, because even though you absolutely should be thinking about escape? You’re not. You were thinking about how you were going to manage taking care of him in this state, and it pisses you off that he’s still so fucking worried about controlling you that he can’t see the writing written in blood on the wall. 

Or at least, written in blood, on the kitchen floor. 

“You asshole,” you say for the second time tonight. It wins you a lordly scowl that for some fucked up reason thrills you to the tips of your toes. But it’s too late to turn back now. “Were you there, when I fucking shot a man for you? Maybe this is just business as usual for you, but it’s fucking new to me.”

He clenches his other fist on his knee, seeming to count to ten with his eyes closed. “I’m sorry,” he finally grinds out. “I know…Are you alright?”

You guess that you put up a good enough front that he forgot that maybe he should ask. Good on you. Maybe.

“No, not really,” you answer truthfully. “But I don’t have any choice, do I?”

He actually has the grace to cast his eyes down, seeming to really think on what you’re saying. “You had a choice,” he muses quietly, his thumb sliding over your knuckles. “In the kitchen.”

You stroke Dog’s head for something to do with your other hand, which is shaking. Your thundering heart beats painfully in your chest. From the corner of your eye you take in this anomaly of a man. This man, who kidnapped you, who has been playing mental games with you for months, who has kept you prisoner, who has taken your body to heights you never even knew were possible, who has spoiled you, who has adored you and degraded you all in the same breath–this man, who somehow, you know you love with your whole heart. 

“John…” He tilts his head to look at you, his eyes glazed with pain. You’re not sure if it’s physical or mental at this point. “Did you really think I could shoot you?”

Perhaps he did, because in his mind, the only acceptable answer to a wrong against you is murder. 

Perhaps in the brutal world he’s occupied since he was just a child, it is. 

Suddenly he can’t meet your eyes. “Maybe I would deserve it, y/n.”

The fact that he knows that is definitely a good sign. 

But the tricky truth is–it wasn’t all bad. And the good? The good was almost worth the bad, you dare to think now that you’ve survived it. You know better than to say that, because you know you are in the midst of a negotiation right now.

“I love our life together, when you’re sweet to me, John. I only want to murder you when you boss me around. And I only mean that figuratively.”

A huff of laughter escapes him; there is a glimmer of hope in his miserable dark eyes. You know it’s insane, after everything he’s done, but you feel sorry for this man. 

“If you would just treat me as an equal, instead of constantly trying to control me…” I’ll be your ride or die. You can’t bring yourself to say it aloud yet. He already has enough power over you. “Do you think…that’s something we can work on?”

He could have pushed you over with a feather, when slowly he nods, bringing your knuckles to his lips to kiss them. “If you don’t want to murder me after everything I’ve done to you…maybe anything is possible.”

You on the other hand, can only blink. Did you just hear what you think you heard? 

That blood-pressure induced ringing has returned to your ears again. The explosion and gunfire surely didn’t help, but somehow this is far more momentous to you. Your surprise for the magnitude of this admission surprises you, and you must show it in the lift of your brows. It makes him smile ruefully; you’re not sure why the sight of it squeezes your heart so. 

You are not so stupid as to think this traumatic event has healed him miraculously, knocked some loose screw back into place. The mind doesn’t work like that. But just maybe, it did put some things into perspective. You are allies now against a mutual cause, rather than enemies of each other. And just maybe, when you tell him that you don’t want to leave him, he will actually believe you from now on. 

“Anyway…I can drive the Rover…” you say with confidence, even though you are still utterly flabbergasted he’d even give you the opportunity. “I don’t know about the ‘Stang.” The Mustang you think you could manage in an emergency, but it’s been a long time since you had to drive a stick, and being responsible for his baby doesn’t sit well with you. 

“That will do.” He grumbles, mostly to himself, “I’ve got to teach you to drive. There is so much I need to teach you.”

You’re not sure what he means by that. You are too tired to hash it out completely right now, but you sense that something, a whole lot of something, has changed in the past few hours between you.  

He makes to get to his feet with a groan–and can’t quite. “Maybe I am too old for this shit,” he grouses. 

“John, you got shot, stabbed, and fought off ten heavily armed assassins. I think you can count tonight as a win.”

