#wool carpet cleaning

[tomscarpetcleaning]

How to Clean Wool Carpet?

When it comes to maintaining the luxurious look and feel of your home, few things can compare to the elegance of a wool carpet. Wool carpets are not only soft and comfortable but also durable. However, like any other type of carpet, they require regular cleaning and maintenance to ensure they stay in pristine condition. In this comprehensive guide, we will delve into the intricacies of cleaning wool carpets, from spot cleaning to handling tough stains, and even how to perform a deep clean at home.

How to Spot Clean Wool Carpet

Spot cleaning is the first line of defense when it comes to maintaining your wool carpet’s appearance. Accidents happen, and spills are inevitable, but knowing how to address them promptly can prevent permanent damage. Here’s a step-by-step guide on how to spot clean your wool carpet:

Blot, Don’t Rub: If you spill something on your wool carpet, blot… Read more

[chemdryquickdry]

Wool Carpet Cleaning | Chem-Dry Action

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wool carpet cleaning

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

thinking about puppet tattoo parlors. A wall covered in so many different thread colors to choose from - swatches of different types of stitch for different textures / effects. modified handheld sewing machines for tattooing with multiple settings for the different stitches. individual needles + embroidery thread as stick n pokes...

[twogriffons]

the boy dog im looking after had an upset tummy and had a few accident (on carpet 🥲) and his reactions have really reminded me of how erie has never felt sorry for anything a day in her life

this guy is so sensitive, and giving me big sad eyes, so im cleaning his poop up with a smile on my face and trying to have really good energy about it so he doesnt feel bad 😭

meanwhile when erie sees me clean up her messes she doesn't give any fucks. ive never made her feel bad for making a mess or having an accident and it really shows

[rebeccccccaaa]

Poker Face!

_______________

Spencer Reid x Reader

:: It’s game night at Rossi’s, a little pasta al dente, poker chips from Emily’s place, and a little too much Italian red wine. Poker after hours becomes a new playing field when you and Spencer decide to finish your game of blackjack back in his place. ::

:: warnings :: smuttt! and super mushy gushy fluff, sex under the influence (both parties drank alcohol), strip poker (kinda you’re playing blackjack), afab!reader, no mention of contraceptives oops...

:: authors’ notes :: i didn’t realize until i finished the story that spencer probably has his own poker set, he’s literally from vegas; anyway thanks for all the love on my last fic too sweet, hope you guys enjoy this one just as much <3

WC~ 3.1 k

________________

“Ok, ok! That’s enough!” Emily shouted, swinging her glass around. 

“Careful, Prentiss. This carpet is fine Italian wool. Gifted from my first mother-in-law,” Rossi scolded, Hotch chuckling beside him. 

“You guys are relentless,” she continued.

“I can beat him, I know it!” you shouted, your eyes comically wide. 

“No shot, sweetheart. Reid is literally banned from every casino in Vegas, you think you can really beat him?” Derek commented.

“I may not be banned from Vegas casinos, but I never lose Blackjack,” you argued.

“Honey, you’ve lost eight games in a row!” JJ shouted, laughing and holding her stomach. 

“Nevermind that! I’m gonna beat you Reid, if it's the last thing I do,” you narrowed your eyes playfully at Spencer, who sat as dealer with a giant grin on his face.

“I hate to interrupt this incredibly captivating game of Blackjack, but I’m kicking you out. It's late and an old man’s got to get some rest,” Rossi interrupted, erupting a series of ‘Boo’s’ and groans. 

“Come on, come on. Call your DD’s, call your taxi cabs. Or if you want to stay, you can start washing the dishes,” he bargained. 

Suddenly, all at once, everyone stood up practically scrambling and giggling like kids to avoid cleaning up. Penelope, Emily, and Derek hopped into a cab and Hotch drove JJ home then himself considering he hadn't anything to drink that night. That left you and Spencer, lingering on the sidewalk nudging each other in a fit of giggles. 

“I assume you’re gonna take a cab?” he asked you.

“That’s the plan.”

“So we can share since I don’t live far from you. I’ll walk from your place,” he suggested. 

“Oh no, no. Look what I snatched when everyone started leaving,” you pulled out the briefcase of poker chips that Emily had brought for that night out of your tote, “We’re going to your place and finishing what we started.” 

“Oh boy, you have no idea how long it's gonna take. We’re gonna be up all night!” Spencer laughed, and you gasped. 

“You’re an asshole,” you shoved him, before calling a taxi.

You squeezed in the back of the cab, legs bumping against each other. You felt your skin light up, you’ve always felt a certain way about Spencer. I mean who wouldn’t? Well actually, not a lot of people. You always tried to hide the pangs of jealousy or your faces of reluctance whenever the women you were working with or interviewed on cases would flirt with him, unnecessarily albeit. This happened more often than you care to admit or notice. 

You walked into Spencer’s apartment, tossing your bag on the couch before falling to your knees and putting the briefcase on his coffee table. You opened it up and began shuffling the cards, quite intensely to make sure Spencer wasn’t going to cheat. You knew he wasn’t, his brain was too smart, but you did it for confidence instead. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asked from the kitchen.

“Whatcha you got?” you asked.

“I’ve got a couple of beers, probably a little old. Oh, I still have the bottle of wine that Rossi gave to us for the new year,” he told you.

“Oh! Bring the wine! We’ll drink the beers later,” you winked at him, “Let’s get the fucking party started.”

It was late into the night now. You lost count how many times you’d lost to Spencer already. Just a couple of hours passed, and the wine was almost finished. You and Spencer couldn’t stop laughing and wiggling around. As Spencer shuffled the deck, a request you made him do after every turn, you came up with a devilish idea. One that would definitely get you in trouble should the outcome be anything other than what you would hope. 

“Ooh,” you cooed, mischievously.

“What?” Spencer questioned.

“Oh, nothing, just had an idea,” you were smirking, or rather trying really hard not to burst into laughter. 

“This can’t be good,” he mumbled, shaking his head. 

“Why don’t we spice things up, shall we?”

“No, no way,” Spencer already knew what you were going to say. 

“Strip Poker!” 

“No!” he shouted, a big smile on his face contradicting his words.

“What, you scared? Scared that suddenly I’m starting to beat you and you’re gonna have to take all your clothes off?” you teased.

“No, I am a gentleman and I’m not gonna sit through watching you take all your clothes to prove a point,” he argued sassily.

“You are way too confident for your own good, Dr. Spencer Reid. You’re just chicken.”

“Ok, fine then. You dealer, or am I?” he asked, pouring the last bit of wine into your cup. 

“Why don’t you hit me this time,” you said. 

“You got it,” he responded, “Care to shuffle while I grab the beers?”

“Of course. About time we crack those open,” you smiled widely. 

Now sitting down, face to face. Staring intensely at each other for a moment, hints of mischief and amusement in both your eyes. As you shuffled the cards well, Spencer couldn’t help notice the way your eyes were practically sparkling in the warm light of his apartment. How soft your skin looked in the light too. He doesn’t know when it happened. If it happened just now, or maybe he’s always felt this way about you. 

Maybe it was those times where he felt a little more protective over you than the others on more brutal cases. The feeling of responsibility for you, to guide you, when you first join the team since you were the same age. Or maybe it was when you let him practically talk your ear off about peculiar facts regarding the case you had wrapped up. The small smile of your face knowing he thrived in these moments. The sweet giggle you let out when Morgan and Prentiss groaned knowing he would begin yet another tangent. 

Yeah, it was definitely then he realized how special you were and how much he wanted to keep you in his life; in more ways than one.

But in this moment, when you handed him the cards with the most devilish smirk on your face, Spencer felt a wave of avidity, longing for you more than he ever has before. He felt so conflicted about the game you were about to play. He respected you so much and yet craved to see you, to have you, in this very way for so long already. He didn’t know what to do. He dealt the cards however, entertaining the idea, and you tapped the table for cards before taking a big swig of your beer.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, Spencer’s breath hitched. 

You took off your earrings first and Spencer quirked an eyebrow. 

“What? Were you expecting me to take off my shirt right away?”

