#wet sponge brush

[angeltism]

BACK FROM SWIMMING :3

#➳ the fool speaks #my hair is WET and TANGLED and it feels WEIRD i need 2 brush it. which should help get some of the water out bc my hair is like sponge #and brushing it should help squeeze some of the water out #i have. pretty thick hair. it's not curly or coily or anything it's wavy at best but my GOD is it thick. absorbs water. always 2% tangled #and you can never smoothly get a brush through it unless you spend an hour and 15min brushing. aaa.

[garbagequeer]

so easy to tell who’s the lesbian roommate just by looking at the shit we keep in the bathroom. chilling 

#me: 2 hair brushes sponge qtips bandaids moisturizer pads wet wipes #soap and a shampoo thats a bit expensive but makes up for it by being really good for my hair so that i dont need conditioner also #my roommates: shelves overflowing with god knows what. 5 products in the shower each #but like fr you couldnt fit a single extra thing in either of their shelves every time im in the bathroom im so intrigued like #what could so many things even be #personal

[3minsover]

modern steddie au

Pottery thrower!Steve who makes tiktoks of him making bowls and vases - he and Robin own a small company and social media is the best way to promote their products. While Robin sculpts and molds little trinkets - figurines and tchotchkes, Steve throws larger items.

They get some pretty good engagement with Robin's quirkily edited 'day in the life'-style videos and Steve's 'trust the process' content, but there's one video that sends the account rocketing into the stratosphere.

The camera is positioned at a low angle, looking over the studio. Steve enters the frame, visible only from the waist down at first with a large lump of clay in his hands. He sits down at the wheel, and that's when it's clear that beneath his overalls, he's not wearing a shirt. His shoulders are bare, tanned and kissed intermittently by moles, and the muscles beneath flex and shift underneath his skin as he lifts the clay and throws it down. Hard. The rest of the video is exactly as normal - Steve squeezing a sponge saturated with slip to wet the clay, pushing his fingers into the well in the center as he forms it into what will become a large salad bowl. Every so often, he looks up at the camera with a pleased smile, a lock of hair falling over his eyebrow. His hands are covered in slick gray, his biceps straining with the effort of precision, and there's a tiny swipe of slip drying across his forehead where he'd attempted to brush his hair aside.

Steve's best friend Eddie sees this video on his 'for you' page and is utterly overcome by the quiet strength of Steve's toned arms, the wide spread of his knees and steady workings of his hands. Confident in his anonymity - he's on his entirely anonymous private account, after all - Eddie leaves a comment on the video, detailing exactly what Eddie wishes Steve would do with his hands instead of throw clay. He hits post, scrubbing back to watch the moment Steve throws the clay down over and over again. He even saves the video to his phone - for instructive reasons, obviously. Nothing untoward, that's his best friend!

Eventually, Eddie scrolls on and for a few minutes forgets about the video. And then he remembers it again, but this time, the flush of attraction is accompanied by a creeping sense of unease that crawls across his skin. Eddie heads straight to Steve and Robin's account and taps the video. His thumb shakes a little as he opens the comments, now littered with others just as thirsty as his own - to which Steve has graciously replied turning them down - and finds that- oh fuck.

ewmunson: throw me around like that lump of clay i actually beg.

Eddie's not on his private.

He's gonna be sick.

Until he sees Steve's reply.

birdandbatpottery: Come over. Let's find out if I can?

#steddie #steddie au #steve harrington x eddie munson #fanfic #twitter crosspost #3minsover

[girlrotterr]

Ultraviolence.

farm!ellie x fem!reader TW!: references to alcohol and substance abuse, along with instances of emotional and verbal abuse. Summary: Years after returning from Seattle, you and Ellie chose to adopt a baby, hoping to rebuild your lives after the traumatic events. However, several months later, Ellie began struggling emotionally, haunted by her past, expressing her pain through cold and distant behavior. a/n: AHHH!! soo excited to finally share this!! lmk if you angels would like a pt 2!

*⁀➷read part 2!

───── ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ ─────

The silence of the house was abruptly broken by a cry that echoed through every corner. It was a sound you recognized instantly, a heart-wrenching feeling that never failed to make your chest tighten. Those cries belonged to your child. 

As you stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up, scrubbing away residues of dinner from the white porcelain plates – the very ones Ellie had lovingly chosen for you – memories flooded your mind. Each sponge stroke brought back moments shared with Ellie, her attention to detail in every aspect of your life together.

The kitchen, once a place of laughter and shared meals, now felt empty. The soft glow of the overhead light cast shadows across the room, emphasizing the solitude that enveloped you. How you longed for Ellie's presence, her warmth filling the space with love and comfort.

