#I say sketches like I didn’t spend hours on these

[daremo-desu]

I was working on a comic but I’m slow af so have some sketches

[goldhoekin]

Angel || Sam Riordan Smut

Angel || Yandere!Sam Riordan x Fem Reader

summary: After Marie becomes #2 and Brink is killed by Luke Jordan slips in the rankings. They begin to obsess over the rankings neglecting their girlfriend who lets their frustration slips and Jordan takes their frustrations out on their girlfriend.

cw: fem!reader, porn with some plot, creampie, unprotected sex, dubious consent, oral sex ( f! receiving), overstimulation, biting/marking, dacryphilia, obsessive behaviors, and nonconsensual use of aphrodisiacs .

Words:2.03k

He sees you every single time Luke is brought down for his infusions, each time you look at him with such kindness and sadness as you plead for his freedom. It makes him happy to see someone actually fight for him. One time you’d even held his hand in exchange for him to stop struggling.

“Hi Sam. My name’s Y/N, I’m so sorry you have to go through this. Would you like it if I held your hand to help? I know its not much but maybe that’ll make this a tiny bit more bearable?” You say, a genuine look in your eye, that’s how he knows you’re real and not a puppet, you’re a real angel. 

You’re his personal angel…and he has to have you. You were so nice to him, you must like him right? For weeks he spends his time sketching you on pieces of paper, hiding them each time you visit him, and spend time with him.

One day after lunch he asks to speak to Shetty, telling her he has a deal for her. He’d dreamt of you sitting down in his room, reading comics with him, holding his hand as he saw the puppets all with those sparkly eyes of yours.

“You let me have Y/N for a few hours a day and I won’t fight you anymore..” Sam says, eyes sparkling with hope, voice steady…well as steady as he can make it.

The woman’s brows raised in surprise, you were a simple supe who made pretty little light shows. Harmless enough, you were one of the few supes she actually had no issue with, you were an angel truly. Though as much as she didn't like bargaining you off to a highly dangerous supe…she wasn’t left with much choice Sam was integral to Luke’s success and if giving you up to him for an hour, after doping him to high hell so he didn’t kill you, then so be it. Vought didn’t need to know what they did for the Woods project to go smoothly and if she had to get her hands dirtier than so be it, keep them distracted on what she was really doing.

“You can have her for one hour a day and that’s only if you take your medications without fuss, Y/N’s a sweet girl. We don’t want her hurt, do we Sam?” Indira says, a false smile on her face.

“O-one hour? No cameras right? I won’t her I promise!” Sam hastily replies.

Shetty simply nods her head in confirmation and turns towards the exit, “She’ll be here for you tomorrow, don’t screw this up Sam.”

You were called to Dean Shetty’s office, she texted you and said it was urgent. She told you to dress up, wear white and tell no one. So when Andre asked you where you were going looking like a sexy Virgin Mary with your pure white sundress, matching shoes, garters and underwear included. You hated not looking put together, a habit you’ve had due to your belief that keeping up a certain image will help your brand, which for all intent and purposes it did. 

You simply said, “Some of us don’t get dressed in the dark while spending my daddy’s money on tacky clothes Andre.”

A cackle leaves Luke’s lips as Andre’s face turns into one of shock, Jordan silently crying into a throw pillow, Cate struggling to breathe through her laughs. Without another word you make your way to Dean Shetty’s office, the woman already waiting outside her door, two cups of a hot beverage in hand.

She walks towards you and guides you in the familiar direction to the Woods, handing you a warm cup that you take without hesitation. You unfortunately knew about it, finding out by accident. Dean Shetty knew of your record of caring for those who need it, this should be right up your alley. Though she knew you wouldn’t be the most susceptive to Sam’s advances without help so she slipped a high dose aphrodisiac into your cinnamon creme drink that you love so much.

“Y/N love, I have a special mission for you.” Shetty says as they move downwards towards the prison facility, “Sam needs someone to spend time with, he said he’d love to talk and spend time with you! Would you be willing to spend an hour a day with him, just help him adjust and stay settled? I know you’ll be great at it love!”

You think its actually sweet that Sam felt safe enough with you to ask to spend time with you.  The poor boy needed help that Vought could give him, maybe you can as well. Maybe you can even work with him to get him a little tv or something or more books for him to read.You fall into your thoughts as you absentmindedly sip your drink, noting how good it tasted. 

“Sure we can read some comics, maybe even have some snacks,I think it’ll be really fun!” You say with that lovely smile on your face, the same one Sam loves and Dean Shetty fears will never grace your face again after today as she takes the now empty cup from your hand.

Making your way down to Sam’s room you wait for him to enter, promptly security and Shetty leave and the door is securely closed behind you.

Sam stares at you in awe, mouth agape at your appearance.

She dressed up for me, my angel put on this pretty outfit for me. Y/N really does love me!

“Y-you look really pretty. I can’t believe you did all this for me!” Sam beams, moving forward to grip your hand. You notice he has a band-aid on his wrist, noting that he’s been injected with something.

At that moment you feel your body growing hot, prompting you to immediately take off your tell tailored white coat. Your breasts now on display as you chest heaves as you try and fail to gather air in your lungs, you hardly noticed Sam’s face so close to yours, his eyes staring at your lips. Without hesitation he slams onto yours, his hands gripping your waist in a bruising grip.

They must’ve given a strength dampener, because he could’ve fucking crushed me…

You think to yourself as you feel his lips clumsily move onto yours, you move yours against his, feeling the weight on your chest lessen slightly. You feel your pussy grow wetter and wetter as his hands roam your body, making his way under your dress to grip your ass.

You move him in the general direction of his bed, the young man breathless. 

“I–i can’t believe you like me back!” Sam whispers, his knee grazing against your dripping wet cunt.

“What-I like you, just as a friend Sam.” You say as you feel his neck brush against your neck, which promptly stops at your words.

“If you don’t like me then why are we in my bed? Why are you kissing me and letting me touch you?” Sam asks, his voice hurt, you couldn’t help but sigh.

“I…I can’t stop for some reason. I’m so horny it hurts, if I could do this with someone else trust me I would Sam. I’m so sorry!” You whimper, unconsciously grinding your weeping pussy against his knee, desperate for friction of any kind. At this he tosses you back, so roughly you land on his bean bag, legs spread wide. A large gray spot showing how wet you are, your face hot and your breasts threatening to spill out from your dress.

“You’re mine!” Sam growls, eyes darkened as he crawls in between your legs, he takes his time pulling down your panties and exposing your pussy to the open air. He keeps your legs open with his strength as he dives into your wetness, your hand immediately goes into his hair gripping it harshly. A moan leaves his lips as you pull him as close to you as possible, your moans pouring from your lips as he licks at you with inexperienced vigor. 

“Use your finger Sam! Take two, move them in and out of me, keep your mouth on my clit. Y-you’re so good baby, fuck you’re doing so fucking good!” You moan, thankfully Sam listens to you his deliciously thick fingers plunge into your cunt and sucks at your cunt harshly, the knot that was forming in your stomach tightening more and more. You wrap your now free legs around Sam’s head grinding your cunt against his face as you feel yourself about to cum.

“Oh fuck! Sam, I’m gonna cum!” You scream as you feel yourself gush, your legs shaking violently as you come down from your high. Sam’s tongue lapping up your juices eagerly, licking and sucking you damn near clean. After you stopped shaking he pulls back, swiftly pulling his cock out, the tip violently red. His tip is leaking large amounts of precum, he runs his hand up and down his shaft.

“Don’t worry I’ll be good, so good that you won’t want anyone else! It’ll be perfect and maybe you can stay down here with me longer!” Sam says settling between your legs, he begins to rub himself up and down your still twitching cunt, your pussy gripping on nothing. Without warning he plunged himself into you, his body leaning over you as he pushed himself into you to the hilt, his face buried in your neck. He begins to push himself in and out of your pussy, the feeling becoming overwhelming fast as you feel him pick up the pace, albeit not the smoothest rhythm was set. 

“Y-you feel so good! You really were made for me my angel, I can’t believe I get to go do this with you! Tell me what you want me to do, I’ll do it! I’ll do anything for you, just ask!” Sam says breathlessly, his hands find their way to the top of your dress, roughly pulling down the bodice to watch your breasts spill out. Sam latches his lips around your pebbled nipple, nipping and biting down harshly on your chest, a gasp leaving your lips. You begin to feel another orgasm building, causing you to wrap your arms around Sam’s neck and your legs capture his midsection. 

“I’m gonna cum again! Fuck!” You moan as you feel Sam’s thrusts grow sloppy, hopefully he’s smart enough to pull out.

You feel yourself cumming again, thick cream coating Sam’s dick as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, the overstimulation causing you to cry from the overwhelming sensation. 

Sam looks up at your face as he feels your tears, he couldn’t help but think about how good you looked like this. All fucked out, those beautiful eyes shinging with tears from how good he’s making you feel. Sam decides that he wants to see you like this more often, him fucking you till you cry and him filling you up, his various bite marks and hickies littering your decolletage and those wide angel eyes filled with tears. This pushes him to prop himself up on his hands and piston in and out of you, your breasts bouncing wildly and your hands trying to push him away as the sensation is too much for you and the fear of him cumming inside of you. He buries his face into your neck, biting down harshly as he cums deep within you, filling you to the brim.

‘Don’t worry Angel, we’ll be so happy. It’ll be great just watch, I made you mine and I’m never letting you go.” Sam whispered into your neck, by now the drug that was slipped into your drink was wearing off and your face began to contort into one of horror, thoughts of you being stuck down here with him. You possibly ruining your a career by having a child too early while you yourself were a child became too much and those lovely eyes of yours went dark, the spark dying instantly. 

Fuck.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

I don’t want you like a best friend | Xavier Thorpe x Reader

Summary: You and Xavier have been best friends for a while, but you don’t want to be just friends anymore. Come the Rave’n dance, you decide to tell him

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: suggestive themes

"Say my name and everything just stops I don't want you like a best friend Only bought this dress so you could take it off"

—

‘’Are you coming the the Rave’n dance?’’

‘’I don’t have a date.’’

‘’You could go with Xavier?’’ Enid suggested with a knowing grin.

You and Xavier have been best friends since your first year at Nevermore Academy. Being away from home for this long and adjusting to a new environment had been difficult. You missed your family and the comfort of home. Making friends wasn’t your strongest, so you ended up very lonely.

Until you met Xavier. Although he was part of the popular crowd, he preferred solitude. He could spend hours on his own, drawing or painting.

One day, his sketchbook fell out of his bag in botanical class and you were amazed by the close to perfection sketch of your mutual classmate, Ajax. You hadn’t been able to stop the compliment that spilled from your lips. Xavier had smiled, a little shy, and thanked you. The next day, he had made a drawing of you sitting in the courtyard, reading a book.

You never talked to him outside of class…until parents’s weekend. You had been anticipating that day for so long — you missed your parents very dearly —, only to hear from Principal Weems that morning that they would not be coming. Sadness had filled your heart and you ended up crying silently between two shelves at the library.

You weren’t the only student whose parents didn’t come. Some parents, like Xavier’s father, were so busy with their work life that they cared very little about their son’s school event. Unlike you, Xavier didn’t come to cry. He was looking for a book. Except he found you instead.

You spent the whole day together, getting to know each other and talking about anything but your parents and, for the first time in weeks, a smile curled on your lips. Especially when he shared with you his little ability of making his artwork move.

Your friendship tightened over the years, friends turning into best friends. You called each other during summer break, and sometimes visited because September was just too far away. The Thorpe manor was massive and Xavier had his own art studio — which was even bigger than his shed on school grounds.

It was nice to have a friend like him.

But since your last visit, some things changed. Your friendship had developed into deeper feelings — non-platonic feelings. You held back from acting on them because Xavier was freshly broken up with Bianca and hurting. You also didn’t want to be someone’s rebound.

‘’I heard he’s going with Bianca,’’ Wednesday butted in, making Enid narrow her eyes at her.

‘’Only because she asked him,’’ the blonde quickly clarified. ‘’It doesn’t look like they’re getting back together though. Like ever. Xavier’s been very indifferent toward Bianca lately.’’

Enid wasn’t wrong. You hadn’t heard Xavier say Bianca's name in the past two months and you were the second person he spent the most time with — after Ajax. He came to you when he had doubts about the genuineness of their relationships, so he would tell you if he was still into her. Right?

That’s how the plans were made.

‘’That means we’re going dress shopping!’’ Enid grabbed her pink fuzzy backpack, looking at you excitedly. ‘’You need a dress that screams ‘stand back bitches, he’s mine’.’’

*

There weren't many shops in Jericho, so everyone ended up in the same one. It’s gonna be a miracle if two girls don’t show up in the same dress.

The bell above Hawte Kewture dinged as you and Enid stepped in. ‘’The dance committee is suggesting all white to match with the team, but that’s not gonna fly with us. If you want to catch Xavier’s attention and make him see you as something else than a best friend, you need to stand out.’’

‘’I’m not gonna wear bright pink, if that’s what you’re suggesting.’’

You weren’t afraid of colors like Wednesday, but brighter tones and pastels were Enid’s palette. Not yours.

‘’That’s not what I had in mind. Come.’’

None of the dresses you tried were to your liking. Too much tule, too itchy, too plain. You needed something that would make the whole place shimmer, to quote Enid.

Time passed and, around you, your classmates were all finding their dresses. All except you. Even Enid had found hers — a white number with a fluffy collar and cuffs. You were starting to feel defeated.

A sigh left your lips. I'll never find anythi—’’ You cut yourself, catching a velvet fabric smushed between the tule and sequins. You plucked it from the rack and held it before you.

‘’What about this one?’’

Enid stopped flicking through the dresses and turned to you, approval flashing in her eyes. ‘’Yes! This is the dress,’’ she confirmed, squealing excitedly.

*

You and Enid were getting ready for the dance in her dorm, both of your makeup bags spilled and mixed up on her bed. It was a complete mess — and will probably be staining her comforter in some places because of a missing cap on a lipstick and a broken highlighter. Sorry, Enid.

‘’If Xavier doesn't kiss you tonight, he is the dumbest guy ever. I mean, look at you. If this doesn’t push him to make a move, someone else will.’’

But I don’t want someone else, you thought to yourself as you applied a light wash of color to your cheeks.

You didn’t want to be that girl, but to your eyes there was only Xavier.

His sweet smile that never fails to make your heart swoon, those pretty green eyes you want to stare into all day, those lips you were dying to kiss and taste. The way only he knows how to make you laugh when you're sad and the warm hugs you never want to break from. He is always real and honest with you, even if his thoughts are sometimes dark. The speckles of paint on his shirts and sometimes on his school uniform — which he always needed your help to clean —, the late nights sneaking in his dorm to talk about everything and nothing.

‘’Y/N! Are you listening?’’

