#I can cut in with a brush and get a room painted in hours

[undeadhousewife]

Sometimes I feel I'm skill-less but then I look at my bedroom wall where a second door used to be, where we removed it and I realize how absolutely seamless it is. My fucking reno work is amazing. I can sling dry wall and plaster, I can paint entire rooms with out tape or drop cloth.

[koolaidoverliving]

i've never written an "x reader" fic before, so i wanted to experiment. take this as you will.

NSFW UNDER CUT. MINORS DNI

A FAMILIAR FACE

✦ Jeff the Killer / Reader ✦

CW: Explicit Sexual Content, Dub-Con Elements, But The Sex Is Consensual, Knife Threat, Degradation, No Plot, Like Seriously It's Just Jeff Fucking You Into A Mattress, Gender Neutral Reader

Words: 2.5k

You're waiting for a close friend at a dingy motel out of state. But instead of your friend, you're met with the town's most infamous serial killer.

Your hands fidget restlessly between your thighs. It's been five hours since you arrived at your room — five hours and your best friend is still not here. Of course, they left later than you did, and you can't expect them to be a fast driver. But any sort of notice would do a great deal of help to you right now. You're growing impatient, tapping your foot on the ground and repeatedly checking your phone.

The motel room, with its queen–sized bed and single box TV, provides you no comfort. Without a proper job, this room is all you could afford to get. You're paranoid; you can hear it in the way your heart thumps faster than the ticking of the analogue clock; and the inconsistent buzzing of the fan doesn't do anything to tranquilise your anxiety. The walls, cheaply painted and stained, seem as if they're closing in on you. And they might just be. To make it worse, there's stray dogs outside, and they're barking at the crescendo of police sirens.

With a groan, you fall back onto the bed. You stare up at the ceiling, the pattern of spirals reminiscent of your spiraling thoughts. Did your best friend ditch you? Leave you for someone else again? While you're miles away from home? The questions run through your head and you're unable to stop them. You need someone — anyone by your side to hold your hand and tell you you're not alone.

But all you get is ticking.

Buzzing.

Barking.

And wailing.

...Until there's a knock.

A loud knock — no, a set of desperate knocks at the door. Your heart beats at a million miles per hour, a positive rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

They're here.

"Finally," you say with a smile of relief. You spring up from the bed and hurry to the door. Your sweaty hands fumble with the doorknob. Once it's unlocked, you open it without a second thought.

However, as soon as the door swings open, your face plummets. What stands at the door looks nothing like your best friend. It's a broad man, hooded and stained with what you can only assume is blood.

Before you're able to say something, the stranger brushes past you and enters the room. He closes the door — gently to not make any noise. You open your mouth to shout, but he grabs your body and pulls you back against his chest. His hand clamps over your mouth.

You desperately thrash your arms, your cries of rebuttal muffled behind his hand. But he only tightens his grip on you. "Shhh, shhh..." the man whispers. He reaches out to lock the door. "Stay quiet for just a fucking second."

Though reluctant, you obey him, because you didn't know what he'd do if you didn't. Your muscles tense up. You're pressed so firmly against this man's chest, it almost hurts.

There's indistinguishable chatter outside the room. A cacophony of loud voices. You can't tell what's happening. Not until loud footsteps approach your room. The doorknob rattles. Your body jolts, and you almost yelp, but the stranger's palm is pushing hard against your mouth. You hear another man's voice soon after, much clearer since they're right at the door: "No one's here either."

What — were these men on some weird cat and mouse chase? You can't believe you're being roped into their shenanigans.

Before you know it, the footsteps fade into the distance. The stranger's grip on your body loosens and you use that opportunity to push away from him. "Who the hell are you?" you say breathlessly. "You can't just — You can't just come into someone's room like that — Ugh!" You stop to catch your breath.

"Calm down. I just needed somewhere to hide. You're not special," the man replies. "This room is ugly as fuck too. What are you? Poor?"

"I'm not..." you trail off. No longer in his grasp, you're able to look at him. When you opened the door, his stained hoodie was all you could make out in the dim light, but now that he's in your room, you spot all his grisly features.

Pale leathery skin; blue eyes, wide open; dark shaggy hair, tangled underneath his hood; and worst of all — two grotesque lines carved into either side of his cheeks.

You let out a gasp. The man cocks his head to the side, surveying your reaction. You saw him when you got here. That same face was plastered on the news. And that knife, that knife in his hand —

"You're —" you swallow, "You're Jeffrey Woods..."

A crooked smile forms on the man's face. He gives a subtle nod, affirming your deduction. "Who else could be me?" he says with a boastful tone. "Don't freak out now. If you scream, I'll fucking kill you. This knife isn't just for show — got that?"

"...Yes."

"Good..." Jeff mumbles. "You know. Looking at you closer, you're a pretty little thing." The comment leaves your eyes widened. Your lips slightly part as Jeff leans down and places a hand on your cheek. He grabs your face rather harshly. "I was gonna leave — no, I was gonna kill you and then leave. But now," he laughs, "now I just wanna fuck you."

You aren't able to protest Jeff's advancements when his lips meet with yours in a chaste kiss. He's particularly chapped; there's a metallic taste where his skin is peeling. Yet, he's warm, and his tongue feels oddly nice wandering in your mouth.

Jeff pulls away, leaving your mouth terribly empty. "Yeah, yeah. Definitely a pretty one," he exhales. His breath is warm against your skin.

"Wh–What are you doing?" you stammer, eyebrows scrunching. Jeff rolls his eyes at your question.

"Are you stupid? I'm tasting what's mine now, idiot," Jeff replies.

"'Mine'? But I don't belong to you — I don't even know you."

"Pfsh, everyone knows me."

A cold, prickling metal grazes up your torso. Your skin shivers at the contact. You suck in your stomach, as if that gets you away from the feeling. It takes one downward glance to realise that Jeff is lifting up your shirt with his knife.

"Come on." Jeff's gaze meets yours — his dull eyes stare you down; his knife is still ghosting over your skin. "You want this?" he asks.

The question is abrupt. The sudden change of his tone causes you to shudder — or maybe it's the blade at your skin. You don't know how to respond. He's a serial killer. No, not just any serial killer — he's one of the most infamous in town. You've seen him on several news sites since you arrived, running from one street to the next. And now he's here asking you if you want him.

But you're alone. You're so alone, and that kiss you shared made you feel warm for the first time in ages. He's being kind to you, isn't he? He could kill you — choke you underneath him and plunge a knife into you. But he isn't doing that. He's asking you... if you want him.

It might be the fear, or maybe you're genuinely attracted to him... But either way, you give him a small nod.

"...Yeah. That's what I thought. You get all this, and I'm not even making you pay," Jeff chuckles. "Go on. Take off your clothes."

You're hesitant for a second, but you listen and pull your shirt over your head. You do the same with your shorts, pulling them down and over your feet. You fidget with your hands, staring up at him with a bashful look. Jeff eyes you up and down, that twisted smile permanent on his face. You grit your teeth. You're exposing your body to a serial killer. But it isn't that bad.

"Do — Do you want my name?" you ask. Your body flushes a deep red. You can feel the stickiness of sweat between your thighs.

Jeff scoffs. "No. Why would I want your name? You really think you're more than a random slut to me?" He steps closer to you; you step back in tandem. Your heel hits the frame of the bed. "I said I wanna fuck you, not date you."

He pushes you onto the bed. You watch as he unzips his jeans and discards his clothing the same as you did. Now it's your turn to look him up and down. He has a lean frame. You're shocked by how built it is — but now it makes sense why his chest felt like bricks. You can't avoid looking at his cock either. Jeff's cock is at your face level. It twitches in his hand, and it's one of the biggest you've seen. You're nervous now, more than ever, but it's a good kind of nervousness. Isn't it?

Your eyes flicker back to Jeff's face. He's grinning, revelling in how you check out his body. "You wanna take my dick, huh?" Jeff asks. He grabs a fistful of your hair, bringing your mouth close to the head of his cock. "I know sluts like you love sucking dick. So come on, suck me off."

His ego has no limits... You open your mouth and take in the head of his dick.

"There you fucking go," Jeff says with a satisfied groan.

He's warm and salty. You struggle to shimmy down the thickness of his cock, but you eventually build a good pace for yourself.

"Fuck..." Jeff mumbles. "It's too rare to find a nasty bitch like you out here." He thrusts his hips, pushing his cock in deeper. "Can't be too big for you, yeah? You've got a dirty little mouth, don't you?" His hand is firm in your hair and his grip only tightens when his cock reaches the back of your throat. You gag, still not adjusted to his size. But the vibrations of your gags and coughs only make Jeff hornier.

Your hands grab the bed sheets as Jeff takes control. He relentlessly thrusts into your mouth. You slobber over his length, drool now dripping from the sides of your mouth. You're nothing more than a cocksleeve to him. And god does it feel better than you expected. Your vision is blurry; your own wetness starts to overwhelm you.

Finally, Jeff pulls you off his cock. You gasp for air. "Mmh — J–Jeff —" you struggle to say. You pathetically pant like a wild dog.

"Awh, speak clearly, bitch. You're a fucking mess," Jeff taunts. "You liked that? You liked my cock in your mouth?"

The heat is rising to your cheeks. Your eyes are teary. You're so fucking shameless when you reply, "Yes... Yes, I did."

"Of course you fucking did." Jeff pushes you down on the bed. He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your underwear. You hold in a breath; he grins. Jeff pulls the garment off your legs, leaving you bare and exposed. "Wet just from sucking my dick. Holy shit, you're more of a whore than I thought."

You bite the inside of your cheek. His words burn into you.

Jeff crawls over your body. He's much larger than you; it makes you question if he'll even fit. He spits in his hand and gives his dick a few pumps before lining it up with your entrance. You brace yourself and spread your legs farther, giving him the room to inch closer. But before he pushes inside, he gives you another look, no longer smiling. Your eyes meeting his, you see a shift in the blue pools. "Tell me you want this," he says.

His serious tone sets you back to reality.

You don't even know him.

You shouldn't want this. You shouldn't let him inside you, or allow him to treat you like this, but your body is twitching with desire, and his skin feels so warm against yours. You haven't felt this way in so long. He's a serial killer, but he spared you...

"...I do. I want this," you reply, voice sounding more needy than you intended. "Please. I want this, J–Jeff."

He doesn't say anything.

But then you feel it: his entire length slams into you. You cry out a quivering moan; your back arches against his hips. Jeff pins your wrists against the mattress. "God damn..." he groans. "You're so tight. Like a fucking virgin..."

Jeff leans down and presses wet kisses against your neck. The sloppiness makes you want to cringe, but his unrelenting thrusts send jolts of pleasure surging through your body.

"Dirty slut, letting a complete — f–ffuck...! — letting a complete str–stranger use you like this," Jeff growls. He bites down on your neck; you can't suppress your humiliating moans.

He's covering you with marks and bruises, growing harder each time you wince and tense up. You can't complain as his cock hits all the right spots.

"I could kill y–you so fucking easily." He gives a harsh thrust. "But I bet you'd like that."

"Nnh — Y–Yes...!" you reply, not sure if you're agreeing with him, or referencing the sex. "Mmore — fuck me more!"

"What's it look like I'm doing, dumbass..." He lets go of your small wrists — which are now red from his tight grip — and grabs onto your shoulders.

His nails dig into your skin. He pulls you into him as he fucks you in sync. Jeff's aggressive and lacks any rhythm. He's cursing under his breath with almost every thrust.

"Fuck... Damn whore...! Fucking shit, you're tight —!" His words are there, but they go unregistered by you. You're too overcome with stupid bliss.

"Uuugh! Jeff!" you moan. Jeff's cock is buried deep inside you, stretching you out, making you feel so fucking fulfilled. A wave of ecstasy rushes through you like never before. "Jeff... Jeff..! Th–This is good — Mm'more...!"

Your entire body is trembling. Your moist walls clench around his dick. Legs giving out, your thick arousal gushes out from you and stains the sheets. But Jeff isn't done yet. He rams into you — harder, faster, mercilessly.

You're practically limp. Your head thumps against the mattress with each thrust. You lose the ability to talk, only able to whimper and moan; but the sounds of your voices are drowning out as you're intoxicated by the pleasure.

"Fuck... Fuck!" Jeff moans a final time. With a shudder of his hips, Jeff pulls out. Loads of warm, white liquid shoot out onto your stomach. You feel yourself sinking into the bed.

Jeff holds his flaccid dick in his hand, come still leaking out from the tip. He's staring down at you, both of you breathing heavily. There's a moment of silence, a mutual understanding that you need to regain your composure. But it doesn't last long.

"Ha... Hah, what a fucking night..." he mutters. Jeff gets off the bed before you do, already beginning to throw on his clothes.

"...Jeff?" you say, sitting up. "Are you leaving?" You don't know why you're asking, especially with such a soft tone.

"No shit," Jeff replies. "But," he pulls his hoodie down, "I might have to tell old man Slender about you." Again, he grins.

"Old man who?"

"Nothing, nothing."

Jeff heads to the window. Your heart sinks as he fiddles with the locks. This stranger — local serial killer — is leaving you... and you, for some sick fucking reason, don't want him to. You want him to stay. Maybe you wish you could feel his warmth for longer. But you can't control his actions. You couldn't even get your friend here — so why would this man stay for you? Jeff's already crawling over the windowsill, and you're achingly empty.

But before he leaves, he turns to look at you. And he says, in a hushed tone that makes your heart flutter —

"Just know you'll be seeing me again."

[stardewstardropthoughts]

How about the farmer and bachelor hiding in a small place. Like they are hips and chest pressed against each other. The farmer doesn't noticed but the bachelor is going wild over the limit space between them. You can make it nsfw I don't mind! :)

This took me forever to get to I’m so sorry! Also these are mostly just lewd as opposed to like whole nsfw but Sebastian and Alex’s got full nsfw 😂

Content warnings: mostly gender neutral reader except Sebastian’s is afab reader, reader calls Sebastian daddy once, Theyer long as hell, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT PLEASE

Small spaces but big opportunities with the bachelors

Shane:

He wanted to come to the mines with you, mostly out of curiosity but also because he wanted to make sure you weren’t doing anything to dangerous

Thankfully the level that you had gone to didn’t have to many monsters on it and while he still thought that maybe it wasn’t the best place, he could see the appeal

At least until you both fell into a kinda deep very narrow pit

He landed flat on his ass and you landed unceremoniously on his lap, very much straddling him

After making sure neither of you were seriously injured you began to look around

“How on earth are we gonna get out of this? Does this happen to you often in the mines?”

Shane’s very concerned and trying very hard to ignore your chest being almost in his face

“Well no, I mean the tv said I’d have bad luck today but I didn’t think anything of it!”

Shane stares at you blankly for a moment “the tv said…okay we can unpack that later, for now we should figure this out”

He tried to shift around a bit but quickly stopped as the friction of your body rubbing against the crotch of his pants caught him off guard, thank god it’s a little dark and you can’t see the red now painting his face

He’s got his hands resting on your thighs, you try shifting around to see if you can maybe stand up but his grip tightens and you could almost swear he moaned a little bit

“You okay? You said you weren’t hurt! What hurts? Do you need a health elixir? I have extra in my bag”

“No, no sweetheart that’s not it, I’m not hurt just, fuck”

You just noticed the bulge straining against his shorts and pressing against your inner thigh

“Oh” you hadn’t noticed until now that he had gotten hard

“Fuck I’m so sorry I-“ he got cut off as you ground down against him

“Shit sweetheart, you sure you wanna start this right now?” He’s practically growling out his words with how gravely and husky his voice is currently

“Never been more sure, sir”

He has a sir kink, fight me on it

He tightens his grip on your hips to help you grind against him while he smashes his lips against yours in a very heated kiss

Harvey:

You were in the tiny medical closet at his clinic looking for some gauze he had asked you to grab for him so he could restock the drawer

It was taking a moment though so he came to check on you and ultimately the door accidentally shut behind him

It locks from the outside automatically

Harvey is now chest pressed to your back due to the confined space in the closet, hardly enough room for you to try and turn around

“Well hey there doc, whatcha need?”

“The doors locked and maru doesn’t get here for another hour, this wasn’t supposed to happen”

He’s trying not to focus on how warm you feel pressed against him, how perfectly your body fits against his, and how the sudden proximity has his dick stirring in his pants

You’re squinting to see in the dark closet and all but have to stand on your tippy toes to read if the label in front of you reads gauze

“Just as well because this feels like a lost cause, how do you find anything in here?”

Your ass brushes against the growing bulge in his pants and he has to stifle a groan at the contact

“We can find it later, just stay still please”

He’s sounds strained, and then you can feel it pressing into your back

“Harvey, are you hard right now?”

This mans spilling apologies from his lips so quickly

“I’m so sorry this was never meant to happen your just very pretty and being stuck in the little closet with you isn’t helping and-“

You cut him off by bringing a hand around your back and gently grabbing his bulge

“I don’t mind, gives us something to do in the meantime” you would wink at him but you arnt facing him and the rooms dark

“I- are you sure? I want this but I need to know you want this as well”

You’ve been pining after the doctor for like a year and a bit at this point so of-course you want this

“Yes I want this Harvey, touch me, please”

How could he say no when you ask so politely

Sam:

Not so much trapped in a closet together as it is playing seven minutes in heaven at a party Abigale was throwing

You picked his name out of a hat and then got promptly shoved into a very small closet with him

Chest to chest, Harley enough space to breath without feeling his heart beat against you

“We uh, we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to”

He’s always considerate of your comfort

“Time starts now! Have fun~” you could hear Abigail’s voice fading away as she walked back down the hallway

“Sooooooooooo, think there’s a light in here orrrrr we just gonna make out in the dark?”