Again, that bitter huff of laughter escapes him. You help John to his feet, trying to steady him as best you can. If he’d injured one of his legs badly you would be so fucked; there was no way you could carry him.

“Um…who were they?” You realize you haven’t even talked about who was just trying to kill him. You suppose you already think you know the answer, but then again you could be wrong.

“Camorra goons, I’m pretty sure,” hisses John, clearly in pain. “Guess I should have kept someone alive for questioning…I’ve always been bad at that.”

You press your lips, because it shouldn’t be funny…but if you don’t laugh about it, you might cry. Your life has been so weird lately, it almost just seems par for the course in a way. 

“John…” you chortle and sigh. “Surely the d’Antonio kid gets the picture now? You’ve killed everyone he’s sent after you? Why can’t these assholes just leave you alone?” Why the prince of the Camorra would court such trouble is beyond you. 

“Good question.” He groans as he takes a step, his good arm slung over your shoulder. “The young ones, especially the second or third generation, think they have to prove themselves. Or maybe…he loved his mother and wants me dead. It’s a faint possibility.” 

“Italian boys and their mothers.” 

John chuckles a little, then winces. “Please, sweetheart,” he entreats you. “Don’t make me laugh.” 

Maybe you are a silly creature, but hearing the endearment for you warms something in your heart that had been left out in the cold for too long. “Fine,” you agree, even though humor is absolutely your biggest coping mechanism. “Tell me what we need to do next?” 

“We need to pack.”

“Ok. What?”

“Suits, and guns.” 

You guess in a nutshell, that was the essential distillation of his world, once upon a time. Now, quite against your will, you both are being kicked back into it. By the look in John’s dark eyes, for some reason you have a feeling it’s the Camorra who are going to regret it. 

[hanalulugguk]

You've been gone 10 years, and it's made you bitter

Part of Sweet - a Gojo Satoru mini series

One

Note: As incredible as his mind is, gege deeply hurt me with chapter 236, this came to mind after reading it when i felt like gojo satoru, strongest sorcerer, was robbed. So this my personal characterization of him <3

Warnings: none for this chapter

unedited

Even though the distance was grand, you could still hear the loud cheers and screams coming from the training courts at the compl;et other side of the school upon entering the school premise after venturing up the long path to the top of the mountain. You take the peaceful walk from the gate to the inside of the building. 

You take your time walking the halls, looking around and stepping into random old classrooms that you remember having spent hours in during your late teens. Navigating your way to the principal's office to the best your memory can serve you. You almost walk past it, the name change throwing you off. You take a deep breath  before knocking against the wooden door, you hear a faint ‘come in’ before you pull the door open. The yellow lighting of the room is dim, and poor. You notice before you step inside that it’s different than you remember it. 

There was no longer a desk at the far end of the room by the window, there was no longer an absurd looking orange couch pushed to the far right of the room with 2 ugly looking metal chairs on either side of it. It’s entirely empty. Once you step inside though you do notice the water cooler in the corner of the room. 

“You’re early,” yaga almost freaks you out from his position in the far end of the room, in the least dim lit area of the room. “Did i interrupt nap time? Why is it so dark here?” you make your way over to where yaga was seated. 

“I can see your sense of humour is yet to waver,” he doesn’t look up from the stuffed doll in his hand, continuing to delicately stuff more cotton into the small opening, needle and thread placed neatly on the mat in front of him along with other doll skin. 

“It never will, and you know it” you jab back as you take a seat next to him, you still cannot see his face fully, but you can see the corner of his lip lift. You sit in silence as he tries to thread the needle to sew the last bit back, after a few minutes of him obviously struggling you grab them from his hand, threading it for him before ripping it from the rool and tying it to secure it. He doesn’t protest when you take the neon green bear from his lap and start to sew the last bit as he watches you. 

“How was your trip here?” you shrug in response. “Same as always, long and tiresome. Next time you ask me to come, I expect to be pulled up on a trolley. These stairs never get easier.” he lets out a breath of a laugh, eyes trained on your working hands. 

“How was europe?” he asks further, “sorcery work is much less busy anywhere outside of japan. Not much to take care of there. It was good.” you hold the bear up once you’re done before turning it for yaga to see, he offers a small smile as he takes it from you. 