“No,” he shrugged before giving you the deck to shuffle again. 

“I swear to-” you cursed, pulling off one of your rings this time.

Your shoes came off, then your socks. All your accessories were scattered on the table before you. The last game you stood up unbuttoning your pants. Spencer clenched his jaw, averting his eyes downward as you peeled your pants down your legs. It took quite literally everything in him to not drool over you. You sank back down to the ground, the bottom half of your body shielded by the table and Spencer looked back at you again. He dealt the cards. You asked for a card, and Spencer knew then you would lose. The probability was certain. When he hit Blackjack and you didn’t, Spencer gulped and you sighed in defeat. 

Staring boldly at Spencer, you disrobed your last garment that would give you some kind of modesty. Your bra is on full display with nothing else but your pair of underwear. You had a crucial decision to make if you ended up losing again and you were seriously considering that would be the case, the butterflies erupting violently in your belly. 

“We don’t have to keep going,” Spencer cleared his throat.

“And why would I do that?” Maybe it was the alcohol in your system that gave you this sudden courage, this seduction. You were starting to have fun seeing Spencer squirming on the couch, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. You suddenly wanted to egg this round on as long as you can. 

“Ok, then,” he muttered, as he dealt the cards, slowly this time.

Spencer had a face down card, assuming it was a value of ten like always, and an eight. You had a seven and a three, you were fucked. You needed an ace and you’d hit blackjack, or you could build up; but that’s risky. Maybe Spencer can go over. You had a chance, you know it. Your chest was moving fast and shallow, but your face was stoic and firm. Spencer on the other hand was antsy; his eyes frantic and his leg bouncing. You knew he was staring at your chest. You planned to use it to your advantage. Was it fair game? Yeah, yeah it was. It wasn’t your fault he was distracted.

“Hit me,” you egged.

“You got it,” he responded. 

A five. Fuck. 

Spencer hit himself and he drew a seven. Those are bad cards. He most likely went over and you might actually finally beat him. 

“One more time, boy wonder,” you snapped. A six. A beautiful six of hearts. 

“I stand,” he mutters, probably knowing he lost. 

“Let’s see those cards, baby,” you teased.

“You first,” he told you, and placed your cards. 

“Blackjack, baby!” 

Spencer laid his cards revealing his seven and eight and underneath a nine, he busted; the cards of course. You won, you finally won. You jumped up in celebration, prancing in your undergarments around the room giggling and cheering. 

“I did it! I fucking did it! I beat the boy genius, fair and fucking square! You lose Spencer, loser!” you shouted taunting him and he couldn’t help the smile painted in his blushing face; he almost forgot you were prancing around almost naked in the middle of his apartment. 

“I- I was distracted,” he shuttered. 

“Damn right you were,” you joked, squeezing your breasts to flaunt them in his face. 

“It wasn’t fair game,” he bantered.

“It wasn’t fair game, my ass. I won and you lost, and you’re being a sore loser,” you mocked as you walked towards him like a panther, playfulness and seduction dripping from your tongue. 

Spencer took the moment you walked near and grabbed your wrist yanking you to stumble into his lap. You were shocked, surprised, a little turned on. You held onto his shoulders, your breathing a little quicker than before. You tried to convince yourself it was from the celebratory dance and not the growing bulge from Spencer that poked you from beneath. 

“I told you, I was distracted,” he told you, his hands finding a place at their hips. Fingers caressing delicately the hem of your underwear. 

“Blah, blah,” you whispered.

“Don’t give me that.”

“Now, Spence, I believe there is something you have to do, is there not?” you whispered.

“What’s that?” he bantered.

“You lost.”

“Right, unfairly I might add,” he joked.

“If all you’re gonna do is talk, then let me do the honors,” you told him. 

“Be my guest.”

Your fingers pulled gently at his tie he wore, pulling over his head and tossing it to the side on the floor. You started unbuttoning his shirt, Spencer staring with heavy eyes at you as you did so.

“I thought we were only taking off one item. We should play another round then if you want my shirt off,” he teased you, bringing his hands to gently hold your wrists.

“Like that’s gonna happen,” you rolled your eyes playfully. 

Spencer relaxed against the back of the couch as you unbutton his shirt all the way. You brought your lips down to kiss softly at his collarbones and his shoulder. Moving along his chest to kiss the other side. His hands moved slowly against your hips, fingers sliding between the fabric of your underwear and your skin. Your skin erupted in chills, a tingle running through your spine making your ears feel hot. You dragged your nose along his strong jawline before nipping your teeth playfully against his cheek. 

He brought his hands up, fingertips tracing your spine until he reached your bra. He skillfully unhooked it leaving you a bit breathless for just a second but a second too long. You could feel it, without even needing to look at him, to know he had such a teasing smile on his gorgeous face. You wanted nothing more than to kiss it off him. 

You shrugged your bra off, tossing behind him giving him a playful wink which made him chuckle. You brought his hands to your breasts as you pulled his head towards you by the back of his neck to kiss him feverishly. Something you both had wanted to do for quite some time now. You wiggled your hips a bit, feeling the prodding against your center, which made Spencer groan lowly in the kiss; his hands squeezing your breasts hard in discomfort. 

“Fuck, you’re gonna drive me insane,” he told you.

“Let me say hi to your little friend, Spence. Or do you want to play for that too?” you taunted him.

“God, no. I couldn’t wait a whole other hour for you to beat me again,” he bantered making you scoff and roll your eyes; his hands shot straight to his zipper to pull his pants down just enough for the both of you. 

You were practically itching to get your panties off. Standing up suddenly, both you and Spencer reached instinctively to pull them off you, his lips attaching themselves to your soft belly and hips. He freed himself from the constricting fabric of his pants and pulled you down, or rather yanked you to him. You couldn’t help the bubbly laugh that came from you making Spencer smile blissfully. 

You bite your lip as you reach between your bodies, lining Spencer up against you perfectly. The warmth radiating from you was driving him crazy. It took everything in him to not suddenly take control and rut his hips against you. You sank slowly down on his length, not so little, you thought yourself.

“Oh jeez, I feel like I could come already,” you gasped, the pressure building in the pit of your stomach felt already overwhelming. Maybe it was the fact you hadn’t had sex in years. You felt starved of this kind of touch, this kind of intimacy. The kind of feeling of Spencer’s cold fingertips touching and gliding across your skin like you were glass. Yeah, that was the feeling you didn’t know you needed, you didn’t realize you craved so much until this very moment. 

“I’m a bit embarrassed to admit the same,” he chuckled breathlessly, “If you don’t start moving, I’m not gonna be able to hold myself back any longer.”

You took this as the green light to start rocking your hips back and forth. One hand resting against his cheek and the other stabilizing yourself against the frame of the couch. Spencer’s hands rocked with you, his way of helping and understanding the rhythm you were going. He started, with gaining confidence, to buck his hips into you and that’s when the pleasure began to build. You panted heavily above him, moans every now and then escaping your mouth to echo against the walls of Spencer’s small apartment. 

“Shit. You feel so good,” he breathed out, “I thought I’d last longer.”

“Please, please don’t come yet,” you begged; bringing your forehead to his. You could see his skin becoming shiny with sweat, his cheeks flush with redness. Spencer, determined to make you come before him, or at the very least with him, reached between your thighs rubbing fast and swift circles against your clit. Your hips jerked with pleasure and Spencer’s name dripped from your lips like honey. 

“Oh, that’s it,” Spencer whispered. His free hand came up and pulled you in a passionate and sloppy kiss. His tongue entwined with your and you moaned wildly as did he. His brain was fuzzy, not that your’s wasn’t also, with the sounds of sex, the rhythm of your hips, the warmth of your slick soaking his fingers. 

“I’m close, fuck I’m so close, Spence,” you whined.

“Let go, sweetheart.”

“Ngh!” you moaned loudly. You dipped your head forward resting your forehead in the crook of his neck. Your bodies were so close, your bare chests pressed against each other. You both could feel the other’s breath and slowly you began to match each other’s erratic rhythm the closer you got to your climaxes. You messily pressed your lips against Spencer’s one last time before the wave of electrifying pleasure overcame you. 

