#i get why youre asking i understand what youre getting at but do you really need to ask how i felt getting screamed at by my dad in public

[enwoso]

I loved grumpy! If your taking requests, could you write something for lotte wubben moy with a child!reader? Thank you!

🫶🏼💐

TINY TEACHER — lotte wubben-moy

*any dutch had been translated using google so if it’s wrong i apologise🩷*

navigation

holding your sisters hand as you rushed to get out of the rain into the warmth of the training ground, as you and lotte walked through the door way.

walking into the room where most of the girls were sat eating breakfast, "do you want anything?" lotte turned to ask you but before she even got a chance to ask you, you were rushing over to were viv was sitting with beth and steph.

"viv!" you cheered as she finished her sip of her drink placing it down as you climbed up on the spare chair to sit next to her.

"hi kleintje" viv smiled as you waved at the other two before turning back to viv, "i not little!" you huffed a frown appearing on you face.

"look i this big!" you said using your hands to show how tall you were as viv laughed at you. "waar is je zus?" viv asked changing the topic as you looked around to see where lotte actually was.

finding your sister at the breakfast counter talking to alessia and teyah. "lottie over there!" you pointed as viv looked where you were pointing and nodded. the two of you turning around to face beth and steph to find them both looking at you, with their mouths wide open.

"why they look like that?" you asked thinking you were whispering and only the dutch could hear you both both beth and steph could as you poked viv on the shoulder to get her attention, the dutch shrugging.

"she understands dutch?" beth blurted out looking at her girlfriend as viv hummed, nodding her head with a smile.

"yes! lottie teach me" you say proudly and just as you said that, lotte came over with two bowls in her hand. handing one full of fruit to you and the other with granola in for herself.

"taught you what?" lotte asked as she pulled a chair from an empty table sitting inbetween you and steph. looking between you and viv and beth and steph to try and work out why two of teammates looked like they had just seen a ghost.

"dutch!" you beamed as lotte hummed, pulling her chair in closer to the table. “oh yeah, i taught you the basics but viv and vic have been teaching you proper dutch” lotte explained as the two nodded along.

“vic learned me a song actually!” you smiled, popping another bit of fruit into your mouth. munching along as lotte asked which one.

“um, the wheels on the bus one” you paused for a minute thinking what it was. “can you sing it?” steph asked as you nodded, sitting for a second with your chin propped up on your hands.

“de wielen van de bus gaan rond en rond” you started, looking towards lotte and viv to see if what you were saying was right, both of them nodding and urging you to carry on. “rond en rond, door de hele stad” you finished singing as both beth and steph begin to clap making your little cheeks go all red.

“that was amazing y/n!” steph applauded, as beth sat nodding in agreement in shock that you were able to do that all at the ripe age of five.

“your sister is a little genius, how can her little brain carry all that information!” beth looked towards lotte who shrugged not really knowing how your brain took in all the information.

as if she tried to get you to do actual school work like writing your name or reading it was a whole battle. you usually thinking of every single excuse under the sun not to do it or you would just mess on and be silly and not do it properly l.

“no idea, she likes doing it so she’ll listen” lotte said, as she looked back to you who was munching happily on the fruit not really listening to the conversation the grown ups were having.

“y/n, you should teach beth cause she’s trying to learn but she says i’m not a good teacher!” viv teases as she nudges you gaining your attention back to the conversation as you hear beth gasps at the dutches comment.

“no your just a bad teacher! you just get frustrated when i get one tiny thing wrong!” beth defends herself as steph starts to laugh at the brits sudden reaction.

“yes! me teach you!” you beam getting out of your seat to go and be next to beth as the rest of the girls were all starting to get up to go out onto the field.

waiting for beth to get up from her seat, you watch as she grabs her boots from under her seat before grabbing your hand as you follow, lotte and vic out of the canteen and start the walk to the pitches.

“come on then tiny teacher, teach me some dutch!” beth smiles as she swings your hands back and forth her other hand occupied with her boots as you looked up at her with an excited smile.

“we start easy, mijn naam beth!” you say as beth nods trying to repeat it like you had and after a few attempts getting it right. “yes like that!” you clap your hands together in excitement as beth smiles back at you. holding her hand up for you to high five.

“now this one, ik speel voetbal” you say slowly as beth nods repeating what you said but not correctly as you shake your head, repeating it again.

after a few more attempts beth was still saying it wrong but was adamant she was saying it right. “that’s what i said!” beth argued as you frowned shaking your head, “no you didn’t!” you raised your voice, stamping your tiny foot a little, hoping to get your point across.

the sudden change in tone of voice making viv and vic turn around, the team knew that you had been teaching beth on the walk down to the pitches.

“hey, why the angry tone klein” viv asked crouching down to your height beth stopping next to vic her arms crossed over her chest in annoyance.

“bethy doing it wrong!”

“i’m not!”

viv gave beth a look as the blonde mumbled a sorry, huffing as viv picked you up. lotte coming back to where you were to see what was wrong, vic assuring her it was nothing.

“beth geen erg goede luisteraar!” you grumbled, making the three laugh as they understood exactly what you said. beth being the only one who didn’t know what had been said only understanding her name. suddenly asking what it was you had said that was so funny.

“i want to know what’s so funny, tell me!”

translations:

geen erg goede luisteraar — ‘not a very good listener’

klein — ‘tiny’

ik speel voetbal — ‘i play football’

mijn naam beth — ‘my name beth’

waar is je zus — ‘where is your sister’

kleintje — ‘little one’

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Fifteen Minutes

Din Djarin x Cam Girl Reader AU

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Being a cam girl isn't as exciting as people think it is, that is until a mystery of a deep voiced man asks you what makes a woman feel good. Warnings: Smut, mutual masturbation, voyeurism, sex work, Din reveals his face, silver dildo, Din's a virgin, premature ejaculation. Banner has nothing to do with appearance of reader, reader has no physical descriptors besides being AFAB. Words: 4,360 Author Note: Happy May the 4th, tell me why I spent all tonight writing this?

Masterlist

— —

THEWAY would like to chat. Accept?

$150 for fifteen minutes of staring at someone’s dick, of course you’re going to take it. Usually these calls consist of you rubbing your body and complimenting men you’d never even speak to while you try to recall if you remembered to order caesar dressing with your dinner. You look around your room, you have nothing else to do, your delivery won’t be here for another twenty minutes… you hit accept. 

“Hi babe, how are you tonight?” You smile into the camera, the smile your customers love, sultry bedroom eyes and a small grin. 

“…Good,” he breathes out.

Oh, his voice. You only see a black shirt… nothing else, but that voice is enough for you. 

“Tell me, have you done this before?”

“…No. My first time.”

“Alright, so you have fifteen minutes with me, once the timer is up we’re done and I disconnect. You’re allowed to touch yourself and I will watch you, I will do what you tell me to do within my own comfort, if I choose to end the call because I don’t feel right, then you will be billed the whole amount. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” 

“Okay, great. Just so I know what you want before we start what are you interested in tonight?”  

“I’d like to watch you and learn.”

“Learn?”

“Yes, learn, I-I,” he sighs, “I’ve never been with anybody before.”

“Oh.” With that voice? You don’t know what he looks like, but his voice has already turned you on so much you can’t imagine somebody who sounds like that is a virgin. You turn the volume all the way up. “So, you want me to show you what girls like?”

“What a girl like you likes, yes.”

“I can do that for you. I’m going to start the timer now.” 

You know this feeling, the click of the mouse on the green BEGIN button, the lean back to get your body in the whole frame, the spreading of your legs to show your viewer what they really want to see. 

“What do you want me to show baby?” You ask as you run your hand along your neck and down to your breasts.

“Show me what you like when someone has you.”

How are you so turned on by his voice? The way it flows through your speakers, the deep baritone of his serious voice, it does something to you… and it’s just a voice.

“I like when a guy plays with my nipples,” your hands cup your breasts, pulling and massaging them into peaks. “I like when they lick them,” you dribble spit down to your chest, swiping your fingers through it and spreading it across your chest. 

His long exhale massages your body through those damn tinny speakers. Usually by now your  screen is full of your client’s dick, you’ve become very good at staring at the camera, ignoring the tugging and actions on the screen in your peripheral vision. This time, that voice makes you wish you could see him. 

“I like when they drag their hands all over my body,” your hand travels down your stomach to your thighs and back up. 

“I like when they tell me they want to touch my body. Do you want to touch my body?”

“Y-yes.”

“What do you want to touch?”

“E-everywhere, you look like you’re so soft. I want to touch your legs, they look so smooth.”

“I’d like that,” you smile at the camera, “do you want me to touch my pussy for you?” 

“Uh huh.” 

You lay back, spreading your legs wide, dipping your hand down to pet yourself. You’re not surprised to find that you’re already wet, the mysterious man’s deep voice mixed with the desolate black screen and the sight of his black shirt moving as he breathes is enough for you.

You wonder how old he is, what he looks like, why he chose your room, why he’s obviously not touching himself. He’s a mystery you want to figure out. You welcome the luxury of not having to pretend you like what you see. You like knowing that this total stranger is sitting in a dark room only focusing on you.

You rub a finger against your clit, your hips rising at the feel of the pressure against your sensitive nub.

“I like when they can feel how wet they make me.” You glue your eyes to the camera letting out a moan while your finger teases your clit. “I like when they dip a finger in my cunt and bring my juices up to my clit. Feels really good as they rub me with my wet.”

Your finger dips down to your entrance, sliding it into yourself. “Ohh baby, I am so wet for you,” you moan as you begin to fuck yourself. 

Your other hand begins its descent down your body until it reaches your pussy. It works over your clit as you fuck yourself slowly, your cunt already clenching around your singular finger. 

You’re so turned on right now, the excitement of this black screen, the knowledge that he picked your picture and trusts you to show him what makes you feel good. 

“You’re pretty quiet over there, you good?”

“Y-yes. I like watching you.”

“Why’d you choose me?” you slip another finger in with a moan. “Couldn’t you just have watched a video?”

“I wanted to see it for real. Is it for real?”

“With you, yes.”

You don’t know what it is about his voice. Why are you getting off on the mystery? 

“Are you touching yourself?” You never have to, nor want to, ask, but you want to know this time. 

“No,” he sighs, “I want to focus, I don’t want any distractions.”

“Okay, that’s okay baby,” you give him an understanding smile as you begin canting your hips up to pump yourself harder. 

Five minute warning. The red box pops up on the screen. You’re too focused on your bliss to close the warning. You’re always so good at turning off the video vixen and going right into businesswoman mode but tonight, you just want to make this stranger feel satisfied. 

“I really like it when my pussy is stuffed with a cock, I love feeling the stretch and I love when my hole is stuffed so full.”

You hear his deep groan. You can’t hide the smile on your face.

“Ohhh, you liked that didn’t you? How would you take me if you were here with me? Let me know baby, tell me.”

“I-I’d want to fuck you as I looked in your eyes, you have beautiful eyes and lips, I want to kiss you while I fuck you.”

“Oh,” a chill blooms through your body at how gentle his words are. Most men are crass and too forthcoming with their fantasies, never soft, most of their answers just turn into white noise. His answer is going to stay with you. “I like when a guy wants me to cum all over their cock, I love the feeling of my cunt pumping around a hard cock as I orgasm. I’m close, do you want me to cum for you?”

“Please, yes.”

His voice, you can’t stress this enough, his voice is so fucking hot. Your body begins to feel feverish as the loud squelch of your fingers working your cunt faster and harder gets louder. You hardly ever cum during these sessions, especially when you use just your hands, needless to say, you’re really good at pretending. 

You love your job, you really do, it allows so much freedom and pays well, but some nights are so monotonous and boring. Tonight seemed like one of those nights, until you accepted this call. Tonight you’re going to cum.

Your orgasm hits you hard, back arching, limbs tightening, eyes fluttering as a rush of slick soaks your fingers. You pant for air as you come down, slipping your fingers out and resting a hand on your chest. 

The countdown begins in the corner of your screen 60, 59, 58…

“Time’s about up,” you whisper as you sit up, “I hope I helped you.”

“Y-you did. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” you smile. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t.” 

He disconnects.

Your account shows $250 extra. He’s an excellent tipper and you actually came for him. You really love your job tonight. 

——

THEWAY would like to chat. Accept?

The way, the way, the way. You’ve thought about him for the past week, wondering if he joined any other room, if he chose someone else over you. All you know about him is he owns a black shirt and has never been with anybody… and yet you’ve thought about him every single day since. Have you crossed his mind? You sure hope so because he picked you again tonight. Your heart beats faster as you try to hide the smile when you hit the accept button. 

“Hi again,” you grin. 

This time there’s a light on behind him, you can just make out broadness of his shoulders, really fucking broad, he’s in a black shirt again, but thanks to the light you can see he has golden skin.

“Hi, it’s nice to see you.”

Goodness you’re so thankful for that light, you can see the way his chest moves as he talks. There’s tiny peek of his toned neck at the top of the screen, you pray he dips lower exposing his face. His voice is just how you remembered it, low and bassy, you’re already getting wet at the anticipation of hearing more.

“I can see a little more of you now,” you wink, “I like it.”

“Heh,” he chuckles, the first time you’ve heard him laugh. His hand comes into frame, scratching at his chest. It’s beautiful and large, his fingers are thick, you wonder what they’d feel like against your skin.

“I have to give you the same spiel even though you’re a repeat. Once again, you have fifteen minutes with me once it’s up, I disconnect. Please feel free to touch yourself for me and I’ll do what you want as long as I am okay with it. I’ll hang up if I don’t feel comfortable. Do you understand?”

“I do.”

“Wonderful. Are you going to touch yourself for me tonight?”

“Uh, n-no, not yet.”

“That’s okay, I’m happy to do the work for you. You want me to use my hands, or do you want me to use a toy?”

“Do you have anything shaped like a-a—uh, a—“

“A dick?”

“Yeah.”

“I do. You want to watch me fuck myself with a cock?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll grab my favorite one just for you.”