“Nice to have you back,”

“It’s only for a month, don’t get too used to it, don’t want any weeping when i’m leaving. “ you joke and he nods, “i know, that was the deal, only a month.” he agrees with you as he places the bear onto the mat at his knees. “I’m not used to the plaque with your name on it,  almost missed your office, or play room. Why’d you empty it so much?” you ask looking around again at all the empty space from when you were still here, walking these halls as if they were your own, which to some extent is true. 

“Felt better, more calm.” he explains as he follows your line of vision, zeroing in on the small photo frame hung up right next to the wall, the one of all of you when you were still in your first year. shoko , satoru, suguru and you as you stand with big smiles around yaga, a cake in his hand and a rainbow polka dot party hat on his head. 

You hum in response to him, “i can get that.” your voice is low, quiet, as the two of you longer on the photo for a little while longer. “So when am i to meet the students?” you ask looking back at yaga who stands with a huff, “now if you’d like.” he looks down at where you remain seated. 

“They’re in the training court with gojo.” you pull your lips into a thin line before offering him a big smile. “Sure.” he extends his hand to you and you gladly take it as he helps you up. 

The two of you step into the hall, you trailing the smallest bit behind yaga, you savor the silence, knowing that although it had been years since you’ve seen each other, you’d prefer to skip the aspect of catching up on what is unnecessary to share, and he knows, so he doesn’t push. As you get closer to the exit leading to the training courts, the chaos gets louder and louder. 

“Are they anything like us?” you ask as you step out into the sun, taking a quick skip to catch up to his pace where you had stalled.  “no one could compare to the lot of you. Worst class i had ever taught.” although it may seem harsh, you can sense the fondness in his tone, and you know, with him saying it that he cherished you. All 4 of you. You shrink into yourself for a second as you grin at his words.

“YA, megumi! You can do better than that, don’t let a girl beat you.” you hear him before you see him. As the two of you round the benches you catch sight of the source of chaos. The students were posed in 2 groups of threes. Two pairs in combat formation with an orange ping pong on each of their heads whilst one spectated each pair. You note the panda but don’t ask any questions. Satoru was seated on the bright green grass, both legs spread in front of him, wide open as he leaned back on his palm, his back in your direction. 

“Why is it that every time i come you are layed back whilst all of your students do the work?” yaga asks satoru who didn’t bother turning around, his sight loud as you catch the motion of him reaching to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose. The students all stopped their training seeing hearing principle yaga’s entrance.

“Well i learned from the best obviously.” gojo responds back nonchalantly as you stop right behind satoru, yaga right next to you. “And since when do you spectat? Has your trust me hindered that much?” he asks leaning his head back to look at, who he thought would be yaga, but instead the top of his head bumps your knees, gazing up at you with pure boredom before his eyes, slowly, widen upon contact. You offer him a smile as yaga speaks up again. 

“I’ve come to introduce someone,” the students whispers, if they would be called that, reach you as you break eye contact with satoru to meet their eyes. They tredge carefully, you’re not sure if it’s yaga’s presence or your foreign one. 

“Due to recent events, and some doubts in your training,” he takes a quick glance at satoru who doesn’t quip up with anything in return, “i’ve brought on some temporary help to grow your abilities in a more reliable way. This is y/n one of the only 5 special grade sorcerers. I believe she’d be great at teaching you something useful.”  

You give a moderately big smile as you offer a small bow to the students, few bow back whilst the rest either give a small wave or nothing at all. You do notice though the boy with bright pink hair and his enthusiastic wave following his bow. “Hello,” he blushes at the personal attention you provide him, placing his hand over his mouth. 

Out of your peripheral you notice satoru shift before getting up, standing so tall above you he almost entirely blocks the sun. you tone out what yaga continues to say to the students as you glance up at the man towering above you, his glasses were now off, held in his hand as he looks you over, eyes scanning your entire figure. His eyes meet yours again, and it’s almost like he’s staring you down. You stare back, just as intense small smile toying at your lips. 

“Hey,” you whisper, and he takes a few seconds longer than you expect to respond. “Hey,” it’s quieter than yours, almost like he’s distracted. 