When you came down from your high, all you could feel and hear in that moment was Spencer. His soft pants brushing your ear, his arms cradling you close, his subtle leg shaking from what you assume was him also coming with you. 

“That was really good,” you giggled.

“It really was,” he agreed.

“I’m gonna tell everyone about this,” you whispered wickedly. 

“What?” Spencer questioned fearfully. 

“I beat you in Blackjack,” you reminded him, making him laugh loudly. 

“Give it a rest you would?” he sighed. 

“No way. I’m gonna tell everyone. And everyone’s gonna tease you because I beat you fair and square. Unless, you wanna admit that my boobs were distracting you from your card counting tricks,” you teased.

“Alright, you won fair and square,” he smiled blissfully at you, his eyes soft and gentle in the warm light.

You giggled sweetly bringing him in a tender kiss, definitely not for the last time that night. Your bodies were entwined for the rest of the night until the tepid sunrays peaked meekly through the curtains of Spencer’s bedroom window. The two of you sharing giggles between the sheets with his arms embracing you the way they had been all night. Needless to say, blackjack continues to be your favorite poker game. Especially now more than ever. 

[reviewtv]

[360infotechreview]

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[cheollipop]

gentle

navi | taglist

pairing: owner!seonghwa x bunny!reader x fox!wooyoung

w.c.: 2.6k

tags: smut, fluff, hybrid au, fem reader

desperate and whiny, your heat pheromones triggered wooyoung's feral instincts, forcing seonghwa to step in and teach him how to treat you properly.

warnings: dom!seonghwa, switch!wooyoung, sub!reader, heat cycles (f), unprotected sex (👎), multiple creampies, multiple orgasms (f&m), breeding kink, use of restraints (leash and collar), nipple play, hwa is referred to as daddy a few times, brat taming (kinda, wooyoung is too eager for his own good), cum eating/swallowing, cum everywhere, so much cum, wooyoung used to be a stray so he struggles with controlling his animalistic instincts, nicknames (baby, bunny, darling; youngie; hwa, daddy), aftercare

A/N: I've had this idea in my notes for quite a while now, and I've wanted to write for this pair for just as long, so I'm really happy I finally got it done :"" happy reading!

nsfw under the cut - minors dni!! 🔞

*₊°。 ❀°。 *₊。 ❀°。• *₊°。 ❀。 *₊°。 ❀°。

A silent home was an unusual occurrence. In most cases, Seonghwa came back to a brightly-lit apartment, it’s two other occupants racking up the electricity bill in his absence. This time, however, it was pitch black, the living room illuminated by the single lamp shining through his open bedroom door. He looked around as he walked through the room, taking in the mayhem that had broken out between the four walls: a broken vase by the coffee table, water pooling over the carpet where a bundle of roses laid lifelessly; the couch cushions thrown haphazardly around the room, only a few left in their place, Tom chasing Jerry on the TV across from it. Walking further into the house, he noted the untouched food bowls by the kitchen’s entryway and finally allowed worry to flood his system. Seonghwa was used to his two hybrids’ rapid footsteps as they barrelled their bodies towards him the second he walked through the door, climbing his body and nuzzling into his clothes. He was used to empty bowls and whiny pleads for dinner. And despite their playfulness, he was used to coming home to a fairly clean apartment, perhaps being met with wide, glassy eyes in case they had broken something while he was at work.

A soft whimper slipped through his open bedroom door and Seonghwa’s legs moved on their own, panickily rushing through the doorway and halfway into the room before stopping. His eyes widened and his leather work bag slipped through limp fingers as he scanned the scene unfolding before him – the fox hybrid covering you with his body and consequently folding yours in half, your legs thrown over his shoulders as he bucked his hips into your used cunt. Seonghwa’s eyes trailed down to study where you connected, the vulgar squelch of his cum being relentlessly fucked into you, streaming out of your hole and soaking your bunny tail, the ball of fur vibrating weakly at the overstimulation.

Seonghwa had taken Wooyoung in after spotting him dragging an injured leg along the side of a busy road, nursing him back to full health and realising he had gotten too attached to the cheeky fox to let him go. You had been shy and dismissive of the curious hybrid when he first entered your home, perhaps even a little jealous when Seonghwa spent a little too much time caring for him rather than doting on you. It took the fox a few days to open up to you, and only a little over a week for you to realise that Seonghwa was right: It was hard not to love Wooyoung. It surprised Seonghwa at first when you suddenly became accepting of the other hybrid’s presence, welcoming the insistent kisses he pressed to your twitching nose and cuddling up to him on the carpet where the afternoon rays warmed the luxury wool.

After a few months of the stray fox’s move-in, Seonghwa’s surprise faded into fondness whenever he found you and Wooyoung all over each other. But this? This was unusual – Wooyoung’s tail stiff and pointed horizontally, a deep growl muffled through his gritted teeth as he ploughed his cock into you, emptying load after load into your sopping heat. You met Seonghwa’s eyes, your face turned sideways on the tear-soaked pillow, the bottom half of your face wet with a mixture of Wooyoung’s drool and your own.

Your lips widened and closed, stuttering out a few broken moans before managing to form barely-coherent words. “I, Hwa- hnngh! I-I can’t-”

The tone of your voice – desperate and pleading – broke Seonghwa out of the trance he was in, quickly crossing over to the bed and wrapped his arms around Wooyoung to pull him away from you, earning himself a brute growl from the hybrid. Seonghwa watched as pearly ribbons painted your lower belly and mound, Wooyoung’s cock twitching as he came again, immediately standing back up and Seonghwa had to tighten his grip around him to keep him off you. Wooyoung’s gaze fixed on your fluttering hole, his tongue rolling out and drool dripping onto his lap while his eyes followed the trail of cum streaming out of your cunt and pooling over the sheets where you laid.

For a few seconds, Seonghwa did the same, but he quickly tuned out the throbbing in his work pants to tend to you. He was quick to take notice of the familiar flush coating your cheeks, your eyes glazed over and unfocused and your round tail twitching every few seconds – signs he was all too familiar with. You were in heat.

“Oh, darling,” he cooed, moving Wooyoung away from you and sitting down on the edge of the bed by your waist. He cradled your face with one palm and used the other to push your hair off your face. “Your pheromones must be affecting Youngie… Are you okay?”

Looking up at him through your lashes, you blinked a few times before nodding, your whole body tingling under Seonghwa’s touch. “I feel so full, Hwa…”

Seonghwa’s eyes moved down your body until they reached your core: your index and middle fingers spreading you open to show him Wooyoung’s cum overflowing from your fluttering hole as it clenched desperately around nothing. He managed one breathy curse before Wooyoung’s head lowered onto you to lap up his own release, a sudden cry leaving your lips as you grabbed at your owner’s sleeve. Seonghwa tore away from your grip to move the hybrid off you again, grabbing him by the back of his neck and angling his head to face him.

“Wooyoung-ah,” Seonghwa warned, steadying him with a cautionary look.

The stray turned docile at his owner’s tone, his ears falling flat against his head and his tail drooping. “B-but… ‘want bunny to have my kits. ‘Gotta make sure she’s full of Youngie’s cum…”

Swallowing the saliva pooling in his mouth, Seonghwa ignored the fully-formed tent in his pants – twitching and throbbing when his eyes flitted down to your dripping core – and relaxed his hold on Wooyoung’s neck. “You have to be gentle with her, Youngie. You can’t be that rough or she might get hurt,” he smoothed his palm over the fox’s head, lightly scratching behind his ear.

Seonghwa was too distracted admiring the soft blush tinting Wooyoung’s cheeks to notice your hand moving up his leg, inhaling sharply when you cupped his clothed bulge. They both looked down at you – nuzzling your cheek into Seonghwa’s thigh while your hand worked over the hard outline of his cock.

“Can daddy show Youngie how I should be treated?”