You pulled yourself out of your thoughts, thankful for the color on your cheeks covering your natural flush. ‘’Sorry. What did you say?’’

‘’You were thinking about him, were you?’’ Enid teased, grinning like a teenage girl in a rom-com.

‘’I was not thinking about Xavier,’’ you denied.

She scoffed. ‘’Liar.’’ Enid held up two lipsticks, asking for your input. ‘’Should I do red or pink?’’

‘’Pink.’’

*

When you entered the room of flashing lights and buzzing music, all eyes turned to you.

All except Xavier’s.

His were too busy staring at the layered white tablecloths while Bianca was talking about god knows what. Before him was an empty glass, telling you enough about the fun he was not having.

You bit back a smile, secretly happy to see he was not having fun with his date.

‘’Ohh, look, Xavier’s there,’’ Enid pointed out in the least subtle way, grabbing your arm and looking right in his direction. ‘’He polished up nice.’’

He was wearing an all white suit with a thin black bowtie and his hair was pulled back, showing off his features. You sucked in a breath, feeling butterflies in your stomach. He looked so handsome — gorgeous.

‘’I’m gonna get us some drinks.’’ You tore your eyes from Xavier and went to the table where the punch was. With luck, someone will have spiked it and it’ll give you some liquid courage for later.

As you were filling the second glass with blue smoking punch, someone came up to your side. By the whiff of their cologne, you knew immediately who it was.

‘’I thought you weren’t coming.’’

His eyes raked up and down your body and you held back a smirk. Your plan was working, the dress was working. It was nothing too revealing. You wanted to get Xavier’s attention, not get sent to your room by Principal Weems.

‘’I changed my mind.’’ You grabbed your other drink and handed Xavier the second one. ‘’Yeti-tini?’’

It was for Enid, but oh well.

Xavier accepted it with a soft dimpled smile and brought the glass to his lips. ‘’You look…’’ He swallowed hard and lowered his eyes while searching for his words. ‘’Beautiful.’’ A light flush covered his cheeks, quickly correcting himself. ‘’I mean, you look great.’’

‘’Thanks.’’ You brought your drink to your lips to hide your smile. ‘’Shouldn’t you be with your date? Bianca seems a little lonely.’’

He glanced at Bianca who was sitting alone at a table, swishing her drink in its glass out of boredom, then drew his gaze back to you. ‘’I’m not allowed to come and say ‘hi’ to my best friend?’’

Best friend. You tried not to wince.

Xavier Thorpe was the king of mixed signals. A minute ago, he was complimenting you and looking at you the way a platonic friend wouldn’t, and now he was calling you his best friend. The words hurt like a knife in your chest.

You shifted your eyes to the dancefloor and faked a gasp. ‘’I gotta go. There’s a girl code emergency. Someone is flirting with Enid and she’s giving me the help signal.’’

‘’Oh. Okay. I…I’ll see you later, then.’’

You walked away with your drink and searched for Enid. The night was off to a bad start.

*

Eventually, you got dragged to the dancefloor. Most songs the DJ was playing were normie modern pop, but you tried to not cringe too much. One would think a school like Nevermore would be into more unorthodox music, but they can’t escape the radio hits.

You were dancing with Enid and Yoko, letting go and having fun between girls when you caught sight of an upset Bianca leaving the dance and Xavier sulking in a chair. Abandoning the girls, you snaked through the crowd of students and made your way to him.

‘’I know you are Nevermore’s tortured artist, but you’re allowed to have fun once in a while. Come dance.’’ You extended your hand, waiting for him to take it.

Xavier raised an eyebrow. ‘’With you?’’

‘’Yes. I promise I won’t step on your feet.’’

He accepted your hand with a sigh and you pulled him to the dancefloor as a better song came up. A sliver of a smile curled on his lips as your back was turned to him, hidden from you.

You swayed close to him, moving your arms, hips and shoulders to the music. Xavier chuckled and followed automatically, dancing as he pleased and fully letting go. He pulled silly moves and even made you twirl, making you both laugh. A perpetual smile etched itself on your face and pieces of hair were coming loose from Xavier's hair tie, forgetting about the people around you.

The music switched to a slow song and you both stood there, not knowing what to do. His eyes flicked down to you, looking at you in a way he never had before. You've never been nervous around Xavier before. He was your comfort person, the only one who you could be unapologetically yourself with. But the way he was looking at you sent nervous butterflies in your stomach.

Your hands shaking from holding back from him. You didn't want him like a best friend anymore. You didn’t want him to touch you like a best friend anymore.

As if he had heard your thoughts, Xavier stepped closer, so close not even a sheet of paper could pass between you. So close you could smell his cologne, a mix of pine notes with a softer undernote. His hands found the courage to rest on your waist, his gentle touch sending electricity through your body. ‘’Is this okay?’’ he asked, gulping as his eyes bore into you, the close proximity making his hands sweaty and causing his heart to pick up.

You nodded. It was more than okay.

‘’Xavier?’’

He hummed, his green eyes shimmering from the mirrorballs hung to the ceiling, reflecting the party lights. You curled your fingers around one of the tails of Xavier’s bowtie, wishing you could undo it and attach your lips to his neck and fastening yourself to him like a stitch.

‘’There's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while.’’ He motioned for you to go ahead as you swayed to the slow music. You took a last breath and allowed the words to leave your lips. ‘’I...I don't want us to be friends anymore. I can't keep pretending I'm okay with us being just friends when all I think about when we're together is closing the space between us and kissing you.’’

‘’Like this?’’

Xavier leaned down and when his lips touched yours, all pieces fell into place. You melted into him and slid your hands around his neck, as if you were afraid he would break the kiss and run.

You were both out of breath when you pulled away, eyes filled with desire.

‘’I take back what I said earlier, you look fucking beautiful tonight,’’ Xavier said, his mouth overing over yours. ‘’And that dress— It's killing me.’’ His hands moved up and down your sides while his eyes stalled on the swell over your breasts. He was trying to be respectful with all the chaperon professors around, but his pants were getting a little tight.

There was absolutely no subtlety in the way you and Xavier snuck out of the room to go to his dorm. Your red dress stood out like a sore thumb among all the white.

Your dress hit the floor the moment you made it to Xavier’s dorm and remained there all night. After all, it was the reason you had bought it.

—

Xavier Thorpe taglist: @sofiaadler @partyfly @hoodforcalum @thelilacmourning @ellessecretobsession @su-alteza-emia @achoo---uu @not-leaprvt @xaviersgf @peterparkerdilf @roadworkaheadisurehopeitdoes @dragon-chica @coldtacozinepanda @wrldofsage @eddiemunsonsluvrrr @capriaura @officialsaturn @babyfiva @maevaomizzolo @kelloggs-world @whosljt @ajpanda181 @belovedrey @emerycrt @elizabitchsshit @heaven-hiding @lilithlikestoread @est-liber @moonisu @dessxoxsworld @parker-nite @bellblake121890 @vesperazhier @kaldurahms-lover @beeebo234 @nephilimsss @mayuphoenix @sweetheartlizzie07 @watermelon-18 @snixx2088 @555stargirl555 @robinscardigan @chumchum19 @lilttblog @aphex2winn @heizenka @mystargirl-interlude @hwrtsiren @babygirljay20 @wildflowerlyss @strangersomeone @openfandoms @charlottelaffin @iheartmaddyperez @starless-starkov @ali-r3n

[shawnxstyles]

we need a part two when they finish the project please

sweetheart (part 2)

warnings: smut; (f- receiving [fingering, clit stimulation], praise kink, protected sex, slight cock-warming, dirty talk), and tiny fluff

note: i’m soooo sorry i haven’t been as active. once june starts i’ll be able to write more and post more stories, but right now i’m super busy. i have a few fics right now that i’ve started, but haven’t gotten the chance to sit down and finish them. so for now, please accept this blurb 😖 sweetheart part 1

—

you’ve always had a liking for school, in every aspect. unlike most people, you enjoyed doing homework and projects because it helped you understand the material you were learning. specifically, you adored science. you thought that the facts and what-ifs of the universe were fascinating, and you wouldn’t mind spending your whole life experimenting to discover new things. you absolutely loved chemistry and found it fun to analyze different equations to see what substance creates which reaction.

but right now, you’ve never hated science more.

peter is sitting on his computer typing away on the essay portion while you’re trying to focus on writing the poster. in all honesty, he gave you the easier job and you’re grateful, but you can’t seem to focus. not after he had his warm mouth on your pussy only two hours ago. every few moments, you would peek at peter’s fingers typing. you were getting so desperate to the point that each word he typed sent a tingle down your belly. when you two made light conversation, you swear his voice got a little deeper each time, and the rumbly rasp nearly sent you flying onto his lap.

“y/n, did you hear me?” you did not hear him.

“huh?” you blinked a few times, shaking all your dirty thoughts of his fingers from you. but they looked so rough and they moved so quickly, just like they did in you—

“are you okay?” no, you were not okay.

“uh, yeah, i’m fine,” you lied because you just wanted to finish the project, so peter could withhold his promise. that promise was the only thing getting you through this poster. there seemed to be a million facts and a lot of diagrams.

“what’d i say about lying?” peter asked with a head tilt and an octave-lower voice, his fingers halting on the keyboard. your heart skipped an erratic beat and your pencil dropped onto the poster paper.

“d-don’t do it.”

“good, you remembered,” he smirked subtly before typing away again. you take shallow breaths, wondering how he takes away your breath so easily.

the pulsing need of your clit and the burning of your stomach keep you from focusing. after ten minutes of hazily writing and sketching nonsense, you swallow your fear.

“peter, i was wondering if…we could take a break?” you suggested, pencil spinning around your anxious finger.

“sure, that sounds good,” he replies, but not the way you wanted him to. you watch as he saves his progress and closes his computer before walking around the kitchen island. he grabs two cups of water and hands one over to you when you appear at his side.

“oh, i’m not thirsty,” you smile to deny his offer.

“but you will be,” peter says nonchalantly before taking a smooth sip of his water. you feel the all-too familiar blush cascade across your neck as your eyes wander around the floor.

“are you all shy now? you didn’t seem to be when you were checking me out earlier,” peter taunts with a fake-innocent smile and places his glass on the counter. your eyes go wide for a moment, embarrassed that you were caught. “what? you didn’t think i saw you looking at me like you were going to jump on me? i know needy eyes when i see them, baby.”

the overwhelming heat of your skin fogs up your brain, making it impossible to focus on anything but the words leaving his lips. you’re silently begging him to touch you, to mend that ache in your cunt with his rough fingers. and hopefully, his cock. god, you want to see and feel his cock more than anything. you bet it would stretch you out for a whole week.

you swear you’re not normally like this.

“something’s on your mind,” peter observes with squinted eyes and a hand under his chin. “what is it?”

oh, just the idea of you fucking me into oblivion that’s all is what you wanted to say, but of course you didn’t. you mumbled out some gibberish that he couldn’t understand.

“i can’t hear you, sweetheart,” his words were so condescending, and in some twisted way, it turned you on so much.

“your promise,” you finally said, looking at his eyes. with each passing moment they grew from brown to shades darker.

“oh, i see,” peter tsks, “please, remind me what my promise was again? i seem to have forgotten.”

peter just loves games. especially the ones where he can feel your skin radiating fiery heat and watch your body squirm in its place. like he has all night, he’s been able to smell your arousal throughout the two hours you’ve been working. it utterly killed him to sit steady and type some scientific essay that wasn’t nearly as entertaining as your moans or ogasmic face. it was even worse knowing that you were just as desperate, but most likely didn’t want to interrupt your guys’ work time. what an angel you were.

but right now, peter’s never wanted to do more sinful things.

“you said…” how does he say such dirty words with ease? “you said we could continue what we were doing earlier.”

you lean your back against the counter, heart beating erratically in your chest as you try to remain cool. but your entire body was on fire and your clit was throbbing in your soaked underwear, so it was pretty difficult to stay focused.

“and what was that? use your words,” peter softly demands, licking his lips smugly. a never-ending heat cascades through your body, making your heart beat faster than ever. you breathe in, trying to get the courage to be so upfront.

“you said you would…fuck me,” you surprised yourself when you said the words. they sounded even bolder than you would have thought. every little moment he doesn’t say anything makes you think he’s just going to laugh at you. at this point, you think you’ve gone insane because you can no longer feel your heart beating. just the impending silence dangling between you two.

“good girl. now i remember,” peter smiles proudly and inches his way closer to you. his hand snakes up your neck and caresses your jaw. his thumb plays innocently with your bottom lip as your trembling breath huffs out. he could do whatever he wanted to you, and you would let him. “it wouldn’t be very nice if i didn’t keep my promise, would it?”

“no,” you waver out. your legs are stiffened together and your eyes are straining on his every move.

peter solely smirks before leaning down to kiss you. like the movies, his kiss is soft and pleasant. the way your lips molded together caused such an intense chemical reaction, and you would love to experiment on it. multiple times. every day. you would kiss him as many times as you could. you never would forget the magnetic feeling of his lips on yours.

your hands get lost in his brown hair, twisting their way through his ends. you’re so lost within his kiss that you didn’t even comprehend when he said “jump,” but you subconsciously listened and leaped into his hold. peter carried you to his bedroom, which you have been dying to see since you walked through the door. you believed someone’s bedroom said a lot about them.

however, you were too focused on other things to analyze peter’s bedroom. peter delicately lays you onto his black sheets, still kissing you like the world is ending. he slowly makes his way down your warm neck as you hum at the feeling. knowing what’s coming, you don’t wait for peter to ask permission behind discarding your own shirt. you close your eyes and tell yourself to not be self-conscious. he’s already seen you naked, so why be nervous?

seeing this, peter frowns slightly. his rough fingertip taps lightly on your temple. “open. wanna see your pretty eyes.”

your stomach tingles at his words before obeying his request. instead of smirking, peter smiles goofily and then kisses your cheek. a wave of warmth erupts through your skin at his affection. your entire body was covered in flames at this point, and you wondered if you would even be alive to get to the good part.

his tough hands roam your supple skin in hopes of exploring every inch. the rough texture left tingles in its trail.

“jeans?” he asks, looking up at you for approval.

“yes. please, peter,” you rushed and pleaded. your clit was begging for some friction, and you were about to start crying if you didn’t get something.

“gotta tell me what you want, sweetheart,” peter sang, thumbs rubbing the supple skin of your inner thighs teasingly. you wavered out a shaky breath, trying to conjure up the words.

“i need you so bad it hurts,” you whimpered. you were honest with peter, but your words weren’t what he wanted.

“i bet it does, baby. but that’s not what i asked,” peter flicks your clit through your underwear causing you to gasp at this unexpected movement. your thighs twitch and tighten at his teasing. he does it a few more times, just to get your body even more excited, and to get you to finally speak up.

“f-fuck! peter, i need your cock. i-i need you to fuck me,” you shouted, louder than you intended, but that was even better for peter.

