#if u need something to fill the time with

[johnwickb1tsch]

lessons in anatomy XIII

a yandere art professor John Wick x drawing model muse! reader AU... (also featuring Matt from River's Edge. If you haven't seen the movie that's ok, I will fill in the gaps as we go...) warnings: dark adult themes, violence, sex, drugs, yandere shit. plz don't read if u can't handle it ->chapter map

XIII.

-You thought you’d done a good job talking yourself up to it, but you are so embarrassed, when you get up on the model stand, and it's time to start class…and you simply can't do it. You freeze, absolutely unable to bring yourself to take off your robe, to expose yourself again after your near brush with…whatever the fuck those creeps intended to do with you. 

“I…”

You don't even know where to begin to explain. You wait for John to say something cutting or sarcastic. To be a jerk about it, annoyed that you're stalling his class.

You watch warily as he approaches the model stand, hands in his pockets, the very picture of the brooding artist. Yet when he looks up at you…there’s an empathy in his dark eyes that squeezes your heart with a fist. He could have pushed you over with a feather when he asks, “Are you alright, y/n?”

Sadly, you shake your head, hugging yourself. “I’m…not sure I can do this right now. I'm so sorry.” You sway on your feet, and he must sense something wild inside you, a mare threatening to bolt, or a statue ready to tumble, because he holds up his hands as though to steady you–those large, eloquent hands with their impossibly long fingers.

You don’t know what possesses you, when you take his fingers in yours, holding on to him like he is a life line. They’re strong, and calloused, and for the first time since waking up after your mishap you feel somewhat anchored to the world around you. 

He lets you hold on to him, his expression softening for you the way it used to, before you had your heated little tiff over Matt’s work. His voice is low, and calming, acting like a balm for your troubled soul. 

“That's ok, y/n. It's your choice. Do you maybe think you could sit for us with your robe on?”

You think about it a few moments before nodding. 

“Alright.” He squeezes your fingers encouragingly. “Let's do some warm ups, then we'll pick a pose.”

You nod, and somehow, this small gesture of support empowers you again to do your thing. 

- You're not sure how he knew you needed it, but in the end you decide on a reclining pose. John produces blankets and pillows from the closet to make you a comfortable nest on the otherwise hard model stand, and you hate to admit it, but…you fall asleep. 

You haven't been sleeping well, and something about being here in this place you love, rather than your cold and lonely apartment fulfills something you've been missing the past few weeks. 

By some miracle, as though even your sleeping brain knows, you do not move from your position even in slumber. It takes a gentle hand upon your ankle to rouse you,  and you wake with a start to find John standing over you. 

The room is empty of students; through the windows you can see that night has fallen outside. Fuck.

“I'm so sorry,” you immediately apologize, bolting up right. The class ends at six. How much longer did you keep him here?

“It’s ok,” he says in his soothing baritone. “Are you…ok, y/n?”

You look at him looking at you so earnestly with those infinite dark eyes–it ties you up in knots, and you feel like you can't hide a thing from him. Like…he already knows, and just wants to give you an outlet to talk about it, if you want. 

“Something …bad happened at the Monster Masque,” you admit in a whisper, looking fixedly at the corner of your blanket beneath you. “I've just…felt weird, ever since.” 

His frown is like a thunderhead, forbidding and beautiful. “Do you need help, y/n?”

You shake your head. “No. I think…the matter is closed.”

“Oh?”

“I think…someone took care of it for me.”

“Who?”

“I…don't know. Maybe someone I met at the ball. I think…” You look to him, drowning, and you can't help but compare his stare to the black satin shine of your Lone Wolf’s eyes. Dear lord, do you have a type. “I think he saved me.” 

John lifts a single dark brow to this. “Sounds like you have a guardian angel, y/n.” 

A shaky little laugh escapes you. “Yeah.” You think that guardian demon might be more likely, but you don’t say it aloud. 

When you dismount from the modeling stand the concrete floor is shockingly hard and cold beneath your feet; your leg tingles with pins and needles, having fallen asleep. You take a step and would have stumbled–-but John catches you, holding you in his strong arms. 

You swear you didn’t do it on purpose, but you find it’s a very nice place to be. There is something hauntingly familiar about being held like this, tucked against his chest with his arms around you. You look up at him from so very close, and you realize something is different. 

“You cut off your beard,” you say, maybe with way more wonder in your voice than the observation actually warrants, but there's something about being able to see the sharp lines of his jaw that moves you to your toes. 

“I trimmed a little.” He doesn't scold you for staring at him like a star struck idiot. He seems…content, to stand like this with you, while you are reeling in this bottomless freefall into deja-vu.

He has a distractingly beautiful mouth, lips full and infuriatingly kissable. You cannot tear your eyes from the lower half of his face; the sum total of its lines strum some forgotten chord inside you.

