#frame handle bag

[dinosaurcharcuterie]

A month ago, at one-ish in the morning, when all the best decisions are made, I was messing around in Tinkercad to recreate archeological finds of bag handle frames from iron age Scandinavian areas, when it struck me that a) I can just use the svg import setting to get these in there and b) I wasn't interested in using leather or wool, so why was I suddenly hell bent on using a historical shape? I could make my own as long as the general concept of "two big holes, attachment holes, some weight to the entire thing" was there. So... I made some rain clouds. In glow in the dark filament, because that's what was in the house.

Long post under break

Did I have anything remotely suitable for making a bag? Of course not. My knitting yarn is budget acrylic used for white elephant gifts and toddler whims, and my fabric stash is light cottons and stretch materials for dresses. But I vaguely remembered a V&A tutorial on boro that went at it from a "mend with what you have if you don't have sashiko thread and needles" perspective. I had a lot of scraps in the cabbage patch. I had, in a moment of madness, bought some truly awful polyester embroidery thread a few years before that was just sitting there. So, after patching together a flimsy backing, sorting on enough scraps to get to denim weight and yolo-ing together a lining to keep the thread heavy backing from snatching on every thing I owned, all that was left to do was a bit of embroidery. With chronic joint pain. Just as the seasons were changing.

It took a month, 64m of thread in 8 colors, and I chose to be stabbed repeatedly with straight pins over basting because stitching through this with sharp embroidery needles is painful in every sense of the word, and my memory wasn't good enough to patch this as I went, which is what you're supposed to do, apparently.

Things I learned from this stage: don't be like me and forget that boro shrinks your fabric, making your lining about 6cm too big after you've put in 4 inner pockets. Also don't put on the bottom as a part of your fabric piece. This was not fun to construct from this shape. Don't get your embroidery thread from Action, because boy, did this not want to split or sew without tangling. It frayed and pilled while being sewn at one arm's length at a time. Just splurge on sashiko thread, or at least DMC cotton if you follow me in this madness. Seven years of cross stitch under my belt, plus another five of helping assemble beginner kits for a secondary school, and I've never struggled this hard with just a bunch of running stitches. Thank mercy they're not supposed to be even.

Did I know that, if a lot of sources recommend you use certain materials, that might be habit, that might be parroting others--but it's usually because that is the least frustrating way to go about it? Intellectually, yes. Will this be the last time I choose to smother the little voice in my head reminding me of that? Not while the higher quality materials are less easily available.

Bad decisions made, I fumbled through. The only way to get it vaguely symmetrical was to first sew the vertical seam, them the other long side of the bottom, then the short sides. My overlocker didn't even blink when I shoved every fraying, uneven edge through it to keep this from entirely falling apart during use. It feels as solid as heavy canvas, but far softer. My sewing machine, which throws of a fit if anything is too thick or too tight a weave, didn't mind going through this, or over the knots keeping everything in place on the back. "Good enough works" in action, baby.

There was no easing the lining in prettily, so there's a lot of creases. And since all the embroidery is low quality polyester, I can't iron any part of this. Maybe that's for the better. I've got no idea what shape this would be if I went by the actual seam lines.

The only thing left to do was attach my cute little clouds... For which I found no tutorial. Or historical find pictures with enough fabric still attached. Plenty of archeological pictures of one line of big holes, but most people use either the holes meant for straps and sprang or the chunky holes for lots of loops. I'm sure they're learning from other people's mistakes, but those mistakes are severely undocumented with the state Google is in these days. Oh well. The historically accurate thing to do is work with what you have (more crappy embroidery thread) and use what techniques seem sensible based on what you've seen (Frixion pen to transfer the holes off the frame onto the lining and long, looping stitches).

And that's how, in a mere five weeks of work, you make a whimsical bag inspired by rain clouds over a stormy landscape.

Just gotta nip into town to get some flat hoodie thread for a strap.

Note to anyone reading this: it's now 8 hours after I've finished construction on this and I've realized that the sewing hole shape makes more sense if sewn/brute force appliqué'ed directly onto the bag instead of as loops over it.

Will my way work too? Guess I'll find out.

[chiropteracupola]

many thanks to my dear dead granddad for keeping one million beautifully conditioned perfectly sharp x-acto knives and a beautiful heavy chisel-handle that actually makes them usable.

ZERO thanks to my dear dead granddad for keeping them in a LIDLESS AND BROKEN BOX LOOSE IN A PLASTIC SHOPPING BAG

[chewablepebbles]

I've literally been going to at least one funeral of someone close to me every year since 2016 this is unsustainable! Do I make friends so quickly because I fear they'll leave so soon? I have like five hundred pounds of stuff from people that died and I can't get rid of it because I can't get new stuff with them. I'm so tired of being used to grief. When do I get to grieve for myself!

[cicidraws]

sobs, i got a twin mattress to downgrade and length-wise it is half a foot shorter than my frame

v annoying but i mean i dont think i can get a replacement, so ill havee to deal

[cherrychapati]

no your honour that's my emotional support scrunchie

[starkeyisthelastname]

I need apology sex with dealer!Rafe x reader. Oh I would just know he would go beyond to make his girl forgive him. He wouldn’t be able to handle causing her any type of hurt and he PUTS IN THAT WORK

#ovulationweek 😏

he can’t have his pretty girl be upset with him. 😩

You didn’t even remember why you had been upset with him in the first place. The frown you had when he had come through the door now gone as he buried his handsome face in your pussy. He couldn’t stand to see you pout and all he wanted was for you to forgive him. You were too goddamn pretty to cry, and he had to show you how sorry he was. He had never been one to see the point in eating pussy as he had always been selfish. With you though, he would gladly devour your sweet cunt until you creamed all over his tongue. You were so fucking beautiful, and he couldn’t wait to put his dick inside you.

Your whines above had him going, his pert nose buried perfectly against your clit as his tongue lapped up your leaking juices. “You know daddy’s sorry, yeah?” He’d mumble between licks, his blue eyes never leaving your face as he watched it contort in pleasure. “So… so… so… sorry baby.” He’d whisper in a tone that made your core flutter.

You wanted to protest, be mad again all over as he pulled away. You already missed the warmth of his head between your thighs, but knew you were about to feel warm in a completely different way. You watched with heavy eyes, lash extensions fluttering as he stood up straight. As much as you loved seeing him on his knees for you, his massive frame in all its glory was something else. His large hands came to the back of your thighs, gently pulling your hips down further towards the edge of the bed. “Come here mama, daddy’s gonna show you how sorry he is.”

Oh and he was as the sounds of his sculpted hips smacking into yours filled the room to mix in with the same sounds as your gushy hole and cries of pleasure. Your fresh set dug into the soft sheets, pretty toes curling against his muscled back from him pounding you out with his thick pipe. His expensive chain dangled in your face as he laid into you, his buzzcut already damp with sweat as he was absolutely drilling your shit in.

“Yeah… can’t have my pretty girl upset. Can I? Daddy loves you so fucking much mama. You know I’ll do anything for you. Give you whatever you want.” His said in a raspy voice as he stared down at you.

You knew you were about to make a mess and there was no stopping it. You tried to find the words to warn him, but only could get as far as tapping the tips of your glittery acrylics against his abs. He looked down just in time to watch your pussy spasm around his fat length as you began to squirt not only on him but on yourself as well. He let out a breathless laugh, being covered in your sweetness and watching you shudder against the mattress only riled him up more. “Fuck…daddy’s gonna nut all up inside your pretty pussy.” He groaned, jaw falling open slightly as he felt his lower stomach tighten.

It was hard to stay mad at a man who looked like that, calling you pretty while he filled you up with his hot cum. Not to mention once he caught his breath, asking you to pull up the Chanel bag you wanted on his phone.

[misswynters]

Steel and sunshine

sevika x ditz! reader / short drabble

no warnings just you being annoying and sevika putting up with you

requested by @gravegoer <3

Zauns sprawling streets were filled with the hum of industry, the hiss of steam, and the faint green glow of shimmer pouring from narrow alleyways. The air hung heavy with a metallic tang, and the rattle of machinery from the Undercity’s workshops created a chaotic symphony. It was chaotic, grimy, and dangerous. A place that seemed to churn out desperation as naturally as it did smog. In the heart of it all, Sevika sat at her usual corner of The Last Drop, nursing a glass of something strong enough to peel paint.

Her steel arm rested on the table, catching the flicker of neon lights overhead. She was a picture of quiet intensity: sharp eyes scanning the bar, her jaw set in irritation at the chaos around her. She could handle a fight breaking out or someone trying to swindle her. What she couldn’t handle, though, was the sound of your voice cutting through the din like sunshine piercing a storm cloud. “Sevika!”

She groaned quietly, closing her eyes for a moment as she prepared herself for the whirlwind that was you. When she opened them, there you were, skipping toward her with all the oblivious cheer of someone who didn’t belong in a place like this. “What now?” she muttered, her tone already laced with exasperation.

You plopped down into the chair across from her, beaming as if you hadn’t just walked through Zaun’s most dangerous streets without a care in the world. “You’ll never guess what I found today!”

“Let me guess,” Sevika said, her voice flat. “Something useless?”

You gasped, clutching your chest like she’d just shot you. “How dare you? It’s not useless!” You rummaged through your bag, your fingers brushing past who-knows-what before triumphantly pulling out a small, rusted music box. Its paint was chipped, and the mechanism looked like it hadn’t worked in years. “Look! Isn’t it cute?”

Sevika raised an eyebrow, her patience already teetering on the edge. “You’re risking your life out there for this?”

“Of course!” you said, completely unfazed. “I thought you’d like it.”

“I don’t like junk,” she said flatly, though her gaze lingered on the object longer than she’d admit.

You leaned forward, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re lying. I can tell you secretly think it’s cool.”

Sevika groaned, her metal fingers tapping against the table in frustration. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Keep me around forever?” you said with a grin, propping your chin on your hand.

“You’re exhausting,” she muttered, though the corners of her mouth twitched upward in a reluctant smile.

Not long after, Sevika found herself walking alongside you through the crowded streets of Zaun, her broad frame serving as a shield against the jostling crowd. She wasn’t sure how she’d ended up in this situation again, but you had a way of dragging her along. Your sheer persistence overpowering her better judgment.

“Did you eat today?” she asked abruptly, her sharp tone betraying the faintest hint of concern.

“Oh! I had some bread earlier,” you said brightly. “And maybe a candy bar?”

Sevika stopped dead in her tracks, her glare making you shrink slightly. “That’s not food. Come on.”

You blinked, confused. “Where are we going?”

“To get you something real before you pass out,” she grumbled, taking your arm and steering you toward a food stall. The smell of sizzling dumplings filled the air as Sevika ordered for you, her tone curt but efficient. She handed the vendor a few coins before shoving the steaming plate into your hands.

“Sit,” she ordered, pointing to a nearby bench.