You roll over and pick up your “briefcase” of sex toys, grabbing your favorite, the silver toned dildo. It’s thick, it vibrates, and it fits your cunt just right. 

“Is this what you want to watch me fuck myself with?”

“Ye—“ he clears his throat. “God, yes.”

You giggle. “Okay, I’m starting the timer now.” 

You tap the button. Fifteen minutes of him.  

“What do you want from me baby? You want to see how this cock looks in my mouth?”

“Yes” he strangles out.

“You want me to pretend it’s your cock?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“L-lick it.”

You smile, leaning closer to the camera as you bring the dildo up to your lips, sticking your tongue out and swirling it around the tip, your eyes focused on the screen, not the camera… the screen. You want another glimpse of his skin. 

“Mm, wish I could taste you. You think you’re leaking for me right now baby?”

You lick a line down to the base and back up. 

“I bet you’re so warm and soft there,” you whisper against the tip before opening your mouth and sucking it. You hollow your cheeks as you take the dildo in deeper, eyes widening and tearing as it hits the back of your throat. 

“Fuuuuck,” he leans back farther in his chair his chin comes into sight, well trimmed facial hair, strong chin, you know he has to be beautiful. 

You can’t stop looking at him, you don’t even know his name, where he lives, what he does, why in the hell he’s still a virgin. 

Drool escapes your lips as fuck your mouth moaning around the silver latex. 

Most of the time this job isn’t the greatest, you usually find yourself going through the motions, moving on to the next client, the next responsibility. Sure, sometimes you really connect with a watcher, sometimes you look forward to the name appearing knowing you’ll actually really enjoy the session, but most of the time, you deal and move on. It’s business. Sure as hell beats sitting in a cubicle. With this stranger, this puzzle you’re slowly figuring out? You love your job. 

“Want to see my pussy take this cock now baby?”

“Please.”

You nod, leaning back and spreading your legs open. 

“Do you feel safe telling me your name? I want to say your name as I get fucked by your cock.” 

“Ye—fuck yes. It’s Din.”

“Diiiiiiin,” you moan, as you begin to pump the silver cock in and out of you. It moves smoothly, you’re soaking wet for him, only due to his voice and whatever sights the light of the lamp wants to bless you with. 

Din. Three letters. Simple. Direct. Unique. Strong. 

“Oh Din, you feel so good in me baby, like how I take your cock? Tell me baby, talk to me, I want to hear you.”

“Yes. God, you’re so beautiful.”

“You’re so big, you’re stinging me so good. You like how my pussy looks stretched around you?”

“Yes, I-I do.”

“I feel desperate, so desperate for you. I love how you feel inside me. What are you looking at baby? Can’t see your eyes, what are you watching me do right now? Where are you focused?”

“On your face. I like watching the way you bite your lip as you f-fuck yourself.” 

God, he still sound so nervous. So new. He can’t be too young, not with that body.

“What color eyes do you have, Din?”

“Brown, b-brown eyes.”

“Mm, I like brown eyes, I bet you’re real handsome all brown eyed and tan skin. Now, have those brown eyes watch my pussy baby, watch how I take you. You can look at my face as I cum for you, Din. Right now I want you to look at my cunt. Are you hard for me Din? Are you as hard as the cock I’m fucking myself with?’

“Yes.”

The five minute warning box shows up again, this time it’s your nemesis that you ignore.

“Do you imagine a pussy as wet as mine when you get yourself off?” 

“Y-yes.”

“Did you make yourself cum after our last session?”

“Yes,” he chokes out, “right after, I-I jerked off.”

“Did you think about me?” Your voice coming out with more curiosity than you’d like. 

“I did, and every time since.”

Your body shivers from his words, “That’s a good boy Din, I like that,” you smile as your hips raise off the bed to meet your quickening thrusts fucking yourself harder.

He groans, long and low.

“I’m going to cum for you, Din,” you pant. ”I’m going to cum on your cock and then I’m going to lick myself up off of you, okay?”

“Fuck, yes.” 

You chant Din’s name as you pound your pussy, tingles shooting through you as you orgasm. You haven’t cum like this on camera in a long time. It’s devastating that not every one of your clients can be Din. 

You stretch your limbs out as you come down from your climax.

“God damn,” you giggle, “that was really fucking good.”

You slowly take the dildo out and bring it to your lips, raising your eyebrow at him and resting the tip against your lips.

“Yes, please, yes,” he growls.

You lick yourself off the silver latex, sucking your juices from the top, smiling as your mouth forms around it. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck,” Din’s voice edges you on.

“Mmm, Din, I taste so good, look how fucking shiny I made your dick.”

“Goooooood, fuck,” he pants, “you’re so pretty, fuck. Fuck, I-I-I I’m going to cum.”

The one minute countdown shows up at the worst time. You quickly lean forward and hit IGNORE, DO NOT CHARGE EXTRA.

“Cum for me Din, cum for me,” you try to disguise your prideful smile behind the silver dildo. 

The groans he lets out as he cums, the way his neck stretches as he angles his head up… it’s all you get, but it’s enough to keep you thinking about him at any chance you get. 

Sometimes a self esteem boost can be as simple as somebody complimenting your shoes or an attractive person giving you a friendly nod… this boost isn’t nearly as simple. Din just came in his pants just for you, without even touching himself.

“I’ve never done that, sorry,” his voice dripping with shame.

“No, Din, baby, no. I really liked it. A lot. I’m glad I could make you feel that way. Really.”

“You’re really… sweet, you know that?”

“I suppose I can be. Depends on the person,” you wink.

“I—uh, think I’m over my time.”

“You are, but I’m not going to charge you for it.”

“Thank you.” 

“Of course. Don’t be a stranger, Din.”

“I won’t.”

He disconnects. You lay back on your bed and grin at your ceiling. 

——

THEWAY would like to chat. Accept?

“Din,” you smile as the familiar black shirt appears on your screen. Thank god, the lamp is on. “It’s only been three days.”

“I know, I-I wanted to see you.”

“That’s good, I wanted to see you too.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you these past few days,” he pauses, “I’m sorry, i-is that okay?”

“Oh, of course it is. I’ve thought about you too baby.”

“You say that for everyone?”

“I do, but this time I mean it. Now, you know I have to give you the same base instructions. Fifteen minutes and then I disconnect. You can touch yourself, I’ll do what you want as long as I am okay with it. I’ll hang up if I don’t feel right. Do you understand?”

“I do.”

“Good, so what do you want tonight?”

“Yeah, I, uh, want to um—will you watch me tonight?”

“Of course baby, I’d be happy to.”

“Okay, yeah, thanks.”

You shake your head and laugh. “No need to thank me, I’m always happy to help you. I was really happy to see your name. So you want me to watch you tonight? Do you want me to do anything else for you?”

“Just, touch yourself and talk to me like you do. I-I’ve never done something like this, nobody has ev—nobody’s seen me like this before.”

He sounds so fragile, you want to take care of him.

“You want me to use a toy or my hand?”

“Just your hand.” 

“Okay baby, I’ll use my hand. I’ll start the timer.” You softly whisper the last part, trying to ignore that at the end of the day he’s is just your client.

He moves the computer farther away, new views are unlocked. His stomach, his crotch, his thick thighs all clad in black. 

You click the start timer button. Fifteen minutes left of this view. Fifteen minutes left of Din. 

You lean back and spread your legs to show him your already wet cunt. 

“Want me to play with my pussy for you? Get you nice and hard so you can fuck yourself until you cum for me?”

“Yes,” he hisses. His hand moves down to grip his crotch. 

Fuck, that sends a wave of pleasure through your body as one of your hands spreads your folds wide open.

“Do you see how fucking wet I am Din? How turned on I am by you, I don’t even know how you look, but you drive me crazy.”

He groans as he squeezes his bulge.

“I love how you groan, I wish I could feel it against my pussy while you eat me. I bet you’d lick me so well.”

“I want to taste you, fuck.”

“I want you to test me too. Now, go ahead, take your shirt and pants off. I want to see the rest of you.”

He quickly removes his shirt. God damnit, he’s perfect. Tan chest, tan stomach, the perfect amount of hair running from his chest to his stomach, down to where he’s currently unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. You can’t believe your eyes, as he lifts his hips to move the fabric down. Everything about him is big and strong. Lean, but filled out in all the right places. Strong and soft. How the fuck is he still a virgin? Your mouth waters at the sight of his erection now barely hiding behind the thin black fabric of his briefs. 

“Din,” you begin to rub circles around your clit, happy for the pressure, “you look so good for me, let me see your cock. Let me stare at it, you want me to see your cock?”

“Yes.”

He’s such a man of few words, you love it. His words are simple, straightforward, efficient, just like his name. Din.

He pulls his boxers down, his cock springs up. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He’s rock hard, pulsing, golden toned, leaking from the tip, all surrounded by dark brown hair, you knew he had dark hair. He’s HUGE.

“Din, you’re fucking beautiful baby, I can’t believe it,” you gasp. “Fuck yourself for me, I can’t wait to see you cum all over your beautiful skin for me.”

His fist wraps around his shaft, you’ve seen some pretty hot things in your line of work. You’ve had some really attractive clients call in, but right now? Right now is the hottest thing you’ve ever been blessed to witness. Din stroking his cock for you, watching his stomach move with each breath he takes. You’re too focused on him to realize your finger has been paused on your clit since he first unsheathed his cock. 

“Fuck, Din, you’re making me forget what I’m doing, you look so good. I can’t believe it.” 

He groans, his grip tightens at the tip as he fucks himself. 

“Something about seeing you like this, hearing you moan and groan for me,” your finger runs a line back and forth between your hole and your clit. “It just does something to me. It’s so fucking sexy.”

He lets out a strangled grunt raising his hips and pumping his hand faster, “I-I don’t think I’m going to last long.”

“That’s good baby, watching you is already making me want to fucking cum,” you stick two fingers in, your cunt already fluttering around them. 

“Wh-what would you do if I was with you right now fu—fucking you?”

“I’d kiss you,” your other hand travels down to begin circling around your clit, “I’d kiss your strong neck, I’d lick into your mouth and taste you. Wrap my hands around your big arms and hold on as your big cock destroys my pussy.”

“Goddddd,” he whimpers, “I-I’d like that.” His hand becoming a blur on your screen as he strokes quicker. 

The stupid five minute warning pop up shows up. You’re getting real good at ignoring it with him.

“You like that I’m about to cum on your cock? You really do something to me Din, I can’t believe how quick and hard you make me cum.”

His hips begin bucking into his first, the chair he’s on squeaking as he rapidly moves up and down. You love hearing the sound of him fucking himself mixed with the sound of you fucking yourself. 

“I’m going to cum baby,” he grunts, he called you baby.

Your eyes widen as you watch him spurt white ropes of his cum all over his stomach and thighs. There’s so much. 

Your cunt begins to spasm around your fingers as your climax crashes through you.

“Din, you feel so good. You came so good,” you gasp as you orgasm, trying to keep your shaking legs wide for him to watch. You pant for air as you get your bearings back, you’re obsessed with how this comedown feels. 

“That was amazing Din,” you smile, “not to be too forward, which is a funny thing to say right now, but you look really good.”

“Wow,” he laughs, “thank you. I feel the same way about you.” Your smile widens, you bet his face is so handsome when he laughs.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how in the hell are you a virgin with a dick like that?”

“Some weird religion stuff… I’m no longer a part of. Long story, maybe one day I’ll tell you.”

“I’d like that.”

The one minute timer shows its ugly head. 

“Fuck, we have a minute left,” you frown. “I, uh, would you take my number?” Now it’s your turn to feel nervous. 

“Y-yes. Sure.”

You lean forward and type your number into the chat box. 

“Please call me here next time you want to… talk with me.”

“I will.”

“Don’t be a stranger, Din.”

“I won’t.”

He disconnects.

——

DIN DJARIN WANTS TO FACETIME 

You almost drop your phone at the name. Goosebumps break out across your skin, your heart begins to beat loudly against your chest. You click accept, and this time you really almost drop your phone. 

His face, you knew it… he’s beautiful.

“Hi,” he shyly smiles.

“Hi. Y-you’re gorgeous?”

He laughs, his big brown eyes disappearing behind the crinkles of his eyes. “If you say so.”

“I do. I’m so glad you called me.”

“I am too,” his smile is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

Sometimes you love your job, especially when it brings someone like Din Djarin into your life. 

[gi4hao]

the idiots you date — x. minghao

roommate!minghao x gn!reader

word count: 1k

genre: fluff but slightly angsty (mention of a past toxic relationship)

“you shouldn’t work for a company that doesn’t respect you”

“yeah, and you shouldn’t date guys who don’t deserve you, yet here we are.”

minghao’s face bears signs of exhaustion that you’ve learned to recognize months ago. signs which started to appear exactly when he took on this new “big corporate job” as you often call it, simply because you’re not quite sure to understand what it is.

you’ve finished your dinner an hour ago. you used to wait for him to come home, but that was when he wasn’t working overtime most days of the week.

“they needed me to finish some urgent reports, i didn’t really have a choice,” he tells you before you can even ask anything. his tone is like a permanent sigh, but you know it’s not directed towards you.

sat at the kitchen table, you remain silent, fiddling with the rings he took off before washing his hands. the lights are dimmed, making the dark circles under his eyes slightly more prominent.

“how was your date?” he asks as he takes his plate out of the microwave, probably wanting to change the subject. but you doubt he’s still interested in your date anecdotes, especially since this one was your third of the week.

although he comes to sit right next to you, you carefully avoid his eyes when you reply:

“okay, i guess? the guy was nice but had terrible takes on most topics we talked about. well, ‘we’ is kind of a stretch because i was doing most of the talking. i think he was just here to eat good food and make me pay for most of it.”

“so… not okay, then”, minghao corrects you, and the silence that follows speaks louder than any word would have.

you’ve been single for almost a year now, and your last relationship was not exactly a model of good and healthy communication.

living alone after the breakup was a depressing prospect, and minghao was in need of a roommate to avoid letting his job drive him insane: a perfect match for two long-time friends like you two.

there was always a certain closeness between you, but living together has made it more intimate, and consequently harder to ignore... which is why you decided to ask for the help of various dating apps in hope to get minghao out of your head.

