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milkweedman · 1 year

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Now that i think about i did entirely the wrong base for a slouchy hat (i find those look best with either a bunched crown or like a longer skinny crown so it can hang down some) .... i almost wanna frog the whole thing and do a totally different design

#which i wouldnt be upset about but i do need to get a start on my new years gift knitting #and if i spend the next week tinkering with this hat im gonna be in a rush #augh #decisions decisions #knitting #i mean i really like the flat crown base i do but i shouldnt have done it for this hat

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elusiveink · 4 months

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okay so my resolutions this year so far are to:

- join a regular writing or craft group

- get over my fear of dpns and try knitting a sock (singular - we're making no commitments to pairs because my first one will probably be a mess)

#my goal last year was to make a hat on circulars which i havent done yet :( but ive found a flat knit #pattern i love so i have no more desire for hats really #new years resolution #happy new year!#nye 2023

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peachesofteal · 5 months

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Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader 🎄 @glitterypirateduck’s December challenge: O Christmas Tree

"What about this one?"

You're standing next to a giant tree, one that's probably double your height. "It's a little big but-"

"I don't know if that will fit in your flat, sweetheart." You huff, hands on your hips, and Emmaline wiggles where she's snuggled against him, tucked up on his chest inside his arms. You've got her in some sort of snow suit, like a baby marshmallow, capped with a red knit hat that ties under chin to keep the ear flaps down, and even though she clearly hates it, and looks a little ridiculous, he knows the whole thing is keeping her warm in tonight's frigid weather.

"Okay. What about this one?" The one you're pointing to now is smaller, but sparse, a little prickly looking. He shakes his head. "You don't like any of them!" You protest, and Emma grunts, babbling some sort of nonsense.

"'m just doing what the boss here is telling me to do." She looks up at him, eyes bright with a little bit of snot beneath her nose, and he wipes it away with his thumb. "There you go, baby girl. I gotcha."

"She's not the boss." You step close with a shiver, close enough that he can see the fog of your breath, peek of your neck beneath your scarf, and he reaches out to pad his fingertips across your chilled cheek.

"Cold?" You shrug.

"A little." You dip forward to give Emma a quick kiss on the cheek, and at the same time, he ducks down, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. He's never going to get used to this. Never. Even now, in this moment, he can't believe he's walking a tree lot with you, debating which one to choose. Him. Simon Ghost Riley, picking out a Yule tree with you and the baby. His family.

There's a bang in the street. A car backfiring, probably, but it's enough that it startles someone else on the lot, and they shout, the combination like a shot of adrenaline to his heart, focus and intensity taking over, his movements shifting to autopilot. His hand covers Emma's head, curling forward at the same as he tugs you into his body with a firm arm around your back, essentially immobilizing you, keeping you close in case- "Simon." You say his name softly, gently, fingers holding onto his forearm. The touch grounds him, reminds him to breathe, and he relaxes slightly. "It's alright. We're okay, we're at the Christmas tree place. You're okay. You're with us." With you. With you and Emmaline. At home. He closes his eyes, repeating it in his mind, twice, three times, for good measure, before he trusts enough to uncover the baby's head and let go of you completely. You smile when he does, bright, beautiful, sweet, still working you touch against his arm, not stepping away.

"I'm sorry." He tries to explain, but you shake it off.

"Don't be. It's okay." You loop your arm through his, sticking close to his side. "Want to keep looking?" You ask, nonchalant, and he's overcome with emotion so strong it could bring him to his knees.

"Yeah, but I... I want..." he stumbles over it, words failing, and you wait, patiently, turning into him so you can look up at his face.

"What is it?" Holiday lights glow behind you, twinkling colors mixed with frosted whites, strung together across trees and posts and big red and green signs, 'O Christmas Tree' playing over the speakers that line the perimeter. He's never been one for holidays, never really cared about any of it, all the excitement lost on him, most of the celebrated days spent alone. But now... with you, with the baby, he feels the magic. He thinks he can even see it, in you, in Emmaline, and he's filled to the brim with the wonder, the anticipation for it all, to experience it all for the first time like this, with his angels.

"I want to kiss you." He says the same words he gave you a week ago, outside on the balcony, and you give you him the same smile, warm and welcoming, lips curling upwards with happiness.

"Please." You beam, and he obliges, your lips parting for his, getting lost in the taste of your mouth, decadent honey dripping across his tongue. You make him dizzy, make him stupid, make him so weak for you, and all he wants is more. He wants it all, wants everything you'd give him, and he has to hold himself back, cognizant of Emma in his arms, pulling away regretfully after five seconds that could last five hours, or days. Years. You clear your throat. "Well, okay, uh- should we?" You motion to another row of trees, and he nods with a laugh.

"We should."

Later, after the tree has been decorated, dinner has been made and cleaned up, fire started in the fireplace, Emmaline has had her bath, and you've changed into your pajamas, he sits on your couch with you curled into his side, both you and the baby asleep. It's late, and the lights are out, and he thinks he probably should have woken you to get you both up into bed, but he can't bring himself to shatter the moment, the silence, the fire, and the sounds of your breathing, face barely illuminated by the glow of the lights. He stays right there, listening to the crackle of the logs, staring at the tree, watching the two of you breathe, heart so full he thinks it could explode. This is it, he thinks. This is the magic.

#light on #peaches writes #codholiday2023 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soft dad simon riley

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kana-daydreams · 13 days

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𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 || 𝐋𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲

summary: in the pursuit to take down Enel, you’d pretended to accept his offer to become his wife. An offer which awakens a dormant and newfound feeling in your captain. genre: fluff cw: takes place during skypeia arc. minor spoilers wc: 0.8k

A piercing scream departs from your lips as wind rushes violently against you with no remorse. All while you free fall from hundreds of feet above ground to your impending doom.

“Luffy! Do something!” You urge the boy who keeps a firm grip on his hat, and like yourself, is currently plummeting to his demise arms-length away from you.

Luffy regards you, your cry met with silence as he attempts to figure a way out of your shared predicament.

A predicament transpired when you were unintentionally hurled out of Enel’s flying ‘ark’ by the self-proclaimed god himself, together with Luffy.

And all you can do as you near the dense foliage of the forest below at a horrifying and alarming speed, is squeeze your eyes shut and mutter out a rushed prayer.

A prayer answered instantly when you feel yourself land on something soft and…bouncy?

Your body propels into midair. Once, twice, thrice it bounces up, then falls back down onto the mysterious springy surface—until the motion slows to a stop.

You slowly unclench your eyes when you hear soft groans emerge from beneath you, soon realising you were settled atop a blimp-size Luffy.

“Luffy! Are you alright?” You clamber off his pudgy, pot-belly with haste.

Luffy reverts back to his regular size, pulling himself upright. “I'm..okay.” He groans, massaging a hand to his hatless head, his black locks sprinkled with leaves and pieces of twigs.

“Good.” You squint up at the sky, hand above your eyes as you trail the ship gliding further away in the opposite direction. “Let’s get back to the others.” You say, about to take a step in the predetermined direction, only to be hindered by the familiar feeling of rubber arms wrapping around your waist.

“What are you doing?” You direct, tone flat, at Luffy who reels you in towards him.

“Mmm…taking you hostage.” He grins as your back comes to press, flush against his firm chest.

“Hostage?!” Your mouth hangs wide, flabbergasted that your captain is considering playing a joke at a dire time like this. “Whatever this is Luffy; we’ve got no time for it.” You scold. “We need to get back to the ship.”

“No.”

Your brows furrow at his stubbornness. “No? What do you mean no?”

