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chastiefoul · 9 months ago

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jjk men coming home and finding you crying

ft. gojo, geto, nanami, toji fluff and comfort

gojo satoru

you wiped your eyes quickly as you heard the door opened. you took a deep breath, making sure your voice didn’t come as shaky as you said, “welcome home, toru.” with a big grin and the usual paper bag filled with sweets on his right hand he planted a kiss on your head. “i’m home baby.”

you were just about to let out a sigh of relief when satoru suddenly knelt in front of you who’s on the couch, blindfold off as his blue eyes stared as if seeing right through you. “what’s wrong?” he said softly, his knuckles brushing over your cheek with such a careful gesture. “what do you mean?” you tilted your head, cringing inside at the bad feign. “you can’t fool my six eyes, baby. also what kind of boyfriend i’ll be if i can’t even notice when my girl is sad?”

you tried to form a sentence to say as an excuse but the kisses he peppered across your face wasn’t really helping. you chuckled as you whine softly, “toruu.” the white-haired man cupped your face, a gorgeous smile on his face. “my favorite sound, baby,” he said, kissing your lips. “tell me? pleaseeee.” you laughed once more at his emphasis at the last word. “it’s really nothing, toru.”

“i love listening to nothing. we even have some sweets here as snacks,” he said, opening the paper bag excitedly. “i think you just want an excuse to eat it at 8 pm,” you raised an eyebrow, as he grinned. “nonsense, baby. now c’mere, let me hold you while you tell your story.” he put you between his legs, your back resting on his broad chest comfortably. you sighed out of wonderment, thinking how you could be so lucky, being this loved by the man.

“here, pick whatever. this one is my favorite,” he rummaged through the bag that’s on your lap. you looked at him with fondness as his face leaned in beside you to see better. “yeah? you’ll give me your favorite?”

“there’s nothing in the world that you can’t get, baby.” he kissed the side of your face. “now start from the very beginning.”

geto suguru

“if you thought you were doing a great job hiding those tears i have some news for you sweet girl,” geto’s voice was gentle on your ear as he wipe the wet residue underneath your eyes with the inner sleeve of his robe. “i wasn’t really hiding it,” you frowned, somehow not liking the fact that he noticed your little moment of weakness. “yeah? so you were just rubbing your eyes all rough like that for no reason?” he gave you a little smile.

yeah, it was a battle you had lost from start.

he put his arms around you, rubbing your back in a soothing pattern. “what’s wrong baby, everything okay?” you melted right into his touch, resting your head on his chest right on the calming beating of his heart. “yeah, it’s not really a big deal,” you mumbled, your low spirit was really affecting him more than he would ever let you know. his hand kept moving as he once again kissed the side of your head, a low chuckled escaped him. “you’re cute when you think you have a choice on telling me what had upset you.”

you laughed softly at his playfulness, knowing full well to you’ll end up telling your boyfriend everything. “you’re right. but can i tell you later?” you asked, wanting just this peaceful moment to last just a little longer as you held him tight.

“’course baby, got all the time in the world for you.”

nanami kento

nanami already knew that something was off when the house felt a little quiet as he arrived. and then he found you hunched over as you stood behind the kitchen counter. “honey?” you wiped your eyes with what you thought was the speed of sound but it was clear to both of you that you had been crying. “hi ken, how was work?” you replied with a small voice, a smile nanami didn’t particularly like plastered on your face; only because it seemed forced.

“oh no, we’re not breezing past it. come here my love.” and his embrace enveloped you like a dream, all warm and perfect. he stroke your hair ever so softly as he whispered sweet nothings. when you calmed down a little he sneaked a hand under your jaw, rubbing his thumb on your cheek gently, a gesture with amount of love you could only guess. “what’s wrong, hm?” he questioned you, his eyes shone with adoration; there’s only you in that moment.

“i’m okay, ken. more importantly aren’t you tired from work?” there’s a deep crease between the blond’s man eyebrows he heard you say this, as if that was the most offensive thing he had ever heard from you. “’more importantly?’ there could be nothing that’s more important than you, dear,” he said, knowing that concern was from a good place, like he was worrying over you, of course you would fuss over him who just came home from work.

“still…” you hesitated, but he kissed it out of you quickly. “want me to prepare you a bath, love? you know i can get the perfect temperature for you,” he whispered, coaxing you. and he was right, even sometimes he would get it right more often than you. before you could even mumble out another excuse he continued. “and while you do that i’ll prepare dinner, okay? i’m sure there’re still some ingredients left to make that nice meal you like.”

“no, i couldn’t possibly let you do all the work ken-“

“love, i’m here. you can relax, okay? you always do so much for me, let me do this for you,” he reassured you, cupping your face as he trailed your cheeks with soft kisses. you’re still not convinced, as he smiled over your great concern. “do this for me, please?” he tried once more and there’s no way you could refuse that. you nodded, feeling another wave of tears coming out of gratitude for your boyfriend., “thank you ken, i love you so much.”

“i love you too. and when you’re ready to talk, i’m here okay? always.”

toji fushiguro

he lifted you up, your leg instinctively wrapped themselves around his waist as he grabbed both of your thighs to support you. you tighten the hold of your arms around his neck, resting your head on your shoulder, nuzzling closer to his neck; not wanting him to see your post-crying face.

he sat you on the kitchen counter, putting both of his hands on the hard surface, on either side of your body practically refraining you to run away. “what’s wrong pretty girl?” he asked you who’s currently staring at the fingers on your lap as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. he kissed your shoulder blade, intentionally lingering a little long to hopefully calm your nerves. “nothing, i guess,” you answered nonchalantly, like detaching yourself. “you’re shit at lying babe, you know that right? look at the frown that you’re wearing right now, it’s almost touching the floor,” he said as he kissed your neck next. “mean,” you meant to frown, and you realized you were already doing that for the past hour. fine, maybe he had a point, so what?

“nah, what’s mean is when my girl won’t even tell me what made her upset,” he said, tilting his head confidently, his big hand on your waist as he rubbed your side. the look on his face was enough to make you relent. “fine… you’ll force it out of me sooner or later anyways,” you mumbled as he smiled, knowing that you needed a little push is all to sound your worries. “atta girl.”

“tell me all ‘bout it yeah? don’t leave out a single detail. then maybe if you’re up for it, i can show you that i got many ways to cheer you up,”

#jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #suguru fluff #suguru x reader #geto x reader #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #jjk toji #toji x you #toji x reader #toji fluff

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uwmspeccoll · 7 months ago

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Decorative Sunday

This Sunday we present a selection of original paste papers by New York paste-paper artist Claire Maziarczyk from Maziarcyck Paste Papers by English book-arts author and fine-press printer Claire Bolton, published in Oxford, England at Claire and David Bolton's Alembic Press in 1991. The book, printed in a limited edition of 175 copies by Claire Bolton and quarter bound in cloth with Maziarczyk's paste paper-covered boards (first image), includes nineteen samples of Claire Maziarczyk's paste papers, with descriptions of how they are made. The text also includes a history of paste papers and notes on the range of patterns used.

After varied experiences as an elementary school art teacher, a teaching technician at Cooper Union, and a bookbinder and administrator at the New York Center for Book Arts, Maziarczyk began making paste papers in 1982 to create decorative sheets for book covers. She soon began to make production paste papers to be sold to bookbinders and art supply stores. This led to a commission from Red Ozier Press to produce some custom designs for their book covers. In 1985, she began to use paints made by Golden Artist Colors that had a wider range of colors with more intense shades and a range of metallics that didn't oxidize. She kept adding more and more patterns to her repertoire and by the time this book was printed she had 48 papers of different patterns.

Our copy of this book is another donation from the estate of our late friend Dennis Bayuzick.

View more posts of paste papers.

View other books from the estate of Dennis Bayuzick.

View more Decorative Sunday posts.

#Decorative Sunday #decorative plates #Claire Maziarczyk #Maziarcyck Paste Papers #Claire Bolton #Alembic Press #paste papers #paste paper #paste paper patterns #sample books #specimen books #paper sample books #paper specimens #paste paper specimens #Dennis Bayuzick

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kiwisoap · 5 months ago

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How to Make Your Own Binder that Fits Well and Looks Good

A while back I was in need of some new binders and thought hey, I bet I can make one way cheaper than buying it from somewhere (especially cus some of the ones I’ve bought in the past didn’t really fit right). Except when I started looking for a binder patterns online, I was very surprised that I really… couldn’t find many that looked very nice lol. Most of them had really wrinkled necklines, or didn't bind well, or just overall looked weird. A lot of the patterns also required a serger, which I don't have.

So I just said fuck it and made my own pattern! And it ended up being relatively easy! And the binders fit REALLY WELL and are comfortable to wear, even for long periods. The neckline doesn't show under shirts with loose collars, and the bottom hem doesn't gap or stick out. Here's me wearing one:

(plus I was able to make myself 5 of them for a total of like ~$50.)

So I figured I could throw together a guide to help out anyone else who wanted to make their own binder but was dissatisfied with the patterns available!

Disclaimer: This tutorial is going to assume a baseline level of sewing experience, and also will require access to a sewing machine. It is not a complicated pattern, but it will most likely require some tweaking and adjustments after you make the first one. Don’t be afraid to make alterations to make it fit better!

This tutorial is for a gc2b-style half-tank binder. It could be altered to be a full-tank binder, but all instructions will be for the half-tank design.

Materials needed:

Stretchy fabric, probably listed as 'athletic fabric' (I use this kind from Joann’s. Most athletic stretch fabrics should work, look for around 80% nylon/20% spandex blends)

Stiff fabric (I use this shirting cotton because I like how lightweight it is. If you want something a little stiffer with more structure, you can use a cotton or cotton/poly blend twill like this. gc2b binders use twill for theirs.)

Lightweight fusible interfacing (I use this kind) (get FUSIBLE not sew-in)

Fusible webbing like Pellon Wonder-Web (this is technically optional but it WILL make your life easier when you’re sewing - just make sure to get the kind with the paper backing!!!)

“But kiwisoap thats 4 whole kinds of materials, surely I don’t need that many!” Ok sure, you can probably get by without the fusible web and interfacing, but consider: they are both dirt cheap (im talking like $1-2/yard), they will make it much easier to sew the final product, and will give you an overall better-looking result. This tutorial is written with the assumption that you’ll use them.