You meant to ease the tension with a little joke but god do you wanna kiss him

He’s taking the dive, hands on either side of your face as he presses his lips to yours

With only a little struggle in the confined space you managed to wrap your arms around his neck

Soon he’s trailing kisses down your neck, leaving little bites here and there just so he can hear the way you try not to whine

Your hands down the front of his jeans slowly stroking him

“Fuck sweetheart, wish we had more time. Wanna take this to your place?”

Yes you do in-fact want to take this to your place

Which is just as well because Abigale is knocking on the closet door to tell you your times up and that you both better have pants on

Elliott:

Had he meant to be stuck in a small crevice in the forest with the farmer directly underneath him? No

But his little outings don’t seem to want to go to plan these days

He does however, appreciate the view of you, underneath him red faced as he tries to find a way to get up that doesn’t involve accidentally standing on you

“Must be exhausting holding yourself up like that, you can lay down I don’t mind a human weighted blanket”

God your adorable

Only lets some of his weight rest on you

“Well, this isn’t the best circumstances but even so you still look absolutely ravishing”

Meant that to be an inside thought but alas, it became an outward thought. He wishes lightning would strike him if that didn’t mean you would also be in harms way

“Well your not half bad yourself handsome, lemme just”

You gently pull his hair back into a ponytail with a hair elastic you keep on your wrist for him

That’s all he needs to lose composure, soon enough y’all are making out in the crevice

Wondering hands and gentle nips across your neck are enough to get small gasps out of you

God you sound amazing he thinks

But he’s not about to bed you in a hole in the ground, he’s more romantic then that

But the moment y’all get out and head back to his beach shack?

Soft gasps turn to moans, hushed whispers turn to loving praises, wondering hands stray further beyond the elastic of your underwear as he shows you just how good he can be with his hands

Sebastian:

You and him went swimming, despite his dislike of the activity he was always willing to go with you

You had wanted to explore a little cave like opening in the stone of the mountains near the lake and he came with you to make sure your good

And that’s how you end up here, stuck pressed against each other in your swimsuits, stuck between two particularly close stone walls

Sebastian’s trying to look anywhere but at you to avoid popping the most awkward boner in existence

“Well this is less then ideal, sorry Sebastian I didn’t think we would get stuck”

You feel a bit bad since you know he’s probably pretty uncomfortable right now

“Th-that’s okay, not your fault”

He has one hand behind your head so you don’t accidentally smack it on the hard rocks, his other hand is on your waist because it felt right to place it there

“Well, atleast the suns setting so you won’t get burnt”

“And we’re basically skin to skin so we probably won’t freeze”

He tried to lighten the mood a bit, it worked since you let out an airy laugh

“Could be worse, atleast I get the hot emo boy to keep me company”

Now he’s blushing, from chest to forehead just red

“You think I’m hot?”

Definitely had a voice crack in that statement but you ignore it much to his prides pleasure

“Absolutely, hottest guy in town”

Your trying to kill him he’s convinced but atleast he’ll die happy

“Fuck baby you can’t just say shit like that while pressed against me”

You can feel his erection pressing into your stomach

“Hmmmmmm maybe I’m prepared for the consequences”

The hand that was on your waist gently wraps around your neck as he pulls you into a heated kiss, tongue exploring the inside of your mouth while you gasp against him

You manage to bring your legs up enough to sort of trap his hips against yours as you grind against him

He moans against your lips before pulling back to trail kisses down your neck, leaving a few hickeys on whatever spots seem particularly sensitive

Meanwhile you’ve pulled his cock out of his swim shorts and lined him up with your cunt, gently rubbing the head through your folds for a moment before grinding your hips down just enough to sheath him inside

“Fuck, so fucking tight around me baby”

You whine into his skin as you hide your face into his neck, he’s gently thrusting into you as much as the little space will allow him to do

One of his hands travels between your body’s to start rubbing little circles on your clit while you fist your hands into his hair

“Shit seb, feels so fucking good”

He whines quietly at your praise as he can feel the knot forming in his stomach, he’s close to cumming but thankfully so are you

“Not gonna last much longer baby, cum with me, yeah? Think you can be a good girl and cum with daddy?”

Your nodding frantically as you start to spasm around him, milking his cock for all its worth

He slams his hips into you once more as deep as he can before filling your warm walls with his cum

Somehow all the movement you guys have done has wedged you free, no longer stuck in a tight spot your heading back to his place for round two

Alex:

You and Alex were exploring the deep woods together because he wanted to know what types of things you do in your day to day

He was not expecting the woods to be full of slimes trying to kill you but ya know, it’s always an adventure with the farmer

That’s how you end up in a small cave pressed against each other while you patch up a small wound on his thigh

“You okay? Your being pretty quiet up there”

He’s trying not to focus on how close to his dick your hands are so he doesn’t get hard

It’s not working very well

“I’m fine, just a little scrape I’m sure it’s okay”

“Yeah but it’s better to take care of it now, don’t want it to get infected”

He knows your right but also your hands brushed by his cock and now he’s got a semi

And it’s hard not to notice especially when it twitches as your hands brush over it again

“Baby, sweetheart, love please, you gotta know what your doing to me”

Your feigning innocence because it’s a little entertaining watching him be so flustered

“Hmmmm i should make sure your not injured anywhere else”

Your hands are on the buttons to his jeans looking at him for permission to pull them down

He knows the game your playing, so he lets you

You’ve got his cock out and your gently stroking your hands up and down his shaft, adjusting the pressure to what gets the best reaction out of him

“Oh fuck sweetheart that’s so good”

He’s putty in your hands

You decide to go for double kill and gently lower your mouth on the tip, sucking lightly while you stroke his shaft

He’s moaning loudly now, one hand in your hair to start bobbing you up and down on his cock

“Shiittt baby gonna lemme cum down your throat yeah? Please”

How could you say no to such a nice request

You relax your throat as best you can and take his whole cock into your mouth at once, he’s cumming in seconds

You pull back and swallow as you smile up at him

He needs like ten minutes to recover but he’s returning the favour twice over

[rainylana]

“Still alive?”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: a relaxing day at home and eddie wants to play.

warnings: smut, language, mentions of spanking, reader calls herself fat, rough sex.

There was something so sexy about watching you paint. Maybe it was how your face scrunched up in concentration. Maybe it was how cute you looked, hair put up and comfy clothes with old paint stains. It was a hot day, so it was spent inside for the both of you. Eddie had lounged on the couch all day watching movies, a cold beer in his hand. When you broke out your canvas and paints, he didn’t pay much more attention to the film on screen. He watched as the white board turned into a bowl of fruit. First it was grapes, then a red apple, then a pear. Now you were working on a pineapple, halfway down with the green and brown spikey stems.

You looked adorable. Little grey, snug shorts just cut at the curve of your backside, black crop top covered in colored paint stains. Your paintbrush end was in your mouth, your eyes into slits as you thought about your painting. You always criticized your work. He didn’t understand why. You were extremely creative. You’d entered into the local fair and won awards almost every year. You liked your paintings to tell a story, is what you always told Eddie.

The polaroid camera sat on the coffee table beside him, and he quietly reached over and brought it to eye level, clicking the button as the room quickly flashed. You jumped at the noise. “Hey,” You looked back with a smile. “I look a mess!”

“You look beautiful.” He corrected for you, setting the camera back down as he held the polaroid. “I’ve been watching you for hours now. I don’t know what the hell I’m even watching now.”

“Friday the 13th chapter 2.” You laughed, turning back to your painting. “I wondered why I felt eyes at the back of my head. Thought maybe we had a ghost.”

“Oh, no.” He shook the picture. “So scary.”

He groaned loudly as he sat up from the couch, glancing at the tv as Jason sliced someone up with his machete, and happily trotted over to you. “Look how pretty.” He swung his arms around your neck, bending down to show you the picture with a cheesy smile.

“God, I look fat.” You cringed. “I’m slouched over. Throw that shit away.” You waved your hand so you wouldn’t have to see it.

“Fat?” He said incredulously. “It’s amazing how you can turn my compliments into insults. You’re too harsh on yourself, babe.” He put the picture in his back pocket, clapping your shoulder. “So, tell me what the story is with this beautiful bowl of fruit.”

“Farmers market opens next week.” You touched up your stem on the pineapple. “Thought maybe they’d like to hang this up by the register.”

“That’s nice of you.” He smiled, admiring the bright colors. “Joyce get hired there?”

“Mhm.” You hummed. “Starts opening day. I think Nancy wants to get a job there too.” You tilted your neck to the side as he kissed it lovingly under your ear.

“Mhm.” His vibrations warmed your neck.

You smiled, dipping your brush in yellow paint. “You’re gonna mess me up, Eddie.”

He dipped down to your shoulder, pulling down your tank top strap to kiss the exposed skin. “Don’t let me distract you, babydoll. Just lovin’ on what’s mine.”

“What’s yours?” You raised a brow in amusement.

He hummed back in response and you could feel his smile on your skin. “Eddie,” You rolled your head back. “I’ve got to finish this by tomorrow.”

“Come on, play with me.” He came up to kiss your cheek, making your smirk. “I’m tired of watching movies.”

You rolled your eyes and put down your paintbrush. “Fine,” You dramatized. “You want your dick sucked?”

“You make having sex with me sound like a chore,” He scoffed, pushing his curls out of his face. “I’m so touched.”

You chuckled and grabbed at his shirt. “Shut up.” You pressed your lips against his, standing on your tipy-toes. Wrapping your arms around his neck, he slowly walked you the both back to the couch. When the backs of his knees hit the couch he laid down, pulling you on top of him.

You kissed him slowly and lovingly, noses rubbing together, little sounds mixing with the violence on the tv screen. Your bare legs rubbed against his jeans, a little warmth growing in your belly of contentment. “Am I boring you?” He cupped the back of your neck, lightly pulling at your hair.

“A little.” You challenged, grinding your clothed body against his own. You whimpered when his large hand cupped the space between your legs, adding pressure in just the right spot.

“There she is.” He smirked slightly, looking up at you with hooded eyes. “See, if I was boring you, angel, you wouldn’t make that pretty sound, now would you?”

“More.” You breathed, leaning into his opposite hand he had on your face, your pussy pounding in the palm of his other.

“I don’t know,” He tsked, petting your face. “You were getting a little too mouthy for my liking, sweetheart. Maybe I should spank that bad attitude out of you, huh? Maybe I shouldn’t let you come.” He rubbed his hand against your shorts, his dirty words making you throb desperately. 

“Please,” You begged, fluttering your eyes. “I want to come so bad. I’m sorry for being bad.” You could feel how hard he was against your bare thigh, and you reached out to palm his erection just like what he was doing with you.

He stiffened with a small groan. “Fuck. You’re a fuckin’ wet little thing, aren’t ya’?”

You nodded quickly, reconnecting your lips together in a quick tangle, rocking your bodies together like the ocean currents against the sand. You tumbled together, furiously removing articles of pesky clothing until your naked bodies were on display. Your wet arousal shined between your thighs, his hard cock resting against your slit as you tongue danced with him.

He sat up and twisted you around so he could be on top, leaning down to kiss you hard, dark curls falling down like a curtain. “Put your legs on my shoulders.”

You blushed deeply at the demand, obeying his words as you did so. You whimpered when he looked down at your push, aligning the tip of his thick cock. “Beg me for it.” He pushed out a husky breath.

You groaned and rolled your head to the side, arching your back for me. “Please,”

He rubbed himself up and down, circling your clit that send electric shock waves into your body, making you shake. “More.”

“Please, please, Eddie,” You had tears in your eyes. “I want your cock so fucking bad, please- oh,” He pushed himself in, the both of you simultaneously moaning. He thrusted in, bottoming out, his balls against the curvature of your backside.

He grabbed your hands and put them above your head, holding them there tightly as he began pounding into you. You’d never done it in this position before, not with your legs like this. It only made it more exciting for you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck” You cried, panting heavily as tears leaked from the corners of your eyes. He looked down to his cock thrusting in and out of your pussy, your arousal making him glisten. He grunted, the weight of his thrusts making the couch squeak across the floor.

“Oh, god!” You sobbed, trying to move your hands. “Right there! Just like that, please don’t stop!” Your praises only made him go harder, your legs still dangling on his shoulders. He fucked you hard and deep, his cock abusing your g spot. You knew you wouldn’t be able to walk after this.

Your orgasm brewed in your stomach, your legs shaking from how cruel he was with you. You loved it in every way. “Gonna be my good girl again?” His words came out shaky, still domineering.

“Mhm, yes!” You mewled, arching your back. “Oh, god, you feel so good, give it to me, give it to me-” You chanted, your clit rubbing against his pubic bone.

“Fuck,” His stomach warmed and the ball inside was tight, coming down to kiss your lips. He let go of one of your hands to slap your clit, making you squeal. “Bad girl.” He trembled, his thrusts becoming sloppy. “Been a bad- shit, bad little girl,”

“I’m close.” You cried, singing whimpers of songs that made him climb the ladder to release. “Almost, almost,”

Both of you came simultaneously, you sobbed and whimpered with you, his hips moving slower, but deep to ride through the release. He collapsed on top of you, his softening cock still inside of you. Your vision was blurry, your legs falling off his shoulders. Your breathing was erratic like you had been punched in the gut.

He gave you a wet kiss on the side of your neck, a tired graze of his lips that tickled. “Still alive?”

You chuckled, holding out a thumbs up to him.

[cheollipop]

HIII :D

Can you write a little drabble about dom Yunho and fem reader ignoring eachother after an argument and so y/n comes up with a plan to tease Yunho while he’s busy ignoring her and playing video games and then he ends up getting worked up and it then leads to rough sex 🙈 (sorry if this is too much lol)

2𝙠 𝙎𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩

hi anonnie!! this... thisssssss egsjbks omg gamer bf!yunho AND mad!yunho?? yummy YUMMY- ahem, this was very fun to write, and i may have gone a bit overboard with it oopsie. also, been in a playful mood lately, so you get bratty!reader~ happy reading ^^

pairing: jeong yunho x fem!reader

w.c.: 1.6k

tags: smut, oral (m), make-up sex, lots of cum talk bc... teehee, yunho's kinda mad but turns soft, reader's a little brat ><

nsfw under cut—minors dni!

Eyes trained on the screen before him, spattered splotches of red masking his point of view as his player failed to block the incoming stream of bullets, his fingers stuttering over his keyboard as loud yelling blasted into Yunho’s ears, his friends’ voices contained within the worn-down cushions of his headset. His eyebrow twitched in annoyance, partly because of the insults being thrown his way as he struggled to aim his sniper, but mainly at his inability to recall how the argument he’d had with you a couple hours ago had even started. He wracked his brain for an answer, but all he came up with was the menacing smile stretching your lips when you walked into the room hours after he’d stormed off, opting to bully eleven-year-olds online with his friends, camping at their spawn point and watching them grow frustrated with his unfair tactics.

The situation flipped, though, once your smile disappeared underneath his desk, your body hidden under the polished wood, and Yunho nearly cursed at the missed view of your delicate hands undoing the strings of his sweatpants. He wasn’t mad at you, he could never be, even more so when you had your fingers wrapped around his cock, tongue drawing circles around his head and collected the occasional spurts of precum as he grew harder in your grasp. He shuffled in his seat, containing a groan before it could leave his lips when you took his length down your throat, your lips meeting the digits wrapped around his girth before pulling off for air. Yunho wasn’t sure how many games he’d lost so far, only that his friends were growing frustrated with his silence, but he didn’t dare speak, knowing his voice would give away the nature of the situation he was in.

Brushing off the blonde locks obscuring his vision, he attempted to return to his position at the enemy’s base, only for you to flatten your tongue along the underside of his cock while sliding him back into your mouth, waiting until the tip prodded at your uvula before swallowing around it. To his luck, the startled grunt drawn out of him aligned with his teams’ nth loss, and his friends returned to their endless berating.

You pulled off him again, resting your head high enough on his thigh to stare up at his flushed face over the edge of his desk—eyes glazed over and unfocused as they gazed back at you, his lips bitten raw and a pretty rose tinting his neck and the sliver of his chest peeking at you over his collar. Your hand remained on him to smear your saliva down his length, squeezing at his base and back up to twirl around his cockhead, all while watching his composure slowly breaking down and his impatience seep into his features. With hesitation, you moved your eyes off him and to the pretty, bright pink painting his angry tip while it leaked translucent liquid that mingled with your spit, leaning forward to lick a stripe over the throbbing vein decorating his shaft.

You heard deft fingers pressing over the keycaps followed by the loud clang of his headset hitting the wooden desk, his thighs retracting as he rolled his chair back, and his hands squeezed around your biceps to hold you up. Forcefully pulling you to your feet with him, the snarky remark died on your tongue as he pushed back onto the bed, a sudden exhale blowing out of your lungs when you landed under him.

“Had your fun?” the deep baritone sent a shiver down your spine. Looking up at him, you took in the sweat pilling on his forehead, and you unsuccessfully attempted to wiggle out of the grasp he had around your wrists.

You bent your knee enough to dig into his hanging cock, the corners of your mouth twisting upwards when he jerked back. “Seems like you did too.”

You saw his eyebrow twitch again before a firm hand grabbed at your jaw, his other hand working your bottoms down your legs, two fingers pushing between your walls before you could even think of a retort. But you simply giggled, amused by how worked up you’d managed to get Yunho. You pecked the palm covering your lips, breathing out airy moans as he repeatedly pressed his fingers into your g-spot. He scissored his fingers, watching hot arousal dripping out of your cunt to seep into his duvet, cursing under his breath while using it to lube himself up.

“Can’t believe you,” he mumbled after releasing your jaw, leaning down to press himself flush with your chest, hands on your hips while he sunk into you, a melody of grunts and moans bouncing off the walls as he ground into your pussy, making sure you took every last inch of him. “Fuuuck, so fucking tight for me, aren’t you? Even when you’re being a brat,” he pressed his lips to the smile stretching yours.

Your smile wavered, playfulness fading away as you held his face to gaze into his hooded eyes, “are you still mad?”