“No means no.” He says, innocently.

“Luffy?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t play with me.”

“Play what?” Luffy tilts his head to the side. “I’m not playing anything.”

“Then let go.”

“Nope.”

“Luffy—let. me. go.”

“Nuh-uh.”

You growl, your tolerance of his sudden (prevalent) childish behaviour growing low. You attempt to squirm your way out of his hold. “Monkey D. Luffy, you better get your slimy, rubber hands off me or—”

“Not until you promise.” Luffy’s arms hug you closer to his warm body.

“Promise? Promise what?”

“That you won’t be his.”

“His–who?” Your brows knit together, confused.

“Earlobes.”

In other words— Enel.

Back at Enel’s flying ship, when Luffy’d watched the lightning man wrap his pale arms snugly—possessively— around your waist, tugging you closer to his side, there emerged a foreign feeling in his chest accompanied by the sudden urge to rip his filthy hands off you.

And when you’d accepted his offer to become his companion? His wife? A lump settled at the bottom of Luffy's stomach and the feeling of a thousand needles pricked at his heart.

You stop struggling against his hold when he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, the soft strands of his hair tickling your skin.

“I don’t want you to be his.” He pouts. “So I'm not lettin’ you go until you promise you won’t become his wife.”

Earlobes? Wife? For a minute you fall silent as you attempt to put two and two together, your face scrunching and skin crawling in disgust when realisation hits you. “You airheaded idiot! Of course I’m not gonna be that narcissistic, lightning freakshow’s frickin’ wife!”

Luffy perks up at your words. “You mean it?!”

You heave an exasperated sigh. “Yeah. It was all a ploy.” You go on to explain your plan, concocted together with Nami to take down Enel when he’d lead you both to his ship.

A wave of relief washes over Luffy as he tunes out most of your explanation, and he smiles a wide smile, brimming with content that you’d never truly intended to become Enel’s bride.

“Now. Will you let me—”

Your sentence goes unfinished when Luffy suddenly plops a wet kiss on your right cheek, before unravelling you from his rubber confines; a cry of joy bursting from lips.

And you stand there stock-still as heat courses its way onto your face, only returning to your senses when you hear the familiar shout of “Gomu, gomu no…” and whirl around to see Luffy’s body shooting towards the direction of Enel’s ship.

“Luffy, wait! You forgot to take me with you!”

#𓇻 kana's op ddrms #one piece x reader #luffy x reader #one piece x you #op fluff #luffy fanfic #luffy x you #op x f!reader #op x you #luffy fluff

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raggedytiger · 2 months

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ragatha/agatha and pomni/penny human hcs!

(r)agatha:

is an english teacher!

yes she still loves horses. she used to ride them, & she loves old western movies.

owns cowboy hat and boots.

analytical and loves long & winding conversations.

has a very happy cat named sandwich.

patches her own clothes, doesn't have kids but if she did she would embroider their names into their belongings.

she still plays cello, she loves music in general, probably sings like an angel.

can't do any mathematics.

can drive, but like a lunatic. somehow has never had an accident though, so it's fine.

probably has a cute little baby blue/yellow car now, but definitely had a beat up offroader truck at some point that got put to good use. or maybe she still does, i'm not the boss.

total lesbian, a bit of a heartbreaker but not intentionally (women just keep falling for her)

goes to town/neighbourhood/community meetings. likely is/was in a knitting circle

absurd number of quilts in her home

pomni/penny:

is an accountant as we know, and cannot cook for shit as we know.

no pets she can barely take herself for walks. is more similar to a cat, but had a dog growing up. would love a collie or a dalmatian probably.

would name the dog something stupid like Thermometer Johnson.

she can drive, but nervously.

really quick thinker, like impressively, unless she's under HUGE amounts of stress. is literally always thinking at 100mph.

no sense of interior decor or personal style. all practical, kind of butch. really does kill a suit.

very much lesbian but not fully to terms with it. probably had short-lived relationships with men in which she was 'content' but didn't really care for it. seeing agatha as agatha for the first time was probably a crazy punch to her little gay heart. not to mention the cowboy gear.

autistic

watches 90s anime to wind down

listens to every single genre of music. passes a lot of time with headphones in, slowly making her way thru the entire world's discography

owns no band merch or anything though she just listens

can't sleep without a fan on, thunderstorm 12hr audio, blackout curtains, weighted blanket, water nearby

does not sleep a lot

both of them (going to call them pomni and ragatha for convenience):

didn't immediately recognise one another. i havent got an exact idea of how they reunited after getting out, but there were tears.

bonded in a very rare and unique way - they got to revel in the newfound joys of real life again. they got to eat delicious food, go on long, unobstructed walks in the real sun, be warmed by it, chew on ice cubes and shiver at the pain, listen to each other's heartbeats, listen to real music, read real books, smell soaps and flowers and sauces. they went to the supermarket together and read all the labels, and bought one of each type of fruit to try between them, and smelled all the candles, and touched all the blankets. spent a lot of time holding hands and kissing and i'm sorry to say, probably having sex, because holy shit, i'm real, you're real, we're real

now live together in ragatha's apartment, after pomni moved out of her small and confusingly-furnished flat.

both of them feel inadequate from time to time. this is resolved by a stern-but-loving talking-to.

sandwich likes pomni very much. pomni doesn't really get cats, but loves sandwich a great deal, and enjoys letting her sleep on her lap.

ragatha is very pleased to see her girls getting along.

ragatha cooks, pomni chops the veg. she often doesn't fuck it up

pomni cleans a lot as a 'thank you for letting me live here, i love you'. she's very much acts of service, ragatha is words & physical touch <3

they watch a lot of movies together. depending on how long they've been stuck, they might have culture to catch up on

ragatha wants to have a house with a garden one day. pomni starts germinating seeds from their fruit & veg like a weird science experiment. ragatha is delighted when she is presented with a baby tomato plant.

clothes are shared. ragatha's are bigger, but most of pomni's are ill-fitting anyway so it can go both ways. ragatha likes to dress pomni up in different outfits and have her do a little fashion show. pomni pretends not to savour the confidence boost.

pomni starts sleeping more

#ok im tired so thats it now. BYE #tadc #pomni #ragatha #the amazing digital circus #buttonblossom #tadc pomni #tadc ragatha #jesterdoll #ragapom #tadc headcanon #ragatha x pomni #pomni x ragatha #tadc hc #tadc humanization #human versions

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sluttywoozi · 9 months

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After LIKE Part Two | smg x f!reader

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~5.2k

You and Mingi find out what happens after like.

Part One

Warnings: weed mention, grinding, dirty talk, big dick!mingi, oral f. rec., fingering, possessive!mingi, restraining but not really, unprotected sex, creampie

Reader Notes: wap, gets carried by mingi, hands are smaller than mingi's

You sit heavily on your bed, your skin still shiny with lotion and a damp towel holding all of your hair. It’s been a week since that day in the car, and you haven’t seen Mingi since. It’s no one’s fault - you’ve been insanely busy with school and work and he picked up a new apprenticeship so your respective free time has been limited.

But you just finished up at the cafe and you’re pretty sure Mingi mentioned keeping his Friday’s clear, so you’re hoping you’ve caught him at a good time. You miss him, like you never thought you could, and it doesn’t help that you can’t stop thinking about what happened last week.

Nobody’s ever kissed you like that, so thoroughly, so passionately, so carefully, like getting to be close to you at all is a privilege, and you want more. You want to see him and touch him and kiss him and you want to do it now, so when your phone lights up with a text, you open it and bring it to your face immediately.