--

Wooyoung leaned forward just enough for the leash to tug on the collar around his neck and restrict his airflow, pulling back and panting heavily before leaning forward again, lips parted and drool pooling on the sheets between his legs. He fluttered his eyes shut and welcomed the steady rhythm of skin-on-skin echoing between the four walls, knowing Seonghwa’s cock was drilling his cum into your tight cunt. He opened his eyes again to take in the sheen of sweat covering both your bodies, Seonghwa’s hips relentlessly slamming into yours. It was as though your pheromones were affecting him too despite him being human; you could tell he was barely holding on, trying to maintain a sliver of control over the situation to keep you grounded.

Having spent years with Seonghwa, nothing satiated your need to be bred like he did, grinding his cock into you in a way that sent hot waves of pleasure soaring through your body and fogging up your brain. All you could think about was Seonghwa, Seonghwa, Seonghwa – his fingers gripping the soft skin of your thighs, pushing one down onto the mattress and holding the other around his waist; his mouth periodically pressing against yours, swallowing up the soft melody you sang for him before peppering kisses all over your flushed face. Your whole body shuddered under his when he drove you into another orgasm, praise rolling off his tongue, his voice sweeter than honey while he guided you through your nth high.

“Fuck, good girl,” Seonghwa praised, brushing his palm over the side of your head and dipping down to peck the tip of your twitching nose. “More, baby?”

You nodded desperately, using the leg around his waist to push him closer and further into you.

"So desperate to be bred," he chuckled. "Wanna be fucked full of my cum, hm?"

“Please, please-”

He silenced your whines with a harsh thrust, the corners of his lips tugging upwards when your features relaxed, ecstasy flooding through your body. He looked to the side, taking notice of Wooyoung’s dick – the tip an angry red, leaking an obscene amount of precum – and how his eyes fixed on where the two of you connected, transfixed by his owner’s cock pumping his own cum into your stretched hole, pushing some out to dampen the soiled sheets under you.

Seonghwa let go of your hip to unclip the leash from Wooyoung’s collar, instead grabbing the leather and tugging the stray down to your chest. He didn’t waste a second before latching his mouth onto your perked-up nipple and sucking harshly. Trailing his lips over the slope of your breast, Wooyoung whispered against the slick skin and smiled slyly at the shiver that shook your body, “Gonna be so pretty when they’re swollen with milk.”

His hands remained behind his back – following the firm instructions Seonghwa had given him while securing his leash to the bedhead – digging them into his lower back as he resisted the urge to touch you. Instead, he licked his way back to your nipple, taking it between his teeth and biting down a little too hard, the sharp pain pulling a broken cry from your lips. Long fingers tangled in the hair at the crown of his head and tugged harshly, making Wooyoung face upwards to meet Seonghwa’s burning irises.

“What did I say earlier? Are you gonna be a good boy and listen to me?” Seonghwa growled, his other hand smoothing a thumb over your breast while he stared down the fox hybrid.

Wooyoung stuttered, mewling under Seonghwa’s stern hold, “I’ll be your good boy, I promise! Please, please, I’ll be so good-”

Seonghwa pumped his length between your pulsing walls to push out a dribble of the cum the fox had pumped you full of, scooping it up with two fingers and carrying it to Wooyoung’s open mouth. The hand still holding him up tugged at his hair to sit him up before stuffing his fingers down his throat. Seonghwa began grinding his cock into your heat at the sight – Wooyoung’s eyes glassy with unshed tears, his throat constricting around the long fingers fucking his own cum into his mouth. The older man knew he enjoyed being used like this, taking notice of how his cock twitched violently between his legs at the rough handling.

Seonghwa’s eyes moved back to you – whimpering under him and rolling your hips, seeking out more friction – but he continued making Wooyoung gag on his fingers. Once, twice, and the stray was painting your chest and belly with hot ropes of cum, moaning pathetically as he came untouched, the rough prodding of his owner’s fingers against his uvula enough to drive him over the edge.

But then you were cumming, clamping down on Seonghwa’s cock and deriving a breathy curse from his plush lips before he began pounding into you. Slipping his fingers out of Wooyoung’s hot mouth, he dug them into your hips and chased his own release. Your orgasm prolonged with Seonghwa’s relentless thrusting, you arched your back and gripped on Wooyoung’s thigh as the man on top of you drove his cockhead into your swollen gland, airy moans rolling off your tongue with the mind-numbing pleasure Seonghwa so generously gave you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he panted, “so perfect, the both of you, shit-”

Seonghwa was so close, a hair away from giving you what you desperately wanted. “Please, ‘want daddy’s cum,” you pleaded, the overstimulation violently shaking your legs. “wanna have hwa’s babies, please, fill me up- hnngh!”

He thought he’d cum from that, but then Wooyoung was bending at the waist, licking a stripe over your heaving belly to lap at his own release, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed it down. Seonghwa came with a throaty groan, speeding up his movements before slowing them down to grind his hips into your pulsing cunt, milking himself of every last drop and fucking it into you until it mixed with Wooyoung’s seed.

The next twenty minutes were a blur, Seonghwa guiding Wooyoung into the shower before coming back with a damp cloth, delicately running it over your body to clean you up. You asked him not to wash out the sticky mess inside you, and upon seeing your wide eyes and the trembling of your bottom lip, he couldn’t help but do as you asked. He placed feathery kisses over the clean skin, fighting the shivers shaking your figure. Whining when he got up to leave, Seonghwa raked his fingers through your hair to calm you down, waiting with you until a head of damp hair peeked through the doorway, the stray fox instantly jumping onto the bed to cuddle into your side. Secured within Wooyoung’s arms, Seonghwa detached himself from you to hop into the shower.

Wooyoung’s lips grazed over your neck, pressing into your pulse point while his fingers caressed and squeezed at your waist and hips. “I’m sorry for hurting you,” he muttered shyly, pulling at your heart strings.

Your fingers carded through his dark locks, scratching behind his ear until pleased hums vibrated against your neck. “You didn’t hurt me, Youngie, it felt good, but... could you be more gentle next time?”

Wooyoung peeled himself away from you and nodded quickly, pressing frantic, open-mouth kisses all over your face while you giggled. You spotted your owner leaning against the doorframe, a towel wrapped around his hips and fondness painted across his features as he watched his two hybrids love on each other. You reached out in his direction and made grabby hands, a grin splitting your face in half when he moved towards you with a breathy chuckle.

Tucked in between the two men, you allowed their warmth to seep into your skin, the delicate kisses planted over your shoulders, neck, and face making your body shake with giddy giggles. You knew your heat would pick up again soon, and the desperate need to be bred would take over you once again, but for now, you allowed the comfort they gave you to lull you to sleep, their steady breathing guiding you into a pleasant dream.

Seonghwa rubbed soothing circles over your hip, gluing himself to your back and moving the blanket to cover you and Wooyoung’s shoulders. He noticed the other’s man’s gaze snap back up, previously fixed between your legs to follow the trail of cum seeping out of your used hole. As though he was a teenager who’d been caught watching porn, he tried playing it off by pretending to be asleep, but his exhaustion took over him and his breathing slowly evened out. Seonghwa simply watched him, endeared by the hybrid’s high libido, always ready to pounce on you if you gave him the chance. Wooyoung nuzzled into your neck, his arm thrown over your waist and his fingertips brushing over the other man’s skin. Seonghwa’s own drowsiness pulled his eyelids shut, the world around him fading away and Wooyoung’s meek mumbling echoing in his head as he drifted away:

“I wonder how it feels to be so full of daddy’s cum... I bet it feels nice.”

apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[ataraxiaspainting]

Careless Whisper.

Yan Gojo x F Reader.

Synopsis: After a long game of playing hard to get, Satoru finally gets you to go on a date with him. But you didn’t expect him to choose a farmer’s market of all places for it to happen.

Warnings: Yandere themes, threats of kidnapping, manipulation, and stalking.

Continuation of There is an Uproar.