You obeyed, settling onto the seat and swinging your legs like a child as you dug in. The first bite was heavenly, and you made a small noise of appreciation that made Sevika smirk despite herself.

“You’re amazing, Sev,” you said between mouthfuls, your words slightly muffled.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she scolded, sitting beside you.

You swallowed quickly, flashing her a wide grin. “Sorry. You’re just so good at taking care of me.”

“Someone has to,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“You’re like a big, grumpy teddy bear,” you teased, nudging her side.

She gave you a flat look. “A teddy bear?”

“Yeah! You act all tough, but deep down, you’re just a big softie.”

“Keep talking like that, and I’ll leave you here,” she warned, though the faintest trace of amusement lingered in her voice.

Later, back at Sevika’s apartment, the quiet hum of Zaun’s nightlife served as background noise. The space was sparse and functional, just like her. But tucked into corners and sitting on shelves were small reminders of your influence. There was a cracked vase you’d insisted on saving, a tiny ceramic dog you swore looked just like her, and now the rusted music box, which you’d proudly placed on the shelf next to the others.

“Look at it,” you said, stepping back to admire your handiwork. “It’s perfect.”

“It’s junk,” Sevika replied, though her tone lacked the usual bite.

“Sentimental junk,” you corrected, turning to grin at her.

She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You’re lucky I put up with you.”

“You’re lucky I’m so charming,” you shot back, sticking out your tongue.

Sevika shook her head, unable to keep the smirk off her face. “Ridiculous.”

You plopped onto her worn-out couch, kicking off your shoes and making yourself comfortable. “So, what do we do now?”

“I work. You stay out of the way,” she said, already moving toward her workbench.

“Boring,” you replied, flipping through a magazine you’d found on the coffee table. The two of you fell into a companionable silence, Sevika tinkering with her mechanical arm while you lazily read. But after a while, your thoughts drifted, and the question that had been nagging at you all day finally slipped out.

“Sevika?” You said softly as your eyes still on the maganize that you were reading.

“What?” she replied as she continued to tinker her metal arm, completely immersed in what she was doing. “Do you think I’m annoying?”

The question caught her off guard, and she turned to look at you. Putting the tool that was on her hand on the desk. “Where the hell is this coming from?”

You shrugged, suddenly finding the magazine very interesting. “I dunno. I just… sometimes I feel like I get on your nerves.”

Sevika sighed, setting down her tools and walking over to sit beside you. “You do,” she said bluntly, making you gape at her. Before you could protest, she added, “But I don’t mind.”

“Really?” you asked, your voice small.

“Really,” she said, her tone softer now. “You keep things… interesting.”

A slow smile spread across your face. “You’re such a softie.”

“Don’t push it,” she warned, though there was no malice in her words.

You leaned your head against her shoulder, letting the cool metal of her arm press against your cheek. “Thanks, Sev.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, reaching up to ruffle your hair. “Just don’t get used to it.”

But you both knew it was already too late.

banner: @anitalenia

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[kxsalt]

Handcuffs and rope are tucked into his backpack. The man rides the train to her house. A brief glimpse of fear cuts into him as she opens the door. “Hi! Thanks for coming!” The girl looks beautiful as always. She wraps him in a tight hug. She smells like lavender. Leading her friend inside, she chatters about her day.

The man sits at the kitchen table and watches her scurry around. She was always like this, full of life and energy. It was intoxicating. Her innocent giggles and chipper anecdotes had entranced him long ago. “I wanna show you some art I’ve been making! Oh! And you can meet my plants!” He can hear passerby from the street outside. The man slides the window shut.

“Can you help me with this?” Her weak hands twist around a jar lid. Standing next to her, he towers over the girl. A satisfying pop follows. He’s a lot stronger than her. She thanks him and prepares a snack. “I rearranged my room – come see!” The girl’s sanctuary is as cute and chaotic as she is. The headboard of her bed has open slats. He could tie something to them.

She drops her phone on the unmade bed and moves to her dresser. The man stealthily pushes her phone between the bed and the frame. It would be hard to find in an emergency. Watching her light some incense, he admires her body. “Today has been such a good day~ <3” A pang of guilt touches his soul. The man pushes it down. He’s already made his decision.

The girl spins around as aromatic smoke floats around her. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get something from my bag.” She steps in close to him and stands on her tiptoes. Her lips touch his in an affectionate kiss. Seeing his shocked expression, the girl blushes. “I’m sorry! I should have asked first…” She’s flustered and embarrassed. “…I just always thought you were really hot…” He touches her frail body. “…and I was wondering if you’d be okay with… hooking up?”

The pair collapses onto the bed, kissing and groping each other. She rubs his cock as he nibbles on her neck. The scent of lavender washes over him. He pulls off her dress without a fight. He takes off her panties without ripping them. She sucks his cock without crying. When he fingers her pussy, her legs open wide instead of squeezing shut.

She holds onto the headboard as he ruts into her. Eager to be a good fuck, the girl talks dirty to him. “You can do whatever you want to me.” The man grins, thrusting deep. “Oh, I know.” She feels even better than he imagined. Losing himself in the moment, he grips her wrists and pins her into the pillow. The girl giggles, enjoying his rough handling. He fucks her as hard as he wants. Always enthusiastic, she takes him well.

Strong hands hold her throat. Weak hands push against his body for a moment. She gives in, letting him choke her as he cums in her pussy. The girl gasps as he relaxes, laying on top of her. The couple rest in warm silence. The girl’s fingers stroke along his back. “It’s so stuffy in here… I thought I left a window open.” He shrugs. “Have you seen my phone?” She searches the bed as his cum dribbles from her cunt. “Maybe it slid down the side.”

They cuddle and enjoy their pillow talk. “So, what made you want to have sex with me?” She looks for some easy validation. He obliges her. “Everything about you. You’re fun, beautiful, interesting. You smell like lavender.” The girl wiggles cheerfully, enjoying his praise. “What made you want to have sex with me?”

She looks bashful, and cuddles into his arms. The girl lays her head on his chest.

“I always feel really safe with you…”

[nereidprinc3ss]

slumber party

in which there's only one bed. fem bau!reader x spencer reid

fluff! warnings/tags: dark humor, (the word molest is used jokingly once but in my defense your honor its completely on brand for early seasons cm humor, if u cancel me u have to cancel the whole cast those are the rules, its just a joke cause reader always flirts w him aggressively, pls don't come for me i have a wife and children and three boyfriends to take care of,) mutual pining, bullying and death threats as flirting, they love each other so much and bicker like children, glasses spencer, (moans), emily and rossi are mentioned bc canon means fuck all to me, i think thats it but this is my most out of pocket duo so if i'm wrong lmk a/n: just a silly little thing that i cooked up, not a masterpiece but i think its cute!! I hope u enjoy!! lmk what you think!! looooveee youuuu

“Oh, there is no way.”

Your duffel bag hits the dingy carpet as Spencer is still closing the door behind you. 

“What? Is it—”

You give him a look over your shoulder, eyebrows raised as if to say, what are you going to do about this?

But he only manages to meet your eyes for a split second before they’re back to the singular queen bed, darting over the white sheets and pillows like he might find another mattress if he looks hard enough. 

Sharing a room with Spencer, you can handle. You've done it before. Whenever the team has to pair up at a hotel, you two are an obvious choice. And while you occasionally butt heads, mostly you adore each other and it's great.

But sharing a bed is a whole other situation.

One you were not prepared for. And evidently, neither is he.

Watching his big anxious eyes flit around the room nervously, you feel sort of bad for your reaction. You know you can be a bit… abrasive, sometimes. 

“It’s fine, I’ll just—I’ll see if I can share a bed with Emily or JJ in their room—”

Just then there’s a knock at the door. Spencer looks relieved to have something else to focus on, turning back around and quickly undoing the latch again before opening the door to reveal your favorite raven-haired SSA. Emily leans past the doorjamb, eyes immediately honing in on the awkward sleeping arrangement. 

“Oh my god! You guys too?”

“What?” You and Spencer ask at the same time. Emily raises her eyebrows at this and glances between you, but otherwise doesn’t comment. 

“Me and JJ only have the one bed. I thought it might just have been us.”

You frown. There goes your plan of sharing a room with them. 

“What about Morgan and Garcia?”

Spencer snorts.

“Something tells me Penelope wouldn’t be too torn up about it if that's the case.”

“Hotch and Rossi?”

The room goes quiet and a little chilly as the thought disturbs everyone equally. Emily frowns deeply.

“I don’t even… I can’t picture that.”

“Can we please not try to picture it?”

“Great. Okay, well. I just wanted to make sure everyone is suffering equally. Good luck, champs.”

“Thanks,” Spencer mutters dryly. Emily smiles, eyes darting between the two of you for just a moment too long, before pushing off the door frame and disappearing from sight. Once the door is closed again, a heavy silence ensues. “I’ll… I can take the floor—”

“It’s fine, Spencer. I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor. We’re both grown-ups. Besides, we like each other, right? It’ll be like a slumber party.”

“I’ve never had one,” he admits. His glasses slip further down his nose as he frowns. Your fingers itch to push them back up. 

“Then I’m happy to be your first,” you tease, facing him fully with your hand on your hip and barely resisting the urge to add, I’ll be gentle. “Do you want the shower first or can I?”

Spencer has a habit of looking you up and down like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. Some might find it odd, but his utter lack of social graces is, lucky for him, incredibly endearing to you. 

“You can have it first,” he says, meeting your eyes again. “Just don’t do that thing where you get the entire bathroom soaking wet.”

“Aw. But I love doing that. It’s my favorite part,” you tease, scooping up your bag once more.

Twenty minutes later you’re emerging from the bathroom with damp hair, clad in loose shorts and a college hoodie. 

“Nice outfit,” Spencer says from the spinny-chair at the desk, examining your outfit choice with a scrutiny you wish you’d been prepared for. Really, you wish you’d known ahead of time you’d have a roommate and brought some alternate sleeping clothes. “I had no idea you felt so passionately about… Scooby Doo?”

“Shut up right now,” you grit, tossing your bag into the corner of the room and tugging your hoodie down over your cartoon-patterned shorts as far as you can. 

“What?” He’s laughing as he brushes past you on his way into the bathroom, bearing his own bag. “It’s a good look for you.”

Your face is burning as you choose the side of the bed furthest from the door. Springs creak underneath your weight as you sink down, sitting with your legs hanging off the side for a moment before swinging them up onto the mattress, leaning against the headboard and side-eyeing the empty space next to you. There’s really not very much of it. The bed feels even smaller than it looks. 

From the bathroom you hear the sound of the shower squeaking and starting up again—a cacophony of droplets against tile on the other side of the wall. You try not to be nervous as you imagine Spencer filling the space beside you in just a few minutes, hair wet and in pajamas. And yet you spend each second wondering if he’s almost done, wondering if the shower will finally sputter to a halt, and once it does, wondering how long it’ll be before he’s out again. It’s ridiculous how impatient you're getting—and by the time you finally watch the door knob twist you feel crazy. 