Is it possible?

Your memory is so fractured from that night. Nothing is clear amidst the bits and pieces that remain to you. The gaps are large as a canyon in your mind, yawning fissures in the landscape of your memory. Whatever those boys drugged you with…it really fucked you up, and just thinking about it makes you want to hide under John Wick’s chin and not come out for a week. 

You decide that you are wishfully projecting your hopes onto this man. That he had much better things to be doing on Halloween, than masquerading around in an animal costume just to flirt with you. 

“Have you been eating, y/n?” he asks, squeezing your sides gently. You suppose he remembers how much padding you had from the last time you were in his hands. The memory of that lightning-charged squabble compared to how he handles you now makes you weak all over again. 

You shrug, embarrassed for some reason. “Not…well.” 

He nods, because he already knew the answer. “Come home for dinner with me.”

“I…would hate to bother you.” Deep down you want to say yes, and yet you cannot shake the dogged mantle of your hesitance. 

“No bother. I think it would be good for you.” 

He's being polite, yet there is a firm insistence in his tone that leaves no further room for argument.

“Okay.” You manage to keep the tremor out of your voice as you agree, and you decide to give yourself a point for bravery. Your score’s been running in the negatives lately, and maybe this will be good for you.

Or maybe you'll ruin it, the way you ruin everything, eventually.

TBC...

___

->chapter map pinterest board/ photo credits

[strawb4kdior]

What You Lost

tysm for ur request - i was gonna put it at the top but i accidentally deleted it but here it is anyway 🫶 hope it's what u meant :)

pairing: Sevika x fem Reader

tw: angst

summary: Vi thought you would always be by her side. But when you walked away, she didn’t realize you’d run straight into the arms of someone else—someone who wouldn’t take you for granted.

The bar was loud, filled with the scent of cheap whiskey and burning cigars, but Vi barely noticed. Her attention was locked on you.

You were sitting on Sevika’s lap, her arm lazily draped around your waist as if you belonged there. The low light of the bar cast a golden hue over your face, making your smirk all the more cutting as you leaned in to whisper something into Sevika’s ear.

Sevika, of all people.

Vi’s fists clenched.

She knew she had messed up. Knew it the second you packed your things and walked out of her life. At first, she thought you were bluffing—that you just needed time. But time passed, and you never came back. Now she was here, watching you with someone else.

Not just someone else. Sevika.

Sevika’s fingers traced lazy circles on your hip, her grip firm yet casual, like she had nothing to prove. Unlike Vi, she wasn’t fighting for your attention—she already had it. And when Sevika turned her head, her lips just barely grazing your jaw, Vi saw the way you melted. The way you had melted for her once.

Her stomach twisted.

You used to look at her like that.

Vi knew she should walk away. But her feet carried her forward before she could stop herself.

Sevika noticed first, her smirk growing as she exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Look who it is.”

You turned, locking eyes with Vi. And for a second—just a second—something flickered in your gaze. A ghost of the past.

Then it was gone.

“Vi,” you said, voice smooth, indifferent. Like she hadn’t once meant everything to you.

Vi swallowed hard. “Can we talk?”

Sevika chuckled, tightening her grip on your waist. “She’s busy.”

Your fingers trailed along Sevika’s chest, teasing the fabric of her vest before you looked back at Vi. “Yeah, I am.”

Vi’s heart pounded. She had been so sure she had time to fix things. So sure that you would always be waiting.

But looking at you now, pressed against someone else—someone who wouldn’t push you away, someone who wouldn’t break your heart—Vi realized she had already lost you.

And Sevika? Sevika knew it too.

So she just smirked, took a long drag from her cigar, and pulled you even closer.

“Better luck next time, sweetheart.”

[gibberishfangirl]

JO TOGAME | but if you insist, then the next time she’s mine!

Synopsis ✰ guys don’t like jo togame cause their girlfriends do

Contains ✰ cheating, cocky!togame, reader has a boyfriend, oral (f!receiving), fingering, togame has long fingers, afab reader, doggy style, toga is huge sorry not sorry, recording, reader gets their picture taken, rough, no use of protection (wrap it before u tap irl pls), mix of praise and degradation, name calling, creampie, meanish-dom!togame, submissive!reader, 18+ / nsfw!

