#objectified plush

[talking-objects]

what if a citrus plushie was reversable so it could be his hominid form and change into his bestial form, i think that would be interesting but also hella difficult to make (it would also probably make his shape weird

anyways vote wagyu or sharps cause theyre cool :)

[jamtartsz]

made a PK plushie !!

gay

[petsemataries]

pushpin stimboard for @circuitcarp ☆

every time i make a yellow stimboard i get so sad there's no yellow tumblr text... HOWEVER your stimboard is here i have delivered!!!

🐝 🌻 / 💉 / ☀️ 🐱 / 💛 / 🚧 🛎️ / 🔬 / ✨ 🍯

[razorrrrrrrr]

razor plush.. wait for me... shipping is not far......

[star-stimz]

Do a citrus (objectified) stimboard

CITRUS STIMBOARD

1--2--3--4--5--6--7--8

[redcomet-stims]

Would it be pawsible for me to request a stimboard of the spore version of Mushroom from the webcomic Objectified, and if needed, with a theme of light pink, cutesy, and/or fluffy things?

It's this thing, it only appears like 2 times within book one so far. The end of episode 35 and the start of 42, specifically. There's a bit of gore in both of those, though, so just warning you in case you look at them.

Of course it would be ^w^ Here you go!

🎀🩷🍄 Spore ver. of Mushroom (Objectified) stimboard with themes of light pink and fluffy/cutesy things for @woopersuper :3

Thank you for your request ^w^

I decided to look at the chapters/episodes this character appears in (so far) to get a little bit of context for her- and I just have to say, I'm not usually the biggest fan of object show-related content, but the excerpts of this comic I read got me intrigued into the story, so I might read the full thing! And the artstyle is SO ADORABLE, even though the story is kinda dark....and I love it. :3

Also, pink is probably, like, my 2nd favorite color, so I love how this looks and loved making it ^_^

Anyway, I hope this suits her and I hope you like it ^^

Sources:

x | x | x

x | x | x

x | x | x

[lionzandstarzz]

I made a plushie of Dynamite from Objectified! It's kinda amateur, but I am still proud of it! I brought it to school to show my friends and they loved it! I wanna make more

[dogclownmuppetthing]

No one dictates my level of transness but me so this isn't a 'I don't feel trans enough' post particularly but I kinda wish I knew of more ppl like me when it came to experiencing dysphoria

I was assigned a girl I'm happy being seen as a girl even if I know full well that doesn't fully describe me . But yet . I still feel wrong in the body I was in and wish I had the 'opposite gender' parts . Like . I feel like my body misinterpreted some instructions in some direction I feel like there's smth missing th

[hooverthehoover]

A mushroom plush would be so peak ngl, I am definitely NOT biased towards mushroom what so ever, surely not!!

"A true competition for you, Dear Spectators. Which contestant will win?" - Pop Vote now:

[sanjisblackasswife]

Sylus loves his chubby girlfriend.

Sylus never seen her weight as a problem, he knew she was a larger woman, but it never seemed important to him nor did he care.

Sylus love his chubby girlfriend and he always pinches and BITES your chubby cheeks.

“Your teeth are sharp as hell, boy move!”

You bicker at him, but it only gives him a reason to laugh and do it again when you aren’t aware.

When you come over the first thing he wants to do is shower with you and nap on your tummy or thighs, “Are you able to even breathe, sir…”

“Don’t ask me such trivial questions.” Grumbling into your skin before taking a small nip at you, you almost protest and squeeze him between your thigh, but he licked over the wound winking up at you before falling back asleep.

You were everything he needed and more. He couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around your plush tummy, nearly suffocating you.

Sylus loves you and you body, he always swears up and down he doesn’t see the point of liking little cute plushy things, but you actually became his life size plush toy. (He never objectified you though)

Sylus and his strength always was challenged by your doubts and he had no problem proving you wrong everytime.

“Me? Can’t pick you up, oh sweetie you’re so cute….but insulting.”

And due to that here you were being thrown over his shoulder like you weighed less than a pillow.

And being folded as if you were a rubber band.

“Sy—-! Sylus I —-“ You words were broken into moans when the harsh thrust of his pelvis smacking against you ass as he held you up, “…believe you! I’m sorry!”