"How much fabric will I need?" Measure the circumference of your chest below your armpits. Add 6 inches just to be safe. This is the yardage of stretch fabric you’ll need, and should give you enough material to make at least 3 binders without much excess left over. You will need around half as much stiff fabric.

Other supplies:

Big Paper (for drawing the pattern)

Flexible measuring tape

Sewing machine

Iron

Pins

Step 1: Measuring

You will need 4 main measurements for this pattern.

A) Measure the circumference of your chest just below your armpits, then divide the number in half. This will be the widest part of the pattern.

B) Measure from the top of your shoulder down to where you want the binder to end. For most folks, this will usually be around the natural waist (narrowest part of the torso), about 3-6 inches above the belly button. This will be the overall height of the pattern.

C) Measure the distance from below your armpit to where you want the binder to end. This will determine where the arm hole starts.

D) Measure the circumference of your waist where you want the binder to end, then divide the number in half.

So for example, after dividing A and D in half, my measurements are 17", 15", 7", and 14.5".

Subtract one inch from measurement A - This will help provide some compression. You might need to take it in even further depending on how it fits, but one inch is a safe starting point. I take mine in around 1.5 inches.

Subtract half an inch from measurement D. This will help prevent the bottom edge of the binder from gapping. Again, you may need to take it in more or less, depending on your own body.

Add 1.5 inches to measurement B and one inch to measurement C. This is to account for the hems and armhole placement.

This makes my final measurements

A = 16"

B = 16.5"

C = 8"

D = 13.5"

From here on out, we are only going to be working with the measurements that we have added/subtracted to, NOT the ones we initially took.

Step 2: Drawing the Pattern

You will need a piece of paper large enough to accommodate the entire pattern. This may involve taping multiple pieces together, or using a piece of newsprint, etc.

I recommend folding the paper in half to ensure that you get a symmetrical pattern. However, this means you will need to divide measurements A and D in half again, or else you’ll end up with a pattern that’s twice as wide as it should be!

Also note: the pattern is drawn with the seam allowance built in! You don’t need to add any seam allowance.

To draw the pattern:

Begin with your folded paper. Measure and mark B and C on the paper, and draw a line extending across the paper. These will be your guidelines.

Measure and mark A and D along the middle and bottom guidelines, respectively. Remember, the paper is folded, so you only use half of the measurement for A and D.

Draw a loose curve connecting the endpoints of A and D. If needed, you can also just draw a straight line between the two.

Mark the opening for the neck hole. Depending on your size, it will measure around 6-8 inches across at the top (remember to divide this in half for the folded paper) and about 5-6.5 inches deep. (mine is 6.5" across and 5.5" deep) Draw a curve to connect the two points. This part will take some tweaking and adjusting to get it to look right lol.

Measure the width of the strap - this should be somewhere between 2.5 - 4 inches wide. They will end up about 1/2” to 3/4” narrower once you sew them. Draw the line at a slight angle, as shown.

Connect the endpoint of the strap to the endpoint of line A with a curve like in the diagram.

This will be the pattern for the front piece.

To make the back piece, trace the front pattern, but make a very shallow curve for the neckline instead of a steep one, as shown:

The last piece is the stiff front panel. This is what provides the flattening effect of the binder. To make the pattern, trace the front pattern again. Trim 3/8” in on the sleeves and neckline, and 3/4” to 1” along the bottom. This gives a flatter hem. Then trim the straps shorter by a few inches. This helps the binder lay flatter along the shoulders.

When you're done, you should have 3 pattern pieces that look approximately like this (stiff panel shown overlaid on the stretch fabric to show how it fits together).

NOTE: If you want more compression or just want to make it a bit sturdier, you can add a second panel of stretch fabric to the back piece. Just use the bottom half of the back pattern (from the widest part down to the bottom hem) to cut out another piece of stretch fabric. Attach it to the back piece with a strip of fusible webbing and a zig-zag stitch along the top.

Step 3: Putting It All Together

Once you’ve made the patterns and cut out the pieces of fabric, you should have something that looks like this:

The next step is adding interfacing and fusible webbing. Use your pattern to cut out 3/8" strips to fit on the top of the straps for both pieces, and to the neckline, sleeves, and bottom hem of the back piece, as shown:

If you want to add it to the bottom hem of the front piece, it will help keep that hem flat when sewing it down later, but it's not essential.

If you choose to also use fusible webbing (WHICH I RECOMMEND), you will apply it to the stiff front panel similarly to how the interfacing was applied, ~3/8” strips along the neckline, sleeves, and top of the straps. Cut out two strips for the neckline and sleeves, because we'll use those later too.

Iron the strips onto the front panel as shown:

Once it's on, just peel off the paper, position it webbing-side down on the stretch fabric, and iron it to fuse the two pieces together so everything stays in place while you sew. THIS MAKES IT WAY EASIER TO SEW.

After the stiff front panel is fused to the stretch fabric, you’ll sew the straps of the front and back pieces together, then join the pieces along the sides. Pin the hell out of it to keep everything in place -this type of material is VERY prone to puckering.

When sewing, USE A ZIGZAG STITCH. A straight stitch will NOT WORK for stretch fabric. I adjust mine to 1.3mm long and 3.5mm wide which has worked well. If your machine doesn’t let you adjust stitch length or width, well. That sucks, I don’t really have any advice.

After you sew the front and back pieces together, you can add more fusible webbing to the front panel to help hold the hem down flat and prevent it from puckering while you sew it. Just add the strip, peel the paper off, then fold the hem over and iron it down. This part isn’t really necessary, but it does make the hems look nicer. If nothing else, I would recommend adding it to the neckline.

After that, you just fold & pin all the hems and sew them up with a zigzag stitch, then go over the raw edge at the top of the stiff panel (where we cut the straps shorter).

And that’s it! You’re done! And now you can make your own binders whenever you want!

And hey! If you used this tutorial and wanna throw me a dollar or two on ko-fi, I wouldn't complain.

#binder tutorial #ftm #transmasc #trans male #trans #tutorial #sewing #fibercraft

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tddyhyck · 3 months ago

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sudden desires [ l.dh ]

pt 2 (can be read as a stand alone)

pairings ⇢ enemies with benefits! haechan x afab!reader

warnings ⇢ 18+, oral (m receiving), feet (kinda), name calling (but in a sexy way), bathroom sex, oppa kink, unprotected sex (pull out), swallowing, multiple orgasms, leg humping??, slapping/pinching, stomach bulge, teeth/brushing teeth, wet & messy, purposeful awkward ending, mirror sex

word count ⇢ 3.3k

playlist ⇢ she_harry styles / valentine_5sos / sudden desire_hayley williams

a/n ⇢ heyyyyyyyy lol

masterlist

your hair is pushed out of your face while you sleepily brush your teeth. the fuzzy headband tight on your head but it’s cute because it matches all of your friends. of course you all had to match for the trip, pajamas, slippers, headbands, even the silly pack of temporary tattoos you all had diligently helped each other with in the kitchen. you had helped yena stick hers on her thigh and karina’s to her lower hip. the boys struggled the most jisung’s ended up mostly smudged on his wrist but still cute.

you watched fondly as jeno softly held his girl's calf as he wrapped the paper around her ankle and carefully patted it. you had bent over the kitchen table while karina worked a cool rag over your lower back to attach it. your doe eyes wide staring up at haechan teasingly. opening your mouth to mimic a moan while you watched his jaw tighten.

you’d told him he couldn’t try anything on this trip. you were with the girls piling on the king bed while the boys were scattered in the loft and living room. your friends were aware of your relationship at least your public hatred of one another. not the fact that you frequently and quite secretly jumped each other's bones.

it had all been an accident, a case of mistaken identity. you still sort of think he planned it but you had pulled his hair enough over it, for now at least. you had told winter to tell soobin to meet you in the basement bathroom and when you got there in the led tiktok shop glow you couldn’t tell that it was haechan who had been waiting on someone else.

you should have known when he was shorter and softer and meaner. the moans in your ear were a dead giveaway, but the dick was blinding you. he pulled out after you chanted soobin’s name and quickly flipped the light switch. you groaned and banged your head against the mirror making him tease you when you winced. you could still feel the heat from his cock against your thigh and you didn’t care for your disdain. you whispered for him to just finish and he didn’t hesitate but you made him turn the lights back off so you didn’t see his disgusting grin.

since then it was random encounters for something quick and playful. that turned into meetups when either of your roommates were out and when they weren’t the back of his car worked well. your distaste had turned into a craving that lingered in the back of your throat and center of your tummy. the hatred you felt mellowed into a soft and fond annoyance.

but you made him swear he wouldn’t try to get in your pants during this trip. three days and two nights shouldn’t be too long for both of you. sadly you felt yourself growing needy, the soft touches and playful slaps were normal but groping your ass was a bit too much. you felt tipsy from all the drinks earlier and you needed to sleep. it was almost 2am and there was a schedule to follow in the morning.

you spat out your toothpaste before glancing around the bathroom again making sure you didn’t miss a step. when you slid open the door your eyes met a cartoon bear pattern, sluggishly you peaked up to find that familiar brown hair.

“what are you doing?” you whisper yelled into his neck. he jumped turning to you with a mischievous grin. you shook your head knowing what he was going to ask.

“wait wait,” he whispered back, putting a hand on your hip to stop you from walking past him. you rolled your eyes. “please.” he almost whimpered, using his other hand to pull your hand down to feel his bulge. you glanced down mouth watering when you saw the deep red top poking from his pants.

“we can’t. you know that.” you tried to stay firm. glancing around to make sure no one saw you but the lights were dim and you saw no phone screens.

“passed out. all of them.” he grinned, grinding his hips against you.

“you’re such a brat.” you signed, rolling your head back. you squeezed his cock in your hand fighting the urge to rip it from him. he moaned in response, hips jerking against you.

“what if you just watch and say stuff you know,” he questions, glancing away biting his lip.

“you want me to sit and watch you jerk off?” you grin teasingly flicking your thumb over his head, swiping at the precum. he nodded dumbly and his already flushed skin got redder.