Word Count: 1.6k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

This Could Be Us by Rae Sremmurd

Get Up by NewJeans

Supermassive Black Hole by Muse

Bathroom by Montell Fish

Hotel by Montell Fish

Money Trees by Kendrick Lamar (feat. Jay Rock)

After Hours by The Weeknd

Government Hooker by Lady Gaga

Do I Wanna Know? by Arctic Monkeys

The Walls by Chase Atlantic

“You’re killing me; don’t you see that you’re the winner of the game?” – Benét, Killing Eve

*~*~*~*

You hold onto the basket like a lifeline. 

You grasp the handle so tightly it leaves a mark on your palm and the inner parts of your fingers, and you can practically feel splinters impaling them.

They say the devil takes on many forms, and if it were said that the devil could take the form of a white-haired man with sunglasses in whatever religious texts you were given in your childhood, you would believe that without question.

The identity of whoever or whatever forced you on this little outing is not human. You know this. He can’t be. If he is, your view of humanity will decrease tenfold from where it once was.

Should you pray to all the higher powers and heavens above that he is or is not?

“Come on, let’s get moving!” They say monsters speak in either honeyed, calm, and sweet voices or grimy and croaky ones; but this one is neither. “I kinda want to pet a chicken.”

*~*~*~*

“There’s my girlie!” 

You were not surprised in the slightest when Satoru pulled up to your door with a Rolls-Royce. At the sight and the called-out nickname, you even roll your eyes and cross your arms, much to the driver’s amusement. The car is adorned with lamb's wool carpets, embellished with stunning wood and milled aluminum accents, and encased in box grain leather. Only the highest quality materials for the all-high and mighty Satoru Gojo. It is the topmost privilege for a mere mortal like you to even see it. 

“You ready?” As you ever will be.

“Yeah.” Your response is quick and to the point. “You still haven’t even told me where we are going for this… date.”

The smirk that appears on his face instantly gives you the impulse to slap it off. But he is stronger, and will most likely not let you, because he is the one in control and not you. So, as he beckons you closer, you close the car door behind you and sit down on the leather seat. The drive to hit him still stands for as long as you anticipated. You just look out the window and hope it goes away.

It is nice outside. Though if Satoru’s foot was not on the peddle, you would have liked it more.

It’s spring now. The grass is bright green and tall, and you could swear that you can smell it. Tiny circles of flowers are there now and then. Dandelions and daffodils mostly. You could count them if Satoru was not driving so damn fast you think he is speeding.

He put your purse and phone in the back seat because, of course, he would want no distractions to stop you from paying attention to him.

He starts talking about how nice your dress looks and how happy he is to have you as his girlfriend.

You want to puke.

It would take at least two weeks for the smell to go away. He would have to clean it up because you would refuse to. Any damage done to his ego no matter how small is a win in your book.

You could picture it now. Satoru, long plastic gloves on his hands and wearing an apron, scrubbing the expensive carpet stained with bile and looking disgusted with you. Maybe he would give up on you then.

You almost laugh at the thought but decide against it when he starts talking with a smile that does not exactly reach his eyes.

*~*~*~*

He is tailing behind you like a grim reaper.

The black turtleneck he is wearing you suppose could count as a cloak. His face is white enough to be a skull, his hair helping you see it in your mind. All the expectations he has for you could be considered a guillotine’s blade that is ready to be let loose at any moment. Maybe a scythe. Don’t lose your head. That is what you keep telling yourself as you go down the aisles of sewn aprons and freshly baked bread and chickens wandering not too far off from the butcher’s cutting board. Don’t lose your head.

So, you keep walking to not be the victim of Satoru’s wrath.

“They’re so cute!” He exclaims, bending down to get a better look at the rabbits that are trapped within the confines of the barbed fence. “I just want to take one home! It would be like having another you around!”

His cooing makes you want to stab your eardrums out with the plastic fork you were given along with a free sample of chicken pot pie.

But you can’t ignore him either, he yearns for your responses like an addict.

“I’m not a rabbit.” You roll your eyes. Satoru responds by turning his head at you and then turning it again to make a visibly confused expression. “I’m a human. Not a pet. Not something to… lock up.” As his countenance turns somber and a hint of amusement lingers, the playful aura dissipates. Your breathing hastens, and your heart races. Perhaps voicing your thoughts was an ill-advised choice. Maybe an alternate utterance would have been wiser. Any alternative, for that expression, is one you wish to never witness again.

As you struggle to catch your breath, Satoru's steady grip on your shoulder brings a faint awareness to your hyperventilation. He calls out your name repeatedly, trying to reach through the haze of tears in your eyes. However, his words offer no solace or relief.

“Come on! Of course, you are.”

Maybe you will puke after all. But not on purpose like you originally intended.

His smile feels like a stab to the chest. Everything he does feels that way.

“...What do you mean?” What exactly does he have planned for you?

How far back do they go? Days, months, years, decades?

“You’ll see. You’ll like them, I know you will.” His hand clasps over your free one like a noose. “Either when you first know them or further down the line. I’ll be with you every step of the way no matter what you think. But just know I only have your best intentions at heart, okay? I can promise you that at least.”

“...Mmhmm. Let’s just… get moving.” Once again, you are off within a labyrinth of stalls.

You liked farmer’s markets during the warmer months, with your family and friends during school breaks and vacation times. Is that why he chose this place? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe he also likes them. However, you cannot process the words Satoru and farmer’s market in the same sentence.

You pictured him bringing you to some nightclub and forcing you to dance under disco lights and loud music until you nearly faint from exhaustion. As much as you don’t want to admit it, maybe this is the better option.

You can’t imagine any other option. It could be worse. Those threats of his can easily become true, he could just lock you up in his penthouse and refuse to let you leave.

So, you don’t complain. You don’t want Satoru to get upset, even if you haven’t seen him that way.

“We’ll eventually move in together. Get married further down the line. Maybe have a kid or two, if we are really up to it, though I don’t mind if it is just the two of us.”

For once, you hope Satoru chooses his initial thought. You don’t want to bring any child into this hell.

“Romantic, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

His finger traces the bridge of your nose downward and the tip of it presses on its end.

“Boop!”

“Sigh…”

He does it again.

“So cute…”

“Let’s just continue.” You try so hard not to seethe. “I heard at this specific market they have good lentil soup. Focaccia too. Let’s go.”

He nods.

“Okay! We’re off!”

There is no escape, is there?

“It should be by the coffee stalls if I remember correctly.” You don’t get to finish because of course Satoru found a brand new interest to fixate on.

Aprons. Specifically, the pink lacy one that he is holding gently like a baby. “[First]! Look! You should wear it. It suits you!”

You shake your head immediately. To this, Satoru frowns. You’re hungry after being hauled around from stall to stall for the past hour or so. Can’t he understand that?

He holds the apron up closer to your face.

You turn away from it. Satoru only puts it closer. He really can be stubborn. That is what got you in this situation in the first place. As stubborn as you sometimes are, you can hardly compare to him. But that is with most things. 

Money, power, influence, he will always have more than you will, won’t he? Damn it. No escape. Not from him.

Not from him.

But you can try, can’t you? You can at least try. “Come on! It would look so cute on you.” You shake your head. His frown only deepens and he sighs.

Then he shoots you a look again. The look demanding of you to be good or else. The look that gets you to obey him every time he uses it. Every time he puts his foot down. 

Don’t lose your head.

Evade the blade.

“Good,” He says, handing you the apron with the smile you unsurprisingly prefer over the hellish expression he just showed you. “Go.”

You do.

Damn it. As long as Satoru keeps toying with you, you won’t ever be able to find peace. No escape. Damn it.

You slip the apron on as he watches, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

[charnelhouse]

press the gas and ride

gif by @riley-keoughs pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader (nicknamed Dolly) word count: 2.4k+ summary: comfort in a car warnings: hurt/comfort. smut. angst. A/N: this takes place a month after teacups, but no need to read. tlou ep 3 spoilers. this is really just trash smut. Joel Miller Masterlist

She watched Joel's expression buckle as he read the letter. His brow furrowed, the muscle in his jaw tensing. She looked away, suddenly feeling intrusive. She'd never come here with Joel. His trips to Bill were semi-frequent, but this was the first time he’d brought her. Of course, he hadn't expected this. He hadn't thought they'd be walking into a dead house. 