Yet, she wasn't physically absent.

She simply wasn't present.

"Go check on him," ellie muttered rudely, not even looking in your direction.

"Already on it," you replied, setting the plate down and drying your hands on a nearby cloth. 

Making your way upstairs, the cries of your child grew louder as you approached his door. Your heart ached as you recognized them all too well. Taking a deep breath, you knocked and opened the door.

Before you could utter a word, he began pouring out his troubles. He knew it was you even before the door opened, aware that you were the only one who came to check on him. His other mom…hadn't done so in a long time.

He was sobbing into his teddy bear, his red and puffy eyes avoiding your gaze.

"Why is my mommy like that?" he asked, tears staining his teddy bear. "Why is she not playing with me? Does she not love me anymore?"

Closing the door gently behind you, you settled on his bed. His voice choked with emotion, he questioned why his mother seemed distant.

"Oh honey, she loves you.” you tried soothing by rubbing his back, “she’s just… been busy, but soon enough, she'll play with you again, okay? I'll talk to her.." you assured, pulling him into your arms.

"Promise?" This time he raised his head to look at you with those wet eyes. You'd been playing the mother role for the past half a year now. How many times had you made that promise to him? 

"Pinky promise," you affirmed, feeling the weight of your words as you made yet another pledge to ease his worries.

"Thank you mama.."  He smiled weakly, clinging to you with a sense of reassurance. 

A voice in the background called your name – Ellie.

Abruptly, the heavy thuds of footsteps echoed up the stairs, her sharp voice vibrating through the silence of the hallway. 

"What are you doing?!" she snapped, her tone laced with irritation as she barged into the room, a cigarette dangling from her fingers.

"What the fuck are you staring at?" Ellie snarked,  her words cutting through the air. Her cold glare pierced through you. "Kid, go somewhere else."

As Ellie's coldness unfolded, you began to bite the inside of your cheek, a surge of anger towards her lack of empathy. The lack of interest she showed towards everyone's feelings aggravated you, you were growing exhausted. 

"Stop it.” you intervened, hoping to convey to Ellie the need for a gentler approach toward the child. As expected, Ellie brushed off your attempt, a complete disregard for how her words affected the child.

"I said fucking go!" Ellie yelled.

Your child, tears swelling, quickly left the room, the echoes of his sniffles fading behind him. Dammit, Ellie...

You shoot her a glare filled with frustration, immediately getting up to exit the room. However, Ellie quickly grabbed your arm, her grip tight and nails digging into your flesh, causing you to wince and forcefully move toward her.

"Where the fuck are you going?" she snarled.

"Argh- Ellie, I'm not.. dealing with you right now-" you remarked..

Ellie tugged your arm harshly, her stare growing more aggravated. The scent of cigarettes lingering, the scent so familiar that you had become numb to it. This was the only time Ellie would even attempt to touch you, always using it to assert her control. In all other instances, you existed as nothing, always unnoticed.

“You don’t get to decide that.” She released your arm, shutting the door firmly and positioning herself in front of it to ensure you couldn't leave. Taking another drag from her cigarette, she exhaled the smoke.

Maintaining your glare, you scoffed and went to open the window, refusing to let the smell of cigarettes fill your child's room. 

"What the fuckk are you doing?" Ellie asked, displaying no intention of stopping you, her annoyance being clear. She didn't bother pretending. 

“What does it fucking look like?” you snapped, not bothering to turn and face her. You hated it when she tried irritating you. 

Instead, your focus drifted toward the view outside the window. The sun was setting, painting the sky with hues of warm gold and soft pink, casting a gentle glow. The fields surrounding the farmhouse with lively flowers, their petals swaying in the evening breeze.

The farmhouse itself stood as a sturdy, its walls covered with trailing vines of ivy. In the distance, you could hear the faint sound of cows softly in the fields. 

Ellie remained silent, simply taking another prolonged drag of her cigarette. She didn't spare the time to respond to your snarky remarks.

“..he wanted to play with you today,” you mentioned, leaning your head against the window, fidgeting with the sleeves of your shirt. “He thinks you don’t love him.”

It had become routine for Ellie to try and get any information about what your kid shared. His troubles and worries seemed to be a curiosity for her. You never questioned it, always holding onto the hope that, in some part of her, she still truly cared.

"So?" she replied nonchalantly, walking over to you and flicking her cigarette out the window. "What's one of his little feelings to me? He's too attached anyway. It'd be good for him if I ignored him for a while." 

Ellie's gaze drifted toward the window, her eyes captivated by the familiar view. The  golden glow over the farmstead, a sight she had always cherished. It was one of the main reasons she had chosen this farmhouse for her family to live in. 