“look who’s using her words,” peter says smugly, making your roll your eyes. you both assist in shrugging your panties off, making you completely naked while peter is still fully dressed. you reach for his shirt, but he’s already a step ahead of you and pulls it off himself.

when you see his body, you swear you almost faint. peter had six bulky packs of muscle on his abdomen and lumps of muscle on his arms. his chest was buff and tight, yet looked soft all at the same time. you had to blink a few times to make sure he was real. you even poked a finger at his stomach just to make sure it didn’t go through him like a ghost or a hologram. peter chuckles at your antics before grabbing your hand and kissing it, just like he had done earlier in the evening. and just like earlier, you felt yourself blush profusely and feel tingly all over again.

while you’re smiling like a goof, peter’s hands resume on your body. you instantly stop smiling because you remembered just how much he’s deprived you. but he’s also given you more than anyone else has in the past…

his digits caress your soaking slit between your crossed legs. you gasp because he’s finally touching you bare.

“open,” he demands softly, voice deep and lustful. shakily, you listen and do so. peter doesn’t hesitate to find your lips again with his fingers.

you quietly moan at the delicate pressure, feeling the smallest bit of friction. just as you were about to beg him for more, or to hurry up, his middle finger slips inside of you. it was almost embarrassing how easy it was. the amount of wetness you were leaking could fix the california drought.

“god, you’re so wet. what made you like this?” peter slowly pushed his finger in and out, thumb circling your puffy clit at the same time.

“you, peter! fuck,” you clenched around his digit, needing release already.

“are you thinking about my cock? hmm?” peter questioned, voice gravely as he leans over you. “are you thinking about me inside of you? thinking about how much i’m going to stretch your little pussy out?”

you groan at his foul language, pulsing barbarically. you’re straining to keep your eyes open, trying to obey his earlier request and to intake the moment. peter urges you to come, increasing his thrusts and pace. before you know it, your core is tightening and you’re squeezing peter’s fingers until you do. you thought you cut off his circulation from how hard you were clutching onto him, but when he pulls his fingers away and licks them proudly, you knew he was just fine.

“taste so good, sweetheart,” a smirk dances upon his lips as your taste lingers in his mouth. he’ll never forget that taste, no matter what happens after tonight. he’s hoping there will be more nights like these. more days too.

“can you please fuck me now, peter?–”

he holds up a finger to your lips.

“all of a sudden you know how to use your words and it still sounds so dirty coming from your pretty lips.”

in the blink of an eye, peter is reaching over to his night stand to grab a condom (hopefully). when you see the tinfoil wrapping, he stuffs it between your teeth, making you hold onto it. you then watch as he undresses his pants, clearly taking all the time in the world like he has it.

the smell of your orgasm and your wetness is haunting peter’s senses. the scent of you is never going to rid from his body or his room. he also doesn’t ever want you to leave, so he’s going to drag this out as long as possible.

once his pants are finally off, you get the courage to undo the wrapper while he’s taking his underwear off. holding the condom, you almost drop it once you see his length. he’s big, bigger than you’ve ever had. the tip of cock is bright red and leaking a bit of pre-cum, clearly just as desperate as you.

“fuck,” you mumble when looking at him. all he does is smirk before taking the condom from your hand and putting it over himself. peter leans over you again, face over face.

“ready, sweetheart?” his smirk lingers while you clench around nothing. you can feel the overwhelming sensation of your clit throbbing and you just want him to mend it. “ready to be fucked so hard you can’t leave?”

“yes, peter. fuck me hard.”

with your final words, peter is gently sinking into you. your wet folds encompass his cock snuggly causing you both to groan in delight. after a few moments, he starts to rock his body and you release a string of moans with every thrust. you try your hardest to keep your eyes open, but fail to do so. the sensations are indescribable throughout your body.

peter’s actions get harder, rougher. just like you wanted. he’s flicking his hips into yours with skilled movements while his face is relaxing in the crease of your neck. you feel his warm breath on you as he groans into your ear, lighting your whole body on fire.

“shit, peter, it feels so good. don’t stop,” you whine when he hits a certain part inside of you. your hand creeps down in between you both to rub the ache in your clit, but peter stops you.

“love when you touch yourself,” he grunts, never halting his movements, “but that’s my job right now.”

so, peter begins harshing rubbing your clit to no end. instead, your hands squeeze tightly on his biceps while he pounds into you so hard, you see stars. your never-ending wetness makes it so easy for him to slip in and out.

you feel yourself clutch onto his cock and when he moans, he sounded like the best thing you’ve ever heard.

“i-i love when you moan,” you croaked out, feeling too blissful to speak coherently.

“yeah? what else do you like?” peter huffs out, still smug as ever, even when he’s deep inside of you.

“l-love when you talk dirty, peter.”

“knew you were fucking filthy.”

with his rough words, you’re on the brink of your orgasm. your core tightens like it did earlier and your nails are digging deliciously into his skin. peter hisses in pleasurable pain, loving what you’re doing to him.

as your orgasm flows over you, your heart beats a million miles an hour and your breathing becomes staggered. the moans you elicit were just as filthy and pornographic as…well a porno. as you came, peter was smiling the whole time.

peter twitched inside of you and that’s when you knew he was close. you tangled your hands in his hair one last time and gave a single tug. that simple movement caused him to groan deeply and bring him to his release.

he doesn’t pull out quite yet. he just rests inside of you with his head on your chest. then after a few moments, he goes to get up.

“don’t leave,” you whisper and slide your hand through his locks again.

“it’s my place, baby, i’m not leaving,” he chuckles and slowly pulls out. you whimper at the loss of his cock, and at the feeling of being stretched out to the max.

“peter, i think you ruined me,” your voice cracked because it was hoarse and dry. you definitely needed some water now.

“good. are you thirsty now, sweetheart?”

—

tags: @invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @raajali3

crossed out= not able to tag

[mirnightghost]

I finished-

Ughhh

Okay, let me first say important things that are more likely to be addressed to the fandom, and then thoughts. love thoughts.

So~

I didn’t spend enough time with the characters, so I can’t choose clothes for them, let alone mugs SO if you have mug/pyjama ideas I would love to hear them "Pajamas? Mir, are you five?" Pajamas are cool. Everyone who disagrees is just not cool enough-

Btw, it's tea, not coffee. Yeah, because I said so

That's it, important information is over, then just another wall of text

▪︎

I liked the process, but I don't like the result... Yes guys, drawing people is still torture- In the end, you sit and fight with a sketch for three hours... but each attempt increases the skill ⚔

(oh yes, and I'm also an idiot and decided to take the color of his scar through a pipette. And draw another scar with the same color. And it doesn't work like that.)

I like to draw them. It's so...unusual. 'Cause I usually spend five years in a fandom with no fanart because I'm physically sick-

BUT HERE? I DON'T FEEL BAD-

I consider it a success

Before that, I drew sketches without painting, and here is a new level (but this is because the skin tone is easy to select, since cartoons are very simple in this regard)

Yes, I still don't like the result, but it won't be the best if I give up. Thanks to everyone who supports my art in general! And a special thanks to my partner, without whom I would not have got out of the abyss of thoughts to take the stylus pen.

[leviathanspain]

hi!! can i request a smutty benedict bridgerton x reader? where they’re married and while the reader is relaxing in their home library, reading, benedict comes in and starts to beg for attention. once he realizes that his darling wife isn’t planning on putting their book down, he starts to tease her and it ends up with him going down on her while she tries to continue reading.

i love your writing!!

oh my love

benedict bridgerton x reader

synopsis: you can’t get enough of your book and your husband can’t seem to get his hands off of you

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you didn’t even hear him come in. you had been too enthralled in your novel, toes curling as the pages got spicier and spicier. yet, the clamor he had made drew you out of the fantasy, and left you slamming it shut.

“can i not have some quiet time? this is a library after all, for reading..” you spat at benedict, who was busy turning to a new page in his sketchbook. he cleared his throat, and took out a piece of charcoal, “i’m going to pretend as if you didn’t say that.” he hummed, and began to sketch.

“why?” you picked up your book, adjusting the way you were sitting in the chair.

“because it hurt my feelings.” he didn’t even look up from his sketchbook to catch the sight of you rolling your eyes.

you didn’t even respond and minutes later, benedict got up, setting his things down.

he walked over to you, and you glanced up, shutting the book again, “can i help you?” you were getting annoyed. as much as you loved him, sometimes you couldn’t stand him.

and this was one of those moments.

“benedict!” you shrieked as he grabbed the book from your hands. you stood up and ran to grab it, but he had thrown it up in the air, and you were struggling to reach it. your face was buried in his chest as you strained an arm to grab your book.

but he wasn’t budging. he held it tightly in his arm above you, “come on, you know you want it..” he teased you, a finger booping your nose. but that only got you even more mad, “we don’t have kids yet and you won’t be able to if you keep this up.” you threatened him, and it worked, as benedict with a frown on his face, handed you the book.

“thank you.” you spoke breathlessly and went to sit at the large loveseat in the center of the room. you kicked your slippers off and relaxed on it, head on the armrest with your feet just on the top of the seat.

benedict huffed and walked back to his chair.

you hoped it would stay like that. the two of you existing in silence. until you realized that benedict had been slowly scooting his chair closer to you.

“what are you doing?” you set the open book on your chest and watched him, hands still in the pages.

he shrugged, “trying to spend time with my wife. like i’ve been trying to do for the past hour!” he threw his hands up in exasperation and you sighed, “fine! do whatever you want, just don’t let it disrupt my book.”

if he wanted to coexist in the library with you, that was fine. if he wanted to just sit there with you, that was also fine.

but his fingers trailing up your legs was on the border of fine.

“ben..” you said his name lazily as you felt the cool air hit your thighs, but he didn’t say anything.

you continued to read, but benedict was being too quiet, and even more so when you realize he was pulling your undergarments off. you grabbed his hand, the one that was holding the plush of your belly and peeked out from the book, “you said as long as it doesn’t disrupt your reading..”

he was right. you had said that, and he was being ever so quiet. so you let him continue.

moments rolled by and benedict was pushing your legs apart, tongue already on your cunt as he did so.

“fuck.” you muttered, surprised at the feeling, you focused, knowing this was exactly what he wanted.

benedict hummed, and you twitched slightly. he wanted to laugh, but he was determined. his tongue swirled around and he tasted you, he wanted to take you right here right now, but he had to wait. he had to wait until you finally discarded that book and focused on him.

you moaned softly, unable to stop yourself, you tried your best to keep them quiet, but benedict was too good.

benedict was so good, that on your wedding night, you had let the entire ton know just by your screams and your cries of pleasure.

benedict felt the hard slam of a book against his head and he pulled back, “ow!” he rubbed his head and you were so weak that you couldn’t even react.

the expression on your face told benedict that he had won.

“sorry.” the word was mumbled as the book dropped to the ground, and benedict’s fingers were taking over the absence of his tongue.

he rammed into you, and you were moaning, head falling harder into the armrest, you were so close.

benedict could feel it, you were tight around his fingers and he knew he had to get you there.

his mouth was on you again in an instant, and as the pressure built up, your moans got higher and higher until it snapped.

you were shaking, cursed and strings of moans echoed into the room and benedict was enamored with watching you fall apart.

“oh my love..” you were panting, chest falling hard as you blinked. benedict was clearly pleased with himself, and kissed your thighs, “mhm..more?” you didn’t even finish nodding before he was on you again.

[rainbowmilk]

Don’t Forget Me II

I was not planning on writing another part, but I couldn’t help myself

Warning: Language (?)

Treech x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

series masterlist | <- Prev Next -> |

After the mayor finishes his speech, it only takes seconds before Peacekeepers grab you. They rip you and Treech apart, ignoring your shouts of protest. Treech tries to reach for your hand again, but the Peacekeepers yank him back, nearly knocking him over.

The soldiers marched you to the train station towards an old cargo car locked with a heavy padlock. As you stood in front of the train car, you nearly gagged. The stench was overwhelming. The cart smelled rotted and thick with manure. You doubt they’d even bothered to clean it. You desperately didn’t want to get in, but you had no choice.

One of the Peacekeepers took out a set of keys to unlock the train, and the rest started shoving you in. Treech acted quickly, lugging himself in and stretching his arm out to help you up. But it must’ve taken too long because a peacekeeper grabbed you by the back of the neck and tossed you onto the train. You barely managed to catch yourself.

Treech rushed to your side, pulling you up off the ground. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you?” he questioned as he cupped your face, eyes scanning you for injuries.

“I’m fine, just tired of being treated like a sack of flour.” You chuckled bitterly while rubbing your neck.

District Seven was one of the last districts to get picked up, so you didn’t have to spend nearly as long on the train as other districts. A thought that filled you with relief when you felt something crawling near your feet. You could vaguely see the outlines of the other tributes. Though none of them made much noise. You could almost believe you were alone.

As the train chugged along, you and Treech shuffled over to an empty corner, trying to get comfortable. He grabs your hand and plays with it gently, his fingers interlocking with yours. Something about the action brings tears to your eyes. You never considered your hands pretty, filled with callouses from hours of demanding work, but by the way, he holds them, they might as well be made of porcelain.

When you first spoke to Treech, you’d quite literally fallen for him. Despite being in the same class, you’d never directly spoken. He was always surrounded by his friends, his laugh filling up the room (not that you were paying attention). You mostly kept to yourself. Honestly, you don’t know what made him approach you that day, but you’re so grateful he did.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“What are you doing?” a small voice exclaimed up at you.

You jumped at the sudden noise and slipped from the branch you were perched on. You weren’t very high up, but the impact left you gasping for breath.

As you lay on the ground, your vision was blurred, but you could make out a boy peering down at you. His eyes narrowed slightly in concern.

After you regained your bearings, you grumbled, “Well, before you interrupted me, I was drawing.”

“Oh…Sorry,” the boy chuckled awkwardly. He fidgeted slightly before asking, “Can I see your drawing? I’m Treech, by the way. We go to school together…In case you don’t know who I am.”

You wanted to roll your eyes. Of course, you knew who Treech was. You lived across from each other and were in the same class. You decided not to mention that, hoping to spare yourself the embarrassment of him not noticing.

“I know who you are, and no, you can’t see,” you respond before climbing back up the tree.

You were going to continue sketching until you noticed he was still standing there looking oddly dejected. A wave of guilt hits you when you realize you may have come off as rude.

“Hey, sorry... I didn’t mean it like that. I’ll show you when I’m done if you want to join me,” you say before patting the branch.

Treech perked up at that, beaming up at you. You decide he looks much nicer when smiling. He climbed up the tree, plopping himself next to you. Neither of you talked after that. You continued to sketch, and he sat with you, swinging his legs back and forth.