“I think that was your longest shower yet, Dr. Reid.”

The teasing affords you a moment to ogle him head to toe, taking in his choice of pajamas—tonight, familiar plaid pants and an MIT crewneck—as well as his hair which has already begun to dry. Briefly you wonder if he does that thing guys do, where they lean down and haphazardly dry their hair with a towel because they have no concern for its texture whatsoever. But you kind of doubt it, because his hair always looks so soft. 

“You were sitting here waiting for me?” He chuckles, and honestly you’d been expecting a shyer response. But you adapt quickly. 

“Maybe I was. Big spoon or little spoon?”

“Ha-ha.” He opens a drawer in the dresser and begins unpacking his clothes into it. It's a funny habit of his. You never unpack your duffel. “You took the better side of the bed.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m the woman. I get to do that.”

“Well you should know that if an intruder breaks in, I’m not fighting him off. You’d probably have a better chance than me.”

“And my chances will be even better if he’s distracted with you first.”

“So I’m just bait?” He scoffs, looking back at you. Strands of wet hair hang so prettily around his face, like the perfect frame around a work of art. You smile sweetly from your spot on the bed before playfully biting at the air in his direction. The message goes unspoken but reads loud and clear. Of course you are. You make such good bait. 

That gets a blush out of him and he has nothing else to say as he turns back to his drawer. Happily you lean back against the headboard, stretching your legs out and bouncing slightly in place. Beneath you the mattress springs groan and squeak in protest. 

“I hope you're not going to be this irritating all night.”

It's clearly lighthearted, but you promptly stop and frown at his back. 

“Call me irritating again and see where you end up sleeping tonight.”

“I just don’t see how you’re even more hyperactive than usual right now. Has anybody ever told you that you’re crepuscular?” Spencer asks, finally sliding the drawer shut and going to shut the overhead light off. Your eyes narrow. 

“Obviously nobody has told me that.”

“It means y—”

“I’m most energetic within the few hours around dusk and dawn. Contrary to your belief, Dr. Reid, other people are also capable of looking up words in a dictionary and remembering what they mean. Are you going to stand in the corner all night or are you gonna come to bed?”

“I am,” he scoffs, clearly embarrassed and shy and embarrassed of being shy. “I’m just… you look like you kick in your sleep. And hog the blankets.”

You shrug, folding your knees to your chest and hugging them quaintly. 

“I’ve never had any complaints. In fact, you should be so lucky to share a bed with me. All five star reviews, baby.” 

You toss a suggestive wink in at the end, which seems garish enough to break the tension so that Spencer can stop lingering in the corner like a sleep-paralysis demon and move to carefully take his place next to you. He almost mirrors your position, but his legs are too long to quite manage your level of compactness and so they simply fold underneath him. A few silent moments go by, in which you have the dumbest smile on your face and you keep glancing over to the side, waiting for him to be looking back at you. 

“This is already the least relaxed I have ever been in a bed.”

“Good thing we’re not going to sleep yet.”

Finally he looks at you, a casual mix of hesitance, concern, and moderate curiosity coloring his features. 

“We’re not?”

“Oh, my god, Spencer,” you snort. “I’m not gonna molest you. We have to do slumber party stuff, remember?”

He flushes again, glancing at the digital clock in his bedside table. 

“But it’s late. We should go to sleep.”

“At slumber parties you have to stay up until you literally can’t keep your eyes open anymore. Those are the rules. I don’t make them.”

Still, your insistence that you follow the international code of sleepover law goes unabided by Spencer. He simply leans over to flick off his lamp, bathing the room in darkness. 

“I appreciate the effort,” he says, and your eyes haven’t adjusted but you can hear the rustle of sheets and blankets as he gets under them, “but unfortunately we have to be awake and alert in five hours.”

“You’re no fun,” you huff, but climb under your own side of the cover and scoot down until you’re flat on your back, covered in blanket and hands folded on your sternum. 

Spencer doesn’t respond. 

It’s silent for maybe five minutes, during which your brain doesn’t slow down at all. Maybe you are crepuscular. Or slightly nocturnal. You have nothing but energy. 

In an attempt to get comfortable, you try adjusting your position.

The mattress squeaks. 

You do it again. 

Another squeak. 

A second goes by, and now you’re intentionally jostling about, squeaking the mattress as much as you can. 

“Would you stop that?” Spencer says, voice already gravelly with sleep. You manage, but you’re already devolving into a fit of giggles. “I’m going to smother you with this pillow,” he threatens, but you hear the disgruntled smile curling his words. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just not in the mood to rest.”

Another moment passes. He sighs deeply. You smile into the dark. 

“What are you in the mood for?” He asks flatly, and you’ve won. 

“Tell me a secret,” you immediately demand in a hushed tone, flipping on your side to face his back. “Something you’ve never told anyone else.”

“I don’t—”

“Shh! You have to whisper it. Those are the slumber party rules.”

“I don’t have any secrets,” he whispers, clearly flustered, and to your delight, rolling to face the ceiling. “None that you’d want to hear.”

“Oh, now that’s just not true. You’re an enigma, Spencer Reid. You fascinate me.”

You’re only sort of kidding. 

“I… fascinate you?”

“Completely. You know, ever since you moved your desk across from mine I get distracted just staring at you and wondering what you’re thinking about. But you’re very… hard to read, sometimes. I think it’s because you’re a Scorpio.”

“The position of the stars at the time I was born has no bearing on my personality.”

“Fine,” you concede, still in a glorified stage whisper. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t display the archetypal Scorpio traits. You’re all brooding, mysterious. Kinda, I don't know... intense and sexy and unknowable…”

“Sexy?” He laughs, breaking the whisper rule. You grin and let it slide. You’d hoped he would catch that one. 

“Hey,” you snap, losing the smile immediately and lightly shoving against what you hope is his shoulder. “You’re supposed to be telling me a secret, damnit. I won’t let your wiles and charm distract me from getting what I want.”

“When have you ever let anything stop you from getting what you want?”

Truly, your cheeks are going to start aching with this constant back and forth between poker-faced and huge Cheshire smile. 

“Stop flirting and answer my question, Reid.”

With the amount of times you’ve made him sigh tonight he must be dizzy. You chew your lip apprehensively in the silence, picking a loose thread on your pillow. It’s so pitch black in the room, you can’t see him where he lies only a few meager inches from you. But you can feel his presence. You can feel the unexpected bass to his voice when he’s tired and speaking this lowly, which you’ve never heard before.

“All the secrets I’ve never told anyone are just… depressing.”

Your heart sinks a little at the way he swallows between words, like that in and of itself was hard to admit. Unthinkingly your hand slides into the small gap of white cotton between the two of you. 

“Not very good slumber party material, I think,” he laughs self-consciously. 

“You’d be surprised.” 

The sentiment comes quieter and more serious than you’ve been all night. If only you had the words to tell him that he can tell you anything. That you want to hold his secrets for him under lock and key. That you would never, ever do anything less than offer him kindness and support—even if it doesn’t always seem that way when you’re teasing him. 

“Do you have any secrets you’ve never told anyone else?” He murmurs eventually, so soft it could kill you. 

And you do. There are plenty of dark ones, probably not all dissimilar from those he’d elected not to share only a moment ago. 

But you don’t bring those up. 

Instead, you decide to admit to something silly. Still, it makes you nervous as you feel it coming loose in your chest. You’ve really never told anyone this, and it’s perhaps more vulnerable than you’d realized before the words were already leaving your mouth. 

“I, have…” You pause to laugh at yourself, and continue on. “I have a stuffed dragon that I take with me on every single case.”

“You do?” Spencer laughs, so loud and unexpected it almost hurts your ears, angling his head toward you. Blood rushes to your face. 

“Yes. He usually sleeps in bed with me. He’s an excellent listener and has been the origin of several of my most genius breakthroughs. You remember Gibson Cooper?”

“Family annihilator from Houston?” 

“Correct. He’s in prison because Oscar helped me make the Cook Creek Campground connection between the O’Hara and Diangelo families.”

“You have a stuffed profiler dragon named Oscar? Is he here?”

“He’s—I mean, I wasn’t expecting to share a room with someone.”

“So he’s in your bag.”

“Yes,” you seethe, “and I will not be introducing you to him. He doesn’t do well with men.”

“You are genuinely psychotic.”

You huff.

“Fine. I’m sorry I told you anything.”

You’re about to roll over onto your other side—but Spencer surprises you by catching the hand that had been outstretched in his direction. He carefully intertwines your fingers and squeezes gently. 

“You’re right. That was mean. Thank you for telling me about Oscar.” His tone is surprisingly teasing, and you’re so uncharacteristically flustered by this rare show of physicality and affection that you can’t muster an adequate comeback. Spencer doesn’t seem to mind filling your silence, though, sounding a little more solemn now. “I’m sorry I don’t have any secrets for you.”

The way his voice gets all thin and scratchy sometimes—it’s like the earnest sincerity just pours out of him. He can’t control it. He can’t be anyone other than who he is. Maybe that’s a part of why you love him so much. You wonder if he knows how much you love him. It’s not exactly a secret—anyone on the team would be able to tell as much. You’ve been relentlessly teased for the way you are with him. For your batting lashes and your lingering touches and your unabashed flirting. But beneath it all is true affection, and nobody doubts that. 

“It’s okay,” you decide with a squeeze of your own, after a moment of deliberation. “You’ll think of something. ’Cause, y’know—you’re stuck with me for at least a few more days.”

“Oh, god,” he laughs, and releases your hand, rolling over to face away from you. But you don’t mind. You’ll get lots more time to invade his personal space over the coming week or so. “Goodnight.”

“Sweet dreams,” you sing-song, turning away to face the wall with what is perhaps your biggest, stupidest smile yet.

[emiliaoleary]

Hooking rugs that look like dogs

Here's how I do it:

The process I use is called rug hooking (not latch hook or punch needle or tufting, though it is the forerunner of the latter two techniques). Rugs are hooked by pulling loops of fabric strips or yarn through the holes of a base fabric with a coarse open weave, like burlap, or linen, or rug warp. The loops are pulled through the fabric with a squat-handled hook whose business end is shaped like a crochet hook.  There are no knots and the loops aren't sewed down in any way.  The whole thing stays put just by the tension of all those loops packed together in the weave of the foundation fabric.

This isn't a true detailed tutorial but a walk-through of my particular process. The same information is on my web page, emilyoleary.com .

I hook with yarn, rather than with cut strips of wool fabric, which is what many rug hookers use.  I can get a looser, more organic distribution of loops with yarn than I could with wool strips, which are hooked in neat lines. 

Mostly I use wool yarn. In terms of yarn weight, I can use DK, worsted, or Aran.  If I'm using thicker yarn, I leave more holes un-hooked; if I'm using finer yarn, I hook more densely or double up lengths of it.  I particularly like using single ply yarns (like Brown Sheep Lamb's Pride or Malabrigo Worsted).  I don't keep count, but I think I usually use around two dozen types and colors of yarn per dog.  