“you’re such a perv.” you flicked your wrist. “you just want a pretty girl to watch you touch yourself? disgusting.”

“please,” he whined, his head falling into your neck as your grip tightened. his mouth opened against your neck, hot breath huffing before his tongue slid against your skin. you tugged his hair pulling his head away from you and released his cock from your grip.

“i’m only sucking you off.” you whispered before slapping your palm over his member. he groaned softly before pushing you back into the small bathroom sliding the door shut behind him and latching it with a click.

“you’re so annoying.” you whined as you lifted his shirt and stuffing the hem in his mouth. he watched you with wide glazed eyes, the fabric made his mouth dry. “this will keep you quiet right?”

he nodded quickly as you sunk down on your knees pulling his pants along too. his cock hot and hard and angry when you looked up at him. precum slipped out of the head as you leaned in gripping his thighs and lapping softly over him like a kitten.

his head flung back with a muted moan when you flattened your tongue and licked from base to tip. one hand held his thigh and the other fondled his balls as you hollow your cheeks sucking him in like a fresh fountain drink on a hot day. he tasted so good, so familiar. you pressed yourself farther nose brushing against his hair as you looked up wide eyed and over sexualized.

he stared right back at you spit starting to dribble out of his mouth and over the once dry fabric you had stuffed there. bobbing your head you sucked him down his fists clenched with each brush of his tip against your throat. you pulled off with a popped before your head clanged on the sink.

“owwww,” you winced, digging your nails into his thigh.

“fuck are you ok,” he mumbled spitting the shirt from his mouth. you pushed out your lips with a pout as his hands softly pet your hair and face and he held the back of your head attempting to soothe your skull. you wanted to be a whiny baby and have him play sweet with you but you needed him to finish.

“just hurry and fuck my mouth.”

he kept his hand softly on your head and the other moved to grip the sink. his hair fell into his eyes as he stood over you, it felt so dominating but he was being soft. mouth open you guide his length back into the warmth. he moved slowly with a sigh, nudging his cock deeper and dragging it slowly back out.

you snuck a hand between your legs grinding against your palm as he concentrated. he was fighting with himself wanting to use you like a flesh light and worrying about banging your head again. you could feel the wetness seeping through the fabric of your shorts with every slow thrust of his hips.

taking his time, he watched the way your lips stretched around him and spit bubbled at the corners of your mouth. he kept himself from gripping your hair and instead held the sink tighter as he sped up.

“you’re so,” he whimpered, eyes shutting briefly. you hummed around him almost asking him to finish his sentence.

“hot.” he finished stupidly, and it made you flush for some reason. the dumb dreamy look on his face all because of you. soft whines slipped past his lips as he sped up sloppily fucking into your warmth.

you needed more than just a palm and in popped an idea. you tapped his leg three times and he pulled out spit stringing from your mouth. his brows knitted as he watched you lift a knee and straddled his foot. you whined when you settled grinding against him slowly.

“you’re such a freak,” he mumbled. hand still cupping your head he used the other to grip his cock and slip it past your lips again. you moaned around him, clit rubbing on the seam of your shorts just right.

the vibrations made him dizzy. the scene was so filthy, you humping against his leg like a slut and he could feel how wet you were warm slick on his foot.

the thing about you and haechan is you had no expectations of how to act with each other. he was just as depraved as you, anything you wanted he probably did too. you couldn’t just grind against anyone’s leg without asking, but with haechan you knew he’d love it just as much as you.

“you like it?” you moaned in response, tears welling in your eyes. mouth full you bobbed your head and your hips matched your pace dragging the sticky fabric against you.

“humping me like a bitch in heat.” he could feel your cunt gush at his words.

“fuck it,” he whispered pulling you up and turning you around all at once. you felt dizzy as he bent over you grinding his cock against your shorts. as hot as watching you was, he had to have you.

“oppa,” you whispered, you didn’t know if you were begging him to stop or to fuck you. he went with the latter tugging your shorts down over the swell of your ass. you could feel his fingers tracing the fake tattoo before his hand pressed against your lower back. fingers sliding through your slick making you shiver when you looked at him through the mirror but he was already staring back.

dark deep lust stared back at you when he plunged two fingers into your cunt. you bit your lip to keep yourself quiet but your arms go limp on the porcelain.

“i’ll be fast,” he hushed, fingers filling you up with such ease. whimpering you rocked yourself against him wanting more - needing more. you could feel him hard and heavy pressing against your ass with each push of your hips.

“just,” you whined, reaching to pull his wrist and remove his fingers before gripping his cock bringing him where you needed him most. sinking back with a gasp as he filled you up. your fingers danced over your clit swollen and needy. you felt yourself pulse when his low groan hit your ears.

“look at me,” he whispered. before you could move he was grabbing your throat and pulling you against him. the new position made him reach a new depth inside of you. staring at him in the reflection while his cock was buried deep inside.

“so fucking deep.” you choked. you could see his cock pressing against your tummy, the bulge growing and disappearing under your skin. you felt your volume increasing with each thrust. mind going numb but your body on fire. his eyes flitted over you in the mirror watching the way you stared between your legs.

“you like watching me fuck you?” you nodded quickly watching as his cock disappeared into your sloppy cunt. pushing your hand against your stomach to feel the bulge.

“so hot, so full, so good,” you mumble to yourself. the sticky drag of his cock in your walls made your toes curl.

“i’ll film it for you next time so when you’re alone in your room humping your stupid pillow you can watch.” you moaned loudly at the thought.

“shut up,” he whispered into your neck. “you said to be quiet.” his fingers trailed up your neck before filling your mouth. moaning around his digits as you tasted yourself. you pressed your own fingers against your clit circling fast and hard feeling the warmth spreading in your tummy. now all you could hear was his pelvis hitting your ass, and the squelch coming from between your legs.

if he kept it up you’d cum any second and he knew that. his fingers found yours circling your clit with you. fucking into you hard and fast hitting you just right. the head of his cock pressing against your gspot as you came closer and closer.

“gonna cum,” you garbled around his fingers.

“i know,” he smirked. fingers and hips moving faster against you.

“oppa,” you whined, gripping his thigh and biting down on his fingers.

“cum on the cock you love so much,” he groaned against your ear pinching your clit.

“ppa, cum, i’m,” you whimpered. “oppa.” you moaned around his fingers as you came, cunt fluttering around him. gripping his wrist when he didn’t stop circling your oversensitive bud. you shuddered against him overwhelmed by everything, you didn’t even notice the slick dripping from your legs and onto the floor.

“so fucking sexy when you cum,” he licked your neck, placing an open mouth kiss on your skin. his fingers slipped from your mouth with spit strings still connected to your lips. you pouted at him through the reflection. eyes begging him to stop but he kept pounding you.

“what? too sensitive?” he teased slowing his thrusts before pulling out and rubbing his cock over your swollen lips. you nodded watching as it glistened between your folds before he rudely pushed it back in with a groan. hands gripping your hips he brought himself closer. bracing yourself on the sink as his breath sped up you knew he was close. you could feel your stomach tightening again with each drag of his cock.

“can you cum for me just one more time,” he asked. you nodded weakly, biting your lip as his fingers swirled over your clit again. “tell me.”

you rolled your eyes at him through the mirror and he slapped your clit in response making you double over.

“fuck you,” you groaned.

“tell me you want to cum again,” he tugged your hair pulling you back against him.

“i’m sensitive,” you whimper.

“so you don’t want it?” he pulled out more slick dripping from you. you stomped your feet like a child before bending over and spreading your ass for him.

“make me cum again,” your cheeks were red and embarrassed when you begged him. swollen cunt on display he smirked spitting on your already sticky hole before swiftly plunging in for the third maybe fourth time you lost count.

“good girl,” you squeezed around him at the praise. his hand pressed against your lower back tracing over the fake tattoo.

“you should get one for real it’s so hot,” he groaned as his other hand gripped your ass pulling you back to meet his hips. “been watching every time it peaked from your shorts. i know you did it on purpose.”

“you’re just a perv,” you moan. maybe you did do it on purpose.

“like you didn’t lean over the table and put on a show,” he groaned. “wish i could have taken you there. you’d like it, all of our friends watching me slut you out.” moaning at his words as his cock drove you closer. your hand coming to your mouth to keep you quiet.

“fucking whore,” you gasped suddenly spasming on his cock as your second orgasm hit you by surprise.

“cumming when i call you names.” you whimpered into your palm as your pussy fluttered and pulsed around him.

“pull out,” you whispered. he didn’t listen, continuing his speed. tightening around him in sensitivity but he just moaned. his breathing was faster and he was getting closer. “pull out.”

“why,” he sighed, hips slapping against you.

“messy,” you whispered. normally you’d let him fill you with cum and fuck it back into you but you already knew time was running out.

“i’m so close,” he whimpered before he pulled out with a whine slick spilling once more. you turned quickly, getting on your knees as he jerked his cock in your face. he stared down at you one hand holding the base of his cock while the other quickly flicked over the tip.

“cum in my mouth oppa,” you said before opening your mouth wide as he groaned. your lips suctioned to the tip as he came hot spurts hitting your throat and filling your mouth. “fuck” he groaned, hand still milking his cock. you gripped his thighs before pulling away, opening your mouth to show off his load.

“shit,” he whispered, grabbing your chin. watching your tongue curve to try and hold all of the white liquid before you slurped it in your mouth. you gulped swallowing all of him before sticking your clean tongue back out.

“god you’re so hot,” he pushed your hair behind your ear as you leaned back in to clean the last of him. you took him in, nose pressing to his stomach. swirling your tongue to clean him before pulling away with a pop this time his hand was behind your head instead of the sink.

he tugged you up pulling you to his face kissing you, tongue exploring yours. moaning into your mouth as he tasted himself before you pulled away.

“now i have to brush my teeth again.” you pouted up at him. he rolled his eyes but a smile tugged on his lips. his hands reached around you tugging your shorts back up.

“yeah and i have to clean the floor so we’re even.” you looked at him curiously before he pointed to the sticky puddle in front of the sink.

“life is so hard when a beautiful lady sucks your dick,” you countered.

“and i made her cum. twice,” he holds up to fingers with a stupid grin.

