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satosugusandwich · 4 months

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His Angel and His Brat

Part 1!!! Part 2

Hard!Dom!Geto x Brat!Gojo x obedient!afab!reader

(I also try to write my fics to be racially ambiguous! No mention of skin tone or hair type!)

Summary: Gojo is a mega-brat to y/n and Suguru and likes to push buttons cuz he can so Suguru decides to overstimulate Gojo until he thinks he’s broken. (Key word: thinks.) To add to Gojo’s humiliation, he ensures that the reader is getting princess treatment while watching Gojo suffer endlessly. But, of course, things don’t always go as planned with Satoru Gojo.

CW and whatnots: Overstimulation, vibrators, cuffs, finger sucking, condescending!geto, usage of the word “cock”, gojo’s boundless stamina and cocky attitude, anal play, cum licking (off the floor and gojos pp) praise, cocksucking, angel ass reader that ends up in trouble cuz gojo can’t shut his mouth, geto is actually so mean to gojo but so soft cuz he’s actually a teddy bear dw. Use of “brat, princess, angel.” There will be aftercare in future parts cuz imagine leaving pathetic satoru a cum drenched mess. Poor baby. :(((

There will be additional tags in future parts. This is how I cope with ch 236.

Suguru runs his thumb along your bottom lip, licking his own lips while you whimper. Your pretty eyes fixated on his blushing face and half-lidded eyes. He looks at you with so much lust and is so gentle with you, just so in love with how much you please him and how willing you are to do what he wants. You eagerly await him and his orders, always ready to obey.

But.

“Suguru!”

Satoru’s cry makes his face go from pure admiration to utterly sadistic. “Satoru.” He says, looking at the man to the right of you, the same man that’s panting and whining as the vibrator in his tight hole runs relentlessly. “Jealously doesn’t look very good on you.” He grins and hits a button on the small remote he holds in his hand that isn’t occupied with your mouth.

“Fuck—FUCK!” Satoru’s eyes clench shut, the whirring sound coming from his bottom getting faster and bit more high pitched. You’re grateful you aren’t in his position, you don’t know if you could handle Suguru having full control of how much pleasure you get to feel. Especially if that pleasure is ongoing… and nonstop.

Satoru looked unusually pathetic and… weak. It’s insane to think that the so called strongest sorcerer, the cocky, the arrogant, the man on top, bends to the will of his pretty best friend. Suguru’s change in character comes as a shock too. The sweet, soft-spoken, gentle, and empathetic sorcerer is now grinning down at his partner, showing no mercy, no kindness, and is only sending Satoru into deeper throes of overwhelming pleasure. You almost didn’t want to look at Satoru, what if Suguru surmised you wanted the same treatment. Would he show you mercy?

“Now, now,” Suguru muses, “if you can beg me properly, I’ll stop your torment. And of course you’ll need to apologize to Y/n and I for being such an impatient little shit.” He chuckles softly and withdraws his thumb from your mouth. “She’s being so well-behaved while you whine and whine and cry and cry about how much it is.” He mocks him, furrowing his eyebrows together in a false pity. “I suppose I should expect it, after all, you’ve cum how many times? That pressure against—“ Suguru crouches as he speaks “—your prostate—“ he runs the tip of his fingers up Satoru’s base “—it’s been nonstop for 30 minutes now.”

You can’t help but watch as Suguru’s hand starts to stroke Satoru now, giving expert attention to his neglected yet tortured cock. Suguru notices how you eyeball his actions and can’t help but smile wider.

“Ah, do you feel left out?” His false pity changes back to his gentle expression. “It’s alright, princess, why don’t you show Satoru how impressed you are with his stamina. Give him a little reward?”

Suguru is evil.

“I don’t think he could take it, Sugu.” You answer honestly.

He looks a bit disappointed but he relents his ministrations. “I suppose you’re right. But he still owes us an apology before his punishment ends.”

You nod and meet Satoru’s eyes. He can barely speak as his next orgasm approaches. “I-I’m so—“ his body is shaking. “I’m so sorry! I’ve been so—Suguru—so impatient! Please, I’m so so soo!!! So sorry!” He’s almost in tears now, you can tell Suguru is even beginning to feel pity for his best friend and his brat.

“Ahh… cum one more time and I’ll take it out. Show me you deserve mercy by pleading. Plead for mercy.” Suguru’s fingers tug at your nipples now, clearly losing interest in Satoru’s torment. You know that you aren’t being punished, but seeing Suguru like this… makes you a little weary.

“Please please!” Satoru repeats the word over and over. “I’m so sorry! Please, mercy!” He keeps prattling on, thrusting into the air as he struggles to keep together.

“Y/n.” Suguru looks to you. “Clean up his next mess for me. Lick his cock clean and then it’ll be your turn.”

Satoru starts to mumble and moan out different variations of thank yous and Suguru’s name as he reaches his final high. And when he cums, It’s a mess. Semen spills from his cock and your immediately there to catch it. Suguru’s eyes widen, absolutely loving your eagerness to take his cum down your throat.

“Good boy, good girl.” He pets your head and clicks the toy off, causing Satoru’s to collapse completely, his body weight bearing into the now standing legs of Suguru. He catches his breath, still whimpering as Suguru pets his head. Satoru looks you in the eyes, his beauty keeping your gaze fixated on his body. His six eyes are a little red, probably from the tears that he held back, and his body is flushed beautifully, his pretty cock slowly going soft as he does his best to calm down.

Satoru relaxes back on his knees while Suguru goes behind him to remove the toy from his ass and undo Satoru’s hand cuffs. You breathe a sigh of relief for him, always impressed by Satoru’s unwavering stamina and attitude. You wondered how Satoru enjoyed pissing Geto off so much, does he really enjoy these punishments that much? Suguru seemingly loves the after effects of a good punishment, his adoration of Satoru is evident in the way he kisses his head and gently rubs his back while Satoru regains his strength.

As much as you love watching, you are wondering why Suguru invited you to observe Satoru’s punishment. You’re not really complaining and it definitely isn’t the first time you’ve seen it, but, all you’ve had is a thumb in your mouth and a little bit of cocksucking. After all, Suguru can’t ever stay entirely focused on Satoru, he needs some pleasure himself.

Satoru seems to be wondering the same thing. “So, baby, why did you bring her in to watch?” He asks, rising from his knees to give them a break.

Suguru looks down at you. “Just on a whim.” He strokes your face before looking back toward his brat. “And I’ve noticed you get more worked up with an arousing audience.”

“Well, wouldn’t you if she was licking your cum from the floor?” Satoru grumbled, sitting on the bed.

Suguru turns his attention back toward you. “She does love cum in her mouth.” He strokes himself slowly, catching your attention.