The fresh air through the open front door bullied the stench of rotten meat and vegetables. The dinner on the table buzzed with flies. There were starched, ironed napkins folded in triangles with lovely patterns of woodland creatures. She traced the tiny squirrel sewed into the fabric before studying the label on the wine bottle. She was intent on busying herself. She wanted to give Joel space, but he'd been more paranoid than usual since the attack a month ago. 

I don't want you out of my sight.

She hadn't stopped aching. Brutal. Horrible. She'd slaughtered two people, and her mind continued to spin with the memories of it. She was unable to remove the taste of blood from her tongue. She could not unhear the shuddering death rattle or unfeel the way the man beneath her had wriggled and then spasmed like an electrocuted rodent.  

Joel had also seemingly lost his cool that night. After he'd tucked her into bed, she'd heard him smashing up the first floor. In the morning, he'd refused to let her see what he had done and when she fell apart again (in the safety of their QZ apartment), Joel wouldn't have it.

He'd crouched so they could be eye-level, large hand cupping the back of her skull. "They got what they deserved. Nothin' more than that."

He was right, but teaching her head to stop was easier said than done. 

She scanned the dining room before settling on the mahogany cabinet full of delicate china. When she noticed the powder blue and white teacups, she winced. She couldn't escape it. Everything triggered her. She needed to learn to grow up and out of her pain because it wouldn't serve her and certainly not Joel. He bulldozed through everything, and she had to follow suit. 

Joel cleared his throat. He had stopped reading and was staring out the window, far away. She intended to bring him back to shore. 

"They have a car?" she asked, and Joel's eyes swept toward her. Inscrutable. 

"Yeah." He scraped a hand over his mouth. "Yeah."

***

Joel guided her to a guest room, instructing her to clean up and be ready in an hour.

He'd found her a box of women's clothes that she happily dug through. The very idea of new outfits felt celebratory- even if they smelled a bit stale.

The musty fabric reminded her of her grandmother's closets. She'd used to hide behind the wool coats and leather shoes, toes snug in the sea-green carpet. She'd get light-headed on mothballs. 

Her family was gone. A long time gone.

She supposed Joel was the only person who really gave a shit about her well-being. If she died, he’d have the memory of her, at least. She wouldn’t be dust.

After she showered, she yanked on a sundress and sneakers. Joel would undoubtedly say something, but she was past caring. She stared at herself in the mirror, petting the floral-print bodice. She twisted side to side, the breeze from the open window licking between her legs and under her arms. 

She thought of Bill and Frank in the next room and abruptly stopped. Morbid. Strange to be so fine rummaging through a house when two dead men were feet away. Their window was open, too, and she wondered if the sweet brush of cool air had cradled them into the next life. She stepped forward, pressing her ear against the wood. She listened, tapping her fingertips over the wallpaper. 

Silence. She tapped again. Waiting.

"What are you doing?"

She whirled around to find Joel standing in the doorway with a towel around his waist. He'd combed his wet hair back, but a single strand boyishly drifted over his forehead. The scars across his torso gleamed white under the naked afternoon sun.

"Nothing." She shifted her weight, the dress swishing with her. 

He frowned as he scrutinized her outfit. "You can't wear that."

"Because?"

"Because you can't do shit in a dress that short," he replied flatly. 

She put her hands on her hips. "Can I just wear this today? It's-fuck-it's the prettiest thing I've worn since-since I don't know." She averted her eyes, feeling childish at her reasoning.

Because I want to be beautiful for once. I want to look beautiful for you and not covered in grime, blood, and jeans, two sizes too big. 

The expression on Joel's face flickered between irritated and puzzled. She thought he might stride across the room and tear it off her. 

Once in a while, he'd give her shit about things like this-pecking at her for enjoying luxuries that didn't exist anymore. He'd call her a spoiled brat when he really wanted to tick her off. Instinctively, she knew he was doing it, so she'd snap at him, deal him back with a rough hand. 

He always won and she assumed he’d win here, as well.

She expected him to say no, but he took a breath instead. Running his hand across his chest, he massaged an old bullet wound hidden in the sparse hair before turning back into the hall. White flag. 

Then, his voice pitched so low it grazed the floor. "Fine."

***

The letter must have softened him. Repeatedly punched him until he was a tender, pliant piece of meat. He hadn't even twitched when she snatched two guns too massive for her off the basement wall or smuggled a box of wine into the car.

His hands scraped over the steering wheel when he slid into the front seat. He stared blankly at the dash and then the manicured driveway. The grass was just beginning to creep away from the lawn, encroaching onto the asphalt. 

She wasn't sure how to deal with this. He usually seemed to take death in stride. His grief was like a chalky, oversized pill, but he swallowed it nonetheless. He'd made it clear that he didn't even like Bill yet...

"I'm sorry," she offered.

"Take your feet off the dash," he ordered stiffly.

She scowled but did as she was told, figuring she didn't need to push Joel Miller’s buttons again today. She settled into her seat, hands prim in her lap as she waited for him to begin driving.

He didn't. 

He continued to sit silently, seemingly unable to turn the car on. The hand around the steering wheel tightened, his scabbed knuckles flexing and paling beneath the windshield. His nostrils flared, and she suddenly knew:

He was going to crack. He was going to burst down the middle, and he needed her. 

Abruptly, she crawled over the console, gripping him by the lapels of his button-up to balance her weight. The fresh clothes looked good on him-the plaid green shirt fit his broad frame like a glove. She nearly toppled into the door before he grasped her wrist roughly. “What are you-"

"Shh," she murmured, straddling his lap. He stared at her. 

Joel wore his grief in the creases of his face. His pain. His anger. He was beautiful to her. Sexy in a way that couldn't be understood. Older, too. Older than any man she'd ever had before, but it wasn't like she'd had that many men, to begin with. 

"I'm here," she whispered, her thighs squeezing around his own. His mouth parted, exhaling. 

She wondered what undercurrents ran beneath his skin-his armor. What did he think about? How did he see her? 

She lifted herself onto her knees, and Joel's hands automatically seized her hips. Unbuttoning his jeans, she tugged the zipper down, and his eyes found hers. Good. Coyly, she licked her palm before gripping his half-hard cock. She stroked him slow, glancing down to watch the blush-red head disappear in the circle of her fist. He shuddered, hips lifting a few inches off the leather seat. 

She intended to be fast about this. Pleasurable consolation was a language she knew Joel understood. 

“I’m going to fuck you,” she said and he shivered under her touch. He remained silent as the grave though his eyes never left hers. Perhaps, he was struck dumb by her forwardness.

She clutched his shoulder as she braced herself before sinking down and guiding him into the heat of her cunt. She'd worn the sun dress for a reason. 

Joel made a gritty, strangled noise as she took him to the hilt, lowering herself until his thighs were flush with her ass. The band of his jeans grazed her skin, the metal of the zipper catching flesh. His nostrils flared as she tightened, walls spasming because he was always a little too big. 

Wordlessly, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, forcing his face against her chest. He sighed deeply as she rocked forward, his fingers biting into her waist. It could hardly be called a fuck, just her grinding down and him pushing his cock upward until he couldn't claim another centimeter. 

She cradled the back of his skull, rooting her nose around his damp hair that smelled like clover and a scent she recalled from before - something generic and artificial like Irish Spring. 

Finding leverage was proving difficult, but she did her best. She rose up, keeping him halfway inside her before sliding down. Repeat. In her defense, she’d never fucked anyone in a car before.

One of her hands snuck out the open window to grasp the top of the car. It was dusty, and she had this ridiculous worry that maybe someone would crawl into the garage and bite her hand. She ripped it back to cup the side of Joel's face instead. His mouth twitched, his lids heavy like he was drunk and dazed. He didn't even care she had smeared old car dust into his beard. He'd have to shower again. She would, too, and she wanted to laugh at the strange coincidence of paving new roads in their relationship through hot showers. After all, he'd wrenched her away from a panic attack in that house outside Boston. He'd held her in the shower, mouth brushing her ear.

"You did a hell of a job."

"You did so fuckin' well, sweetheart."