“ah-agh jo!” your voice cracked under pressure as togame’s lewd noises echoed across your room. your hips bucked into his face out of instinct as he harshly sucked on your sensitive clit. he’d been teasing you for what felt like forever. teasingly shoving his tongue in and out of you, loudly slurping up all your juices not letting a single drop go to waste. he thought the way you tried to fight back your moans and gasps was cute. he remembered the time when you would reject his offers despite becoming a blushing mess in his presence. now here you were, blushing and moaning as your hips twitched in response to his mouth on your cunt.

he placed a gentle kiss on your sweet pussy before replacing his tongue with his fingers. his giant body hid yours so perfectly as he rose up to meet your face. you felt embarrassed to meet his gaze as the loud wet sounds of your pussy being penetrated by his long fingers started to fill the room. “feel good princess?” he asked you, the gentle look in his eyes could’ve fooled you into believing that he loves you. Jo let out a small tsk sound after you responded with nothing. you couldn’t bring yourself to answer with the truth. if you weren’t going to answer on your own, he might just need to find a way to make you.

he leaned forward to trap your breasts into his mouth, roughly biting and sucking on your nipples. a gasp escaped your lips only to be turned into a yelp by his sudden pace shift. his fingers were pounding in and out of you in such a lewd way that made your pussy scream. a series of ‘squelch squelch’ escaped from your cunt at every motion of his fingers. “agh- yes! yes! feels so good. so good. i promise.” you felt your eyes water at the amount of pure bliss he was able to give you. “better than him?” he asked. him. a rush of heat hit your face. heat that stems from a series of emotions such as anger, frustration, embarrassment, and guilt. “don’t-“ “don’t what? let you finish?” his actions came to a halt.

“stop.” “stop what?” “being mean.” he couldn’t help the small scoff that came out of his mouth. him mean? when you have your legs spread out for the man your boyfriend hates the most. funny. nonetheless, he stopped for your sake. you still liked to think you were a good person and who was he to tell you otherwise. you hated the way a whine escaped your lips as his fingers left your hole. you clenched around nothing, forming a small pout on your face. “don’t be sad. i’ll give you what you want… like always.” Jo spoils you, that’s something you both were fully aware of. your boyfriend never satisfied you or cared much about your needs in the bedroom. being with someone who did made your heart race.

Jo placed a soft kiss on your lips. not too harshly, kissing you as if you were made out of glass. completely different from the way he usually rails you. his hands were so huge against your waist, almost covering up your torso as he turned you over on your hands and knees. “gimme your phone.” he kissed the back of your shoulder as his hand was reaching over to your phone. “hm? why?” you asked sweetly. your sweet eyes looking back at him without a single thought in them. how cute… you were already so lost before he even got the chance to fuck you the way he wants. “gotta record my pretty girl.” he didn’t miss the way your face turned red.

your stomach fluttered, you were unsure of why. if it was because of the way he called you his pretty girl, his, or because of you secretly loved the idea of being recorded. “kay.” you mumbled as you tried to hide your face from him to stop anymore visual shyness. Jo loved this part. he was so glad he finally got to capture his favorite moment. the way his thick cock stretched out your pretty tight pussy. the amount of whines and tears that escaped you as he did so. he loved to tease you by slowly inserting himself inch by inch… spreading you to his liking. pulling himself out as soon as he got half way in just to repeat the process of it all over again.

“jo! st-oh my-stop teasing me—“ you begged impatiently as you arched your back further against him. you looked so cute to him as you searched for more pleasure. after you turned your head to look at him with pleading eyes he couldn’t hold back anymore. he slammed his hips against yours at a harsh speed. your jaw dropped to let out a scream only to be cut off by a kiss. your teeth clashed against his as he hungrily kissed you. you couldn’t concentrate. the sound of skin slapping skin clouded your thoughts mixed with the pleasure and pain that was coming from him penetrating you roughly with no remorse. you had to tore yourself away from the rough kissing in effort to get yourself together. you couldn’t do anything besides moan and scream. not wanting this to ever end.

“this what you wanted? love to get fucked this way. such a sweet looking girl who loves to get fucked like a dirty slut hmm?” his voice mocking you “look at you moaning like a little slut. just for me right?” “yesyes just for you. promise.” you couldn’t stop yourself as you moaned as if you were some kind of animal in heat. Jo ended the recording tossing your phone to the side. wanting to soak in every moment he had with you. soak in every sound you made and the pleasure he received himself as he buried his dick so deeply into you.

your hand instinctively reached behind making contact with his abs. you weakly pushed him away as an effort to get him to calm down his pace. an effort that went to waste as he simply grabbed your hand and intertwined it with his. your strength didn’t even hold a candle to his. tears of pleasure threatened to leak out of your eyes as he shoved your head down. you felt him so deep inside of you, completely different than what you were used to. thank goodness he relaxed his pace but this new position had him hitting your sweet spot so well. his pace might’ve relaxed but his thrusts were as harsh as ever. your eyes rolled back as you felt your pussy gush around him, squeezing him so tightly as you released yourself on him. it happened so fast you couldn’t even realize that you were so close. your legs trembled almost losing all feeling in them. the only thing keeping you up was his strong grip on your waist.