“but i’m so sleepy,” you sighed, head falling on his shoulder as he tugged his own pants up.

“poor baby,” he patted your back before turning you around and guiding you to the side of the bath. you watched as he grabbed a clean cloth and wet it. he walked back to you wiping the cool cloth over your face gently cleaning dried fluids from your cheeks. you closed your eyes letting him be sweet. he tossed it on the floor over the puddle you had made.

he turned, grabbing your toothbrush, wetting it under water and squeezing the toothpaste on the bristles before wetting it once more just how you did it. he brought it to you holding your chin with one hand squeezing lightly. “open.” you did as he said before he began brushing over your teeth.

it was so intimate for some reason, the way his hand softly held you in place while he examined your mouth taking care ensuring he wasn’t brushing too hard. his thumb caught any foam that slipped out of your mouth as he continued to brush, not missing a spot.

“you’re so sleepy,” he smiled down at you fingers brushing your cheek. you attempted to nod but his hand held you in place.

“are you going hiking tomorrow?” you tried nodding again but instead held a thumb up. “what time?” you shrugged holding up 5 fingers.

“damn,” he moved your chin to change angles. “it’s so late, you should stay here in the morning.” you shrugged again. “sorry for keeping you up.” you raised an eyebrow at him. “i’m not really but sorta.”

he pulled the toothbrush from your mouth and you stood up following him to the sink. he stood behind you holding your hair as you spit before he rinsed the toothbrush. wiping your mouth while he put your toothbrush away.

“well, uh good night i guess,” he rubbed his neck awkwardly, turning to unlatch the door. you reached for his arm before he could.

“oppa, thank you. good night,” you whispered, brushing your fingers over his arm before letting good. he nodded before slipping out the door.

©️tddyhyck

#haechan x y/n #haechan x you #haechan smut #nct dream drabbles #nct dream smut #nct smut #nct 127 hard hours #nct 127 smut #nct dream hard hours #nct hard hours #haechan hard hours #donghyuck x reader #donghyuck smut #haechan x reader

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aethersea · 1 year ago

Text

Nearly done!

After many youtube videos and a careful glue test on a spare piece of chipboard, I decided to embrace hubris and not bother with a paper backing. The fabric is pretty stiff, I can glue really sparsely and then compensate when gluing down the flaps, it'll be fine.

I had my sister pick out the fabric since the book is a gift for her, and she chose this lovely outer space pattern. I'd already gotten it wet and laid it out flat to dry (in cold water, not hot, but like...it's a book, it's not going to shrink in the wash later), so now I spent a good 20 minutes agonizing about how best to position the book on the pattern, very carefully so as not to crease the fabric. Once that was settled I laid the boards on it and outlined the corners, then cut it to within a centimeter of that on all sides. I didn't think I'd be able to cut the fabric with the craft knife, but it was surprisingly doable! I only had to trim away a tiny bit of irregularity along a couple of the sides.

Then it was time to apply glue to the first cover board. This was harrowing. I had to keep it sparse enough that it wouldn't seep through the fabric, go fast enough that it wouldn't dry, and cover the board thoroughly, especially along the edges. Then I very, very gently laid the board in its spot on the fabric, careful not to press too hard lest it push the glue through to the front, and very, very gently brushed my fingers over the fabric to make sure there were no air bubbles.

I left it face-up, so the weight of the book block wouldn't press the glue through the fabric, and went to scroll tumblr for half an hour just to be really really sure it was dry.

Then it was time for the backbone. Same process, slightly less harrowing bc it was smaller so I wasn't quite as worried about it drying, and I could leave it face-down to dry. Which it did while I wrote this reblog up to this point.

Now that the backbone and one of the cover boards were in place, I had to glue the book block to the backbone. At least for this part I could use plenty of glue without worrying, which was kind of a nice breather ngl. I slathered glue onto the not-actually-mull (and the edges of the signatures that stick out beyond it, though that turned out to be irrelevant as the mull protrudes enough that there's a bit of a gap between the signatures and the backbone), slathered some more onto the backbone just to be thorough, and stuck them together.

It was trickier than I expected! You may notice there's a gap between the backbone and the cover board. The gap is the width of two boards pressed together (four, in my case, since I'm doubling them all up). There's an equivalent gap between the edge of the cover boards and the edge of the book block – you can see in all of these photos that the paper extends out past the edge of the board. It's those gaps that form the hinges of the covers, without which the book wouldn't open. Because of these gaps, the fabric has enough give that I couldn't rely on its pull to align the book block, and I had to center it manually. And then I had to just sit there holding it, pressing the backbone against the book block, because there's not really any convenient way to press this bit. It's just unwieldy.

It also doesn't need to press for that long (or at least I hope not lmao) since the fabric will hold it in place once I'm done. So after a few minutes I moved on to pasting up the last cover board.

And then struggling.

You're supposed to be able to just sorta tip the book block over and the board will fall naturally into place. It was not doing that for me. I ended up having to line up the outer corners and smooth the fabric down from there, panicking a little bc I had to press it harder than I'd pressed either of the other two boards – what if the glue bled through?! I'm glad I was doing this for the back cover, where it's a little less important.

I think I managed to avoid any bleed-through, though. It looked pretty good once I was done! I let it sit while I wrote up the next part of this post and tried really hard not to poke it constantly.

When I opened the book and laid it flat, I realized the boards were bunching together over those gaps I mentioned. I don't think they're supposed to do that 😬 It looks fine when the book is shut, and it doesn't interfere with opening and closing it, which is good as I don't think it can be fixed at this point without cutting things up. I have no idea what caused this. I glued it wrong somehow, who knows?

But on we go regardless. Step one is to cut the corners so we can have mitred corners. They're cut to within 2 board lengths of the corner (so in my case four, since I'm doubling up the boards).

Step two is the liberal application of glue onto the fabric all along the foot of the book. No more of this cautious sparseness! We go hog wild now! We're making up for all that sparseness with really, really well-glued flaps!

My handy dandy manual says to start by tucking the binding in at the spine, then work out from there. I see the logic in this: if you work in toward the spine from both ends, you run the risk of an unsightly crease in the middle, but if you start at the center and work outward, everything will line up nicely. I expect this is particularly relevant when you're binding with paper rather than fabric, since creases show so strongly on paper.

You do this exactly as you'd expect, by turning the fabric in and tucking it in between the book block and the backbone board. It turns out it comes in really handy that only the mull is pasted to the backbone, not the signatures, since that leaves a little gap between the backbone and the signatures where you can tuck the fabric in. It was easier than I thought it would be – easier still because among my sister's gifts was a bone folder, but I think I could have used anything thin enough to get in there. (I don't actually have anything on hand that thin except maybe some knitting needles, but I'd have cut some of my spare chipboard down to size and it'd work.)

You may notice there are no progress shots of the gluing steps anywhere in this whole post. There's a reason for that. Glue dries fast. But here's a post-hoc recreation of this step, just because I'm not sure I'd have been able to visualize it myself if the manual wasn't so exhaustively illustrated.

One of the youtube tutorials linked above was using the bone folder to fold the flaps over too, to make sure you got an even, crisp edge, so I did that too and it worked out pretty well!

It did get kind of wibbly right between the boards and the spine, though, which I feel might be down to that weirdness at the gaps. The bone folder was too big to get in there and tuck the fabric into place where it needed to glue to itself, so I used the other end of the paintbrush I've been using for the glue. Through happy coincidence it has a really convenient shape, A+ paintbrush design there! Here's another post-hoc recreation.

That tutorial also used the bone folder to press down the fabric past each corner, as below, and glue that into place.

This is for the mitreing. The next step is to fold the corner of the flap down flat against the cover board:

Then you paste up the fore edge of the fabric and lay it into place, and the corners will line up really nicely.

Well they'll line up nice enough, anyway, and then you can adjust it, because fabric is pretty forgiving. I feel like paper would have been harder to do this with, since it'd show the creases of previous folds. You'd have to just get the fold right from the start with paper.

At this point I left it to dry while I wrote up the rest of this post.

And look how good it looks!!

The mitred corners have a really big bump, but I am assured this is normal and expected. And that they should be on the fore edges, not the head and foot, which makes perfect sense, since it's the foot (or the head) that will be sliding along bookshelves and such, so you want even weight distribution there.

The hinges look kinda bleh, which I'm glad I noticed, since it reminded me that my friend Gabe said that he used knitting needles to form the hinges when he was doing this just the other week. That's one thing I don't lack, so I've tucked a pair of 2.75 mm needles into the hinges and put it in the makeshift press overnight!

Tomorrow: end papers. And then it'll be done!!

I've always wanted to learn bookbinding, ever since I was a wee little nerd, but there are a lot of things I've always wanted to learn, and this one has both a daunting upfront materials cost and a daunting upfront research cost. however, my sister is a jewel among siblings and gave me for christmas last year a handy dandy bookbinding manual, a block of good paper, and a little bag of tools.

but I still didn't have a suitable workspace, nor any of the many important tools and materials that she didn't include in her gift. so I just read the manual and pined. until maybe a month ago I got fed up with pining, flattened a cardboard box for a cutting mat, and went to town.

and I'm real proud of myself, so here's me rambling, plus photos!

I went to the thrift store and got glue + some fabric to bind the cover, went to Michaels for a paintbrush (and later went back for a metal ruler lmao it's amazing how useful it is to have a straightedge for cutting the paper), and...could not find material for the cover boards. so I went home and pined some more. but the urges were too strong, so after a couple hours of moping I got a stack of printer paper at the grocery store (I could not bring myself to use the good paper for my first, inevitably weak attempts, I just couldn't do it) and started making a little booklet. which was a great idea, it turned out, since it makes for good practice with cutting the paper, measuring things, punching holes in the signatures, etc.

I have a big box of greeting cards from Michaels, which I used for the covers. it didn't feel like I was making a Real Book, so I got some colored paper from the stationery store and used that for end papers.

so fancy~

galvanized by this success, I ordered a stack of chipboard online to use for cover boards; and once I was confident that I could cut paper without making it look too stupid (getting that straightedge ruler sure helped lol), I made signatures out of the good paper, left them under some heavy books overnight since I don't have a book press, and then punched holes in them! (huzzah for this nice video on getting the holes right)

my sister's gift included good linen thread. it's unwaxed, but after some poking around on r/bookbinding it looks like that just means I'll have to be more careful to avoid tangles and keep good tension. I am fine with this. I can be extra attentive. (I considered just running it over a beeswax candle, but one commenter said if your wax has paraffin in it, it could melt in a hot car, ruining the spine. I can't guarantee my candle is 100% beeswax, I didn't make it, so maybe we just move on.)