Your whisper halted his insistent grinding, sparing you from the delicious glide of his cockhead over your walls to press a kiss to your forehead, “I could never be mad at you, sweetheart. I’m sorry it seemed that way,” the hands holding your hips wrapped around you, one cradling the back of your head and the other on your lower spine, holding you so close you could hear his racing heartbeat.

You knew this didn’t solve the problem, and that you’d have to sit down and talk about it again soon, but Yunho’s hold—so warm and tender—set a veil of tranquillity over your moving bodies and erased any significance tied to your previous argument.

But Yunho was still desperate, brimming lust mingling with his desire to make love to you, his hold gentle and yet his hips were merciless. He slammed his cock into your cunt, breathy ah's blowing over the side of you neck while he drew out orgasm after orgasm from you, his length pulsating within your heat as pleasure seared through your bodies. Your thighs trembled around him, and your hips ached when he flipped you over, grabbing your ass to pull you back onto his cock while his other hand pushed your head down into the mattress, taking what he needed from you and revelling in the sweet moans he got in return.

Overstimulation mingled with pleasure, and you tuned out your surroundings save for the choked grunts Yunho blew against the shell of your ear, the flesh of your ass growing raw with his repetitive thrusts, the back of his thighs slapping roughly against your skin.

“gonna come,” he panted, “gonna fill you up all the way, yeah baby?”

You rambled incoherently into the sheets, the hand holding your head down tangling into your hair until dull pain shot through your scalp. Moaning a succession of “yes” and “please,” Yunho held you in place while he emptied thick ropes of his cum between your fluttering walls, doing just as he said he would: filling you up all the way, until the heat spread into your womb.

Yunho brushed the hair off your face to watch your pupils disappear, rutting his softening cock into you to push you further over the edge, aiding you down from your high with skilled rolls of his hips and kisses peppered over your skin, groaning at the tight squeeze of your cunt around him. When overstimulation jerked your body away from his grasp, you reached back with heavy limbs to push at his hips, sighing once his thick length slid out of you, and you missed the string of cum connecting his cockhead to your leaking hole. But Yunho eyed it until it broke, sliding his hands up your spine and flattening his body over yours, his weight held up by the elbows digging into the mattress by your head.

Pressing kisses to every patch of skin he could reach, yunho brushed away your tears with the plush of his lips, kissing over your shut eyelids while breathing in your uneven exhales. His pretty angel, he couldn’t believe how beautiful you were, especially after you’d milked him dry, always so beautiful when you were stuffed full of his cum. Covered in sweat, shirt sticking to your trembling figure, your cunt oozing the translucent liquid while it clenched uselessly around the chill air.

You craned your neck to look at the man hovering over you, clothed chest brushing over your back with every breath he drew in. He looked just as ruined—a pretty flush painting his cheeks, eyes soft and brimming with adoration as they mooned over your expression. You wondered what face you were making, and why it seemed make him so starstruck.

“We good?” You breathed out into the air between you, a hopeful glimmer in your eyes.

Yunho focused on the spit drying over your lips, the line of drool going down to your chin reflecting the light from his monitor. His cock twitched in interest where it lay snug between his lower belly and your ass, and he rolled his hips experimentally, your sweet arousal around the hardening length gliding smoothly over your skin.

He hummed, meeting your hopefulness with an innocent smile, though the hint of slyness hidden within the gesture did not go unnoticed. Rolling his hips once more, he enveloped your body completely, resting some of his body weight over you while he whispered in your ear, a dribble of his cum seeping out of you as you squeezed around nothing.

“I think I might need a little more convincing.”

[raimoka]

— " (I'M) WAITING FOR THE SUN "

｡ ㅤꕤ ㅤ PAIRING: dazai osamu & reader.

SYNOPSIS: it was just a single string, so thin it could easily be cut with scissors, however, with just that mere red thread, it tied you to him.

tags ➜ alternate universe — modern, no abilities, painter!reader, writer!dazai dreams, pining, generally a fluff, soulmates trope, catching feelings, open ending, named reader — only last name though, dazai osamu is bad with feelings implication. ‹𝟹

⋆ author's notes: I wanted to try something new and the first thing that came in my mind was soulmates trope.

send an order!! → guide ❀ flowers ←

You have always been a dreamer.

Oftentimes you would drift away from your surroundings into an imaginary world, your sense of reality blurring away.

In that world you would feel relaxed, happy and at peace even if it's for merely a few minutes. A world where you could erase everyday from your mind and form an illusion of something you were unable to grasp, a world filled with colors and beauty.

It's bittersweet.

And although it's painful knowing these are nothing more but surreal fantasies, hopes and dreams it's worth it in the end.

However—as of late, your daydreams changed into a one singular daydream that, for whatever reason, keeps replaying in your mind like a broken record.

Day or night, in the painting room or in the peace of your room, whenever you close your eyes, be it a ten minute nap or eight hours of sleep the same scenario will play in front of your eyes over and over again.

Sun will shine its way through the grass as your fingers brush against your creamy white lace dress. Birds will sing their song to which you'll hum under your breath as the fruity smell of just bloomed flowers lingers in the air.

You'll sing and dance and laugh as if you're the only one in the world.

Then after a while you'll approach a big cherry tree in bloom, and suddenly you won't be alone anymore. There, in front of that very tree, will stand a person with chocolate colored brown hair carried by the wind, wearing a white button up shirt along with black trousers.

They'll look in the distance, seemingly unfazed and each time and even after twenty times you've seen the ending, you would approach them slowly when—as if on cue the person will turn around and you would freeze up at your spot, your heart skipping a beat because in front of you will stand the most beautiful human you have ever encountered. For a moment, they'll lock eyes before they vanish into the air, leaving no trace behind.

Then you'll twitch, snapping back to reality.

bleary and cloudy, immense hues of darkness lay hold of your sight, then as the starch gradually settles to the bottom and the skim rises to the top, at last your eyes wearily open—unable to remember his face.

It's as if when their eyes lock everything fades and your brain stops. It's weird and the more times it happens the more annoying it gets.

The person in your dreams feels familiar yet so out of reach. Like you've known them your entire life but hasn't even met them yet, as if the two of you were tied by a red thread of fate.

His presence is strong. Unique. Strange.

You can remember the way the smell of carnations surrounded him, the way his chocolate colored brown hair rode on the breeze, the way they were so tall you almost felt embarrassed standing near him but you can't, for the love of god, remember their face.

You feel their stare on your face. You know that your eyes lock each time and that each time they do your heart skips a beat. You know it and yet you can't pinpoint even the most obvious things, like their color.

You want to know more and everytime that you feel like you're getting closer to discovering something, you would get pulled out of the state of unconsciousness, snapping you back into reality.

It was as if it was mocking you, laughing at the anger it was giving you.

Your eyebrows knitted together, hands balling into a fist.

You ha—

The sound of wood splitting in half brought you back into reality, disrupting the scrambles of thoughts beginning to form within your mind.

huh ?

You lift your head, met with the sight of your paintbrush splitted into two. The other half of the paintbrush falls, accompanied with the sound of thud.

Your lips, which were previously formed into a thin line, parted.

"nazoki, did you just break your brush?"

you tense up. you feel everyone's eyes shift to your frame, hushed whispers accompanied with snickers filling the room. sweat builds up on your hands as the giggles continued, and you bit down on your lip, hovering your gaze on your thighs.

"It can be easily fixed but remember, that's not your own and you need to learn how to be careful with the brushes."

meekly, you dipped your head in response.

"yes ma'am..."

❀

It was already late when you arrived back home.

The sun had gone down, and the skies embraced by hues of warm colors had turned into vast of blackness already.

You didn't change out of your clothes, with the fatigue beginning to overtake your body, you didn't bother to do so.

You gently unlocked the door to your room and slipped inside.

you were greeted with pure abyss, which was anticipated since it was already night. however, there was still some disinctive things within the shadows, like the books sheltered on the shelves, the roses in the vase on the nightstand, and the paintings in the corner of your room.

you perk up.

you moved, walking towards to the empty canvas at the corner of your room.

In front of you, you laid down an empty white canvas and some newly bought paint from few days ago. without a second thought you started painting. You didn't know what you were going for just yet but you settled on just letting your hand move freely across the canvas.

One stroke then another—you paint sky, petals and a silhouette.

So far it's turning pretty decent but the more you draw the more anxious you became. The brush in your hand starts shaking as you reached out to paint the silhouette's face.

...

What now?

Cold sweat runs down your face and you had to take a moment to snap back to reality. Suddenly your stomach fills with dread and you had to take a break from painting.

The face. You couldn't remember the face.

You didn't finish the painting that day.

❀

There is no need for you to open your eyes because when you came to your own senses, feeling grass beneath your palms as the sun beams directly in your face, you knew exactly where you were.

Despite going to sleep in a bad mood you can't help but feel strangely relaxed now that you're here.

Slowly opening your eyes, you sit up and took a look around. Nothing, as far as you're aware, has changed. It's still the same dreamy place you visit everyday (sometimes even multiple times).

Birds are still singing, the sun is still shining and the flowers are still blooming.

After a short walk you find out the unknown person is also still here, simply staring at the distance.

You freeze in place and simply admires them from afar, staring at their back profile.

They stand there unbothered.

You take a big risk of walking up to them—not too close but not as far in an attempt to get a better view. Nothing.

You're scared.

Then you get a crazy idea.

Now you're terrified.

Quickly, before you get a chance to make a cowardly decision and back up, you ran towards the person and grabs their wrist, not giving them enough time to turn around.

First thing that you felt is warmth. Their skin is warm.

You lift your head head and meets their face that is now painted with a shocked expression, lips parted. When your eyes meet you felt fear, surprise, shock, happiness, anxiety all at once because you've finally caught them.

Then all emotions swirling within your chest dulls and the person slips away, disappearing from your grip once again.

❀

First thing, you did when you woke up is rush towards the canvas and frantically attempts to copy down the face, that expression of surprise and alarm, as similar as possible before eventually it too leaves your mind.

However it doesn't turn out anything like you've seen just a few moments prior. The expression on its own looks pretty amazing and the face is really unique, not quite like anything you've drawn before, but it's not his.

Shit.

Why? why couldn't you do it?

You were so close and yet—

You slipped up.

You didn't get it. You needed to remember. You didn't know why.

All you knew is that this person drives you crazy.

❀

Surrounding you, there was variety of pages of papers, canvas, multiple art supplies.

You pull out canvas after canvas messing up, repainting, scrapping, breaking, trying again, over and over again but nothing feels right.

Before long, what little memory of the person's face is left in your memory vanishes leaving you with an uneasy feeling in your chest. You fall to your knees, gripping the paintbrush in your palm firmly, cursing yourself. Why? Why couldn't you remember?

It continues like this for a while. After every nap you would pull out your sketchbook, which has by now found its new place under your pillow, and try to sketch the face but each and every time you'd be met with another failed attempt.

It felt like a curse of some sort. Wanting to remember but not being able to. Wanting to know but not being able to meet. Wanting to understand but not being able to learn.

You've tried many different ways. You tried jumping him. You tried running into him. You tried approaching him slowly. Sometimes you'd lock eyes with him, sometimes he'd disappear the moment they establish physical contact. You'd sketch day and night but you just couldn't nail it.

Slowly but noticeably a pile of crumpled up paper in your trash can started increasing. So far you've ruined three canvases and wasted almost an entire sketchbook which gave her an confrontation from your roommate, both from the trash and the one canvas you borrowed from her.

"If you need canvas, please just buy one for yourself. I'm gonna get scolded by my mother."

"the trash can in your room is starting to overflow with trash... some of the trash are even on the floor already, please dispose of them if you can. I don't know what you're trying to do but you should give it a little break, it doesn't seem like you're getting anywhere either way."

you've apologized multiple times for it, but in spite of her intentions being different, the painful truth behind her words pierces through your heart like an arrow. You weren't not getting anywhere that much is right but she's trying.

you were trying so hard because for the first time in a while you had a goal set in mind.

That night you didn't bother the guy. Instead, you sat down leaning on that big tree watching him stand just a few meters ahead of you.

You haven't given up of course but god you were tired. you sigh, releasing the tension in your body, closing your eyes beneath the tree's shadow.

You didn't know what you expected but someone snapping you out of your thoughts you sitting next to you was not it.

For a moment, you were too scared to look aside because this is a rare opportunity and you couldn't mess this up and yet at the same time you could wake up at any moment so if you were to waste this it would eat you up from inside for days. Anxiously, you moved your head and catches sight of the brown haired individual's side profile. It's the sight so dazzling you suck in your breath and bites your lip and just stares.

Every time you visit, you noticed a small detail you haven't before. Like how they shift from one leg to the other when the cold breeze brushes against their concealed arms, you wondered if it was really that cold for him, or how messy his hair was, you could've presumed he didn't take care of himself.

Today, you notice his eyes are shimmering brown, bright and full of life, no . they weren't full of life, they were filled with pure abyss, barely reflecting any source of tiny sparks. He was tired, lonely, and empty. You wondered how long they spent in this realm. Does he have a home? What's his story and how did he end up here? Just now after you take a good look at them, you started questioning all those things. Up until now all you knew was that they were here each time you fell asleep and that your face gets red and your heart skips a beat whenever you get near.

For the first time that you stared at them for more than two seconds, you started noticing all the little details. His bone structure, every single lash on his eye, even how messy his hair was. You take a mental note of it and stares for so long that you didn't even realize he might've feel awkward until they cough and move their face to the side, hiding their face a little bit further with the locks of his hair.

"I'm sorry."

You speak up slowly.

You wonder if he was even real.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Silence. Heavy, uncomfortable, cold, suffocating silence.

He gives her a side eye but don't say a word. You, not knowing how to react, just stares. You stare back, drowning in their eyes, not even realizing how close they've gotten to each other.

You have drawn many portraits of many different people up until this point in your life. The beauty of it all is that every person is different, unique and beautiful in their own way. Each painting you did is special because it's not like any other. That's, in your opinion, the beauty of this world. Even now, this person that might be nothing more than a fragment of your wild imagination is unlike any other you've met.

They are so beautiful it made you sick. Not just their physical appearance but their aura and their company. The way when their hands touch it sends an electric shock through your body or the way you get all warm and fuzzy inside when you were near him.

you swallowed down a thick saliva, forcing yourself to speak again, you didn't know what you were gonna say but with the tense atmosphere between the two of you, you wanted to ease it up, thus allowing the words in your throat to carry out.

"Hey."

The boy shifts his gaze towards you upon your call, moving his head along his gaze. You feel the hue of light red beginning to adorn your cheeks as soon he turns his head to your direction.

You fidgeted with your fingers, "You're a very pretty person."

You could feel his stare on you, but he didn't utter a single word.

"When I say pretty, I don't mean it just at that... you're so pretty that I could be with you all day just to watch the cherry blossom tree's bright pink light glow on your skin and how it brings out a million subtle sparks of color in your eyes, and In the evening, I could draw you all night long until I have no more strength, and when it's finally night with the moon, I could close my eyes to remember the day going by as a reflection of you."

as you spoke, you couldn't help but notice how close your faces were with just a few centimeters apart from each other. you two were so close, It distilled a warm fuzzy feeling within your chest.

"you're quite talkative."

for once within several dreams, he finally uttered a single word, and just the mere sound of his voice made you speechless. he leans his head slightly closer and you couldn't help but think that your faces will crash. you were sure your faces will crash and you're scared if they do the universe as we know will explode but the world collapses before you could get a chance to blink and suddenly you were panting in the pitch dark of an all too familiar room.

❀

They say everything comes with its good and bad sides so you presumed the same must go for this entire situation too.

If it were up to you, you'd say the good thing is you finally finished your painting. After so much time and effort you have finally created something you're satisfied with.

Bad, or rather unfortunate, thing is that the next time you went to sleep you didn't dream at all. At first you thought it was a mistake so you pulled her blanket over your frame and went to sleep again despite the morning sun desperately trying to climb on your bed through the closed windows and your roommate gently knocking on your door.

Nothing.

After a few more times of not being able to wake up in that imaginary world of yours, you started to freak out a little. It was understandable though. When you spend so much time somewhere, so much that it turns into a habit, it's only natural to get worried when it abruptly stops with no sign whatsoever.

For now you'll just have to learn to adjust to your new reality.

❀

It has been a year since you last dreamed of that dream.

you struggled to accept the truth, occasionally glancing at the painting you've finished right after your last dream. however, as time passed by, you managed to divert your attention to much more important things, slowly forgetting the world you would often dream off.

you didn't know whether you liked it or not but you supposed it was fine since a lot of great opportunities were beginning to appear to you.

"That's why nazoki-san, we would love to invite you as a guest artist for our next gallery showcase!" Words were ringing in your ears like an echo. There were thousands and one emotion flowing through her body. Excitement, joy, disbelief, anxiety and so much more.

Finally, It's finally happening. You couldn't help but think to yourself. All that hard work and effort is finally paying off.

When you got a call from a nearby gallery asking for someone with your last name, you presumed it was for your mother, a professional artist who had few of her works showcased there, that's why the first thing you felt when they said it's you they needed was confusion.

You've been drawing for years, joined many different art courses and took many drawing classes, participated in many events but getting an offer to have some of your work showcased in a big, professional and well-known gallery for one of their events was something new—a step closer to achieving your dream.

Of course, you didn't hesitate and swiftly agreed to the offer.

It's only when it came time to choose your best work you got a tad uncertain about which paintings to pick.

You decided to go for one landscape drawing, one abstract and one portrait.

Choosing a landscape and abstract was easy, you simply chose your most recent work, a work which, by chance, was seen by her classmates and some teachers and received tons of compliments.

Choosing a portrait was a bit harder though—there was just so much diversity between your models you'd feel bad choosing one out of many other, just as beautiful, ones.

You dig through the canvases in an attempt to find a perfect one when your hands suddenly brush against the beige fabric pulled over one of the canvases, hiding it from view.

A drop of cold sweat rolls down your neck as you uncover the familiar painting. It's still the same as you left it a year ago.