“it’s okay. just relax pretty girl, i can do all the work.” he placed another kiss on your shoulder before working through his own orgasm. he let out a groan as he looked down and noticed the creamy white ring your pussy was leaving on his length. you were so sensitive you felt another orgasm of your own building right up. your tummy felt hot as you felt yourself clenching around him once more. it took one last hard thrust for both you finish at the same time, your whole body was shaking this time around as your toes curled. none of your orgasms ever felt this good… well, it wasn’t like your own boyfriend knew how to make you finish.

Jo let out a whine as he watched his seed spill out of your pussy. it was overflown by both of your juices mixed together. he grabbed a phone, his phone this time, to take a quick picture of the aftermath of your pussy being destroyed. a flushed red color with white creamy substance spilling out of it. you couldn’t even be bothered to scold him for taking a picture of your used pussy like you usually would. you were so worn out that all you could do was lay there and catch your breath. you let out a cry as you felt his long fingers catch the white sticky substance that leaked out of you and shoved it right back into you. his fingers slowly and gently fucking it all right back into your pussy. Jo was mesmerized by the view, somewhat imagining what it would be like to have this view every night. not just on a random occasion.

“sorry. forgot you get so sensitive.” he snapped out of his trance as he felt your hips tremble underneath his touch. he placed soft kisses down your back as he cleaned you up with some tissues from the first drawer of your nightstand. the way he knew your room layout said enough about the random relationship you two had. he fought back as a laugh as he realized he’s probably been in your room more times than your actual boyfriend has. your boyfriend. right, the guy who wasn’t him. he covered you with your blanket and he threw on his shirt getting ready to leave before you grabbed his arm. “where you going? stay.” you whined. you were clearly still tired and sleepy from sex. but you needing him made his heart melt a little. you had never asked him to stay before. did he really fuck you that good to the point where you became deluded? not that he minded.

“you want me to stay?” “duh.” you sighed as you wrapped your arms around his torso laying your head on his chest. before he could say anything else you were sound asleep. he knew this wouldn’t last long but he figured he should enjoy it while he still can. after all, he did have a crush on you for all these years. he hated seeing you at every party with your boyfriend. maybe if things continue to go well for you two you’ll finally leave him. a man can dream can’t he?

[itsnesss]

do u think u could write for anthony again? Maybe reader & him are enemies yet there’s a tension between them (they’re obviously crushing on each other) and what happens next is up to you 😭🙏🏻

𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐲 | anthony larusso × fem! reader

summary | rivals in the dojo, you and anthony clash constantly—until a heated sparring match ignites something neither of you can deny. the tension builds until one night, it finally explodes

warnings | slow burn, rivals-to-lovers, unresolved tension, heated sparring, kissing

word count | 1.0 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

From the very first day at the dojo, Anthony Larusso became your biggest problem. Not because he was a karate prodigy or had an intimidating presence, but simply because he was unbearable.

Every time he saw you, he had a sarcastic comment, a disguised taunt, or an observation that made your blood boil.

"Was that supposed to be a kick, or are you practicing ballet?" he mocked one day, effortlessly dodging your attack.

You rolled your eyes, trying not to fall into his game.

"At least I don’t need to hide behind my dad’s last name to be taken seriously," you shot back with a smile.

His brow furrowed for a second, but he quickly recovered with that arrogant expression you hated so much.

You didn’t know exactly when this rivalry between you two had started, but it seemed like it wasn’t going away anytime soon.

And yet, every time you argued, every time your eyes met, you felt something strange in the air. Something you refused to acknowledge.

Because you and Anthony Larusso were rivals. Period.

Or at least, that’s what you wanted to believe.

Things changed when the sensei decided to mix up the sparring matches.

"Today, you’ll be facing new partners," he announced.

You listened as he assigned the pairs, but the moment you heard your name followed by Anthony’s, your expression tensed.

"Seriously?" you muttered under your breath.

Anthony, on the other hand, just smirked.

"Hope you're ready to lose" he said, rolling his shoulders.

You lifted your chin with determination.

"Don’t celebrate too soon, LaRusso."

Both of you stepped onto the mat, getting into position.

"Hajime!" the sensei ordered.

You wasted no time attacking. You launched a series of quick strikes, but Anthony blocked them effortlessly.

He countered with a low kick, which you barely dodged. Each of you was trying to outmatch the other, as if this wasn’t just a sparring match but a personal battle.

The movements were intense, but deep down, you knew there was something else there.

Every time your bodies clashed, every time your eyes locked… the electricity in the air was undeniable.

And that distraction cost you.

In a split second, Anthony swept your legs, and you hit the mat hard.

Before you could react, he was already on top of you, pinning your wrists against the floor.

Your breathing hitched instantly.

Both of you were panting, faces just inches apart.

For some reason, Anthony didn’t move away immediately.

And the worst part? You didn’t try to push him off, either.

His gaze briefly flickered to your lips.

Your heart pounded in your chest.