Soon enough, it became routine that whenever you went to the tree, he’d be there waiting for you. You started talking at school as well. Slowly, he became a constant presence in your life. Now, years later, you can confidently say he’s your best friend.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The sound of the whistleblowing snapped you back to the present. You must be arriving at a station. The train screeched as it came to a halt. From the outside, you could hear the chains rattling as they were unlocked. The doors slid open, and the District One tributes were staring back at you. In what felt like seconds, they were hastily thrown into the cart, and the door was locked once again.

The journey to the Capitol couldn’t have taken much longer, but it felt like an eternity in the damp train. Eventually, you heard the familiar whistle, and the train slowed to a stop. The tributes started shuffling, but the minutes passed, and nothing happened. At least another ten minutes must’ve passed before you heard banging against the doorframe. The door was wrenched open, and a peacekeeper shouted, “All right, you lot, let’s move!”

The sudden influx of light was nearly blinding. You had to take a moment to adjust. Treech is one step ahead of you, already jumping down before offering you his arms. You allow him to take you by the waist and swing you down to the pavement.

You were grateful for Treech’s quick reaction as you watched the Peacekeepers get rougher the longer it took the remaining tributes to crawl out. You take a moment to look around under different circumstances, you’d be gawking at the architecture, but that all feels insignificant now. While looking around, you see a boy dressed in red talking to one of the tributes. He looks too clean to be a tribute but too skinny to be a Peacekeeper.

You didn’t get much time to ponder who he was because Peacekeepers began herding you and the rest of the tributes across the station to the main entrance. Where a truck that looked more like a cage on wheels awaited you.

The tribute who is missing part of his arm, tried to make a run for it, but he didn’t even make a few feet before he was dragged back. You hopped onto the cramped van, and Treech immediately guided you into one of the last open seats before positioning himself next to you.

From the corner of your eye, you saw a flash of red jump moments before the doors closed. To your surprise, it was the boy from the train station. A thick tension settled over the truck as you all stared him down. He hunched over, realizing his precarious situation. You turned your head to meet Treech’s eyes. Both of you amused at the boy's obvious discomfort.

“What’s the matter, pretty boy? You in the wrong cage?” said the boy from District 11 Reaper, if you remember correctly. How ironic, you can’t help but think.

You missed what the Capitol boy said, but it must've been something insulting because, in the blink of an eye, Reaper’s hands encircled the boy's throat and slammed him back. Reaper’s forearms pinned the other boy’s body against the bars. Trying to keep himself from being killed, the Capitol boy drove his knee up hard into Reaper’s crotch. You wanted to laugh, but you doubt that would’ve been received well.

He might kill you now.” The girl from District 11 coughed out. “He killed a Peacekeeper back in Eleven. They never found out who did it.”

“Shut it, Dill,” the boy growled.

“Who cares now?” said the girl fro—Dill.

“Let’s all kill him,” said another voice, “Can’t do nothing worse to us.”

You wouldn’t consider yourself bloodthirsty, but a part of you agreed, besides the Capitol boy brought it on himself. Several other tributes also murmured in agreement and took a step in. The way the boy went rigid with fear almost made you pity him.

Before anyone could do anything, the rainbow girl spoke up. “Not to us, maybe. You got family back home? Someone they could punish there?”

With that, all the anger was sucked out of you, replaced with a gaping hopelessness. The girl then stood up and wriggled through to place herself between all of you and the Capitol boy.

“Besides,” she said, “he’s my mentor. Supposed to help me. I might need him.”

“How come you get a mender?” Snapped a girl with short red hair. Glaring daggers into the Capitol boy. You couldn’t help but agree. Why did she get extra help?

“Mentor. You each get one,” he corrected.

“Where are they, then?” The redhead challenged. “Why didn’t they come?”

“Just not inspired, I guess,” the rainbow girl replied before winking at her mentor.

You turned to Treech again and dramatically rolled your eyes. The small smile that graced his face filled your chest with warmth. Sometimes, you wished he wasn’t so good-looking. You hated that one smile was all it took to make butterflies swarm your stomach.

The conversation lulled, and silence filled the truck as it drove down the winding roads. Suddenly, the truck lurched to a stop, jerking all of you forward. At that moment you were grateful you had nothing in your stomach because you’d surely have thrown it up.

A Peacekeeper came and opened the back door to the truck, but before anyone could climb out, the cage tipped and dumped you onto a slab of cold, damp cement. Not a slab, actually more like a chute, it was tilted at such an extreme angle that all of you began to slide immediately. You all traveled a good twenty feet before landing in a jumbled heap on the floor.

You gingerly untangled from the others before making your way over to Treech. Cringing at the groans from the tributes you accidentally crawled on top of.

You brushed his hair back and readjusted his hat, “Treech,” you whispered, “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, don't worry” he responded as he pulled you into his arms. You allow yourself to relax, nuzzling into his shoulder. Trying to calm down from the chaos of the day.

It isn’t until you hear a small giggle that you turn around and see two young girls pointing at the two of you. They watch you through metal bars, gawking. You pull away slightly, feeling oddly self-conscious. Treech seems to notice as well, looking equally uncomfortable.

Confused, you start to scan the area. Metal bars enclose you. To your left, there is a cluster of thin trees, and rocky sand lines the ground. Suddenly a nauseating realization hits you.

They’d put you in a fucking zoo.

[spqcebunsforever]

Billy Loomis & Stu Macher with an artistic reader

Billy Loomis

Don’t get me wrong Billy thought you were a great artist but honestly, at the start of your relationship, he didn’t really care much and wasn’t that interested because he wasn't the greatest fan of drawings and paintings However, everything changed the moment he saw your sketchbook.

Seeing all the sketches that you had done of him made this boys ego grow like crazy. He was so honoured that you had decided to sketch him because he won’t tell anyone but the boy is definitely a little self-conscious so seeing that you thought he was good enough to get drawn definitely helped him a lot.

He now always looks over your shoulder when you’re sketching or painting to see what you’re doing and will keep you company while you working he loves watching the progress of your art. And he finds watching you paint is strangely relaxing.

If you ever ask this boy if he can pose and be your model so you can sketch him he will act like it’s not a big deal but on the inside, he is squealing because he loves feeling like he is contributing to your art.

You are definitely getting asked to draw all his favourite characters from his favourite horror movies and he would probably also ask you to draw him in his ghost face costume.

Under his bed, Billy has a box where he keeps all the drawings that you give him but the ghost face drawing is always kept in his pocket and he calls it his lucky charm.

Stu Macher

Stu loves and I mean loves your art. He will always ask you to draw him something and he doesn’t care if you draw him a stick man he would still get it hung and put it on his bedroom wall and call it the best thing he has ever seen.

He always goes through your sketchbooks (always asks you first though) and will constantly give you compliments and shower you with praise. And if he sees that you’ve sketched him he will be over the moon he will spend hours just looking at the sketch’s saying that he hadn’t realised how attractive he was ;)

Constantly goes around and tells everyone how great you are at art he wants everyone to know how great his S/O is and how lucky he is to have them. This boy is not shy and will practically shout about how talented you are so be prepared.

Stu isn’t the greatest at drawing or painting or anything artsy but he likes to feel included so he bought himself a sketchbook and while you are drawing he will sit next to you and draw his own little creation that he will very proudly show you when he is finished.

Just like Billy, he would ask you to draw him in his ghost face costume and just like all the other drawings you give him he would hang it up on his bedroom wall but he will always point out to you that that’s his all-time favourite.

[kueble]

I Just Need You By My Side, Cause I'm Warmer in the Winter With You

Another very self-indulgent Christmas fic.

Teen. Warnings: Mentions of torture. 5,600 words.

Ghost/Soap

---

“Shouldn’t you be packing up?” Ghost asks him from where he leans against his doorway. Soap shrugs and sets down the pencil in his hand. He’s been sketching for about an hour now, trying to wind down at the end of a hectic day. Everyone on base is giddy at the thought of going home for the holidays, and the energy is almost overwhelming..

“Sorry, but you’ll have to get used to my ugly mug around here. I know you’re one of the only ones here most Christmases, but I don’t have anywhere else to be this year,” he explains, hoping years of interrogation techniques pay off and Ghost doesn’t call him on the lie. Though it’s partially true, since there’s nowhere he’d rather be then in the barracks with him.

“Don’t you usually have a big family celebration? Remember you rambling about nieces and nephews and being forced into midnight mass by your mother,” Ghost asks, eyes narrowing behind the black balaclava he’s chosen to wear today.

“Glad to know you actually listen to me when I shoot my mouth off,” he laughs out.

“Never miss a word, Johnny,” Ghost tells him evenly.

“So any other year, yeah I'd be home, but things are out of sorts this year with my sisters traveling to their husband’s families, and me Ma and Pa planned a little trip of their own,” he says. Sure, the little trip was right down the road to his brother’s house where everyone would be gathered like every other year, but no need for Ghost to know that.

Last year it was excruciating to leave Ghost on the tarmac, saying goodbyes as everyone else went home to their families. He doesn’t know much, but it’s clear Ghost no longer has anyone waiting for him back at home. They’d all joked about him haunting the base, probably maskless with the skeleton crew left behind and any other puns they could come up with. Still, there was a bleakness in Ghost’s eyes that he never wanted to see again.

Thankfully he’s never been able to hide his feelings from his parents, especially his mother, and she didn’t even bat an eye when he told her his plans. She’d said something cheesy about the magic of the season bringing them closer together, which he’d quickly scoffed off. He wasn’t doing this with any ulterior motives in place. It was a simple fact that his best friend shouldn’t be alone over the long holiday break they were lucky enough to get two years in a row.

If he happens to be completely ass over tits in love with him, he’s smart enough to keep it to himself.

“Guess it could be nice to have some company, even yours,” Ghost teases with a snort. Soap rolls his eyes, but he’s smirking still.

“Do you cook anything for it or rely on the mess hall for Christmas dinner?” he asks, already planning how to make things nicer for him. They may be stuck on a mostly empty base, but there’s no reason why he can’t make it as comfortable as possible.

“Sometimes I make a pot of soup for the week, but nothing special for the day itself. Tend to keep to myself,” he says softly. And that just won’t do.

“Happy to help sample anything you cook, but since I burn water, I’ll order us something nice from town. It shouldn’t be too late for a small catering order. You like lasagna?” he asks, already thinking of the perfect little Italian place near here.

“Wouldn’t say no to it, but there’s no need to get fancy over me,” Ghost mumbles. It only makes Soap more determined to bring a little Christmas magic into his life this year.

“I’ll take care of dinner and you just bring the good company,” he says to settle it. He’ll place an order first thing in the morning, already planning to buy way more food than they need. Ghost deserves to be spoiled, and leftovers are a rare commodity around here.

“Not sure I’ll contribute much in that regard, but yeah, I can show up,” he agrees.

“No one else I’d rather spend the day with. Honestly,” Soap admits, but Ghost just huffs at him.

“Piss off, Johnny,” he says with a laugh. Before he can figure out a response, the man is already gone. It may just be the hardest thing he’s ever done, but he’s damned sure going to make sure Ghost knows how much Soap likes being around him, especially now. Likes, not loves, because he has a feeling that’s something he’ll take to his grave. Being around him will just have to do for now.

—

The poster fell off the wall for the three thousandth time, and Soap barely managed to keep himself in check. Price would have his head if he blew up the base, but it’s getting more and more likely. It’s a stupid thing, really, just a fake Christmas tree by a fireplace, but he bought it to cheer up their rec room. He grumbles under his breath, reciting every swear he knows and probably inventing some new ones along the way.

“Problems, Sergeant?” Ghost asks from his spot on the couch. There’s a hint of laughter on the edges of his voice, and Soap spins around to glare at him.

“There is in fact,” he spits out before taking a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down. No use in pissing off the man he’s trying to decorate for. “These walls are apparently covered in fifty some years of filth, and I can’t get the damn tape to stick. Seriously, it’s like teflon and I’m actually afraid to think about what could be coating this wall right now.”

“This that important to you?” Ghost asks, head tilted like he’s studying him.

“Aye,” Soap sighs out. “Just wanted to brighten up the room a bit. We can’t have a real tree, and I’ve been banned from open flames on base, but I thought this stupid fucking poster might work. Wanna sneak off base and burn it with me? Might raise my spirits.”

“How about I fix it instead,” Ghost says, standing up to stomp over to the wall.

“You’re more than welcome to try, but not even sure duct tape will hold the damn thing at this point,” he says, scowling at the wall. Seriously, he was going to beg Price to get the room deep cleaned as soon as he was back on base. Can’t be safe.

Ghost shrugs before bumping him out of the way with his hip. He holds the poster with one hand and reaches into the back of his jeans with the other. The knife he pulls out is on the small side, but it does the job when he stabs it through the poster and into the wall. Nodding proudly, he slides another knife out of his sleeve and buries it in the other top corner. The final blade is tucked in his boot, and he takes a few steps back before flinging it at the wall.

It lands perfectly in the bottom center of the poster, and Soap chubs up in his sweats at the display of skill.

“Guess that works, too,” he murmurs, actively avoiding Ghost’s gaze. No need to show off how fucking gone on him he is, and he knows there’s hearts in his eyes right now. He’s bound to be suspicious just based on how desperate Soap is to make things perfect, to give him a better Christmas than year past, and he should try better to keep his feelings hidden. Not looking to get his heart broken over the holidays.

“Anything for you, Johnny,” Ghost tells him as he strides back to the couch and picks up his book again. Soap can feel his cheeks heating up and blurts out some half-assed excuse before making a tactful retreat.

—

He debates waiting until morning, but Soap is too curious about the package in his hands to wait that long. His box of gifts from his family arrived today, but he didn’t bother unpacking it until after dinner. Everything was neatly labeled - or scribbled by his nieces and nephews - with his name except for one.

To Ghost, From Ma MacTavish. Open Immediately.

Not one to disobey his mother, Soap raps on Ghost’s door and hopes this isn’t something too embarrassing. Lord knows his entire family is annoying enough already over his little crush, and he doesn’t need his mother stepping in to help him. There’s a rustling from behind the door before it’s swung open by a brooding Ghost. Anyone else might not see how moody he is, but Soap can tell just by studying his eyes.

“What do ya need?” he asks, voice cracking from disuse.

“Got a special delivery for you and instructions for you to open it right away,” Soap informs him, holding up the package like the peace offering that it is. Ghost eyes it suspiciously but steps aside and lets him into the room. While he’d love a chance to look around, Soap keeps his focus on Ghost out of respect for his privacy. He knows just letting him into the room was a big step for the other man.

“Your mum sent this?” Ghost asks as he takes the parcel from him. Soap nods and smiles warmly as Ghost’s eyes widen. “Better not keep her waiting then,” Ghost mutters before sitting on the edge of his bed. The package looks huge, even in his large hands, and Soap really wonders what it could be.