When your dreams stopped you felt as if you lost a part of yourself. Being unable to face the painting you worked so hard on, you ended up covering it up and leaving it to collect dust in the pile of canvases.

Even now when you looked at it, a part of you feels like sinking but the feeling of dread is easily outshined with the feeling of nostalgia and warmth.

you decided which portrait to bring to the event.

❀

More people have visited the event than you had originally planned, it was almost a bit overwhelming. Almost. All the praise you got made up for it.

You would be lying if you said you didn't like to be praised. You loved the words of affirmation, to hear someone from a higher level acknowledge her efforts and make sure you're on the right track.

You were silently lurking in the crowd the entire day, starting conversations when you'd get the chance, giving speeches about her art.

You talked and talked, over and over again, repeating what you've already said over twenty times by now and every group so far would listen carefully. Seeing them genuinely interested in your work made it all worthwhile.

Soon enough, night fell and people started leaving one by one, saying their goodbyes. It's a shame that the day has come to an end but if you're lucky maybe you will get more chances like this in the near future.

"nazoki-san!" One of the gallerys workers approaches you, "Would you mind picking up your work? I still have some guests to see off."

"Alright! Thank you so much again!" You bow down your head before you make your way to the hall where your work has been showcased up until now. It was a part of their agreement that when the event is over you'll get to bring your paintings back home.

When you step foot into the room, however, you find you weren't not alone. Almost like a deja-vu, in front of her stands a familiar brown haired person with their back turned towards you, in his hand, he held a book, it seemed like he was looking for some inspiration.

Your heart sinks.

Immediately, you stop in your tracks.

How?

Blood in your veins freezes as the cold sweat starts dripping down your face. It can't be…could it?

"E-excuse me-e—" you tried to speak up but your voice breaks in the most embarrassing way possible.

The person twitches in surprise, turning around with a startled expression on their face and it's the same damn expression you saw that day when you first grabbed their hand. you swear it is. It has to.

The person points an index finger to himself, tilting his head to the side, "Me?" as soon as you heard that voice, you knew damn well it was.

For a short moment their eyes lock. It's the same chocolate colored eyes holding the same lonesome warmth and oh you want to rush towards them at full speed and tackle them to the ground but youi calm yourself down and continues to talk, "We're closing."

Your voice comes off stronger and steadier this time but the hint of nervousness can still be distinguished.

"Oh… I'm sorry. I got lost in my thoughts."

So much happened today. You talked a lot, you walked a lot and on top of that you woke up early with only three hours of sleep the night prior, perhaps you're just imagining things. Maybe you're daydreaming again. But his voice sounds so real and you can see them so vividly even with you vision blurry from exhaustion.

There is so much you wanted to know, how, why, what, when, huh?? you heard stories about people's dreams coming true, about how some met people in their dreams but you never imagined anything so…extraordinary happening to you. But here you were with so many questions lingering in your head and so little time so you decided fuck it no matter what happens this time, no matter what kind of story your faith is writing, whatever happens in this timeline you weren't letting them go again.

The chocolate haired person gives you a warm smile, although, It looked a bit forced, you didn't say anything as he turns back to glance at the painting in front of them one last time.

"I was just thinking about how this painting looks a lot like me."

Your knees buckle up underneath you.

Weak .

you felt weak.

but you couldn't even focus on that, all you could focus on was how the person you've been longing for was indeed right in front of you.

and with that, the interlude halts.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ taglists are open everytime.

2024 © reposts are prohibited with/without permission... plagiarism is prohibited. don’t translate my work without my permission. i will take measures of reporting you. reblogs and likes are appreciated.

[webshooterrr9]

based on @nymphomatique's nerd!miguel au

CW: afab!reader, nerd!miguel, slapping, oral sex (f receiving), degrading, praise, got carried away, body worship, college students, smut under the cut!!!

"It's good enough, I guess."

Miguel just finished typing up a biology essay for you, his eyes slightly hazy from staring at a laptop for the past 2 hours. You were standing in front of your floor-length mirror, getting ready for the frat party you were planning on attending.

It took everything in his power not to stare at your body. The way the skimpy, black dress hugged your curves was a mouthwatering sight. Your freshly curled hair fell neatly over your shoulders, allowing Miguel perfect vision of your skin under your backless outfit.

His heart is racing faster than ever before as he watches you from the corner of his eyes. He places his laptop back in his backpack, before deciding that he has to say something.

He has to.

"You look... good" he manages to whisper out, half-hoping that you didn't hear it.

"Thanks." it was almost a mindless reply, like you weren't paying much attention to him. "Now get the fuck out."

"W-wait a second," Miguel suddenly gathers some courage as you brush aside his compliment. He knew you were somewhat of a mean girl, but he wanted to see this transaction through. "I... I deserve something - payment for finishing your homework for you."

You turn your head around to look at him, lifting an eyebrow.

"Yeah?" There's a bit of intrigue in your voice, but you're still harsh. He watches as you cross your arms and look at him in a demeaning fashion. It wasn't often that this nerd got the confidence to ask for any sort of reward. "And what exactly do you want? I'm not giving you money."

Miguel is a little shocked that you were willing to hear him out. "I-I'm sorry... I'm just..." He sighs cautiously.

You stare impatiently. He hesitates before forcing out his next words. "I just... I really like the way you look and-" his voice shakes when he notices the rude stare you're giving him. But he won't give up.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Just- you know, for doing your essay for you?" just as quickly as the words leave his mouth, he covers his face in shame. You laugh a bit at how dumb his request is.

"That's it?"

Miguel lowers his hands to look up at you. You can see the embarrassment painted all over his face. "You got all shy just to ask for a kiss?"

Your expression calmed and you relaxed your body language. He looked humiliated, feeling stupid for even asking that from someone as stunning and popular as you.

"Fine. C'mere." you wave him over dismissively.

He's taken by surprise, but doesn't hesitate to cross the room and approach you. His heartbeat is racing faster than ever before. Despite how he towers over you by almost a foot, he's staring down at you with doe eyes, like a lost puppy.

I can't believe I'm doing this.

You raise your hands to gently cup his cheeks, then bring his face in for a small kiss. Miguel's heart leaps into his throat when your lips make contact. It's so casual for you, but it's everything for him. A wave of euphoria washes over him, it's almost too overstimulating - to know he's finally able to kiss you.

He moans quietly and leans forward, trying to deepen the kiss. His mind races, his head spins. He's so giddy that he feels like he's going to die. All he wants now is more... so much more.

Your hands find his chest, pushing him back. His eyes shoot wide as you break the kiss.

"There. You got your reward. Happy?" Your hands rest on your hips while you speak nonchalantly.

"Y-yeah... super happy..." he chuckles nervously and runs his hands through his messy hair. It was kinda hot.

"Can I... can you do that again?"

"No, you've had enough." You return to your mirror, adjusting the little details of your outfit. "You got what you wanted. Now get the fuck out of my room."

"What?" despite how you were typically mean to him, he seemed to be surprised by that. "You can't... just be heartless like that."

That struck a nerve with you. "Heartless? You're calling me heartless?" There's a desperate look in his eyes, but you can tell that he doesn't have much courage to push the issue further. After all, he's just a nerd. But he can't shake the feeling your kiss gave his mind, his heart, his stomach, his cock...

"I did everything you wanted - I did your homework. I want something more... please." His body language shows that he's almost afraid of you and your dominatrix attitude. "Please, just one more."

"God, you're so pathetic..." you sigh, shaking your head. You can't help but laugh at his desperation - he clearly has never touched a woman in his life.

"Please..." he begs once more. "I want it more than anything..."

Something in his voice sends electricity up your spine. This is much more entertaining than that dumb party. "Mm, yeah? More than anything?"

You shove him back, causing him to stumble and fall onto your bed, his back making a thud on your mattress. "I don't think you deserve it, Miguelito... you haven't done anything for it."

His heart leaps into his throat. "I... I'll do anything. Please..."

"I want you to do something for me..." you grin with lowered eyes. "Can you guess what it is?"

"I don't know... I'm nervous." he didn't know what you meant. It made you roll your eyes. I mean come on, he was laying on your bed, with you practically on top of him - how could this dweeb not get the message?

You slap him across the cheek, hard. His cock twitches when he feels the sting, causing his cheeks to burn up in embarrassment. "You want another kiss? You have to earn it."

"Make me feel good."

---------------------------

He lets out a pathetic whimper when you sit on his dick, still clothed by his boxers. You haven't even started moving yet and he's already turning to mush. Virgin loser.

He watches anxiously as you reach for the elastic waistband of his underwear, sexily pulling them off. Fuck. What a sight. Proportionally, his dick is a pretty average size. But there was no way that it would fit all the way in.

A mean smirk forms on your lips as you stare at his boner, palming him gently and eliciting a frustrated whine from Miguel. "Your dick is so fucking pretty..." you mumble. "I don't know why you're so shy about it."

"Wait, re-really? You think so?" no one had ever seen his dick before, let alone call it pretty. His breathing shallowed.

"Mhm." Miguel whimpers again when you begin to stroke him, coating his entire shaft with all the precum he's releasing. "Aww, you poor thing..."

"You're already so whiny and I'm barely even touching you. You're such a baby."

"Please..." he breathes out.

"Please what? Use your words, baby." you don't call him "baby" as a pet name, you're mocking him. He tries to hide his face from you, but you grab his chin and pull it towards you so that you two make direct eye contact.

"Tell me what you want."

"You want me to use you, hm? You wanna be my little sex toy?"

Yes. Yes. Yes. He'd love that.

"Yes... please..." he whispers. He desperately needs your attention, so he'll take anything he can get. He'll be your toy, your lap dog, anything you want him to be. All those nights where he laid in bed alone, jerking off to the thought of someone wanting him, was finally becoming a reality.

Miguel's eyes shoot wide when he sees you lift up your dress, letting your panties drop to the floor. The frat party was long forgotten by you, since this was so much more fun.

"You wanna kiss me, yeah?" You smirk, crawling further onto him. His hardened cock leaks with pre, making you giggle a bit.

You hover over his face. "Then kiss me here."

----------------------------------------

He eats you like a man starved, needy for attention. Your hips roll firmly against his face, his mouth closing around your clit and suckling on it.

"Fuck- Miguel... so good." the nerd groans when your nails scrape at his scalp, gripping his dark hair tightly. His tongue explores every inch of your cunt, leaving behind traces of saliva as he licks and kisses the sensitive flesh.

Miguel feels his entire body tingle with joy. He's so excited to be pleasing you, to prove how good he is for you, that he's completely ignored his own needs. Lucky for him, the sound of your sweet moans are enough to get him off.

His hands grip your hips hard, pulling your wet cunt closer to his face as he feasts. His hands were sure to leave bruises later.

"Mm, god... yes..." he mumbles, the vibrations of his voice making your pussy throb even more. You grind against his face even more feverishly.

"Mig, I'm-" you sigh, trying to contain your moans as he gets more excited with his ministrations. "... 'm so fucking close, baby."

His hands run all over your hips and thighs, worshipping you like the goddess he thinks you are. His dick twitches some more, and his tongue becomes more furious around your hole.

"Mm- fuck!" you let out an unexpected wail as you feel your orgasm wash over you, your mind clouded with white. He eagerly laps up all of your juices, drinking in all of your release.

When you pull away from his face, you notice that he came too.

Miguel snaps back to reality after a moment, his cheeks flushing in a sort of embarrassment. He looks so fuckin' pretty. His hair is all messy, glasses discarded to the side, and of course, your sweet cum coating his puffy lips.

After you've caught your breath, you flash him a wicked smirk. He looks at you in panic. "Wh-What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

You sink down on the bed, lowering your face towards his cock - which was dripping with his release. His face looks worried, he knows what you're doing.

"Since you've been so good for me," you start, letting your lips hover just above his aching cock. "I figured I'd help you out too. It's only fair..."

He was gonna be in for a long night.

Poor little thing. Such a sweet boy.

CREDIT TO @nymphomatique FOR THE NERD!MIGUEL

[wzrd-wheezes]

Sirius smut where reader acts all bratty and talks back but then he turns her into a nonverbal whimpering mess PLEASE

Backchat - Sirius x reader smut

AN - aaaaaa I loved writing this so much. thank you for the request.

Warnings: unprotected sex, slight name calling and just general filth. As always, wrap it before you tap it. Minors dni.

smut under the cut

“I told you. You’ll have to wait ‘til later. James and Remus are already there waiting for us.” Sirius stood at the bedroom door, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest. His face displayed an almost displeased expression as he looked at his girlfriend who was sat on the edge of their bed.  

“And I told you that I don’t care.” Y/N spoke back, “What does it matter if we’re a bit late?” 

Sirius crossed the room rapidly, pushing his girlfriend firmly back on the bed, so that her head fell back onto the pillows with a soft thud. 

“Because I don’t want to have to explain to my friends that we’re late because my girlfriend is a whiny, little brat that can’t wait a couple of hours to get fucked.” Sirius grunted, shifting so that he was on top of her, his arms caging either said of her head.  

“You say that, but you’re the one that’s just thrown me back on the bed and you’re the one that’s currently on top of me,” Y/N smirked, “so, it looks like I’m getting my own way after all.” 

Sirius crashed his lips to hers with such force that a gasp escaped her lips. Swiftly, he slipped his tongue into her mouth, kissing her aggressively. It was all clashing teeth and bruised lips, and Y/N was panting when he finally pulled back.  

“Not backchatting now, are we, princess?” he moved down the bed, flipping her skirt up and pulling her underwear to the side, exposing her already dripping pussy, “This wet for me already?” 

He licked a long strip through her folds, his tongue darting nimbly out over her clit. Y/N groaned as she reached down to tangle her hands in Sirius’s dark hair. Her grip tightened as he slipped a finger inside of her and began pumping quickly. She thrashed around on the bed as he slipped another one inside, still continuing to lick at her clit as his fingers pressed up inside her. 

“S-sirius. I-I-” she whimpered, trailing off. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip as she screwed her face up in pleasure. Sensing that she was getting close, Sirius hastily removed his fingers from her soaking core and sat up straight. 

“What?” he asked, looking at the frustrated expression painted on Y/N’s face, “You didn’t think I’d let you cum did you?” 

He didn’t even give her time to reply before he flipped her over so that she was on all fours. His strong hands grabbed onto her ankles, pulling her roughly to the edge of her bed. Y/N readjusted herself while Sirius unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them down just enough so that his cock could spring free. He reached out and put his hand in front of Y/N’s face, palm hovering just below her mouth.  

“Spit.” he demanded. Y/N obliged straight away. He pumped his dick a few times, her spit lubricating it slightly before plunging into her. Sirius grunted as he bottomed out, one tattooed hand resting on her arse and the other buried in the hair at the nape of Y/N’s neck. He tugged on her hair roughly, causing her to arch her back, allowing him to thrust deeper into her. Y/N let out a rough moan as his cock brushed against the sensitive spot inside her. 

“Gone so quiet all of a sudden, baby.” Sirius mused, his hips snapping against her, “What happened to my little brat that was here just a minute ago?” 

“I-I- Feels so-” 

“Can’t get your words out, can you?” He chuckled, “Is m’dick that good? So good that it’s turned you into a whimpering little mess?”  

Y/N whined, nodding as much as she could with Sirius’s iron grip on her hair. Her fingers dug into the bedsheets, clinging on as if her life depended on it as Sirius slammed into her. Every single thrust made her feel like she was seeing stars and her cunt clenched around his cock as she drew closer and closer to the edge.  

“Fuck. ‘M getting close, baby.” Sirius hissed, his thrusts getting sloppy as he chased his own high. Lewd moans filled the room as he pounded into her. Eventually, Sirius stilled, burying his dick in her one final time before collapsing against her as he came.  

After a moment, he straightened up, breathless, and pulled his dick out, tucking it back inside his boxers and fastening up his jeans. Y/N stayed still, clearly not thinking that they were finished. He crouched down, peering at her pussy. He reached out with one ring-clad finger and scooped up some of his cum that was leaking out of her, gently pushing it back inside. Hooking a finger on her panties, he moved them back in place and pulled her skirt back down.  

“Come on, then.” he said, patting her on the arse, “Put your shoes on and we can leave.” The sound of his feet padding towards the bedroom door is what made Y/N turn back around, looking at him desperately. 

“But- but I didn’t finish.” she breathed, only just regaining her breath.  

“I know.” 

“But you always make me finish.” she argued.  

“Should have thought about that before you started being a brat then, shouldn’t you?” Sirius retorted, “You’ll just have to wait until we get back. If you behave then maybe I’ll let you.” 

Y/N whined, shuffling to the edge of the bed, her legs dangling off the side. She fiddled with the hem of her skirt, looking at her boyfriend pleadingly. 

“Fine,” she huffed, “Let me just change my panties and then we can go.” 

“Leave them on.” Sirius smirked, “If you’re going to act like a desperate whore that can’t wait to get fucked then you can sit at the pub with my friends with my cum dripping out of you like one.” 

[the-modern-typewriter]

PLEASEEEEE POST THE F/F SNIPPET I AM FROTHING AT THE MOUTH. I loved the last one you posted so when you said there's MORE? HELLO?

“Nope.” Astra flicked the light switch on the wall again, once, twice. “It’s definitely dead.” She moved over to the window, drawing the sweeping curtain aside and peering down the rain-sodden street. “Looks like the power’s gone out for everyone.”

It was supposed to be her birthday.  Who wanted to have a power-cut on their birthday? She couldn’t even cook the dinner she had planned. Of course, she hadn’t told anyone it was her birthday, it felt too much like a demand for gifts or attention, but she’d been looking forward to at least doing something special.

She turned.

Lucille hummed an acknowledgement, continuing to light candles, flitting from one to another. They made the room feel strangely more like a temple than before. Lucille was one of those impressively and sometimes terrifyingly uncluttered people; her attic flat was all smooth white lines and high ceilings. It always felt far more peaceful than Astra’s place, which tended to be sprawled through with half-finished easels, half-drunk cups of tea and stacks of marking at any given stage.