“I want yours next.” You tell him, shifting your weight and sending him a smile.

Satoru watches as you lean forward to lick Suguru’s cock, taking his precum on your tongue. He doubt he could handle anymore cumming, but he certainly loves to see you take cock down your throat. If he had more energy, he’d love to stuff his down as well. “Like it that much, y/n?” He chuckles.

Suguru’s eyes shoot to Satoru. “Jealous again, Satoru?? Well, the question is are you jealous cuz my cock is down her throat or are you jealous cuz it’s not down your throat?”

Satoru sucks his teeth. “I want to watch her take me balls deep.”

Uh oh.

Suguru removes his cock from your mouth. “Satoru,” you start, “I don’t think you have enough energy to keep that attitude up.” Indeed, his stamina is incredible.

Suguru waits to see his reaction.

And of course, the other man grins and only adds fuel to the fire. “Think she’d look better with my cock in her mouth. She’s been paying more attention to me than you anyways.”

“Satoru…” you sigh and in seconds Suguru has him pressed back into the bed and is beckoning for you to get on with him.

Satoru laughs. “Aw, did I bruise your ego, baby? What are you gonna do about it?”

Suguru points to his mouth. “Sit on him to shut him up and I’ll give him a nice view of my cock in your mouth.”

Fuck, that sounds hot. Satoru just grins and motions for you to ride his face, pointing at his eager tongue that’s already out and waiting.

“Y/n, make sure he stays quiet I don’t want to hear him make a single peep. And since he likes being punished so much, I’ll punish you instead if he speaks.”

What?

You blink. Undeniably aroused but a bit scared of his now very evident sadism. “You know he’s going to try to speak now on purpose?” Mercy isn’t exactly his thing right now but you’ll pry at it for sure.

Suguru gives you an evil grin as you lower your weeping pussy onto Satoru’s face. “Then keep his mouth shut.”

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk #jjk smut #satoru gojo #cockygojocockygojocockygojocockygojo #jjk gojo #jjk suguru #jjk geto #satosugu smut #geto x reader #geto smut #suguru smut #satosugu x reader #satosugu

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thefabulous-mostgroovy · 1 month

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Mr Bonzo’s on his way

(description under cut)

image one description: two depictions of Mr Bonzo from The Magnus Protocol. the first is child friendly and brightly coloured: he has a pink hat with a yellow flower sticking out the top, a puffy white shirt with ruffles on the neck and cuffs, pink and blue striped overalls, giant yellow gloves and big black clown shoes. he has a long, toothy grin with bright red lips and cheeks, oval eyes with red triangles on the top of sides of his eyes, pale pink skin, and a big red nose. he is very round, with a small head and no neck, which leads into a large belly and short legs. underneath him, with an arrow pointing to him, is a note that reads 'canonically a Mr Blobby recolour but fuck it, we ball.' next to him is a scarier version. the outfit is the same but desaturated, baggier and ill-fitting. his large hands drag on the ground behind him and knobbly knees bow under his weight. his grin is longer with wrinkles around where it stretches his face. his eye holes are still ovals, but round eyeballs sit in the middle, with dark space above and below. above the main drawings, three doodles fill the empty space: a cuter, laughing Mr Bonzo, a crude drawing of Mr Blobby with the words 'gross, disgusting, ew' around him, and a nervous and sweating Gwen asking if Mr Bonzo can read, with a note underneath her reading 'woman with PRIORITIES!!'

image two description: two close ups of the scarier Mr Bonzo's face. the first is unchanged, but a halftone is layered over his toothy grin. a label on his left reads 'costume has a mesh mouth for actor to see out of.' the second close up has real teeth, each one long and blunt and textured like wood chips. The teeth are evenly spaced apart from each other, but not touching. the inside of his mouth is a dark, brownish red, getting darker towards the back of his throat. a label on his right reads 'mesh falls away to reveal teeth (not soft)'

#twinkification will never catch me bitch #tmagp #the magnus protocol #mr bonzo #tmagp fanart #tmagp spoilers

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sixteenth-days · 4 months

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Zombie grian as a prompt? :D

"Alright, calm down," Grian said irritably, the words punctuated by the crack of his shoulder snapping back into his socket. At least it didn't really hurt; there was only a dull ache, quickly fading. "It's not that big a deal."

"Not that big a- you're dead!" Mumbo was white as a sheet, pacing erratically back and forth between the narrow walls of the underground room. He was wringing his hands together restlessly, fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves.

"Well, yes, but I'm fine," Grian said, a statement that was somewhat undercut by one of his crushed fingers falling to the ground with a wet noise. "Ugh. Mumbo, you couldn't have chosen a cleaner method of getting my soul out?"

Mumbo looked rather like he was about to cry. "I thought you would just respawn! I didn't think it mattered! Oh, no. Oh, this is so bad."

Grian rolled his eyes, and abruptly found himself in the very uncomfortable situation of having to tip his head back to keep one of them from falling out of his skull. Oh, really? Really?

After another minute or two of frantic pacing, Mumbo said, "Do you... do you think I can give it back?"

"Yes, let's put you in the crushinator, shall we?" Grian snapped, holding the loose eyeball in place with his less-damaged hand.

Mumbo hesitated, looking visibly unenthusiastic. "...Do you think that would fix it?"

"No, I don't think that would fix it," Grian said. "Or at the very least I'm not willing to risk it. Can you pick up my finger, there? I still can't bend over all the way, my spine's all out of whack."

Mumbo, looking nauseous, did so. "Grian, I feel... very bad about this-"

"Well, good," Grian said, slipping the finger into his pocket. "You can help me explain what you've done to Cleo when I go ask her if I can borrow her sewing kit."

Mumbo looked, if possible, even more ill at the thought.

#had a TON of fun with this one i LOVE comedy gore #mumbo jumbo #grian #gore #again #hermitcraft season 8 #my writing #fanon switcheroo prompts

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selineram3421 · 11 months

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*hides away* I shall not explain.

Making A Baby

Oneshot

Alastor X Vampire-like Demon Reader

Warnings ⚠

⚠ a baby(lol), both of y'all ace, blood and gore, kinda gross tbh, Alastor tolerates children ⚠

You and your husband were sitting at the small kitchen table, enjoying the peaceful rainy morning with a cup of coffee.

"Alastor.", you called out to him.

"Hm?", he hummed, not looking up from the book he was reading and taking a sip from his mug.

"I want a baby."

You looked over at him just in time to see him have a spit take, his book now soaked in coffee. The man in red put both items down on the table and began to laugh, grabing his handkerchief to clean himself.

"Excuse me.", he chuckled, wiping around his mouth and then patting down the cuffs on his suit. "I thought I heard you say you wanted an infant."

"I did.", you respond, taking a sip from your cup.