You squeal, dropping back to rest on your bed and holding your phone to your chest as if it’s something precious. Twenty minutes means he’s dropping whatever he was doing to come to your place, and you feel your heart squeeze in your chest as you picture him zipping around his apartment, getting ready to come see you.

Twenty minutes also doesn’t give you a lot of time to get dressed and tidy up, but you keep your flat relatively clean so there isn’t too much to do. A quick sweep over your bedroom, living room, and kitchen confirms this. The real dilemma is in what to wear.

Do you go for full comfort, like you know he will? Do you wear something cute but casual, something that makes you look like you’re trying but not too hard? Should you risk going for sexy? You do have that little satin pajama set…

In the end, you decide on a pair of lounge pants that make your ass look amazing and a tank top that’s just low cut enough. You’re comfortable, but you still feel and look hot and you hope Mingi will think so as well.

You miss a time where you didn’t agonize over your clothing choices, but you suppose this is who you are now. Someone who goes through five different outfits before landing on the right one, someone who sits on their couch and waits for a knock, someone who all but runs to the door when it finally comes.

Mingi seems as relieved to see you as you are to see him, thankfully. As soon as you get the door open, he breathes a greeting and pulls you into a hug, your arms wrapping around his neck and his wrapping around your waist. He smells so good, fresh and clean and manly, and when he pulls back to press a kiss to your forehead, you feel yourself melt.

It’s a good thing he’s holding you up, and you only become more grateful as his eyes travel from head to toe, roving lovingly over every clothed inch of you. Your agonizing was not in vain, it seems, his gaze filling with heat before he clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. He apparently forgot he’d pulled a beanie on because he knocks it right off his head, making his cheeks tint in a blush as he leans down and swipes it off the ground.

Mingi wrings the knitted hat in his hands and shifts on his feet, looking at you through his eyelashes. You grin affectionately, reaching up to fix his hair with your fingers before cupping his cheek and tilting your chin. He takes the hint, leaning in and softly pressing his lips to yours.

This kiss is just as good as the rest, just as sweet and right and perfect, and when he pulls away, you can’t swallow the sigh. You wish he was still kissing you, but he opens his mouth to speak instead.

“So, did you wanna buy today? Or…,” he trails off, looking nervous for your answer.

“No, I just wanted to see you,” you respond with a shy smile, holding a hand out with raised eyebrows.

“Oh,” he exhales, tension you hadn’t noticed in his shoulders fading away as he beams back at you and takes your hand in his bigger one. You lead him to your couch, sitting down first and patting the cushion next to you. Usually, you go to his place, and you can tell he’s feeling a bit out of sorts here.

You don’t know how to soothe him beyond behaving normally, so that’s what you do. You turn the TV to the show you both watch on repeat and chat at him until he loosens up enough to let his thigh touch yours. His warmth radiates into you, drawing you into his gravity and making you lean closer and closer until you’re all but pressed against his side.

He shifts next to you, his arm raising and staying aloft until you snuggle in and get comfortable. His arm feels heavy when he drapes it over your shoulders, but it’s a welcome weight, one that makes you feel safe and content and, honestly, a little sleepy.

You could easily doze off like this, nestled into his side with his heart thumping under your cheek and your breathing synced with his. When his fingers start to play with the ends of your hair, you know it’s not only a possibility, but an inevitability. You can feel every blink growing longer, every breath growing deeper, and as his fingers climb their way up your hair and to your scalp, you let your eyes fall completely shut.

Hopefully, Mingi won’t mind you having a little nap.

When you blink awake, your flat is dark but for the flashing light of the TV. Mingi is breathing slowly under you, and you look up at him to find his eyes closed and his lips gently parted. You don’t know when you became horizontal, but you can’t say you mind, with Mingi’s chest beneath your cheek and his thick thigh pressed between yours.

You can feel something else pressing against you, but there’s no way. Sure, Mingi could be having a very good dream, but the, for lack of a better word, pipe that lays against your inner thigh is just too fucking big to be real. But he is 6 foot, and his hands and feet are massive, so is it really that hard to believe his cock would be huge too?

“Mmmm,” Mingi rumbles under you, his chest vibrating with the depth of his voice. You can feel him start to wake up, his fingers twitching in your hair and his belly raising as he takes a deep breath in.

His eyes open slowly, his head angling in different directions as he looks around your dark flat. Grinning down at you sleepily, he tugs your hair and murmurs something you can’t make quite out, something about warmth and being happy. You can tell the exact moment he realizes how hard he is, his body tensing under yours and a sharp gasp leaving his lips.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he shifts under you and tries to pull his hips away. “Don’t be, it’s not your fault,” you attempt to smile reassuringly, petting his abs over his t-shirt and attempting to keep potential awkwardness at bay.

“You’re right,” he deadpans, “It’s your fault.”

“It is?” you freeze, your smile falling and your hand stilling on his stomach. He smirks down at you, obviously proud of his little turn around and almost obnoxiously attractive as a result. You don’t know what else to say, and you’re sure he can tell, probably even likes having stunned you.

“What do you think I was dreaming about?” he quirks an eyebrow at you, letting his eyes fall to your lips.

“My sparkling personality?”

“Nah, babe. But if you don’t want to hear it, I won’t tell you.”

You know he’s teasing you, but you rush to say, “No no no no, I wanna hear it!”

You can tell he’s biting back a smirk at your enthusiasm, making you shift on top of him and inadvertently grind against his hard on. He clenches his jaw, the hand not tangled in your hair finding its way to your hip for a sharp squeeze.

“I was dreaming about you, laying in your bed in the dark, just like the photo you sent me.”

“You couldn’t even see me in that,” you remind him, but he shakes his head and breathes, “Maybe not but I knew you were there, and because I couldn’t see you, I had to fill in the blanks for myself. What you were wearing, what you were doing, who you were thinking about…”

He pulls your hips into his, the thickness of his thigh spreading your legs further and making you press harder against him.

“And in my dream, you weren’t wearing anything. You were naked, fresh out of the shower like you were when you answered the door, and you were touching yourself, thinking about me. Do you ever do that? Touch yourself and think about me?”

You gasp at his bold words, your mind going back to what exactly you did that night after you sent him that picture. How does he know?

“I know because I do the same thing, babe. I lay in my bed and I think about you, and I get so fucking hard, I can’t stand it.” His voice is deep now, his eyes half lidded and his cock throbbing beneath you as he works both you and himself up.

“Tell me, please. What do you think about?” he begs, grinding you over his thigh and gasping when he feels how your wetness has soaked through both of the layers on your bottom half.

“I think about you, how you would touch me and what you’d want to do to me and how big you probably definitely are and-”

And before you can finish exposing yourself, his mouth covers yours in a needy kiss, his groan so low pitched, you feel the vibrations in your pussy. He grows harder against you with each grind, the front of his sweats getting progressively darker from both his leaking cock and your weeping cunt.

“Fuck, can I touch you? I’ve wanted to get my hands on you for fucking years.”

“Years?!” You choke, bucking in his hold and struggling to sit up. You straddle him, your hands planted on his chest, and nearly shout, “Explain!”

Mingi grimaces, removing his hands from your hips to press his palms to his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at you as he responds. You won’t allow that, pulling his hands back and returning them to their rightful place while he gathers his courage.

“When I went up to you at San and Yeosang’s party, I wanted to ask you to dance. I saw you in my classes but you only seemed interested in learning so I didn’t want to bother you, and when I saw you at the party, I thought it was time to shoot my shot. But I chickened out and talked to you about class instead and you looked kinda… disinterested, until you saw the joints.”