Astra bit her lip. She felt rather useless simply standing there staring, even if Lucille had already done most of the candles anyway, so asking if she could help felt a bit pointless. It was all clearly in hand. She cleared her throat.

Lucille shifted to face her at the sound and held her last match up to mouth, illuminating a flash of soft pink lips, before she blew the flame out. She shook the matchstick, trailing smoke as she set it aside, but held onto the candle in her other hand. The wax was a deep purple, the flame the same flickering gold as all the rest.

“Have you ever experimented with wax before?” Lucille asked, oh so casually.

Astra released a breath, startled by the sudden question, and shook her head. Her pulse shot up. “No,” she said. “But we talked about it.”

She very much doubted Lucille had forgotten that, judging by the look in her eyes.

They had met a little under a year ago, when Astra had wandered into one of Lucille’s exhibitions after work. Astra’s works were all traditional fine art paintings – when she had time anymore anyway – but Lucille’s had been shown in photographs that day.

“People get funny about me exhibiting actual people,” Lucille had said, coming to a stop next to her. “It’s a shame, really. A photograph doesn’t quite capture the same effect, you know?”

Lucille’s work had, technically, been painting also. It was just that she had painted on people’s skin rather than a canvas.

One man stood with his chest brushed skeletal, each line of his bones and ribs lit glossy white again. His heart was the only burst of colour. Another piece was a woman whose mastectomy scars had been painted over with blooming flowers, new growth, life. Another of the photographs still had been a portrait of a woman with half of her face perfectly made up with make-up, and the other half painted to be shattering like glass. Ruined.

“It’s quite an effect, though,” Astra had replied. Her heart had hammered wildly in her heart, too big, entranced in a way she hadn’t felt in a while.  “I can only imagine what the real thing is like.”

Lucille had smiled, head tipping to examine her, up and down. She watched Lucille back. She was a delicate sort of woman, cute and unthreatening. Astra had felt Lucille's attention slide through her veins like something molten all the same.

“I’d love to do you,” Lucille said, then. “Sometime. If you’re free.”

That was how it had started.

Astra didn’t consider herself the most lovely of models – she spent too many hours teaching art in classrooms and stealing chocolate digestives from the staffroom to be much of a work of art herself – but the paintbrush sweeping over her skin had been soothing.  

She’d been painted by Lucille a number of times since then, small things; a bluebird on her shoulder, an ocean up to her ankle, a ring of fingertip-shaped bruises meticulously crafted around her wrists. She was always reluctant to wash the paint off, but she’d spent a long time staring at the bruises in particular.

That was how it had evolved.

“I think you’ll like wax,” Lucille continued. “Though, as ever, you are free to say no at any time.”

Astra walked across the candlelit room and sat down in the middle of the floor in response. She raised her brows at Lucille. It wasn’t what they’d had planned for the evening, before the blackout, but she certainly wasn’t objecting to the idea.

Lucille laughed, softly, under her breath. She filled a bowl of water in the sink before coming over too, sitting down. She set the candle and the bowl to the left and studied Astra for a beat. Her attention had turned laser focused again, in the way that always made Astra’s breath catch.

Lucille was the kind of woman who suited candlelight, moonlight; anything less defined than the bright fluorescent strips of artificial bulbs. They made her seem otherworldly. Astra watched her consider, something sliding honeyed in the pit of her belly.

“Off,” Lucille murmured.

Astra pulled her dress over her head with practiced ease and tossed it a safe distance away, somewhere without fire, before wriggling out of her tights. A shiver ran down her spine as the cooler air hit her bare skin. A second shiver followed as Lucille reached out, warm fingers brushing up her calf, before moving atop her knee to press and guide her legs away from where they hunched instinctively against her chest. Astra rested them flat stretched in front of her.

Lucille leaned in to press a kiss to her lips, deep and calming, before she pulled back.

“You look beautiful,” she whispered. “Stop worrying. I’ll do your front, so you can see the finished work.”

Astra huffed and smiled, waving a hand for Lucille to go ahead.

She watched as Lucille reached for the candle. She watched as Lucille held it over her legs with a steady hand, letting her see the first time. The purple wax pooled and dropped, splattering a starburst against Astra’s thigh.

“Oh, fuck.” It blurted out of her in a shocked astonishment.

If the paint brush had always had a lulling feeling, gentle and cold, then the heat of the wax was almost like being hit. It was the same flare of heat that quickly cooled. It was, all in all, impossible to focus on anything else.

“Okay?” Lucille asked.

Astra managed a nod and managed not to giggle, breathlessly. The world apart from them suddenly felt very far away.

“Good.” Lucille reached out with her free hand, and then in one swift movement grabbed Astra by the throat and pressed her to lay down on the floor. “Don’t move,” she whispered, against Astra’s ear, before nipping her neck.  “You’ll be in trouble if you make me start over.”

Astra bit her lip for an entirely different reason than awkwardness, face flushing. She didn’t move.

The candlelight painted the room awash in shades of ochre, amber, and red; softening and sharpening corners, transforming the world she knew into new definitions. The light rippled and danced across the ceiling.

The second droplet of wax landed on her stomach, then the third, the fourth, the fifth and a small sound escaped her throat. She couldn’t brace for it. It was too unpredictable, never exactly the same heat twice. Some stung, some burned, some were the same gentle warmth as a kiss. She squeezed her eyes shut, her breathing turning ragged.

Lucille shifted more candles closer, more shades for her palette. 

It took every inch of will power Astra had to hold still as the colour splashed over her; purples and blues and bright yellows and whites. She curled her fingers into fists, digging her nails into her palms. She thought she might scream – not from pain, exactly, but because of the way every burning wax-stroke made her more aware of her body than before. More sensitive.

Lucille stopped when she started whimpering, at a particularly hot droplet just below her waist. Her hips twitched. Needing to move. Needing to deal with it somehow. Lucille leaned down to blow cool air on the spot, another soft laugh on her lips.

Astra released another, helpless, curse word in response.

“If you can’t restrain yourself, dear, I’ll have to do it for you.” Lucille’s voice was teasing. “You’re being very distracting.”

“ME!?” Astra yelped.

Lucille smothered a grin, then started again.

She pieced her work together like the fragments of a mosaic and with time the heat turned to white noise, wax pattering like bright rain upon the windows of Astra’s mind.  It was not, exactly, soothing, by any means and yet something about it was. It was overwhelming. It didn’t allow for wandering minds or ordinary troubles. She was a work of art, nothing more, nothing less. All she had to do, in the grand scheme of everything, was hold still. It was easy to get lost in the feeling.

Every so often, Lucille would pause, but time lost all meaning. It came in drips and drops, rather than anything so plebeian as seconds or minutes.

 Finally, Lucille set the candles down completely.

Astra’s head swam, and the world felt softer, and she didn’t think it was just candlelight.

Lucille leaned back over her, arms braced on either side of Astra’s head, making sure not to dislodge the wax. Her blonde hair tickled Astra’s cheek.

“Good girl. Okay?” she asked.

Astra made a noise of agreement because words felt like far too much effort. She grinned up at Lucille to make it clear. Lucille smiled back. She leaned down to press another kiss to Astra’s mouth.

“Do you want to see?”  

Astra gave her a look, because yes, of course she wanted to see.

Lucille’s smile turned to a grin again too and she helped Astra to sit up, slowly, so that she could get a good look at what she had become.

Astra’s eyes widened, her gaze roaming over the purples and blues and bright yellows and whites. Lucille had made her a constellation, a galaxy, a twinkling array of stars picked out upon the deepest swirls of night.

“Ooh.” Astra’s breath left her in a long, amazed, sigh. “Wow.”

She was, without question, fucking beautiful.

She would go to an entire gallery filled with pictures like that, 3D across the curves of her body; painstaking, blot by pretty blot.

She met Lucille’s gaze.

“Happy birthday,” Lucille said.

She’d known.

“I didn’t get through enough candles, technically,” Lucille continued, “but you can still make a wish. If you like.”

Astra laughed, and dragged her into yet another kiss, another, and another still. She kissed her breathless. She could think of nothing to wish for, in that moment, except what she already had.

The lights above them flickered, before switching back on as the power outage came to an end. Astra blinked against the brightness.

Lucille gave the nape of her neck a reassuring squeeze and pulled back. “Get cleaned up,” she said. “I’ll get dinner on.”

Astra caught her hand, and squeezed it back.

“Thank you,” she replied.

Lucille tossed her a wink, bringing Astra's hand up to her lips and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

She was never going to feel the same lighting candles on a power-cut again.

[lilypadlys]

Growing Pains

Mountain does his best to welcome Phantom as he transitions to life in the ministry. It’s not easy though. The touched starved newbie is having trouble settling in, afraid to ask for comfort and physical affection.

Characters: Phantom, Mountain 

Word Count: 4,110

Rating: General Audiences, SFW

Tags: fluff and a little bit of angst, domestic fluff, cuddles, Phantom is a sleepy little guy

Below the cut or on AO3

“Hmm? Oh hey Bug.” Mountain lowers his book to see Phantom standing in the common room doorway.

The new summon looks around the room nervously. Only when he sees that the room is empty, except for Mountain, does he relax a little. “Hey Mount. Mind if I sit with you?”

“Not at all.” Mountain pats the couch cushion next to him invitingly.

“Thanks.” Phantom slips over and perches on the far edge of the couch. He leaves a significant gap between him and Mountain.

The earth ghoul doesn’t mind, just returns to his book and Phantom settles down.

They sit like that for a while. A comfortable silence only broken by the turning of pages. And soft snoring.

Mountain glances over to see Phantom fast asleep. He’s curled into a tight ball, his arms and tail wrapped around his legs, knees pressed to his chest. He lays his head on the armrest.

Mountain just shakes his head and smiles.

This isn't the first time this has happened. Several times before, Phantom has sought out Mountain when he’s on his own. He then generally proceeds to fall right to sleep, curled up in a corner. Sometimes Mountain is in the common room like now. Sometimes he’s out in the green house, sometimes in the library.

Phantom seems to be integrating well. Everybody adores him. He’s sweet, friendly, and energetic. He’s a whiz at guitar and has been advancing fast.

Mountain has noticed another side to him though. Although he masks it well, Phantom gets easily overwhelmed by highly social settings.

He can mesh incredibly well with the rest of the pack. He’s joined in on movie nights, playing video games with Dew and Swiss, baking with Sunny and Aurora. He even let Cumulus paint his nails.

However, as soon as that activity or moment is over, Phantom quickly becomes scarce. The pack usually finds him hours later, napping in some quiet nook or cranny.

As a result, Mountain is happy that Phantom feels comfortable around him. He never asks or pushes. Just provides a quiet presence that seems to make Phantom feel at ease.

Mountain does his best to wait until Phantom wakes again, not wanting to leave him to wake up on his own. Sometimes he gets pulled away by chores or someone needing something. Fortunately today he’s left alone to read and watch over the sleeping ghoul.

When Phantom finally does stir, he quietly gets up and waves goodbye. Then he wanders off to rejoin the rest of the pack as if he’d been there all day.

Mountain just throws out a soft, “see you later”, as Phantom slips out the door.

-----

A few days later, Mountain is laying out on the lawn. It’s a gorgeous spring day; slightly chilly still in the shade, but delightfully warm in the sun spots.

He’d flopped down onto the soft grass after tending to his plants in the green house. Before he knew it, he’d fallen asleep. He wakes sometime later to feel someone nestled up beside him.

Mountain raises his head from the grass to see a fluffy mop of black hair, intersected by a white stripe, pillowed in the crook of his arm. Phantom sleeps blissfully, eyes closed and a slight smile on his lips. Mountain doesn’t remember Phantom coming over and figures the young ghoul must have shown up after he’d fallen asleep.

Mountain can’t resist the urge to reach over with his free hand and gently brush Phantom’s hair out of his face. He swears the quint leans into his hand, though he doesn’t open his eyes. Encouraged, Mountain begins to run his claws down Phantom’s scalp, lightly scratching back and forth. This time, Phantom’s movement is unmistakable as he rolls over slightly.

Mountain curses, figuring he’s about to wake up. Instead, Phantom only scooches in closer, pressing into his side. Mountain sighs in relief and continues combing through Phantom’s hair.

They stay curled up like that for a while. It was late afternoon when Mountain first laid down; it’s got to be early evening by this point. The sun hovers on the far western side of the sky, painting the heavens pink and orange.

As much as Mountain hates to risk disturbing the sleeping quintessence ghoul, he doesn’t want to sleep out here all night. Nor does he intend to leave Phantom out here to wake up alone.

As gently as possible, Mountain eases out from underneath Phantom, and sits up. He admires the sleeping ghoul. Although he normally sleeps balled up, now he’s stretched out in an effort to make as much physical contact with Mountain as possible.

Phantom whimpers softly at the loss of warmth and begins to knead the air like he's looking for the earth ghoul even in his sleep. Mountain redoubles his efforts to bring Phantom inside with him. He slides his palms under Phantom’s back and legs and carefully scoops him up into his arms. When he stands, the sleeping ghoul doesn’t stir. Only nestles his face into Mountain’s chest.

Mountain carries Phantom all the way up the hill and into the Ministry. He awkwardly leans down to grasp the door handle and pull it open, then catches the door with his foot. Once he successfully maneuvers inside, sideways so as to not bump the doorframe, he makes his way to the ghoul wing.

The common room is empty so Mountain settles Phantom down on the couch in his favorite spot, before sitting down next to him. He resumes petting Phantom's head until the young ghoul finally begins to wake on his own.

His violet and milky white eyes blink open and then squint in confusion as he looks around him.

“Have a good nap?” Mountain asks kindly. “I didn’t think you wanted to sleep outside all night so I brought you inside. I hope that’s okay.”

Phantom ducks his head in embarrassment but says sincerely, “Yeah. Thanks Mount. What time is it?”

“About seven-forty.”

“Shit. I didn’t mean to sleep that long. Have you eaten yet?”

“Not yet. If you’re hungry we can go ahead and head over. There should still be some food left.”

“Okay.”

The pair head over to the kitchens, Phantom pressed up to Mountain’s side the whole way. Only once they enter do they separate.

After grabbing food, they meet up with the rest of the pack and eat together. Mountain watches Phantom all the while. Phantom integrates as well as he always does. Laughing and smiling, joining in on telling stories and light rough housing. Underneath it all though, Phantom’s fatigue is just barely masked.

After they’ve all eaten, Aether proposes a movie night. Mountain barely catches Phantom’s frown before his amicable smile slips back into place and he adds his own movie suggestions to the fray. Everyone crowds into the common room and starts to settle in. Before things can get started however, Mountain excuses himself.

“Sorry guys. I’m really wiped tonight. I’ll catch the next one.”

The others tease gently about Mountain’s early bedtime but otherwise bid him goodnight.

Before stepping out into the hall, Mountain catches Phantom’s gaze.

The ghoul is nestled in one of the arm chairs, a smile on his face but the lashing of his tail betraying his discomfort.

Mountain tips his head towards the hall before raising his brow.

Phantom nods pleadingly.

Mountain smiles, makes a beckoning motion, and then heads to his room. Making sure to prop the door open, he settles down on his bed. He doesn’t have to wait long before Phantom pokes his black and white striped mane in.

“Is it okay if I sleep in here with you tonight.” He asks, as if Mountain hadn’t already offered to let him do just that.

“Of course Bug. My door’s always open.”

“Okay.” He chirps, hopping up on the bed and making himself comfortable. Rather than curl into a ball at the far side of the bed, Phantom snuggles up right against Mountain.

Mountain chuffs. “Well aren’t you a cuddle bug.” He pulls his blankets up over them both before wrapping his arms around the quintessence ghoul. “Comfy? Warm enough?”

“Yeah.” Phantom sighs happily.

“Lamp on or off?”

“On if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

“Thanks. Night Mount.”

“Sweet dreams Bug.”

-----

When Mountain wakes in the morning, he’s surprised to see Phantom already awake. Sometime in the night, Phantom had snuggled even closer, resting his head on Mountain’s chest.

“Good morning.” Mountain says between yawns. “Sleep well?”

Phantom looks up and hums lazily. “Yeah.”

Mountain nuzzles his forehead. “Good.” He’d be perfectly content to lay here all morning, letting Phantom use him as a pillow, but somewhere across the abbey, bells begin to chime. Mountain humphs quietly at the reminder that they really should be getting up for Mass.

It’s Phantom who disentangles himself first. “I guess we should get going.”

Mountain reluctantly nods his head. “Right behind you.”

The two separate, Phantom running to his own room to change into his uniform. When Mountain sees him again in the chapel, Phantom is back to mingling with the others exuberantly.

Mountain watches Phantom from afar all day. He expects the quintessence ghoul to need to retreat to nap at some point and he wants to be ready to provide that comforting space.

Instead, Phantom seems even more lively than usual. He’s already spritely and energetic most days. However today, Mountain realizes; Phantom lacks the underlying fatigue that normally tempers his energy. He seems so at home, laughing and chatting with everyone.

Mountain is glad to see it, happy that his pack mate is feeling rested and not hindered by exhaustion. Mountain is sure he hasn’t seen Phantom this cheery in all of his short time at the abbey.

That night, when the ghouls gather for game night in the common room, Phantom still is going strong. He’s playing a lively game monopoly with Dew, Rain and Swiss. The ghoulettes are doing a puzzle and Mountain is playing Uno with Aether.

Mountain means at some point to ask the young ghoul if he wants to sleep with him again tonight, but he gets distracted when Rain plants himself in his lap.

“Hey Rainy? What's up?” Mountain looks down from his hand of Uno cards to the ghoul in his lap.

“I went bankrupt.” He pouts before turning to Aether. “Things aren’t going well for Dew. The board is gonna get flipped soon.”

Aether chuffs. “Haha okay.”