"What…?" you tried to say, but your voice barely came out.

Anthony smirked.

"You fight well… when you’re not getting distracted by my face," he murmured.

Your expression hardened.

"You’re such an idiot!"

With a swift movement, you pushed him off and broke free from his hold.

But even after the match ended, you couldn’t get that moment out of your head.

And judging by the way Anthony looked at you after that, he hadn’t forgotten either.

From then on, the tension between you two became unbearable.

Every conversation was filled with hidden meanings. Every accidental touch during training sent a shiver down your spine.

And then, one night, everything exploded.

You had stayed behind at the dojo, practicing after class. Unfortunately, Anthony had done the same.

"Don’t you have anything better to do than stay here?" he said, leaning against the wall.

"Don’t you?" you shot back without looking at him.

Anthony stepped closer.

"I don’t care what you do," he said, but his tone didn’t match his words.

You gave him a challenging look.

"Oh yeah? Then stop looking at me like that."

He tilted his head.

"Like what?"

You didn’t answer. But both of you knew the truth.

Both of you knew exactly what was happening.

And instead of arguing again, instead of denying it one more time, you decided to do what you had been avoiding all this time.

You grabbed him by the collar of his gi and kissed him.

Anthony froze for a second, caught off guard.

But after that moment of shock, he kissed you back with just as much intensity.

His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer.

It was a kiss filled with anger, frustration, and all the tension that had been building up for months.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathing heavily.

"Tell me I hated that," he whispered, resting his forehead against yours.

"You tell me first," you murmured, not letting go.

But neither of you said a word.

Because both of you knew the truth.

And for the first time, neither of you tried to deny it.

After that night, everything changed.

The fights between you two continued, but now they had a different meaning.

Every punch, every taunt, every challenge felt different. More intense. More dangerous.

And even though you both pretended nothing had happened, the tension was still there.

Lurking.

Waiting to explode again.

And deep down, you both knew it wouldn’t be long before it happened again.

Because what you felt for each other wasn’t hate.

It was something much more complicated.

And much, much stronger.

[mintypsii]

mini sanusos 🤫🤫

[silusvesuius]

this drawing is from a couple mouths back now; ......but i still like it 😝 forbidden love as witnessed by ms. Varona. it killed off my traditional art kick when i was done with it, but i had fun. i used very faint watercolors for this one just to see how well i'd do with them and pencils together. my favorite part of it is this tree, love how it looked in this WIP pic i took:

and some random bits of the drawing but closer because i do love pencils as yk✍

had to compress the whole pic a bit cus it was huge, but a version that's a bit better can be seen heare, still not the best it could be, still crunchy, but better nonetheless

[toxintouch]

Started out as an elaborate “draw me like one of your French girls” joke and spiraled outta control from there... @lu-dao-writes posted the same scenario in their Kinktober 2024 and they were kind enough to give me their blessing to post my take! Please check out their fics as well!  If this scenario in particular interests you, I rec you this post! :3

Further details below the cut so that the above the cut stays safe for anyone who is just scrolling through!

18+ Content MDNI || VERE x AIS x Reader

PROMPT/KINK(S): Dom!Vere, Dacryphilia (Tears)* + Cockwarming + Size Difference + Consensual Voyeurism. Power Play. (Some feral monsterfucking spice sprinkled v lightly on top.) [*original challenge prompt, randomizer used.]

OTHER INFO: “You” pronouns used for MC/Reader. Unspecified genitalia for both POV Character and Vere but Ais has a dick. Reader is the receiving partner in penetrative sex.

“Hmm, hold that pose,” Vere purrs.

Ais huffs a hot breath into your face as he freezes above you.  His brows furrow, mouth twisting into a determined grimace as he grits his teeth.  His forearms tense hard where they are resting on either side of you, fingers flexing against the silken sheets.

You can feel him pulsing inside of you.  A hot, insistent ache.

You try to relax, try to breathe through it but the lack of movement makes you hyper aware of every inch, the raw feeling of him stretching you open, the way your body twitches so sickly-sweet with the effort.  You inhale a slow, shaking breath, chest trembling, and shut your eyes in an attempt to block out some of the sensations—the clawing need gnawing at your core.

“Eyes open, darling,” Vere corrects you, tone somewhere firmly between scolding and teasing.  “And turn your face back towards Ais.  I’m trying to capture the moment .”  Your heart is pounding in your ears but you can hear Vere’s smooth, sly voice with perfect clarity.  Ais is an overwhelming force but Vere is a magnetic presence; no matter how caught up in each other you and Ais can get, Vere will always command attention without effort.