This is my yarn wall in my apartment. Mostly brown and gray yarn!

I start from a small drawing in my sketchbook, then I head to FedEx office to use a copy machine, blowing up the drawing repeatedly and experimenting with how big the dog rug should be. 

After transferring the image onto my linen, I immediately go over it with Sharpie, because the Saral is really difficult to see and really easy to rub off.

The rug is held taut by a PVC quilting frame that I set on my lap.

I push my hook down through the fabric with my right hand and my left hand stays below the fabric and guides the yarn while I pull it up and through with the hook. Not every hole in the fabric is hooked. Hooking every hole would make the rug too dense. I do hook pretty densely, though-- If you pick up one of my rugs you’ll see they have a slight curl to them, which is because they’re hooked pretty tight. I'm using all different weights and types of yarn, so it's a challenge to keep the overall tension even.

I hook my loops at varying heights to create a very low relief. Sometimes I trim the loops to make them fluffier or wispier or to shape a particular part. I look at a reference photo while I work and pull out and redo sections a lot.

My q-snap frame can accommodate the growing dog rug. I have extenders to make it bigger and I can clamp around my hooking.

The back of a rug looks like lines of little stitches. The lines are little worm trails snaking around because lines of hooking are not supposed to cross over each other. It's important to start a new length of yarn rather than cross over a stitch you already made! I read this when I first started and took it to heart. It makes it much easier to undo and redo hooking if you have to (and I redo sections A Lot). It also keeps the back from getting too bulky and resulting in uneven wear on the back of a functional rug that gets floor use.

When I’m done hooking everything I turn the rug over and brush watered-down Sobo glue on the edges of the dog, making sure to get one or two of the outermost lines of hooking. I do a couple coats of this thinned out glue. I'm careful not to use so much that it seeps to the front of the rug. When the glue is dry I cut the rug out, but I don't cut so close that the loops don't have any linen to keep them in.

​ It generally takes me at least several months to finish one dog rug. My hooking frame and yarn bag are very portable (though bulky) so I can hook out and about at coffee shops or the library or a brewery if there's enough space and light.

Hooking in the wild makes me an ambassador for making things in general and rug hooking in particular. I answer people's questions and always emphasize how relatively easy it is to get started hooking. Sometimes I get anxious that other people will hook rugs that look like mine but better, but I think that working in a traditional medium means you should share your knowledge for the good of the craft.

[tteotlma]

Sugar and Skin

1. First Encounter || Next

Bucky’s never been sure if normalcy is something he’s cut out for. But when he meets you—a baker with a pretty smile—he starts to think maybe he could try.

TattooArtist!Bucky x Baker!Reader (1.4kw)

tw: 18+ MDNI, mild language, subtle tension, implied attraction, slow-burn, strangers to friends to lovers a/n: happy new year! this year i'd like to actually begin and complete a multi-parter story so this is my attempt!

---

“Welcome in!” Bucky heard as he stepped into the bustling cafe shop. The smell of freshly brewed coffee, and baked bread quickly engulfed him. He looked around for the source of the voice while taking in the neatly curated shelves of novels, mismatched wooden tables and the large handwritten chalkboard menu boasting about an array of the day’s specials. Despite its charm, Bucky felt heavily out of place in his chipped leather jacket, and mud cracked boots. 

With the patrons weaving past him like he was another display in the shop he continued scanning the area noticing a few stray cats lounging throughout the space. They basked in the early afternoon sunlight that poured through the large windows. One, a sleek gray cat with white mittens and socks stretched lazily on the windowsill, while another a white cat with piercing blue eyes, watched the room with curious intensity.

The customers greeted the felines as they entered the shop and followed the line that formed at the counter where a young man with boyish charm and unruly brown hair was expertly managing the register. Meanwhile a man with a clean shaven jawline and an infectious grin moved confidently between the counter and the coffee makers. 

“You need some help?”

Bucky turned to the voice, finding himself at the end of the display case with a woman on the other side. Her hair was pinned up in a loose bun, a few stray strands escaping to frame her face. She barely paid him any mind as she deftly unloaded a giant tray of assorted pastries and bread into the glass showcase, her movements quick and practiced. The faint smudges of flour on her apron and the way she handled each item with care hinted at her role in crafting the delicacies.

“You look a little lost,” she said without looking up, her tone teasing but not unkind. "Can I help you find something, or are you just here to admire the cats?” she asked, finally glancing up at him. Her gaze was sharp but warm, assessing him with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

 Her teasing tone caught him off guard, making him glance up sharply. His ears seemed to perk slightly, before he quickly refocused. “Pick up,” he said, his voice low and clipped, offering her a tight-lipped smile that was more reflex than intentional. 

She let out a small hum. “Name?” 

“Steve.” 

“Oh yes–” Her demeanor instantly changed as she put the tray down, wiping her hands on her apron. “Let me get that for you.” Her hands masterfully opened a paper bag with clear cellophane, and slid open the sliding door to the showcase.

“Sam!” She yelled, causing Bucky to jolt. “I need Steven’s special.” She called out, and Bucky's eyes flicked back to her. Steven.

He heard a faint reply from across the cafe commotion and watched as she used the metal tongs to grab two bear claws from the wax paper lined tray. Bucky almost let out a snort but instead, he opted to shove his hands in his pockets, glancing down to his boots. He watched as crumbs of dirt crumbled from his shoe and littered the linoleum floor.

“What’s the Steven Special?” Bucky suddenly heard himself say. He looked at her through his lashes. He watched a small smile sneak across her lips. 

“A medium white chocolate macchiato, with two bear claws.” She said, fingers crinkling the bag shut as she slid it across the clear surface. This time Bucky let out a snort. Before he could thank her, she went back to unloading her discarded tray. He hesitated on grabbing the bag. 

“So you’re the new guy then?” She asked suddenly, quickly glancing at him. He looked at her. “Stevie's mentioned he’s expecting a new comer, and I’ve never seen you before so—” she explained. Stevie.

“Then yeah.” He gave a curt smile, reaching for the bag on the counter. 

“Thought so,” she said, her tone a hint lighter now as she turned back to her work. “He’s been talking ‘bout you for weeks, you know.”

“Nothing bad I hope.” 

 She turned to set down the now empty tray, glancing over her shoulder, a glint in her eye. “Depends on your definition of bad.” Her tone was playful but laced with just enough intrigue to make him pause. She spins swiftly, closing the display case. 

“Nah,” She shrugs with a smirk, “He’s just psyched you're here, it’s kinda cute.” 

Bucky raised an eyebrow. She waves a hand in the air.

“He’s just got this way of talking about things—”

“Order up.” 

The sudden burst out causing the both of you to abruptly turn toward the man holding out an oat-colored to-go cup.

The woman cleared her throat, shifting back to allow space for the man to step in. Her smirk faded into a polite, neutral expression, her focus now on adjusting a tray of napkins nearby.

“Steven’s special,” the man announced, his grin wide and easy, breaking through the tension that had lingered just a moment earlier.

Bucky’s eyes lingered on her for a moment longer before he turned toward the man, who was now leaning casually against the counter, holding the cup out as if he were presenting a prized trophy.

Bucky nodded and reached for the cup, his movements deliberate. “Appreciate it,” he said, his voice steady. 

“No problem,” the man replied, his tone light and teasing. “Better get it to him quick, he’s been talking about the claws all morning.” 

“Noted,” Bucky muttered, though his gaze flickered back toward the woman, who was now bent over another display, her attention fixed on her work as if the earlier exchange had never happened.

The man cleared his throat sharply, drawing Bucky’s attention. When Bucky turned toward him, he was already side-eyeing the woman before shifting his gaze back to Bucky with a deadpan expression. It wasn’t accusatory, but there was a challenge in the look—like he’d caught Bucky doing something he shouldn’t be.

Bucky’s brow twitched in response, his face otherwise impassive, and he adjusted the bag in his hand.

“Thanks again,” he said curtly, stepping back from the counter.

Sam held his gaze for a beat longer, then turned his attention away from him.

Bucky stepped toward the door, the hum of the café enveloping him once more. His grip tightened slightly on the bag as he moved, but something tugged at his attention, making him glance back one last time.

The man was now leaning against the counter, his posture relaxed, but his head tilted toward the woman. Whatever he’d said caused her to laugh softly, her shoulders shaking with the motion. The earlier ease in her posture had returned, her movements efficient and unbothered, as though their exchange had been nothing more than a routine part of her day.

She brushed a strand of hair from her face as she replied, her voice lost in the café’s hum. They shared another laugh.

Bucky’s jaw tightened, though his face betrayed nothing as he turned back toward the door. Pushing it open, he stepped into the cool air outside, the bell above jingling faintly as the door closed behind him.

As he walked down the street, the warmth of the café began to fade, but the soft intensity of the exchange lingered. He shook his head with a quiet huff of air, the bag crinkling faintly in one hand while the other held the to-go cup. His boots scuffed lightly against the pavement as he approached a sleek, dark car parked a few steps ahead.

Bucky unlocked it with a press of a button, the quiet beep breaking the stillness. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he set the paper bag on the passenger side and the cup in the holder before resting his hands on the steering wheel.

For a moment, he sat there, the hum of the café replaying in his mind. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if to clear it.

With a twist of the key, the engine purred to life, the quiet power of the car grounding him. As he pulled out onto the street, the cool air rushing through the window carried away the lingering warmth of the café—but not entirely.

---

Next

a/n: I know there's barely anything there but I have an idea and im jsut trying to roll with it -- so if you have any ideas let me know! i’m begging — pls reblog to support!

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Baby Daddy || Jacob Elordi x reader

Summary: Jacob being a protective dad 😌

Warnings: fem!reader

Wc: 475

A/n: can we just agree that Jacob holding a small baby in his HUGE arms would be the cutest and hottest thing ever 😃😭 I need to see this irl. Posting a Coryo fic later today!!! Also really need to do a Jacob Elordi masterlist lol, will do later today!

Emerging from the grocery store, you held bags in both hands while Jacob effortlessly juggled your one-year-old daughter in one arm and a bag of groceries in the other.

The California sun casts a warm glow as you make your way to the car, Jacob holding your precious daughter, Sydney, in his strong arms. His large frame makes her appear even tinier as he cradles her close.

As you approach the car, Jacob’s keen eyes spot a group of paparazzi in the distance. He instinctively shields Sydney’s face, a protective gesture you’ve both mastered in these public moments.

Jacob glances at you, concern in your eyes, “We should be fine, they’re far away anyways,” Jacob assures you as you unlock the car.

As Jacob secures Sydney in the car seat, you glance over at the paparazzi. Some of them notice Jacob’s protective actions and start snapping pictures even more eagerly.

You could feel their invasive gaze, but your focus remained on Sydney, shielding her from the intrusive lenses from the front seat of the car.

As Jacob buckled up your daughter, he could sense you were uncomfortable, glancing at the paparazzi from time to time. He knew how much it meant to you to keep Sydney’s upbringing away from cameras as much as possible.