“yeah, not okay…” you sigh, mindlessly sliding one of his rings on your finger.

your gaze lands on the painting hung next to the fridge. one of minghao’s, which you insisted should be put up in your apartment; swirls of paint meeting in rosebuds and milky tulips. you can still see where the paint was spread across the canvas by his fingers.

with a tinge of sadness, you realize minghao hasn’t drawn anything in months. his paint-covered clothes were all replaced by dull suits that make him look like the people he used to feel sorry for.

“what time do you start tomorrow?” you ask, pouring him another glass of water.

his lips press into a thin line; you’re not sure whether he’s holding back a sigh of annoyance or just mentally preparing for an answer you’re not going to like.

“7. there’s a meeting i need to prepare for.”

“and when you get to the office at 7, are other employees there? or just you?”

“don’t start,” he rolls his eyes, grabbing his plate to go put it in the dishwasher. “we’ve already discussed this, it’s a dead-end.”

he’s right, this conversation has never ended well. but your eyes keep coming back to that painting, to everything he’s slowly turning his back to. the sadness ebbs away, giving way to a rising anger:

“no, i will start actually,” you state, walking up to him. “you’re unhappy, hao. you shouldn’t work for a company that doesn’t respect you.”

“yeah, and you shouldn’t date guys who don’t deserve you, yet here we are,” he replies, slamming the dishwasher shut. but his voice sounded more cutting than intended: “i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have said that.”

there are a thousand words on your lips right now, but few of them would be reasonable to say out loud. meanwhile, minghao is looking at you like you’re a ticking time bomb.

“but you said it. so now i expect you to either hit me with a miracle solution or kiss me.”

you said it without really thinking, basically shrugging as you know he will never take you seriously. the best outcome would be for him to never speak about your love life ever again.

but his reply makes you instantly freeze: “what if i did both?”

a rush of warmth spreads from the pit of your stomach, radiating through your entire body as his hand comes to meet your cheek, silently asking for confirmation that this is something you want.

your lips crash against his before he can even start to lean in, and the feeling of his skin so close to yours feels so unreal you expect him to push you away any second.

but instead, he matches your eagerness to the point where you’re scared you might lose your balance.

“i hope you like that solution,” he breathes out, leaving one last kiss on your nose.

in that fleeting moment, you reunite with the old minghao, the lively one who makes his own decisions and owns up to his actions. the one you fell in love with years ago.

“absolutely”, you chuckle, your hands meeting behind his neck. “…so i guess i can tell that guy we won’t go on a second date.”

“you better,” he earnestly tells you as he starts to take his black blazer off. “working from 7 to 9 will never be as painful as watching another idiot take you on a date. from now on, i’ll take care of it.”

-> rbs and feedback are always appreciated!

masterlist here!

[siredtosturniolos]

I don’t know if you’re writing for Chris but I have a request. Reader is a virgin and is inexperienced like she has zeroooo clue about sex and she is hella shy.

Chris is her first time and he’s teaching her and is helping her to talk about the things she wants because she gets embarrassed really fast when she’s talking about this topic. Just make it smutty but also cute. I had a dream about this last night I NEED A FIC ABOUT IT. U can come up with everything just be very detailed. I hope u understand everything, English isn’t my first language 💗💗

nervous

Paring: Chris Sturniolo x Reader

Summary: You and Chris had just started dating, and you were finally spending the night at his house for the first time. One kiss leads to another, and you can't help but feel lost. You want Chris but you were nervous, as this would be your first time.

Warnings: smut, first time, Y/N is used, pet names ofc. (praise kink if u squint)

Authors note: Thank you for the request! I actually love this sm. (Keep sending in requests, I write for Matt as well!)

Word count: 2769 (holy shit??)

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

My heart begins to pound against my chest as Chris kisses me, blindly leading me towards his room. My fingers were tangled in his hair, tugging slightly as his tongue traced my bottom lip, making Chris let out a soft groan into the kiss. My back was pushed against a cold surface, to which I could only guess it to be Chris’ door.

Chris’ hands find their home on my waist, his hips surging forward so I can feel how hard he is for me. Chris breaks the kiss to leave a trail of kisses down my neck, beginning to suck onto my soft skin of my collarbone.

“Chris!” I gasp out, my back arching into his touch. He smirks against my sensitive skin before he bites softly, driving me wild. He uses his tongue to soothe his previous attack, making it all the more pleasurable.

Chris returns to his full height, “You look so good like this sweetheart.” He murmurs, letting his eyes scan over my features, “Can’t wait to see how you look when you cum on my cock.”

My breath hitches at his words, stumbling after Chris as he lets me walk into his now open bedroom. I make my way to his bed biting my lip, I was nervous for what was to come, but I was ready.

The hardest part would be having to tell Chris, knowing he’d get upset if I didn’t. Chris shuts and locks his door before turning to face me. I twist my hands together, one of my unfortunate nervous habits, and he quickly takes notice.

He glances down at my fidgeting hands, “Baby, we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” He speaks gently, walking to stand in front of me. He takes one of my hand into his, bringing it to his lips to place a gentle kiss.

I shake my head, “I want this.” I reply, itching to snatch my hands out of his grip. I could feel my cheeks flush with heat underneath his gaze, and tears threatened to fill my eyes.

“Then what’s got you so nervous?” He quietly asks, lifting his other hand to my cheek, to guide my head upwards to meet his eyes. Panic shoots through his expression as he meets my own watering eyes, moving to take a seat next to me.

“You.” I whisper to him, closing my eyes, “This will be my first time.” I admit, keeping my eyes closed. I couldn’t bare to see the look on his face right now.

I hear him quietly gasp from beside me, “You can’t be serious?” He asks, making me frown.

I open my eyes to look at Chris, who looked completely shocked, “I know, I’m 20 years old and have never been with someone. I understand if you don’t wanna be with me either.” I mumble, and begin to stand.

Chris stops me, “Baby, no. I’m honored to be your first, if you want me to be. We can wait if you want even, I’m in no rush.” He smiles softly at me, making my heart warm. "I'm just surprised you hadn't had sex before, you're so damn sexy."

"Why haven't you told me this before?" He asks, making me take a deep breath.

I shrug, "It's embarrassing Chris, I dunno."

He places a sweet kiss to my forehead, "You've got nothing to be embarrassed about with me, okay?"

I nod in understanding, “I’m ready for you now, Chris.” I whisper as he wipes the stray tear that had fallen. Chris nods and leans in to kiss me again. It starts off as sweet, but within a few moments it’s gotten messy and rough. Chris slots his tongue past mine, licking my teeth has me moaning out.

Chris leans further into me, and I take it as a hint to scoot backwards onto his bed. I let my head fall against the pillows as Chris climbs on top of me, running his hands from my thighs to my waist. He pulls away briefly to remove his zip up hoodie and his shirt, and my jaw wants to fall open.

Sure, Chris has been shirtless in front of me before, but it just felt different this time. I bring one hand to the center of his chest, and I can't help but grin as I feel how quickly his heart is beating. Chris rolls his eyes at me, and lifts my other hand to his chest as well.

He drops his hands and I begin to move mine, dropping to his stomach, letting my acrylic nails slightly scratch at the sensitive skin of his lower stomach. Chris lets out a quiet whimper as I do this, and I can't help but try to roll my hips, seeking some sort of relief.

"I wanna hear what feels good to you." He states as he leans up to kiss me briefly, "Wanna know what you like." I hum in response, letting him know I heard him.

Chris begins to play with the bottom of my shirt, "Can I take this off baby?" He asks, making my hands freeze. I look at anywhere but him when I nod, "Wanna hear words, pretty girl." He murmurs, grabbing my chin so I would look at him.

My cheeks flush, "Please take it off." I whisper, biting my lip as Chris mutters praises while slowly inching my shirt upwards. I lift my arms and help him remove it from my body, quickly leaning back against the bed.

Chris' jaw drops, taking in my bare chest for the first time, "Fucking perfect." He groans, lifting both hands to cup my breasts, making me gasp. My eyes fall shut as he pushes them together, his thumbs running over my nipples. "Eyes on me sweetheart." He speaks, making me let out a whine.

I meet his eyes just for him to lean down and take my nipple into his mouth. Instantly I'm arching my back into his chest, my hand flying to the back of his head. "Chris." I gasp as he lightly sucks around my sensitive bud, I subconsciously grind into him making him moan around my tit and I swear I'm in heaven.

He switches to the other one as I keep grinding against him, tugging on his hair as his mouth gets greedy, his teeth slightly scrapping my skin. He releases my abused bud and begins to kiss downwards, shuffling down the bed.

"Did you like that baby?" He asks cockily, as if he didn't know the answer already. I stay silent, which he doesn't like, as he suddenly nips at my hip.

"Fuck, yes I liked it." I grit out, peering down at him as he helps me spread my legs so he could rest between them.

"Good girl." He praises me, squeezing at my inner thighs. I whine, the anticipation nearly killing me at this point. He meets my eyes as he begins to roll my shorts down, and I lift my hips as he slides them down.

"Wanna taste you." Chris mumbles, kissing from my lower thigh to almost exactly where I needed him the most. I had never been this turned on in my life, so everything seemed to be coming easier to me. "Please." I beg him, watching as a satisfied smirk settles on his lips.

He leans forward and places a kiss to my clit over my panties, my hips wanting to surge forwards at the pressure, but I refrain. Chris bends my knees for me, and my heart is kicked into overdrive as I realize this is really happening.

He pulls my panties to the side, his eyes leaving mine as he takes the sight of me completely bare in. I open my mouth to whine but my words are cut off with a moan as Chris leaned forward and let his tongue begin to explore me.

"So fucking wet for me," Chris groaned, trailing his tongue down to my entrance before retreating, "Tastes so good." His tongue finds my clit, making my back arch off the bed and my hips twitch. Chris quickly rests one of his arms across my waist, anchoring me in place.

My hand finds his hair as his tongue starts twirling around my clit, sending wave after wave of pleasure throughout my body. It was almost too much. I gasp as I feel his fingers sliding up the skin of my thigh.

"Gonna get you ready for me, that okay baby?" He asks, pulling away from me. His chin glistens, wet from myself and I wish I could take a picture. Maybe next time.

"Please Chris." I reply, desperate for some sort of relief. His tongue returns to my clit as his pointer finger lightly swipes through my folds, collecting my wetness. He circles my entrance, before he slowly starts to push in. It's a weird feeling, but it feels so good.

"Chris." I gasp out, his finger slowly thrusting into me, as he applies more pressure to my clit to ease any discomfort I could be feeling, "Feels so fucking good." I choke out between my moans, and I can feel the coil in my stomach begin to form.

Chris hums against my clit, making my hips buck into his touch. I feel a second finger start to push in, and the burn of the stretch hurts so good. My eyes shoot down to Chris, who is already looking up at me. The coil in my stomach grows even stronger, making me whine out.

"Chris I t-think I-I'm close." I stutter out, both of his fingers pumping into me at a decent pace. I throw my head back as I moan, as Chris had started to hum against my clit, the shockwaves of pleasure overwhelming me.

My eyes fill with tears, and the coil in my stomach finally snaps. I gasp and moan as I release on Chris' fingers, my hips twisting and turning as I ride out my orgasm. Chris finally pulls away, removing his tongue from my clit and he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean.

"I could eat you out for hours." He rasps, shuffling upwards and taking in my tear strained face, "You look so pretty when you're fucked out." He groans, slamming his lips onto mine.

Our tongues meet in a frenzy and i can taste myself as his tongue traces mine. I left my hands fall to his sweatpants, sliding my hand underneath the thin fabric. I feel the hard outline of his cock through his boxers, and when I begin to trace it, Chris' hips stutter against my touch.

"Fuck, baby." Chris pants, quickly kicking off his sweatpants before he's letting me explore him again. I can feel him throbbing in my hand, and I can't help but wish he was doing that in my mouth.

I slip my hand inside of his boxers, feeling the smooth skin of his cock for the first time. Chris lets out a whimper as my fingers gently brushes against his slit, feeling the bead of precum.

"You're gonna make me cum if you keep that up." Chris groans from above me.

I look up at him with wide eyes, "What?"

Chris smiles down at me, "You don't even realize how much power you have over me." He whispers, leaning forward to kiss me again. He removes my hand and starts to peel off his boxers without breaking the kiss. My hands go to his shoulders, trailing over his collar bones as he backs away from me.

"This is gonna hurt." Chris tells me, while grabbing a condom. He goes to put it on but I stop him, "Show me how?" I ask shyly, to which he nods. I sit up slightly as he hands me the condom.

"Rip it open." He instructs, and I follow suit, "You gotta pinch it a little, then place it on my tip and roll it down." I grin excitedly once it's on, my smile fading as I look to Chris and find him biting his lip with his eyes close.

"Chris?" I whisper, lifting a hand to his face. His eyes flutter open and meet mine.

He rests one hand next to my head, the other taking hold of his cock. He rubs his tip through my folds, teasing me as he bumps against my clit. I suck in a deep breath, trying to control my hips from wanting to squirm away from his touch.

"You ready baby?" He asks, peering down at me. His silver chain with the planet dangles between us, and he's never looked hotter.

I nod, "I'm ready for you, Chris." I softly reply, gripping his arms as he begins to push inside of me. My jaw drops open at the new feeling, the burning sensation from the stretch making my eyes water.

"I got you baby." He soothes me, bringing his hand from my waist to cub my clit, attempting to distract my body from the pain. I choke out a moan as he's fully inside of me, stilling his hips to give me time to adjust.

"Baby?" He asks, brining me out of the trance I had fallen into. I meet his worried eyes, "Please move." I whisper, shifting my hips. He places his lips on mine as he begins to slowly thrust, the tears now falling as the burning sensation intensifies.

I meet Chris' eyes, and the pain falls away. Pleasure replaces it instantly, as I take in the sight before me. His eyes are boring into mine, his cheeks flushed. His mouth is open in a silent moan, his necklace swinging with the rhythm of hips hips jutting into mine.