He tears the paper at the seams, carefully working a finger down the edge of it. It’s gentle in a way that hints of Christmases past and perhaps being yelled at to keep the wrapping for next year. Soap’s grandma used to do that and iron out each crease to save money.

When Ghost finally removes the paper, soap breathes a sigh of relief at seeing the present isn’t anything to worry about. Trust his mother to try and take care of someone she’s never met. Ghost holds up the blanket, blinking slowly at it. Soap supposes he isn’t used to getting many gifts, especially not something handmade. The blanket itself is a mix of blank and white granny squares, no doubt crocheted with love by his mother. Everyone in their house has at least one of these piled at the foot of their bed, and his heart warms at the thought of Ghost having one on his.

“She made it?” he asks in a whisper, and Soap wants to cry about it. There’s no reason a gift should put him in such a state of awe, and he vows right then and there to spoil him as much as he’s allowed to under the guise of friendship.

“You’re looking at a Ma MacTavish special right there. Everyone in the family has one, and it looks like she thinks highly of you,” he confirms.

“Never even met me.”

“Well, I suppose I’ve entertained her with a tale of two of the man who saved my life so many times. Besides, how else do you think she’d know the perfect color scheme for an emo bastard like yourself,” He says in an attempt to lighten the mood. The corners of Ghost’s eyes crinkle up, and he knows there’s a smile beneath the mask.

“You’ll have to thank her for me. No, wait! I’ll get a thank you note together for the next time you send mail home. That alright?” he asks almost timidly, which isn’t an emotion Soap’s sure he’s ever shown before.

“She’ll love that. Sorry to barge in on you so late at night, but I’m glad I did. Should probably be heading to bed, though,” Johnny says with a pout. Dreams of being asked to stay, to tuck himself against Ghost under that very blanket flash through his mind and he has to get out of here quickly before he shows his hand.

“Me too. Night, Johnny,” Ghost says, and he understands it for the dismissal that it is. The last thing he sees as he ducks out the door is Ghost spreading the blanket across the top of his bed and smoothing it out. He’ll have to send his mother a thank you note as well.

—

There is absolutely no reason for them to be in Soap’s room instead of the rec room, but he wasn’t about to say no when Ghost suggested it. Currently they are sitting on his bed - which is way too small for two grown ass men - with their backs against the wall and his laptop propped on top of their thighs. Ghost is a constant warm presence at his side, and he’s pretty sure he would be completely lost if he hadn’t seen this movie so many times.

They each have a glass of their preferred poison in hand, and Ghost has his mask tucked up over his nose while he purses his lips at the screen in front of them. He is so fucking stunning with the light from the laptop highlighting the planes of his face, and Soap would be weak in the knees were he standing. Not that Soap is abusing his trust just to watch him more than the movie. Absolutely not. Still, the sight of Simon’s sharp jawline is a rare one and he can’t seem to stop staring. He longs to scrap his teeth over the scar that curves around it and has to hold himself back from scooting even closer to him.

“I don’t get it,” Ghost says, breaking him out of his dangerous thoughts.

“How so?” he asks, eyes already turned back to the screen to see what part of the movie they’ve reached. Nearly done at this point, but the silly plot has been a fun distraction. They don’t often get downtime, time totally free of responsibilities, and he hopes he can go without this once everything is back to normal.

“This just seems so improbable. His family forgot to bring him to the airport and they don’t have a single family friend they can call in the meantime? The police are actively searching for these two assholes and yet a child is the only one who manages to take them down? Gotta admit some of these traps are pretty awesome, though,” Ghost rambles out.

“One, I can’t believe you’ve made it this far in life without watching this. Two, this film is a masterpiece because it makes you suspend reality. Three, I’m pretty sure this is why I ended up in demolitions anyway. Do you know how many things I blew up after seeing this? I thought my Pa was going to murder me just as an example for my brothers and sisters. One time I rigged a frying pan to hit my brother in the face and it broke his fucking nose,” Soap says, unable to hold in his laughter. “Pretty sure he was about to pack me off and make me Nan deal with me, but my Ma couldn’t let her baby go.”

“You’re a real piece of work, Johnny,” Ghost tells him softly. He brings his glass up to his mouth, and Soap watches him swallow slowly, desperately trying to remind himself how they’re friends and nothing more. “Glad it brought you to me, though.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out, heart pounding in his chest.

But then they fall into an easy silence, and he’s forced to turn back to the movie. They both finish their drinks as the plot winds down, and he’s about to offer another when Ghost grabs his wrist to stop him from standing up. He looks down, worried that he’s overstepped somehow, and the tightness in Ghost’s clenched jaw startles him.

“We’ve had a good week, yeah?” Ghost asks quietly.

“Loved every second of it,” Soap blurts out before he can stop himself.

“Might not love this so much,” Ghost says with a sigh. “I’ve…I’ve never been this close with anyone, barely even shared this with Price, but I’d like to give you some sort of explanation for why I keep to myself at Christmas. If you’ll listen, that is.”

“Ghost, I will always be here, no matter what you want to tell me. Thank you for trusting me so much, but are you sure you want to do this while we’re drinking?” he has to ask, needs to be sure his friend won’t regret this come morning.

“You think I just keep bourbon and scotch on hand? That’s kinda the reason why I brought it with me. I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while now, but I needed a little courage to do it. Just, just don’t say anything until I’m done, ok? If you do I might not be able to finish,” he warns him, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Sensing how important this is, Soap sets both their glasses on his bedside table and closes the laptop. His desk lamp is on, so they’re not totally in the dark. He knows rumors of Ghost’s past, has heard a bunch of shit about his time in captivity, but every scrap of information is dear to him. He longs to know the man beside him better than he knows himself. He leans back against the wall and angles his body towards Ghost before saying, “Course. I got you.”

“When I was little, the only person I cared about was my mum. She kept me safe, kept my dad and brother away from me the best she could. I know now that my brother was only doing what he could to avoid my dad’s rage, but it still hurt back then. I won’t lie, I had a real shitty childhood and ran into the service as soon as I could. After that, things started improving. I came back home, kicked my sorry excuse for a father out of the house, and got my brother off of drugs. Hell, I stood beside him as he married the love of his life, and I wouldn’t give that up for anything, but the memories threaten to crush me sometimes.”

He trails off and palms the back of his head, chewing at his lower lip. Soap stays silent, unwilling to break his promise even though Ghost looked on the verge of falling apart. They sit there for a long moment while he regroups and continues his story. Soap longs to reach out, to offer some sort of physical comfort, but he knows better than to act on it. Simon doesn’t enjoy being touched on a good day, and he’d absolutely hate it while letting himself be this vulnerable.

“Things were going well until I got betrayed and snagged by Roba. Fuck, Johnny,” he breaks off, swallowing thickly before pressing his fingers to his mouth. “It was bad. I won’t go into details, but you can only be tortured for so long before you start to doubt yourself, start to go mad instead of trying to fight it. I have no fucking clue how I managed to survive after being left for dead, but I eventually made it back home.”

Ghost shifts his legs, twitching as he picks at the fabric of his sweats. He takes a few deep breaths and stares ahead at the wall, shoulders tense as he continues. “They died on Christmas, and it was all my fault. Roba still had his hooks in me, and couldn't let me go since I escaped with my life. One more betrayal led me back to my mum’s house that only hours before had been full of celebration and Christmas cheer. When I got there, the whole house was up in flames. The fire was so hot, but I had to save them. Only it was too late, because they were lying dead near the doorway. They even put a bullet through the forehead of my nephew. He was so small, so fragile, and I couldn’t even save him.”

He falls quiet, and it seems like he’s finished. Soap knew it was bad, but wasn’t expecting something so tragic. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he just lays a hand on Ghost’s shoulder and squeeze it gently, deciding to risk the touch at this point. It seems to shatter something inside of him and he slumps over to lean on Soap’s shoulder.

“The men involved?” he asks quietly.

“Killed them all. Didn’t bring back my family, though. So yeah, Christmas fucking sucks, but at least I’m not alone this year. Didn’t know it would be easier with you here, but you always manage to help me stay calm. Should have expected it,” he says. His voice is tinged with exhaustion, and Soap knows he’s worn himself out.

“Thank you for trusting me with this. I, it’s, well it’s fucked up that you had to experience that. I know nothing I say can help make it much better, and I’m honestly not sure how you managed to get through it, but I’m grateful you did. I can’t imagine being here without you,” Soap says after a long moment. He knew Ghost has a shitty past, had heard about him digging himself out of his own grave, but this is a whole new level of horrible. If it happened to him, he can’t say he would still be here to talk about it.

“Price helped a lot. Pushed me through it and then kept me around,” Ghost says, turning to stare at the wall. Soap isn’t sure what he can offer at this point, but he has the feeling Ghost might not want to be alone after unloading all of this.

“Stay with me?” he asks, watching as Ghost’s shoulders rise up. He still isn’t looking at him, so he keeps talking. “I mean, you don’t have to, but I can’t imagine wanting to be by myself after such an intense conversation. Would feel bad if I let you go back to your room, really.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t actually sleep with the mask on,” Ghost says with a chuckle. And ok, he can work with that.

“So let me freshen up and get myself ready for bed. You can go after me, and I’ll just sleep on my side. I can keep my eyes shut, give you your privacy,” he suggests. Ghost finally turns to look at him, and there’s a telltale hint of red around his eyes. If Soap was still religious, he’d offer up a prayer that the other man agrees. He clearly needs comforting tonight.

“Yeah, ok,” Ghost mumbles. “Gonna change into my sleep stuff, though. I’ll get ready in my room and be back in a few.”

He practically leaps out of the bed, and Soap hopes he holds true to his word. He goes through his nightly routine on autopilot, not even aware of it until he’s crawling into his bed. He leaves the side of the covers up and turns onto his side to face the wall. It’s only just catching up to him that he invited Ghost into his bed, but tonight isn’t about him. He’d be offering the same closeness to Gaz if he shared something as horrific as Ghost just did.

If anything, this only proves how amazingly strong Ghost is. He had to reinvent himself twice, the second time with no one to support him. They’ve all seen and done some really horrendous things in the name of queen and country, but he can’t fathom coming home to find the burning bodies of his family at his feet.

He’s yanked out of his spiraling thoughts by the sound of the door opening and shutting. The clunk of Ghost setting down his boots seems impossibly loud in the silence, and he holds his breath waiting for Ghost to come to bed. He hears the muffled sound of Ghost removing his mask and setting it on the bedside table and fights the urge to turn around and look at his gorgeous face. He’s here as a friend tonight, and his feelings don’t matter right now.

The bed dips behind him, and the covers shift as Ghost settles in behind him. There’s an awkward few seconds where they both shuffle around trying to figure out how two large men can fit in such a small bed, but then Ghost sighs and rolls onto his side to frame Soap from behind. He slings an arm across Soap’s hips and presses his nose against the nape of Soap’s neck. The last thing he hears as he drifts off is a soft, “Thank you, Johnny.”

—

Unsurprisingly, Ghost is gone when he wakes up. The bed is still warm, though, so he knows he spent the whole night. He wishes he could have woken him up with a Merry Christmas, but understands his need for time to himself. Chris, last night had been a lot. Hopefully he can still provide a little holiday cheer tonight, but even if they eat in silence he’ll have a great time. Every second spent at Ghost’s side is a better gift than anything he could ever fine underneath the tree.

He spends the morning in the gym, working out his frustrations. Life wasn’t fair, but it has been exceedingly rotten towards Ghost. He knows there isn’t anything he can do to change his past, but he’ll damn sure be here for his future. It feels like they crossed a line last night, but he’s not sure which one. Nothing romantic happened, but he feels closer to Ghost than anyone before. He’s willing to bet Ghost hasn’t opened up this much to many people, probably just Price, and he’s ashamed at how giddy that makes him feel.

They might not ever be together, but they’ll always be solid.

After lunch and a long, self-indulgent shower it’s easy to keep himself busy by running through last minute preparations. They hadn’t said anything about exchanging gifts, but Soap kept finding the perfect things for him.He knows Ghost will love the aged bourbon, even though it hurt his Scottish heart to buy it. There’s also a new knife that came highly recommended by their armorer and a deck of cards with holographic skulls on them. Wrapping was never his strong suit, but he managed to slap some paper onto his gifts. Sure, it looked like they were wrapped by a small child, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

He just finishes heating up the catering he picked up the day before and is about to text Ghost to hurry up and join him when his phone goes off. It’s an incoming FaceTime from his mother, and he decides there’s plenty of time to take it before Ghost swings by. He’s been missing his family all day, but they promised to call at some point.

“Ma! Happy Christmas!” he shouts, laughing as his entire family tries to crowd into the camera view.

“You’ll each get a turn, back off,” his mother says, already throwing elbows at his siblings and their kids. His dad stands next to her, silent as always but with a huge smile on his face. He lifts his glass in cheers, and Johnny waves back in response.

“We’re about to eat dinner, but It’s good to see you all. Make sure everyone gets hugs from me, even though I’m not with you this year. And pass out my presents! Make sure the kids know how much Uncle John spoils them. I want photographic evidence!” he says, laughing as one of his nieces tries to jump into the view again. His dad picks her up and wanders off, no doubt about to bribe her into behaving with cookies.

“I hope staying away is worth it,” his mother says, but she doesn’t look mad, just nosy. She’s been on him for months to bring his boy home, no matter how much he tells her they aren’t dating. Ghost is one hundred percent his boy, though, even if he hasn’t realized it yet.

“It’s worth every second away from you all,” he answers honestly, “I’ll be home as soon as we get more downtime, but you know why I have to be here. Thanks for understanding.”

“Anything for my baby,” his mom says, snorting when he scowls at her.

“You ever going to stop calling me that?” he asks, knowing full well she never will. He isn’t mad, not really, just likes to give her grief about it.

“If you didn’t want to be my baby, you’d have been born higher up the chain,” she tells him with a smirk.

“We can argue about it later. Let me get dinner on the table and then we’ll chat again later, yeah? We can pass around the phone so all the kids can show me everything they got,” he suggests, and his mom nods in response.

“Go feed your boy,” she tells him and ends the call before he can quip back at her.

“Not my boy,” he mumbles to the empty room.

But then someone clears their throat from behind him, and his heart sinks into his chest. Fuck. He spins around with a fake smile on his face to find Ghost standing there with his arms crossed.

“I’m assuming you heard all of that?” he asks with a grimace.

“You lied about your family not being together,” Ghost says, though he knows it’s a question.

“Aye, I did. And I don’t feel bad about it. I couldn’t leave you here alone again. Like it or not, I’m here for you,” he says with a sharp nod. He’s already gearing for a fight, ready to be stubborn as hell about it, but what Ghost says next throws him off his game.

“Because I’m your boy,” he asks, and Johnny can hear the fucking smirk in his voice. He has a plain balaclava on today, which is as dressed down as Ghost seems to get.