She swelled from the memory of Joel's praise. She wanted to pay him back.

"I've got you," she murmured against his temple, nails tracing a line across his scalp through his thick damp grays. "I've got you, Joel."

He nodded-or she thought he did. His gestures were always so vague. Sometimes he'd hold her down and fuck her brains out while telling her how much he wanted to kill her for being stupid and acting recklessly. It would then always end with him possessively clutching her body to his.

You send mixed signals, Joel. 

What?

You said you wanted to kill me, and now you won't let me go.

I never said that. 

She felt him twitch inside her, his mouth dragging across her clavicle before he abruptly shoved the top of her dress down and latched to her nipple. He sucked it, tongue darting over the nub and causing her pussy to clench around his length.

"Sweetheart," he mumbled. 

"I know," she said. 

Their grief sat between them - a weight strung about their ankles, dragging them down to the deepest parts of whatever was left. She knew blips of his pain as he knew hers. He comforted her in the ways he understood, not necessarily with words but with actions. She could do that for him now, remind him that he had her.

She rolled her hips, and he groaned, his breath puffing against her sternum. She snagged him tighter and dug her grip into his skin like she was holding fast to a rock in a riptide. The car was so small, the steering wheel bumping against her lower back, and you could hear everything.

The rustle of fabric. The squelch of her sex and slap of skin. 

Finally, Joel planted his feet and began to drive up into her. Short, fast strokes that hit just right. It almost hurt. It gave her a belly ache, but everything else fell away. The car filled with his low, subdued grunts and her whimpers. 

He secured his arms around her waist, one hand sneaking to the base of her scalp to embed his thumb into the muscle beneath her ear. They were tangled in such a way that it would have looked like anything - they could be devouring each other, feasting on the other's throats as they fucked fast and sad.

Somewhere along the way, Joel tilted his head and demanded her mouth.

He kissed her fiercely, tongue hot and aggressive as it wrestled with hers. Exploring. "Baby," he sighed against her slippery teeth. "Fuck."

Joel, her man of few words, but just the right ones. She still didn't call him anything but his name. Nothing else fit him.

"Shit," she gasped as he delivered a harsh thrust. Stay with me. Stay focused.

Her climax paraded around her belly, kicking up dirt and shouting out toward a faceless crowd. It was turning in circles, unable to find the finish line. He was screwing her tectonic plate deep, but the friction wasn't enough for her to get off. It didn't matter. This was about him. Not her. 

He gripped her hip and shoved her down before spearing up, grinding in slow, determined circles. He left her mouth to find her throat, sucking methodically at her pulse. 

It didn't take too long after that. He grumbled something into her jaw (maybe, Dolly) before his hips stuttered beneath her. She felt him fill her, warmth blooming outward. She'd have to deal with that, but for now, she worshiped him. He lifted his face, flushed from exertion - golden, bright, and devastating as his dark eyes searched hers.

“You’re good,” she praised, pressing her lips to his chin.

When she crawled off his lap, she was sticky between her legs. He huffed, tugging at the edge of her dress as if trying to hide her modesty. 

No one's around here, Joel.

No one. It's you, and it's me. It's us. 

She was sore as fuck, like she'd been smacked in the crotch. Her orgasm was lost somewhere, hanging by a few threads, but she didn't want it. Instead, she craved the longing-the lingering frustration of her missed pleasure. She brushed her hair out of her face and smoothed her dress.

"That was-"

She was hauled back over to him. Their brows bumped, noses jamming together before Joel kissed her hard. When he finally pulled away, he asked, "You feel safe with me?"

"What kind of question-

"You feel safe with me?" he urged, hands seizing her cheeks. She wondered if it had something to do with what had happened at that house a month ago. The teacup house. Or was this because of what had been written in that letter beyond Bill and Frank's goodbyes?

She felt that if she probed, he would splinter. It wasn't her business. She told him the truth. 

Smiling, she placed her hand over his. "Yes," she assured him. "I always feel safe with you."

Joel took a breath, nodding once, before pulling away. He stabbed the keys into the ignition, twisting them north, and the car rumbled to life.

When they left the garage, she watched the walls creep over him again. 

[digitalagepulao]

The new guy is... interesting

Wukong is the last to be acquired by the pilgrimage group, and between Wujing and Wuneng's glowing testimonials of his horrific deeds, everyone is rather on edge. Wukong having 500 years worth of rusty social skills and pent-up energy certainly doesn't help soothe the other's concerns. It's an uphill battle to get everyone used to their new younger brother, though the fillet helps a bit.

every time i remember the poor guy was been fed molten copper, all i can think is the aftermath of a forge's project, and... yeah, that first bath is gonna be like those heavy duty carpet cleaning videos. hope their host has some steel wool on hand.

[chemdryquickdry]

https://www.chemdryquickdry.com.au/carpet-cleaning-protection/wool-carpet-cleaning/

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cleaning wool carpet

[penny-anna]

Trying to vacuum my living room this morning

My new carpets are wool rather than synthetic and a downside of this is that they shed

I'm reliably informed that this is a temporary issue that will resolve itself once all the loose fibres work their way out but for the timing being they're producing just a TREMENDOUS amount of fluff

My vacuum cleaner is cordless & it's not got a very high fluff capacity. Keeps filling up much faster than I'm used to

The way I generally notice this is that it cuts out mid vacuum. Usually this is fixed by emptying out it's tank

Today however it continued cutting out even after the tank was empty. Figured there must be more fluff in there somewhere

Go on a fascinating journey through the workings of the vacuum cleaner. Discover removable parts I had no idea even existed. See bits of it that have never been viewed by human eyes before.

Eventually determine that there are 2 points where the fluff has got so compacted that it's not getting sucked up

One of these is right down in the bottom section and w some finagling manage to push it out w the handle of my longest spoon

However other blockage seems to be in the Long Pipe. Have to use my phone torch to confirm that it's there bcos it's dark inside the Long Pipe.

My longest spoon isn't long enough to reach it and I don't have any other suitable implements

Only thing I can think to do is put it in the bath and run water down it. Reluctant to do this as if I get it wet I'll need to dry it out fully before using it again

Continue searching for a suitable implement. Continue to not have anything

Bite the bullet and take it into the bathroom

At first nothing is coming out. Begin to worry that this isn't gonna work

But then!! After about 15-20 seconds the Long Pipe disgorges all it's fluff into the bath

There's a perceptible sensation of pressure releasing??

It's finally clean!!

Put the vacuum cleaner into handheld mode and go suck up the worst of the fluff

Success??

[ddollfface]

oh my god. i loved your lovesick!sailor. just a thought, could reader's child have given his mother's escape plan? i mean hes such a sweet sweet child but what if he's finally tired of the neglect?:( dad loves him so much, sailor dad tells him that mother loves him too but poor baby can't help but start to lose hope.

maybe a sharp sense of feeling made him suggest the idea that, 'i think mom is going somewhere' to his dad?

he doesn't want to but- he needs love from his mother too:(

what abt sailor just trying to trap reader with yet ANOTHER baby, just so happens to be a girl this time, one who looks exactly like her. but baby girl wants to stay on land and refuses to aid her mother anyhow.

JUST A THOUGHT. I MAY HAVE INDULGED WAY TOO DEEP INTO THIS😞🙏

YES! You got exactly what I was putting down!!!

That's what I was trying to insinuate with that little line, but I was trying to be sneaky with it -- I'm just happy that someone caught onto it!

I like to imagine that your baby boy was slowly climbing the stairs, looking over his shoulders every few seconds, just to see if you'd follow after him. He wants his mama to tuck him in, to lull him to sleep with soft humming, instead of the crashing of waves and heavy thumping of thunder.

His tiny feet patted against the splintered stairs, old and creaky wood making the slightest noise under his weight. His stuffy held close to his chest, his nose stuffed into the soft material, inhaling your scent that clung onto the toy seal. Sniffling as he walked through the cold halls. The walls a light tan, cracks creeping along every corner as dirt and old salt filled all the crevices. No matter how much his Pa cleaned, there was always the looming scent of sea salt and the earthy grains of sand throughout the Lighthouse.