I don't have good linen fabric to use for the tapes, but the important part there is that the fabric be thin, sturdy, and not stretchy. the probably-cotton I got from the thrift store fits the bill, so it'll do!

this is a french link stitch, which I got from this exceedingly good tutorial. apparently it's strong enough on its own that for a book of this size, I don't actually need tapes, but I'd already cut the things so eh here we are. and tapes plus french link will make it a stronger binding still (according to a friendly redditor on r/bookbinding), so we carry on.

specifically we carry on to the gluing step. now as I mentioned, I do not have a book press, and you....kinda need one for this step. you need to hold the book block in place with the signatures facing upwards, pressed together hard enough that the glue won't run down between them and stick the pages together (though you do want the glue to get between them just a little, just for like a 16th of an inch). you at least need some clamps and a couple boards to sandwich the book block with.

but you know what? I'm not a professional, this is my first ever book, if it's a little bit off it'll be fine. so we grab all the heaviest books off the bookshelf and improvise.

it's fine! I'm sure it's fine! and just in case it's not, I've tucked a bit of cardboard underneath to catch any glue that drips down so it won't land on the floor. see? I'm prepared! I'm acing this.

and actually, it really was fine. I used clear elmer's glue, applied with a flat paintbrush from the art supplies aisle at Michael's, and frankly I liked the way the flat paintbrush let me slip glue in between the signatures. I did poke around on a couple bookbinding sites to see what kind of glue I should use, and the gist is that although there are better options than this, elmer's glue is perfectly serviceable, and the main downside is it's not archival grade. but I don't need my first bookbinding attempts to last 200 years, that's fine.

the next step is to add the mull. mull is a specific type of fabric – extremely loose-weave linen – and the idea is to paste it down over the spine to essentially hold the tapes and signatures all in place in relation to each other.

but I don't have mull! so I'm using more of the thrift store probably-cotton, because it's thin enough and not really stretchy at all. I'm sure this will be fine too. I painted a layer of glue onto the spine, then left it to dry a bit while I measured and cut the fabric, then painted a generous stripe of glue down the center, where it'll affix onto the spine. then I added a bit more glue to the spine, just to be sure, and pressed the mull into place, rubbing it thoroughly to make sure it's firmly affixed to every signature, with no creases in the fabric or air bubbles beneath it.

honestly I might have overdone it on the glue. I've never done this before, I don't know! I think it's okay, though – I tried not to ever let it become a thick layer, just a slight coating, since the danger of too much glue is that it might crack once dry and weaken the spine.

and now we leave it in the press overnight to dry, and pick up the next step in the morning!

#finx rambles #finx makes stuff #bookbinding #I'm over the moon about this thing I really am #we went to michaels today to get end papers and got a nice golden yellow that matches the stars on this pattern #stopped by a greek place for lunch too #I'd forgotten how much I like greek food #great flavor profile just all around #also man I'm so disappointed by the pronunciation of mitre #I always said it like 'meter' in my head #which I far prefer on aesthetic grounds #but ALAS it is not so :((((#I could keep mispronouncing it anyway. mine is better so there #but no. no I can sense that I will not #sometimes I will do that but this isn't going to be one of those times #anyway. I'm dead tired. it's past my bedtime #good night!#I love my little book so much #thanks for coming along on this journey with me

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snowvies · 1 year ago

Text

Mr. Badgley

Penn Badgley x Fem!Reader

summary: you can't stop thinking about your married piano teacher, Mr. Badgley. and one day he slides under the instrument to show you how much he's been thinking about you too.

wc: 1k

cw: age gap (reader 19, Penn late thirties), cheating, piano teacher x student, pussy eating, fingering, female masturbation

Sundays are your favorite days, especially ones like this when the clouds hang low with a murky swirl in the sky. You're nineteen, and college is kicking your ass but you promised yourself you wouldn't think about the papers due when you're here, at Mr. Badgley's house.

You found his ad on craigslist, piano lessons..fifty bucks an hour you would've scrolled past it until you saw him, and his family. You felt safer in a random man's house when his wife and newborn baby were in the same room with you. So you started going there, ever since your freshman year.

Your raggedy car rolllsss to stop and you get out to see the lonely house, picked apart to be perfect, not a single thing out of place... except yourself.

His wife answers the door a few minutes after knocking, the cold biting your bare legs as you run in for warmth, completely missing her scowl at your lack of kicking the mat with your dirty boots.

Mr. Badgley offers you a warm smile, hair combed perfectly, sweater ironed and pants straight like every weekend. His eyes always look a little empty when you come. His wife jingles her keys around her finger as she readjusts the baby on her hip

"I'm going out, be done when I'm home" the same line. Every week. You smile her way but she doesn't pay mind to it, leaving you and her husband to play. you turn to Mr. Badgley but he's already walking to the connecting living room of the tiny house, sitting on the worn bench as he slides the fallboard up.

You sit next to him as he wears an excited smile, when he's like this, playing with you, it doesn't seem orchestrated by his wife. Every move he makes is analyzed by her, except this. The only reason he's allowed to do this is because they needed the extra money.

"Let's start where we left off last week, yes?" he asked and you nodded, you inhaled the mixture of musk and old books that surrounded the pianist as he began the background cords. his eyes are on you, they shine as his spine relaxes into the music and you begin your part. fingers dancing over keys as you try to remember the pattern

Your eyes squeezed shut once you messed the keys up. He smiles softly and lets a laugh out of his nose at your reaction

"Like this," his larger palm rests on top of yours as he guides your fingers, you nod and try again.

Soon enough an hour passes and you both rise from the bench and you dig into your purse for the fifty bucks you crumpled into it this morning, but, warm hands slide on top of your shoulder and the older man shakes his head.

"No need" he grins and tries to send you off but you insist, grabbing the money but he pushes you out the door.

"I will not have you pay for something that I enjoy just as much, Y/n, have a lovely week" The door softly shuts and you're left stunned.

You roll around your dorm bed, restless as the man's words keep ringing in your head. Why didn't he let you pay?

Maybe you're being dramatic. But it isn't like the Badgleys are set either.

You shut your eyes in a huff, suffocating yourself in the pillow under you as you replay the keys in an attempt to lull you asleep

But it isn't just the keys you're thinking about...

It's how his hand guided yours, it's how he looked at you when it was your part to play, it's his scent, it's his being. It's driving you mad.

You arch your back slowly, fingers sliding down your body until you get to your aching core. slick-filled fingers rubbing yourself at the thought of your teacher's hands touching you, grabbing you, loving you.

You moan into the pillow, legs shaking as you cream around your fingers, the thought of him drives you wild.

So just how will you act the next time you see him?

Before you know it, it's Sunday and you're back at the Badgleys, with his wife announcing her departure and the formal greetings of you and your teacher, you're back at that bench, side by side.

He starts the cords, and you follow trying to calm your shaking legs as you think about what fueled you that night. You couldn't even look him in the eyes this session.

His hand softly squeezes your bare thigh and you look back at the man.

"You're completely off" he informs you and you don't think your face could get redder.

"I-I'm so sorry...let's try again" you panic but his thumb rubs loving circles on your flesh.

"You usually think the world ends when you mess up, but you kept playing this time, you're mind is somewhere else Ms. Y/n."

"Sorry Mr. Badgley" you murmur

"Talk to me, get it off your chest so we can get back to playing" he smiles and you nod slowly

"...Why didn't you let me pay last time?" you ask, he stops for a moment as the hand on your thigh now rests on his face as he thinks for a moment.

"I just feel like, something so pleasurable shouldn't be bought," he says above a whisper and you feel your entire face glow, and he must have noticed with how he laughs.

"Not those pleasures, Ms. Y/n" he smiles and you don't think you've ever been so embarrassed. But when his laughter stops, his eyes swirl softly into something darker, in that moment you feel exposed to every thought as he eyes you.

He stands, hands finding your shoulders

"Keep playing"

You take a shaky breath as your thighs begin to shake once more, fingers finding the keys as you start the song

"Good," he whispers, his scents overwhelming you now as you feel almost dizzy while playing, you barely notice how he slips under the piano.

"Mr. Badgley, what are you doing?" you gasp as his dark brown eyes gaze up at you

"Keep.playing" he says sternly, and with a swallow, you keep going

He kisses your knees and you feel yourself sticking to your panties as he spreads them apart.

He has a wife. He has a kid. What are you doing?

"You're doing great" he huffs, kissing your thighs, you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment as his fingers dance up to your panties.

He pulls them down slowly, your wetness sticking to the fabric before they are lost in his pockets

Your bare pussy is in front of your teacher's face as he rubs up and down your thighs taking a shaky breath in

You slam the keys as his tongue licks up your pussy, he moans into you before forcing you to scoot closer into his face, his hands wrapping around your ass as he slurps and moans at your cunt.

"Mr.- fuck" you cry, hands climbing to try and stop your moans as your hips buck up to hump his face

"You taste so so good" he groans, making out with your pussy as he sucks at your clit just to tongue fuck your hole

Hot tears flow down your face as he stares up at you, watching you come undone for him.

You shake around him, orgasm approaching closer with every lick, he sucks on your slit before adding a long finger to your hole. You throw your head back as he fingers you, flicking his tongue relentlessly as his finger curls inside you.

You feel him whine and moan against your pussy, and when you look down you see him gripping and grabbing at his hard-on as he eats you out. You cry as that sends you over and you cum around his finger

You're panting as he curls his fingers a few more times before shoving it into his mouth and licking you clean, you're shaking and wide-eyed as hair sticks to your face and he crawls out from under the piano

Right, weren't you two supposed to be playing right now? Isn't his wife about to be home and he's sucking his fingers because they still taste like you?