Then he looks at you a bit worried. "You know sinners can't have children, correct? And I wouldn't be comfortable doing-", he says and you stop him.

"I wouldn't force you to do that."

Both of you cringe at the thought of it.

"And I know we can't have an actual child but..", you sigh, a small frown appearing on your face. "I just want someone to take care of."

Getting up from his seat, Alastor makes his way in front of you before kneeling down and taking hold of the hand on your lap in both of his.

"Children are messy.", he says.

"Nothing like you I hope.", you smile and roll your eyes when remembering him coming home covered in blood.

"They can be loud.", he says.

"Your radio static can be loud love.", you counter and put your mug on the table before booping him on the nose.

"And they are menaces to society.", he gets your other hand and places kisses on your knuckles.

"So are we.", you say.

Both of you are quiet for a moment, and you feel a bit anxious to hear what his answer will be.

"What did you have in mind darling?", he asks.

"Really?", you say excited.

Your man in red nods and you pull him up into a hug.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you-!", you repeat, then pull back from the hug a bit to cup his cheeks with your hands and pepper his face with kisses.

Alastor lets out a laugh and pulls you into a proper kiss, which helps you calm down from your excitement.

Both of you pull back and take a breath.

"Now will you tell me what you had planned?", he asks with a soft smile.

"I was going to ask if you have any spells that could help us actually make a baby.", you say and nudge him back softly to signify that you wanted to get up.

The Radio Demon steps back and helps you off of your seat, lifting you up by your hand.

"It might be possible.", he says with a hum as he thinks. "We can make a spell if there isn't one to be found."

"I'll help to find spells if there isn't one in your books and we can get the ingredients together!", you say and then gasp. "We need to make them clothes! And a crib, toys, bibs, little caps to keep their head warm!", you ramble.

"We'll get to that, but first let's look for a spell.", Alastor pecks you on your forehead.

Both of you went to look for a spell in Alastor's little reading corner, the shelf lined with multiple books on voodoo and other types of witchcraft, picking out a few to start searching through. Spending a few days and nights trying to find something.

After searching for a while, you only found a small spell that was similar to what you were looking for.

"We can build onto this one, it that fine?", he asked, looking up at your standing form behind his chair.

"Yes, its perfectly fine.", you nod and smile down at the book in his hands.

It made it a little easier building on a spell that was already made, and there was only a few things that you needed to get but...its going to be a little messy.

Your smile grew wider.

We're going to have a baby.

A heart, eyeballs, little teeth, small finger and toe nails, flesh, a large bowl of blood, fresh flowers of baby's-breath, and a piece of the parents.

You handled the flowers since Alastor wouldn't be able to hold them.

Both of you got everything set up, the large bowl filled with blood on top of the drawn circle on the floor with the four elements around it, jars to the side ready to grab when needed, flowers in your hand, and the paper that held the spell.

There was warm water in a small bath tub to clean the baby after on the low table nearby. Along with clothes and a small baby blanket.

"Ready?", you ask, looking over to your husband who is kneeling down with you.

It seems like he's taking a moment, so you wait for him and place a hand on his.

"We don't have to do this if you're uncomfortable.", you tell him softly. "I'll still be happy if its just us."

The deer demon shakes his head and looks at you with a gentle smile. "I was just wondering if the baby would look more like you or me.", he holds the paper up and reads off the first thing to put in.

One by one, you put in the ingredients and it comes to the point where both of you have to put in a piece of yourselves.

"I want them to have your hair.", you speak up. "It'd be nice."

"What will you give then?", he asks, plucking a whole strand of hair, putting it in the mixture.

"Hmm..", you hum, holding up the flowers still in your hand. "Some blood and..", you say, biting the tip of your finger and letting a drop fall into the bowl, then put the flowers in. "..everlasting love."

Both of you watch as everything sinks down at the bottom till its out of sight and wait. Then it starts bubbling up until it suddenly stops. A little nose shows up first and then the rest of the body, the blood helping the baby float.

You both stare in awe.

And then the little one starts crying.

"Sh shh-shhh.", you take them out and hold them close, not caring that your clothes were getting covered in blood.

Alastor helps you up and both of you walk over to the small tub and wash the blood off of the baby. They wail and wriggle but both of you manage to get them cleaned and clothed.

Then you set the baby down on the soft black blanket that's on top of a cushion and start to swaddle them.

"Where's the bottle?", you ask.

He goes to get it and the little one is still making noises as you try to sooth them, so you pick them up and start to rock them.

Your husband returns with the bottle and gives it to you.

Taking the bottle, you bring it towards the baby and tap the nipple on their lips. It doesn't take long for them to start feeding.

"What's in the bottle?", you ask, going to looking over your shoulder but find him next to you.

"Blood.", is all he says.

All you do is sigh. "At least I can get that whenever I get mine.", you say.

Looking back to the baby, you smile and give your husband a peck on the cheek. "Thank you love."

Alastor holds you from behind and rests his chin on your shoulder, looking at the little one. They have his hair, red at the top before going into black at the bottom.

"I wonder if they'll have your eyes.", he says.

You hum, pulling the bottle back when realizing the baby started to turn away from it. Getting a rag, you put it over your unoccupied shoulder, putting the baby to a burping position.

"Have you taken care of children before?", your husband asks.

"Once, a long time ago.", you say while patting the baby's back. "My mother loved children and I had to help take care of my younger siblings."

The baby burps up some of their food and you use the rag to wipe their mouth clean.

"No wonder, you're quite a natural at it.", the Radio Demon mumbles.

"Want to hold them?", you ask and hold the baby properly again.

"I-I can hold them?", he asks.

As you turn to face him, the man in red lets you go and takes a small step back, looking between you and the small child.

"I'll teach you.", you smile. "Hold out your arms."

Slowly putting the baby in his arms, you adjust him a bit so the baby and him are comfortable. Smiling when you notice that he's looking at the little demon in awe.

"They are so tiny.", he whispers.

The baby yawns and both of you coo at them.

"Let's get them to their bed.", you say and both of you walk over to the bedroom.

Alastor had snapped some furniture into existence and it was in your shared bedroom, the crib being next to the bed just in case.

The Radio Demon carefully puts the baby down into the crib and both of you look at them for a bit. Taking in that you now have a baby together, and done in your own way.

"Must we be quiet so they don't wake up?", he asks in a whisper.

"Only a little.", you say and go over to the radio, putting the volume up just a bit and changing the station to soft jazz. "We can leave music on for them."

He hums and goes over to you, pulling you into a slow dance.

"Love, I'm covered in blood.", you say.

"That's never stopped me before.", he gives you a knowing smile. "We'll clean up in a bit but first I want to enjoy this."