Sylus would never blame his pretty girl for anything, in his eyes you can do no wrong, but if he were to accuse you for anything it’s how addictive you are to him.

He picks you up with ease to fuck you from behind as he stands, making you look in the mirror to every jiggle and jump your body does as a response to his dick slamming back inside you.

“Look at me…”

Sylus has you sit on his lap facing him, still naked and connected, you wiggle in his grasp, but you can’t leave , you’re not sure if you even want to. His embrace held you firmly, but his warmth was comforting. He held your chin, his sweaty thumb rub against your hot cheek. “Repeat after me …I am beautiful.”

You look down for a moment, but he smushes your cheeks and raises you head to look him in his soft red eyes, you notice his pupils dilating and your lip quivers.

“I am beautiful.”

His lip curls before kissing you gently, it was passionate, but soft, as if he were kissing you as a thank you, “I’m worth loving.”

“I’m…worth loving.”

He kisses you again and then your cheek, moving his lips to your ear, “And I’m all Sylus’ and Sylus is all mine.”

“I’m all Sylus’ and Sylus is all mine.”

When he kisses you this time was was hungrier, crying into his mouth his own name when his fingers dancing in your clit before swiping it back and fourth, leaving more of a mess in between your thick warm thighs his libido was out of this world, but it’s not like you mind it. You always managed to match his energy.

You just can’t be insecure around Sylus he won’t allow you to.

He wants you to see what he sees in you.

[lalaluna20]

Her dolly 🤍🤍

paige bueckers x hyperfeminine reader tw: reader has like coquette, dolly, shoujo style and interests so if you’re not into that just click off thx!! as a girl who love the hyperfeminine style i wish there were more fics and headcannons with them. so i just decided to make it myself.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ gf paige who loves your style so much. she thinks you just look so adorable and elegant, she just loves it.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ gf paige who 100% buys your entire wardrobe.

while out shopping, you pull out your wallet. “girl” paige states with an ‘are you serious’ side eye “put that away” she says playfully shaking her head. as she taps her card against the reader. “acting like i would make her pay,” she jokes with the cashier. walking out of the store, she takes your hands in hers. holding all the heavy bags as you hold the small, dainty, aesthetic ones.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ gf paige whenever she has formal events she always takes you. you’re always dressed in the cutest jewelry and hair accessories. and nothing less than the best made laces, silk and stain fabrics. and the shoes, omg don’t get me started. having the cutest shoe collection, with cute platforms, converses and heels.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ gf paige although you guys have completely opposite styles. paige loves matching with you, whether that be matching colors, wearing one of your many lace/satin ribbons bowed in her hair or jean belt loop. or she follows the recent trends and wears one of your favorite plush keychains on her belt loop, always on the givers side (i don’t make the rules!)

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ gf paige when paige first makes it to Dallas, she asks dijonai if there’s any “girly fashion” stores so she could take you there. and i assure you, girly took notes. when you first made it to dallas she took you on a huge shopping spree. since for one, you didn’t hav your closet besides 10 days of clothing. and two, you both didn’t know if you would move in or not.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ gf paige who allows you to use her hair for when you’re trying hairstyles. since she doesn’t want you to hurt yourself or your pretty hair in the process.

possessive/protective paige

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ gf paige who always has a jacket with her so if you get cold you can wear it. totally not because it’s a way to show you’re hers, totally.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ gf paige who loves your style but is also super over protective whenever you guys go to parties, bars, clubs, etc. she just wants to make sure you’re safe and unharmed.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ gf paige who gets outrageously possessive whenever someone calls you “doll” or “dolly” she can’t explain it. but she just hates it when someone who isn’t her calls you that.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ gf paige who loves having you on her lap. just something about having your skirt sprawled out on her lap, it gets to her.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ gf paige since she is a public figure she never makes a scene. but she does have possessive touches and the meanest glare.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ gf paige if anyone objectifies you or makes you uncomfortable, they will have hell to pay. whether that be paige’s friends, teammates or fans, hell will be paid.

that’s all the head cannons i have for now.

i hope you enjoy- Love Luna

taglist: @ashortyluvsports, @itsssports, @salemsuccss, @d1paigebueckersglazer, @laurenmcucm, @pbno5

[allfearstofallto]

Initiate

Male (Pure) Sydney x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

TW: 18+ MDNI, dub-con, exhibitionism, chastity cage, oral (f. receiving)

An initiate who hasn't been seen in the temple in weeks, Sydney wonders what happened to you. Your visits to the church lessened and lessened, until one day you just stopped showing up. Your presence wasn't forgotten quickly, not just by him, but by all other members of the church. Whispers would flow through the walls, whispers of impurity, of falling into lust.