All your breath rushes out of you, leaving you lightheaded and swaying on top of Mingi as you process his words. He’s been into you… this whole time? No wonder he was so upset after your first kiss, he’d been envisioning it for three years.

“I’m not saying I’m in love with you, I know that would be a lot and that we don’t actually know each other that well, but I want to get to know you that well. I want to be able to say I’m in love with you and I want to know that you’ll say it back.”

You’re a little relieved to hear that he’s not in love with you, and over the moon to hear that he wants to be. You’re also slightly scared because admitting your feelings has never been your forte, and you know it’s your turn now.

“Mingi, I- I could see myself falling in love with you. You’re so thoughtful and sweet, you know my favorite snacks and what to do when I’m stressed - you’ve always taken care of me. And it helps that you’re ridiculously hot.”

He flexes beneath you, grinning so brightly you’re nearly blinded with it. He’s also still hard, still throbbing and pressed between your legs, and your hips move before you can even think about why they shouldn’t. Nevermind that you’re having a conversation three years in the making, you have a need that’s been brewing just as long.

His head tips back at the friction, his jawline so sharp, you want to cut your tongue on it and his neck so tantalizing, your teeth ache with the desire to sink in. There’s nothing stopping you, so you lean down and drag your canines over his jugular, nipping your way to his ear to whisper, “And yes, you can touch me.”

His whole body trembles in a shiver, his cock twitching under you and his hands so tight on your hips, you know you’ll bear his fingerprints later. He gives you one last squeeze before smoothing his hands up your back, pulling you flush to him and sitting up in a movement so sudden, it steals your breath and sends your heart galloping.

You don’t have time to reorient yourself before he tips you backwards and gazes down at you with half-lidded eyes, his hands hovering over your body like he doesn’t know where he wants to touch first. You’d think after so many years spent yearning for you, he’d have a plan but-

“Can I take this off?” he breathes, his palms already sliding up your stomach and taking your tank with them. The fabric obscures your vision as soon as you nod, your arms automatically raising to allow him to pull it all the way off. You’re left in a bralette and your lounge pants, and before you can ask him to, Mingi hauls his shirt over his head, leaving you speechless and far too distracted to assist him in taking your bra off.

He glows in the natural light flowing into your living room, his muscles defined and his hair messy. He looks like a dream, literally, he looks like he did in the dream you had last night, except now you can really see him, touch him, feel him. You can feel his fingers fumbling behind your back to undo the clasp, you can feel his strong arms bracketing your waist, you can feel his warm thighs spreading yours apart.

You can also feel how wet you are, especially now that air is coming into contact with the damp gusset of your pants. You’d be embarrassed if Mingi wasn’t hard enough to cut a diamond, if he wasn’t wide eyed and slack jawed at seeing your top half bare, if he wasn’t currently ducking toward your chest with an obvious mission in his eyes.

He cups your breasts with his hands, testing their weight and holding them up for his seeking lips, his mouth wrapping around one nipple and his fingertips rolling the other. Your back arches at the wet heat that engulfs you, a sharp gasp escaping when he sets his teeth into the soft flesh and gives it a tug.

Pulling away to admire his handiwork, he brushes a thumb over the mark he just left and leans back, curling his fingers in the waistband of your pants and beginning to tug. You lift your ass just enough to help, letting Mingi fold your legs up and yank the pants off of them like he’s personally offended by the article of clothing.

You’re left in just your panties, and thank God you chose a cute pair because he’s looking so closely at you, you want to squirm. His eyes feel like physical weights on you, his hands shaking where he carefully places them on your stomach and drags them down. As he tucks his fingers into the waist of your underwear, you expect him to start taking them off but instead, he pulls them up, putting pressure on your clit and outlining your wet folds.

“What are you doing?” you gasp, one hand flying down to curl around his fingers and the other clawing at the arm of the couch.

“Having some fun.” His focus is still stuck between your legs, his voice gravelly and low, “I waited three years, babe, I have a lot of ideas.” That’s all you need to hear, the reminder of how long he’s wanted you.

“Play away,” you release his hand, letting yours join its twin above your head, and he groans at the picture you make.

“So fucking pretty, baby. Keep your hands there, yeah?”

You nod and do your best to stay still as he hikes your stretched underwear up high on your hips and spreads his knees, splaying your legs even further apart. You’re almost completely exposed like this but it’s hot, you feel hot, like maybe Mingi is the lucky one here, not you.

He’s definitely acting like that’s the case, muttering little compliments under his breath and touching you so reverently you’re shocked he’s not on his knees worshiping you. When he tucks your knees up and slides down the couch so he can shoulder your thighs apart and stare right at your clothed cunt, you wonder if that’s his next step.

You wouldn’t mind, don’t mind this, bar the fact that you wouldn’t miss your underwear. You mind it even less when he tentatively places his palms on your thigh and starts to glide them up, his calluses from lifting dragging against your sensitive skin and making you shiver.

His thumbs trace the edge of the dampened fabric, threatening to slip under and touch you bare, and you could cry at how much of a tease he’s being. You’re aching for it, your pussy so empty and wet, you won’t be surprised if he has you begging before he even takes his pants off. You’re almost ready to beg now, and just as you open your mouth to let out a, “Please,” he slides his fingers into your panties.

“Fuck,” you say in unison, your utterance sounding more like a sigh than a swear as he glides his thick fingers through your folds and over your clit. It throbs under his touch, desperate for attention, but he bypasses it to dip into your entrance and gather more of your wetness on his fingers.

He uses his other hand to pull your underwear to the side as he brings his fingers up into the light of the TV, spreading them and smirking at the strings of arousal that bridge the gap. You whine and cover your face with your hands, embarrassed at how wet you are and at the fact that he’s practically gloating over it.

“Don’t hide,” he chastises you, sucking at his fingers before peeling your hands away from your face and returning them to their place above your head. “I love how wet you are, it makes me feel good and it’ll be easier for you to take my dick later.”

He returns his focus to your cunt, licking at his lips like he’s chasing the taste of you he’d just gotten and asking, “Can I eat you out? Need you in my mouth.”

“Please!” you gasp, watching him stare at your pussy like you’re a ten course meal and he’s famished. He dives in as soon as you finish speaking, his lips finding your clit so fast you don’t even have time to take in another breath before you’re gasping again and digging your nails into the couch to keep your fingers from disappearing into his hair.

The sounds he makes as he feasts on you are obscene, his whimpers and groans and grunts sending pulses of want through your body that all end where he begins. Shaking his head, he buries his tongue deeper within your folds, curling it around your clit and sliding it as deep inside you as he can reach. No one has ever eaten you out like this before, like they’ll die if they don’t taste every drop of you, like your cunt is air and they’ve been suffocating, like they’re on death row and you’re their last meal.

It’s incredible, and it only gets better when he pulls just far enough back to rasp, “Fingers?”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, Mingi.” Those may be the only words you know now, all others erased from existence by his appetite. One finger prods at your entrance before sinking in with ease thanks to how drenched you are, and you clench down around it without even thinking, your body so needy for something to fill you up that just one of his thick fingers is enough.

A second joins the first, the stretch making you sigh and his lips around your clit making you keen. He curls them, rooting around for your g-spot and finding it before you can take another breath. Digging in, he rubs his calloused fingertips over the sensitive patch of nerves, your back arching and your walls fluttering as he fucks you with his fingers.

He sucks at your clit, worrying it between his lips and laving at it with his tongue, and already, you’re starting to get close. “Harder, Mingi, please,” you whine, needing just a bit more to get there and more than willing to tell him.