Mountain and Aether resume their game and manage to get a few more turns in before shouting and laughing come from the corner of the room. Sure enough, the game board, little houses, cards, and player tokens go flying, and a grumpy fire ghoul comes stomping over.

“C’mere Firefly.” Aether waves, tossing down his cards. Sorry Mount. Guess I’m done for now.

“It’s fine.” Mountain smiles, dropping his own cards. “Now I can do this.” He lowers his hands around Rain’s waist and proceeds to tickle him.

“Hey! Stop it-haha!”

“That’s what you get for sticking your tail up my shirt, you little shit.” Mountain laughs. Before the game had been interrupted, Rain had been teasing Mountain with his tail, sneaking the spade under the hem of his shirt and running over his chest.

Distracted by the impromptu wrestling match with Rain, Mountain misses as Phantom slips by and disappears down the hall.

-----

Mountain ends up spending the night with Rain; their tickle fight turning less than innocent, before they both fall to sleep exhausted. Only at breakfast the next morning does Mountain realize he forgot to check on the young quintessence ghoul. He winces as he sees Phantom.

He’s seated at the ghoul’s kitchen table. He’s making conversation and laughing, but his fatigue is back. His posture is slouched and he has the beginnings of dark circles under his eyes. He keeps having to fight to stifle yawns. When he notices Mountain’s eyes on him, he waves cheerfully but Mountain can’t help but feel bad.

Mountain sits across from him, the seats either side of Phantom occupied by Swiss and Aether. Rain settles in next to Mountain, leaning into his side. When Mountain doesn’t reciprocate with an arm around him or a purr, Rain looks up and paws at the earth ghoul’s shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” He mouths.

“Bug.” Mountain whispers back.

Rain glances over at the quintessence ghoul then back to Mountain with a concerned expression.

“Is he sick? He doesn’t look well.”

Mountain considers how to explain the pattern he’s noticed with Phantom’s napping habits when he’s interrupted by Cumulus announcing that the pancakes are ready. He has to wait until after breakfast before he’s able to pull Rain aside in the hallway.

“So what’s wrong with Ant?” Rain asked worriedly. Over breakfast, he’d picked up on the fatigue plaguing the quint ghoul.

“I don’t think he’s getting enough sleep.” Mountain explains. “You know how he’s constantly napping?”

Rain nods. “Yeah, I found him asleep in the practice room storage closet once. He said he was looking for spare guitar strings but then he didn’t come back for like half an hour. I found him curled up in the back corner, out cold.”

“He’s always falling asleep during the day, and in the oddest places. Whenever we go looking for him, he’s never in his room.” That was indeed the case. After about the first week of Phantom’s time at the abbey, everyone gave up checking his room when looking for him. He was simply never there during the day.

“Do you think he’s not adjusting alright? He hasn’t said anything but he’s shy and pretty new so he might not feel able to speak up for himself”

Mountain hums thoughtfully. “I think you’re onto something.”

“So what do we do?”

“We help him whatever way we can. I’m going to go check on him and see if I can get him to open up and tell me what’s wrong.”

“Okay. I’ll let the other’s know and see if they’ve noticed anything. I think I saw Ant slip away after breakfast so you might have your work cut out for you finding him.”

“Alright. I’d better get started then.”

The two ghouls split, going about their respective tasks. Mountain can hear Rain heading into the common room and talking to the others. The earth ghoul heads away from the noise and begins to sweep every quiet nook and cranny of the ghoul wing. When he doesn’t find the quint, Mountain widens the search radius to the rest of the abbey buildings and finally the outer grounds. It takes the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, but he eventually finds him. Phantom has wedged himself under a work table in the green house.

The ghoul is sitting in his normal sleeping position, knees pressed to his chest and arms and tail wrapped around himself. Mountain expects to find him asleep but instead he’s wide awake. And crying. His bunched up frame shakes as he sobs.

“Oh Bug.” Mountain coos. “What’s wrong?”

Phantom startles, his head jolting up before cracking into the underside of the table. Whimpers of pain add to his sobs as he scrunches up tighter, rubbing his head.

“Satanas.” Mountain grumbles at causing the ghoul more pain, even if it was accidental. He sinks down to his knees so he’s level with the crying ghoul and tries again. “I’m sorry I startled you. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Phantom slowly raises his head. His eyes are red from crying and his cheeks tear stained. Without a word, he shuffles out from under the table and presses himself up against Mountain’s side.

“Hey love.” He purrs. “Need a hug?” Mountain has barely opened his arms before Phantom is crawling into his lap. He presses his face into the earth ghoul’s chest.

“It’s okay, Bug. Let it out.” Mountain rubs his back and scratches gently at his scalp. “I’m here.”

Phantom’s sobs slowly begin to ebb. His tense frame relaxes and his breaths become slower and deeper. Mountain looks down and realizes that the young ghoul, worn out from fatigue and crying, is fast asleep.

Like he did a couple nights before, Mountain gently carries Phantom back to the abbey, this time opting to bring him to his room. He settles the sleeping ghoul on his bed and curls in next to him. Once Phantom is settled he sends a text to Rain.

Mountain: Found him. Bug was in the green house. Brought him to my room.

Rain: Okay, on my way over.

Rain knocks a few minutes later.

“Come in.” Mountain calls softly.

Rain enters and carefully shuts the door behind him. “How is he?” He whispers.

Mountain gestures down at the sleeping ghoul in his arms. “Better now I think.”

Rain nods before coming over to the bed. As carefully as possible, he slides under the covers and curls up to spoon Phantom’s back. The two of them hold the quintessence ghoul, as they speak in hushed tones. Mountain tells Rain about how he found Phantom in the greenhouse.

“Poor thing. I checked with the others and yeah. They noticed something was up too but didn’t want to push. He’s always so skittish whenever anyone asks how he’s doing.”

“I don’t want to force the issue either but we need to know what's going on so we can help.”

“Yeah. Let’s let him rest for now though. He needs it.”

“Okay.” Mountain agrees. Soon though, they would be getting to the bottom of this.

-----

When Phantom wakes up, he seems slightly surprised to see that Rain is also present. He doesn’t say anything though. Just shyly thanks Mountain for coming to check on him, assures them both that he’s fine, just tired, and he disappears out the door. Mountain and Rain let him leave but they watch him closely for the rest of the evening. The rest of the pack does as well, clued in.

Phantom is smiling and laughing like usual. However, his underlying fatigue is so undeniably present that everyone wonders why they didn’t notice or say something sooner. In response, they all try their best to be gentle with him. All pet names and gentle touches. Just trying to help him even if they don’t know how.

Mountain is finally the one to bridge the uncomfortable subject when Phantom curls into bed with him that night.

“Hey Bug. Are you adjusting to life topside alright?”

Phantom blinks at the question no one had yet to ask. He goes to wave it off. Say he’s fine and doing great. But the look in Mountain’s face; full of care, and love, and concern. He can’t lie to him.

“I-I…I don’t know.” He says quietly. He can’t make eye contact, staring at the rumpled sheets instead.

“It’s okay if not. There’s nothing wrong if-”

“I can’t sleep.” Phantom interrupts suddenly. His eyes go wide as he does but he can’t stop.

The dam breaks.

“I can’t…I can’t fucking sleep!” He sobs, tears welling up. “I have these nightmares. And I hate being alone but I also can’t find the energy to keep up with everyone. I-I…why me? Why did they summon me? Sooner or later they're going to realize I’m not good enough and-and…I don’t want to go back.” He gasps and hiccups, tears falling freely now. “I don’t want to go back. I…I…please?” He grips fistfuls of the sheets as if they’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Oh Bug.” Mountain’s heart breaks as he wraps his arms around the little ghoul. “No one is going to send you back there. No one. I won’t let them.” He growls protectively, holding Phantom tighter.

“Bu-but-”

“No one.” Mountain can’t help but snarl, anger building at whatever happened to make Phantom feel this way.

Phantom flinches at the sound and Mountain winces immediately softening his tone to a purr. He begins to rub the quintessence ghoul’s back and brush the tears off his freckled cheeks.

“You’re here because you’re meant to be here. You’re a part of our pack now and that’s not going to change. I’m so sorry we weren’t there for you from the beginning. That’s our failing not yours. But we’re here for you now. Whatever you want or need, we’re here. We all adore you so much because of who you are. No one could ever replace you.”

Phantom sniffles. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Of course Ant.” Both ghouls look up to Rain standing in the doorway. The door is pushed further ajar.

“I’m sorry we didn’t check on you sooner sweetheart.” Swiss files in.

The ghoulettes follow close behind and dog pile Phantom. “We love you so much!” Aurora says as Cirrus, Cumulus, and Sunny nod and chirp their agreement.

“And if anyone tries to doubt you, I’ll make them regret it.” Dew promises as he and Aether bring up the rear.

“He will too.” Aether chuckles. “You’re amazing Ant. Not just on stage, which you're spectacular at by the way. But just for being your wonderful self.”

Phantom wants to shrink under the sudden attention. He hates that everyone has to see him like this. Deal with him like this. He must be annoying them. Inconveniencing them. But then, would they be here if they didn’t care? He fights to catch his breath enough to speak.

“T-thanks you guys. I love you too.” And he means it.

Even with the stress of filling Aether’s shoes on stage, sleepless nights, and his whole world getting literally turned on its head. His time with the pack is the most alive he's ever felt. He’s only known them for a few months but he doesn’t know what he’d do without them. To know they feel that same about him. To know they love him just as deeply. It doesn’t make all his insecurities disappear but he can ignore them for a while.

The pack scoops Phantom up, blankets and all, and brings him to the common room. There they all curl up with him at the center, surrounded in warmth and love. That night, he has one of his first truly restful nights of sleep topside.

-----

Waking rested is still a feeling Phantom is getting used to. He loves it though; not spending his days in a half asleep haze, sneaking in naps if and when possible just to function. If anything, he’s become even more rambunctious than anyone thought possible. Nobody minds though; more than happy to see him finally thriving.

Everybody immediately gets to work helping make things more comfortable for him. They start with his room. Phantom admits that the reason he’s so tired and can’t sleep is that he hates his room. It’s too dark, and bare, and lonely. He feels too isolated in there. The immediate fix is for Phantom to room with the other ghouls, swapping rooms every night. It allows everyone to spend quality time with him one at a time and really get to know him without the noise and commotion of everyone all at once.

As he rotates rooms though, Mountain gets to work on making Phantom’s room into a comfortable safe space. Enlisting Copia’s help, as well as his access to the Ministry’s credit card, Mountain organizes a trip to buy furniture and decorations for Phantom. Copia is more than happy to help, similarly ashamed he wasn’t there for Phantom earlier on. He personally escorts and supervises Phantom, Mountain, and Rain in their shopping as well as helping assemble the furniture and decorating.

To Phantom’s delight, in the couple of days it took to convince Phantom to go furniture shopping and then to complete the purchases, Aurora, with the rest of the ghoulettes help, has painted a gorgeous mural over his bedroom ceiling of a starry night sky, complete with glow in the dark paint for the stars. He can’t stop thanking her for several days afterwards.

With new furniture and decorations, Phantom has to agree he feels much more at home. He appreciates though, that each ghoul takes turns rooming with him now to help break in the new space. The scent of all his packmates in the room is comforting and makes him feel less alone. With time, he’s able to see his room as a quiet sanctuary from the noise and chaos of the Ministry.

He’s also gained enough confidence to ask for comfort when he wants or needs it. His favorite place to sleep is still the common room in a ghoul cuddle pile, but his room no longer feels so lonely. It takes time, but he finally feels at home.

[headkiss]

Hi Anna, I'm a huge fan of your Steve writings:)) How about Steve x introvert!reader where they have a painting date night at one of their homes?🫶

hiii thank you so much!!! i hope u like it!! | 0.7k so fluffy

Steve is a romantic to the bone. When you first met him, he would’ve denied it to make himself cooler, but now, he wears it around you like a badge of honor.

He’s also ridiculously understanding.

Work today had been a lot, the bakery on main unusually busy with only two of you working. Not to mention you’d been working the front counter, when you’d much rather be in the kitchen making cookies and frosting cupcakes.

Drained is one way to put the way you’re feeling, the battery for socializing running lower and lower until it’s basically empty by the time you’re home.

Steve calls you like he knows exactly when you’ll be getting into your room, and you pick up despite your tiredness. There’ll always be room for him, you think.

“Hey, angel,” his voice loosens your tight muscles just a bit. “We still good for tonight?”

Back to him being a romantic, Steve insists that you go on at least one date a week, and it’s something that goes to show how much he cares about you and your relationship. He also calls you beforehand to check if you’re up to it every time.

You wince a little as you answer, feeling guilty for being tired and for wanting to stay in. “Would it be okay if we didn’t? I’m so sorry, work was a lot and-”

“None of that,” he cuts you off, “how about you just come here? Just me and you?”

“Thank you, Steve. I’ll be there in a bit, okay?”

“See you soon.”

Soon is the time it takes for a shower, getting dressed in sweats, and the drive over to his place. As you step out of your car, you worry that he had something special planned for today’s date, that you ruined that, but his beaming smile when he opens the door is enough to erase your worries.

“Hi,” he says, tossing an arm over your shoulders and tilting his head to push a kiss into your hair. “You okay?”

“Better now.”

Your arms wrap themselves around his waist, and though it’s awkward to walk through the house this way, neither of you make a move to pull away.

Steve leads you into the dining room, and your eyes well up just a little (maybe a lot) at what you see. He’s got a tarp laid over the table, two canvases set up on small easels right next to each other, and paint and brushes scattered over the table. Such a romantic.

“I thought maybe we could have our date here instead,” he tells you, rocking on his feet. Steve knows you better than anyone, and he knows that it can take a lot for you to be in social settings for a long time. He doesn’t care; the most important part to him is spending time with you, anyway.

So, he’s had some ideas for at home dates saved up for you. By the way your arms squeeze him tighter and you murmur his name, all delicate and surprised, he feels pretty good about it.

“Where did you get all of this? It’s barely been an hour since you called.”

“A magician never reveals his secrets.”

You lean up and kiss his cheek, the words ‘thank you’ pushed into his skin.

“Well,” he starts, his cheeks warming at your affection, “you wanna paint something?”

“Absolutely.”

It’s easy to get into the swing of things, dollops of paint squeezed out onto the tarp to use, cups of muddled water used to clean your brushes, and the sort of ease you’ve only ever felt around Steve.

You don’t know how he seems to understand exactly what you need without saying anything, how he accepts every bit of you without complaint, but you’re eternally thankful for it nonetheless.

He knows you the best, and he loves you the way only he could. In this big, huge way that’s in everything he does, even the way he paints the tip of your nose pink.

By the end of the painting session, you’re left giggling at Steve’s piece of art that looks like something a proud parent would put on their fridge.

“Whatever,” he says, fighting a smile at the brightness in your eyes and the laugh you’re hiding behind your hand. “It’s called abstract. Guess you just don’t have the eye for it.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah,” he cups your cheek in his warm palm, rubbing away a splotch of paint—one that he probably put there—with his thumb.

Your long shift feels ages away, long forgotten and replaced by paint stains on your clothes, a mess that neither of you can be bothered to clean up, and the all-encompassing feeling of being with Steve, of being known and loved by him.

[weministertomonsters]

Sunshine & The Beast

You're all bubbles and sunshine as you walk into the Pleasure House several minutes late for your appointment. Madame Blanc scowls and flaps her hand urgently. You're so late that she doesn't have time to scold you.

"Room 6!" The vampiress hisses.

You nod and make your way to the room. You take a deep breath so you can look as professional as a cucumber on ice. Cool and unaffected.

"Hi! I'm your adventurer for today!" You say cheerfully as you push open the door and step in, letting it click shut behind you.

The monster sitting on one of the couches in the seating area blinks.

"What?"

"You know, because with monsters you never know what you're working with so it's always an adventure..." You trail off when you realize he's not getting it.

"I'm technically supposed to say "I'm your caretaker for the day" but I think that sounds lame," you admit.

He snorts and stands up.

"Coming here was a mistake," he says.

"Whoa, whoa! Slow down, Fluffy."

He shoots you a glare. "Who are you calling fluffy?" He demands.

"I'm sorry. Your fur just looks so soft and poofy. It's got to take you an eternity to brush out," you say.

He blinks again, like everything you say surprises him. He narrows his eyes, probably wondering if this is a prank.

"Geez, I started off on the wrong foot," you sigh. "I'm sorry. Again."

"Why are you dressed like that?"

"Um?" You glance down at the shirt you're wearing.

It's got a very artistic-looking cupcake painted on it. Your niece made it in one of her after-school classes, and you treasure it more than any other piece of clothing you own.

"I was running late, as I'm sure you've noticed. My cat gave birth early this morning! It was magical."

He raises a shaggy eyebrow and glances at the door.

"Wait!" You yelp. "Don't go. I, um, really need to get paid today."

"When my friend booked me an appointment this wasn't what I expected. Shouldn't you be on your knees sucking my dick right about now?" He says, crossing his arms.

"Uh, yes. I'm just off my stride this morning. I had way too much coffee trying to stay awake in the wee hours of the morning. It was worth it though!"

"Are you on drugs?" He demands.

Your cheeks warm. "Dang it, am I that buzzed?"

He steps closer and grabs your arm to hold you in place. Then he leans down and sniffs the pulse point in your neck.

"You're clean," he announces, pulling away. "It's just coffee."

"Like I said," you say sheepishly. "Take a seat."

"I'm not sure whether I should trust myself with you. I think you're shady," he replies seriously, and you burst out laughing.

"You look like you could snap me in half," you smirk. "I don't know what you're worried about."

"You're too cheerful."

"Since when was that a crime?" You huff.

"This is exactly how an enemy of mine would act to get my guard down-"

"Ugh, sit, will you? Relax." You push him gently.

He sits down reluctantly, gripping the armrest of the couch so tightly that you hear the wood creak.