At school you were the pinnacle of kindness and popularity. Loved by all, and sweet even to those who aren't to you. He finds it hard to believe what the other initiates say. Yet you still never visited the temple.

Sydney knows it's wrong to follow you, he asked the goddess for forgiveness, but curiosity gets the better of him. What would keep someone formally so committed to the church away from it? And what it was, was a strange building. Only a few streets away from the shop his father had purchased, he watched you enter that unmarked place, the filthy metal grey door closing behind you. It was in an awful part of town, and sketchy as well. After hours went by, his worry for you grew.

Grasping at his cross, Sydney followed you inside. He was met with an awful scent, similar to the communion wine, but stronger, loud pounding music, and worst of all, a plethora of people, none of them looking as if they had good intentions. In the middle of the room was a stage, and on the stage was you. In a state of undress, you were only covering your modesty with a pair of underwear. So thin it could barely be called fabric, more like strings on your groin, not leaving much to the imagination.

He flushed beneath his thick glasses, wanting to say something, but also finding himself entranced with the crowd of people. Your dancing was mesmerizing, your body…Sydney gulped and gripped his holy pendant tighter. Your body was heavenly, even as sweat soaked between every crevice of it. Your plush thighs gripping the pole in front of you, your heel clad feet making you twirl, showing off all your assets.

The voice in his head that's telling him to leave is drowned out by the feeling in his shorts. For the first time in his life, his chastity cage holding his cock is uncomfortable, it's too tight, it's painful as his hardening length presses against the confines. He tries to leave, but he can't. Not when you're on the floor of the stage dancing, money cushioning the hard wood as more wads of cash are thrown at you.

The people around the stage are like ravenous animals, hands clawing for just a touch of your skin. Their lips spew such venomous words of what they want to do to you, objectifying your body in ways he's never heard before. Some are even…fondling themselves. It's a sight that makes him gasp in shock, turning his head away before forcing himself to look back. Sure enough it's true, as you dance lewdly across the floor, they're touching themselves. It's disgusting. But he doesn't feel himself growing softer in his pants.

You sit with your legs open, already towards the crowd with a mischievous smile. Your finger dips inside your thong, hooking around the fabric. Slowly, tantalizing, you pull it down your body, down your thighs, down your shins, and last your heels. You hold the thong up with your legs still spread, your pussy dripping as you toss it out into the crowd, where they practically tackle each other to take it.

Up on that stage where you sit naked, body bare for everyone to see, money being tossed at you left and right, you finally lock eyes with him. It's be hard not to notice him, clearly out of place in a grimy area such as this, and still wearing his neat school uniform. A look of shock forms on your face when you see him there, shock and shame, but it's gone before any of your patrons can notice. You're back to being a temptress, an erotic dancer of the night, you curl your finger at him, beckoning him closer. Like his body has no mind of his own, he steps to you.

You ease yourself closer to the edge of the stage, the height of it meaning he's face to face with your dripping core between your legs. He's never been so close to something like this before, not outside the church. It's glistening beneath the flashing lights and only getting wetter as his hazel eyes look upon it. The smell is intoxicating, sweet like honey, he wonders if your nectar tastes the same.

“C’mon, lick it,” your voice so sultry it's like a song, you gesture for him to come even closer, until he can feel the what of your cunt against his face, “Give them a show.”

He looks around at the room of peopy, all eyes on him. They're hungry. They're ravenous. They're waiting patiently. With shaking hands he reaches up to spread your folds, begging the goddess for forgiveness once again. His hesitant tongue slithers from his mouth and he traces a reluctant lick all the way from your hole to your slit. The taste is…delectable.

Sydney pulls away from a second, thinking about what he'd just done, but when he looks up and meets your eyes, your cheeks flushed as you pant, he can't find it in himself to care. He dives back into your cunt, lapping away at your folds messily. His tongue finds it's way inside you, his hand reaching up to rub at your clit. If you're putting on a performance, it's a good one, moaning and squirming against his ministrations.