Both of you continue to dance until the house started to smell a little too much like blood.

*is in hiding*

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@ducky-died-inside @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @scary-noodlesblog @kiraisastay

ML for Alastor🎙

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asewingthing · 2 months

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Sizing up a hoodie or sweatshirt

I had an old hoodie I wanted to wear more often, but it's always been a little snug (the price you pay when the merch table at a show has limited sizes remaining but you HAVE TO GET A SOUVENIR - and also support the band). I realized I had another hoodie I didn't wear very much, and decided to sacrifice it to size up the other!

The black stripe is the sacrificial hoodie bit, which overall made the original hoodie about 6 in larger all around (3 in strip added under each arm). Keep in mind, this method makes the torso larger, but also the sleeve size. I bet that's helpful to most people, but if you wanted to not size up the sleeve so much, you could probably cut your strip so it's narrower as it goes down the sleeve. But not to a fine point! Just a little narrower on one end than the other. You still need to have room to use your serger on both seams.

I looked up tips for adding a gusset under the arm. It was not an ideal solution; I ran into a pet peeve in my searching. When folks yadda-yadda over the fiddliest bit of the process. No! Please tell me how exactly you pivot around a point with a stretch stitch and then serge the rest of a seam!! I was not about to try to figure that out with no clear tips.

So, I decided to approach it with the skills and tools I was most confident using (not confident in my ability to use the right kind of stretch stitch around a corner at an armpit seam. I knew it would fall apart!).

NOTE: I used a serger for the entire process. I opt to use an embroidery needle or similar to pull the tail back up into a few stitches rather than try to sew over the tail ends. It's not as quick but I know it works and I have more control. I'm not going to cut into something by accident either!

ANOTHER NOTE: You HAVE TO use 2 sweatshirts or hoodies that are the same length from the pit to the BOTTOM HEM. If the length from the pit to the arm cuff hem is somewhat off, that's okay. When you're done, you could always cut off the cuffs and serge on a new one. But you can't so easily do that on the bottom hem on a hoodie with a zipper.

See how the cuff is misaligned here. I could cut off the cuff just above the grey seam and serge on a new strip of ribbed knit if I wanted it to look cleaner. But this was close enough, and also who wants to chop off its character? Someone who's probably no fun at parties, but probably better than me at filing their taxes, that's who.

HOW I DID IT

I essentially added a strip from one hoodie into the under arm/side of the other. If you're wanting to be precise, you can measure how much extra room you want to add, divide by 2 and that's how much you'll harvest from your sacrificial hoodie. The serging will eat some from each seam; consider how much you are comfortable serging off and add that math in for yourself. This one was about 3" wide on each side, as I feel comfortable to serge with taking off just a whisper.

I used a marking tool and a ruler to mark a consistent 3" wide cutting line from hem to cuff on the black hoodie. You'll be cutting a straight strip so don't eyeball it! If you're making it a little smaller at one end than the other, an even better reason not to eyeball it!

You can only remove up to where you come in contact with a pocket, zipper, or other component. Pick up a hoodie and look under the arms and you'll see what I mean! Here's as far as I cut due to the location of the pocket on the black hoodie:

Here's what that black hoodie looked like after I cut out the strips. Daniel was quite amused by it looking like a pelt and/or some kind of punk wizard's cape:

Mark which strip is meant for which side before you move on, so you don't get frustrated later! THIS IS IMPORTANT!

Next, you have to cut open the hoodie that will be gaining these strips. At first, I was carefully seam ripping the side seams but that is SILLY! Don't do that. Just cut it, your serger will be removing any old seam bits.

Right sides together, pin your strips in place. IMPORTANT! Make sure you're using the correct side of the old hoodie to the new one! R with R, L with L.

IMPORTANT ALSO!! Make sure the underarm pit seam intersection is aligned! Start pinning from there, and work your pinning out. AGAIN! the length from this pit junction to the bottom hem should be almost exactly the same or this will give you a headache.

(Pay attention to your pits, to avoid getting down in the dumps.)

Time to serge! You can squinch and fudge the seams a little as you serge to make them line up a little better. Just don't pull or yank on them much, or your knits will be forever wonky.

Here's what it looks like on the inside:

I hope this is helpful to others and you get more wears from things you love! If you need to find a hoodie or sweatshirt to sacrifice, hit up a thrift store. Just be sure to bring your hoodie with you as you shop, so you get one that is almost exactly the same length from hem to hem.

#sewing #hoodie #hacks #mending #serging

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wilted3sunflowers · 8 months

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White Pearl: SOLD Is she just as perfect as all of white's court is supposed to be?

Pink Pearl: Sold Is that smile innocent or malicious?

Blue Pearl: SOLD Professional and Elegant.

Yellow pearl: Sold A radiant Pearl but maybe she shines too bright. First come first serve I take payment over paypal

Design Notes: Obviously these pearls are all based to be one under each court and some leaning in for the court type more than others. I wanted them all to feature the same pattern a you can see on the main article of clothing. For Pink Pearl she's obviously modeled after a flower and a jester much how pink diamond herself was. I even took her to lean into a more devious and malicious side similar to eyeball and past pink diamond's actions could be. even her arms could be read as small stalks and little pollen balls from an upside down flower. The legwarmers helped stop with the full blank space on the bottom half and she gets to be the only one with a separate patterned article instead of just a bulk piece of cloth. Also another thing to note is the midrise bottoms she wears to also match with white pearl's high rise pants.

White Pearl was the first on designed for her silhouette and the hardest part being figuring out her hair- that which ended up being shaped after i got the other pearls designs down further so she ended up with two buns as a compliment to blue having one bun. Last minute in the designing process I added White to have sunglasses both for the nod to 'cool white diamond' court but also to contrast the 'brilliant shine' of yellow as if she's the sun so that those two can mirror while pink and blue have cheek details together

Originally blue pearl was not going to have a cold shoulder open much less a bow in the back. However it got trimmed down so that there will be more visual similarities to White Pearl's cold shoulder and a bow in the back like almost faux shoulder pads in a silhouette look. In the end she kind of ended up looking the most different than what I originally intended for her. Yellow Pearl is the only one of the four to have technically three different patterns going on for her. One the main pattern of course, then three stripes on her shirt and then a lattice of the combined pant and boots of a gradient. Showing she wants a lot, and likely is doing too much. Fitting a bit well into the militaristic but still seeming like a too ornate look, she has metal cuffs- there small blunt spikes and also on the back of her heels instead of long and sharper more piercing type of spikes. No matter what though, she carries the signia of the diamonds intensely. Another thing to note is how blue pearl has a mini dress and that yellow pearl has low rise pants that both almost line up in where they stop

#steven universe #fan pearl #fangem #my art #adopt

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cinemacouture · 8 months

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A Clockwork Orange (1971, dir. Stanley Kubrick) had Milena Canonero as costume designer in her first gig; the movie also was very low-budget (almost all of it was shot on location rather than in sets), so most of the costumes are off-the rack except for some of Alex's fantasy sequences where I'm sure it's reused period stock.