You put your hands on his shoulders first, to make sure he's okay with your touch. Still stiff, but he doesn't pull away. He's covered in fur from head to toe, something vaguely human with huge shoulders and a broad chest. You reach up to touch his horns gently. They're small and curl backward, barely noticeable in his thick mane.

"You look cursed," you tell him.

"I'd be offended if you were wrong, but yes. It's a generational curse," he replies, looking up at you.

"I've been with a lot of monsters, I'm becoming a pro at recognizing the different types," you say with a grin. "Would it put you off if I kiss you?"

His eyes roll slightly. "Good luck. With my tusks, it's practically impossible-"

You cut his rambling off with a kiss. You have to lean forward to do that, because of the way he's positioned on the couch. To spare your neck from the awkward angle, you make the executive decision to straddle his lap. His hands automatically come up to your hips, his blunt claws digging in slightly.

When you pull away, he's starry-eyed and dazed.

"How did you do that?" He demands.

"Where there's a will, there's a way!" You say cheerfully.

You move slightly and feel his arousal underneath you and give him a wide-eyed look.

"Dude. That was like, a ten-second kiss."

"It's not like I have an eager host of lovers lining up to get into my bed," he grumbles, looking away.

"If you fix up your attitude, I'm sure there will be."

"I don't have an attitude!" He snaps.

"Okay, Mr. Sunshine," you laugh.

"Shut up," he grumbles before leaning in to kiss you this time.

He's very careful because of his tusks. Despite his misgivings, there's plenty of room to kiss him. His lips are juicier than yours, which is something you'll be jealous about later, but right now they're yours to nip at.

Your greedy hands press against his chest, squeezing handfuls of his pecs. Pretty handy that he does not need shirts. His nipples are right there, covered by soft whorls of fur. He grunts when you pinch them gently.

"Maybe I was hasty," he pants, tipping his head back. "About wanting to leave earlier."

"Really now? I've only just started with you," you tease, reaching down to cup him through his pants.

"What's that?" You say with wicked delight. "You've got two... Oh, I'm getting a treat today!"

He doesn't say anything but the heated stare he gives you tells you that he appreciates your excitement.

You shimmy out of his lap and drop onto your knees on the soft carpet, squeezing his thigh.

"Let's see what I have to work with," you grin heatedly, undoing his belt and making quick work of his zipper.

You're so impatient that it takes a few good tugs to get his pants to slip off his haunches and hindfeet. For a second you wonder if he has toe beans like a cat, but you decide not to risk ruining the moment by asking.

"I don't normally say this, but Dear Lord! Whatever witch cursed you certainly gave you a blessing here," you say.

"I don't think so. They're too fucking big and it's hard to find underwear that fits," he says flatly.

"Learn to take a compliment," you advise him. "Can I touch you?"

He blows out a breath. "Please."

You need both hands, one for each cock. They look pretty much human but on steroids. You're awed because this isn't a usual occurrence, not even in a Pleasure House like this one.

Your mouth is pretty much watering at the sight. You lean forward and take one into your mouth, your lips hugging the tip. He hisses and arches his back like he's in pain.

"Oops, did I catch you with my teeth?" You say innocently, blowing a puff of air over the saliva-slick tip.

"No. Sensitive," he hisses again. "Don't do that, fuck."

"Is that too much for you to handle? Poor thing. I had so much planned," you say in mock disappointment.

You don't give him a warning the next time you engulf his cock with your mouth and you have the pleasure of hearing him whimper. Your lips curl into a smirk at that soft, vulnerable sound. You like hearing big, scary monsters make sounds like that.

So you endeavor to force more out of him, switching between both of his cocks to drive him crazy, using your hands and mouth to massage as much of him as you can, teasing the sensitive underside with the tip of your tongue.

He squirms and growls so loud that the chair vibrates. He seems a little touched-starved too, melting when your hands squeeze his thighs. His hips shift subtly as he struggles to hold himself back. It's probably for the best because lust-hazed monsters have a hard time controlling themselves and that would wreak havoc on your throat and jaw. You're struggling enough as it is already.

His eyes, which have been closed, shoot open suddenly. His pupils are small, his expression a little crazed.

"I want to taste you," he demands. "Get on the bed?"

"What?" You say breathlessly.

Usually, your customer is the only one getting taken care of. While your job turns you on, it's against protocol to pleasure yourself unless it's the customer's request.

And except for a vampire customer who liked to feed from your thigh (which was almost as good as an orgasm), no one else has ever offered.

"Are you sure? This is all about you."

"Trade places with me. I'm not asking you again," he growls.

"Okay, okay!" You laugh breathlessly but damn if that didn't make you twice as wet.

You scramble onto the bed, your weight dimpling the soft mattress.

"How do you want me?" You pant.

"On your back. I want to see your face," he says, dipping the mattress even further as he gets on.

You raise your hips for him and he drags your shorts and underwear down in one fell swoop. You remove your shirt and toss it onto the sidetable. He pushes your legs open and you prop yourself up on your elbows so you can watch him.

The first stroke of his tongue is heavenly agony. You stifle a squeal, your hand coming down to tug at his mane.

"Just like that," you encourage.

He's an apt learner, and when he figures out exactly how you like it, he doesn't let up.

"Wait, wait," you beg as the momentum becomes too much. "I think I'm gonna pass out."

"I don't think so. You didn't stop when I asked you," he says triumphantly, the pad of his thumb rolling over your clit. "I want you to come undone."

"I'm supposed to be giving, not taking," you argue.

"Who says you're taking anything? I like the taste of you on my tongue."

"But-"

"Shut up," he says pleasantly, his voice muffled as he presses his mouth against you again.

You bit your lip and clutch the pillow. It's actually been a while since someone other than yourself made you come. Just as you're about to tip into a whirlwind of pleasure, he stops. You almost kick him in the face before you remember yourself.

"What the hell?" You say, about to sit up. "Why did you stop-"

He pushes you down with his body weight. "I'd use my fingers but there's no way around my claws," he says huskily. "I changed my mind. I want you to come undone while I'm inside you. I want to feel it."

You let out a hard breath. "Okay. But hurry. I almost attacked you, dude. Not cool."

He snorts out a laugh. "Your weirdness might grow on me," he says. "Which one do you want?"

Oh...

"The lower one," you say. "I think it's smaller."

Jokes on you, because as soon as he begins to press against your hole, you realize maybe you underestimated his size.

"Fuck," you whisper.

He pauses, his arms bracketed around your head, his face so close to yours. "Does it hurt?"

You shake your head and pull him closer so he doesn't see you grimace as he slides in another inch. It doesn't hurt, but it does stretch you quite a bit. But you're yet to lose a single devil's tango, so you power through.

"Damn," you murmur when he stops abruptly. "Where do you end and where do I begin?"

"Who cares," is his response as he pulls out slowly.

The next time he thrusts in, it's a little easier. He buries his face against your neck, breathing in your scent. Soon you forget all about the stretch. What you want is more. Suddenly you have a craving to get fucked so hard that you feel it tomorrow. You reach down to take his first cock in your hand, circling it so that each time he thrusts into you, it slides through your fingers.

It's a little amusing to think you're jacking him off while he's fucking you. You angle his cock so that it slides through your folds and bumps against your clit just so. Your body's response is to clamp down on him, and he hisses, his thrusts speeding up.

You're so wet and he's so hard and you fit together so perfectly. He hits all the right spots that have you melting in his arms until you're as boneless as a ragdoll. He takes over, holding you in place with your legs pressed up so he can slide in even deeper.

Good lord, your back is going to ache tomorrow, but you don't care. You're moaning shamelessly now, aware of nothing but his weight on top of you, how full you are, and the way his cocks throb inside and against you.

"I think I'm going to come," you whimper, gripping his mane and tugging at it.

"Go on," he huffs, his hips accentuating his command, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "I'm right behind you. Can I come inside you?"

"Please, oh yes please!" You exclaim. "Don't you dare pull out."

His eyes brighten, even as his lip curls rather scarily. You bite down hard on your lip as you come, struggling to contain yourself. Your orgasm is so forceful that your entire body jerks even though you're pinned under his weight. He shoves his cock as far as it can go, growling so loud that you feel it rattle through your body.

His first cock spurts molten heat on your belly, and it drips down the side, soaking the sheets. You love the way his hips jerk with the aftershocks and pull him close so you can feel everything, even the way his heart thumps in his chest.

"I almost didn't stop myself from biting you," he says, swiping his thumb over the flesh between your shoulder and neck, the prime biting spot.

"I take shots to prevent any unwanted consequences, we all do," you tell him. "You can bite me next time."

His eyes crinkle in amusement. "Next time," he says, and it sounds like a promise.

•─────✧─────•

I was living for their banter. 👌

[ravenssilver]

Maybe something with Phantom getting left out of dinner in the beginning? Started with someone intentionally or accidentally leaving his plate off, and he's too nervous to ask why he doesn't get one when Aurora does. He eventually stops coming to dinner, and someone starts to notice just how sickly, and dizzy the smaller ghoul looks because he's too afraid to ask for any food or take any yet

unfortunately this is is part one of two :( i got super caught up in writing a whole mini story, and i felt bad for taking so long, so here this is!

1.4k words of phantom being neglected because i can’t get enough of the heartbreak

cw: mention of body issues, phantom is nervous about being around the pack, small scene of phantom vomiting, i guess some of this could be seen as an ed? the ask is a good wrap of cws!

also, ‘quint’ is used in this instead phantom or aeon, and will likely be that way in the next part :)

under the cut, if you please<3

He didn’t have a name. At least, he hadn’t come up with one.

The others referred to him as Quint, just to get names straight among him and his summon buddy, Aurora.

He stared at the ceiling as he laid in bed, his eyebrows furrowed.

Aurora had a name. Did she pick it out? Or was it Cirrus and Cumulus? Why didn’t the others pick out a name for him?

He sat up with a sigh, feeling hungry.

He glamoured himself as best he could, only having enough of a grasp on the ability to hide the different color splotches in his skin.

As he walked out of his room and to the common area, he stared down at his arm which was buzzing with his quintessence induced glamor.

Aurora’s markings were beautiful. The subtle yet bright flows of pinks and purples and blues blended perfectly with her skin. The small swipes of green made her look like a perfect painting that had hours of detailed brush strokes put into it.

His markings just looked like splotches. Random globs of paint flicked at a canvas in a half-assed attempt to make art.

He wondered if Aurora ever tried to glamor away the markings of her skin. Surely not, as she was gorgeous. The colors of her skin showed her personality and her connection with confidence and self love. Her mental state flowed healthily through her skin, the beauty of security blending in with her vessel.

He sighed and dropped his arm back down to his side, trying to focus on his pack’s laughter just around the corner and the scraping of forks against plates.

His steps slowed for a moment.

Dinner had started?

Confused, the newly summoned ghoul sped up only to slow down again. He peaked around a corner, seeing his pack at the dining room table. All the chairs were full, all plates had someone behind them and were stacked with the delicious cooking of Swiss and Mountain.

Every chair was full. Every plate was stacked.

There was no space for him.

A little ball of anxiety formed in his stomach, making his quintessence spark. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he stepped around the corner and shuffled to the kitchen to fix himself a plate.

Though, he was quick to realize all the food prepared was on the table.

Mountain and Swiss had prepared a feast in celebration for the pack’s first dinner together. Dew and Rain had just returned from a small trip away with Copia for business, of course everyone would want to celebrate.

He looked at Dewdrop and Rain. He took in their appearances, memorizing his first in person encounter with them as he was simply used to seeing them over FaceTime.

His eyes traveled to Swiss and Mountain as he set his plate back in the cupboard.

Maybe they were just swept up in the joy of being reunited with their partners and that’s why they forgot to prepare a plate for him.

He nodded to himself and snuck out of the dining room.

That’s okay. He can eat leftovers tonight and he’ll have a plate tomorrow.

He sighed as he brought his fifth night of leftovers to his room. It was long after dinner, and it was long since the others had retreated to their rooms.

Tomorrow, he told himself, I’ll have a plate tomorrow.

He knew, deep down, that he had been forgotten. Of course he knew. Twice was an accident, a coincidence, maybe. Three times, if you had self respect, was a pattern.

But for the young quint, it was an accident.

It was an accident just like the fourth time, and now, this time.

He slowly ate his potatoes, his churning stomach fighting against every bite he took. He was lost in his thoughts, off in his own world of anxiety and the pain of knowing he was being left out of his own pack.

He hadn’t been able to keep food down when he realized that he had been forgotten. Every night he would eat a meal long after dinner, only to be bent over a toilet not long after.

He celebrated every bite he took and could swallow, having not been able to get this far the night before.

Though, his food was quick to come right back up when he heard Rain’s laughter in the next room over. He tossed his plate down and rushed to his bathroom, which wasn’t helpful since it was right next to Swiss’ room, which Rain was in.

He hurled into the toilet as Rain’s laughter continued, now accompanied by Dew and Swiss’. And once his stomach had no more food to send back up, it sent its own acid instead.

He felt like he was dying. He was light headed, his body was trembling, and his throat burned and felt like it was closing up. He sobbed as he flushed the toilet, struggling to close the lid due to how shaky he was.

He knew Swiss, Dew, and Rain couldn’t hear him over the sounds of their laughter and Swiss’ record player. He knew that he hadn’t bonded enough with Aurora, Cirrus, Cumulus, or Mountain for them to feel his strife.

That just made him even more sick.

He gave up on even going to dinner a week ago.

He also gave up on leftovers after Swiss and Mountain started cooking smaller portions after having a conversation about how they always had “too much leftovers.”

He sighed as he pulled on a shirt that was too big for him. He thought it was the shirt Swiss had given him when he was summoned, but after staring down at it for a few moments he realized that it was his shirt.

A shirt he had bought with his own allowance money from Copia.

Why is it so big? Did the dryer stretch it? He asked himself, messing with fabric for a few more moments before he left it alone, opening his door and leaving his room for practice.

He sighed to himself as he walked into the practice room early, seeing Copia sitting in a chair as he waited for the ghouls.

“Ah, hello, Quint.” Copia smiled at him as he looked up. “Hello…” He choked out, not realizing his voice was so hoarse. Copia’s eyebrows furrowed and he stood, watching as the new ghoul struggled more than usual to pick up the Fantomen.

“Are you alright…? You look, how shall I say… pale? Worn out?” Copia asked, looking concerned for his ghoul.

The quintessence ghoul looked up, apparently a bit too fast for his body’s liking. His head spun and he stumbled back slightly, eliciting a slight exclamation of surprise from Copia. The ghoul stumbled back into a chair and sat ridged for a moment before sloppily acting like he had meant to fall.

“I’m fine.” He stated, his shaky fingers doing a run up the A string.

Copia stared at him for a moment, a bad feeling swirling around in his stomach.

“You will tell me if you are not, yes?” Copia asked, worried about his ghoul. “Yes, Papa,” the small quint nodded, shaking out his hands to try and make his trembling go away.

Copia’s frowned deepened as he went to say more, only to be cut off by the loud clamor of the rest of his ghouls crowding into the practice room.

Copia sighed, knowing the conversation would have to be put up on a shelf for the time being.

“Dewdrop.”

The fire ghoul turned around as Copia called his name. He watched his pack slow down for a moment, only to be reassured with a soft smile from their Papa that Dew hadn’t done anything wrong.

Dew watched as the pack nodded and walked out of the practice room, Quint following behind and slipping out of the room just before Copia called for him.

The fourth Papa sighed deeply, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Is everything alright, Papa?” Dew asked, sensing Copia’s worry. And though it wasn’t far off from the man’s usual demeanor, Dew could tell this was different.

“No.” Copia sighed, knowing he had to be blunt. “I am worried for our young Quintessence. Have you noticed anything off about him?” Copia asked.

Dew’s eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head, going to say something, only to realize just how much of a ghost the new quintessence had been.

“I… I haven’t seen much of him at all, actually. He’s never shown up for dinner and he stays in his room all the time.” Dew responded, now realizing where Copia’s worry was coming from.

“Keep an eye on him, yes?” Copia requested. Dew gave a curt nod and walked out of the practice room, quick to catch up with his pack.

[sturniolo04]

Nails-C.S.

Bf!Chris x Gf!Shy!Fem!Reader

Summary: in which Bella gets her nail done professionally for the first and is nervous to show her boyfriend (Chris).

A/N: If you don't like the preadded name in my stories, you can either add your own name or not read it; it's up to you :)

*super short*

It was a well known fact that Bella was not big on being a huge girly girl. Dont get me wrong she is fully a girl and gets her time of the month like every other girl in the world and still gets her daily dose of mood swings and sass. So when Chris starting dating Bella, he knew that she wasn't fully into the art of getting her nails done and things like that, he knew she like to be simple.

Which brings you to now, Bella is currently sitting in her car in the driveway of her boyfriends shared house with his brothers Matt and Nick, as she is nervously bouncing her leg up and down debating on if this decision was a good idea. If you are wondering what decision she decided to make well that's simple, bella decided to get her nails done professionally at a salon for the first time to try something new, She had been doing a little more things on the girly side which was definitely out of her comfort zone and chris noticed this. Bella and Chris had been dating at this point for half a year (6 months) and you were absolutely scared out of your mind to just show your boyfriend your nails, asking yourself would he even like them or would think they are ugly maybe he would hate you for it and prefers your simple look you go for on a daily. After taking a deep breath out you didn't even realize you were holding in, you get out of the car and make you way into the house, down the stairs to chris' room with your hands in yours (his) fresh love hoodie sleeves to hide you freshly manicure nails.

"hey baby"

your boyfriend exclaims turning around momentarily to notice your presence with his gaming headset on.

"hi"

you quietly murmur at a level he could definitely almost not hear if you weren't in the same room. You finally walked over to your boyfriend as he shut off his PC and took off his headset coming up to give you a hug.

"whats up whats wrong"

your boyfriend chuckles noticing you didnt reciporcate the hug like you normally do leaving your hands rested at you sides.