“Don’t suppose you’d be willing to let that one go? We can forget about it,” he offers quietly. Because who is he to keep dreaming, right? He’s been dropping hints for at least a year now, and Ghost hasn’t taken the bait. He teeter-totters between thinking the man returns his feelings to thinking he barely tolerates him. Regardless, he meant what he said and he’ll be standing by his side as long as Ghost lets him.

“And if I don’t want to forget it? What if I wanted to be your boy? Though I’d prefer man, if we’re being honest here,” Ghost says, and he freezes while his brain catches up.

“You fucking with me?” he asks, just because he needs to know, needs to be sure before he makes a fool of himself. Well, more of a fool than he already has.

“No, but we could fool around later if dinner goes well,” Ghost tells him, laughing as he reaches up and pulls the mask off. He tosses it onto the table, barely missing the salad bowl.

And fuck, he’s a bonnie lad. Soap can’t even speak, just stands there staring at him, eyes trailing over every exposed inch of his face, committing it to memory in case this is the last time he sees it for a while. “You’re stunning,” he whispers in awe. Then he has the pleasure of watching Ghost’s face darken, the apples of his cheeks turning pink and making the freckles dotting them stand out even more.

“Shut up,” he murmurs before stepping closer. “But yeah, I’m all in if you want this too. Want me. I’m sick of wasting time. Maybe next year we can be with your family instead of me keeping you stuck on base.”

“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life,” he says truthfully. “And I’d rather be stuck here every single year if you prefer it. But you heard my Ma. She wants you home with me.”

“Let’s make sure we make it to next Christmas, then,” he jokes, but there’s a hint of worry in his tone.

“Never letting go of you now,” Soap warns him with a laugh. Ghost chuckles and moves in so close the toes of their boots touch.

“Hard to let go if you haven’t even touched me yet,” he points out. And fuck if his smirk isn’t as lovely as Soap had imagined. It’s crooked, a scar bisecting the left side, but it’s perfect to him.

“Better fix that. Can I kiss you, Ghost?” he asks softly.

“Simon. Call me Simon when we’re alone,” he says breathily, and Soap knows how out of his comfort zone he is right now.

“Simon, can I kiss you? Please?” he asks and Simon just nods at him.

And so he does. He cups Simon’s cheeks, brushing a thumb across the constellation of freckles there, and leans in to press their mouths together. It seems almost anticlimactic after all their flirting, but the feel of Simon’s chapped lips against his is one of the best things he’s ever experienced. He can almost feel the tension leave both their bodies as they melt into each other. He keeps things light, pulls back before thinking better and darting back for another quick kiss.

Kissing Simon isn’t a burst of fireworks, but it’s like coming home which is even more perfect.

“Would now be a good time to tell you I’m really fucking in love with you?” he asks teasingly.

“Only if I can say the same,” Simon says, chuckling as he palms the back of Johnny’s head and drags him into another kiss.

And if they stand there kissing in the middle of the rundown rec room, lost in each other long after their dinner has gone cold, it’s no one's business but their own.

[ash-is-dying]

Temporary Tattoo

A/N: Felt compelled to write a quick blurb after drawing one of these on my own hand. Idk guys the delulu is really getting to me today. Anyway enjoy!

Shy!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 782

Fluffy / Mildy Spicy Blurb

---

“Just stay still Eddie!”

“But you’re taking forever!”

The pen runs over his knuckles as you outline the bones on his hand. You had spent the entirety of calculus at the back drawing on Eddie’s hand. He had breached the topic of getting a skeleton hand tattoo so you had made the generous offer to be his temporary tattoo artist.

His various rings had been scattered across the desk and the sleeve of his hellfire shirt had been rolled the full way up his arm exposing his actual tattoos alongside the detailed sketch on his left hand. You sat knee to knee with the boy as the arm you’re drawing with pins his arm to the table and the other holds his hand flat.

For someone who was covered in hidden tattoos you’re genuinely surprised by how much he moved while you were working and how whiney he was being about you taking too long.

“How long?”

“Eddie I haven’t even done your wrist yet. Chill your balls. We’ve still got half an hour anyway.”

He throws his head back and sighs deeply. His other hand starts to fidget, miming the chords for some metal song or another. His eyes close and he looks like a toddler who’s been denied chocolate from the shops. His head lolls to the side to look at you.

You’re completely oblivious to the look he gives you as he studies your concentrated face, biting your lip and your brows furrowed as you smoothed over the outlines you had drawn. Unbeknownst to you the real reason he was so all over the place wasn’t because the tattoo was taking too long.

It was because you were the one drawing it.

When you had started your gentle touches had left him flinching, moving towards your warm hands. Hence the need for physical restraint. Eddie’s cheeks flushed the moment you had wrestled his arm under yours, your closeness making his heart jump start. He could spend hours here just having you draw all over him. He’d let you fill every gap between his tats if it meant he could keep you like this.

The only reason he was now encouraging you to hurry was because he didn’t need the artist girl he’d been crushing on for months noticing the semi he was sporting. He had tried to slide further under the desk to make it less obvious but the hold you had on his arm was making things increasingly harder.

In both ways.

“I don’t think we need to do the wrist, just my hand is fine-” he said sharply.

“But didn’t you want a half-sleeve anyway? Thought you wanted me to try the whole tattoo.”

“As cool as that would be I kinda need my arm back sweetheart-” He says with an edge of panic in his voice.

“Okay okay, I’ll be done in ten.”

The next ten minutes were probably the longest ten minutes of his life.

For the fine detailing you had made the decision that you needed to get even closer. You had rotated his arm and had folded your leg over his, just adjacent to where he desperately needed you not to be. He watched anxiously as you shifted to finish off the tattoo. He genuinely tried to sink into his chair and disappear. If you had even a hint of what was happening under the desk he would be absolutely mortified.

“Why do you get so many tattoos Eds?”

Her sudden question pulls him out of his head. “Oh- um. I guess because they look cool? And they help me express a part of myself that I want to show people rather than tell them about.”

“Fair enough.” There’s a long pause. “Can I ask you something?”

Eddie’s brows raise in concern. “Yes?”

“Do you get this turned on for all your tattoo artists or just me?”

The silence is deafening as his eyes widen in shock and realization. He stutters as you move off of his lap unable to find the words. The bell goes and you begin to pack up your things not sparing him a glance until you put your hand on his shoulder and lean to whisper in his ear.

“If you ever need another tattoo done… call me okay.”

You give his cheek a quick peck as you turn away and walk out of the room with a flush on your face, leaving behind an extremely flustered and red faced Eddie. He looks down at his arm. It’s amazing of course. But what really catches his eye is the messily written phone number on the underside of his arm.

Maybe he will get another temporary tattoo.

[lieslab]

My Muse

Summary: Hyunjin has a rough day at work. After trying to take out his stress by drawing you, it’s not working. It’s up to you to help make him feel better. 

Word Count: 1,260

Genre: Fluff 

Read the last post: 🥒

_ _ _

Hyunjin hadn’t said much since he came back home from work. He mentioned yesterday that today the band was going to spend half of the day recording new music and the other half was going to be spent learning new choreography for a song. 

He had left for work cheerily as ever. You had packed him his lunch and written a brief sweet note and stuck it in his lunchbox. You knew that he was hard on himself sometimes. You couldn’t be with him physically, so the notes you sent every day were the next best option. 

When he came through the front door, a frown sat on his face. The corners of his mouth were lower than they normally were. You knew the drill. At times like this, he didn’t want to be coddled. He didn’t want your love and affection during these times. 

The two of you had agreed that when Hyunjin came home upset from work, you wouldn’t overwhelm him. No kisses, no tender touches, nothing. He just wanted to be left alone and yet you still craved his presence. So the two of you would sit in the same room. Still with each other and yet far away. 

Lost in your own forms of escapism while still being near. It made both of you content. When Hyunjin had finally worked himself out of one of his moods, you’d be there. Ready to kiss away the stagnant remainders of whatever unpleasant funk was left behind. 

Today was no different. You were curled up on the couch with a book when he entered. Glancing over at him, you didn’t bother getting up off the couch. “Welcome home,” you called out and then you went back to your book. 

Hyunjin kicked off his shoes, hung up his jacket, muttered a similar greeting and went back to the back of the house. You ignored it and continued flipping through the pages of your latest novel. You had been wanting to read this one for a while, so you had been glued to the couch reading it for over an hour. 

Out of your peripheral vision, you could make out Hyunjin coming back to the living room. His sketchbook was in one hand and a pencil and eraser were in another. This didn’t come as a surprise. He had said it himself that sketching was one of the best ways to let go of his stress. 

So the two of you sat for a while. You still soaking up your imaginary world and him drawing all over a blank white page. The only sounds filling the air were the occasional crinkling of paper as you turned the page and Hyunjin’s pencil scribbling up against paper. 

Without warning, paper tore. You glanced up to see Hyunjin ripping a sheet of paper out of his sketchbook. He balled it up between his hands and tossed it onto the floor. You opened your mouth to say something, but then closed it. Whatever was going on in his head, you didn’t want to make it worse. 

So you went back to your book until it happened again a few minutes later and again and again. By the fourth time, you closed your book and looked up at him. His teeth had sunken into the soft flesh of his bottom lip. His fingers turned white as he squeezed the ball of paper between his hands. 

“Are you okay?” You asked timidly. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

He tossed the ball of paper to the floor where it laid with the others. “I can’t get the drawing right. Besides that, I kept screwing up the choreography. I thought that maybe drawing would make me feel better, but it’s only making me feel worse.” 

“What are you trying to draw?” 

“You.”  

“Huh?” Soft pink blush rushed up to your cheeks. “Why me?” 

“Because I love you, but I can’t do you justice. You’re my muse, you’re my everything. I just can’t seem to capture your beauty properly. I can’t get the angles of your face right. I can’t get your nose right either. I want to draw you, but I can’t.” He let out a sigh and ran a hand through his long hair. 

You chuckled and slowly moved towards him on the other end of the couch. He raised an eyebrow as you gently took his hands in yours. You ran his hand across your jawline and he let out a small laugh. “What are you doing?” 

“Maybe if you can feel the shape of my jaw, maybe it’ll help.” You grabbed his pointer finger and ran it over the top of your nose. “Is it helping?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Well, don’t be shy. Go ahead and touch my face.” 

And so he did. The soft pads of his fingers gently made their way across every inch of your face. You closed your eyes and basked in his touch. He touched you with such delicacy, as if you were the most fragile person on earth. 

Nimble fingers ran over your jawline a few more times. Brushing up against your cheekbones. As if he was a sculpture sculpting your face, as lightly as he could, he pressed his thumbs against your eye sockets and trailed up to the corners of your eyes. Using two fingers on each hand, he traced your eyebrows. 

Since he was this close to your face, he could see how lovely your lashes were. He had studied your face hundreds of times when you were sleeping, but it had never been like this. He had never had the chance to touch you like this. 

It was so intimate and you were so vulnerable. You knew he could see every flaw you had when he was this close to you. Every pore, every scar, every curve, every slope, every single thing that made you, you. Your eyebrows that wildly grew out, the eyelashes that kept falling into your eyes, the peach fuzz. He could see everything and you hated it. 

And yet this was Hyunjin. He had told you over and over and over, he loved you and you were beautiful. You lapped up every little praise. Every murmur of approval sent butterflies to your stomach and caused your heart to beat faster. You loved him and he loved you. 

Without warning, a thumb ran over your lips. In shock, you opened your eyes to look at him. That’s all he needed, the warmth in your eyes. You didn’t have to say anything. He tilted his head and let his lips collide with yours. Fireworks popped and sizzled inside of you. Your cheeks flushed red and everything was on fire. 

He pulled away and let his forehead rest against yours. “Thank you, my muse.” 

You smiled and pulled your head away. Kissing the tip of his nose, you moved away from him. “Did it work? Are you going to try to draw me again?” 

“Of course. How could I not?” 

“Do you have time for a bowl of ice cream before you begin? I know how long your art takes and I think you should probably eat something before you get lost in it and lose track of time.” 

“I’d never turn down ice cream.” 

“Good because I have your favorite!” 

He watched as you turned and left the living room. Your book sat beside him on the couch. He leaned back with his sketchbook, pencil, and eraser on his lap. How lucky was he? Not everyone had the chance to find their very own muse. 

Read the next drabble: 🍯

[its-wabby-stuff]

By the Side of the Black Lake

I can’t remember how I found the lake, or when. But it was instantly mesmerizing.

The surface lay completely still, bordered by rocks on the east side and a glassy beach of soft sand on the west. There were no waves, no tide, I wasn’t even sure if it was water.

Just a black ink that spread out, shaped by the land, completely opaque. It didn’t feel natural, but it looked beautiful.

I could sit on the lake side for hours, just admiring it and it’s intensity. I wouldn’t dare to touch it. Things this peculiar in nature always came with some horrific price. A temperature hot enough to boil you alive, or completely melt the flesh off bones. (Like the sulphur springs in Yellowstone, except this didn’t smell of rotting eggs).

Things had been dropped into the lake before, but the surface was so dark, you would never be able to tell what happened to it. It would just disappear into the darkness. Things could float on the surface but the patterns never matched any typical current, it moved at its own leisure, as if the lake was playing with it. But just like everything else, it would eventually sink into the depths.

Sometimes things would wash up on shore, bones of birds and animals that had tried to swim. Unsettling to say the least.

Some believed the lake was cursed, but I was never one to believe in magic. Still, it was hard to shake that the lake felt- alive. It could feel happy and sad and angry, and the environment and the surface of the lake acted on these. Unpredictable as ever.

I was afraid. There were so many uncertainties visiting a lake like this. But it was practically impossible to ignore the strange comfort I got staring into the darkness, pondering its depths, and admiring its beauty.

Curiosity’s temptation always calls until it receives an answer.

I found myself visiting more and more frequently, and spending more and more time amongst the quiet solitude of the lake, although I never felt alone. It became a habit to visit the lake everyday. I’d bring a blanket and set up atop one of the rocks that presented the best view. I’d sketch, read, nap. I’d watch people come by with their own stories. They’d leave things for the lake. Throw things into the lake. Walk around the border. I’d hum and sing and whisper conversations to myself. It felt like someone was listening, and conversations with myself and some distant party became common.

I wanted to share ideas and stories and life, until speaking out loud became less to help myself understand and more for someone else to listen to.

I was always so careful to clean up after myself. Not leave anything behind. I didn’t want to upse- I didn’t want to lose something I might regret letting go of. But I guess I was distracted, lost in my head, and I forgot.

I only realized that I had when I went to visit the lake the next day. It was missing. I must’ve left it behind. I looked everywhere for it. Even places I had never actually visited by the lakeside. I searched and searched til the sun started to set.

I didn’t know what to do. Perhaps the lake had- no that’s impossible. The lake couldn’t have taken it. It’s up on the rocks. So someone else- but there was no one else around. I couldn’t have lost it.