His fingers pound into you, hooking into your g-spot on every thrust in and spreading on every stroke out. It’s a tight fit but he works another finger in beside the first two, his digits so much longer and thicker and better than yours. The stretch adds another layer of pleasure to what you already feel, your cunt so full with his fingers, you almost can’t believe you’re going to take his cock.

But, by God, you will, or you’ll die trying. First, though, you’ll cum.

It was really only a matter of time, and when he curls his fingers into your g-spot and leaves them there with a harsh suck of his mouth on your clit, you’re done. The wave that overcomes you is inescapable, pulls you under and into a state of rapture so blinding, you almost don’t even notice his eyes on you.

But, there they are, watching you tumble through the orgasm he pushed you into with a heat and headiness you’ve never seen before. Knowing that he’s watching you makes everything better, heightens every sensation and draws out every burst of bliss, and when he finally pulls away, he’s still watching you.

His lips are swollen, the whole lower half of his face soaked with your arousal, and he’s looking at you like he could go for seconds, thirds, and fourths. You’d let him, would let him drown in you all day if he asked, but right now, you need him to split you open.

“Fuck me, Mingi,” you half sigh, half plead, your face crumpling in impatience when he takes his time pulling his fingers out of you before licking off every single trace. He grins up at you from between your spread legs, resting his cheek on your thigh and exhaling, “Say it again.”

“Fuck me, Mingi,” you whine, “Fuck me, fuck me, fu-”

He pushes your legs apart and slides up your body, resting his hands on either side of your head and connecting your mouth with his in a searing kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, and you love it, love tasting the physical evidence of your desire for him and his hunger for you.

Your fingers tuck into the waistband of his sweats and he mumbles, “Off,” into your mouth, taking over when you take too long. He pushes them and his boxers down, kicking them off his legs and leaving his massive cock hanging between your bodies and brushing against your stomach.

It’s hot to the touch and leaking precum onto your skin, and it’s also the biggest you’ve ever seen, think enough to ache in the morning and long enough to reach the end of you. Any trepidation you feel vanishes when you look back up to Mingi and find him examining you with a worried expression.

“Do you think it’ll fit?” he gently asks, looking back and forth between his body and yours with doubt.

“Make it fit,” you tell him, widening your legs as one of his hands reaches down to line his cock up with your entrance. You both watch him enter you, watch his cock split you open and spread you apart, watch it carve a path inside you that’s for him and him alone.

He shudders out a long breath as your cunt stretches to welcome him, his hips getting closer and closer to yours until they’re pressed together, his cock fully seated inside you and filling you to the brim.

You can’t breathe and it seems he can’t either, his elbows buckling and his upper body dropping to rest on yours. He’s mumbling something into your shoulder, a litany of words you can’t make out and one phrase you can, “Fucking tight and wet and perfect, never felt this good, never.”

You preen beneath him, your pussy fluttering and your hips wiggling, making him groan deep in his chest, press his teeth into your skin, and give you a sharp thrust. You buck back, following him when he recedes, and he starts moving his hips in an unhurried, smooth rhythm, his movements eased by your overflowing arousal and the three fingers he’d opened you up with.

He fucks you like that, slow and deep and dirty, until you feel like you could scream. It feels amazing, and you love being this close to him, but you need him to go harder, faster, need him to fuck you like he means it.

“Mingi,” you begin, your voice more ragged than you expect, and he lifts his head up with a smirk, grinds his hips against yours, and pulls back, sitting up on his heels and hoisting you into his lap.

You can��t hold in your gasp at the new angle, nor your moan at the way he fills you again, and again, and again. You clench down at the picture he makes, his abs flexing with every thrust and his hands huge on your hips, while he bullies through your tightness to tap your g-spot with the head of his cock. Your back arches, a wounded cry leaving your open mouth as he starts fucking you in earnest, just like you wanted.

It’s perfect, he’s perfect, everything you could ever need or ever want, and suddenly, you feel the urge to tell him.

“Mingi, you’re so fucking good, you fill me up so well,” you whimper, and you can feel him get harder in you, feel him twitch and leak and throb.

“Like nobody else, right?” he questions breathlessly, his hands tight on your hips and his brow furrowed.

“Like nobody else,” you confirm with a squeeze of your insides and a sigh of his name.

“And there won’t be anybody else, right?” he punctuates his question with a rough thrust, his cock reaching a depth that makes stars swim in your vision.

“No, baby, nobody else.”

Grinning savagely, he pounds into you, the sound of his movements inside you pornographic and nigh embarrassing. You’re so ridiculously wet, there’s a squelch every time he pushes in and a gush of arousal every time he pulls out, and both your thighs and his shine with it. Thankfully, you don’t have any thoughts to spare on being embarrassed, your hazy mind too occupied with Mingi and retaining the capacity to breathe.

“There’s no one else for me, too, you know that?” he speeds up, his hips slapping against yours and his head tipping back even as he keeps talking. “I tried, but I just keep coming back to you. Haven’t even dated in- in a year, because your pickups were enough for me, fuck, I’m close.”

A year?!

You didn’t even realize you were nearing that peak but when he shifts one hand down to rub your clit, you’re suddenly right there, teetering on the edge and waiting for him to fall over with you. He battles through the clenching of your walls to hit your g-spot, his aim so precise it’s like he’s got a lock on it, and it’s enough to break you.

“Are you cumming, baby?” he asks desperately, and you find it in yourself to nod even as your orgasm steals your breath, your voice, your ability to think. He wheezes, “Thank fucking God,” and you can feel his cock start jerking and jumping inside you as he fills you up with white, hot cum. The sensation draws out your release, makes each wave hit harder and longer, makes your cunt clench and ripple and undulate around him until he’s shaking and near tears.

“Fuck,” he sighs, pulling a hand from your hip to wipe at the sweat coating his forehead before letting himself slowly fall down and cover your body with his. You catch your breath while he rests, your pussy still pulsing around his softening dick as a combination of your cum starts to seep out.

“Can we take a shower?” you inquire in a small voice, your fingertips digging into his toned shoulders and your legs starting to ache.

“Course, baby,” he breathes, snaking his arms under you and pulling you up into his chest as he gets off of the couch. You didn’t expect him to carry you, scrambling to wrap your legs around his waist, though you know he’d never let you fall. He stops at the entrance of the hallway, unsure of where to go.

Soon enough, he’ll know your apartment as well as you know his, but until then, you direct him, “First on the left,” and hide a grin in his shoulder when he stubs his toe on the doorframe.