He can hear the way the crowd cheers, hear their filthy words and disgusting comments. He can hear it all, but if sounds like nothing to him. Nothing matters to him. Not when you're tangling your fingers in his hair and dripping down his chin, coating his face in that delectable, honeyed wetness. His glasses grow foggy, but it doesn't matter. His fingers dig into your thighs as he sucks at your clit, making your hips buck off of the stage.

“Ahh…yes…yes Sydney, just like that,” you moan for him, body trembling beneath his touch.

You cum for him beautifully, a sense of pride filling him as you yank your body away from his touch to spasm on the stage. Your twitching cunt dripping down on all the bills below you. The crowds burst into cheers as Sydney’s mind loses it's cloudiness, as realization hits him. You pick up your clothes to leave the stage, but he's already rushing out the door before you can even dress. Out the door and down the street, he pants while wiping his mouth, trying to collect himself and think of what he did.

He'll have to stay on his knees for hours to pray for salvation and hope for forgiveness, it's only fair that he does. His chest heaving he looks down at his shorts, they're damp to the touch. He steps in an alleyway to the side to check on himself, opening his pants he sees his caged cock, covered and smeared in a white fluid.

[webbluvrsugar]

frat parties with Patrick Zweig.

— SUGAR’S HALLOWEEN CELEBRATIONS —

cw: Patrick is kinda gross in this, no use of y/n.

He’ll be undressing you with his own eyes all the way from the other side of the room, and he’ll be shameless about it, he’ll bluntly bite his lip and stare at your cleavage — or your ass — whenever you pass by him, sometimes, he’ll even try to take a peek of your panties, specially if you bend down.

You think it’s gross, you convince yourself that you’d never be into a man like that who objectifies you so much. But really, after he’s had a couple drinks and you’re just lightly tipsy, he’ll make his way to you, handing his red cup to his blonde boy who stands next to him and he’ll start making some sort of nonsense conversation just to get you going.

And it works, because five minutes in and he’s already all up in your face, teasing you and telling you how you just look so perfect in that in that slutty piece of fabric you call a dress, it’s too easy, he tells you;

“Gimme a few minutes in that bathroom and I’ll just make you feel s’good.” Pleading in your ear, the hand that was holding your waist moving to cup the plush of your ass.

And even if you swore that you would never be into him, you contradict yourself by letting him drag you into that stupid bathroom, by letting him sloppily kiss you and mess up your lipstick as he lifts you onto the sink.

Your hand is on the mirror, head tilted back to hit the glass as he slams into you, he’s so close, your moans are almost as loud as the music on the outside — and Patrick won’t shut up about it.

“You like thinking of it, huh?” He groans. “How they’re hearing you on the outside.”

His hand goes up your neck and loosely covers your lips, some of his fingers grossly dip in your parted lips, pushing down at your tongue.

“I bet you’d let me nut all up in you.” You clench around him, he chuckles, pulls his hand away to slap your face.

“Yeahhh, I bet you’d like that.”

[hoetachi]

HAPPINESS OVER EVERYTHING (H.O.E) —J. TODD

I ain't gonna hold you baby, I like what I see

you’re completely right

you’re his biggest problem

and you loved and hated it with a passion. even with you snuggled into his lap, plush ass cuddling the fabric of his slacks; yet not a single twitch came from the man. you had to give him his credit; the mere strength of his will to not let lust consume him like a sweet treat was laudable — unlike you on the other hand, you indulged in yours— along with his intoxicating scent; a woodsy vanilla wrapped with a warm spice. you could curse him draconianly on how he was able to leave this senseless imprint on you without any effort.