“I’m going to go talk to them,” Jacob says as you look at him with surprise. “Are you sure?” You lightly bite your lip as he nods, “Yeah, I’ll be quick,” Is all he says before he shuts the door.

You watch as Jacob makes his way to the group of paparazzi. You couldn’t hear what was being said of course but they seemed understanding about what Jacob was saying to them.

Jacob approached the group with a calm but firm demeanour. “Hey guys, I’m not sure if you’re aware but Y/n and I want to keep our daughter away from the public eyes as much as possible. And I know this is your job but could you please make sure to blur out Sydney’s face in the photos you’ve taken?”

One of the paparazzi’s, seemingly more considerate than the rest, responded, “Sure thing, Jacob. I don’t think we managed to photograph your daughter’s face,” He and the others all take a look through the photo’s they’ve taken whilst showing Jacob.

“But if we find one, we’ll make sure her face is blurred. No problem.” The man says as Jacob nods. “I appreciate it. Have a good day guys.”

As Jacob walked back to the car, you exchanged a relieved glance. As he climbs into the car, you felt a mixture of gratitude and exhaustion from the constant vigilance required to protect your family’s privacy.

You intertwine your hands with Jacob’s, expressing your gratitude, “Thank you for handling that.” A grateful smile adorns your face as he grins, bringing your intertwined hands close to his face and gently kissing your hand.

“Of course, I don’t need to think twice about doing something like that to protect Sydney,” Jacob affirms. He adjusts the rearview mirror, stealing a glance at Sydney in her car seat. Her curious eyes are fixed on the window, captivated by the passing palm trees.

Later that day, you were sent a tweet from Jacob’s sister. It’s from one of the paparazzi who interacted with Jacob earlier. The post details the encounter and emphasises Jacob’s kindness in handling the situation.

The tweet read, “Just had a run-in with Jacob Elordi, and gotta say, he’s one of the nicest celebs I’ve encountered. Asked us to blur out his daughter’s face, and even though we’re paparazzi, he handled it with grace. Big respect for him!”

As you read through the comments, you couldn’t help but smile at the overwhelming support from Jacob’s fans. Messages of admiration for his commitment to Sydney’s privacy flooded the comment section.

yourusername

Liked by jacobelordi, caileespaeny, hbo, zendaya, sydney_sweeney and 10,937,274 others

👶🍼💗💋🧸

view all comments

jacobelordi: love you both so much ❤️

↘️ yourusername: 💗

caileespaeny: aweee

sydney_sweeney: I need to see little Syd like rn 😭

↘️ yourusername: your godchild misses you!

↘️ user1: Is anyone just finding out now that Sydney Sweeney is the the god mother of Jacob Elordi and Y/n Y/l/n’s daughter 😃

↘️ user2: I mean, it kinda makes sense ngl. Y/n and Sydney are childhood besties and then she names her own kid after her best friend.

user3: sometimes I forget Jacob Elordi isn’t single and has a child

user4: those recent pictures of him holding Sydney is doing something to me 🙂

↘️ user5: RIGHT!

↘️ user6: oh for sure.

[evilgwrl]

Neighbour!Simon Riley x Reader

Girl Next Door (One)

CW: Mutual masturbation ;)

Inspired by Neighbour!Simon

Chapter Two

Your legs perched up across the woven strings of the porch chair, knees littered with blue and black kisses, knotted joints tucked into your chest as you watched the peak of gold settle into a deep blue. Bony fingers laced the pages between parched hands, eyes darting maliciously between words as you hummed to yourself softly.

You were used to being out here alone, an orchestra of bats occasionally sounding out to you as they scurried away into pine trees, nipping between each other.  Your flat, a smaller duplex, was tucked away into a quiet cul-de-sac, away from the hustle and bustle of London life. It was an organised routine, your body succumbing to the night air as you bathed in the comforting atmosphere of the twilight. There was an occasional hum from up the road, the chug of a car passing through, but your interest peaked when the gravel road lit up, headlights streaming towards you as you shielded your eyes.

The sound of the engine frightened you a bit before you adjusted your vision. A large shadow stepped into view, the staggering height of a man peaking your attention before you took in the balaclava flushed against his face, russet eyes covered by a delicate frame of blonde lashes, stained with black face paint staring at you before dropping his head in a curt nod.

You recognised him as your neighbour. Quiet bloke, away often on deployment you presumed, but nether-the-less was a comfort for you. Even at home, it was like he was never there, the occasional echo of hollow boots sounding against the floorboards before they disappeared. He was ghostly, slightly peculiar but you noted him down mainly as mysterious.

You had spoken a few times, sounding good morning as he was outside having a smoke when you were leaving for work. His response was gruff and shallow, a deep voice barking out a short reply before smashing the dart under the rubble of his shoe, calloused hands gripping the door handle.

He walked past you, duffle bag dropped against the porch as he huffed with his keys, bruised knuckles peaking your attention as you glanced at him, framed eyes peering in curiosity.

“Y’ alright?” His tone was curt, a hint of annoyance ringing through as his eyes stained trained on the metal knob, working the key through the hole.

You squeaked out a noise, taken back by him as you adjusted in the chair, feet flat against the floor now. “Yeah, sorry, I’m just not used to you being here, it’s uh, nice for you to be back, less lonely,” you rambled, shuffling your hands awkwardly before you shut yourself up.

He let out a grunt, the noise almost animalistic sounding as he shut the door, his vague appearance shuffling into the quiet of his own home as you sat outside, whispering an expletive under your breath as you prodded at the ecchymosis on your nobbled knees.

Rough hands rubbed at the face paint, gentle soap working into the scorn skin, thickened skin almost melting under the velocity of the scolding water. Simon’s throat was scratchy, the irritating feeling of sandpaper lining his oesophagus as he choked out a cough. Broken blood vessels littered across the scarring of his back and ribs, a splurge of hematoma drawn across the broken skin.

Ivory skin was now painted with falling droplets of water, a scratchy moose-coloured towel adorned his hips as he shook his hair, moist residue landing on the mirror as he rubbed his hands across his face, a soft moan leaving his lips as he prodded the tender knot in his back.  

His home felt foreign, no matter how long he had lived there for.

His bedroom had dusk lighting, a double bed pushed against the flaky walls, the metal rods holding the frame scraping at the paint. A singular pillow to each side perked up against his touch as he layered them, unused linen welcoming him with a slight dusty smell, aching body collapsing into the plushness of the duvet.

He was aware that your bedroom was adjacent to his, your beds pushed directly together on opposite ends. He could hear the subtle creaks of your feet against the floor as you shuffled around, a chair squeaking across the floor as it collided with something before the noise of you walking sounded again. Simon could hear the springs in your bed, an acknowledgement that you were now lying down.

There was a low hum of a fan whirring, the white noise drifting into his room as he stared up at his own, the stagnant noise felt unorthodox, the familiarity of the barracks being the usual for the Lieutenant. Simon’s hands felt weighed down as he moved them from his chest to rest at his side, his breathing shallow as his ears perked at every movement you made.

You were restless, sweaty body tangled between cotton as you adjusted yourself, flinging your blankets off you as you let out gentle pants. You cursed at the lack of air conditioning available in British homes, peeling off your silken pyjama shorts as you flung them somewhere across your bedroom. Your body was hot and achy, the heat settling in even during the night as you turned to the side, beady eyes watching as the wind flickered the branches occasionally. You were tempted to sleep outside at this point, your room feeling like a sauna as you let out a frustrated quip.

There was a subtle ache between your thighs, a dull throbbing ringing through your brain as you attempted to position yourself better, clicking your calves as you rustled around. Tired arms stretched your top over your head as it too met the wraith of your floor, bare breasts perked against your sheets as you closed your eyes, cuddling up against a pillow.

Slumber never succumbed to your heated frame, the drill of your fan almost teasing you as it provided minimum cooling. You spread your legs, sweat prickling over your stretch marks as you moaned in annoyance. Your fingers trailed your slit through the thin fabric, turquoise-coloured panties fading into an aqua as you let out a shaky breath. You felt dirty, the dull throb of your cunt mocking you as needy fingers hooked into the lace, dragging them down the plushness of your thighs before settling at the end of your bed.

You fumbled around in your draw, clumsy fingers feeling around for your bullet vibrator before they rubbed against the silicone. You were sure to be quiet, your hands covering the majority of the vibrations as you nestled it between your folds, collecting the sweetness of your slick before resting it on your achy clit, an instant moan rising at your throat as you tweaked at your nipples.

The hum against your sex wasn’t enough as you sat up, resting the vibrator on your swollen nub as you straddled a pillow, sloppy pussy grinding against it rapidly as you rutted like a dog in heat, chasing your high.

You were a sight for sore eyes, breasts bouncing at your movements as you humped against the cushion, the cheap sex toy sounding against the bundle of nerves as you let out soft whimpers, mouth opened in an ‘o’ shape as you tugged at your hardened nubs that were practically aching against your chest.

It was like you were going through puberty again, squishy sounds squelching from your cunt at the licentious actions, hips getting sloppy as you felt your coil forming, antagonising moans dripping from your lips as you stilled, the silicone pressed sweetly into your clit as you whined into your hand, orgasm ripping through you as you jutted away from the stimulation, collapsing into a heap.

Simon frowned at how quickly your noises were over as a spit-covered cock throbbed in agony, veiny hands jutting around the angry member as he milked himself to the memory of your orgasm, hot splashes of cum spurting against his belly, a thick trail of hair leading down to his softening cock as he cleaned himself up before nestling into the comfort of his sheets and the barely audible hum of your breathing.

[rebelssvy]

vulnerable ✧.*

bakugo x reader

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ “you drew stars, around my scars.”

⋆·˚ ༘ *

summary: fluff, somewhat sad. you get hurt and bakugo comes to cheer you up. you cry to him

you felt utterly helpless. after the most recent incident, you were left on a bed rest. hurting both your knees, and back lifting a building off civilians.

you sat in the dorm, as everyone else was at school. left in silence and your emotions. your thoughts became overwhelming. falling into a slumber you your mind drifted off.

it wasn’t long until you heard a knock on your door. “come in..” you mumbled, throat dry and scratchy. you weren’t sure who would be coming in to see you. it had been days since everything happened and only your close girl friends dropped by.

watching the door handle twist and pop open. katsuki stood in your door frame.

“holy shit it’s fucking depressing in here.” he stated before flipping on your light switch and closing the door behind him. you didn’t want him to see you like this. you had been very fond of him since first year. slowly growing closer to him as you became adults, about to graduate soon.

“hi..” you croaked out. become very aware of your voice. you gave him a weak smile.

“hey loser” he said dropping a bag onto your desk and pulling the chair over to your bed. before he sat down.

“i brought you some snacks. maybe you’ll be less rude to me i thought” he said with a chuckle.