Canonero's Droog costumes however remains one of the most iconic costume designs in film history; the combination of underclothes, suspenders, old-fashioned hats and cricket codpieces. The asymmetrical makeup calls to mind tribal warriors but also adds a little androgyny (despite them all being vicious misogynists). The final touch is gore prosthetic decorations, such as the eyeballs on Alex's cuffs, that feel like a forerunner to punk fashion. This kind of DIY costume design was also done to excellent effect by Bobbie Mannix on The Warriors and Norma Moriceau on Mad Max 2.

There's some other nasty 'Droog' gangs too; one of the torture sequences (more harrowing cos Kubrick was being a sociopath again and had Malcolm McDowell's eyes being scratched for real) has some other Droogs in different hats, whilst Alex's nemesis 'Billyboy' (played by Richard Connaught) wears a very different kind of Droog uniform; consisting of leather overalls, military wear (especially WWII German military), and clashing colourful frilly shirts.

McDowell also gets to wear a fantastic purple suede and snakeskin jacket - prop sites say it was designed by Canonero, but the first comment on this Propstoreauction youtube video says something different 'I actually sold this coat to Malcolm around september 1970 in Kensington market in London , it is a plum suede and python trim coat designed and made by a young Yugoslavian guy and bought from our stock. the film’s costume designer had no imput. Malcolm chose it. Priced at £120 in 1970, it was the most expensive item in the market'. Interesting - given it only appears in one brief scene, it would make sense that it was bought. He also gets to wear a red and white nightgown that presumably was also off the rack.

As for the rest of the film's outfits? They all scream '1971' and were presumably off the rack. though almost all the women have had their hair dyed in garish colours. I love the red outfits worn by Sheila Raynor as Alex's mother, as well as the vinyl-lined red jumper worn by the unnamed lodger. Also the multicoloured dress worn by the psychiatrist, and the red jumpsuit worn by one of Alex's victims. Also the Milk Bar security who wear spandex unitards with studded belts, for some reason?

There's a couple of fantasy sequences that Alex indulges in, that I'm mostly including so that someone can hopefully indentify which film their costumes are from - he briefly has a fantasy of being a Roman soldier torturing Jesus, as well as being an ancient noble. Then he has one as a soldier in Old Testament battles; again, I highly doubt these were made for the film given the very low budget and the briefness of these fantasy sequences (clips from other movies were used in these fantasy sequences after all), but I did notice the helmets worn by his warriors were familiar - because they had been reused by costume designer James Acheson in the Doctor Who serial 'The Mutants' a year later!

#a clockwork orange #clockwork orange #stanley kubrick #1971 #alex delarge #billyboy #malcolm mcdowell #richard connaught #sheila raynor #dystopia #scifi #science fiction #droogs

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familyvideostevie · 10 months

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hiiii:))) i’d like to request: SEASHELL: let's look for beautiful things on the beach! send me a line from a book, song, or movie/tv show and a character

“i’d trade all I’ve got in my name for you instead of this pain” (from give me a minute by (my gf) lizzy mcalpine) x either steve, remus or james you’re free to decide<3<3

thank you so much for blessing my eyeballs with your writing<3

thank you so much! this lyric is quite sad, as the song is about a breakup, but i've tried to make this end happy because i can't leave it at angst lol. so here's resolving a fight with james!

You aren't going to cry. You chant this to yourself silently because if you cry then it will all be over and James will hug you and say you can talk about it later but you need to talk about it now.

"I think it's true," you say. You clutch the cuffs of your -- his -- sweatshirt and cross your arms. "I haven't been there for her. And you don't spend time with your friends like you used to."

James takes off his glasses and runs a hand down his face. He's standing on the other side of his kitchen island. "But we do see them. A lot, and you know it. Your friends, too."

The night started out nicely. You'd been out to dinner with some friends of yours you haven't seen in a bit. But once you got there, eager to catch up and show them how happy you are, you realized it was an intervention. They wanted to tell you -- kindly, from a place of love -- that you've disappeared into your relationship and they don't feel like you're accessible to them, no matter how much they like James and how good he is to you.

It took you coming back to his apartment and finding him on the couch for you to sort it out, but you think you agree with them. You really do spend all of your time with James -- which isn't a bad thing, not necessarily. You two are just a bit wrapped up in each other, and it's made you into a girl you swore you'd never be: a bad friend at the expense of your own relationship.

"That's not the point, James," you sigh. This is going to sound cruel no matter how you spin it and he'll be hurt, but it needs to be said. "We spend too much time together. We've created our own world and we need to...go outside sometimes."

As you predicted, he looks as though you've punched him. "Less time?" he croaks. "You want to spend less time together? You can see how that's not what a bloke wants to hear, right?"

"The boys clearly haven't said the same thing to you --"

"No, they bloody well have not!" He shouts. You shrink back a little but he doesn't notice, too caught up in his own hurt for the moment. "Because they know I'm happy when I'm with you. I don't understand why you can't see that I'd give everything else up if it meant I could be with you."

You take a steadying breath. "Don't yell, please," you say, as calmly as you can. He looks sorry immedietly, but you keep going. "And while that's lovely and romantic, it's not realistic, and I don't expect that of you. I want us both to have lives. We need that, outside of this. It only makes this more special."

He sits down heavily at the kitchen counter. "I'm -- fuck." He tips his head back, black curls a riot as always, and exhales sharply. "Could you come here, please?"

You cross the kitchen and stand in front of him. He gently reaches for your hands, uncrossing your arms and twining your fingers together as he looks you in the eye.

"I'm sorry for yelling," he says, softly. "I'm not mad at you. I think I'm mad that...you're right?" He sucks on his teeth. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me and I think that if I stop holding on so tight you'll disappear."

It makes sense. You feel the same, but you know it's not true. "But I won't," you tell him. He nods.

"I know," he agrees. "I know. I do. And I think this is worth discussing more so we can figure out how to deal with it. But you look like you're going to cry and I can't stand that I've done it --"

"I was just a bit overwhelmed --"

"So I'd like to spoon, please," he continues over you. "Is that alright?" You step fully into his space and flop against him, your arms tangled between you.

"That's fine with me," you mumble into his collar. You'll figure this out -- you always do.

join the celebration!