But that's expected, especially since this Lighthouse has been around for decades. If anything, it's surprising it's still standing. The wooden floorboards covered by a burgundy carpet, one that's long and stretches far down the hallway, and only ends at the foot of the ladder, which leads up to the top. The carpet has golden borders, and little tuffs of wool frame the carpet at the ends. Depictions of the sea string along the floor. Naked women with the bodies of seals lounging on the rocks have always caught the little boy's eyes, seeing as he's never seen such a creature before.

He hopes they are, they seem so beautiful. He would love to meet a woman who had the body of a seal, he's sure they'd be lovely to talk to. The little boy would continue down the hall, letting his eyes linger on the depictions of sea life, wondering what the waves would feel like, or how the sand would move under his feet. If only his Pa would let him go to the ocean; what was he afraid of?

His small feet quicken their steps, creating a small thump against the floor, but it diminished by the soft carpet. His mind wandered to the ocean, longing for what it was like. He wants to feel the sand through his fingers, to swim with the little fishies, or to jump over waves. His Pa always talks about the ocean, about his voyages across the seven seas, and how he stopped all that for his Mama.

But... his mama didn't talk about the ocean often. Though she did sit on the window seal, staring off into the distance. Sometimes she'd even let him sit with her! Oh, how he loved to sit with his Mama, laying between her legs as she detangled his long curls. He loved his Mama so, so much...

"God dammit! Where the hell is she?!"

The door at the end of the hall slammed open, revealing his Pa. The boy's eyes widened, surprised as he'd never seen his Pa act so sporadically. He held the stuffy closer to his chest, keeping eye contact with his father as he rapidly approached him, his Pa's hands grasping his shoulders.

"Did you see her, baby? Where's Mama?" His Pa's eyes were wide, filled with panic and fear, causing the boy to become worried as well. Should he have stopped his Mama? Cried for her to stay with him and come up the stairs? Was his Mama okay? Why was Pa so worried?

The boy licked his lips, looking off to the side. Though he wanted his Pa to make sure Mama was okay, he had a gut feeling that something wasn't right. His Mama wouldn't leave him, right?

He gulped, his gaze flickering from the ground to his stuffy seal, tightening his grasp around the toy. Sniffling, he shook his head, peering up at his Pa through his blonde lashes.

"Nuh-uh, Pa... I didn't see her, I was just getting some water..." He mumbled, lying through his teeth. Something in his gut churned, something wasn't right, and he knew it. His Mama wasn't one to act irrationally, and she'd never do something that wasn't in his best interest, right?

For some reason, the boy thought that the ocean had something to do with this. He could almost hear the waves crashing against the rocks, a soft melody that lulled him to come closer. His eyes perked at the sound. his nostrils flared. Suddenly, it felt as if the ocean was right in front of him. He could almost feel the wind blowing through his hair and the sand beneath his feet.

He felt distant as his Pa ruffled his hair, ushering him to bed, before running down the stairs. His body felt different as if something had changed. Something was wrong, and he could feel it in his soul, heart, and mind.

Throughout his whole life, he's longed for the ocean, always calling out to it from afar, but it seems that the ocean has heard his pleas.

Maybe his Mama heard it too?

.

.

.

But yeah, that's kinda of a small drabble of what I imagine to happen. I've always been interested in mythologies around the world. Selkies specifically have always caught my eye, so I just wanted to write a small story about the myth.

From my various readings, I've seen a couple of stories about how the children of a selkie, specifically if their father's a human, will usually have some type of aquatic features (EX: webbed fingers, slit pupils, or being born with a pelt of some kind).

There's not a lot of literature focusing on the children of selkies, but there's a lot of speculation that the children are born with a pelt (like their mother). Some think that the pelt comes as a type of afterbirth, or they're born as a seal and shed their pelt (possibly the reverse as well). But I like to think that they earn their pelt from greeting the ocean or something.

I don't know where I read this, but I heard that if they have a daughter, then she's going to be a selkie. But if the baby is a boy, then he'll just be a regular human with a love for the ocean. I literally have no clue where I heard this, but I saw it somewhere (I cannot find it anywhere, SOS).

So I think it's an interesting idea that reader and LoveSick!Sailor had a little boy who longed for the ocean and a daughter who despises the ocean, though she's a selkie or something. It's kinda like their roles are reversed, which is an interesting thought.

[heartfullofleeches]

why can’t we have monster sheriff reader and horny ass town mayor and bandits

(Werewolf sheriff? Werewolf sheriff.)

A picture frame crashes to the abyss as you tumble into the nightstand. Those god damn idiots. Robbing someone blind on today of all days. The rage visible in the venom dripping from your teeth only upped their ante. None the wiser to your curse, the little demons damn near fainted when a growl slipped from your throat as you chased them about, catching the bastards in record time so you could return home before it was too late.

Your spine curves against the floorboards as you fall onto your side. You barely made it back before the transformation began. Your fangs assault your gums in trial to force out your human canines; the smell of the blood flowing from the vacant holes sending you into a furor. Course hair sprouts over your entire body, stemming from the deep claw marks on your bicep. The scar flares with a white hot pain in similar burn to when you first received it, the fruit bearer of your blight.

You drag your body across the floor as your limbs extend; fighting to reach the basement before the haze clouding your mind traps your brain in its fog. Vision spotty, the soft moonlight on your back doesn't register until you're facing it fully as you writhe in pain. Your talons rip the wood to shreds as your conciousness slips; heartbeat hammering through your maw. The last thing you hear before everything fades is a door handle rolling across the floor.

-

"You moron! Now they'll know we're here if they're home."

"Sorry! I'm still excited from earlier. Coulda swarn they were tryin to take my head off with that swing."

Shaking off the fuzzy shutter the memory brings, the lockpicker joins the rest of the group in piling into your home. The bandits were worried about you after your public display. While you losing your shit was a welcome surpise, they feared you had a bad week and wanted to cheer you up in the only way they knew how. Stealing things and dumping them off in your shack.

As they place their goods in various directions, a shout comes from the bedroom.

"Hey, guys- come quick!"

Rushing inside your room, the bandits stumble across the scene of a crime that looks like a tornado blew in armed to the teeth in blades. The nightstand was knocked over and blinds torn from the rack. Claw marks splintered the floors, walls, and even the ceiling. The moonlight centered on the bloodstains in the carpet; four teeth embedded in the wool.

The leader kneels and picks up a tooth. "What the hell happened here?"

"Is the sheriff okay?..."

"Look outside, I saw something move!"

A large shadow slinks away from view. Reflecting the natural light, the pin on its tattered clothes could only be one thing. The sheriff's badge.

"What was that?"

"Whatever it was, it has something to do with the sheriff. Follow it."

Fueled by anger and fear, the bandits barrel out the backdoor and after the creature. It's long gone by the time they tumble outside, but footprints and broken leaves lead them directly in its wake. Their adrenaline makes the chase as close to a match as possible for a beast of such calibre; broad shoulders easily the size of at least two of the bandits' torsos.

The pursuit comes to a halt as the group approaches the old farmer's gate. Fool spent a fortune on silver wiring after the lawsuit he lawsuit. As it stands still, the bandits get a good look at the creature. Fur as black as midnight, jaws and dentures that could snap some clean in two, familiar eyes. Looking closely at the beast, it becomes clear that the torn clothes on them aren't from them ripping someone to shreads, but from someone growing to large to wear them. A sheriff hat sits tucked bewteen its ears.

"S...sheriff?

The wolf's ear twitches in recognition. You huff in warning.

All at once things become clear to the group. All at once - that fear they each felt blends with something else. Those claws. That build. You could annihilate whoever you pleased. And that was one of the hottest things imaginable.

"Holy shit."

The human part of your brain wonders if now would be the best time to use the silver bullet tied around your neck as they approach. The weight of nearly a dozen humans jumping on you is about the same as a fly in your hair, but to avoid any casualties you allow them their fun. You have enough control for that, you think- till hands start wondering where they shouldn't.

[360infotechreview]