“i-i haven’t seen you.. in what feels like forever.” you said hushed. not able to generate much volume in your speech.

he took in your expression. you looked slightly unkept, he still thought you were utterly gorgeous. you had yourself hidden in your hoodie and blanket.

“they took m-me for surgery.. right after i passed out. i guess adrenaline can only get you so far..” you said as if he wasn’t aware. you didn’t know it but he had stayed at the hospital the entire time.

his hardened expression switched to one of love and care. he dropped his head before saying “can i see..” he looked sincere.

you nodded before sitting up, moving your blanket out of the way. you showed him your legs. all bruised and scarred, some of the pen from the surgery still apparent.

you awaited his reaction. wondering if he would feel disgusted or not. would this be the moment he decided he would never like you, or the opposite. maybe he would think i am strong. you thought

“i already think your strong, y/n.” you gasped, can he read your mind? “i can read you like a book.” he stated chuckling. you laughed with him.

you sat in silence before sitting up farther. “do you.. want to see my back?” you asked him. almost wanting a form of validation. for him to tell you your scars didn’t ’make you’.

“yes. show me.” he responded, still calm. you noticed a subtle blush on his face.

you reached around your back, finding the hem of your hoodie. before groaning. you were still in a lot of pain. unable to get it over your head.

“can you help me?” asking weakly. he didn’t respond verbally, he just smiled softly and brought his hands to yours.

for his quirk being so hot, his hands were often cold. you drew in a quick breath when he made contact with your skin.

he studied you, bringing your hoodie up over your head. holding it over your naked cleavage. the doctors still didn’t want you wearing bras for it could mess up your stitching.

once again you felt vulnerable. waiting for him to say somthing. he ran his fingers near your incision. you watched his face as he did so.

you felt your eyes gloss over. growing very emotional at his touch. trying your best not to cry, you let your eyes fall to your knees. staring at them instead of him.

“you can cry around me… cry baby.” he said softly, his eyes now on your face. without another word you started sobbing. all the emotions that had been off, switched on from his touch.

you sounded embarrassing, stifling, groaning. you felt every emotion at once. quivering, you whispered, “i’m sor-ry you have to see me like this.”

before you could say anything else he pulled you into a hug. hugging you like you could slip away at any moment. you grabbed onto him, dampening his hoodie.

the moment was just you, intimate. vulnerable.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

i think i’m gonna make this but with kiri!! why not loll. please give me asks. i’m beggin

[luvsupa]

a/n: thinking of sukuna all the time 😔

uncle!sukuna groaned as he got the call to pick up yuji from middle school. he would have much rather stayed at his tattoo shop, finishing up a piece for a client, but jin’s call left him no choice.

when sukuna arrived at yuji’s classroom, he stood at the doorway, scanning the room for his nephew. no sign of yuji.

“excuse me,” sukuna called out to you, the teacher’s assistant. the moment he saw you, he was struck by your beauty and, for the first time, found himself speechless.

you glanced at him, noticing his large, muscular frame and the tattoos adorning his arms. the most captivating was the large tattoo on his chest, partially hidden under his black tank top.

“i’m here to pick up, umm…” sukuna trailed off, momentarily forgetting why he was there. before either of you could speak, a ball flew across the room and hit sukuna on the side of his head. you gasped as you spotted yuji and megumi giggling from their hiding spot. sukuna winced from the impact, giving yuji a death stare. the boys sheepishly stepped out from behind you, clearly scared of sukuna.

“are you okay? i can get you an ice pack,” you offered softly, struggling to hold back your laughter. sukuna swore he fell in love with you right then, charmed by your gentle demeanor and the adorable way you tried not to giggle.

“my uncle’s blushing! he has a crush on you, miss!” yuji teased, laughing and pointing at sukuna’s red cheeks, making him even more embarrassed. you gasped at yuji’s words, glancing at sukuna as he rubbed his head and looked away.

“just go get your stuff. let’s go,” sukuna said, annoyed. but before they left, you handed sukuna an ice pack and a goodie bag filled with candy (which he later ate all by himself, giving none to yuji).

uncle!sukuna who told jin not to worry about picking up yuji from school anymore, insisting he would handle it from now on.

uncle!sukuna who started arriving early to pick up yuji, just to have a chance to chat with you.

“why are you always picking me up? you said you hated coming here-”

“shut up,” sukuna quickly interrupted, not wanting yuji to reveal his true motives, that is wanting to be in your presence.

uncle!sukuna who even made yuji stop taking the school bus in the mornings so he could personally bring you flowers and coffee everyday, just to see you. <3

[cherrixpie]

HOW NOT TO DATE A SLYTHERIN

part six of five

↬ being harry potter's sister wouldn't make dating theodore nott any easier - which was why you tried to hide it.

↬ nsfw; mdni; wc: 6.1k (oh god what did i do); tags: oral fem receiving, soft dom! theo, p in v, unprotected sex, theo is a munch, praise, slight virginity/innocence kink

( masterlist )

You sat cross-legged on the king sized bed in the room of requirement, fingers picking at the threads of the soft duvet beneath you. Anticipation curled in your insides as you fixed your eyes on the door. The room had answered your subconscious wish and provided a clock, an old grandfather clock, that ticked softly. Apart from your breathing, it was the only sound breaking the silence. Until the door handle clicked.

The door creaked open, and you looked up sharply, your breath catching as Theo slipped inside. His hair was damp from the rain still falling outside, and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes, his sharp features softening as his eyes landed on you. He hesitated for a moment, as if gauging the mood, before closing the door behind him with a quiet thud. There was a sort of tension in the room, or maybe you were imagining it because your nerves ran high. When Theo crooked his head, you realized what he was waiting for.

“Oh, Harry apologized,” you reassured him and Theo nodded, approaching the bed slowly. On his way, he shed his cloak and bag and sat down on the bed, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt. “How did your friends take it?” you asked and scooted back to make space for him. Theo's eyes followed your retreating figure and he raised his brows, moving after you. “Are you running from me, tesoro?”

“Are you avoiding my question, Theo?” you countered and scooted back even more to tease him. Theo chuckled darkly and surged forward, trapping you beneath him by seizing your wrists and pushing them gently into the cushion. You couldn't help the high-pitched gasp that left your throat. One of Theo's large hands was enough to bind both your wrists, leaving you utterly helpless under his hungry eyes. The other drew a teasing line down your side.

“Wouldn't dream of it.” Theo dipped down to peck your nose, your cheeks, down to your chin. However, his kisses didn't stay that innocent. When a little sigh left your lips, you felt a sudden, sharp sensation at your neck and gasped. Theo chuckled and caressed the spot he had bitten down on with his lips, worshipping it. The hand that had been running up and down your side planted itself firmly on your hip as his hips moved almost instinctively and you felt something stiff rubbing against your core.

You stiffened, and Theo noticed in an instance. His lips and hands retreated immediately and he pushed himself up to bring some space between the two of you. With furrowed brows, he looked down on your panting figure. “Are you alright? Did I-”

“No!” you said quickly and scrambled to sit like him. “I'm fine, I’m- I was just surprised.” When you noticed the worried look in his cerulean eyes, you tried to explain. “You haven't- It’s just- I’m just-” But the words wouldn't make it past your lips. Instead, Theo got a hold of your gesticulating hands and brought them to his lips. “There is nothing to explain, cara mia,” he said softly. “I’m sorry I went too far.”

“You didn't, I-” you blushed furiously and averted your face, but you couldn't miss his raised eyebrow. “I liked it,” you whispered, staring stubbornly at the blankets of the four poster. Even out of your peripheral vision, you could see the change in his demeanor at your words. His frame visibly relaxed, but at the same time, his fingers locked with yours that had subconsciously been picking on the blanket. When you looked up at him, his gaze was steady but not intimidating. The soft, teasing grin he’d worn earlier had given way to something quieter- more patient.

It was strange. Minutes before, you had been flush against his body and been devoured by his lips, and yet this felt almost more intimate. You were hyper-aware of how close he was, the way his fingertips traced aimless patterns along the back of your hand. It was gentle, intimate, yet every nerve in your body was alive with tension. Your teeth nibbled on your bottom lip as you looked for the fitting words. Theo seemed to sense that you were holding something back, because he waited patiently. “You should know something,” you said.

“I-” you began, only to falter. The words caught in your throat, leaving a lump of unease behind. Theo's brows furrowed slightly, not in annoyance but intrigue. He didn't press, he just waited. In the silence, you could make out the steady rhythm of his breathing and it grounded you somewhat. You weren't about to confess a crime. Though, and you couldn't deny it, you were worried that Theo would be disappointed. You glanced down on your lap, where your hands lay intertwined. Finally, you forced yourself to meet his eyes, heart pounding so hard it almost drowned out your voice. “I've never… I’ve never done anything like this before.” You swallowed and avoided his piercing gaze. “I'm, like, a virgin.”

Theo's eyes widened as he suddenly understood what all your blushing and nervousness around the topic of intimacy meant. Though he had assumed you were less experienced than he was, for one because you didn't have that kind of reputation and secondly because he had to admit that you’d have to work pretty hard to beat him, he didn't think you would be a virgin. That someone as gorgeous and smart as you had never gotten busy with anyone.

You seemed pretty embarrassed, either of the topic or the confession, and your fingers seemed to tighten around his subconsciously. When you sent him a nervous glance, he got his features back under control.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about, dolcezza,” Theo said softly but your shame skyrocketed at once and you bundled up, hiding your burning face in your hands and letting out a long groan. You heard him chuckle and then felt his soft touch pry at your wrist. “Would you look at me, amore mio dolce?” Cheeks a bright pink, hair a mess and lips kiss-bitten, Theo couldn't think of a more endearing sight than when you let him remove your hands from your face and looked up at him. “We don't have to do anything, let's just cuddle some more and-”

“No!” you interrupted him fervently. “I mean… I do want to.” You seemed to grapple with something, and finally, you looked back up at him, your doe eyes glistening in the light of the many fires. “Is it bad?” Bad? Shamefully, Theo had to admit it only made his problem down there worse. At the same time, he started to question himself, and his lack of an immediate answer had you bite your lip nervously.

“It's not … bad,” he said in a great effort to keep his voice steady and composed. But he couldn't help his fingers twitch, burning to hold you, grab you, push you into the covers and make you his. Merlin he needed therapy.

“Then why are you acting so weird?” you said, noting his strained voice, averted eyes and twitching fingers, as ditched wanted to escape from yours. “Why does it make a difference wether I'm a virgin or not?”

That was a really good question, actually. Theo had deflowered plenty of girls in his lifetime and it had never made a difference to him how experienced they were. But when it was you, it did something to him. A dark, greedy part of him stirred at the thought of being you first, ruining you for all other men, teaching you, guiding you, making you his.

Theo groaned in frustration and let his head slump into the crook of your neck, throwing all pretense into the wind. Merlin, how it turned him on that- “You would give your virginity to me?” he asked into your neck and you nodded rapidly. “Yes!” “Are you sure?” You were taken aback by the graveness and severity in his tone, but it couldn't deter you. “Yes, Theo. I trust you.”