“you’re starving me of your face today, mista hood” you pouted, playfully poking out your glossed-tinted bottom lip whilst tracing whatever shapes your acrylic nail could muster up over his throat. the prominent vein that trailed his neck always captured your attention when you was this close to him. you wondered if he’ll shudder if you decided to trail your tongue along it; would you be able finally hear his pretty moan?

any attempt to restrain your intrusive thoughts seemed futile when you were in his vicinity, oh but how could you? when those strong arms scooped you up once he felt the motion of you slipping from his lap— his grip on your hips were firm as he adjust you to face him. you might have to change out this outfit sooner than you thought

“y’know i’m a sore to look at” he stated, you noticed how his hands lingered a bit longer on your hips than usual before they moved to grip the rests of his chair

he was cracking and you needed to find what will break him

“how could you say that?! all the girls believe you’re the finest man they ever seen, including me. even with the mask” you purred, moving your finger from his neck to the white strokes of his hair

“sheesh you sure know how to objectify a man” he chuckled. if you had to rank your top five sounds, his chuckle would take second. why second? because you’re saving first for the day he moans your name. of course you heard plenty from the men that entered the lounge from the private sections, and couple from your own clients when you gave them a secluded show but they didn’t turn you on like how the simple groan red hood would give you when you interrupted him “working”. how often you fantasize about that day could make even nightwing blush

he noticed your silence almost too quickly, “what is going on in that mischievous mind of yours?” he tilted his head, simultaneously a strand of your hair fell over your face, before you could tuck it back you felt the cool leather of his glove once again, ghosting past your cheek like a welcoming breeze

just give in” you thought as you watched his gesture with hunger

as if he was a mind reader, he chuckled briefly. “i’m a gentleman believe it or not. i rather take a woman out first to get to know her before i know her body” he quipped, hand returning back to its original position

“well you already know my body” you remarked

“i don’t”

“you do”

“i genuinely don’t”

you rolled your eyes, annoyance building slightly at the back and forth “don’t be modest, i know my clients like to brag to you” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. if you had a dollar for every time you overheard the men that entered the lounge gossiping like school girls about a strip tease you did for them, you wouldn’t need hood’s money.

yeah, it used to bother you but you knew you had to suck it up because you chose to do those private shows; you just didn’t like when people act like they didn’t know as if they were embarrassed for you. honestly, you were though—at first— but over time, you came to the conclusion that you gotta do what you gotta do to eat like the next person. truly, that’s how you got somewhat comfortable and confident with the men there

he leaned up, lightning striking through your body once his hands are back at your hips and on the small of your back— gripping the flesh delectably with authority. “i don’t like to be associated with men who kiss and tell. so don’t group me with them, y/n” he asserted, his tone stern; wanting you to know his respect for you was not just bound privately between you and him, but aloud in public.

he would never give the chance to those lowlifes to discuss you in his presence like you’re just a piece of meat. if his mother taught him anything that had actual meaning, it would be to always respect a woman without looking for praise — he only wished his biological father did so for his mother instead of using her as a pawn for drugs

another reason he can’t allow his secret passion for you to fully surface. fear that the man he hated, he’ll somehow become him sooner or later; that wasnt a gamble he was willing to take. you have a future; an veterinarian with her own successful clinic and out of this limelight of a life.

and he refused to ruin that for you

—

4 stab wounds later, he had made an decision which ultimately led to being at your windowsill at 2:30 in the morning on a slowly awaking friday. his safe house was too far was the excuse he tried to believe as he prepared to interrupt your slumber

uneven knocks against your window shatters the silence that coax your home. it startles you awake, heart racing as you turn towards the sound. it’s coming from your living room? at first you thought it was ceaser— your feline companion— antagonizing whatever it may be perched by your window

throwing on your robe, covering your undergarments tightly, you beelined towards your window. outside, barely illuminated by the streetlamp’s glow, a figure leans against the fire escape. his silhouette is broad, familiar—too familiar you thought. you inched towards the window, sliding it open as a gust of cold air rushes in.

“mista.. hood?” you drawn out with your sleep coated yawn, rubbing your eyes to clear your vision some; which ended up bulging out your skull once you took in his actual condition, he doesn’t answer right away, just exhales shakily, gripping the window frame like it’s the only thing holding him up. his clothes are torn, dark with something thicker than rain. one arm hangs uselessly at his side as the other clung weakly to his right side

“shit hood! you’re bleeding!”