“Haven’t seen you in a while.” you muse and he scoffs, “kind what happens when you take off right after graduation.” you ignore the sarcasm in his voice. “Kinda what happens when you don’t reach out when you know exactly where i was.” you retort and so he doesn’t respond, just turning to face his students, but you notice the pout he sports before he turns. Very mature on his end. 

“You’ll be attending with her alongside your classes with gojo sensei this month. She’ll help you with everything you need to know regarding special grade curses and how to fight them as sorceres of your grade.”

“That’s possible?” the girl with short orange hair asks, hand placed on her hip as she spares you an unsure glance before looking back at principle yaga. “It is if you learn it from me,” you respond, voice softer to try and not come off as cocky. “Some of the ideals at jujutsu are a little, hmm, outdated, straying away from those ideals are sometimes helpful.” you explain and even though she doesn’t respond, the way her face contorts you could tell she was a little more open to it. 

“You’ll start lessons from tomorrow.” yaga points out before, all in one motion, turns to leave the training court. You watch as he walks away with a frown, “well he hasn’t changed a bit,” you mutter at his lack of regard to you. 

“Hmm, you’d think he’d treat his favourites a little better than the rest of us,” the slight biting tone in gojo’s voice is unharmful, you can tell. “Hmm, you’d think you’d have matured past your teenage years,” you bite back and he yet again scoffs as you roll your eyes as if you were irritated at his attitude but the smile you have tells otherwise.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow, 11 am sharp please.” you give a small wave to the group of students, before turning to gojo one last time. “You too satoru,” you nudge him lightly with your shoulder ut he doesn’t budge, obviously. 

–

It’s past 8pm when there’s a sudden knock at your dorm room, you slip your bookmark between the pages you were on as you place the book on your night stand before slipping your feet into your slippers. Another knock sounds and you can almost feel who the impatient visitor is. You opt to not respond as you wrap your hand around the food handle and twist it open. You briefly meet eyes with gojo before he slips into your room, waiting for no invitation to come in. 

You furrow your brows as you remain where you stood, door lightly ajar, handle still in your hand as your twist your neck to look back at gojo, white shirt and black plaid pyjama bottoms clad as he is halfway to your bed. “Am i on your property?”

“What?” he turns to ask, he’s not wearing anything over his eyes, and even in the dimly light room, his iris glow even brighter than the small bedside lamp you have on. You nod your head towards the door, he huffs before slipping his foot back into his slipper before stepping back outside the entrance to your room. He stood before you, eyes fixed on the cieling as he obviously throws an inner tantrum.

“Can i come in?” he mumbles and you wait a beat for him to continue, when he doesn’t you help him. “Please,”

“Please,” he repeats almost before you’re done, and you open the door fully, he wastes no time in stepping inside again, making his way to your bed, kicking his slippers off before face planting onto the mattress. 

“Oh please, treat my room as your own.” you mumble and he kicks his foot once to help him sit up on your bed as you make your way to your bed, sitting where you were, back against the headboard. He shifts in his spot to turn and face you. “What are you doing here?” he asks blankly as you pick your book back up, collecting your knees up to your chest and pulling the covers onto your legs to cover them. 

“Do you still only listen to yourself when you talk?” you ask placing your book in your lap and looking over at gojo. His face is hard, his breathing mildly laboured, like his heart is beating faster than usual. His brows are furrowed enough to form creases on his forehead as his eyes pierce into yours. 

He doesn’t grant you an answer, you pull you lips in a tight line whilst letting out a sigh, “i’m here to help. Yaga wanted me to come around for a bit, says the sudden surge of special grade curses was worrying him.”

“I’m capable of managing my students.” he fights back making you place your book aside, “no one said you can’t. I’m only here to help.” you explain, voice soft. You can tell he’s feeling a plethora of emotions right now, quite possibly since this morning and it’s been brewing since. 

His brows cease a bit, un-creasing only slightly as he averts his gaze to the crumbled sheets beneath him. Picking at the stray thread in his pant leg. You grant him silence, a chance to bring up what’s actually bothering. You watch him, his slow blinks, his ever changing expression as he seems to be turning things over in his head, the way he starts picking at his palm aggressively, that’s when you intervene. 