AN: posting part two a bit early in honor of mingi’s birthday!! im overjoyed with all the feedback i got on part one and i can’t wait to hear your thoughts on the conclusion!

thank you to @petrichor-mingi for beta reading and thank you to @bbychocolat for the original commission 💖

My Masterlist

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thekims4 · 6 months

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Cottagecore Dress Lookbook

Hair / Skin 1, 2, 3 / Eyebrows / Eyes / Eyelids / Eyeliner / Blush / Lips

Dress

Daisy Flower Long Dress @rimings

Puff Sleeve Ruffle Long Dress @lin-dian

Retro Long Dress @lin-dian

Bozena Dress @cinnamon-sims

Bubble Sleeve And Suspender Skirt @lin-dian

Women's Dress @lin-dian

Vintage Frill Bib Dress @rimings

Strapless Long Dress @rimings

Acc

Hair Band @lin-dian

Hat (20220421) @lin-dian

Hat (20220719) @lin-dian

G Crystal Earring @rimings

Mellifluous Collection - Earrings @rimings

Summer Poison - Square Earring @rimings

Sweet Heart - Earring @rimings

Yina Necklace @pralinesims

XOXO Set - Liana Necklace @enriques4

Brigadeiro Nails @candysims4

Bow Gloves @lin-dian

Gloves Chanel @kryp-tonita

Flower Branch @yakfarm

Hydrangea @yakfarm

Lily Flower & Basket @natalia-auditorets4

Tulip @asansan3

Knitted Socks @jius-sims

Shoes

Shoes Pack 68 @arltos

Suede Kitten Heel Pumps @jius-sims

Suede Lace-Up Flats @jius-sims

Pose

Catsblob @helgatisha Hongzo @ratboysims @roselipaofficial

#thekims4 2023 #ts4 cottage living #sims 4 cas #ccfinds #sims 4 lookbook #ts4 lookbook #ts4 #the sims 4 #ts4cc #simblr #sims 4 cc #thesims4cc #sims 4 clothes #sims 4 custom content #the sims community

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milkweedman · 1 year

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fiber arts really is such an insane category of Things in how it can draw you in. like, 6 or 7 years ago i learnt to crochet and made a few terrible hats and scarves. then i learnt to knit because i wanted to knit a scarf for my friend (now fiance :D). then i realized it should be a woven scarf so i picked up weaving instead, but i still really liked knitting so now i was doing 3 crafts. somewhere along the way i started dyeing yarn as part of my kitchen experiments, and then i was like fuck it i wanna make my own yarn ! and that is where the problems happened. in the span of like 5 years ive acquired like $2000 of various tools (spinning wheel, combs, cards, blending board, several looms, etc), bought dozens of fleeces, and now my bedroom is basically a craft room with a bed, i have wool covering every flat surface in there as well as a huge dresser full of wool and several large drawers full of wool, i meticulously scrape every last bit of avocado out of the peel so i can use it to dye fleece, and i don’t go anywhere (including in my own house) without at least 2 knitting projects and a spindle.

im not complaining or anything, but the rapid shift from ‘guy who does stuff, idk’ to ‘guy who is worryingly obsessed with wool and will infodump at length about medieval sheep husbandry and the history of nettle as a textile if you give him half a chance’ is like. extremely funny to me.

#this is what happens if you mix adhd autism and wool i think #its got the Textures. its got the stimmy movements. its got the Things To Do Idly With My Hands So I Don't Start Dislocating My Thumbs #like. its crazy #sorry the edible hit like halfway thru writing this #idk where i was going with it xD #spinning #and yes ives youre to blame for 90% of this i think #<3

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evergreenfields · 30 days

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Tea for Two

Part 2 of Yours Truly, A Hostage (Part 1).

After rescuing you in Piccadilly Circus, the Captain takes you up on your invite. Naturally you make tea, scones and sexual tension.

Pairing: Captain John Price x fem!reader

CW: explicit smut, piv sex, penetration, fingering, descriptions of a male body and female body (reader). MDNI.

Words: 3.5k

A/n: Let me know what you think! Also, I love how reader can afford to live on her own.

——

You honestly didn’t mean to be folded in half and speared so deliciously by John’s cock. It was only supposed to be tea and scones.

He arrived promptly, not giving you a chance to worry you had been ghosted.

You open the door to find him standing with his hands clasped at his front.

“Hello.” He says, it’s a rumble, heat fills you.

“Hi! Come in! Let me take your jacket.” You wave him into your tiny flat.

“Thanks, love.” You don’t watch as he shrugs it off. He’s wearing a green plaid shirt that hugs his broad chest. He looks different to yesterday, you thought he may look smaller as he wouldn’t be encumbered by all the gear and harnesses. But he was still huge, tall and broad. He’s not wearing a hat so you see his hair is neat and kind of side parted with a lot of grey. He’s in dark blue jeans and boots which probably added another 2 inches to his hulking frame.

“How did you know I love a tea party?” he marvels at the teacups while rolling up his sleeves revealing strong bulky forearms covered in dark hair.

“My third eye.” You point mysteriously between your eyebrows, trying to be nonchalant even though you feel flustered as he essentially started the foreplay by revealing his muscled forearms.

“What else does that third eye see?” He looks at you, it's strange how such icy blue eyes can show heat.

“It sees you behaving yourself.” You say with more gumption than you actually felt. You carry over the teapot and he waits to seat you. You can’t help but laugh awkwardly as he gently tucks your chair in.

“You didn’t have to do all this.” He says with mirth, the delicate teacup in his large hand was making you feel a certain way. You try not to stare.

“It’s a bit much.” You say quietly, “but so was yesterday.” Your thighs bounce up and down nervously. “How’s your friend, teammate, the younger guy, Gaz?”

“He’s alright, he sends his best,” Price didn’t want to reveal the full conversation they had when he told Gaz he got your phone number. Things like “but sir she’s closer to my age” and “no sir, she wasn’t complimenting my facial hair.”

“Oh bless him,” you say, touched.

“Are you okay? What you went through yesterday was no cake walk.” His brows knit together.

“It’s not really hit me yet, to be honest.” You admit, feeling conflicted because you were absolutely sidetracked with getting ready for a date with an SAS captain. You had left your statement at the police station earlier in the morning.

“If you need to talk, I’m here. And there’s no shame in speaking to a professional. A proper professional.” When he smiles, his lips disappear into his moustache and you find it was so endearing, smiling unintentionally along with him.

“Are you always like this with… rescued hostages?” You say earnestly, you’re not sure where you’re going with it.

“Definitely not.” He sits back, ramrod straight, “especially as you were so subtle.”

You feel mortified at how eager you were yesterday and it must show because he leans forward with a concerned hand out, as if to say ‘wait’.

“I’m glad you weren’t subtle,” he says quietly, “I was really taken by you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” It feels weird hearing something so vulnerable, it doesn’t feel real. You feel flushed.

“Are you okay?” You ask him, “I know it’s your job but… it must be such a weight on your shoulders.” You reach out without thinking and squeeze his hand, it’s hot while yours is cold.

“You’re sweet,” he whispers “I’ve been doing this a long time, love.” He turns his hand over and envelopes your fingers, you feel patches of rougher skin.

You nod feverishly “I’m sorry I - it’s another world. I just sit behind a desk.” You’re in uncharted territory, he operates in another world, a dangerous one, one that collided with yours yesterday.

“You don’t need to apologise, it’s an important desk.”

You’re not satisfied with that. Trying to find the right words, caressing circles with your thumb into his hand, you blurt out “you were really brave.” You speak through the embarrassment.

“I couldn’t see you but I could hear you.” Your heart rate climbs. “It was…” you breathe out “so decisive and final.” He squeezes your hand. “I knew I was safe.”

He smiles warmly and covers your small hand with his. You sit like this for a moment, in the moment. You were sure the events of the last 48 hours would dawn on you heavily but right now you felt grounded.

“You’re wondering what to do with your other hand now, aren’t you?” He chuckles, breaking the silence.

“Am I that readable?”

“You’re an open book.” He smiles warmly, crows feet etching into his skin.

You reach over and tentatively cup his cheek, his beard tickles your palm, your thumb caresses his cheekbones, he has bags under his eyes, you sense you were right about him carrying unspoken weight. “Am I?” Vulnerability seeps from your pores.

You breathe from your mouth and on your second intake, John has a hand on the back of your neck. His azure eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips. You didn’t realise how your hands got to his shoulders and on the back of his neck.