#fvsbeachday #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter angst #james potter fanfiction #marauders fanfiction

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voraciousvore · 1 month

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Giganterra (Chapter 6)

Prologue/ TOC | Previous (5) | Next (7)

Word Count: 3.1k words

Content Warning: Vore mentions (no actual vore)

------ Chapter 6: Convergence ------

Tanya was tired of living in an underground dungeon. Her filthy, cramped cell consisted of three stone walls without windows, a hard floor, and a door of thick iron bars. Holes in the ceiling, interspersed at regular intervals, permitted weak beams of light to filter through the darkness, but they were poor substitutes for the sun. Her bed was a thin strip of stained, smelly padding with an unwashed blanket. The only other furnishing in the small space was a chamber pot for relieving herself, which was occasionally changed out but not as frequently as she would have preferred.

The days blended together endlessly, the passage of time marked only by the flicker of dim light overhead and the arrival of bland meals with precise regularity by indifferent, faceless prison guards. She was fed lumpy oatmeal for breakfast, and withered vegetables with hard bread for lunch and dinner. The water she was given was cloudy, with a hard mineral taste. Needless to say, Tanya didn’t have much of an appetite.

In the subterranean space, sounds traveled far, bouncing off the walls until they warped into an unrecognizable state, like the distant, tortured moans of ghosts. She felt lost and forgotten. She hadn’t been trapped in the forlorn depths for long, but she felt like her sanity was gradually sapping away with the isolation and emptiness. The lack of stimulation was not only boring but draining, as her troubled thoughts skittered around in her brain like roaches and ate away at her conscious mind like a corrosive acid.

This punishment seemed excessive for just stealing food. Tanya had been hungry, and a little desperate, and she couldn’t resist the sweet cakes on display in the central plaza that she had no money to buy. She had been caught, of course. Minimaterra dealt with lawbreakers harshly, to prevent the small and insulated country from being overrun with crime. Tanya observed that the legal system seemed to punish women worse, though she didn’t comprehend the calculated reasoning behind this odd structural inequity.

She was dozing on her mattress, huddled up in her blanket to stave off the damp cold, when she heard the echo of footsteps reverberating down the corridor lined with cells. To her surprise, two burly guards silhouetted by the dim light stopped at her cell. Keys clinked together and scraped in the lock, and the bars were pulled open with a grinding squeal. The men invaded her cell and ripped the blanket off. Tanya was hoisted to her feet, still half-awake, handcuffed, and dragged away. Her legs, out of shape from her confinement, were unsteady beneath her as she stumbled along and struggled to keep pace with the men.

“What’s going on? Where are you taking me?” she mumbled sleepily, with no response. The men hauled her up a narrow set of stairs by the thick iron cuffs on her wrists as she clumsily followed. When they opened the door at the top, she was blinded by daylight brighter than she had seen in weeks. The light shot into her skull and eyeballs with a searing pain, and she was forced to squeeze her eyes shut for several minutes while her body adjusted to the stark change. She was thrown into a carriage and transported to another location, unable to see the whole way as her eyes adjusted to normal sun.

She was marched indoors, still squinting with discomfort. Without any explanation, she was swarmed by maids who stripped her down and washed her. Her hair was cut and styled, her nails filed, and her face groomed and powdered. She was dolled up in a very flattering dress with ostentatious lace, ribbons, ruffles, jewels, and other flourishes. Tanya was highly disoriented and confused. She didn’t understand what was going on, but she held out hope that maybe she was being pardoned and released. Even so, she couldn’t help but notice that the prison guards never left her side, even after she was unchained.

She was led by the guards through a long and very fancy hallway, the likes of which she had never seen before. As she passed by rooms fit for a mansion, she spotted a room full of beautiful ladies dressed just like her, like nobility, along with a handsome gentleman. She was led into a different room, however, that contained another comely man with spectacles flanked by more guards. She was seated next to the man, who was also neatly groomed and dressed in an outfit worthy of a rich noble.

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a long time. Nothing happened and Tanya started to get antsy. Keeping her voice low, she finally whispered to the man, “Are you a convict too?”

He hesitated, before answering, “Yes. I’m Graham, by the way.”

“My name is Tanya. Do you have any clue why we’re here?”

“No. They dragged me out of my cell and brought me here.” Graham glanced over at her through his peripheral vision, not wanting to make any sudden moves with the guards watching them. “Do you?”

Tanya gave a small shake of her head. “Do you think... they’re letting us go?”

“I don’t know. I hope so. It’s nice... to be cleaned up and given proper clothes. I feel human again.” He stroked his chin, which felt wonderfully smooth after being shaved. While languishing in a cell, he’d grown a scraggly, untamed beard that he despised. He was relieved to feel—and smell—like a refined gentleman again, after living like a feral animal in a dank dungeon.

The prisoners lapsed back into silence after one of the guards shot them a hostile glare. Tanya was hopeful, but a primitive instinct within her was ringing alarm bells. She sensed something was very off about this whole abnormal situation. If they were to be released, why would the guards still be watching them? Why were they dressed and groomed in such a manner, with such elaborate clothing above her lowly station? Nothing made sense. She was on pins and needles the whole time as she waited—for what, she had no idea. She considered bolting while she had the chance, but swiftly discarded the notion as foolish. She likely wouldn’t make it far with four guards chasing her, and if they really were going to let her go, she ought to be on her best behavior.

The two convicts were kept separate from the others, so they wouldn’t learn the truth and raise a fuss. The day that would permanently change their lives had come. All the tributes were prepared for inspection, dolled up to look their finest. The humans could only hope that their offerings would pass the taste test. Now they just had to wait for the giants to arrive.

Back in Giganterra, the giants prepared for their second expedition to the human lands. As Sir Maneater saddled up his horse, he noticed that Joey was dragging his feet. In fact, Joey hadn’t even touched his riding equipment. He had a hollow, dead look in his chocolate eyes, so different from their usual eager brightness and warmth.

Martin, sensing an impending crisis, understood he needed to intervene. He took the young man aside, behind the horse stables, and sat him down on an old tree stump. “What’s going on, Joey? Talk to me.”

Joey sighed heavily, averting his gaze down to his hands. “I... I don’t want to be a knight anymore.”

Martin raised a brow. “Joey... you can’t mean that! I’ve seen how hard you’ve worked for this. You’ve trained for years! Why would you throw away all that progress now, when you’ve been pushing so hard toward this singular goal?”

Joey slumped down. His face twisted up as if he were struggling not to cry. “You know, I used to admire knights. I idealized them for their strength of spirit and body, their discipline, their chivalry, their honor, and their vows to protect and serve. I wanted to be like you, Sir Maneater. But now...”

He let out a shuddering breath, running his hands through his messy brown hair and tugging on his scalp. Glancing around to ensure nobody else was listening, he dropped his voice and continued to speak. “Now... all I see in my future is serving a cruel and evil master. I can’t stomach the idea of becoming the king’s right hand, to enforce his iron will upon the weak. The thought sickens me and turns my stomach. I can’t look at knighthood the same way anymore. I want nothing to do with the despicable orders of the king.”