You reach over to place your hand over his fidgeting one, he stops instantly. “Don’t,” you say, slowly removing his hand and taking a quick look at his palm. 

“You didn’t reach out.” he points out and you hum, rubbing your thumb over the slightly pink skin of his palm. “Neither did you,” you respond back and he retreats his hand back from yours, tucking them under his crossed legs. 

“I’ve always told you wasn’t planning on staying around.” you point out and he huffs, “though that would’ve changed, after everything,” you know what he’s referring to. 

“Nothing would have changed that. You know it.” you’re not mean, he can tell you’re only being honest. “You’ve been gone 10 years.” he points out and you smirk lightly, “and it’s made you bitter.” 

“I’m not bitter,” he defends, straightening his back as you raise your brows. “Upset?” you ask and he scrunches his face up, “no,” he defends once again, eyes boring into yours. “Hmm, what about yearning? Did you yearn for me satoru?” a light blush raises to his cheeks as he tsks in fake annoyance before getting off the bed as you gloat at his frustration, your grin reaching your eyes as you realise gojo is still as easy to affect as he used to be.

You watch as he paces around slowly, looking at all the things you had laid out from your unpacking. “Why didn’t you put anything up? The walls look boring?” he asks as he scans the bare walls of the room.

“I’m not staying long, there’s no need.” you lean back against the headboard as you watch him observe the space, curious as always. “How long are you staying?” 

“You really don’t listen huh?” you mock and he ignores as he picks up the small matrioshka doll on the vanity, opening it as if he doesn’t know what he’ll find in it. 

“A month,” you respond after a few moments of silence, he turns to you, staring you down once again. “Just a month?” he asks and you offer a small smile as you hum in response. He doesn’t follow up, instead busying himself with placing the matrioshka doll down to look through your bottles of serums and moisturizers you laid out.

And again, you give him his moment, as he mindlessly rolls the bottles around looking between them as if he was memorizing them, before speaking up again. 

“I missed you too,” he scoffs but doesn’t turn around. “I never said i missed you,” he mutters, voice low as he places the bottle down and turns to you. “You don’t need to say it. I can feel it.” you tease and he doesn’t sass you. His feet bringing him to the side of the bed you were at as he stands above you. 

You look up at him as he simply stood, staring at you. His hand twitches at his side before he reaches up to twirl a small strand of hair between his fingers, you don’t stop or question him. His thumb caresses right under your jaw as he takes a quick glance at your lips. “Are you still mean?” he asks and it doesn’t take you more than a second to register what he means. “Yes.” you respond making him huff aggressively before stomping his way to your door. you‘re in a fit of laughter as you are left staring at the door he slammed on his way out of your room.

You shake your head as your laughter dies down, you place your book on your nightstand, too worn out to continue reading, and turn your light off before slipping under the cover. Unable to remove the smile off your face from seeing one of the people closest to you after so many years.

pending; chapter 2

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[lunarw0rks]

hear me out 🙃 riding soap for the first time

☾𓂃❛🍰❜┊ riding soap for the first time

warning(s): explicit content (18+), smut, p^rn w/ little plot, p in v sex, unprotected sex, breath play, established relationship, fem!reader, no use of y/n ♡ masterlist // requests // ask box

a/n: scotland foreverrrr!!!! (i live in delulu-land 24/7 and probably need meds)

johnny was good in bed; so satisfactorily it was almost infuriating. he had you wrapped around his fingers, yearning for him whenever the time was right — and he knew it.

despite all the dirty-mindedness he possessed, or his alarmingly high sex drive. he could be tender, observant to a fault — especially when intimacy was involved.

classic missionary was typically the way to go with him, and honestly, you were satisfied enough to forget about all the other positions that needed trying. typically you were rid of your clothes before the idea even arose, and soap was not going to turn down sex, no matter the location or position he found himself at the end.

currently, you found yourself laying between his legs, the back of your head against his lap as his legs caged you in. ❝almost done,❞ you said, pulling the needle through the other side of his blue shirt, in the midst of patching a tear. could he have bought a new one? ten new ones? yes, but then he would miss the opportunity to watch you with a needle between your lips.