“oh shit i didn’t noticed,” he grunted. you reached for him, your hands gripping his forearm, guiding him inside before his legs can give out. he stumbles, weight pressing into you for just a second and you believes he’s good enough to walk a bit. the pain was starting to feel numbing, which was never a good sign, his mask was making it hard to breathe and currently he really didn’t give a shit if you knew his identity. without another moment of hesitation, he detach the helmet before finally becoming weightless and collapsing over

as his vision started to fade to black, he uttered something that not even his own ears caught at the moment

“damn..you look good.. hope..you don’t mind late-night visitors—”

—

as he stirred back into consciousness he squinted his eyes; he’s in a dimly lit apartment somewhere, a subtle rain tapping against the window. he’s lying on a worn-out couch, his body stiff with pain, bandages wrapped tight around his ribs. the faint scent of antiseptic lingers in the air. he winces as he shifts, barely managing to suppress a groan.

he turned his head and was greeted by an iv, springing more questions on where was he truly being cared for at. soon an almost weightless presence landed on his bandaged abdomen— his eyes landed on a fluffy outline, replacing his confusion with curiosity. the feline yowled as it sat comfortably on his chest as if he was their personal cushion

a gasp from the kitchen claim the wounded vigilante’s attention along with the pitter-patter of footsteps “ceaser get yo ass off of him” a feminine voice he knew all too well shooed the cat, making it yowl in defense before lifting its weight making its grand exit; not before nudging its head against jason’s cheek as it hopped off to wherever in the room

of course i came here” he mentally scolded, upset with himself for allowing feelings to overwhelm his common sense

“my bad for being in your spot” he muttered hoarse, smirking despite feeling like he was hit by car

“usually i accept flowers when a man come to my door.. erm window i shall say” you sat on the armrest opposite from him, searching for any signs of pain from your work on him

“didn’t get a chance to grab some. i was in a.. throne-y situation myself” he said joked with a chuckle following after, but turned into a pained groan, “i think it’s wise to save the jokes for later..” you advised with a pitiful smile

“noted.” he sighed

“so this is mr red hood… in all his glory” the dim glow of your apartment cast soft shadows over his face, highlighting the sharp edges of his jaw, the faint stubble lining it, the small scars that littered his features—some old, some newer. his dark hair was messier than usual, the white strands falling into his heavy-lidded eyes as he laid back on your couch, exhaustion weighing on him.

he shifted under your gaze, lips pressing into a tight line. his fingers twitched against his stomach like he was resisting the urge to pull the pillow cushioning his head and hiding behind it like some frightened kid

“wasn’t what you expected?”

“I knew you had to be handsome under there,” you mused. “didn’t expect you to be this gorgeous, though.” you stared unabashedly at his face, the way it always seemed to be contorted into a harsh scowl compared to the peacefulness that lived undisturbed hours ago fascinated you; how could this pretty face bark orders and strike fear into the men around him?

his breath hitched, but he rolled his eyes like he wasn’t affected. “you flirt with me even when i’ve got the helmet on. how’s this any different?”

you smirked, leaning in slightly. “because now I can actually see you.”

your eyes shifted to the sudden rises and falls of each breath his bandaged chest took in. your eyes toured lower, down past his scarred stomach to his teasing happy trail, and jason, incessantly so attentive, notices this, and readjusts his hips slightly, feeling the room to begin to be warm under your gaze.

“how long have I’ve been out?” he asked, snapping you out of undressing him any more

“3 hours. give or take” you replied simply

you moved towards him; even when you’re not trying, you’re seducing him with your movements. you helped him sit up slightly, heavy body now at angle, his arm slung over your couch as his left leg dangled lazily off of it; the other arm rested on the arm rest for the iv’s sake. he was comfortable and gave you enough space for you to take a seat next to him.

you snaked your hand under his chin, raising the glass of water you had for him to his lips.

he shouldn’t be here. shouldn’t want this. but every time your near, every time you speak his name like it isn’t something stained with blood, he feels himself slipping deeper into something he swore he’d never let himself feel again

you’re always boasting about him and his looks but look at you…

he loved how you did your makeup at the club, but you now in the early hours of the morning; bare face with moisturized full lips and the emerald silk robe that clung loosely against your body, giving him a antagonizing peek at the shell of your black bra. the way you look at him, it’s like you see right through him— right through the walls he built around his heart; they feel like they’re crumbling down even more

you raised a glass of cold water to his lips, urging him to drink, which he does. “you lost a lot of blood y’know, made me make the difficult decision of operating on my lovely couch” you said as you paced your hand to his gulps, trying your best to not accidentally water board him. his eyes picked up on the gauze tucked in the crevice of your elbow. he knitted his brows, gripping your wrist quickly, halting any more of your movements

his emerald eyes looking into yours. this feeling he’s been hiding was definitely not allowing him to keep it in the shadows no more

“did you give me blood?” he asked, stare soft as your furry companion

“yeah, lucky we’re the same blood type and recently i’ve been getting better at stitching since a couple sheeps at the pasture near my school suffered some nasty injuries from a pack of coyotes a couple weeks back” you answered, placing the glass right next to the ruby helmet.