He pulls you in slowly and you engulf him, the band has snapped, the kiss is deep and forceful. He controls the pace which is deliberate and slow. He bleeds into you and you feel dizzy with the intensity. His mouth is molten on yours.

You both break away with a pant, the table shakes and the cutlery clinks.

“You alright, love?” Both of his hands are back on the table, palms down, unthreatening. His voice is no longer suggestive, but clipped. You search each other’s eyes.

“I’m good.” You nod frantically.

“We can go as far as you want, we can stop right here, you’re in charge alright?” Your heart and stomach flips.

“I-.” You laugh, shaking your head, all you can feel is the wetness growing in your knickers.

“Talk to me, love.” He flips his hands so his palms are facing up.

“I’m not usually like this.” You say, standing up, “but then yesterday wasn’t usual either.”

Pushing your chair back abruptly with a squeak, you climb into his lap and straddle him. You hear a quiet vibration from his throat, a delectable groan.

“If it makes you feel better, neither am I.” He feels just like you imagined but better, harder, expanses of muscle and a layer of mass. Your dress barely covers your ass as you seat yourself on his lap. His hands move along your waist and down to the swell of your hips. You can smell his cologne and see his eyelashes flutter again as his gaze roams over your chest and neck.

He looks up at you and you can’t look back, his gaze is too intense, you want the floor to swallow you up. You look up to your left, feeling goosebumps as he explores your exposed thighs. He presses them, sighing.

He kisses your neck. You feel tickled by his beard hairs and flexing thigh muscles. In response to his kiss, you do what any respectable woman would do on top of a man, you push against his hardening cock. The chair creaks as he bucks his hips up to meet yours, both of your heavy breathes filling the room.

When he hears the moan that tears from your throat, he is undone. He imagined what you sounded like while he got dressed for the date, and this didn’t hold a candle to it. With one swift motion he pushes his seat back and lifts you up. He squeezes your ass which causes your cunt to flutter and twitch, your knickers fall into your folds.

“My bedroom’s out there to the right.” You wrap your legs around him and you feel something hard.

“Fffuck!” You gasp and grind into him, unashamed.

“That’s my belt buckle.”

You whine in response.

“In time, in time.” he kneads your ass while minding your knees through the tight corridor. He gently lays you on the bed and pushes you into the mattress, manoeuvring so his growing manhood is against your throbbing cunt.

“This is a nice room.” He says seriously while only looking at your eyes and pushing his erection against the juncture of your spread legs, waiting for your reaction.

You gasp, “oh it’s big” and push back against him. His eyes roll and you feel emboldened at the sight of this burly man, a captain no less, lost in how your body feels. You reach up under his shirt to feel the mass of his pectorals, you’re electric with need. His bulky arms on either side of your head frame your vision.

“Darlin’ you are beautiful.” He unbuttons his shirt with one hand while still hovering over you. He likes the blush that falls across your features when he opens his shirt. He kisses you deeply before quickly taking the shirt off his shoulders, pecs flexing and skin shining with sweat. You catch that narrow waist and a happy trail of hair disappearing into his jeans which you resented were still on.

You didn’t realise you said “fuck” out loud again and his laugh hits you in your core.

“Your dress is really pretty, can I take it off?” John drawls, you nod and smile dumbly at his flattery, he’s clearly enjoying your fucked out brain working overtime.

You wriggle out from under the dress and let him pull it over your head. His hands claim your breasts in your lacy bra, fitting perfectly in his palms. You think you heard him groan “s’soft” before pressing his lips to yours.

“Did you wear this for me?” He pushes the lace to either side of your swollen breasts and sucks on your nipples. He teases them gently, pleased to feel they were hard and ready for him. The rough pads of his fingers give you much needed friction.

You look up at him doe eyed and then say “I did. Why are your jeans still on?” with a hard tug of his belt.

You see him laugh silently, shaking his head. He gets up from the bed. The loss of his weight makes you bounce up slightly. You pant and touch yourself, mewling at the ceiling.

A wry smile appears on his face as he bends to take off his boots, watching you intently as you draw circles on your clit through your knickers. He drops his boots next to your slippers, they are massive in comparison and you find yourself breathing in sharply.

Finally the zipper comes down and he shucks his jeans. You watch his bulge intently as he moves.

“Are those boxers regulation?” Your mouth is dry. He laughs and you feel that same flash of affirmation you felt when you first met.

“Are you always like this?” He doesn’t climb on top of you, instead he lays beside you and places his hand on top of yours, taking over the job of drawing circles into your bud. He then slides his middle finger down and up your wet slit, collecting your dew in your knickers.

“Definitely not.” You manage to say before you moan and shudder at his touch, you feel a tightening coil and the pleasure spreads through your body like shattered glass, instant and permanent. His fingers are deft and the movement precise.

“Y/n, you’re so wet.” John’s breathing is heavy against your cheek. You look at him as if to say something but when you meet his eyes, you’re speechless. Only a moan comes out and you snap your eyes shut as waves of electricity hit you. You don’t realise your hands are on your breasts.

“Tell me what you want.” He grits against your temple, hot and humid.

You open your mouth but you can only moan while he teases your clit with fleeting strokes.

“Tell me,” John slides your knickers to the side, eyes down at your glistening sex, “what you want, love.”

You arch your back and turn your face away from him, shy and overwhelmed. You really were in charge of the pace.

“I want you inside me.” Your voice muffled by the back of your hand.

His thick fingers followed the curve of your mound and down to the dip of your entrance. Slick with your juices, it doesn’t take much for his index and middle fingers to push through. John’s cock twitches at the sensation of your tight, hot cunt. You hear him take a sharp inhale.

“Tha’s it.” He begins pumping and you’re embarrassed to already feel an orgasm building. God he’s good at this you manage to think. His fingers curl up to your g-spot and you start to see specks of light behind your closed eyelids. John revels in the sounds of your wet pussy around his fingers and your moans. He adjusts himself, mindful of the undeniable tent in his boxers.

“John I’m- I’m- gonna!” You pant in time with his pumps. You can see his massive forearm and bicep moving between your smaller by comparison legs, his once parted hair now messy and his dark gaze on you - you’re pretty sure that’s why you came so suddenly.

“Oh god fuck!” You call out, the orgasm pulsing through you violently. Your stomach involuntarily convulses and you writhe, one hand knotted in the duvet and the other one clutching his free arm. John watches as you ride out the orgasm, the broken pants and small whines short circuit his brain.

“Fucking hell.” He breathes. You look up at him, neatly groomed beard, a strong dimpled chin and a smirk that could kill. He’s stroking his hand over your thigh and up to your stomach, his eyes are hooded.

“I’m not on birth control,” you say with a parched mouth. You roll over to a drawer and pull out protection. You tear one from the packet, you know it can be a deal breaker for men but it sorted the riff from the raff.

“I had no idea you wanted to have sex.” He says dryly, a prominent bulge in his boxers. You chuckle and slap him playfully in the chest, leaving the packet against him.

You trail your hand down his chest.

“It’s all yours.” He muttered as you pushed past his waistband to find his heavy cock. He breathed out with a guttural groan, calling you darling. You bite your lip and ignore the redness in your face, he’s well endowed and you’re almost afraid to see it. You remove your hands and pull at his waistband so his reddened cock springs out.

“Of course it’s huge.” You mewl, pulling back on his foreskin gently to reveal a pretty pink and leaking tip. John tenses at your needy touch, restraining himself.

You slink to the floor and manoeuvre yourself between his legs. John's heavy breathing fills the room. You reach behind your back and unhook your bra. You shuffle closer and the tip of John’s cock smears precum on your breast.