"Feels so good." I moan out, my hands moving to dig into his back. Chris groans from above me, his hips moving faster.

"Yeah?" He pants, letting out a groan, "You like the way I fuck you baby?" He rasps, moaning loudly as I clench around him. "My dirty girl likes dirty talk, huh?" He asks, smirking down at me.

"So much." I gasp, tugging him down to kiss him. Time seemed to stand still as I savored this moment, feeling the warmth of Chris' skin hovering above mine. Chris' hands traveled my body, tender caresses warming my heart.

The coil in my stomach rapidly builds, as Chris' hips get more erratic, leading me to believe he's getting close too. I clench down on him at the realization, and Chris moans into my mouth.

"I'm so close." I whimpered as soon as Chris pulled away from the kiss, my eyes fighting to close.

Chris lets out a grunt at my confession, "Me too baby. Wanna come together." He pants, shifting my knees back more, changing the angle. The tip of his cock hits deeper now, making me let out a rather loud moan as he hits a special spot within me.

"There it is." Chris comments, keeping his hips positioned the same way and speeds up his thrusts.

"Chris!" I gasp loudly, my back arching. I did my nails into his back as I begin to teeter on the edge of my orgasm.

"Y/N, come with me." He demands, and the coil inside me finally snaps. I moan out Chris' name as the waves of pleasure come to a crest.

"Fuck! You're squeezing the life out of me sweetheart." Chris groans, and I can feel his release enter the condom, and his thrust slow down before stopping once we rode out our orgasms. Chris disposes the condom quickly, laying down next to me.

"Hi." I whisper, turning to face him. He let a smile grace his lips before he leans forward and places a short and sweet kiss on my lips.

"How was it?" He asks, gently rubbing my arm.

I smile at him, "Good. Really good." I reply, making him laugh.

"Thank god." He laughs, before turning slightly serious, "I can't wait till you're crying on my cock, purely from the fact it feels so good."

I gasp, "Chris!"

[ilyhaitanii]

keep it down, and quick 𖤛 alhaitham

synopsis: alhaitham can feel someone staring at him from across the library. when further investigating the matter, he ends up having a quick… session with someone special in an aisle that brings back memories.

warnings: nsfw. public sex, lots of teasing, fingering, oral (f!receiving), finger sucking, cum play (?)

a/n: alhaitham brainrot is so bad right now i had to write this. sorry if it’s bad i was thinking with my clit (when do i not though?)

ALHAITHAM:

alhaitham has never been one to look too deep into conversations. he doesn’t like beating around the bush. if there’s something you need to tell him, just say it. no point in sugarcoating words.

he’s not cruel, of course. he understands it’s human nature to not understand your own feelings. however, he believes that logic does not apply to this situation.

you are very in-tune with your emotions right now. he knows that look on your face all too well. the slight flush, parted lips, and dilated eyes that stare at him from across the library. he knows you’re staring, hell he can feel it. every now and then he likes teasing you by looking right at you. he watched the way you jump and turn back around the corner, praying he doesn’t see you. (he can see you very clearly.)

when you turn back around to stare at him, he doesn’t even move. he looks right at you, an eyebrow raised. you flinch, fully running away from him. alhaitham does not like people who beat around the bush, but you however? he can entertain it for a bit. besides, there’s not much he has to do right now. work as the acting grand sage is slow as of now. why not entertain his very cute wife who hides behind bookshelves and stares at him like a schoolgirl.

he rises from his seat gingerly, taking his sweet time to walk towards you. within a matter of a few seconds, alhaitham finds you. he loops his fingers around your wrist, tugging you towards him. with his brow still raised, he looks down at you. you press your arm onto his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from his black shirt.

“is there a reason you wear such tight shirts, or is it just to bother me?” you ask him with a breathy voice. he smiles down at you as your fingers trace the gem on his chest. he leans down, lips brushing against the cartilage of your ear,

“a mix of both. now out with it— why are you running away from me?” he leaves the softest kiss on your ear, making you twitch in his hold. you almost drop the book you’re reading, but alhaitham has already accounted for that. he puts the book back on the shelf, cramming you into a corner.

his tall, muscular stature looms over you. you feel quite small under him and his intense gaze. you fidget with your fingers, picking at the sides of your nails. he takes a hold of your hands, separating them. he places one on his cheek, pressing his lips into your wrist.

“what is it? i don’t have all day,” he mumbles, eyes flutter shut. he’s annoyingly pretty like this. all up and close in your face with his eyebrows slightly downcast. that serious look on his face always gets you going. as you press your thighs togther, alhaitham shoves one of his between yours. “speak now or i’m leaving.”

he would leave you hanging like this— would he?! he would. he almost does until you pull him back by the shirt. he turns, leaning down as you pull him into a kiss. with your hand bunching his shirt in your fist, alhaitham’s hands crowd your waist and hips, pulling them closer to his body.

the kiss is incredibly hot. his tongue swirls together with yours, saliva mixing together. you feel yourself borderline drooling over his body touching yours. four years of marriage and you still aren’t used to how attractive your husband really is. when he pulls back a string of saliva follows after his tongue.

“you could’ve told me this in the morning. i would have changed my schedule for you. you know that,” his thumb rubs your cheekbone, watching the way you melt into his palm.

“i know, i just missed you a lot.” he looks around behind him. nobody is really here. lots of people are on a lunch break. however a small part of alhaitham wants to keep teasing you. he remembers all those days on the playground where you’d tease him as children.

you were always taller, had longer legs. you were always able to reach the higher leveled books he wanted to read when you both were younger. in this very section of the library you had grabbed a book he was mere seconds away from grabbing. when he politely asked you for it back, you raised it way above your head and told him to get it himself.

you always teased him for walking so slow in the hallway compared to you and your longer legs. you always teased him for being so small when you were children, terribly unaware that when you both would graduate secondary school that when you came back from your summer break in mondstadt that alhaitham would be much taller than you.

it was now you who shorter than him. he always reached to the middle of your chin, ghosting the bottom of your lip. but now, you were merely up to his chest. nearly a whole ruler shorter than him. then he’d grown muscle. the young prodigy you’d teased in primary school, who you’d poke and prod at finally grew up.

a part of you also felt jealous whenever he’d garner the attention of other girls your age. nobody played with him when you both were children aside from you. but now everyone wanted to act as though they knew him. he’d always been alhaitham— your alhaitham. he hadn’t changed, so why should your feelings? (your deep love for him you’d mistaken as pure “admiration”)

alhaitham gained your attention, looking down at your eyes. he drops a kiss on your nose, guiding a few down your cheeks.

“i love you,” he says softly, encasing your lips into a much softer kiss. you cling onto him, arms looped around his broad shoulders. when he pulls back there’s a soft smile of his face, “i still need to hear you say it.”

you pout, your hands flailing at your side. you hide your face into his neck, hugging his waist. as your fingers trace the trained muscles on his back, you mumble

“you already know what i want. why can’t you just do it?” he kneels below you, pulling your skirt up as his lips pepper kisses up the exposed skin. he takes his time, mouthing at your skin, making you needier by the second.

“im not a ‘know-it-all,’ as you like to put it. i can’t read your mind, darling.” he says in that sickly-sultry voice of his. that part of him makes your brain razzled and body tremble. every kiss makes your heart beat ten times faster. the higher up your thighs he gets, the more you tremble. the more soaked your panties become you realize when he presses kisses against your soaked slit.

your hands dart to your sweetheart’s hair, tangling your fingers into his sliver strands. your cant help but buck against his mouth when he leaves a hard kiss against your clothes clit. a soft moan of his name has him shushing you gently. he pulls you into a kiss when he stands at his full height.

“noisy girl. always have something to say to me, hm?” his lips take your agais as his fingers rub all over your wet slit. he watches the way you whine and mewl into his mouth, begging for more. a helpless plea leaves your mouth when his fingers brush over your clit. “let me hear it, love.”

“please?” is all you can muster up. alhaitham tsks, hot breath against your ear. he speaks in that low tone of his,

“please what, love? please don’t touch me? please touch me? please make me cum? what is it?” alhaitham teases, letting out a soft snicker when you whine. “hm?”

“need you,” you grab at his body, mumbling into his chest. “need you to make me cum, please. i tried this morning, i couldn’t do it without you.” his dick twitches in his pants just hearing that. he curses, taking you into a kiss again,

“don’t ever say that to anyone else, please.” he says in a breathy pitch before dropping to his knees. “stay quiet, okay?” he says as he ducks under your skirt. his hands drag up your thighs, parting your legs.

alhaitham slides your panties over your shoes and pockets them for later. one look at your face and alhaitham can tell just how wet you are. he opens you up, looking at your swollen clit that’s just begging to be touched. he also notices how you clench around absolutely nothing. he chuckles lightly, sliding two fingers deep inside your cunt.

your knees instantly buckle, but alhaitham holds you in place. you let out breathy moans as your hands tangle into his silver strands. he tsks again, sighing against your cunt.

“quiet, baby. noisy girl, you always have something to say to me, dont you?” you don’t know if he’s talking about your moans or the fact your cunt is squelching over every movement of his finger. “so messy.”

you have to stop yourself from toppling forwards when alhaitham’s tongue darts out to your clit, circling around the bud. the tip of his tongue ghosts over it.

“look at me,” he demands and you instantly lock eyes with him. “good girl. don’t take your eyes off of me, okay?” he says in a soft tone, before his tongue swirls over your clit. he treats the poor bud with no mercy. swirling it in circles, wrapping his lips around it to suck on it even when you beg for him to stop.

your head is spinning and you feel as though your legs are about to give out on you. your grip on his hair tightens and alhaitham moans into your cunt.

“cant, haitham. i cant-“ he hums into your clit, still keeping eye contact with you. your head feels as though it’s about to explode with how intense the pleasure he’s giving you is.

“cum for me, sweetheart. i can feel how close you are, mahiya. do it,” alhaitham keeps a steady grip on your as you cream around his fingers, slick and cum gushing over his digits. you weakly whimper when his tongue laps at your clit, riding out your high. he’s quick to shush you, but putting his fingers into your mouth.

“clean it all up for me, love. good,” he praises you so gently and his fingers in your mouth feel so nice you might just fall asleep right here. “let’s get you home, darling. we still have more things to do,”

© ilyhaitanii - do not repost, translate, plagiarize

[mattyriddlesbitch]

hey! Love your writing! Could you do a fic where Tom finds reader beaten and bruised and he raises hell trying to figure out who did it? Also can the reader be a hufflepuff? Have an amazing day!!!!

I didn't specify the house, but I hope this works!

Protector

Tom Riddle x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of attack, broken bones, blood

You were in one of the bathrooms at the sink, trying to wash away all the blood on your skin and clean the cuts. It was a typically abandoned bathroom, no one really used it. So you were surprised when the door opened and none other than Tom Riddle came in.

You and Tom had a weird relationship, but he was weird in general. You were nice and friendly with him, and he gave you short responses in return. He didn't exactly seem to hate you, he wasn't rude and he didn't insult you. He just didn't really seem to care about you.

But now that he saw you all bloodied and bruised, you saw anger in his eyes. He was livid. “Who did it?” Was all he asked.

“It's fine, Tom. Don't worry about it.” You said, turning back to the sink to finish cleaning up.

“You're hurt, (Y/N). It's not fine. Who did it?” Tom walked over to you.

“No one.” You just wanted him to drop it. It'd only get worse if he got involved.

“They hurt you, why are you protecting them?” His tone was harsher than normal.

“I don't want you involved.” You said, still not meeting his eyes.

“So instead, you protect the people who hurt you. You're being stupid.” It was the first time he actually insulted you in some way.

“Leave it alone, Tom.” You said before turning off the sink and leaving the bathroom.

The next day, you didn't see any of your attackers in classes. There were a few people close to your attackers that were injured, a broken arm, broken nose, cuts, bruises. They wouldn't say a word about what happened. 

You wanted to question Tom since he was the only one you knew of that knew what happened to you. But he was missing from classes too. No one had seen him and none of the injured students would talk to you.

You waited outside of the Slytherin common room, hoping to catch him coming in or out. It took a long time actually. He didn’t show up until just minutes before everyone was supposed to be in their common rooms. He came down the hallway, looking right past you.

“Where have you been?” You asked, trying to get his attention.

“Urgent matter to attend to.” He said as he was walking closer.

“You mean those students who attacked me?” You crossed your arms in front of your chest.

“They’re dealt with.” He said as he stopped in front of you.

“I told you to leave it alone!”

“So you can keep getting hurt?” 

You both stared at each other for a moment.

“Why do you care? You never care.”

“It’s not about you. I think it’s pathetic to attack someone like that. So I gave those cowards a lesson.” He crossed his arms as well.

“You’ve never done that for anyone before.” You shook your head. “Why? Why me?”

“I don’t know.” He said harshly. “I don’t get it. I saw you hurt and…I couldn’t bear it. I got angry and wanted nothing more than to hurt those people who dared to touch you.”

You were shocked, staring at him in disbelief.

“I don’t understand why I did it. I just wanted to.” His voice was softer now. “I felt…like I had to protect you.”

“Tom…” You spoke softly.

“I thought I hated you. I couldn’t get you out of my head. You’re annoying and talkative and bubbly and I should hate that. I should hate that I can’t stop thinking of you and how you make me feel. Your voice, your laugh, your perfume, your smile. I want to hate it all. But I don’t. I can’t.” He said, staring in your eyes.

“What are you saying, Tom?” You asked after a moment to let his words sink in.

“I’m saying that I don’t hate you. Quite the opposite.” He said, his eyes trailing down.

“You like me?” You asked, a small smile growing on your face.

“I’m not saying that.” He scoffed, looking back up at you.

“But that’s what you mean.” You tease.

“I’ll never say those words.” He shook his head.

“It’s alright. I know what you were trying to say.” You said before turning to walk down the hallway back to your dorm.

“I didn’t-” He yelled after you before groaning, heading into the Slytherin common room, knowing there’s no point in arguing with you.