“you’re a lucky man, mista hood”

“jason” he corrected, believing you deserve to know the real name of the man who barged in on your slumber and bleed around your apartment

“you’ve seen my face, you’ve patched me up you might as well know my actual name”

there goes that mischievous smirk he’d grown accustomed to. “jason? hmm… i like the sound of that.. jason” you perched up on the couch. you began to crawl over to him like a lioness to her prey

“now should i call you mista hood or mista j?” your voice is low as one hand was beside his head and the other caressed up and down the length of his torso. he was already in the ‘fuck it’ mentality and your usual teasing wasn’t helping anything for either of you

“i think harley already got dibs on the second one” he teased back

you leaned forward, hovering over his ear “but i make it sound sexier” you whispered

“you do” he agreed aloud without realizing it, his throat going dry at your closeness. this line of his was starting to be fuckin’ nonexistent in your proximity

“it takes you bleeding out on my favorite couch to admit i’m sexy? you’re real interesting, mista j” you stayed in your current spot, curious about his composure

he took a deep breath, inhaling your sweet smell which was a terrible decision. “please, just jason outside of the lounge and i promise to replace it before you know it” his jaw clenched

you didn’t budge one bit out of his face. if he wanted you to move, all he had to say was ‘y/n, you’re toeing the line’

yet, he didn’t.

he laid there, staring you back at you half lidded— you thought your eyes was playing tricks when his eyes darted to your lips for a second

his ass got heart’ you thought

“you need to stop spoiling me” you demanded

“why shouldn’t i?” he replied, eyes clinging on to every hint of movement from you

“don’t deserve it” you deflected

“you do”

“i never realized how defiant you are, jason”

“because you’re too busy teasing me, sweetheart” sweetheart? oh, he’s letting loose with his tongue and that excited you even more

“i’m just trying to find what makes you…” you trailed, eyes searching his features for something

“make me what? beg to let go of my self control?”

you caught the twitch in his lips, somewhere between a smirk and a snarl. his patience was wearing thin.

good.

jason’s breath was warm against your mouth, but he still wouldn’t close the distance. his hands twitched again, like he was holding himself back from either grabbing you or pushing you away—maybe both.

your fingers trailed from his ribs up to his jaw, tilting his face just slightly. he let you, but his muscles tensed beneath your touch, like he was waiting for something. you hummed, nails lightly scraping his stubbled chin. “you know, for all that big bad wolf energy, you sure are hesitant”

his jaw flexed under your touch. his lips parted, and for a second, you swore he was about to break—

but jason never made things easy.

instead, he chuckled. low. rough. dark.

“you’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.”

you smirked, tilting your head. “am i?”

jason exhaled sharply through his nose, his lips ghosting over yours, but still—not touching. his hands finally moved, but not where you expected. Instead of pulling you closer, they slid down—gripping the couch, digging into the cushions like he needed to anchor himself.

his control was admirable, really.

too bad you already made your decision in ruining it.

your other hand slipped down, barely grazing his stomach, acrylics teasing the line of muscle there. he tensed hard, his whole body going rigid beneath you. “fuck,” he muttered, head tipping back against the couch. his eyes squeezed shut for a second, and you swore you saw his resolve crack.

your lips barely brushed his jaw. “somethin’ wrong, mista j?”

his eyes snapped open—dark, wild, and burning with something dangerous.

you didn’t have time to gloat.

because in one swift motion, jason’s hands finally moved—grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your back. the sound of the iv hitting the floor was distant, along with ceaser’s scattered footsteps

the world spun, and suddenly, he was hovering over you. his grip on your hips was tight, almost punishing. his knee slotted between yours, pinning you down. jason smirked, but there was something hungry in his expression now. his face was so close, you could see the way his pupils had blown wide.