“Dio, dannazione,” Theo hissed and lifted his face from your neck to look at you with an intensity that knocked the air right out of your lungs. His fingers slipped out of yours and located themselves on your hip instead, in a tight grip, an attempt to ground himself and drown the monster in him out. “Cazzo, tesoro, it's not bad, quite the contrary, actually.” A humorless chuckle left his lips and you frowned up at him with innocent confusion. “What do you mean?”

When he leaned in, you found yourself pulled to him as if by magnetic force. His cerulean eyes were so dark, like black holes that held an overpowering pull on everything around them. And right now, it was you who was pulled into the abysmal depths. Your breath hitched when your lips were mere inches apart and Theo's voice sounded oh so softly, like a melody whispered into your ears. “I think … I think it's so hot that you want to give your first time to me.” You breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank Merlin, I thought you were going to run away or something.”

“You're ridiculous,” Theo mused but you shrugged, awaiting the touch of his lips readily. “You're the one with the virginity kink.” Biting your lip, you looked up at him with a daring smile and brought your voice to a sensual whisper that seemed completely laughable to you. “Theo, I’d let you take me any time you aske-”

Before you could finish your sentence, his lips clashed with yours in an uncontrolled fervor you had never seen from Theo. Theo’s kisses were slow and sensual, controlled and determined, and though they could also be passionate, he had never kissed you like this. Wild, senseless, barely more than a clash of teeth as he slipped his tongue into your mouth and straight up moaned. It was a kiss that set your whole body alight, electrified it, so that the simplest touch of his hands left you whimpering into his mouth.

Theo swallowed up all sounds as his tongue roamed around your mouth, as if he wanted to explore every inch of you, claim you whole. His usually so careful touches turned into barely restrained grips as his hands cupped your face. You didn't even realize you had given into his relentless push until your back met the mattress and he pulled away, leaving you gasping for air.

A storm was brewing in his eyes when Theo looked down on you in the sheets, but after a few deep breaths, he seemed to get himself back under control. “I don't have an innocence kink,” he insisted and you giggled, but he only smiled and played with a strand of your hair. “I don't. It's just… you. The thought of being your first.” And your last, if he had his way. But he didn't want to overwhelm you. With another long exhale, he kissed your temple softly. “You’re a fucking angel, you know that? I want to do this the right way, make it perfect…”

His lips found yours once more, but it was in a gentle caress. A kiss that felt like an answer to an unspoken question. His nose nuzzled against yours as his large hands glided down your body, mapping and lingering at your waist before one got a hold of your thigh. As his thumb brushed over the skin under your uniform skirt, he parted your legs gingerly and his hips slotted perfectly into the open space.

You felt so impossibly close to him he might just have consumed you whole. It was impossible not to feel safe in his capable hands that seemed to expertly draw all the right reactions out of you. Your bodies melded together as he let his hips rock experimentally and you mewled. Theo’s lips curled into a smirk you could feel against your own as he reveled in the effect he had on you. Smug bastard. In retaliation, you moved your hips against his and his breath hitched. “Cazzo, bella, mi farai dimenticare me stesso.”

His hands travelled further down to lock your hips in place. But instead of continuing to rub his hardened, clothed dick against your crotch, Theo departed from your mouth to trail kisses down your neck. With a swift motion, he moved you further back on the mattress, his hands held your thighs as he was on eye-level with your clothed core. Realizing his intentions, you propped yourself up on your ellbows to look at him. The way he looked at you through his dark lashes had the heat explode in your chest- and your cheeks. When you spoke, your voice came out in a broken stammer. “Y- you don't have to do that.”

“Sorry?” Theo said courteously as he trailed kisses down your thigh. You had to suppress a whimper and attempted to close your thighs out of instinct, but Theo kept them parted with ease. “No need to be embarrassed,” he smiled and you felt like the amount of fireplaces had just doubled.

“I-” you said tentatively as he was still worshiping your thigh, “I've heard many boys see it as a chore.” What you hadn't expected was for Theo to roll his eyes. “Then many boys are sciocchi,” he said as his fingers latched onto your skirt, gently prying at it. “But-” “I want to, cazzo, I want to. Do you know how long I've been yearning to taste your cute little cunt?” Theo interrupted you and brought a hand to your chin to make you unable to avert your hazy gaze. “So fucking long. Please, let me have a taste of you, Tesoro.”

It was almost impossible to meet his fiery gaze, but once you did, you found yourself nodding helplessly. “Good girl,” Theo praised and peeled down your skirt, placing it orderly on the nightstand. His calm manner made you feel as if he was teasing you, and you were about to scold him when you felt his index finger hook around your panties as he placed the softest of kisses on your pubic bone.

For some reason, this was what made your breath hitch and he hummed amusedly against your skin. One of his fingers came down to draw the lightest of circles on your clothed cunt and you squirmed uncontrollably under him. Theo's eyes glinted with amusement as he tutted. “So responsive…”

“S- stop teasing,” you stuttered and felt him shift between your legs. “Your wish is my command,” Theo murmured against your skin and, in one fluid motion, he had rid you of your panties. They joined your skirt as Theo dove down and you chocked on your own spit.

Expertly, Theo's lips closed around your clit and you stifled a sudden moan by slapping your hand over your mouth. You were startled when Theo's hand released your thigh and got a hold of your wrist. His eyes glinted dangerously up at you. “None of that, principessa. I want to hear you.” His index finger flicked against your clit and you mewled. Theo growled against your cunt as he dipped out his tongue into your wetness and started devouring you like his last meal.

You had never felt anything like this. Theo's mouth on your cunt felt so wild and uncontrolled, yet his lips or mouth nudged against your clit in constant, overwhelming stimulation. Your attempts to control your noises were rendered in vain as Theo touched you in all the right places and a loud, high-pitched moan of his name escaped your throat. His ministrations on your pussy came to a sudden halt as Theo stared up at you with an expression that had your insides squeeze in actual fear. “Do that again.”

As he returned to your cunt, you threw your head back into the covers. His tongue dipped into your warmth, messily making out with your pussy and practically worshipping your clit. Your thighs trembled, just as your voice when you let out another pathetic mewl of his name and you felt Theo moan into your cunt, the vibrations having you writhing and squirming.

With a loud groan, one of Theo’s arms shot up to hold down your waist to allow himself the perfect angle to devour you. Your juices covered the better half of his face but Theo couldn't bring himself to care. When he felt his hips rut against the mattress subconsciously, he forced himself to stop. This was about you, this would be all about you, his pleasure would come second to yours. But your cute little moans went straight to his clock as he reveled in the taste of you.

You were like ambrosia, Theo was convinced to be in heaven, and when you buried your trembling fingers in his locks in an adorable attempt to take control, he could not hold back the shudder that rippled through his body.

Theo found his iron discipline wavering when your back arched off the mattress and your desperate whimpers filled his ears. Merlin, you were heavenly, as you began to tremble and squirm in his tight hold. “Theo, I- I’m-” He knew what lay on your tongue and he knew you were too embarrassed to say it out loud, but he wanted to hear you say it so bad. “You’re what?” he murmured teasingly and you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “I’m close, oh god, I'm close!”

You found yourself squealing when you felt one of Theo’s fingers that had been rubbing circles on your clit travel down and prod at your entrance. A gasp left your lips when he slipped it inside, lubricated by your juices, and curled it upward. Your grip on his locks tightened, whether to stop him or spur him on, you did not know, and he chuckled against your warmth. “Be gentle with me, cara mia.” God, the way he spoke Italian into your cunt had you wetter than you would like to admit. But of course, he noticed, and you knew from the slight smirk he gave you that he had made a mental note.

Theo added another finger and you felt your high approaching with accelerating speed, and somehow, the pleasure got even more intense. You had touched yourself before, but the weak orgasms you could draw out here and there were in no comparison to anything you felt right now. You knew Theo was watching you closely, you could feel his heavy gaze on you, but you couldn't stop your pathetic little “ah”s of pleasure. And when he curled up his fingers to meet a spot you didn't even know you had and his lips closed around your clit once more, you broke.

Releasing a strangled moan, your body spasmed as you were hit by the strongest orgasm you had ever felt, bucking off the bed as you squeezed your eyes shut and fell apart on his tongue. For a moment, you thought you could see the pearly gates of heaven as you grew impossibly light-headed. Wave and wave of pleasure washed over you, with the only thing grounding you being Theo. His mouth and fingers worked you through your high as you slowly returned to him.

Watching your heaving chest and teary eyes, Theo felt tempted to work you into overstimulation, giving in to the mean temptation to have you crying and and trashing in his arms, but he resisted the urge. Today was exclusively about your pleasure. Instead, he released your thighs and departed from your pussy with a last peck to your clit that had you jolt in his hold. Then, he returned to hover over you and revel in your fucked-out expression.

Theo dipped his head down to kiss you and you shuddered, tasting yourself on his lips. In fact, half his face was covered in your juices, and when he pulled away from the short but sweet kiss, you attempted to wipe some of it away with an apologetic expression. “Sorry,” you said sheepishly, feeling hesitant to meet his intense gaze. “I made a bit of a mess, didn't I?”

But one of Theo’s hands came up to seize your wrist and stop your feeble attempts. “Tesoro, why would you deny me my dessert?”

“D- dessert?” you stuttered, blushing furiously, and he laughed. Your weak slap against his abdomen seemed to go unnoticed, but your blushing did not. “cosi carina,” Theo murmured as he pecked both your burning cheeks. His eyes met yours and you shivered at the unmasked adoration in them. “How do you feel? Do you want to continue? We don't have to,” he assured you, but you shook your head with a little more fervor as necessary.

“I want to continue, that was … wow. It never…,” you avoided his eyes but he lifted your chin to make you look at him. “It never what?” “... never felt that good when I… you know…” Your embarrassment, even when he was literally covered in your juices, was so cute that Theo couldn't help the grin growing on his face. “Go on.” With a frustrated groan, you punched his chest. “When I … you know… touched myself,” you forced past your lips and he cooed at your shyness.

His head nestled into the crook of your neck and you heard him mutter close to your ear: “What did you think about when you touched yourself, tesoro?” Your heart pounded so hard in your chest you could barely get your words past it. “You. And me. A- and-” your voice broke off and faded into a soft mewl when you felt his fingers at your entrance once more, drawing tantalizing patterns around your clit.

“Go on,” he murmured again and your breath hitched. “Go on or I'll stop,” Theo threatened and you scrambled to keep talking. “Your hands, ah! I thought about your hands.” His dark chuckle made you shiver and he cooed. “You thought about my hands?” You nodded in shame, fisting his shirt and pulling him closer. “What else?”

You realized he was looking for a specific answer that you were very reluctant to give. The effect he had on you when he spoke in his mother tongue. But you just couldn't say it, so you copped out with “your voice.”