“Oh love, you already said thanks,” he laughs, bucking his hips so his cock is nestled in your cleavage. You press your breasts together around his manhood and bounce on your haunches. The Captain grunts, his hands pushing your hair out of your face. You stare at his engorged cock appearing and disappearing between your breasts.

Soon he gently pulls you toward him and peels your knickers off. He makes quick work of putting on the condom, you like that he does it in front of you.

“Let me take care of you now.” You climb onto him and rub your slit along his cock, coating it with your wetness.

“You’re perfect.” He groans in response, fingers digging into your hips. You grind faster and faster, moaning with abandon.

“Are you always such a gentleman?” You stutter, rolling your hips, your hands splayed across his muscled chest, your cunt quivering around nothing.

He laughs and flips you over, his arms on either side of you. You giggle in surprise and then choke out a groan when he pushes his cock against your core.

“Please fuck me” is all it takes for his resolve to crumble, on top of your supine and smooth body, smelling like flowers and white musk. You moan in unison when he pushes his tip against your core, his hips shifting closer and closer. Your pussy clenches around his girth.

“Oh god - is it all in?” You stutter, blood rushing to your face, your cunt pulsing at his sheer size.

“Just half way, love.” You hear the smirk. “I’ll slow down.” He pushes himself deeper tantalisingly slowly. You pant when his hips are flush with yours, eyes fluttering. You wonder how you looked stretched around him.

“You alright?” He checks.

When you nod, John sets a steady pace, pulling mostly out and then plunging back into your heat, down to the hilt.

“Oh god,” you shudder, hands gripping his shoulders. His stomach connects flatly with your clit.

“You like that?” His voice distorted with the movement.

“Yes! Yes!” He speeds up and your world is a flurry of motion. His thrusts are fast and sharp and they push you into the mattress.

You feebly try to bring your legs up onto his shoulders.

“Deeper?” He snarls, his day couldn’t get better. He easily swings your legs onto his shoulders, the backs of your knees wet with sweat against his chest. You’re folded into a mating press and speared by his cock. The friction melts you, you’re surrounded by his mass, his scent, his strength.

You thank the stars for his training because his stamina is unwavering. The bed frame creaking, mattress thumping and lewd noises from your wet cunt hits his ears, he’s not going to let this be a 1 and done.

“I think I’m gonna-”

“Do it darlin’, cum on my cock.”

“No no - I think I’m gonna wet myself.” You shudder, a palm to his chest.

“You won’t, trust me.” He grits out while maintaining fevered eye contact, “let go.”

And with that, your orgasm tears through you and you cover both your nethers in liquid.

“Oh f-uck!” You writhe and roll your hips, John slows down to languid thrusts, whispering into your ear “tha’s it, good girl.” The aftershocks spasm through your body, your toes tingle and you babble incoherently, having never squirted before.

“Mmm, y/n,” the Captain hovers over you and looks from eye to eye. He unsheathes himself from you which is met with a whine from your parted lips. He plunges himself back in. You’re wide eyed and breathless at the motion.

“Yes John!” Your nails dig into his shoulders and your calves and feet flop uselessly over his back as he thrusts quickly and deeply, slamming into your sex.

Soon his hands are under your knees and you're folded further, the angle causing him to connect with your tender spot. You feel a fizzle build in your stomach again.

With unnatural speed and precision, John gets you on the precipice again. You begin to feel him quiver, his muscles coiled and tense as he pistons in and out of you. One of his hands squeezes your right breast and the other is on the mattress.

“Please Captain, please,” you coo, trying his rank on for size with a broken moan. With that, John erupts inside you with a violent shudder, his member pulsing stripes of white hot seed. His orgasm is sharp and absolute.

“Ah love, fuck,” He grunts, his thrusts turning sloppy and his grip loosening on your tender breast. “You’re something else.” He barely manages to grit out. You stay entwined for a few moments, savouring the afterglow between kisses.

“Let me clean this up.” He climbs off of you, a finger trailing down your left breast. You’re too fucked-out to respond.

“To the- to the um left.” You call out to him but he’s already found your bathroom. He catches his reflection in the mirror, his sweaty and hairy chest heaving, face flushed red, hair falling onto his forehead, his softening cock hangs between his sweaty heavy thighs, with a full condom.

He swings by the kitchen for two glasses of water, still naked. He likes how your face softens when he passes you a glass, he doesn’t know if he’s flattered that you only looked at his eyes when he appeared.

He joins you in bed, both of you gulping water.

“Tell me,” your voice is hoarse, you add a pause, “what you want.”

John peers at you as if you’ve grown another head. Then a suppressed smile grows across his face as he realises. You are secretly proud of how you copied his accent.

There’s a pause and you patiently give him some grace, he drains the glass and places it on the bed side table.

Finally he turns to face you with softness in his eyes and says, “you. Asleep on my chest, love.”

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freshstitches · 1 month

Text

Last month, Sixth & Spring publishing reached out to me to review the new Short-row Colorwork Knitting book by Woolly Wormhead. Woolly is best known for designing clever hat patterns that employ the use of short-rows to create dynamic shapes in colorwork. I've never made one of her patterns, but have long appreciated them as a sort of brain teaser. Each one seems to fit together like a puzzle of yarn. I've now spent a month with this book, reading through it and using it as a textbook to learn Woolly's signature short row technique.

The cover of the book has a frosted glass feel, which I think is nicer than a glossy cover. Three of the brightly colored stitch patterns are displayed along with the title. The book contains 50 stitch patterns and 10 projects. The yarn for the publication was provided by malabrigo so every stitch pattern is shown in beautiful tonal yarn. I also noticed a stitch key on the inside of the flap of the cover that folds out so you can look at it when you're working on a pattern. I love the consideration for the reader and the functionality.

This book is written like a workbook, it starts by giving you all the tools that you need to use to knit the stitch patterns then use them in your own projects. The first few chapters explain the short-row colorwork fabric, the chart system, ways of altering the motifs in the book and color theory. I was not left with any questions about the instructions. The next section of the book contains tutorials teaching the basics of short row knitting, the skills that are needed to complete the patterns are shown with photos. There's even a photo tutorial on knitting backwards - a huge time saver. It seems like Woolly and I have the same party trick.

Next, I tried making a few of the stitch patterns with my new skills. The chart system was intuitive. The first swatch is the Sine Stripes pattern. The swatch in the book showed a selvedge, which I added on my swatch as well. Next, I tried making the Anemones motif. I did not add a selvedge this time, but felt confident using the lessons to shift the placement of the short rows. None of the short rows were changed,I just cast on extra stitches and practiced moving the motifs. I did not have a chance to try any of the "repeatable" stitch patterns yet which can be used in the round as well as flat. The majority of the book is spent on these adaptable stitches.

I didn't have time to try any of the projects, but noticed a good mix of different accessories. I appreciate the inclusion of multiple designers showing different perspectives and approaches to the Short-row Colorwork technique. The final chapter of the book explains different design considerations, inviting the reader to actually use the stitch dictionary portion of the text for their own applications. The properties of some of these stitches are unique and the lessons are helpful and explaining all different scenarios that may come up.

I always intended to get this book, and it definitely lived up to my expectations. It's incredibly thorough without becoming overwhelming. If you enjoy learning new things, this is a great purchase. It's currently available for pre-order and will be available in the US on April 16th and in the UK on May 14th. More info is available on Woolly's website. And you can preorder a copy of the book on Amazon.

#knitting #yarn #woolly wormhead #short row colorwork knitting #book review #crafts #colorwork

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