“you wanna play, sweetheart?” his voice was husky. his fingers flexed against your hips— not too hard to bruise but enough strength to remind you he could ruin you

“let’s play”

your heart slammed against your ribs, but you refused to back down. instead, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. this was everything you ever wanted and you’d be damned to waste this opportunity

your lips curled in a smirk. “about time.”

jason’s eyes darkened.

and then—

he kissed you.

his lips crashed against yours, all heat and hunger, his restraint finally snapping. his hands slid up your sides, rough palms grazing your skin through the thin fabric of your robe. you arched into him, nails raking against the back of his neck, tugging him closer—needing him closer. his knee pressed between your thighs, spreading them just enough to let him settle against you, his weight deliciously solid. you could feel the tension coiled in his muscles, the way his body vibrated with pent-up need, and god, it was intoxicating.

jason groaned into your mouth as you rolled your hips against him, your bodies fitting together like a perfect puzzle. his hands gripped your waist, fingers digging in as if anchoring himself—or maybe stopping himself from completely losing control. “you’re dangerous,” he muttered against your lips, his voice thick with something raw and wanting.

you smirked, running your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly. “that’s nothin’ new.”

jason growled in response, nipping at your bottom lip before trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. you gasped as he sucked at your pulse point, leaving a mark—claiming, possessive. his hands wandered, slipping beneath your robe, fingertips teasing the bare skin beneath. he moved painfully slow, like he wanted to memorize the feeling of you under his hands.

your breath hitched as jason’s lips skimmed lower, his hands mapping out every inch of lace and bare skin beneath him. his fingers trailed down your thigh, teasing the edge of your lingerie, his body pressing deliciously into yours.

“jason,” you breathed, your fingers tightening in his hair as his lips found the valley between your breasts, hot and teasing.

he hummed against your skin. “mmm?” his hands kept moving, sliding up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your ribs, dangerously close to where you wanted them

your body ached for more, craved the way he was looking at you, touching you like he needed to memorize you—but something in the back of your mind screamed for reason. your lusted eyes darted to his side, where you had painstakingly stitched him up only hours ago.

the bandages had shifted, and the faintest hint of crimson was bleeding through.

“jasson,” you said again, firmer this time, your hands pressing lightly against his chest.

he barely even paused.

his lips found your throat again, dragging his teeth against your pulse, making your breath stutter. his hands slid lower, gripping your hips, his body completely ignoring the fact that he was still rookiely patched up

you groaned—not from pleasure this time, but from frustration.

“your stitches,” you gasped, finally pushing at his shoulders. “you’re going to rip them open, you idiot.”

jason exhaled sharply, dropping his head to your shoulder. “it’s fine,” he muttered, trying to nuzzle back into you.

you glared, tilting his chin up to force him to look at you. his greed-green pupils were blown wide, his face slightly flushed, his body burning with heat—but so was yours. and still, you weren’t about to let him do something irresponsible just because he couldn’t keep his hands off you.

“no, it’s not.” you softened slightly, brushing your fingers through his hair, trying to soothe him instead of tempting him further. “jason, please. just rest tonight.”

his jaw ticked. his grip on your hips didn’t loosen, but he didn’t argue right away. he just looked at you—studying your face, your lips, the way your chest was still rising and falling way too fast from everything he’d done.

you knew he didn’t want to stop.

and honestly? neither did you.

hoewever, he was hurt. and no matter how much you yearned this—yearned him—you weren’t going to let him get worse because of it.

you cupped his cheek, guiding his forehead to rest against yours. “please,” you whispered, voice softer now.

jason sighed, finally closing his eyes. his fingers twitched against your waist before he exhaled again, this time with a grumble.

“you’re a problem y/n,” he muttered

you smiled. “and you like it.”

jason cracked an eye open, smirking just slightly. “maybe.”

you huffed a laugh, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before pulling the robe tighter around yourself. he groaned dramatically, dropping onto his back beside you with an arm flung over his eyes.

you got from underneath him, towering over him. “i’ll make it up to you,” you promised, voice low and teasing whilst retying your robe

jason peeked at you from under his arm, lips twitching. “oh, you better.”

[fishcake-8]

AHHHHH, I CANT DECIDE WHO I CHOOSE FOR OBJECTIFIED PLUSH!!!

I know either razor or mushroom would get the most votes

But i love Comet and hope someday they gets a merch of her own.

Hehe silly