You turn your chin as requested, only to be caught in Ais’ gaze

(Caught and breathless–the same way you were when he was bullying his thick length into your hole, thrusting sharply and sighing in satisfaction, his fingers still at work massaging and pressing and stroking as he sunk into you inch by inch; he'd prepared you until your entrance was puffy and swollen, sopping with thick, medicinal smelling lube and he still had to take his time.  Fucking you slowly until you could take all of him.  And then, the moment you finally could...)

“Hmm, that's better.  Stay just like that.  Let me see those pretty expressions.”  You hear Vere adjusting his heavy vellum paper.  The glide of quick, clever lines being drawn.

You maintain eye contact with Ais, drunk off his breath, his body, the very essence of him, hovering so close above you, and are utterly unprepared to meet his intensity.  The way he looks at you like he’s seconds from devouring you, barely held in check by the challenge that Vere has laid before him.  Before both of you.

You bite into your lower lip as you shift involuntarily, oversensitive nerves still riding the throbbing of Ais’ dick.  He’s so fucking thick and girthy that he presses at the soft spot inside you without even trying. The angry pulse of him is a gratifying thrum, stoking your aching heat by way of mere burgeoning contact.

His cock gives another strong twitch and your insides clench around him.  He feels so fucking good–you almost think you might be able to come like this, if you can get your body to keep on clenching like that. 

—Almost.

Your next breath comes out as a sob.  There’s a high pitched whine building at the base of your throat and your lashes are wet when you blink.

A monstrous snarl escapes Ais’ lips, one that you can feel even more than you can hear, the vibration of it echoing through your body everywhere you're pressed against him.  The pinnacle between your thighs pulses with it, and your toes curl involuntarily as an errant tear runs down your cheek.  Ais is shaking, sweat dampening his face, his pupils expanding and contracting rapidly, his eyes locked on you as he barely holds himself back.  “Sparrow,” he says, gravel in his tone. 

You say his name in return, your head tipping involuntarily, bearing the softness of your throat, faded marks from both your lovers decorating your skin.  You hear the sheets rip below you, torn into shreds where Ais’ nails have dug into them.

Vere sighs pointedly.  You hear him stop his work, tap his charcoal against the paper as if he’s not entirely satisfied with the scene in front of him.  He pauses for a long time, leaving you both in limbo.

When he moves, it’s to stand.  To saunter over to you both.  You’re pinned beneath Ais, unable to look away, but you can feel Vere’s shadow fall over you just before his hand touches your face, forcing your eyes to his as he catches a crystalline tear with his index finger.

“Shame,” he says, dipping his fingers into his mouth, his tongue lapping up the taste of your tears, lavishing the digits with his tongue.  You whine out a desperate, quiet note just from watching his tongue at work and he basks knowingly in the attention.  “I really thought I could get you both crying.”  He smiles dangerously once his fingers have left his mouth. 

He uses them to drag a wet path down Ais' spine.  “Oh, but the night is still young.  Perhaps I may still think of something that will do the trick...”

18+ Master List | SFW Master List ✦"Kinktober Speedrun & Other Gratuitous (TOUCHSTARVED) Smut" on Ao3

[transmechanicus]

Kind of hard to ask as anon

But you doing ok?

Need to vent?

Hi very kind and thoughtful of you to ask, i am doing mmmmm suboptimal but i do not need to vent to a person per se, so much as i need to say absolutely insane shit in my tags and have everyone pretend not to see <3

[seventh-district]

.

[gemini-queen42]

I was originally gonna joke abt how me straightening out cogs's feet from my wonky pencil sketch resulted in screwing up my attempt at keeping their heights like.. proportional on the ref sheet to how I want them & stuff (unlike Amalure & Lefou's ref) but then I noticed.

This probably looks?? insane??? maybe is?? At least might be/look so with the info that: These are ALL sketches. just sketches. Only a couple details & refinements away from being ready for the lineart. and as you can tell, they've all been done.. just completely differently?? for like no reason???

[johnwickb1tsch]

lessons in anatomy XIV

a yandere art professor John Wick x drawing model muse! reader AU... (also featuring Matt from River's Edge. If you haven't seen the movie that's ok, I will fill in the gaps as we go...) warnings: dark adult themes, violence, sex, drugs, yandere shit. plz don't read if u can't handle it ->chapter map

XIV. 

-He lives in one of those stately old homes in the heart of the city, built for the wealthy in the turn of the last century. Its three darkly painted stories tower over the street, one in a line of several down the block. The house is beautiful, but slightly crumbling, like a woman who is aging with grace, wry about her well-earned cracks and wrinkles. 

You love it before you’ve even set foot through the front door. 

As soon as his key touches the lock you are greeted with a cacophony inside; a deep woof and a higher pitched bark that surprises you. You don’t know why, but you didn’t picture John Wick as a person with pets. 

“Brace yourself,” he warns, before two very friendly fur babies have you surrounded. A beautiful blue pitbull sniffs you and leans on you, and an adorable little beagle jumps up on your leg for attention from The New Person. 