There was a mean flick against your clit and you gasped as Theo growled against your ear. Two of his fingers entered your cunt and stretched it out so deliciously you could feel it in your dry throat. “What else?” Stubbornly, you shook your head and he tutted. “Cos'altro c'è?”

“You’re mean,” you complained, but you could practically feel yourself growing wetter- and he could, too. “Dillo e basta,” he purred against the shell of your ear as his fingers curled and expertly hit the spot that had you seeing stars. “Just say it, tesoro.”

It was too much: his Italian, his fingers, the burning in your cheeks. The confession broke out of you. “It's hot when you speak Italian, okay?” you whined defiantly and Theo rewarded you with another curl upwards that had you shudder in his arms. “Good girl, I knew you could do it.” You didn't know what you hated more: how smug his voice was or how it had you dripping into the sheets. In an attempt to regain your dignity, you mustered all your strength and locked your thighs around his waist, flipping the two of you around.

With a raised brow, Theo watched your panting figure ontop of him. You straddled his waist and, in an attempt to take back some level of control, experimentally rocked your hips over his clothes erection. Theo’s breath hitched slightly and you gave him a triumphant grin, rolling your hips once again, and again, holding back moans. You gasped when he shifted under you and sat up, his hands latching onto your waist. Now it was him who rocked you back and forth on his lap, and you who buried your hands in his shirt and mewled at the pleasure.

“Nice try,” he chuckled into your ear. The satisfaction in his tone brought out your last remnants of defiance as you bit down on his neck so hard it made him hiss. “Cazzo, bella!” While he was distracted, your hand travelled down and you found the outline of his cock through his trousers. When your fingers closed around it, eliciting a deep grunt from Theo, you gasped. Though you had never seen another man in comparison, you were pretty sure Theo was massive, and you began to doubt wether he could even fit.

But before you could do anything else, Theo’s lips clashed onto yours and you were momentarily distracted by the mind-shattering kiss he gave you. His tongue slipped into your mouth easily as if he wanted to devour you whole, body and soul, and you were beginning to think he already had. Between kisses, he whispered unknown phrases in Italian. His lips in combination with his words made you increasingly desperate.

When he pulled away and you gasped for air, Theo gently removed your hands from his clothed erection and placed pecks on your frowning eyebrows. “Not tonight, cara mia, this is about you, and you only.”

“But-,” you protested weakly as he brought your hands to his neck and looped them around it. “I wanted to make you feel good, too.”

“Well, aren't you an angel,” he chuckled softly and kissed the corner of your lips. “The best way to make me feel good right now, tesoro, is to take off that blouse of yours.”

You scrambled to unbutton your school shirt, but it was a bit of a challenge with how hard your hands were trembling. All the while, Theo leaned back against the headboard and watched your attempts with the slightest hint of smugness shimmering within those cerulean eyes. He might as well have lit a cigarette, with how utterly appeased he appeared. A smug smile tugged at his lips as he watched your confused attempts to open your blouse. His nonchalance was maddeningly magnetic, with the casual grace of someone who held all the cards.

When you had finally managed to open your blouse, you were suddenly hit with a new wave of shyness. Your hands trembled slightly when you pried it open and discarded it onto the floor, watching Theo’s reaction closely. His eyes widened slightly and the smile fell from his lips. It was replaced by slightly parted lips that he wet with his tongue as his eyes took you in fully, traveling over your collarbone, clothed breasts and down to your soft belly.

Feeling self-conscious, you crossed your arms over your chest, but Theo sat up in one swift motion and pried them off, eyes locked to your lace bra. “No, no, no, niente di tutto questo,” he told you and you wondered whether he was even aware you had no idea what he had said. Oh, well, you’d gotten the general gist.

When Theo managed to lift his gaze from your boobs,they met yours with a softness you hadn't expected. “You’re so beautiful, Merlin, let me die to this sight.”

“You-,” you whispered, as if you were telling him a secret, “you’re not lying?” God, that lifted eyebrow, those damn eyes. His index finger brushed over your lip gently and you found yourself shuddering at the simple touch. Leaning closer, your cunt brushed over his thigh and you gasped. With a light smirk on his lips, Theo bucked it upwards and watched you suppress a moan and bury your hands in his shirt to stabilize yourself. Your vicinity enabled him to reach around your waist and flip the two around in one fluid motion.

“I'm not,” he said softly, looking down on your bare body splayed out for him in the sheets. Your pretty glistening eyes looking up at him so sweetly, he found himself enraptured by merely looking at you.

A pout tugged at your kiss-bitten lips. “How come I'm naked and you’re not?”

He smiled. “Fair enough.” With one hand, he tugged his shirt over his head, the other loosened his belt. With a shudder, he got lost in the feeling of your soft hands traveling up his torso and locking around his neck to pull him into a kiss. He gave in to your pull and dove down, shedding his trousers and slotting his hips between your soft thighs.

You almost forgot how to breathe in between kisses. Everything was so warm. His hands on your body, your skin against the fire from outside and within. His mouth, caressing yours. One of his hands travelled down your tummy and over the curve of your bare ass, grabbing a hand full of your thigh and lifting it to rock his clothed erection against your bare warmth. A strangled moan left your lips as you threw your head back and his lips latched onto your neck.

Your bodies rocked against and with each other, synchronizing into one fluid motion. Theo's somewhat strained baritone whispered sweet nothings in Italian into your ear. But it wasn't enough. Your hand ran down his back until it reached his boxers and you tugged at their hem, making Theo pant into your mouth. Spurred on by his reaction, you slipped your hand inside them and closed around his cock. For some reason, you shuddered against him and when he moaned against your skin, you took it as a sign to move your hand.

As if on instinct, his hips rocked into your hand and he groaned into your neck. “ragazza sfacciata. Little minx.” But before you could revel in having the upper hand for at least a short while, a much bigger hand closed around both your wrists and pressed them into the mattress over your hand. With a cheeky smile, Theo tutted at you. “Quite eager, aren't we?”

“Well, if you take so damn long,” you retorted and his eyes glinted dangerously before they softened once more. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked seriously, searching for any traces of hesitation or uncertainty.

You nodded. “Positi-” You were cut off by a squeak when Theo discarded his boxers and rutted his cock against your folds. He was massive, and excitement, as well as anxiety curled in your stomach. “Still sure?” he asked cockily and you nodded. Even though you knew it wasn't a smart move, you gave him challenging look. “What, are you scared to f-” Three fingers plunged into your wet cunt and you gasped at the new stretch, eyes burning. “That's what you got to look forward to,” Theo murmured hotly against your neck. “That and more.”

Even though nervousness bloomed in your stomach, you managed to catch his eye and give him a nod of reassurance. “Please, Theo, please, I want it, I-” “Merlin, you’re tempting,” Theo gritted out and gave your cunt a gentle slap that squelched embarrassingly loud. “Bene, spread your legs for me, principessa.”

You did and felt a blush bloom on your cheeks when the tip of his cock kissed your sensitive clit. Theo's hands drew reassuring circles on your belly as he hoisted himself up and pressed his tip into your entrance. He was big, and seemed even bigger now that he was actually in you. The stretch was so unlike his fingers that you forgot to breathe for a second. You felt Theo's worried eyes on you and smiled at him through the sting you felt. “Tell me if anything hurts,” he muttered before he moved in the next inch.

Theo could barely hold himself together as his tip slipped further into your tight warmth. Biting down hard on his lip, so hard he might have actually started bleeding, he summoned all his restraint. The urge to plunge into you and split you open was strong, but even stronger was his concern for you as he saw you well up and breathe steadily through your mouth. “Tesoro?” You nodded at him to keep going and squeezed your eyes shut as he sank in another inch. Theo couldn't hold back the moan that left his throat and your whimpers didn't make the situation any better.

“Are you all the way in yet?” you asked, unable to imagine that you could take much more, but Theo shook his head. “That's just half of it, Bella. Want me to stop?” You shook your head vigorously. “No, keep going.”

Finally, with a lot of patience and self restraint, Theo managed to sink into your tight cunt all the way. With a pant, he sank down onto his free elbow, hovering inches above you. Your eyes were squeezed shut, but you breathed steadily and let out the occasional whimper.

“Are you okay?” you heard Theo mutter and you opened your eyes to see cerulean blue. You took a deep breath and nodded. “‘M fine. Just-” you squirmed and Theo gasped, holding your hips down. “So full…”

Theo chuckled at your ramblings and pulled out before slowly moving back in. His steady movements slowly turned from stinging to pleasurable and small “ah”s escaped you as he established a steady rhythm. His breath was hot against your ear. “Fucking hell, bella.”

An embarrassingly loud moan escaped you when Theo hit that spot and you squirmed against his hand that still held your wrists in place. “T-theo!” Suddenly, you felt his hand slip under your back and unhook your bra, discarding it to somewhere unseen. His lips came down to wrap around your nipple and you arched your back off the mattress as his teeth nibbled at the sensitive skin, travelling up your tit before biting down gently and sucking, surely forming a bruise. Meanwhile, his cock still hit the spot that had you falling apart, chanting his name breathlessly.

The sensations were so overwhelming that tears slipped out of the corners of your eyes. You hiccuped, and Theo chuckled against the tender skin of your boobs. A coil tightened in your lower belly, if possible even more intense than the previous ones, and you squirmed pathetically against Theo’s hold. Finally, he released your wrists and they flew to his hair to bury themselves in it. As you felt your climax approaching, you whimpered something incoherent, but he understood.

His now free hand dove down to draw hurried circles around your clit and you jolted as the added pleasure brought you to the edges of consciousness. A scream of his name left your throat as you crashed into your high with full force, your back arched off the bed. His skillful fingers and gentle rhythm worked you through your high when his movements suddenly stuttered and the rhythm grew uneven. As you came down from your high, Theo rutted his cock into you heavily, three times before he pulled out and came onto the sheets.

Panting hard, Theo collapsed on the bed next to you and pulled your trembling figure into his arms. You buried your face in his chest as he caressed your body with soft touches, drawing patterns on the small of your back. When you looked up from his chest, your eyes met his and in your shared look, you tried to convey all your love, all your adoration and affection. You reached for his hand and locked his fingers, and Theo pressed a gentle kiss onto your temple.

"My friends were surprisingly supportive," Theo spoke into the silence and your eyes widened. Foreseeing your skepticism, Theo chuckled. "It might have been because I told them with a drawn wand. But I think Enzo's got a crush on you."

"You're crazy," you said, rolling your eyes. "I can't have two gorgeous men liking me." Even though you couldn't see it, you heard the frown in his voice. "You think Enzo is gorgeous?" You snorted. "I mean... objectively? But don't worry. I like them broody and Italian and stinking of cigarettes." A satisfied hum left Theo's lips as he pecked your temple.

“Ti amo, tesoro,” he whispered softly as he returned your smile. You leaned your head against his bicep and drowned in his cerulean eyes. “Anch'io ti amo, Theo.”

a/n: thank you so much for 300 followers and have a happy new year's eve! see you all in 2025!