He helps you off the bench and you stare into the stained cushion but he turns your chin to him before kissing you deeply, tasting yourself on his tongue before breaking it off with a simple

"My wife is on her way...see you in our next session Ms. Y/n"

And you can't wait for next Sunday.

an: lmk how obvious it is idk anything about pianos. This is based on a dream I had last night 😵‍💫🖤 I hope you liked it <333

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sincerelybubbles · 4 months ago

Note

the team noticing how comfortable shy bau reader has gotten with hotch and they all find it very sweet

Slipping Into the Light warnings: brief mentions of cannon typical violence paring: hotch x shy!bau!reader

||||

The bullpen is its usual brand of chaos—agents moving between desks, papers shuffling, the hum of conversation filling the air. It’s comfortable, routine. Nothing out of the ordinary.

At least, until she walks in.

The team barely notices at first, too caught up in their morning tasks, but then—then, something odd happens.

She walks past Hotch’s office, and without a second of hesitation, she reaches out and knocks twice against the open doorframe—light, quick, easy.

Hotch glances up from his paperwork, and instead of his usual curt nod or unreadable gaze, something soft crosses his face. It’s barely there, a flicker of warmth before he schools his expression. But it’s real.

And then—then—she says, “Morning, Hotch,” like it’s nothing. Like it’s normal.

Not Good morning, sir. Not a quiet, hesitant nod in passing. No, just Morning, Hotch, said with the kind of familiarity that suggests it isn’t the first time.

He returns it with a quiet, “Morning,” like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

And that’s when the team starts paying attention.

Morgan’s head tilts up first, brows knitting together. Emily, mid-sip of her coffee, pauses with the cup just short of her lips. Reid frowns at the exchange like it’s a puzzle he hasn’t figured out yet. Rossi just smirks.

The door to Hotch’s office closes a moment later, and she moves toward her desk, entirely unaware of the looks being exchanged across the room.

Emily recovers first, setting her coffee down and leaning toward Morgan. “Morning, Hotch?”

Morgan shakes his head, almost in disbelief. “That’s not normal, right? She doesn’t talk to anyone like that. Not even me,” he points out, sounding offended. “And I’ve been workin’ on breaking her out of that shell for years.”

Reid blinks, clearly running through past conversations in his head. “She’s never greeted me like that before, either.”

“Or me,” Emily agrees, before throwing a glance toward Rossi. “You?”

Rossi just takes a slow sip of his coffee, unreadable.

“Something’s up,” Morgan mutters.

Emily hums in agreement. “Something.”

||||

It happens again the next day.

And the next.

Each time, it’s something small—something easily overlooked if you aren’t paying attention. But they are paying attention. Because once profilers start noticing something, it’s impossible to stop. It becomes a game between Emily and Morgan, noticing the small ways you've warmed up to Hotch.

Easier smiles, passing him in the plane when you would usually wait for a larger gap, conversations continued when he walks into the room rather than screeching to a halt like before.

It's nothing massive to the untrained eye but, well, they are trained to notice breaks in patterns, to see when things change and how they do.

Like today.

Hotch walks into the bullpen, coffee in hand, heading straight for his office. Nothing unusual there. But as he passes by her desk, she glances up from her file, eyes flicking toward his cup.

“Did you eat?” she asks, casually—too casually.

Hotch slows just a fraction, just enough for the team to catch it. “Not yet.”

She hums, glancing at the time. “Bagel shop’s still open. They have fresh bread until nine.”

“I’ll be fine,” Hotch assures, but he lingers. Just for a second.

She gives him a pointed look before returning to her file. “Mm.”

That’s it. That’s the whole exchange. And yet—

Morgan immediately turns toward Emily. “You seein' this?”

Emily nods, hiding a grin behind her coffee. “Oh, I’m seeing it.”

Reid, who has been diligently pretending not to be part of this entire conspiracy, clears his throat. “I mean, she could just be concerned about his health?”

Morgan gives him a look as Emily snorts. “She’s never told us to eat.”

“She’s never told anyone to eat,” Morgan mutters, shaking his head. “Except Hotch, apparently.”

Spencer frowns slightly, watching as Hotch disappears into his office. Then he looks back at her, catching the way she glances one more time at the closed door before focusing back on her file.

“Okay,” he admits. “That was weird.”

“Thank you,” Emily says, throwing her hands up.

Morgan shakes his head, settling back into his chair. “I’m just saying, that’s not nothing.”

||||

It happens again later that evening, this time in the briefing room.

They’ve wrapped the case, a particularly grueling one, and now it’s the slow process of debriefing, paperwork, and waiting for the jet to be refueled in case they actually need it tomorrow - they've been able to help over the phone today but everyone is certain tomorrow will bring a tragedy the necessitates travel tomorrow or the day after. The team is scattered around the table—some flipping through reports, others making half-hearted attempts at conversation, everyone running on fumes.

She's tucked into the corner of the room, curled over a file, her pen tapping absently against the paper. If she stops moving, she’ll fall asleep. And she doesn’t have the energy to be embarrassed about that.

The door opens, and Hotch steps in. The conversation dulls, but only slightly—it’s always like that when he walks in. Not because they’re afraid of him, but because his presence naturally shifts the atmosphere.

She barely looks up. “Coffee?” she asks, already moving to stand.

Hotch shakes his head. “I got it.”

She pauses, then settles back down, flipping a page. “Okay.”

That’s it. No hesitation, no stammering, no overthinking the fact that she offered in the first place. Just easy.

And that is very interesting.

Morgan narrows his eyes slightly, tilting his head as he watches her. It’s subtle—probably something even she hasn’t noticed—but there’s no way in hell he’s imagining it now.

The old her would’ve never spoken to Hotch without being spoken to first. Would’ve never offered him something so casually, so easily, like it was second nature.

And Hotch—

Hotch, who usually doesn’t acknowledge small gestures like this, doesn’t even bat an eye. Doesn’t make a comment, doesn’t pause, doesn’t do anything other than react without thought.

Which means this isn’t the first time it’s happened.

Emily catches Morgan’s look and raises a brow. You seeing this?

Morgan smirks. Oh, I’m seeing it.

They share a knowing glance, and then—just to test the waters—Emily leans forward, setting her elbows on the table.

“Hey, Hotch,” she says casually. “Since you’re already up, can you grab me one too?”

Hotch glances at her, then at Morgan, who looks far too interested in his answer. He exhales sharply, amused but unamused, and turns toward the door.

“No.”

Morgan barks out a laugh, and Emily grins, triumphant.

And in the corner, she remains blissfully unaware, still flipping through her file, still tapping her pen, still completely oblivious to the way the entire team is slowly piecing this together.

||||

The next moment happens in Rossi’s office.

She hadn’t meant to end up here. It’s late, past the point of pretending she’s being productive, but she told herself she’d finish one more report before heading home. Somewhere along the way, she’d wandered, coffee in hand, and now she’s leaning against Rossi’s doorway, blinking sluggishly at him as he flips through a leather-bound journal.

“Long day?” he asks without looking up.

She nods, then remembers he’s not looking. “Yeah.”

He hums, setting the journal aside. “And yet, you’re still here instead of going home. Or is it that you don’t want to go home?”

“I was going home,” she argues, though they both know she’s lying. “I just… got distracted.”

Rossi leans back, eyeing her with the kind of gaze that makes it impossible to lie. Not that she’s in the habit of lying to him—especially since he’s usually at least five steps ahead of her anyway.

She glances at the clock. 10:42 PM. She exhales through her nose, rolling her lips together.

“You should get some sleep,” he says, but there’s something else in his tone. A lilt. An implication.

She squints at him. “Why do you sound like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you know something.”

Rossi shrugs. “I know a lot of things.”

“Right,” she mutters, narrowing her eyes.

He’s enjoying this. That much is clear. She doesn’t know what he’s enjoying yet, but she’s sure he’ll make her figure it out on her own.

And then—

“Oh.” She blinks. “Wait. No.”

Rossi smirks.

Her stomach flips. “You know?”

He doesn’t answer, just reaches for his glass of scotch, taking a slow, measured sip.

She feels heat creep up her neck, spreading across her cheeks.

He knows.

Which means Hotch told him.

Which means Hotch talked about it.

Which means—

“Relax,” Rossi drawls, interrupting her impending spiral. “It’s not like he gave me a play-by-play. He just mentioned you two had dinner.” He pauses, then grins. “And that it went well.”

She shifts her weight, suddenly too aware of herself. Oh.

It’s not that she thought Hotch would keep it a secret forever, but hearing that he’d told Rossi, that he’d spoken about it in any capacity, makes it feel… real.

More real than the way her heart stuttered when Hotch had smoothed a hand over hers at dinner. More real than the quiet, steady confidence he’d had in their them-ness while she was still fumbling over the weight of it.

Rossi watches her carefully, still amused but softer now. “You okay?”

She nods, pressing her lips together. “Yeah. I just—”

She gestures vaguely, words failing her.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Go home,” he says again, more insistent this time. “And tell Aaron I said you’re welcome.”

She sputters, eyes wide, and Rossi just laughs, already reaching for his journal again.

She doesn’t know if she’s embarrassed or endeared, but as she slips out of his office, warmth tucked into her chest, she thinks maybe it’s a little bit of both.

||||

The moment is small. Blink and you’d miss it.

Hotch is standing by the coffee maker in the break room, pouring himself a cup. She wanders in a moment later, her movements unhurried, her posture looser than usual. The case they’d just wrapped had been rough, but the team was back home, safe, and exhaustion was settling in around all of them like a thick fog.

She steps beside him, reaching for the sugar, only to find his hand already on it.

She blinks up at him.

Hotch smirks, just barely. “You were going to put in two scoops.”

Her eyes narrow. “And?”

He hands her the spoon, ignoring the way the corner of his mouth twitches. “And you always complain that it makes the coffee too sweet.”

She exhales, glaring at him for being right, and scoops one spoonful instead.

“You should get your own coffee if you’re just going to judge mine.”

“I was here first,” he reminds her. "Making my own coffee, not yours."

“I was letting you make mine for me.”

The words are out before she fully registers them, her lips parting slightly at the realization.

Across the room, Morgan and JJ freeze mid-conversation.