You don’t know how it’s possible, but the weight you’ve been carrying around for nearly two weeks just seems to evaporate off your shoulders. You could cry, but you crouch down to say hello instead, getting doggy kisses from both sides. The beagle pounces into your lap, knocking you over. “Daisy…” John admonishes, though the smirk he wears belays any real disapproval. 

“Ok. I’m healed,” you say, seated on your butt on the hardwood floor in the foyer with the dogs around you. This wins you a deep chuckle you’ve never heard the likes of from this severe man before.  

“I thought they might put the sparkle back in your eye.” 

You look at each other from this uneven vantage, and a warmth kindles in your belly that is made of something more than lust. You should feel ridiculous–you should be mapping your escape path and preparing to run–but somehow…you are just content. 

“Come on, y/n.” He offers you a hand up from the floor, and after he pulls you to your feet with one of those impossibly strong hands, he doesn’t let go of you until you get to the kitchen. 

-John Wick sits you down at the island, and doesn’t let you lift a finger as he warms soup and makes you both grilled cheese sandwiches with gruyere and aged cheddar on rosemary bread. Its decadent and wonderful and he looks at you from across the table with such warmth that you dare lean into the feeling that maybe everything will be alright. 

Foolish, you know, but you need it right now. 

Let reality come crashing in later. Sharing this meal with your boss in his dark kitchen, his adorable dogs both laid out at your feet…is too perfect to be true. You find its easy to talk to him like this. It feels like he’s surprisingly open with you, indulging your curious questions. You ask him about his house, the art on the walls, his travels, his choice in pets. He tells you that Daisy was a gift from his wife the night of her funeral. “She saved my life,” he admits, reaching down to scratch her soft ears. You’re not sure if he means Helen, or the dog. 

Both, perhaps. 

“What about Dog?” 

“I sort of…stole him, from a kill shelter back in New York.” He says this with a neutral expression, save the lift of one eyebrow. 

Your eyes widen at this. “A kill shelter? But he’s so sweet?” 

“I doubt he ever hurt anyone. Just…overcrowding, I think.”  

“He’s a lucky boy. That was brave of you.” Like he knows you’re talking about him, Dog sits up to put his block of a head in your lap. Or maybe he knows you’re down to your last bite of grilled cheese… It’s possible you slip it to him under the table.

John shrugs at your comment, pretending not to see this bit of dog-spoiling happening right under his nose. “I was just…in the right place, at the right time.” He doesn’t offer more, and you don’t push. As if you needed more reasons to go weak in the head for this man…

You continue to talk long after your bowls are empty. When he offers to pour you a glass of wine you don't say no. One might think you'd be leery of alcohol after your misadventure, but you decide you trust John. The vintage he chooses is a Chilean Cabernet that you find is the perfect end to this unexpectedly pleasant evening.

Your feet bump his under the table, his long legs curled up in the breakfast nook sized space. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he tells you with a soft smile, resting his big foot over yours with a playful smirk. It makes your treacherous heart flutter, and you decide you like this side of John Wick. You find you're still not sure if he's flirting with you, or just being kind. Either way…you are content.

When the conversation lulls you reach out to take his bowl to the sink, but he waves you off. “I’ve got it, y/n. Relax.” 

You sigh, but do as you’re told. 

“Can I use your restroom?” 

“It’s down the hall, to the right.” 

“Thanks.”

You wander to find it, looking around as you go. The house is all darkly stained woodwork and paneling a la the Victorian age. John has filled many of the blank spaces with pieces of art, some you recognize as his, but plenty of others too. You know to worry if an artist only hangs his own work in his home, a sure sign of egotism that is in no short supply in this world. 

You find the bathroom and do your business. The fixtures are charmingly antiquated, and you’re certain that somewhere in this house there must be a clawfoot tub. When you exit a half-cracked doorway at the end of the hall catches your attention. You can see the outline of an easel, maybe a canvas or a sketch tablet. 

Is it his studio?

You’re so curious you don’t even think to stop your feet that start to make their way down the hall. You hear John still in the kitchen, clinking the dishes, scraping the soup pan. 

You’ll just…peek. 

You know you shouldn’t, but it’s like something outside of your body draws you into the room. You flip the light, and slowly step inside. 

It's a large space, tall ceilings and a bank of windows that take up the whole back wall. In the daytime this room will be flooded with light, and a view of the backyard. Now, it is a wall of black, save the glow of distant street lights. 

The contents of the other walls take your breath away. 

Drawings. Paintings. Sketches and full studies. Half portraits and full body compositions. From forward and behind, close-up and afar. 

They’re all of you. 

You slowly spin in a circle as you look around, holding your breath, your hands upon your heart. The sheer amount of work on the walls is staggering. 

This is obsession materialized in charcoal and ink and oil. 