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[sapphicantics]

Shambles

Pairing: Regina George x fem!reader

Summary: After Regina’s life goes down in shambles, she calls on the one person who’s always there for her.

Contents: lots of self-hate from Regina, vulnerable!Regina, sweetheart!reader, reader’s an angel, hurt/comfort

Word count: 951

Author’s note: Personally this came out a lot shorter than I would have liked, but it is what it is 🤷‍♀️ Based on the TikTok audio “you came, you called.”

— — — —

Regina George does not do vulnerability.

Vulnerability means weakness and being weak is not a trait that she possesses.

She’s the apex predator and people cower at her feet, tripping over themselves to please her.

Of course, that’s all before Cady fucking Heron steals her throne, steals her friends, steals her boyfriend, ruins her life, and gets her hit by a bus.

Now she’s stuck at home with this ugly ass spinal collar on, she has to take this pain medication that makes her loopy as hell, and she has to rely on her mother for help with the simplest of things.

Embarrassingly enough, she thinks the worst part of it all is that she’s alone.

She knows she shouldn’t care about that, knows it shouldn’t matter that nobody came to see her.

She wishes she could say she didn’t understand why no one came, wishes she could say they’re the rude ones, the mean ones who don’t care, but she can’t. She’s never been an easy person to approach before so why would she be now, after everything’s been taken from her and her life’s been turned to shambles?

Her eyes sweep over the flowers scattered about her room, pity gifts left at the front door by her classmates who clearly don’t mind spending money on her anonymously, but don’t have the courage to show they care in person.

She knows it’s her fault she’s by herself.

She glances to her phone on the blanket next to her, wondering if she really has to be.

The phone goes straight to voicemail and Regina releases a shaky breath as she speaks. “Hey, I’m probably the last person you want to hear from right now, but I’m having a tough time and I didn’t know who else- I didn’t have anyone else to call. I can’t do this — I don’t want to do this alone. I know I deserve this, but please I…,” the phone beeps, her voicemail reaching the time limit before she can finish. Still she whispers into the quiet room, a single tear sliding down her cheek. “I need you.”

Exhaustion starts to creep in and for once, despite hating how tired her meds always make her, Regina doesn’t fight it allowing her eyes to slip shut and sleep to take over.

She wakes sometime later, her back throbbing in pain and a groan escapes her as she attempts to push herself into an upright position only succeeding in aggravating her back more.

“Careful there,” a voice — one that is decidedly not her mother — calls from beside her before a pair of hands are helping her into a more comfortable position. There’s shuffling next to her and she tries to turn and see who it is because there’s no way it’s who she actually hopes thinks it is, but her brace is making it impossible to turn her head so she stays facing forward until finally you step into her field of vision.

Regina blinks, trying to determine if you’re actually standing in front of her or if her medicine is making her hallucinate. “You came.”

“You called.”

It’s a simple response, one that falls easily from your lips and succeeds in making Regina spiral, thoughts of why, why, why, swirling through her head.

Why’d you come running just because she asked you to?

Why’s it so easy for you to come running to her?

Why didn’t you abandon her like everyone else?

Why do you tolerate her after everything?

“How many do you need?”

The question pulls Regina from her head and she looks to the orange pill bottle in your hand before returning her gaze back up to yours. “Just one.”

You nod, shaking the bottle until the pill falls into your palm and you help Regina take it, cupping your hand under her chin while she takes slow sips from the water bottle in your hand.

A single drop escapes her mouth and slips down her chin and you wipe it away with your thumb, your hand warm against her cheek and it takes everything in Regina not to lean into the touch.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she says after a few moments of silence. “You should’ve ignored me.”

“Never, Regina.”

“I’m not a good person, you know. You shouldn’t be wasting your time on me. I’m not worth it.”

“Being mean doesn’t make you a bad person.” You shake your head at her, cupping her cheeks in your hands. “I’m not wasting my time; you’re worth everything to me.”

Regina can’t stop the tears from falling at that. You’re good to her, to everyone really, but always, especially to her; you’re too good to her and she doesn’t deserve it, doesn’t deserve you. She knows that, there’s a part of her that has always known and refused to acknowledge it, choosing instead to bask in it like she always does, but now that she has, now that she’s had all this time to reflect, it’s too much for her.

She’s so mean, she’s such a bitch, and you’re so sweet, you’re an angel even when you shouldn’t be, like now, with her, and she’s consumed with so much guilt.

The tears come harder, a pained sob escaping her.

Carefully, you take her into your arms and she squeezes you tight to her, burying her face in your side. Crying hurts, but she can’t stop. You card your fingers through her hair and scratch lightly at her scalp, whispering soft reassurances to her.

“I’ve got you, Regina. You don’t have to do this alone anymore. I’m here, I’m right here.”

You press a kiss to the top of her head.

“I’ll always be here for you.”

[maidragoste]

Hiiii!!!! I (18) was wondering if you could write a Jace x his mothers handmaiden reader, where they have a secret relationship 🤙🏼🤙🏼❤️❤️

anon, sorry for taking so long to write your request. I hope you enjoy it and thanks for reading 🥰💖💖

btw it wasn't clarified so I didn't write reader as a low-born handmaiden (that is, the ones who clean the urinals and that) but as a high-born one.

likes, comments and REBLOGS are always greatly appreciated 🥰💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

A frustrated sigh left your lips as you tried to break free from Jacaerys's grip only for the prince to press your body even closer to his so you couldn't get out of bed. You turned to demand that your lover let you go but you remained silent, watching Jace's face. Even though he had his eyes closed you were sure by the lazy smile on his face that he was awake. He looked beautiful. He always looked beautiful but these moments only belonged to you. You wanted to wake up every day next to him but you couldn't. Your duty was to Princess Rhaenyra, you cannot allow yourself to be distracted. Besides, if she found out that you were having a secret relationship with her beloved son, she would throw you out and your family would be very disappointed in you for having wasted the opportunity that the princess gave you to choose you as one of her handmaidens. Not only that but your reputation would be ruined, if rumors spread that you no longer possess your virtue then it would be impossible for you to get a husband. You are a fool to continue with this romance, someday Jace will marry a girl from an even more important house than yours and you will have to sit silently watching everything. There is no happy ending to this.

“My prince, I have to go,” you said, hoping he would stop playing dumb and let you go.

“No,” he complained, lengthening the “o.” Your place is at my side” he moved his face closer to kiss you but you moved, he tried again but you avoided him again “What's wrong” he asked, letting you go so he could sit properly on the bed.

"It's late, I should go. At any moment your mother will wake up, I have duties to do” you responded without looking at him as you got up. You didn't even have a chance to look for your shoes when he tugged on your arm making you return to the bed. He turns you around so that you both face each other.

“What is wrong?” asked again the prince. “Talk to me, please, my lady,” he asked, looking at you with concern while gently taking your face in his hands.

“I think we should stop seeing each other, my prince.” The uncertainty in your voice was clear but still, your words were a dagger for Jacaerys.

“Why?” Your heart ached as you heard the confusion and anguish in his voice. “. I don't understand, yesterday we were fine”

“Yes, we were. But we won't always be. Someday you will have to get married and you will leave me. “I think the easiest thing for my heart is for us to finish our thing now,” you said, closing your eyes without being able to see the sadness in his eyes anymore. If you continued seeing him you were afraid you would go back on your decision.

Your heart skipped a beat when you stopped feeling Jacaerys's hands. You froze as you listened to him get out of bed and get dressed. You should take the opportunity to leave, it's probably what he wanted but you couldn't move. You really had finished everything.

You opened your eyes as you felt the prince's hands in your hair. Your heart raced as he carefully untangled the knots. Once he finished, he kissed your shoulder. “Finish getting ready so we can go talk to my mother.”

“We?” you repeated.

"Yes. I have no intention of marrying anyone but you,” Jacaerys said calmly as if his words wouldn't change your entire world.

“Jacaerys, marrying me is an idiotic move, my house is not that important, and the lords” your chatter was interrupted by the prince's lips capturing yours. You should be firmer and move away, but you can't, so you surrender to enjoying the taste of your lover's lips, feeling more loved than ever.

"I love you and if my mother wants me to be her heir, she will have to accept it," Jace declared and there was no room for argument in his voice. “You are the only wife I intend to take,” he promised before kissing you again.

Taglist for all my House of the Dragon works

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[https-yeonjun]

yours. (h.kk)

wc. 1300

genre. smut

tags. kai x fem!reader, established relationship, jealous and possessive reader, kind of manipulative reader but not to kai, messy making out, unprotected sex, sub!kai, simp!kai, kai who loves his gf, strength kink (if you squint lol) just two people desperately and madly in love with each other idk what else to tell you

a/n. MINORS DNI!!!! i've been wanting to write for kai for so long omg, this is finally it. please go easy on me this is one of the first things i've written in a while so i'm not super proud of it. (i’m pretty sure there are no gendered pronouns/language but i just put fem reader to be safe)

more of my work

kai knows how it goes every time.

the two of you are at a party that you brought him to, but instead of socializing with your friends like you usually do, you are standing in a corner in the kitchen, sulking as your boyfriend laughs at whatever story they are sharing with him.

you were fine when the two of you walked into the doors but then all of a sudden, something ticked you off and now your arms are folded close to your chest, opening up only so you can sip from the can of hard seltzer that you hold.

it always starts out this way.

phase two commences when he slips away to meet you. he teases you. he playfully asks why you’re in the corner by yourself. he takes your drink out of your hand and places it on the counter behind you. he cups your face to give you a peck on your forehead. you roll your eyes and you reluctantly give him your hands when he flashes you his unbearably charming smile. and he knows that you can’t say no to him when he drags you back to meet your friends.

next, he wants to reassure you and make sure that you’re okay so he’s all over you when the two of you rejoin the circle. you’re enveloped by his large frame, the smell of his cologne lingers around you, and every so often, his lips gently find their home around your face — on your forehead, on your cheeks, on the bridge of your nose, on your glossy lips.

then something happens — and this part is really important.

someone always makes a comment about the two of you. and it always happens to be the same person. ugh, you guys are so cute. they quip. i wish i had a relationship like that. you’re not sure why, but everytime they do this, it always bothers you. maybe it’s their tone, or the way they cock their head to the side at the end of the sentence, that bothers you so much. maybe it’s the smile they give you after that is laced with so much venom that no one else seems to notice. or maybe it’s the fact that apparently no one knows how they weaseled their way into your friend group but since they made their appearance, they have made it a point to make you feel so uncomfortable every time you see them.

regardless, kai always looks forward to this part of the evening, especially when you sigh, give your fakest smile, and say thank you, dragging out the last vowel. you caress his arm and kiss his cheek, snuggling closer to him for the next ten minutes. and once your mental timer goes off, you let out the most practiced and performed yawn. i think we’re going to call it a night, you announce to your friends.

you say your goodbyes and you walk out hand in hand with your boyfriend. he opens the door for you when you get to the car, and now you can drop the pretense.

he can tell that you’re upset. not with him though, you’re never upset with him.

you don’t talk for the entire car ride home. the only sounds are the gentle hum of the car engine and the low indie music that graces the radio.

when you get home, however, the flip switches.

they make me so mad, baby, you don’t even understand. you begin, kicking off your shoes at the door. kai trails behind you, picking up your shoes, rubbing your back, trying to soothe you.

and the way they look at you, you groan at the thought. you turn around to look at your boyfriend. you’re mine, you lean up to kiss him. he hums into the kiss but you pull away.

i need you to say it to me— you’re mine. you repeat again and he repeats after you, almost like you have trained him to follow your every command.

this is the moment he was waiting for all night — when you decide to take your anger out on him.

he drops all the things in his hands and you drag him upstairs to your bedroom. somewhere along the way he rids himself of his clothes so when you push him onto the bed, he is just in his boxers. you kiss him more passionately, with more force. his eyes roll back in pleasure as you kiss down to this chest, leaving bite marks along the way.

you so badly want to be mean to him, tease him, maybe even force him to cum in his underwear. kai loves how selfish you get when it comes to your pleasure. you grind against him only thinking about getting yourself off. but when you sit up to look at him, you remember that you’re not mad at him. you could never be mad at him, not when he gives himself up to you so readily.

you especially love how dazed and pretty he looks when you ride him. your hips roll against his so perfectly and he feels like he’s floating. he needs to dig his nails into your skin to ground himself, to remind himself that this is real — that you are real and that you are his and that he is yours.

you lean down to kiss him, softly cupping his face. he relaxes his hands, sliding them around your waist and pulling you closer to him. the soft kiss deepens when he starts desperately sucking on your tongue. he is so messy as he moans into your mouth. his lips trail away from your mouth, peppering open mouthed kisses around the lower part of your face, sucking along your jawline.

you try to change angles and bounce harder, but he pulls you back down despite your groans as you push yourself up. he’s quick to apologize though: i’m sorry, i’m sorry i-i just he breathes out. i love you. he repeats like a prayer and he grinds up against you.

but just as he is desperate for you, so are you for him. you fervently roll your hips into his. you hide your face in the crook of his neck, biting down on his collarbone as you edge yourself.

as if it is possible for the two of you to be any closer, when your hips begin to stutter, kai holds you closer to his body. it’s okay, i got you. he assures you as he digs his nails into your skin. he thrusts up sloppily and his moans fill the room.

please, please let me cum. let me make a mess out of you. you can’t say no to his pleas but the feeling of euphoria fills your body as you inch closer to your orgasm. the only thing you can do is choke out a weak, yes, please.

his eyes cloud over and your eyes flutter close when you feel his hips stutter just as a string of curses escapes his lips. he pumps his load deep inside you, spurts of cum coat your throbbing pussy, feeling especially warm against your sweaty skin.

he gives you both a moment to calm down before rolling you onto your back. you lean over to him to leave tender kisses all over his face, whispering i love you’s.

he pulls away to meet a pout on your face. where are you going? you ask him.

i wanna clean you up. he proceeds to stand up no, no, no, you protest, pulling him back down to the bed to lay next to you. forget about that; just stay here for a moment. you hold him close to you and you end the night telling him how good he is to you.