Hotch stills, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around the handle of his mug. He watches her, slow and appraising, and then—

He leans in. Not much, but just enough. “You've got me there. Here." Slowly, he places the cup in her hand, a spoonful and a half of sugar poured in, slowly curling her fingers around the mug for her. Pleased at the reaction he so easily brings forth.

And then he walks out, leaving her standing there, fingers curled around her coffee cup, ears burning.

Morgan lets out a low whistle. “Damn.”

JJ, still wide-eyed, elbows him. “Don’t make it a thing.”

“Oh, it’s already a thing,” Morgan mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. “Did you see that? She flirted back.”

JJ presses her lips together, fighting a grin. "Still, not our business." She insists, despite the way warmth curls in her stomach at the thought.

||||

The jet hums beneath them, a steady, soothing vibration. The case had been long and brutal, but it was over, and they were finally on their way home. The team was scattered around the cabin—Morgan and Emily playing cards, JJ half-dozing with her headphones in, and Rossi nursing a glass of something dark.

And her?

She was sitting stiffly in her seat, her arm propped awkwardly against her side, doing a terrible job of pretending she wasn’t in pain.

The gash on her ribs wasn’t deep. She’d already been patched up at the local hospital—stitched, bandaged, and thoroughly instructed to take it easy. But “take it easy” apparently translated to everyone treating her like she was made of glass.

Emily had tried to grab her go-bag for her earlier.

Morgan had asked if she wanted him to get her a drink—when had he ever done that before?

Even Spencer had hovered like a worried sibling, his gaze flicking toward her every few minutes like he was expecting her to keel over.

She could deal with that. What was harder to deal with was the fact that Hotch hadn’t said anything at all.

Not until now.

“You need to rest,” his voice cut through the low hum of conversation, steady, sure.

She looked up from her untouched cup of tea to see him standing in front of her, arms crossed, expression unreadable to anyone who wasn’t her.

She sighed. “I’m fine, Hotch.”

“You’re in pain,” he countered, not unkindly.

“I’m always in pain after a case,” she pointed out, arching a brow.

His lips twitched in a way that was almost—but not quite—a smile. “This is different.”

He knew. Of course, he knew. She should have expected that.

Her shoulders eased just a little. “I just don’t want everyone fussing over me.”

“They’re only fussing because they care.”

She couldn’t argue with that. But still, she rolled her eyes, shifting slightly in her seat—only to wince when the movement tugged at her stitches.

Hotch sighed and sat beside her. “Case in point.”

She huffed, tilting her head back against the headrest, aware of the small, knowing glances being exchanged around the cabin. No one said a word, but she felt it—the way the energy shifted.

Like they were all watching something unfold, something inevitable.

She kept her gaze on Hotch. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance.” His voice softened just enough to make her chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with her injury.

And despite the pain, despite the exhaustion pressing down on her limbs, she found herself... warm.

Because he knew her. Knew when to push and when to step back. Knew how much she hated being coddled, but also knew exactly when she needed to be told to stop pretending she was fine.

It wasn’t suffocating.

It was steady.

It was him.

||||

The bar was too loud, too dimly lit, too full of bodies swaying and pressing together in a way that made her head ache.

She’d never wanted to come, not really. But Morgan had a way of making things sound like a good idea until she was already in them, halfway slumped over a sticky bar top, nursing a drink she barely had the energy to lift.

"You look like you’re about to pass out," Morgan teased, leaning his elbow against the bar beside her.

"Probably," she murmured, not even pretending to refute it.

She was wrecked. The case had been long and grueling, every hour stretching into the next with little more than caffeine and sheer willpower keeping her upright. When Morgan had invited her out, she hadn’t been sure why she said yes—maybe just to avoid thinking too hard about things.

But now, with exhaustion weighing her down and the music pounding too loudly in her ears, she wished she’d just gone home.

Morgan nudged her shoulder. "Alright, lightweight. You eat anything today?"

The question barely registered before she answered, too tired to filter her words. "I had dinner in Hotch's office."

It was out before she could stop it.

Morgan blinked. Then grinned.

"Ohhhh," he drawled, sitting up straighter, eyes lighting up in that way that meant trouble. "That’s why you two have been acting different lately."

She frowned, sluggish. "What?"

"Come on, don’t play coy now. Dinner? With Hotch? In his office? That’s why you’ve been all up in each other’s space. I knew something was up!"

Oh, God.

Her stomach plummeted, warmth flooding her face so fast she thought she might actually faint. "Morgan," she hissed, suddenly far more awake. "I—I didn’t mean—"

"You totally meant," he cut in, smug as hell.

She buried her face in her hands, groaning. "You tricked me into coming here. I’m too tired for this interrogation."

"You’re too tired to lie," he countered, tapping the bar. "And that’s the best time to get the truth."

She let out a long, slow breath, willing herself to cool down, to deflect, to not make this worse. But Morgan was already grinning like he’d won something, like he had all the confirmation he needed.

He leaned in conspiratorially. "So, how was dinner?"

She didn’t even bother answering. Instead, she waved down the bartender. "Two shots, please."

Morgan laughed, clinking his glass against hers when they arrived. "Now that is an answer."

||||

"I'm so sorry," she groans, squeezing her eyes closed against the admission.

Hotch has the nerve to laugh, covering his face with his hand. Red peers up and over his palm where it covers his expression. "I'm not mad," he insists, "just very amused."

"How is this amusing?" She asks, exasperated, turning to pace across his office.

"I've been opening flirting with you for months, almost a year. It's been a running joke, darling. It's amusing because you're only just now getting the heat for it. For reciprocating it."

"Reciprocating!" She exclaims, injust.

"Oh, are you not? Should I clear my calendar for tomorrow, then, cook for just me and Jack?"

She scowls, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "No," she pouts, voice near a whine. "I just thought you didn't want the team to know anything was up."

"Oh, so something's up between us now?"

Leave it to him to use this moment to tease you, of course. When she first joined the team, Hotch was broody and withdrawn. It hadn't taken long for her to see his exterior crack, the flaws shining beneath.

He appears as a rule follower, a stickler for what's right and just, but he constantly bends for his team, for the victims, for children. And now, for you, he bends so far from that rigid form people perceive him in she has difficulties seeing his stiffness anymore.

Still, moments like these shock her. Aaron Hotchner is a flirt and an expert one at that.

"Maybe!" She concedes, too flustered to wiggle her way out of his trap. "That's not the point."

"I think that's exactly the point." Hotch catches her wrist, halting her pacing. "But it's okay. I don't mind the others knowing that 'something's up' with us."

"Oh my god," she groans, heat in her face nearly as brilliant as her smile.

#x reader #bubbs.writes #criminal minds #cm #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #Aaron hotch x reader #Aaron hotchner x reader #Aaron hotchner fluff #criminal minds x reader #fluff #shy!reader #fem!reader #Aaron hotchner x shy!reader #shy!bau!reader

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mephisto-reporting · 5 months ago

Text

Silk, Satin and Sensual

Premise: Headcanons on his preferences for lingerie and his reaction when he sees you in them. Based on this request. Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. This is suggestive. Please do not interact if you are a minor. Caleb version is out!!. If you wanted to be added to my taglist, please DM, ask or comment :D Content warning: Suggestive. MNDI.

XAVIER

Xavier has a thing for soft, celestial tones like white, cream, silvers and muted golds. He’s drawn to fabrics that shimmer faintly, almost like starlight against your skin. He has a thing for delicate patterns, like lacework.

Sheer materials like mesh and chiffon drive him wild, especially if they reveal just enough to leave him craving more. He prefers the balance of teasing and revealing, where the fabric hints at your curves without fully exposing them.

He’s absolutely obsessed with your thighs and prefers lingerie that accentuates them. Garter belts, thigh-high stockings, and intricate lace shorts are his kryptonite.

If you have small celestial accents like tiny golden stars or moon charms hanging from the garters… good fucking luck. You are not walking the next day.

He has an unapologetic habit of tearing your lingerie when he loses control, so he’s constantly replacing your wardrobe. His explanation? “It’s not my fault they’re made so fragile. I’ll get you something sturdier—next time.”

Once the damage is done and your new lingerie is in shreds, Xavier looks annoyingly unbothered. He’ll casually toss the ruined piece aside and murmur, “Guess I’ll have to buy you another.”

He’ll commission a lingerie set made of delicate ivory lace with gold threads woven into it, shaped to mimic constellations. He’ll surprise you with thigh-high stockings that have faint, shimmering patterns running up the sides. These are always paired with garter belts because he loves tugging on them when he is intimate with you.

He’ll leave the box on your bed, wrapped in soft cream paper with a gold ribbon. Inside, there’s always a handwritten note in his steady handwriting. “For you. You’re too beautiful not to be dressed like the stars themselves.”

His reactions:

The moment he sees you in lingerie, his carefully composed demeanor melts away, replaced by an intense, almost predatory focus. His eyes lock onto your thighs, and his voice becomes a low murmur laced with want. He is the definition of: his eyes darkened.

Xavier likes the idea that these pieces are chosen specifically for his eyes. If anyone else saw you in them, even accidentally, it would ignite a streak of jealousy.

If you walk past him too many times, deliberately flaunting the look, he’ll finally snap. One moment, you’re teasing him; the next, you’re backed against the wall with his hands tracing the garter straps. “Do you want me to tear this off?” he’ll ask, his voice soft but carrying that dangerous edge. Spoiler: He’s already decided the answer.

ZAYNE

Zayne prefers earthy tones—rich browns, deep greens, warm ambers, and muted burgundies. These hues remind him of natural beauty, grounding yet alluring. He loves subtle details like lace trim, delicate straps that crisscross your back, or a ribbon that ties just above your hips—small elements that add to the allure.

Zayne is drawn to pieces that accentuate your waist. Corset-style lingerie, high-waisted panties, or teddies with cinched designs are his favorites. He admires the way they create an hourglass effect, appreciating your silhouette.

He has a thing for materials that feel good to the touch: silky satins, fine lace, and soft mesh. The tactile experience is as important to him as the visual.

Zayne has impeccable taste, selecting pieces that balance seduction with sophistication. Think satin teddies with plunging necklines or lace bodysuits with subtle, sheer paneling. He gravitates toward lingerie sets that emphasize your natural beauty rather than overwhelming it—clean lines, elegant accents, and designs that celebrate your form.