“Joey...” Sir Maneater leaned in and placed a kind hand on his squire’s shoulder. “I understand how you feel, I really do. You think I’ve never felt lost, or had doubts?” He gave his squire a gentle smile. “Of course I have. But you must understand, Joey... if you want to make a difference in this world, you must first make something of yourself. You can give up on your dream, but what good would that do? You’d be powerless to change anything, without a title or influence. Lost without a sense of direction. If you really want to stop evil, you must give yourself the tools to conquer it. You understand?”

“I guess,” Joey answered noncommittally, twitching his shoulders.

“The humans will be presented to the king whether you participate or not. Just come with us. Be alert to your surroundings. You never know when an opportunity may present itself,” Sir Maneater pressed. Joey reluctantly agreed and joined his mentor back in the stable to finish loading up the horses with their gear and supplies. He fought his revulsion as he saw the knight strap in a cage about the size of a shoebox, complete with human-sized seats lining the interior.

Besides Leon, another giant named Chester was accompanying the party. Chester held a special position at court, for he was an individual with a unique talent. He was the royal food tester, distinguished by his extraordinary senses. His sensitive nose could detect the smallest quantity of poison in any food or drink, so he could keep the royal family safe. He could track a runaway human by scent, like a bloodhound. His palate was highly refined as well, so the king trusted his taste buds to select only the best foods. He sent Chester to sample the new humans and provide quality control. The gluttonous gourmand loved to eat humans, so he was more than happy to oblige.

Chester was in a merry mood, in stark contrast to glum Joey, and to a lesser extent Martin and Leon, who were more hardened than the young squire to the unpleasant task that lay before them. As they neared the border crossing, Chester tilted his head back and inhaled deeply through his nose.

“Ahhhhh,” he sighed, savoring the fragrance like a batch of fresh-baked cookies. “They smell soooo good.” His brilliant green eyes lit up and he licked his lips ravenously. Joey glanced at the man with distaste but didn’t comment. The party of giant men left their horses with the guards after presenting the royal seal for entry and passed through the gate into the tiny world. Leon, wincing, brought the human carrier along with him. Chester panted with anticipation, his stomach audibly growling. Joey curled his lip.

“Are you... drooling?” he asked incredulously. Chester wiped off his lips on his sleeve and grinned shamelessly.

“Maybe,” he admitted. “Can you really blame me though? Can’t you smell all those distinct, delicious flavors?” Joey shook his head as he carefully stepped over a red barn that didn’t even reach his knee and tiptoed around a field of corn. “Ah, well, I certainly can, and goodness, I can hardly restrain myself!”

Chester, not paying attention to his feet, sloshed through a shallow pond, scattering miniscule ducks in all directions. His wet boots sank into the grassland intended for grazing nearby, tearing up the turf and ruining the land. The surrounding horses whinnied with fear and galloped away. He stepped on a dividing fence, cracking the wooden posts into splinters. He cocked a brow as he shot Joey a penetrating gaze. “Have you ever eaten a human before?”

“No! Absolutely not!” Joey answered sharply, offended by the mere suggestion. “And watch your step, for crying out loud!” He wasn’t some bloodthirsty, uncivilized beast like the wolf across from him. He looked down at the little houses far below. He had no doubt the miniature people inside were listening to their booming voices as they talked about eating humans. Joey, at that moment, was deeply ashamed to be a giant, in such disgraceful company.

“What a shame,” Chester remarked, ignoring Joey’s tone and warning. His boot stomped down inches from a humble house, quaking the earth and eliciting a shrill scream from within. “You’re missing out. Every human has their own flavor, you see. Luckily for me, since I’m the royal food taster, I get the privilege of tasting every single human that comes to Giganterra.”

Joey was flooded with indignation as he opened his mouth to argue with Chester. However, a small shake of the head from Sir Maneater sealed his lips. He bit back a snippy retort with some difficulty. Chester was an important personage at court, not the sort of man anyone would want to make an enemy out of. Though the knight didn’t enunciate any seditious thoughts out loud, he did not wish for Joey to pick a fight with the one man who singlehandedly prevented the king from being poisoned.

Chester continued to prattle on about all the different flavors that humans came in, indifferent to the looks of horror he received from the wee denizens at his feet. Joey pulled with discomfort at his hair and collar, as if trying to hide his huge face from humiliation as he was forced to listen. He struggled to keep his mouth shut as Chester related a mildly lewd anecdote about a lady that tasted exactly like a cream puff. The embarrassed squire attempted to steer the conversation in a different direction, but Chester had a one-track mind, especially with the strong scent of humans pervading the air.

“I’m interested in tasting a few men this time around,” Chester rambled, droplets of drool sliding down his chin. His salivary glands were going haywire with how voracious he was. “I’ve only sampled women up to this point, since King Richard usually only requests female specimens. I wonder if the human men taste the same as their women? I’ve heard rumors that women are generally sweeter, while men are more savory, but I don’t know if it’s true. What do you think, Joey?”

“I... I don’t know,” Joey mumbled, pushing his glasses up his nose. Desperate to change the subject, he pointed off into the distance. “Hey look, there’s the castle!”

The four massive giants, now that they were entering the city, had to walk in single file through the central roadway to avoid knocking over any buildings. Even Chester was cautious as the space became narrower and more cramped for their enormous feet. Mercifully, the extra attentiveness that his surroundings commanded prevented him from talking too much. Even so, as his eyes diverted to his feet, he ogled the little people like a starving man at a buffet, as if he was tempted to snatch them up and shovel them into his slavering maw. Flecks of slobber rained down from his mouth onto the rooftops and streets, to the disgust of the people down below.

The small humans with their carts and horses scampered out the way, but Leon still managed to accidentally smash the stall of a fruit vendor underfoot, turning his wares into mush. “Ah! no!” the merchant cried as he watched his livelihood get pulverized, running out a few steps into the open street before realizing his grave error in revealing himself. He halted, face white with fear.

Leon bent over, engulfing the man in shadow. “Oh my goodness, I’m terribly sorry! I didn’t mean to do that, it was an accident!” he apologized profusely. The merchant, as upset as he was about losing his entire stock, was too terrified to even engage in conversation with the intimidating giant. Leon recognized, as he continued to blabber on, he was getting nowhere with his words as the merchant merely stood in place, quivering uncontrollably. After a moment of contemplation, he fetched some silver coins from his pocket and carefully stacked them in front of the merchant. The human gawked in amazement at the shiny treasures, which were trivial pocket change to a wealthy giant but worth a fortune to the tiny human, more than all the fruit and his stall combined. The coins were several feet in diameter, a few inches thick, and likely too heavy for the merchant to even lift on his own.