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[winwintea]

how dreamies would react to bailing you out of jail

PAIRING ▸ dreamies x reader 

TAGS ▸ none, except jail and chenle being rude at first, and oh karen renjun

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ i have never been arrested, i am a lawfully abiding citizen. have a nice day. i am perfectly normal and sane.

Mark Lee

Mark has never had to deal with the legal system before, so when he receives the phone-call from you, he’s really confused. “You’re… where?” He makes you repeat yourself and how you got in the situation. “What do you mean you can… ‘bail’ yourself out? Don’t you… have to be tried, like in front of a jury?” You have to explain to Mark how bails work, and eventually he begins to understand. “Don’t worry y/n… I’ll get you out, give me a second.” You can hear him leaving his room and running out, “CHENLE ?? CHENLE !! I NEED SOME CASH.” 

Huang Renjun

Renjun is a little annoyed at first when he realizes that it’s the police station calling him and it involves you. “Well, what’d they do?” He asks, carefully, and as he listens to what the officers say, and his temper slowly starts to rise. “And you put them in jail for that?” He’s pissed off now. Not only was his day interrupted, but you got arrested for such a stupid reason. There was absolutely no reason why he needed to be involved either, so if they wanted him involved he would get involved. “You will be hearing from my lawyers…”

Lee Jeno

Jeno, like Mark, would be extremely confused on what exactly was going on. While he listened to you rant about what happened, and how you got put in jail, one thing would be on his mind: Were you a criminal now? He’s still technically trying to process everything that’s going on, nodding and expressing some “Uh-huh”s here and there to let him know you were listening, but his eyes are wide with concern. He really didn’t want you to become a criminal and agreed to buy your bail. (poor jeno)  

Lee Donghyuck

Haechan cannot remain serious for once. He immediately lets out a giant laugh as soon as he hears what happened, “Yo, can you send me the mugshot? I might make some memes with it.” Obviously you aren’t too happy with this at all, and promptly hang up the call, stating that you were going to call someone else. 5 seconds later though, Haechan calls back, apologizing profusely, “SORRY. SORRY. I’LL PAY, I’LL PAY, SORRY”

Na Jaemin

Jaemin is both disappointed in you, but still worried for your wellbeing, so obviously he agrees to come bail you out, “Are you okay? I’m coming… to pick you up, don’t be scared.” When he arrives at the cell, he immediately scolds you, which he deems as appropriate payment for him having to drive over and rescue you. However, Jaemin will absolutely defend you all the way. Once he pays the bail bondsman, he then turns his attention to the officers, “Look at that face officer! Does that look like the face of a criminal to you?” It’s not until you beg him to leave that he finally gives up arguing with them. 

Zhong Chenle

Chenle does not want to help you at all, “I don’t have time sorry.” (okay rude) But Chenle’s biggest mistake was calling you on facetime. You started crying and rambling about how your life was over, and how you were going to get sentenced to jail time, and this did the trick. “Okay. Fine FINE. I’M GOING.” He ends up paying a hefty sum to get your name cleared from the records and so there will be no trial for you! He doesn’t even ask if you did it or not. This is lowkey illegal and corrupt, but Chenle just doesn’t want to see you upset, and who are you to complain?

Park Jisung

Jisung is somehow so calm about the situation? Like, hearing that you got arrested doesn’t even phase him, “Where you at, send me the location, I’ll pick you up.” You’re shocked too, because you expected him to be in panic mode, but he just comes, does the whole bail process like it’s nothing and takes you home. When you’re in the car with him you can’t help but ask why he was so resolute about the whole situation. Jisung just gives you a nonchalant look, “It’s not the first time I’ve done this. Don’t do it again though.” 

[mandarinmoons]

ONE HUG is all i ask for 😭

i am incoherent when i cry. i need him to hold me in his arms while i sob just hold me close and listen to me tell him all my troubles and worries

can this count as a request? like they’re coworkers and something idk what happened on a case that triggered reader to just completely breakdown

hate to be dramatic (ha actually it’s my favorite thing to be) but i’d trust later seasons Spencer with my whole life and i’d be the most grateful girl in the world if you wrote this i swear i’d never take anything for granted again

no pressure though my ketty kat

thank you bbygirl 😔🙏

A suspect in your latest case had been arrested and you were the one asked to question him. During the interview the suspect managed to flip the script and started asking questions from you. You tried your best to keep a straight face and lead the conversation back to the interview, but some of the things he said struck a nerve with you and you excused yourself.

You walked out of the room, took a deep breath and quickly walked to a vacant office so that no one could see the tears pooling in your eyes.

Reaching an empty office you grabbed the handle with your shaky hands to open it, but alas it was locked. You kept trying to budge to see if it was possibly stuck, but it wasn’t. 

A moment later you heard your name being called and you quickly wiped the tears from your eyes. Turning around you saw Spencer jog up to you and look at you worryingly.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah I just needed a minute alone.”

“Your eyes are red.”

You looked down to hide your face, but that didn’t work with Spencer. He took your hand and guided you back to an empty office.

“What’s really going on?”

Knowing Spencer, he wouldn’t let you be until you told him what was wrong. It wasn’t the first time he pulled you aside when he noticed you looked a bit out of it and every time he was very sweet and understanding, so why hide it?

“Well the unsub, or well the guy we think is the unsub, he ended up turning the questions I asked him on me and um…” the tears gathered around your eyes again and your voice turned shaky.

Spencer’s protective instincts kicked in and immediately pulled you against his chest, one hand on the small of your back while the other one held your head.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

The tears rolled down your cheeks and sobs racked through your body as Spencer held you and comforted you, his hold on you getting stronger as your hands gripped his shirt.

Slowly but surely your cries calmed down but Spencer’s hold on you was still as firm as before, he wasn’t going to let you go until he knew you were alright.

As you rested your head on Spencer’s chest his hand ran through your hair, his touches feeling so feather light that you felt like you could fall asleep at any moment.

You looked up at him through your lashes and saw his eyes shining down on you, this man was always going to be concerned about you.

“Thanks Spence.”

Spencer smiled and brushed his thumb over your cheek, “Feeling any better?”

“A lot better yeah,” you nodded and lifted your head. Spencer’s hand still rested on your back, his thumb caressing it slightly making you feel goosebumps go up your arms.

“I’m going to take over the questioning. I don’t want you to get upset again.”

“Spencer, it's fine. I was just being emotional, I’ve-,”

“I do not want you to cry again,” Spencer’s jaw seemed tense and it looked like he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, all you could do was nod and accept it.

Spencer brought you close again for a hug and this time it seemed more personal, his lips rested against your forehead and your heart felt like it was going to leap out of your chest when you felt him press a light kiss to it.

“Go rest at your desk now, I’ve got this.”

Both of you walked out of the office and Spencer took you to your desk, making sure that you were sitting and not going back to do the interview. He looked back at you while walking away and you felt your heart stop again.

Half an hour later Spencer walked out of the interrogation room and announced that the man had confessed and he’d been arrested. His first thought was to come over and check up on you so he strode through the halls to find you still sat at your desk.

“How’d it go?”

“He confessed.”

“That’s good,” Spencer nodded and walked over to you.

“Your cheeks are still a bit red.”

“Yeah, they’ll go away soon don’t worry,” you chuckled and seeing you smile made Spencer smile as well. 

Your eyes met for a moment but it was cut short by Spencer clearing his throat.

“I should go, I have some paperwork to finish up,” Spencer was about to turn around, but you took a hold of his hand before he had a chance to.

“Thanks again, I really appreciate it.”

“Of course.”

You both shared a smile and Spencer moved on to his work, unbeknownst to you that he was hiding a smile and slightly flushed cheeks on the walk back to his desk.

Taglist: @radioactiveinvisible @whoisspence @sreidisms @lanascinnamongirls @luvkatryna @sp3ncelle @iluvreid @khxna @keiva1000 @reidstheyfriend @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @kimm4710 @niktwazny303 @reidsdaisies @mindfullycriminal @cumulo-stratus @themarauderseraslut @gayfor-rosadiaz @gubsbuubs

If you want to be a part of my taglist go here!

You can find my masterlist here!

[appleblueberry-pie]

Honestly trauma bonding is the way to go 😌✨

Reader who adopted a child and loved them more than anything in the world, since she had no family or pets (being spiderwoman is a sacrifice, after all.).

Reader's Green Goblin killed their child brutally in front of her, leaving Reader with immense trauma and depression. (After torturing and then killing GG in the same gruesome way as he did with her child)

Reader who abandons being a Spider-person and goes back to her old job, being a professional gymnast.

Miguel who finds Reader's world, and asks who there isn't a Spider there if the canon event of the radioactive spider biting someone happened long ago.

Miguel who investigating, finds out that Reader is the spider there, however they abandoned their heroic life (mostly because of backlash from the media)

Miguel who one day goes to Reader's house to get answers, first explaining who he is and what the fuck that orange portal is 💀

Miguel understands how Reader feels and explains his backstory, and persuades (forces) Reader to join the Spider Society.

Miguel, that slowly falls in love with Reader and turns into an obsession. Maybe in the future, he can give Reader his kids so they won't have to grieve as much for their dead kids.

You were meant for him.

He shouldn't say that, but no bone or muscle in his entire body disagreed with this statement that he is claiming.

He fell in love with you before he even realized it and happily accepted the fall, knowing just from how you spoke to him, that you know how to love. You love the way that he wants to be loved. And he wants that. He wants you.

He was so goddamn in love with everything about you. He loves the way you speak, the way you carry yourself, the way you look at people, and the way you look at him.

He wants those eyes on him all of the time. So, he tries to work for it.

You looked so tired every single day. Since he found you alone in your apartment of your universe, he knew you held luggage no one else had behind them.

He wanted to at least take half of the weight off of your shoulders. He wanted to brush the midnight tears off of your face. He wanted kiss your callused hands. He wanted to have you.

He truly believes he can fix you.

"There is no fixing me. Nobody can save me."

He had never been so tuned into a conversation before. Mask off, sitting across from you in your living room, on the edge of his seat, staring into your iron eyes. You didn't want to let anyone back in again.

Hearing about your past only made him more determined.

"I can't put that suit back on again.....no. I killed enough people and killed off enough of myself. I don't benefit from that life anymore. Hell, my own city that I fought for doesn't want me anymore. Why the fuck would I even bother trying??" You try to laugh it off and killed the rest of your drink.

"The only person that could make me put that back on is the one I did all of this bullshit for."

You let the silence grow for a little to collect the words building up in your throat. But to speak it was a different battle.

"S/he was mine. S/he was all I had. Every day I had to wake up and go to sleep seeing her/his face, and it's all I needed to continue living another fucking day. And s/he's gone! I thought sparing lives would do me good, and now my babygirl/boy is gone. What the fuck am I supposed to do?" You whispered the words, as if it was forbidden to even speak them aloud.

And every single word you spoke made Miguel feel like he was living in your skin. Every question you asked, everything you said you felt is so close to experience of losing his little girl, it makes him nauseous. He only knew you for a few hours and already wanted to hold you in his arms.

"I can't....I just...can't put that thing back on. I really can't. I'm sorry." Your words slowly turned into a mutter as you fidgeted with your hands.

He doesn't know how many hopeful "yes, you can"s he whispered back to you with comforting (consensual) hugs before you had on that damned suit again and was in the middle of HQ.

His room was quiet. Peaceful, as he typed away on his technology you weren't interested in at all.

You felt so naked in the suit, but for some reason, it made you feel more secure than you'd ever felt these past few years......maybe this would be okay for now.

Miguel looked back at you, seeing you staring off into the distance and stopped typing to place his hand on your shoulder.

You looked up at him with those sad, tired eyes. Just seeing your face as clearly as it was, it continued to give him hope to be the one to support your during your healing process. You clearly needed the help. And if anyone could do it well, he was certain that it would be him.

[tac-the-unseen]

JUST READ THE COD GANG REACTING TO READER FALING AN ORGASM SO WHAT IF READER ADMITS THEY NEVER HAD ONE BEFORE?????? LIKE- NEW RELATIONSHIP??????? SORRY FOR CAPS IM ECSTATIC RN BC UR WORK IS SO GOOD🫶🫶🫶🫶🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌

COD characters finding out that Reader's past lover(s) have never given them an Orgasm.

Am I exactly sure what Anon is asking? No, But I will persist.

I'm choosing to write this with the interpretation of Reader never having an orgasm even though they've had sex with others. (The other way I read it was that Reader just flat out never had an orgasm before, and I think that's extremely unrealistic. So we're going with that one) ALSO because of the prompt You and the guys have yet to bump uglies!

Ghost:

•Simon is a little confused "Like...None of them?"

•He takes it very seriously

•He asks you to elaborate a little more. He just wants to know if the other guys sucked (or just didn't in this case) or if you two needed to do something specific in order to please you.

•He understands if you need some kind of accommodations and will ask you what he needs to do

•You and Simon have a long discussion over what you want your first time with him to be like. He makes sure you both have a clear understanding of what's to come (ha).

Soap:

•First thing he says is “Would you like to?”

•He thinks it's a little funny but really sad too

•”Darling, you're too pretty to let subpar men just use you.”

•He immediately wants to show you how it's done and what you've been robbed off

•He asks if he can take you for a “good ol' mustache ride”

Price:

•”Young men are dumb.” He says and takes a drag from his cigar

•”But I guess it's nice to know I have no competition.” He smiles

•He does talk to you about your needs and what he needs to do to meet them properly

•He takes you out on a nice dinner date, goes on a nice walk with you, and end up with his hands wrapped around your waist taking you home

Alejandro:

•Can not stop laughing

•As soon as you tell him he erupts into a fit of giggles. He takes him a full 3 minutes before he calms down enough to hug you and pat you back.

•”You poor thing.” he chuckles and kisses your cheek. “I'll make sure to make up for all their failures, Mi querida.”

•He’ll ask you what they were doing down there the whole time. Which leads to even more laughter when you tell him.