“This is awkward.”

With a gasp you turn to find John’s tall, dark form filling the doorway, blocking your exit.

You are fucked.

TBC...

___

->chapter map pinterest board/ photo credits

[watery-melon-baller]

Lads i have Fucked Up Big Time

[naomiknight-17]

My mom knows that pasta makes me sad because it reminds me of the hardest, poorest times in our family's history

But the last two family dinners she's invited us to, she made pasta as the main dish. Two weeks in a row

Come on, man

[doqqy]

i have got to stop checking the social media of people i’m no longer involved with before i drive myself crazy

[iamnotlookingidonotseeit]

day one million and one of the struggle of whether to come out to my parents or not

[kisakunt]

BABY TRAP? LIKE THE MOVIE WITH THE TWINS?

description… you two are meant to be. sealed by fate, star crossed lovers. you’ll keep each other around however you need to.

warnings… dark content! baby trapping! noncon! obviously they’re being baby trapped they say something trying to stop it. consensual sex. full penetrative sex.

a word from the writer… i’ve had this in the drafts for aWHILE. it’s about time. do yall still read dc? i’ll never stop supplying… are we too woke now?!

TRAPS YOU

you’re hot under him, and he’s making that face he always makes right before he cums. it’s like repetition; eyes blanked out, mouth ajar but not fully open, brows furrowed like he’s desperate— and it’s scary.

“baby,” the word is cut in two with how fast he’s going, tease of pain as he hilts into your cervix with every thrust. “baby, you’re not wearing a condom.” your voice is uneasy, shaky from the movement and pleasure and build up. you think, in a way, the way you have sex is unfair. he gives you so much, orgasm after orgasm, rubbing your clit as he drills you to the point you go fucking stupid.

you feel safe with him. sex is sacred with him, no matter how sick it gets. but right now, with your calves pressed into his shoulders, his hands pushing your thighs impossibly back, you feel uneasy.

“baby, baby, pull out.” he gasps, sweat dripping down right near your eyes as a shaky groan escapes him.

“fuck,” a chaste kiss to your forehead, a shakiness in his movements, an unmatched rhythm as he gets closer and closer. “fuck. oh my, god. you feel so fucking good— so fuckin’ good.”

and so does he. but you’re scared.

“you’re gonna make such a good mommy, gonna be such a good mama. gonna— gonna give you my babies. gonna get you pregnant, gonna make you mine.”

“hey, wait,” your hands raise to his chest but he hits that angle that makes your eyes roll and they fall back. it feels so good you almost don’t care. “baby, baby, baby stop. baby, you gotta pull out.”

“you’re gonna be such a good mommy. gonna give you my kids. gonna give you my kids.” and it’s instant. it’s before you can even think— if you could anyway— it’s pressed so deep in you you betray yourself and cum, too.

he places his head to yours, kisses you greedy and whole, and whines into your mouth. it’s him, it’s real, it’s love. but— and you know this— it’s something so wrong.

“did you just…?” and before you can finish your question, he’s regaining his rhythm, fucking his cum into you with a half hard dick. it’s precise, it’s calculated, it’s intention.

he looks at you, eyes wide, breath heavy, and gives you a little grin. “gonna keep fucking you even when you’re pregnant, baby. gonna make sure i can keep you all to myself.”

GOJO, GETO, SUKUNA, YUJI

GETS TRAPPED

your legs hurt. you’ve been on top for all of thirty minutes, which you have no one to blame other than yourself. you love to edge him, love to get him so close and then take it all away from him. you think it gets him a little addicted.

but right now, as he squirms under you, losing every ounce of masculinity he’s ever had, something takes over you.

“gonna cum,” it’s breathless, short and sweet. “oh shit, i’m gonna cum.” you think he must think you’re edging him again. you think he’s expecting you to slow down, stop all together, pick up off him fully for ten or so seconds and then slam back down.

but you pick up the pace, grinding your hips into his, hitting his pelvic bone with your own as your hands grip at his pecs.

“wait, are you—” he falls apart under you, voice failing him, body failing him, hands only finding the strength to grip at your hips. “baby girl, i’m gonna cum.”

it’s melodic, tactile and articulate, a steady flow of bounces while your squelch fills the room.

“sweetheart, you gotta stop.” your right hand lifts from his chest to his mouth, shoving your fingers between his lips while he groans. he’s so easy to you, for you, because of you.

and then you feel it, milk it, relish in it— the way he comes undone at your touch, loses himself deep inside you. you don’t say a word about it, don’t think about it too much as you press your wet fingers to your stomach.

it’s a quiet giggle as reality washes over him. he looks cute, you can’t help but realize, panic and flushed under you. you’re sure of it then; he’s gonna be a sexy dad.

MEGUMI, NANAMI, CHOSO, TOJI