Even if it didn’t have much monetary value, I had spent weeks by the lake side using it, and it didn’t feel right to not have it. I can’t believe I lost it, and I couldn’t help but cry at my own incompetence.

I hadn’t realized how close I’d gotten to the edge until it was too late, and one misstep caused me to fall into the lake. I only had a second to catch a breath before I was submerged into the darkness.

In moments that catch you off guard you find yourself doing things you never would’ve before. And I opened my eyes, not like it helped since I couldn’t see anything. I had no idea where I was and no sense of direction. The surface was missing, and panic began to settle deeper within me.

My mind began to focus on my breath, or the lack of breath. I hadn’t been ready to be submerged, and I could feel the choke hold my lungs had on me, begging me for more air. Air I couldn’t give it.

Was this it? Was this where I was to die. I suppose it could be worse. My flesh could be melting off my body, but the darkness was surprisingly tame. I wouldn’t say cold just as much as I wouldn’t say hot. It was- comforting. Like being held. And the darkness seemed to wrap itself around me. I couldn’t tell if it was trying to help, or trying to push me further down. But I was unwelcome either way.

I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold my breath, but maybe there was no point holding onto something I couldn’t control. Maybe I should just-

Two massive orange- um- eyes appeared before me. One with a slash straight through. I swam backward, startled. What was this thing? Some sort of lake creature? I wasn’t even aware anything lived inside. I thought- this must be what eats the creatures that get stuck.

They got closer, and I tried moving away, but I was stuck. I couldn’t move, and the tugging and flailing of my arms was only met with resistance. The glowing eyes circled me, settling behind me and than looked up. Up! That was the surface!

I swam up as fast as I could, following the refracting orange light all the way. My lungs longed for another breath. I could feel it leaping in anticipating until finally, I breached the surface and gasped for air in a fit of coughs. Quickly, I swam toward the beach, pulling myself completely out of the lake and a little extra for good measure.

It was dark now, the final glitter of the sun settling behind the mountain. All the beauty the lake offered by day as an oddity left when given the dark abyssal nature it had by night. It looked as if nothing was there. As of the universe itself ended in this very spot.

I pulled my knees up to my chest as I tried to get myself to move. A wave brushed itself on the sand, over and over until something was left on the beach.

That was mine. What I’d been searching for! I found it or- it was returned to me. I looked out over the lake again. Quiet and still as ever.

———————-

I don’t know how comfortable @somerandomdudelmao is with fanfiction of their own persona, but the very intriguing idea of a sentient, completely black lake divined me with inspiration and I had to write out an idea. I tried to keep it mysterious in nature because I have a lot of unknown variables. I also wanted people to put themselves in these shoes, so this isn’t about me per se. I wanted the lake to be as inspiring as it is mysterious, trying to embody a bit of Cass in it.

[slasherstories123]

You're "New Beginning" story that you made for me was so beautiful, that I cried. I was hoping maybe when you have the time, you could do a part two? Where the S/O and Vincent date a lot, and that she bought Vincent a new sketchbook and artist pencils.

Bo wanted her back, even though he said it's over, he got bored. Until he caught her actually dating Vincent after he climbed through the window with a small bouquet. The S/O refuses to go back to him of course, she loves Vincent now.

If you don't want to, you can just delete it and ignore it

New begging pt 2

Word count: 1.6k

Tagslist: @dootys @callmemeelah @fluffy-little-demon @mehidktbh @slash3rl0v3r @the-anxious-youth @beanbagbitch @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @mrs-heelshire @oneofvincentscandles @sleepypersonblog @alexxavicry @beel-mcburger @slasherscrybaby @sadskies @bunnysenpai31 @emychan @pink-apollo @misscaller06 @l0sercat @naxxsstuff @charliedawn

Ever since the break up with Bo, it tore you apart, but his twin was there to bring you back up, you didn’t want to be with Vincent just yet, and he respected that. Waiting for whenever you were ready, when you did, he was happy, Ecstatic. Honestly, he treated you better than Bo did, you two always spent time with each other in the basement where he worked, or crafted. Even teaching you a few drawing skills. Mainly, you’d watch him draw or paint, always putting his hair in a braid or ponytail so no art products would get in it. He was grateful for it, grateful to have you for himself. You were happier with Vincent. Compared to Bo, he’s sweet and gentle.

Since Lester came to town, you decided to get groceries and other items from stores, thanking Lester for taking you as you got back home. Waving at the truck pulling off. You put up all the food that belonged in the cabinets and fridge, leaving a certain bag out. Black hair tickled your neck as you put up cans of soup, giggling to yourself, knowing who it was. “Hello to you too Vince.” Turning around, you hugged your boyfriend. His arms wrapped around you, returning the hug, chin resting at the top of your head. “I got you something,” You pulled away to grab the bag, smiling at the small head tilt he gave you, taking it to see what you got. It was a large sketchbook and sketch pencils. You paid attention to his art supplies, seeing that most of his sketchbooks were filled and the pencils were low.

“I thought you could have a bigger sketchbook, plus it was on sale, made me think of you.”

The man smiled under the mask, gently tilting your head upwards so his masked lips could kiss your forehead, his way of saying thank you. You kissed his mask cheek. “You’re welcome, Vinny.” You took a good look at him, his back was still kinda hunched forward, indicating that he’s been sitting in a chair for hours. He looked sluggish. Tired even. “Is this your first time coming out of the basement since I left?” You cupped his masked face ever so gently. He shamefully nodded, hair tickling your nose, you rubbed it so you wouldn’t sneeze. “Vinny you gotta learn when to take breaks, your health matters.” His soft hands grabbed your wrists, thumbs rubbing against your veins. He understood.You hated it when he didn’t take breaks or would spend up to hours working on art or sculpting figures.

His forehead rested against yours, making you laugh. Looks like he really missed you today. Sounds of plastic filled both of your ears. Vincent turned around to see his twin brother at the door with a bouquet of flowers in his right hand, wearing the blue suit he’d always wear at the church. Tilting his head upwards to look at the two of you. He stood there silent. You had a feeling that you knew what he wanted to say. You whispered to Vincent, giving him the bag and telling him to go downstairs, you’ll meet him down there.

He looked at Bo and complied, nodding his head and leaving. Now that you two were alone, you leaned against the counter and crossed your arms. “Bo?” You spoke. The man took a few steps forward, handing the flowers out in your direction. “I…” He paused, you moved your hand in a way telling him to continue. “I want you back darling.” “I’m not your darling. Not anymore, you had your chance and you blew it. Badly.” He was taken back by the response.

“Come on Y/N don’t be like this…”He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. Okay?” It was rare for Bo to even apologize at all, so it caught you off guard, only a little. Shaking your head, you pushed the flowers to his chest. “I will accept your apology, but I’m not getting back with you, as you can see, I’m with Vincent, and am much happier with him. Like I said, you had your chance, plus, you were the one that broke up first, remember?”

He didn’t say anything, eyes filled with an emotion you couldn’t describe. Plus, he never acted like he wanted you back until now. It was like he didn’t care at first, but got bored. You weren’t gonna make that mistake. He might do the same things again, you weren’t going to fall for it.

“So, you can take those flowers, and give it to the next woman that comes to Ambrose, I’m sure she’ll love it like I would’ve done.” You gave him a smile, patting his shoulder, leaving the man alone in the kitchen to pounder in his thoughts. Ever since the breakup things have been weird, especially since you had to stay with Bo in order to play your role in getting the victims to trust you, but after a while everything was fine. You thought he was fine, going back to his old self since he didn’t have to worry about a partner, who knew he'd turn around and try and ask you back despite him breaking up first.

As you left the kitchen, you ran into Vincent, just by his body language, you could tell he was guilty. You sighed. “You heard everything, didn’t you?” He nodded slowly. You hugged him, feeling slight tension be released from your shoulders. “Just know that nothing is going on. I’ll always be with you.” His body slightly tensed up, but hugged you back, Glad that you chose to stay with him. “Now come on, I’d like to see more art you made since I was gone. After that, you’re taking a nap, it looks like you need one.” You could tell he was happy at the sentence, head slowly nodding. Plus, a nap sounds good. Holding your hand to guide you to the basement, where you could praise him for the beautiful art he’s made.

[f4ll-for-you]

Your library boyfriend Aemond moodboard has me dying for a snippet, a moment where you and him are trying to study, have been at it for hours, and you are frustrated, caught on something, and he suggests a way to help clear the mind and recalibrate....

@arcielee thank you for this request! I hope you like it, ilysm🫶

Library boyfriend Aemond headcanons!

• He insists on holding hands every time you walk into the library together, although everyone knows you’re his, he’s still protective af.

• Aemond loves to read, he’s always got his nose stuck in a philosophy or history book. You however, adore art and he loves watching you sketch while he writes essays. Always telling you how talented you are.

• He secretly loves it when you draw him, it makes him feel loved to see himself from your point of view. After his accident he saw himself as ugly and unlovable, but you make him see how beautiful he really is.

• Most of the time you spend your evenings in the university library, studying until everyone else has left.

• It’s moments like this that Aemonds gaze falls to the hem of your skirt, distracted by the way it rides up your thighs when you get comfortable in the old wooden chairs.

• He often places a gentle hand on your thigh, his thumb thoughtlessly rubbing over your soft skin, causing a wetness to grow between your legs.

• Aemond knew what he was doing, every time. He knew light touches set your body on fire, how you got even more turned on when it seemed like he was still reading, paying little attention to you or his actions.

• To counter his games, you’d let out a quiet moan, still keeping your eyes firmly on your current sketch.

• “Needy, love?” He would always ask. Tempting you to beg for him. One thing about Aemond is that he loved control, to know you desired him.

• Aemond could never keep himself controlled for long, checking his surroundings before moving his hand into your panties, feeling your wetness where you needed him most.

• “I guess that’s my answer” he’d continue, dominant as ever. “Why don’t you come sit here” he’d motion to his lap, adoring the sight of you on top of him as he held your thighs.

• It didn’t take long for you to end up bouncing up and down on his cock, a moaning mess as he continued to tease you. His dirty words reminding you how well you were doing, how much he loved your perfect pussy as he groaned into your shoulder, a sign he’d become close to his own high.

• When he threw his head back, his neat man bun long gone, you knew he was close as you rolled your hips into him, wanting his seed to fill you entirely.

• Never one to be selfish, Aemond would bring a hand between your legs, rubbing circles on your pearl so you would come undone together. The peak of intimacy for him.

• You thanked the gods every time that the library was soundproof, covering your moans and screams as you came, panting heavily.

• “My perfect angel” he’d always say, tucking the loose strands of hair behind your ear as you slumped on his lap, he relished the feeling of still being deep inside you.

[smileysuh]

trust me

🌙 staring. Seungcheol x afab!Reader

🔮 synopsis. in preparation for your wedding to the love of your life, whom you met teaching abroad, you’re studying Korean, and your fiancé is doing everything in his power to help you learn 

cw/ tw. dubious study techniques, oral (f receiving), praise, fingering, protected sex, grinding, etc…

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.3k

🍭 aus. teacher au, foreigner!reader, established relationship, fiance!Cheol 

☀️ mlist + an. *me looking at Cheol*: I just think he's neat

“You’re still studying?” his voice is soft, as are the hands that smooth across your shoulders, fingers working into your tired muscles.

With a groan, you loll your head back, looking up at your fiancé, who is standing over your seated form. “I really want to make a good impression on your family-”

“My parents love you already,” Seungcheol says, pressing a kiss to your forehead before his eyes find your Korean Language Learning Work Book again, “even if you are a foreigner who has trouble conversing with them as well as you’d like to.” 

“Still,” you insist, picking up your pencil again, “your extended family is invited to the wedding too, so I want to make effort for that-”

“You always put in so much effort,” your fiancé sighs, leaning over your chair so he can wrap his arms around your shoulders, lips finding your cheek. “But I can tell I won’t be able to convince you to stop studying tonight.”

“Nuh uh,” you confirm, eyes already scanning over the words written in Hangul that you’ve been tracing. “I’m in the zone.”

Your boyfriend chuckles, breath tickling your neck before he lets out another deep sigh, “well… would you like some help?”

You laugh at the notion, but your laugh turns into something like a moan when Seungcheol’s warm hands shift over your shoulders again, magic fingers massaging out the tightness in your neck from sitting in one position for so long- “Real help this time?”

Despite having met your fiancé while spending a year teaching abroad, you’ve never actually seen any of Seungcheol’s teacher tactics in practice- instead, he usually takes a more… dubious approach to helping you study Korean… an approach that you know he didn’t learn during his years studying motivation tactics for children. 

“I always give you real help,” your boyfriend says, smiling against your neck before pressing his lips to your fluttering pulse point- 

“You always distract me,” you retort, shifting your head to the side to give the man at your throat more room to speckle your skin in soft little kisses- 

“I promise to keep you on track today, how about that?”

You’re suspicious of his ability to follow through- but at the same time, his hands feel so good on your body, and you can’t imagine him leaving you alone again- 

Your eyes shift to the clock on the corner of your desk and you groan, have you really been studying for three hours already? 

“Fine, you can help me study a little while longer,” you acquiesce, tugging your work book closer to your body so your boyfriend can see it easier.

“How about you start by reading these sentences you’ve written out loud for me?”

“Out loud?” your body tenses-

“Yeah,” your fiancé chuckles against your throat, and then his fingers are curling around your neck, squeezing gently while his lips tease your ear. “What’s the point of writing all these sentences down if you can’t read them?”

You swallow thickly, enjoying the feeling of him; “I-”

“Come on, Jagiya,” he says, the Korean term of endearment rolling off his tongue like second nature, “you can sound them out.”

You lift your hand to the top corner of the page, carefully utilizing your memory of the Korean alphabet as you sketch 자기야 onto the paper.

“Hey,” your fiancé releases his light grip on your neck to pull your textbook even closer, “that’s really good-”

“You think so?” your chest swells with pride-

No matter what techniques Seungcheol uses to ‘assist’ you in your studies, whether that be burying his face between your thighs to tongue at you in Hangul, or finger fucking you as a reward for having a simple five minute conversation with him entirely in Korean, one thing you can count on from your fiancé, is words of praise.

He knows, better than anyone, how much one nice comment can help you in gaining the confidence to succeed… or does he mean suck seed? 

Regardless- Seungcheol’s not the type to be a put down, instead, he lifts you up, and that’s one of the reasons you’d fallen so desperately in love with him-

It had never been your plan, in your year teaching abroad, to find someone like Seungcheol. The thought of finding your soulmate in another country had never really crossed your mind- but then, there he was… and now here you are, working harder than ever to learn the language spoken by his family, the family that’s welcomed you in as one of their own in the ten month period you’ve been dating Cheol. 

“Trust me,” Seungcheol says, “I know it feels daunting because you’re working on learning the writing portion- but you’ve been speaking at an okay level for a few months now- stop confusing yourself, you’ve got this.” 