•”But I think I should buy you a nice dinner first.” he winks

Roach:

•Stunned

•Absolutely floored

•”Like never?” He signs. You can see the horror in his eyes

•He’s got his head in hands, contemplating life. He's so concerned for you. He has to take a moment of silence to comprehend the level of incompetence the men in your life must have had.

•When he finally sits up he looks you directly in the eyes and signs “Thank God I'm good with my hands.”

Gaz:

•Slowly turns his head to look at you with his brows furrowed and confusion

•Is too shock to speak

•He gets up to pour himself some Scotch

•”How many times have you had to fake an orgasm?” “8” he proceeds to down the entire drink and pour himself another

•This time he hands it to you “You need this more than me.”

Rudy:

•He gets up and takes a lap around the house

•When he gets back he pulls you into a hug

•”You deserve so much better, Mi Tesoro.”

•Kisses your jaw and runs his hands down your back. “I can give you so much better.” He tells you in-between kisses

•He offers you himself until your properly satisfied, for however long that takes

König:

•”Why do you like incompetent men?”

•He means it in a genuine way, But he accidentally reads you to filth.

•”Why spend your time and affection on someone who cannot please you?” he asks. “I didn't want to seem shallow.” You replied. “Shallow? Liebste, No.”

•He practically scolds you for allowing such men into your life. It's actually the most you've ever heard him speak. Which really tells you how upset he is.

•”You're Lucky I'm here. I will not let such things happen ever again.”

•And fuuuck, he means it

Mace:

•”Other men are filthy animals.” he tells you like it was a normal thing to say

•He gets in close to you and rests his arms on your hips. “Don’t get me wrong, I'm a man whore.” He laughs lightly and kisses you “But you knew that.”

•He asks you for all the funny details and thinks it would make a decent bonding experience.

•He tells you about his less than great sex stories and failures

•”Rest assured sweetheart, I'm a pro at making people scream.”

Thanks for reading <3

(I realize now that I wrote them all in different mindsets of this prompt... Good luck with that, I guess)

[glassrowboat]

Curled Gloves.

Authors note: Just me trying to do a character study. Need to learn how to write for this man <(_ _)> Will probably delete later.

Oh, and for those curious, the type of welding reader is doing is called TIG

Let the puddle build and pull back, keep the nozzle in place for steady gas flow, feed the filler through your fingers with every passing second as you once again dip the rod into the bright orange and red pool the was forming under your hands. Your handiwork.

Don't weave.

Don't press down too much and accidentally increase the heat.

Keep your hands steady.

All something you've done time and time again that this action is so ingrained in your brain it has become second nature. As they say, one can never forget how to ride a bike. Welding is much the same.

So why were you struggling so much today? Well the answer was right there as you moved your foot off the pedal, looming over the work that wasn't even fully done up with a half finished bead as, through your hood, you looked up at the man who was staring you down this entire time.

Dottore. Or Prime. Or whatever you wanted to call him, really. That mask he always donned an unwelcome sight.

He always wore it around the lab, hiding his face away like it was some grand secret that only those must trusted could possibly bear witness to; yet you've seen it all the same. An accident, of course. A bad habit of yours was to forget your keys basically everywhere. Desk? Check. Lunch table? Check. The lab? An unfortunate check that meant coming face to face with a pair of red eyes glaring at you as you quickly ran out.

You never did get your keys then, having to beg the apartment management to let you in.

“You're staring.”

Dottore's head cock ever so slightly to the side as he asked “is that a problem?”

Oh how you wanted to pop his blueberry head for lingering over you for so long, much alike to when a teacher passes you by during an exam and they make a remark about the test right after staring at your paper. But, it's not like you could. Even if imagining it did help get through the work day as he flitted about. A fly you couldn't wave off buzzing in your ear.

“It is, so stop it.”

“Ordering a harbinger around won't do anything for you, welder. Remember your station as you speak to me.”

That card again. It was enough to have you placing the filler rod down to keep yourself from being tempted to jam it into his ear. Its pointed tip, from being melted down, truly was a tempting sight. And it was like he could read your thoughts, or maybe the twitch of your fingers, as he picked it up. Toying with it between his fingers.

“Your gloves are too big for you. I didn't know you felt the need to use a man’s equipment.”

Your eyes shot down to those yellow gloves, curled from both heat and lack of anything properly filling them out.

“It's all I have.”

“What of the pair you had when you first came here?”

“Caught on fire.”

Dottore's mouth opened only for him to pinch his lips closed.

“I suggest you try and tell me about a lack of equipment. I don't need your work coming out as anything less than I know you're capable of because of something easily fixed.”

Well, he did order you to ‘help’ with building the prototype to that false God project, so it does make sense he trusts what you can do. The project was a pain trying to understand his scribbled notes in the margins; the blueprint itself was readable. He deserves credit for that, at least.

And those yellow gloves, they weren't the ones you used when building the Shiki- No- That's not it. Shouki no Kami baby version.

“Fine, I need smaller gloves.”

There was no ‘now was that so hard’ like you were expecting, no snark (the younger versions of him would have), not even a curl of his lip in satisfaction of winning out this bickering tournament. Just a nod. Just a: “I'll be sure to tack them on to next week's orders.”

“Thank you.”

Plucking the filler rod from his pinched fingers you held it close to the piece you were currently working on, just about to get back to work as he started to make his way to the door. Most likely to head back to the lab proper where all the researchers keep themselves locked away with bottles of chemicals and things of the like.

“And one last thing.” The clicking of his boots stopped, no longer clicking against the tile as he stood before the door to leave. One hand pressed to the handle yet refusing to turn it. “Simply come to me if this incident occurs again. I don't need to find out days or weeks later.”

“Of course, sir.”

“In the meantime, I think it would be best for you to take something else. You can record the stock for me, or there's holes that need to be drilled in the base plate for that project Alpha was never able to finish.”

“Drilling holes with gloves too big for me? That's a good way to get them trapped in the rotary and my finger snapped like a pencil.”

You have heard occasions of it happening to others before, and oh boy, does that not sound fun. Hard pass on that one.

“I will not have you standing around doing nothing when there is work to be done. Time is a valuable asset, welder.”

The door was pushed open as he looked back at you, the faintest sound of the heating from the hallway buzzing in your ears. In here there wasn't really a need for that, not when you could prop the door open and get to work. The job warmed you up well enough.

“Just simply do without them.”

“Do without my gloves?”

That's a good way to get your hands all scratched up. Metal shavings flying in the air weren't exactly screaming ‘this is safe’ to anyone. If anything, that seemed like a great spin on a weapon, something akin to a gun just blasting out bits of sharp metal.

Best to keep that thought in your mind unless you want Dottore getting hyper fixated on something again only to forget about it in a week.

“It is within regulations.”

His boot was already crossing the threshold of the door, leaving you as you threw the gloves off to the side. Useless things they were.

‘Never thought I'd complain about going at it raw, but here we are.’

“And one last thing.”

Taking your hood off you let it fall down to the table before you with a clatter. Your hair is probably a mess, but it mattered little in a place like this when everyone else around you is covered in ash and dirt. Well, besides Dottore of course.

“Next time you come back to the lab late at night without first getting permission, I won't let you simply walk away. Remember that for the next time you leave your keys behind.”

The door closed behind him, leaving you as it suddenly fell quiet. Hum cut off mid cycle of its usual pattern.

In the end, you still wanted to pop his blueberry head, even when the proper sized gloves were there for you to use at the beginning of the next work day.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for making a joke about colors?

(This is in no way going to go the direction you think it will)

I (17F, though I was 16 during the time of this) used to have an online friend (23F) who I was really close with for about a year or two, and we'd talk and roleplay about a lot of stuff. Generally, our interests in most stuff aligned, and it was just great! I felt really happy having someone who would talk to me regularly, and there was a total lack of drama.

But the issue started when I noticed how she was lacking in responses in regards to /my/ ideas that involved /my/ characters, yet sent me really long (and, I'll be honest, stupid and ooc) plot ideas with her own characters. She never seemed to really give me any kind of reaction to my excited rambles about an idea. And I'll mention this here, I have ADHD. It's not like I was constantly spamming her, but whenever I sent ideas, she'd just be like "that's cool" or "do what you want". I really felt like she wasn't contributing to anything unless it was about HER. She'd even send completely horrible ideas like (this is just a random example of MANY things that irritated me) "what if my male human oc had a kid with your vampire oc and had to drink blood to sustain the child but refused to because he's a vegetarian?" And I was just like. Why are you so content with letting a literal baby die for the sake of oooh meat Bad™.

And after a while and a bit of arguments here and there, she also (though she claims it was unintentional) dismissed or put down my interests. We talked about ocs in love, I mentioned the Titanic dancing scene, and she immediately goes "I don't know about that, but Titanic sucked as a movie". I randomly mention that I've got back into Gravity Falls and ask her if she's seen it, and she says "No, and the only things I have was that girl being annoying." I inquire if she knows Captain Underpants, and when she says no, asks if she's interested in getting into it, to which she demands, "What is this about? Are you trying to get me to voice my issues so I can upset you and you can get mad at me?" As if the previous instances of HER putting down MY interests was ME GOADING HER INTO IT! Seriously, I can't even.

There were other issues that are equally as ridiculous and mainly involve me being just slightly childishly naive and her turning it into a Full. Blown. Fucking. Fight. And it wasn't even two-sided! I was never really ever mad. It was literally just her stupid anxiety and overthinking ruining our friendship. She often also tried to express how much she hated herself and demanded things like "am I being manipulative? Am I toxic? Does everyone hate me?" during these times, which was very frustrating, because she WAS being toxic, but due to her depressive tendencies, I couldn't even say that because she'd go off and do something dumb like harm herself. And like... I do believe people start to greatly mature in their late teens, but they ARE still teens. And I was 16. I couldn't understand why someone in their twenties was being more immature and stupid than me!

Anyway, our 2-year-long friendship slipped into the trash bag when one of our mutual friends posted "hi" and she (the Bad friend) replied "hi" with red, white, and blue hearts. Jokingly, I responded, "FRENCH HEARTS!" and she said "Dutch hearts." To which I said, "do u know how many flags r red white and blue".

She messaged another of our friends (who, may I add, is closer to ME and therefore told ME all about THIS HOE'S insane rants) and started raving in all caps about (and I directly quote) "WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE ATTITUDE?!?!" Like, are you kidding me? That's your response to a lighthearted joke? To express dramatics and claim I was being an "asshole"? After I heard she said that to our friend, I blocked her on my main, and she proceeded to block all my accounts from all her accounts. And when she dm'd another of our mutual friends asking, the mutual calmly replied that she had acted immature. And then she had the audacity to go and say "it's actually you being immature because you only listened to one side of the story !!1!1!"

Like, girl, how do you expect me to have sympathy for your "tendencies" and "fear of abandonment" when you're the one pushing people away? I once implied she ought to get diagnosed for autism, because her lack of understanding things and how to not upset people in convos was really upsetting.

Sorry if this is bad. Idk guys. AITA?

[after-witch]

Surrounded by Hunger [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: Surrounded by Hunger [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: You're an artist, with no muse. Until Mahito shows up on your back porch.

Word count: 3500ish

notes: yandere, mild body horror, reader is a trans male

“I want you to paint me,” Mahito says, with an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face. No smile, no leer today. Just a somber frown as he appears from nowhere--as he often does--and sits himself in front of you. 

The cool summer evening air would smell as clean as the breeze, but for the cigarette lazily perched in the ashtray on the edge of the porch. 

Smoking.  Your one vice. Or is it your eighth? You don’t keep much track of your vices, these days. If you did, you might actually try to quit them. But smoking is one of two current addictions that you can’t fathom letting go of right now.

The other one is sitting next to you.

"Like one of my French girls?” you murmur, lips quirking up. 

Mahito tilts his head towards you, still frowning. You wonder, idly, if he has an actual brain inside his skull. Do curses have brains? You’re not sure about the technicalities of how they function, but it’s not something you’d really like to ask Mahito, either.

But it’s like you can see his brain working from the minute movements of his body language. The body is one thing you’re usually good at reading, and you ought to be, considering your career. No one wanted paintings from someone who didn’t understand the basics of body movement.

“Ah,” he says, finally, with a small smile. “Titanic. Directed by James Cameron. 1997.” His smile gets a little perkier. On anyone else, that smile might look deranged. But it suits Mahito, you think.

“I liked the sinking part the best. The way they…” He flicks his fingers in the air, and makes an eerily accurate sound reminiscent of bodies banging against metal parts. “And the frozen baby!” He closes his eyes almost all the way, leaving just enough room for you to see his gaze slide over to you. “Humans do love representing their own misery, don’t they?”

Something squeezes in your chest. It might have been a barb about you and your work; and it might not have been. One of the trickiest things about Mahito was that you could never be sure when he was trying to hurt you, and when he wasn’t. 

The worst part was, you knew that it didn’t matter either way. It wasn’t like you’d ever ask him to leave. He knew that, too. Maybe that was the actual worst part.

He doesn’t elaborate on his statement. Instead, he leans his head back, looking at the darkening sky; the deep blue of the evening oozing away to make room for the blacker part of the night. His profile like this is fascinating--the way his hair seems to almost shimmer in the fading light, falling back against the side of his neck. 

“Well?” He asks.

You couldn’t say no. You were already imagining ways to capture him, like this. In profile, staring up at the sky with eyes that were anything but human. With a brain that was perhaps not a real brain. With a body he could change at will. 

Despite all that, here he is, sitting on your porch, breathing in your cigarette smoke and staring up at the ordinary evening sky.

What does he see that you don’t? That no human does? Why does he even come around you, when he could be off trying to--your brain fumbles for snatches of what he’s told you--battling sorcerers? 

Maybe you can capture something of the answer in your painting. 

“Okay,” you say, lightly, even though the answer is anything but. “But we have to go inside for the sketch. There’s not enough light out here this late.”

Mahito smiles. In profile, you see only the half of it, the edge of his lips curling, a glimpse of his teeth. 

You’ll be up all night sketching, trying to capture this expression. 