When Zayne gifts you lingerie, he makes it an intimate experience. He’ll lay the gift on the bed, wrapped in tissue paper with a single dried flower,something earthy and subtle, like a sprig of lavender or rosemary. His note is direct: “For when you’re ready to let me admire you properly.”

Zayne picks quality over quantity. He’d rather gift you one stunning, well-made piece than several forgettable ones. His selections are designed to last—not that he always gives them the chance to.

His gaze never wavers. When you wear lingerie, Zayne’s eyes lock on yours before slowly traveling down your body, making you feel like the most captivating thing in the world.

There’s no ripping it off, but it won’t take long before he’s slipping the fabric off. He’s not gentle, but he’s not reckless either. There’s a certain hunger in how he undresses you.

His Reaction:

When you walk into the room wearing one of his carefully chosen pieces, Zayne’s reaction is immediate. His calm is replaced by a sharp intake of breath, his eyes trailing over you with an intensity that makes the air feel heavier.

Zayne’s fingers brush over the fabric with deliberate slowness, his palms lingering against the soft satin at your hips. “Feels even better than I imagined,” he murmurs, his lips quirking into a heated smirk. “But I think it’d feel better on the floor.”

If you tease him, letting a strap fall off your shoulder or adjusting the lace just so—Zayne’s control begins to crack. His hands are on you instantly, his voice dropping to a growl. “You like testing me, don’t you? Keep it up, and you’ll see what happens.”

RAFAYEL

Rafayel is drawn to soft, pastel shade like gentle blues, lavender, and delicate purples. He prefers lingerie that’s sweet and soft, evoking a sense of innocence while still being sensual.

He gravitates towards cuter lingerie like bralette sets with flowing chiffon accents, babydolls with sheer overlays, or high-waisted lingerie shorts. He likes pieces that don’t reveal too much but are so alluring that he cannot keep his eyes off you.

Rafayel is obsessed with fine details such as silver waistbands that drape lightly like jewelry, chokers that gleam with tiny pearls, delicate chain straps on your bra, tiny dangling gemstones, or trims that sparkle subtly in the light.

Sheer robes, flowing fabrics, and fluttering hems draw his gaze as they cling to your skin over your lingerie like water waves. If you are wearing a lingerie, fresh out of the shower with your hair still wet, it is game over for this man.

Rafayel treats every moment with you in lingerie as sacred. He doesn’t rush; instead, he takes his time, savoring every detail like an artist admiring their finest work

Rafayel is the kind of person who doesn’t just buy off the shelf. He’ll have something specially commissioned for you, likely a set of lingerie that reflects your personality and his artistic sensibilities. His commission might even include small charms that are Lemuria inspired.

Rafayel, though loving, is bashful when it comes to gifting lingerie. He would likely have the lingerie sent to you without a grand reveal, perhaps bundled with other gifts like chocolates, perfume, scarves that might distract from his true intentions. His note will be brief, almost casual: “Some pieces I thought you'd appreciate, seeing as you're always so fashionable.”

His Reaction:

The first time you step out wearing one of his custom sets, a soft lavender bralette with delicate gold chain accents and a matching choker—Rafayel freezes. Rafayel can’t stop staring, though he tries to look away, his hand rising to cover his mouth as his blush deepens. “I-I didn’t think it would suit you this perfectly…” he stammers, his gaze flicking back to you despite himself.

“I… I didn’t mean for it to be so… um… revealing,” he stammers, eyes lingering on the intricate lace and the subtle gleam of the small jewels. “But… you look… divine.” When Rafayel touches the fabric, his fingers tremble against your skin. He’s so gentle, almost reverently so, as though touching you in this way is an act of worship.

"It’s like you’re wearing my art… and I can’t stop admiring it." His gaze will flicker between your face and the lingerie, doing his best to hold himself together. “Why are you doing this to me?” he’ll murmur with desire. “I just want to keep you here... like this... for as long as possible.” he whispers, voice barely audible, as though if he spoke louder, he might break the spell.

SYLUS

Sylus gravitates toward bold, classic colors like deep blacks, rich reds, and occasionally luxurious whites, midnight blues or dark emerald greens. These colors resonate with him. He appreciates the elegance of these shades, as they exude sophistication and bold sensuality.

He’s a silk and satin man through and through. These fabrics are smooth, luxurious, and irresistible to his touch. He loves how they glide over your skin and how they feel beneath his fingertips.

He loves classic, timeless lingerie: lacy bras with garter belts, high-cut panties that highlight your legs, and elegant teddies that hug every curve. Think luxury brands and couture pieces that scream sensuality.

Occasionally, Sylus surprises you with bolder, risqué styles: Cage-style bras with open backs, strappy bodysuits that playfully expose just enough skin, lingerie with sheer panels, leaving little to the imagination.

He doesn’t tear or rush; instead, he carefully folds each piece, placing it aside after everything is said and done. “I’ll want to see this on you again.” he explains with a sly smirk

Sylus doesn’t stop at gifting you a single set. Every outfit in your closet has a matching pair of lingerie. You’ll find lingerie for every occasion. Sylus alwayssurprise you with a box containing lingerie hidden among other extravagant gifts—fine jewelry, luxurious robes, or even a custom-made vanity to store your collection: “Maybe my luck is not be so bad if I am the only man who gets to see you in these, sweetie.”

For Sylus, lingerie isn’t just for the bedroom. He loves seeing you lounge in one of his tailored sets, reclining on his sofa as you read or listen to music together. Sylus is content to let his hands roam over the satin, enjoying the feel of it warmed by your skin. “Stay like this,” he’ll say softly, his voice a mix of command and yearning. “I want to keep you close.”

True to his nature, Sylus has a habit of keeping little trophies. He has a drawer in one of his private residences dedicated to these keepsakes as a reminder of your shared moments. If you ever catch him in the act of placing something there, he’ll simply shrug with a sly grin. “Can you blame me? I keep what’s mine.”

His Reaction:

When you step into the room wearing something he’s chosen for you, Sylus’ composed exterior falters, just slightly. His gaze darkens, and his lips curl into a small, satisfied smirk. He’ll take a slow step toward you, one hand tucked casually in his pocket, the other reaching out to trail a finger down the silk, letting it rest against your hip.

Without hesitation, he’ll scoop you into his arms, carrying you effortlessly to where he wants you—be it the bedroom, his grand leather chair in the study, or even the chaise lounge in front of the fireplace. “I’m not letting you out of my sight when you like this.”

Sylus never tears your lingerie—he unwraps you like the most precious gift, his hands moving with reverent care. “You deserve to be savored, not rushed.” he whispers, his gaze locked on you. He’ll seat you on his lap or lay you down, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate movements along the fabric. The lingerie is not just for his pleasure, it is for yours as well.

CALEB

Caleb prefers lingerie that’s just for him—sexy yet teasing, revealing enough to drive him mad but covering just enough to make him desperate.

Caleb gravitates toward sleek, understated sensuality. He favors deep, alluring colors like navy, black, and dark burgundy, shades that hint at elegance but still feel undeniably intimate. However, he has a soft spot for delicate lilacs and soft purples, especially when they complement your skin.

Minimal but devastatingly effective designs have him on edge. Thin straps barely holding everything together, high-cut panties that accentuate your legs, delicate bralettes that are more about aesthetics than practicality. He loves when the details like lace appliques or ribbon ties demand his attention. Anything he can tug, unravel, or ruin.

Let’s be real. Caleb is not a man who delicately undresses you. He’s been patient his entire life, watching, waiting, restraining himself. The moment you’re finally his? He’s not taking his time. “You knew what would happen when you put this on, didn’t you?” His voice is low, rough—before the sound of tearing lace fills the room.

If you ever wonder why pieces of your lingerie mysteriously disappear, don’t. Caleb takes them when you’re not looking, slipping them into his uniform pockets or luggage when he’s preparing for deployment. He’s possessive, obsessive, and when he’s away on fleet missions, he wants something of yours to keep with him. A delicate lace garter? A silk chemise you once wore to bed? He’ll tuck them away like trophies, running his fingers over them late at night, mind filled with thoughts of you.

He’s a man who gives gifts with purpose. He knows exactly what you want, and he knows what he wants. If he’s getting you that plushie you mentioned offhandedly, or the book you’ve been dying to read, you will find a carefully wrapped lingerie set alongside it. Every gift is a two-for-one deal—his way of spoiling you while satisfying his own desires. Tucked inside, there’s always a note with cheeky messages: "Making dinner tonight. But if you wear this, you'll be the dessert."

Caleb is the picture of patience in public. He knows what you’re wearing underneath your dress—he saw you put it on, watched every slow movement in the mirror. But he doesn’t let it show. Not a single twitch of his lips, not a single shift in his stance. He leans down, lips brushing your ear, his voice impossibly calm: “You’re going to regret this later.”

There is one thing that drives him past the point of no return— his clothes on you. Seeing you in his oversized shirt is one thing, but if he catches you lounging in his boxers? He’s done. His fingers dig into the waistband, his voice a rough whisper against your ear. “You must really like testing me, huh?” His breath is hot against your neck, his hands already tugging the waistband lower. Any plans you had for the day? Gone.

His Reaction:

When you step into the room, wearing something meant just for him, his expression darkens immediately. There’s a brief flicker of something feral in his purple eyes—desire, possessiveness, raw hunger. He doesn’t say a word at first, just stands there, his breath held. “You expect me to behave after this?” His patience is frayed, and it's clear he’s barely holding onto his composure.

Try to tease him, make him work for it and he’ll let you, for a moment. He enjoys the chase, the way you think you’re in control. But the moment he decides he’s had enough? You’re done for. One second, he’s watching you with quiet intensity, and the next, you’re beneath him, your wrists pinned, your breath stolen by the sheer force of his presence.

When he touches you, it’s as if he can’t get enough—his fingers move with purpose, reverence, but there’s an undeniable urgency. “You’re mine. Always.” And with that, his lips crash against yours, taking what’s his. There’s no gentle teasing here—this is pure, unfiltered desire. It’s clear there’s no going back now. You’ve pushed him past the point of no return. The soft, teasing lace may have been your choice—but now everything that happens from there is his.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

taglist: @cordidy

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