you brought the end of the thread to your mouth as you turned around and made eye contact, using your teeth as scissors. ❝will this be alright for work?❞ you held up the section that once had a rip, a genuine question about your sewing skills.

his lips contorted into a satisfied purse, then he grabbed the shirt and set it down on the neighboring table. ❝think we're done with that, eh?❞ he couldn't care less about how his shirt looked, or anything else for that matter. you had unknowingly aroused him; a seemingly common theme whenever he was home... or, anywhere really.

you recognized the familiar glaze that clouded his vision, a nearly primal look as he motioned for you to come closer. climbing into his lap to make out wasn't new, by any means. what was? how he hadn't cupped your waist and flipped the position so he could hover. instead, the heated kissing merely progressed with you straddling him the entire time.

it was new, but not a discomfiting bind to be in. his hardened bulge, pressing against your inner thigh through his sweatpants. when he removed his lips for air, your foreheads remained pressed together as he flashed a pleased smile.

his hands cupped your waist as you pulled down his sweats and boxer simultaneously, exposing his erection under the dim lighting of the master bedroom. soap's mouth remained slightly agape as you sank your weight back on his lap, clothed heat pressed against him with just enough pressure to make the sensitivity agonizing.

he showed no sign of wanting to move. he wanted you on top of him, just like this. ❝you want me to...? you sure?❞ you whispered as you furrowed your brows. it seemed strange, how many times you two had sex, but never once had you rode him.

your look of uncertainty couldn't be hidden, even if you were the type to possess a poker face. not while his eyes were glued to you and your body.

❝aye, i do. it's better this way, bonnie.❞ he gave your hips a firm squeeze, a sly smirk now forming on his lips. in this position, nearly every part of you was on display for the taking.

well, how could you say no when he looked as if he could devour you whole? and by now, despite only kissing him, you had a familiar tension forming between your legs, too. you shifted around until you had rid yourself of your pajama bottoms, then you found the panties you were wearing, pulling them to the side until you exposed enough of your core to sink onto his length.

soap let out a guttural groan as you eased yourself onto him until you had swallowed his cock entirely. he wanted to let you fend for yourself for a bit until he couldn't fight the urge to take over again. you did only what you were familiar with, grinding your hips the same way you did when you would dry-hump him.

❝look at you, lass, taking all of me so well.❞ whatever you were doing, you had to be doing it decently. each rock of your hips got more desperate, as if the need to release became more important than how you looked, or even how you were performing.

the hands palming your hips slithered higher; one cupping your clothed breast, the other finding the base of your neck, giving it a tender squeeze. each time you ground, he would squeeze, then release again. it was a methodical constriction of your airflow, only he followed each unsteady movement you made, even when you would slow or hesitate. it wasn't enough to make you see spots, just enough to keep you secure.

his fingertips burned with each tightening, the breath control only urging the both of you to that edge. you gathered enough momentum to increase the pace a bit, constricting his waist with your thighs. what once was him sitting up, was now him flat on his back, only anchoring his hips up to clash with each descension of your needy core.

once your whimpers had grown loud enough, once you had gotten sloppy, he was satisfied with watching you. by now, he was just as close to his climax, with much less self-control. from your breast and neck, he gripped your hips now, pushing you down onto his cock at his desired pace — a snappy one.

he was pushing you down deeper than you could've done yourself, a quick, harsh push repeatedly. soap's eyes clenched shut as he felt you pulse around him, seconds off from finishing.

johnny let out a hiss as he opened his eyes again, needing to watch you come undone. when you began to shake and lose your balance, he sat up again for you to loop your arms around him, still a defeating bounce on his length. ❝christ, hen, you're shakin' already... go on, finish for me.❞ his hushed praise was enough to make your core tense its grip, plunging you deep into a momentous climax. one that came quicker than ever before, with the exception of when he used his tongue on you.

he seized your chin, groaning against your open mouth as he finished. soap was rarely vocal when he climaxed, but that didn't make it any less attractive to watch him fall apart. based on his starstruck appearance, he had gandered a new favorite position.

it wasn't until his upward thrusts had slowed, that he spoke again, ❝don't give me those eyes, love. ye ken i can't resist the ride of a lifetime.❞