--

Your first finished painting of Mahito isn’t all that great. The evening skyline was done from memory because the next few days had been cloudy and they stole the sky’s normal colors away. And no amount of mixing could quite give you the right shade for his hair; you put something new on order, a type of shimmer pigment. That might help for future pieces.

The expression, though. There was something in that. Something not quite human that you managed to capture, although if you had to do it over, you’d reconsider taking your drawing from sketch to painting. The sketch had something raw to it, like Mahito might just turn his head and wink at you. 

As an artist, you knew that such a subject was rare. It was not always easy to find inspiration that kept you working almost relentlessly, eager and passionate rather than staring at an empty canvas and willing the world to send something to you.

Mahito was a gift, wasn’t he? To an artist. To someone like you, who needed something to make your work stand out. And it does, here. Mahito looks unusual--striking, beautiful, but with something unpleasant itching to get out from underneath his skin. 

But still. It’s flawed. 

And that’s not the standard artist humble-brag designed to avoid a reputation of pompous pride. Your paintings, as a whole, just aren’t good enough. 

It’s why the galleries rejected you. Why what few connections you had with other painters tended to fade away, becoming more and more untethered as they were invited to galas, as they held openings, as their works went to auction, and you…

You sat on your porch smoking and waiting, heart pacing, for a curse to show up on your door.

--

Mahito stands in front of the revealed piece, quietly observing it. His fingers reach out and skim the canvas, bumping along a few rough areas of paint. His mouth parts a few times, then closes. 

You expect him to be blunt with some kind of critique. He’s never been shy with honesty, no matter how hurtful. It was something you hated and loved all with one confusing, awful sameness.

Instead, his gaze flits over every square of the canvas enough times that sweat begins to bead down the back of your neck. Does he hate it? Is he about to tell you that you’d be better off doing something else, something more ordinary, something more mundane? 

No.

What he does is turn his head towards you, slowly, something that is not quite a smile on his face. An expression that makes you think of the back porch, sunsets and cigarette smoke. 

“Now do it again.”

--

You should hate this, really. Someone who sticks around and more or less demands that they be your muse. Most artists purge these types of people from their lives, unwanted flypaper hangers-on who pout and demand to be painted. 

But Mahito is your muse, and you don’t hate it, and you don’t think he’s clingy or desperate like others who have found themselves on your back porch before. 

He’s your muse simply because he exists. You could not fathom knowing Mahito and not committing him to the canvas. The only shock is that it was his idea, not yours; and maybe, deep down, you were too afraid to ever ask him. In case he said no.

So you draw him, and paint him. He drapes himself over your couch wearing nothing, spreads himself on your bed with winter clothes in the summer heat; perches on the end of the kitchen stool and watches gnats circle a bowl of bananas. 

The ideas are his, mostly. 

And the pieces are interesting. “Intriguing,” your regular art gallery said, when you submitted the one of Mahito sprawled out in a fuzzy scarf and hat and puffy winter coat while sweat clung to his forehead from the summer afternoon sun.

Interesting, intriguing, a striking model… and yet. They’re still not enough--not enough to get paid. Not enough to get noticed. 

Not enough to get you out of bed some days, when all you want to do is smoke lying down and hope the smoke alarm in your bedroom still has low batteries. 

This is how Mahito finds you this morning. Half-resting on sore elbows while smoke wafts up to your  ceiling, imperceptibly adding to the layers of brown and yellow build up. 

“Hey.”

He pokes your nose. You blink, slowly turn your gaze towards him. Then close your eyes and let out another puff of smoke.

“You’re being mopey,” he says, flatly. Not teasing or whining, certainly not with sympathy. Just a matter-of-fact. 

The options weigh heavy on your shoulders. It’s not like you two don’t talk about serious things. But God, with Mahito, the roles are reversed between artist and muse. You’re the clingy one, the one desperate to keep him around; afraid that the wrong word or gesture might make him blip out of your life as quickly as he came into it.

Who were you, if you didn’t have Mahito? Just another failing artist who could barely afford their cigarette addiction. 

But you trust him. Because he’s here. Because he hasn’t left yet. Because when you’re drawing him and you ask him to lift his arm up, he somehow knows the exact angle you mean, every time. So you lick your lips and look up at him with tired, reddened eyes.

“They’re not enough.” A pause. “The paintings, I mean. No one will buy them.” You drop the rest of your cigarette in the ashtray on your night stand. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

You do know, though. Your paintings aren’t interesting enough anymore. What little buzz you’d generated in your first break onto the scene from your fantastical horror work had long since faded, as had your inspiration for such pieces. 

It wasn’t enough to play with color and light, to perfectly capture the sun through an opaque curtain playing on Mahito’s hair while black flies buzzed onto overripe fruit. Of course not. People wanted more. You just weren’t more, now. If you were ever that. 

Mahito crawls onto your bed, languid; it’s not the first time he’s been so close, so intimate, but it gives you goosebumps nonetheless. He curls himself behind your back and runs a finger down your arm. 

“They like your older work,” he muses. You’ve ranted about this, and he apparently listened, which makes you feel at least a little least sour. “So why don’t you paint like that again?”

So much for feeling a little less sour. You curl inwards, eyes fixated on the dimming red glow of your cigarette in its tray. 

Mahito pokes your shoulder. Impatience. You can feel it building in him, in the way his arm muscles tense, just a little. When he gets bored, he sometimes leaves. 

You don’t want him to leave, so you force the words out, although you’d rather keep them private. Your mouth feels sticky when you talk, but you press on. 

“My old stuff was before…” You know he knows, but you’ve never pinned down a single way to explain it to him. “Before I figured myself out. Before a lot of things, I guess.” Mahito’s hand wraps itself around your stomach, and you reach out to intertwine your fingers. To keep him with you, if such a thing were possible.

“I haven’t had the same type of inspiration in a long time,” you admit. “So I don’t know how to just…” Flashes of your old canvases come to mind. Demons and ghosts and landscapes of terrible beauty. “Get back into that head space.”

There is a stretch of silence that begins to worry you. Maybe you are too boring, maybe you’re whining, maybe whatever this is has run its course and he’ll leave and you’ll have nothing to your name but this empty apartment and your empty life.

But then Mahito grips your shoulder and pushes you firmly, swiftly, onto your back. There’s a dull ache where he touches you and you stare up into his eyes, wide and bright even in the darkness. He’s grinning. He’s grinning, and it’s beautiful and ugly--

And on his side, arms sprout out; some with mouths sporting their own grins. Behind him, arms upon arms,  hands upon hands. A grotesque vision come to life in your dim apartment bedroom. You can see it now, on canvas. A creature with greedy hands outstretched to the world, taking what it wants, when it wants. 

You can see Mahito, posting, while you furiously work at the easel. You know you’ll work until your hands cramp, desperate enough to capture every microexpression in pencil before it fades. 

Mahito, the muse, painted again and again. Until your hands cramp, until your eyes are red and burning. 

“Does this inspire you?” he says, a bright giddiness in his tone fading into something lower and warmer as he leans down to capture your lips.

You’re not certain which of you tastes the most of ashes.

--

The paintings are perfectly grotesque. Inspirational. Disturbing.

“And yet,” the director continues, tapping his pen against his chin, “so life-like. You can hardly tell where the real model ends and your imagination begins.” 

Because, of course, humans cannot sprout extra limbs from their sides. Humans cannot stretch their tongues to wrap around their body like a rope. Humans cannot pull open the flesh of their stomachs to reveal what’s inside.

Not without dying, anyway. 

You’d almost asked Mahito if that was what curses looked like on the inside--if they had organs, like stomachs and lungs--but thought better of it. Knowing would be worse than pretending. 

When you pretend, you can ignore the growing sickness in your stomach as the paintings become worse--and better. As Mahito pushes you farther and farther, and you’re not sure if you want to turn back. 

When you pretend, life with Mahito doesn’t seem very fucked up at all. 

“Keep it up,” the director tells you, thumbing through the wad of ghastly cash he hands over for your latest piece. It’s enough to pay off your rent and bills and cover cigarettes and booze and some new books for Mahito, though you’re sure he just steals them when he’s not with you. 

And you do--keep it up.

Because Mahito wants to, and because despite all the disturbing dreams you begin to have after sessions of drawing and painting, your new works really are better. More visceral and alive; galleries want them. 

They want you.

You feel seen, finally, for who you are and what your hands can do--

How could you turn that away?

--

“I don’t know,” you say, slowly, watching the thing Mahito brought with him writhe on the table. 

It was soft and gelatinous, like a blob of moving goo. At first, that’s what you thought it was: something he scooped out of a container at a toy store that sold novelty slimes. 

But this wasn’t some gob of bright orange or neon blue with a telltale sticky sheen that told parents that yes, mom and dad, this was going to wind up sticking to the carpet by the end of the day.

This was light beige, with two big black spots that looked a bit like eyes. It was larger than you think a toy slime would have been and it--well it moved. Really moved. Not just from a slight breeze drifting in through the window or due to its own gelatinous nature.

It was--whatever it was--alive. 

It had eyes, and perhaps that bit of discolored beige was hair, and that was it. Two eyes, slick, shiny skin, and no mouth at all. 

“It’s a statement piece,” Mahito says simply, even happily, as he adjusts the blob to his liking on the table. He tries out a series of poses that you direct with hesitation--looking down at it with his chin resting in his elbow, holding it in his arms like some sort of stuffed bear, endless, restless poses, all punctuated by the strange writhing of the thing.

The two of you finally settle for Mahito looking one way, and the blob--were those its eyes?--face another. A contrast between colors and shapes and Mahito’s lithe form and the writhing blob. But while there is a dim satisfaction in putting Mahito onto the canvas, a sense of self-worth and pride that grows with every stroke, you put off working on the blob until the last possible minute. Your body seems to know why, even if your mind doesn’t. 

At the end of the night, you start to ask a question that’s been on your mind the entire evening--

“Mahito?” 

But when he turns, a small smile on his face, blob in hand, the words die in your throat.

You say nothing as he leaves. You work a little more on the painting, avoiding half the canvas, not wanting to think about what it was that Mahito brought and why he brought it.

That night, you dream about a garden of squirming, writhing blobs.

--

Today, Mahito has no mouth. 

And today, you’ve decided, that this will be your last Mahito piece. No more. Not a single one. The singular lack of a mouth is not even as horrific as some of the other ways Mahito has posed for you, but somehow, it’s the one that terrifies you the most. 

Mahito has no mouth, and you can’t even ask him why.

Mahito has no mouth, 

Mahito has no mouth, and he wants you to paint him.

He tells you this, in gestures. Maybe if he was over the top about it--if he was wildly waving his hands, if he made a game of it--then it wouldn’t make you feel so wrong. But he’s slow, methodical. Serious.

It makes your stomach clench on nothing but whisky and overcooked eggs. 

But you let him bring out one of your mirrors and set it up in front of a stool so you can paint him, looking at himself in the glass. There’s nothing else you can do but this, you realize; that’s what your life has come to. You are mingling with a curse and he could kill you in a moment if he wanted to--but right now, he wants you to draw him and paint him and put something monumentally distressing on the canvas. And you want to do these things--because he wants you to? Because you know the gallery owner is going to take one look at this last piece and ask you to open your own show? Love or ego or something awful and in-between?

You sketch quickly. It’s the final layers of painting that will take days, you think, if you want this to turn out right. Right now you’re worried about two things: capturing the tones while the light is just right, and how Mahito will react when you tell him you’re done after this.

It’s not like you can tell him now. He can’t even talk. 

What is it like, without a mouth? You bring cigarettes to your lips and wonder if he feels jealous of it. Would he get mad, if you told him you needed a drink? A snack? Eating and drinking--curses can do these things, and you’ve seen Mahito do them, but you don’t know how much of it is a want or a need. It’s hard enough to tell the difference with a human. 

If you had no mouth, what would you be? Your thoughts flit, briefly and then away again, to the blob. To its eyes. To the way it couldn’t stop moving and Mahito held it like a toy. 

You don’t want to think about that. 

It would feel wrong to talk while you work on this piece, you decide. Better to save it for when it’s finished. A few days, at most, with Mahito holed up in your bedroom--and no mouth at all. 

In these few days, you want to kiss him more than ever. Want to capture the memory of his lips, because surely, he’ll want to leave if you’re done painting him. Done being entertaining. 

The thought of kissing the awful, empty space where his mouth should be keeps you from even thinking about it.

--

It’s your masterpiece. You know this from the moment the last stroke is complete. You’ll never top this work, and some prideful part of you demands that you try, anyway. 

Mahito still has no mouth. Even as you pull the drape off the canvas, as he gets close to inspect it. 

“Mahito,” you say, suddenly. He doesn’t look at you. That’s better, you think. Makes it easier to stomach what will come next; the inevitable moment where Mahito drops you like an old toy. Usually it’s the other way around, an artist getting bored of its muse and flinging them aside. 

But you’re not bored of Mahito. You’re afraid of him. You want him here--but you don’t. It’s a big jumbled mess and maybe it would have been easier if he never showed up on your back porch, if you never saw him at all, if he hadn’t opened up some wound inside you that only he can stitch up. 

“Mahito,” you repeat. “I don’t think I can paint you anymore.” Stupid, weasel words. You cringe. “I mean. I don’t want to paint you anymore--after this one.”

Mahito tilts his head, and finally turns his eyes towards you--but still, there’s no mouth, no mouth, no mouth.

After a moment, you continue, mouth dry and sticking. “Did you hear me, I said I--”

Mahito’s hand slaps against your own, hushing you.

“Have you been wondering what it feels like?” It takes a few blearly, confusing moments for you to realize that Mahito is talking not with lips on his face, but on the hand that’s pressed over hours. “To be unable to speak?”

The awful thought hits you. Is your mouth even still there, under Mahito’s hand? 

Mahito leans in, and pulls his hand away. Slowly, like he’s revealing a prize .

“I want to paint you now,” he murmurs. He might even be cooing, eyes alight at what he sees as he lifts his hand. 

You want to answer him--you want to scream.

But you can’t say a word.