“Here, I hope this will be enough to cover your losses,” Leon said, running his hand nervously through his gray-flecked hair.

The merchant nodded, almost imperceptibly. “Y-yes, sir, that will cover it,” he squeaked timidly. Leon acknowledged his response and straightened back up to his full height. The giants continued on to the central plaza, with Leon leaving behind a giant footprint lined with fruit juice, while the merchant stared in disbelief at the huge silver coins that constituted a life-changing sum of cash.

When they arrived at the palace courtyard, it quickly became apparent that four giants would be one too many to comfortably fit within the walls of the open space without trampling the garden, statues, or fountain.

“Joey, why don’t you wait for us outside?” Sir Maneater suggested. Joey nodded and stepped back respectfully. He waited awkwardly in the market square of the human city, the only location wide enough for him to stand comfortably without having to contort his legs or crunch his feet together.

Joey surveyed the area around his feet, looking down at the miniscule stalls and buildings and people. He hadn’t felt quite so bad when he was moving around, but now that he was standing in place with nothing to do, social anxiety started to creep in. So many tiny people were staring up at him, gawking at him, glaring, whispering and gossiping about him amongst themselves. He hated to be the center of attention, to add on to his deluge of guilt, but such a circumstance was unavoidable when he was a monument, towering over everyone and everything. His face flushed bashfully, and he fiddled with his glasses to mitigate his discomfort. When he wasn’t able to tolerate the feeling any longer, he lumbered off, determined to find a secluded spot in the countryside where he could sit, rest his legs, and wait for the others.

Chapter 7

#giant #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #tiny #giant tiny #size difference #g/t story #vore story #vore writing #g/t vore #gt vore #gt writing #gianttiny #giant men #gt story #extreme size difference #giants #gentle giant

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visions--of--collisions · 5 months

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EXCERPT: but you're gonna need some help (outta those) [spiderverse, hobie brown/miles morales, rated e: pink suit-inspired pwp]

Miles’ arm moves against his ribs, and the both of them gasp a bit at the space that appears between them when he retracts his web. It pulls Hobie out most of the way, but he grits his teeth against the sensitivity as it sets in, coaxing Miles to tighten his arms and legs around him. He crawls backwards slowly until he can feel the floor with his toes, unsticks from the wall, and promptly slumps to the ground. ‘Hobes!’ Miles yelps, startled, still kind of breathless, and then: ‘Hobie …’ More of a complaint, this time, but Hobie can hear the lightness and he capitalises on it, twisting and tipping forward until Miles is on his back under him with Hobie’s clinging arms pinned between him and the floor. ‘Man …’

The laugh creaks out of Hobie, rusty like a hinge, and he plants a sucking kiss on the soft skin below Miles’ ear before propping himself up on his forearms. Miles is still kind of in his lap, legs spread around Hobie’s hips, but he looks up at Hobie like he’s not the one who’s pinned. Hobie flutters his eyelashes at him, grinning stupidly. Miles groans; he scrubs at his eyes and stretches, blinking down at himself. He makes a face. It’s a goddamn mess between them, right from where their cocks lie softening to the collar of Miles’ rucked-up sweatshirt. The less said about the situation around their thighs, the better.

He lifts up the hem, mouth pursed. Miles pauses when Hobie’s eyes track the movement; he shoots him a disbelieving look. ‘You know I’m gonna be wearing this every day, right?’ he points out.

‘Fine by me,’ Hobie growls, with only slightly exaggerated interest. Miles groans again, wrestling with the hem, and Hobie laughs as he helps him work it up and off over his head. ‘Ay, shush. We can call it exposure therapy, yeah?’ One corner of his mouth twitches higher than the other when Miles gives him a hairy eyeball as he rolls the sweatshirt down his arms and tosses it aside. Hobie gives him a minute to take stock in peace, very tactfully ignoring the dampness smeared across his chest, keeping any observations about how good or not a look that’s just gloves and web shooters may be to himself.

The crease in Miles’ forehead is a less welcome sight, all told. ‘You good?’

Miles blinks. He looks at Hobie’s face and leaves off his fumbling with the clasp of his web shooter to smooth a hand down his shoulder, kissing his teeth around a smile. ‘Yeah, I’m good! I’m great,’ he adds, huffing with quiet laughter. Hobie tilts his head at him, mostly convinced, and Miles goes back to undoing the clasp. He leaves the cuff off to the side and flexes his gloved fingers thoughtfully. ‘I dunno, I just - I can’t figure out if I want these shorter or not.’

‘Is it?’ Hobie frowns and carefully extracts his arms to reach for Miles’ other hand. The clinging fabric has mostly stayed in place despite the tension Miles’ web must have put on it, but he smooths it out anyways, considering. ‘Looks pretty good as is, from here,’ he offers. The callus on his thumb catches on the fastening of Miles’ web shooter when he unthinkingly strokes the underside of his wrist.

Miles hums as he watches Hobie take it off and lay it beside the other. He’s visibly conflicted. ‘It’ll mess with the line of the suit,’ he points out.

‘Could make ‘em a feature,’ Hobie suggests. He narrows his eyes, trying to picture how that might look with a Miles-specific twist. It’s been a minute since he’s used his spraypaint signature, outside of the Spider symbol …

Miles’ eyebrows arch toward his hairline at that. ‘Well …’ When Hobie looks at him curiously, he gnaws on his lip before continuing: ‘Margo had this idea, for like - a short-sleeved suit. Since, I mean, I’ll be wearing the sweater overtop anyways, so it’s not like anyone’s gonna know until I lose it. And that’ll be pretty tricky with the way the cuff’s elasticated around …’

Hobie perks up. ‘Oh, you mean your sweater paws?’

There’s a faint thunk as Miles drops his head to the floor. He immediately looks so put upon that Hobie knows it’s not the first time he’s heard this. ‘You don’t - that’s not … I can’t …’

He props his cheek on his fist. ‘Damn, Mags already beat me to it? That’s humiliating.’

Miles knocks him in the side with his leg. ‘Yeah, you should feel bad. Derivative,’ he accuses. ‘Inauthentic. Ain’t a drop of originality between you.’

‘Alright now …’

Miles opens his mouth, but he looks at Hobie’s bemused face and immediately seems to run out of steam. He sighs gustily, instead. ‘She won’t change the filename back,’ he complains. ‘Ugh. Lemme up.’

[TO BE CONTINUED]

#fanfic #spiderverse #punkflower #ON IT BOSS #this is post-orgasm number three fyi. i'm dithering over a fourth #10th anniversary suit #asks and things #inspo #🎸🌻

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