"umm i have to show you something"

you quietly state shifting your gaze to the floor where you and chris' feet practically touch, brushing your sleeve covered hands back and forth on your thighs.

"okayy why are you so nervous bells"

he trails off in his response as he can visibly see your nervousness painted on across your face.

"just promise-"

you cut yourself off just exhaling and pulling your hands out of your sleeve,and placing your hands in his, showcasing your chrome French tip manicure you just got an hour ago to your boyfriend.

"baby wha-"

chris trails off looking at your fresh set in awe. You bite your lip in anticipation to see what his reaction really is seeing he hasn't spoken a word yet.

" d-do you like them"

you shyly squeak out shifting your gaze to your boyfriends face admiring his dilated pupils.

"yes yes so fucking much oh my god"

he exclaims quickly shaking off his intrusive thoughts of how your freshly manicured hands would look wrapped around his length, grabbing the sides of your face, his fingertips slightly passing through the scalp of your hair, linking your guys lips.

Taglist

@mintsturniolo @adirtylittleheart @wh0resstuff @spicymuffins03 @aaliyahsturn

[lupeloto]

“we, huh?” ficlet

i have another ficlet that i whipped up and made me jsksndjesj. i hope u guys enjoy it, i’m a little rusty so proceed with caution

Ian lays facing away from the door, comforter billowed around his bare chest, draped lazily across his arm. His head is buzzing, his thoughts shooting around a mile-a-minute yet he can’t seem to actually process a single one. He shuts his eyes tight, trying desperately to breathe through it. He’s been off for a few weeks now, under the false assumption that he narrowly escaped Mickey’s concern until he drops a small “you got an appointment tomorrow to get your meds fixed.” Initially, a rage filled him, sending a rush through his entire body and resulting in some snippy comment about how he can handle his own shit. Mickey didn’t react, just walked to where Ian sat, placed a quick peck on the top of his head and walked out of the room. After several hours of misery in company with his own thoughts, the anger was eventually replaced with a lingering guilty. It was a guilt he felt slightly too proud to admit, resulting in their conversations being limited for the rest of the day.

Mickey shuffles in, plopping down next to Ian in bed.

“Ay,” he finally settles, “i shouldnt’ve gone behind your back,” he fidgets, his head shifting down before Ian cuts him off.

Ian shuts his eyes, breathing through the initial anger that rose, landing on the understanding that it was all in his best interest. “It’s okay,” Ian turns to face him, head resting against his forearm, the former jumbled mess that was his mind now completely clear as his eyes catch sight of the gentle blue ones that stare back at him.

Mickey mirrors him, his head resting on his forearm as his hair sits in a messy black tuft against the pillow. “It’s gonna be alright, just gonna take a look at ya and make sure we get everything figured out.” His hands move to lightly trace Ian’s shoulder, going over every freckle and scar with a delicacy that only Ian knew.

Ian stares back for a moment, eyes fixated on the flutter of Mickey’s lashes as he spoke. Fuck, he loved this man.

“We, huh?” Ian scoots closer, the corners of his lips turn up slightly at the light red that flushes Mickey’s cheeks.

Mickey brushes it off, shifting onto his back mumbling a quick, “It’s you and me, Red.”

Ian smiles to himself, gaze fixed on the sight of his husband’s porcelain skin painted in a light dusting of freckles and a few scars that Ian traces delicately with his fingers, followed by a gentle peck. The curve of his nose, his lips, his lashes. He is nothing short of mesmerized.

“You must love me a whole lot then, huh ya softie?” Ian teases

Mickey lifts his arm behind his head and shutting his eyes, “like it’s breathing, Gallagher,” he huffs casually. He nods his head, gesturing for Ian to come closer.

Ian’s heart beats out of his chest threatening to land promptly before him on the bed as he stifles a small laugh. He’s never short of amused and enthralled by his husband’s ability to say the most romantic things in the most nonchalant nature. Mickey knows it makes Ian bashful and giddy like a teenage girl so of course he slips one in whenever he can.

He feels Ian’s eyes burning a hole in him, “And I don’t wanna hear shit about it, we all know you’re the soft one,” he cuts his eyes over, “now would you get your ass over here i’m fuckin’ exhausted.”

Ian happily complies, shifting to lay his head against Mickey’s chest. His large, freckles hand reaches to grab Mickey’s, nearly completely engulfing it as he rubs small, soothing circles with his thumb while his other hand mimicks on his stomach. Mickey digs his face deep into the tuft of curls, inhaling slightly and placing a small kiss on his head as both drift slowly to sleep.

[corroded-hellfire]

i can’t stop thinking about as you wish 😩💘 what would eddie have thought of reader on their very first meeting? did he instantly start to have feelings or was it more so when he realised how much the boys liked her and how she treated eddie? my brain is rotting in the best way

big love to you xxxxxx

I am so glad you asked this because I have often thought about these two meeting! I hope you enjoy 💕

Words: 2.7k

[As You Wish masterlist]

This was it. 126 Thorn Court. The address that your sister scrawled on the paper in the indecipherable scribbling that she calls handwriting. A friend of a friend needed a steady babysitter, so your sister sent it through the grapevine the other way that her little sister has always been great with kids. 

You hadn’t gotten a whole lot of information from your sister, who in turn said she hadn’t gotten much from her friend either. All you knew was the address that was held in your hand, the name that was written beneath it—Brittany Munson—and that the kids were two boys, four and six years old. The whole time leading up to this moment you hadn’t been nervous, but sitting here parked in front of the house in your used gold car, the job interview nerves are kicking in. 

Taking a deep breath, you push the car door open and climb out. As you make your way up to the front door, a strange wave of nerves comes over you. It’s almost a pleasant tingle, like first date nerves, making you let out a confused chuckle. Smoothing your hands down your body, you take one last look down at your outfit of a flowy black skirt and a white t-shirt tucked into it. Assessing that it looks fine, you raise your hand and knock on the blue door. The faint sound of little feet running around meets your ears before a heavier gate approaches the door. When it swings open, you’re not prepared for the sight before you.

A man who can only be described as beautiful stands there, dark curls cascading down to his shoulders, and the prettiest brown eyes you’ve ever seen in your life. He’s tall with a thin frame. Skinny, but toned muscles peeking from underneath his Metallica tee. Had you been asked before what your type was, you wouldn’t have had an answer; your crushes had always been on varied types of guys. But suddenly, you’re realizing this man is exactly your type. Who could possibly be more attractive than him?

You’re so busy taking him in that you don’t realize that he’s doing the same to you. It could’ve been five seconds or five hours, when a little boy comes running over and attaches himself to the man’s leg. This breaks the both of you out of your trance, though neither of you realized the other was in one too. 

“Hi,” the man says, his pretty pink lips curving into a smile. A smile that nearly knocks the breath from you.

“Hi. I’m um, I’m here for…” you start, but are cut off by the little boy.

“You’re pretty!”

“Oh,” you say with a chuckle. “Well, thank you. You’re a handsome little boy, yourself.” He grins proudly, looking from you to his dad. 

“Babysitter, yeah?” the man asks. 

“Yes! That’s me.” You hold your hand out and introduce yourself. His hand slides into yours, rough calluses brushing against your soft skin. The warmth of his hand envelops yours and you’re pretty sure an electric spark travels up your arm at the contact. 

“I’m Eddie. This is Luke.” Eddie, your brain repeats.

“Hi!” Luke says, grinning up at you. 

“Hi,” you say, giving him a smile in return.

“Go get your brother, please,” Eddie tells his son. Luke nods and runs off somewhere in the house. “Please, come in. We’re really glad you could come by and meet us and the kids.” 

“Oh, of course,” you say, stepping inside the house. Eddie closes the door behind you, and you take the opportunity to look around. Directly to your right is the living room of the one-story house. The couch and loveseat look plush and comfy, both facing a dark wood entertainment center that holds a television. The walls are deep navy blue with a few paintings and photo frames scattered along the surfaces. Eddie steps up beside you and you’re once again struck by his beauty.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he says, gesturing towards the couch. “I’ll just go get my wife and we’ll be right back.”

Ugh. Right. He had a wife. And they have kids. That’s why you’re here, after all. But it doesn’t stop you from watching Eddie’s ass as he heads down the hallway. Stop it, you try and scold yourself. This man might be your new boss. He’s probably happily married and content with his life. He doesn’t need some teenager—even if you’d only be one for two more weeks—coming in and fawning all over him. 

As you take a seat on the couch, Luke comes running into the room, a smile identical to his father’s plastered on his lips. In fact, Luke is pretty much a shrunken version of Eddie. Except for the eyes, you notice. Luke has bright blue eyes that he must get from his mother. Another boy follows in behind Luke, a little taller and with hair a few shades lighter brown than his little brother’s. He has the same warm brown eyes as his father, but his hair only has a slight curl. 

“This is Ryan,” Luke says, poking his brother in the arm. “He’s shy sometimes.”

“That’s okay,” you tell Ryan. “I can be shy sometimes, too. Especially when I meet someone new.” 

“Told you she was pretty,” Luke says to his brother, making you giggle.

A beautiful blonde woman walks into the room, Eddie right behind her. The first thought as your eyes land on her is that she could be an actress with how pretty she is. Her heart shaped face is accentuated by long blonde hair that has a bit of a wave to it. Luke’s blue eyes are identical to hers, the mother’s framed by dark lashes and immaculate makeup. She’s a good number of inches shorter than Eddie, with a small frame and curves that any woman would kill for. Watching her as she takes a seat on the loveseat, you subconsciously start to fidget in your seat, fingers tugging on the hem of your skirt. 

“So,” the woman says, crossing one leg over the other. Her gaze settles on you and it’s eerily absent of any warmth. Eddie sits next to her, perched on the edge of his seat. He rests his elbows on his knees as he leans forward, hands clasped together. “You’re a babysitter?” the wife asks.

“Um,” Eddie says before you can say anything. “This is Brittany, my wife.” She flashes you a tight lipped, strained smile and you introduce yourself.

“And uh, yes, I’m a babysitter. I’ve been watching kids since I was fourteen,” you say.

“Which was what, two years ago?” Brittany asks, tilting her head. You can tell it wasn’t meant to be mean, it just seems to be the way she speaks. 

“No,” you say, shifting in your seat. “I’ll be twenty in a couple of weeks.”

“Are you in school?” Eddie asks, a friendly smile on his face.

“I am,” you say. 

“What’re you studying?” he asks.

“Undeclared,” you say, wrinkling up your nose. “Just doing general courses still because I can’t decide what I want to major in.”

“Well, we’ll need you Monday through Friday after school,” Brittany says, jarring both you and Eddie out of the conversation you were having.

“O-Okay,” you say, nodding your head. “All my classes are early, so that’s not a problem.”

“Would you be okay with picking them up from school?” Eddie asks, leaning back on the couch. Ryan walks over and climbs in his father’s lap. Eddie grins and tugs the little boy closer to his chest, letting him get comfortable. 

“Of course,” you answer. 

“I go to preschool,” Luke tells you, proudly. He plops himself down on the couch next to you, his little legs swinging over the ledge. 

“Luke, hush, the adults are talking,” Brittany says. Luke’s face falls and he slinks down in his seat. No wonder Ryan hasn’t opened his mouth, you think to yourself. 

Brittany continues to ask you questions, Eddie popping in every now and then to ask some himself. It’s nothing you didn’t expect–you would be thorough with someone who would potentially be spending so much time with your children as well. Though, there are a few questions from Brittany that have you wondering what they have to do with the job. Do you have a boyfriend? How often do you drink? Are you a sorority girl? You notice Eddie seems to be a little perplexed by the questions as well, confusion furrowing his brow every once in a while. 

“Well,” Brittany says, slapping her palms down on her thighs. “We’re in a bind and you seem competent. Can you start on Monday?” 

“Yeah, I can.” Her abruptness is a little alerting, but you’re keying into that this is just the way she is.

“Do you want to spend some time with the boys first?” Eddie asks, shifting Ryan in his lap.

“I would love to,” you say. “Is it okay if I play a game with you, Ryan?”

The little boy peeks up at his dad who gives him an encouraging nod. He slowly slides out of Eddie’s lap and begins to fidget with his fingers.

“What’s your favorite game?” you ask. 

“Trouble,” Ryan says, voice quiet. 

“Yeah? That’s one of my favorites too. Do you like that game too, Luke?” You turn to the younger boy to be met with a bright smile.

“Yes!”

“Perfect! Should we go play?”

“Yeah,” Luke stands up and takes your hand. “I’ll show you where it is.”

He leads you down the hall to a closet that’s situated between two bedrooms; the kids’ rooms, you assume. Luke is hardly able to reach the doorknob, never mind the game that’s on one of the top shelves. You grab the box, pulling it down, and once you turn around you see that Ryan has followed you down the hallway as well.

“Where should we play, Ryan?” you ask him. 

“The kitchen table?” Ryan asks, voice still soft.

“That sounds good to me.”

“Kitchen is this way!” Luke calls, running down the hall. Ryan walks with you as you follow the four-year-old. Luke’s already sitting at the green kitchen table, ready and raring to go, when you step into the room. 

“Would you like something to drink?” Eddie asks, coming into the kitchen behind you.

“Oh no, I’m okay, thanks,” you reply. 

Brittany comes into the kitchen and Luke looks between the two of his parents.

“Daddy! Mom! D’ya wanna play?” Luke asks. 

“Can’t, baby. I’m busy,” Brittany says. She grabs a bottle of water and shuffles out of the kitchen. Luke juts out his lower lip and turns to his father.

“Sure,” Eddie says, smile lighting up his face. Luke instantly mirrors him, a gleeful look about him as he begins to take pieces out of the game box.

You sit across the table from Eddie, in between the two boys. It’s decided you’ll be the red pieces as Luke explains the rules of the game—which you already know, but let him discuss anyway. 

Ryan goes first, and the game play begins around the table. Despite him being the most excited, Luke seems to have the worst luck as he can’t get his pieces free from home. He becomes more and more frustrated as the game goes on, eventually thick angry tears tumble out of his eyes. 

“Hey,” you say with a frown. “What’s going on?”

Luke rubs at his eye, nodding at the game board. “Can’t move.”                                                                                                                

“Aw, Luke. It can be super frustrating when things aren’t going our way, I know. Do you want to take a quick break so you can calm down? We won’t skip your turn.” Luke nods, his curls bobbing up and down with his head. “Sometimes it helps if I wash my face and take a few deep breaths. But not at the same time or you’ll get water up your nose!”

Luke giggles and a smile curls on your lips. 

“M’kay,” Luke says as he slides out of his chair. When you face forward again in your seat, Eddie’s looking at you with a small smile playing over his handsome features. 

“W-Was that okay?” you ask, suddenly nervous you overstepped in some way.

“That was great,” Eddie says with a chuckle. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a potential tantrum thwarted off so quickly.”

His praise makes you blush, ducking your head down shyly. A look at the game board has you remembering that Ryan is winning—and sitting right next to you.

“And you, little mister,” you say, grinning over at the boy. “How’d you get so good at this game? They teach you this in school?”

Ryan’s smile warms your heart, feeling like you’re finally breaking through to him. 

“Noooo,” he says. “I’m just good at it.”

“Yes, you are!”

“Ryan’s my little hard worker,” Eddie says, moving some hair out of his son’s eyes. “He puts his mind to something, and he does it better than anyone.”

“I believe that,” you say. 

Luke jogs back into the room, hopping back on his chair.

“Feeling better?” you ask, and he gives you two thumbs up. 

Ryan ends up winning the game, but Luke comes in second, beating you and Eddie. It may have been because the two of you let him, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. By the time you’re getting ready to leave, Ryan is talking up a storm, telling you about his teacher and his friends and every little thing his mind can think of. 

“Can I give you a hug?” Ryan asks when it’s time for you to go. You try to blame the sudden pressure of tears behind your eyes on hormones, but you’re pretty sure it’s not even that time of month. 

“Of course,” you say, bending down. Ryan throws his arms around your neck, and you squeeze him in return. Luke is right behind him, wanting his own chance to give you a hug goodbye. “I’ll see you guys on Monday, okay?” 

“I’ll walk you to the door,” Eddie offers. You hadn’t seen Brittany since she left the kitchen earlier—and that’s fine by you. She’s clearly your least favorite person in the family. Eddie had written down all the information you’d need and given it to you, so you were officially ready for your first day on Monday. 

“They’re really great kids,” you tell Eddie.

“Thanks,” he says and the proud look in his eyes has you practically swooning. It really isn’t fair how attractive this man is. How attractive your boss is, you realize. “Is there anything else you need before Monday?”

You shake your head as Eddie reaches for the doorknob. “Don’t think so.”

“Well, if you think of anything, you’ve got my number,” Eddie says, gesturing to the piece of paper in your hand. He has yours as well, stuck on the fridge with a magnet. 

“I guess I’ll see you on Monday,” you say.

“Yeah.” Eddie slips his hands into his pockets as he leans against the open door. “You know, I’m really glad we found you. We needed a babysitter, and I was kinda resigned to having to settle for someone. But you seem perfect. F-For the job.”

Cheeks warming, you give him a bashful smile. “Thank you,” you say.

“I should be thanking you. I have to admit I’ll have more peace of mind knowing you’re watching the boys.”

“I promise you they’re in good hands,” you say, reluctantly turning for the door. “I’ll see you on Monday, Mr. Munson.” 

Eddie’s silently glad that you’ve turned away at that moment, so you don’t catch the hitch in his breath. There’s no way he can deal with you calling him that all the time.

“Call me Eddie,” he says, forcing his tone to be casual. 

“Okay. See you on Monday, Eddie.”

“See you Monday, sweetheart.”

Keeping your composure until you get into your car is harder than it should be. But once you’re buckled in and you see that Eddie had closed the front door behind you, you let out a squeal and throw your head back against the headrest. 

“Holy shit,” you say to yourself. “He called me sweetheart. This man is going to be the death of me.”