Your fiancé pulls away from his position behind you, and you turn to protest his leaving- only for Seungcheol to grab hold of your chair and pull you out from under the desk you’d been sitting at. 

“Here,” he says, sinking to his knees in front of you, fingers hooking in your sleeping shorts, “all you have to do is read the sentences you’ve written, and I’ll follow along.”

“You’ll follow along-” you repeat with a laugh, but you lift your hips anyways, allowing your boyfriend to strip you bare from the waist down before dragging your wheelie chair closer. 

Seungcheol grins at you, large hands pushing your thighs open and pulling you to the edge of your seat so he can access you, his breath fanning across your pussy deliciously-

You watch the way your fiancé licks his lips, anticipating the moment he dives into you- but then he stops, gaze flickering up to your own, “Are you gonna start reading, or..?” 

With a sigh, you pick up your textbook- and Seungcheol drags you closer to his mouth, spreading you out even more-

You realize, as you look at the first sentence, that it’s actually an easy one, and you begin sounding it out-

Your fiancé’s tongue presses flat to your core, licking a stripe up to your clit that has your legs quivering at the stimulation- and then, he begins to flick at your sensitive bud, moving erratically- following along with the words you’d just said-

A guy had shown you what the A,B,C’s felt like against your pussy in second year university- but Seungcheol’s Hangul clit teasing is a whole other level of pleasure- 

“Keep reading,” the man between your legs reminds you, pressing an open mouthed kiss to your inner thigh, “when you stop, I stop.”

Not the ‘when you stop, I stop’ study tactic- 

You hate this game.

“And actually,” your fiancé looks up at you, “read the sentence, and then translate it to english- we have to make sure you know what you’re saying.”

“These sentences are basic though- as you said earlier, I’m having trouble with the writing portion right now-”

“Just try it,” Seungcheol whispers, pressing a kiss to your clit that has you folding immediately.

Your repeat sentence one, with more confidence this time, and then you begin to translate it over: “Hello-”

A tongue pokes into your heat, lapping at your walls while Seungcheol pushes his head deeper into your core, his hands grabbing at your hips-

“Cheol-”

One little nip at your clit reminds you to read, and you’re quick to clear your throat, threading your fingers through your fiancé’s hair while you read the first sentence in it’s entirety again - pleased by the way the man between your legs pays attention to your clit while you speak in Korean, only to switch to practically tongue fucking you when you shift to English. 

Sentence two is equal parts easy and difficult.

It’s easy because the phrase is one you’d repeated a lot in your initial months in Seoul, and it’s difficult, because your loving boyfriend knows how to make you cum like second nature, and when you get to the English and he pushes his tongue back into you, your moans make speaking coherently nearly impossible-

“One more,” Seungcheol tells you. “One more sentence then you can cum.”

He’s going easy on you tonight- and you love him even more for it, skin tingling with heat that goes straight to your core-

The third phrase you’ve been writing is something as mundane as an english equivalent to goodbye-

As the word slips from your lips, and your fiancé presses his nose into your clit, tongue pressing into your wet heat- you explode, legs threatening to close around Seungcheol’s head.

You toss the book onto the desk in favour of grabbing at your boyfriend’s dark hair, getting an anchor on the man who continues to ravage your pussy with his tongue, letting out his own groans of pleasure to match the whines and whimpers escaping your lips.

Your hips push up, and your thigh finds hold on Cheol’s shoulder, allowing you to grind yourself against his face ever so slightly-

The motion sends your pussy loving boyfriend into a frenzy, and he pulls away from you with a growl, lifting you out of your chair in favour of throwing you onto the bed a few feet away. 

“You studied so hard-” he tells you, tearing off his shirt and then his sweatpants, “you deserve a reward-”

“S.coups-” you laugh, the old nickname your colleagues had had for him slipping out of you in the moment of fondness.

“That’s fiancé to you,” he scolds, pretending to be serious for a moment before breaking. “Take your shirt off- and seriously, you studied a lot already,” Seungcheol tells you as he grabs a condom from the nightstand, rolling it onto his girthy length-

“You told me you would help me study though,” you pout, opening your arms for the man who so eagerly flattens himself over your body, lips finding your neck while his fingers dip into your pussy-

“Trust me,” he says, breathing heavily against your throat while he begins pumping his digits out of your core, opening you up, “I did everything in my power-”

You laugh, pushing at the broad shoulders of a man who’s gotten deliciously beefy in the past months- 

“I did,” he insists, biting at your earlobe and removing his fingers from your heat. “I let you study for three hours tonight- do you know how much I missed you while watching movies?”

“You missed me?” you smile, tugging at his hair gently, which finally pulls the man away from your neck. 

“Of course,” he laughs, rubbing his cock against your entrance. “I always miss you when I’m not with you.”

“Always?”

Your fiancé presses a kiss to your lips while he pushes into you, “Always.” 

Kissing Seungcheol is wonderful, even when he’s not burying his cock in your core, so in moments like this, it’s pure bliss. 

Your arms are around his neck while he finds a steady pace, and one of your fiancé’s hands is snaking up from your hip, his thumb brushing under your breast-

Breaking the kiss allows for Seungcheol to move his lips down- and you arch your back, helping the hand that cups at your boob, pushing it up for the mouth that comes to worship your pebbled nipple-

“Aish,” he groans, letting go of your breast so he can kiss you again, his thrusts have a newfound vigour- “I love you so much.”

You let out a whimper, “I love you too-”

Seungcheol captures your left hand, pinning it to the bed next to you. He toys with the pretty metal that enwraps your ring finger, the band he’d placed there two months ago when you’d said yes to his proposal and become the happiest couple in the world.

“You feel so good,” he tells you, and it’s enough to have you nearly cumming on the spot, your legs tightening around his hips- your fiancé chuckles at the way you’re  fluttering around him- “You must have missed me too,” he concludes, eating up your noises of pleasure. “Rub yourself for me? If you cum- fuck, you’ll make me cum too-”

He never has to ask twice, and you’re pressing your fingers to your clit a moment later, drawing little circles that have you moaning out-

“Cheol-”

His hips spasm at the sound of his name, and he lets out a deep groan that drags you over the edge with him, core clamping onto his length as his thrusts begin to falter in pace-

Warmth thrums through your body, and you pull your hand away from your clit, moving it to cup the back of Seungcheol’s neck, forcing his lips back onto your own.

Moans are muffled in kisses, and you make pleasured sounds in unison with each final thrust until your fiancé is stilling on top of you.

He takes a deep breath, fixing the ring on your finger before releasing your hand. Then, he cages you in with his arms on either side of you, eyes exuding warmth and love as he smiles, pressing a kiss to your nose before saying, “Hi,” in Korean, as softly as ever-

You repeat the word back to him, and the sound of it on your lips has Seungcheol’s grin widening. 

“You sound so cute when you speak Korean,” he tells you, pressing more soft kisses across your face.

“Really?”

He moves his lips to your neck, nuzzling there before nodding. “I promise I’ll help you study tomorrow,” he tells you. “But trust me,” your fiancé lets out a deep, contented sigh, “my family is going to love you, no matter what.”

✘ thanks for reading! ✘ if you enjoyed my work,  please consider sending me a tip here or here :) ✘ m.list

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[eijirousbestie]

YOUR ART MAJOR STORY WAS FIRE!! IM AN ART MAJOR AND WE HAD TO DO DETAILED PORTRAITS THIS MORNING AS AN ACTIVITY OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS AND ALL I COULD THINK ABOUT WAS YOUR STORY 😭😭😭😭 anyway i had the vision of Y/N doing a portrait of bakugou for her class ❤️❤️❤️❤️

AHH THANK YOU SM hearing someone thought abt my story in their day to day life is actually insane so thank you for reading!! Love to see a fellow art major around here🤝🏽I hope this story is to your liking i tried my best😭<33

“Can I draw you?”

this is kinda long (I got too into it lol)

pulling at the heartstrings a bit here

he’s a willing participant???

unorganized dishes

golden hour

* * *

Being an art student had its perks. For one thing you didn’t have “real” homework like other classes and you could spend majority of your time creating something new. In other cases, being an art student was dreadful, and today proved that to be true.

Walking into class and setting your bag down, you sit at your easel and scroll on your phone as your professor waits for other students to trickle in before he takes attendance. The sound of a chair scooting can be heard as your professor makes his presence known and calls role. He finishes and places his clipboard down, clapping his hands together with enthusiasm.

“Good morning guys! First things first, I just wanted to say you all did a great job at critique this past Tuesday. I was very impressed with the outcome of all your pieces. Now for those of you who have checked the class schedule, you’ll know we have our Portrait 1 assignment due at the end of next week. I’ll give further instructions and we’ll go ahead and get started on those today.” He grabs a stack of papers, assuming to be said detailed instructions for your next assignment. As soon as he hands you a copy, you skim through the premise of what you’re going to be doing.

Portrait 1 Assignment

1. Pick a subject you will be referencing to for your portrait. (No you cannot use a reference online. It has to be someone you can poke).

2. Arrange a time outside of class to meet with your subject to begin your sketch.

3. Pick a feature of your subject to enhance in your final drawing. You can add color, darken line weight or distort the feature you chose, but the rest of the portrait should be in the style of a sketch.

This drawing should be done on an 18x24 sheet of paper from your sketchbook and no smaller.

You internally cringe at the thought of having to snatch someone from campus to sit with you for hours just so you can draw them. You instantly begin to think of people you know who you can draw. You take your phone out and begin typing up a message to a friend of yours, asking when they’re free. Much to your dismay, they inform you that they have work directly after class all this week and won’t be able to help. You understand, but now you’ve got yourself stuck and you absolutely refuse to ask a stranger. For the remainder of the period, all you can do is mindlessly write a list of names and the pros and cons of their potential availability.

* * *

Sitting in the living room after getting back to the dorms, you rest after having no success trying to recruit anyone to be your reference. The dorms are practically empty as everyone is out doing something. Working, training, shopping. Everything you don’t do. Essentially losing hope for the day, you resort to lounging on the couch. Cozy pajamas nearly lulling you to sleep. However before you can slip into the best nap of your life, clanging from the kitchen startles you awake. Whispered curses soon follow, ultimately giving away who caused the noise. Getting up from your oh so comfy spot, you make your way to the kitchen to investigate. Peeking a head in the doorway, you see a rather frazzled Bakugou picking up pots and pans that had fallen to the floor.

Looking at his bent form, you speak up. “You aight?” He picks up the last pot and places it on the counter before responding, fully facing you.

“I’m good. My bad if I woke you.” You give a shrug and lean your hip on the doorframe, arms crossed over your chest.

“Nah you’re fine. Wasn’t fully knocked out anyway. What were you doing in here?”

“Reorganizing. For whatever reason, idiots around here can’t understand that stacking dishes causes shit to fall. Just proved my point too.” His eyes fall on the various pans on the counter he was in the process of arranging. You give a chuckle and move to help put them away.

“Say it louder for the people in the back.”

“Yeah well apparently they ‘don’t respond well to yelling.’ Whatever the fuck that means.” He nags as you both place each dish in their respective places.

“Gotta give em a glare or side eye to get the message across,” you joke.

“Shit only goes so far. But if looks could kill everybody here would be on their deathbed.”

“Jesus man, gruesome much?” You let out a heartier chuckle, actually entertained by his empty threats.

“S’called being self-aware.” He leans against the now empty counter and folds his arms across his chest. A silly thought crosses your mind. A glimpse of hope even. You decide to pursue it.

“Speaking of looks,” you start off tentatively, “I could really use yours if you’ll let me.”

He gives you a half-curious look, left eyebrow slightly raised as he side eyes you. “The hell’s that mean?”

You’re not sure whether it’s the desperation talking or the fact that you’re half asleep, but you immediately hit him with your dilemma.

“Well… can I draw you?” It seems like minutes that go by before he responds with a sharp click of his tongue.

“Lay off the drugs huh? Shit’s got you talkin outta your ass.”

“Bakugou please! I need a reference for an assignment and I’d really appreciate if you’d let me draw you. It won’t take long I swear I’m fast!” Your hands are clasped together as you ask for his cooperation.

“The hell’d you wanna draw me for? Plenty other people you could ask.”

You don’t have it in your heart to mention nobody else was available to help you. It’d be like blatantly telling him he was the last option and you don’t want to potentially upset him by saying that. It’s not necessarily true either, you just didn’t think he would be up for it in the first place so you didn’t want to bother him. He was your saving grace really, never the last option.

“Well you’ve got great eyes. And perfect eyebrows too. So it’s kinda hard not to want to draw you. But seriously, if you’ll let me, I’ll do my very best to capture the best parts of you. Please?” If you hadn’t known any better, you could’ve sworn you saw his hands clutch the counter in a death grip. He’s quiet for a moment. Two moments. Then he shakes his head in disbelief and his eyes sweep to look at anything else but you.

“Fine. Just don’t make me look like shit got me?” A light look of embarrassment covers his face. It’s endearing.

“I promise.” You smile a wide grin, relief relaxing your shoulders. “You mind if we get started tonight? I’m kinda behind as it is.”

He gives a nod and a hum in response. You tell him to stay put as you grab your sketchbook. He takes a seat on the couch and watches the slow sunset. It’s golden hour and the living room is filled with warm oranges and yellows as the sun is close to calling it a day. You come back, supplies in hand and before you can put your things down, you catch Bakugou as he gazes out of the window, the setting sun casting onto his face. With his hand propped under his chin, he looks ethereal. His red eyes now a vermilion as the rays reflect on them. It highlights his jawline, casting shadows that make the edges prominent. His hair aglow in the light, tufts of blonde now appearing marigold. You don’t realize how silly you must look staring at him until his eyes flicker to your frozen form. His gravelly voice pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Got your stuff?” He doesn’t move from his spot as he asks. You gather your bearings and nod.

“Yeah uh I got everything I need. We can start now if you’re ready?” You walk over to the couch where he sits, setting up your easel right in front of him.

“Mmh go ahead. Is there a certain way you wanna do this or?”

“No no what you’re doing now is fine. It’s actually better if you’re comfortable. We might be here a while, but let me know when you need a break.” He gives a nod of approval and you’re off, hands sketching and eyes darting back and forth between easel and subject. Soft scratching noises from graphite on paper filled the silence. By this point you were detailing the features of his hand holding up his face. Neat nail beds and cleanly trimmed. Bruised and scarred knuckles from countless hours of training. A strong neck that connected to an even stronger jaw, probably chiseled by the gods themselves.

You’d be lying to yourself if you thought drawing him would be a chore. It was actually enjoyable. There was no need for trivial conversation. Just you sitting there, drawing him as he let you. Him trusting you to capture his very being with only a pencil. It was a beautiful experience and you couldn’t be more grateful that you both were a part of it.