You gazed at Ellie, taking in her features. Her heavy bags from the countless sleepless nights on the couch, her once-soft pink lips now only meeting the cold bottles of alcohol she consumed in the dead of night.

“He’s not the only one who feels that way..” You remarked, still staring at her, hoping that her emerald eyes would meet yours.

Ellie's heart sank, a flicker of emotion appearing on her face.

"Shut up," she muttered coldly. She didn't bother turning to look at you; your words had clearly affected her. 

"I don't want to hear you talk. I'll do whatever I want. If I don't feel like playing with him, then I fucking won't."

She stormed off, and the moment of silence shattered. Her heavy footsteps descended the stairs. 

Without a moment's hesitation, you rushed out of your son's room, your only focus being to find him. You swiftly walked down the hallway, your pace quickening. Leaving him alone, particularly when upset, was something you hated. As you walked down the hallway…

There he was. 

In the bathroom, seated on the black and white tiled floor, clutching his teddy bear, with his face buried into his knees and headphones covering his ears.

He didn't want to witness his mothers arguing. He understood that whenever Ellie interrupted your time together, it signaled something bad. 

You observed him from the doorway painfully knowing that he didn't deserve this, enduring the harsh environment that the house had become. It pained your heart to see that he had developed coping mechanisms for these moments.

He glanced up at you, his eyes red from crying.

You gave him a soft smile, walking over and lifting him into your arms, gently wiping away the tears from his face. “I’m sorry honey, mommy needed to tell me something-”

“I know,” he said softly, nuzzling his face into your neck. He already knew all your apologies.

You kissed the top of his head, tenderly stroking his hair and swaying side to side. Your mind raced, searching for ways to lift his spirits and make up for Ellie's behavior.

“Hey, why don’t we-”

"Mama... I’m tired," he interrupted, his gaze staring off as if he was drifting from this moment. It wasn’t just physical fatigue; he was tired of it all, exhausted from feeling this way.

You nodded gently. “Okay, let’s head to bed then…”

You walked over to the sink, sitting him on the nearby stool where you usually did to brush his little teeth. The tap gushed water as you applied toothpaste to his green toothbrush covered in tiny dinosaurs, a choice Ellie had insisted upon a while back. You remember her begs of "pleaseee!!" throughout the shopping trip.

With the toothbrush in hand, you gently brushed his teeth, being careful not to hurt his sensitive gums.

“Okay, now you can spit.”

Ptui!

“All clean, mama!” he exclaimed excitedly, clapping his hands together and flashing you his newly cleaned smile.

You leaned down, planting a kiss on the top of his head. “Good job, honey!”

He carefully climbed down from the stool, making his way towards your bedroom. Sleeping with you always made him feel safe, and he eagerly headed for the bed, emitting little grunts of tiredness along the way.

Finally settling onto the bed, he lay down next to his teddy bear, giving it a small pat.

“Mama will join you after she’s done cleaning, okay?” you assured him, tucking him into his space-themed blanket. The blanket, a dark blue adorned with various planets and stars, was one of his favorites.

It was a gift from from grandpa Joel, who had been thrilled to learn about your and Ellie's news of starting a family. He couldn't contain his excitement, bombarding Ellie with endless parenting tips and even purchasing books on child development in preparation.

Joel never got to meet him. 

“Okay...” he said softly, turning away as you walked towards the door. You stared at his back, an ache overwhelming your thoughts, and all you could think about was saying, "I’m sorry." Though you knew you weren’t responsible for Ellie's behavior, you felt like you owed it to him.

You and Ellie were eagerly excited on the journey to adopt a child together, ready to try again. Jackson had many kids in need of a loving home. When you adopted your kid, you promised him a life filled with love and joy, but that promise crumbled far too quickly. 

You stepped out of the room and closed the door behind you.

Heading downstairs, you found Ellie sitting on the couch, smoking a joint and watching Breaking Bad, an episode she had already seen twice.

Resuming your routine, you began cleaning up the kitchen. Drying dishes, sweeping the floor, and wiping the countertops. All tasks you were now accustomed to doing alone.

 Ellie gradually stopped helping, a gradual drift. The same snarky excuses: “I’m too fucking tired” or “I have some work to finish up.” Eventually, she left you alone in the silent kitchen, where everything felt still.

“Goodnight,” you said, looking towards Ellie as you headed towards the stairs.

Silence.

Ellie remained motionless on the couch, smoking her joint and staring blankly at the TV. Her eyes were fixed on the screen, trying to detach herself from the world.

You took a deep breath, attempting to control your emotions and suppress the ache that surfaced every time she responded with silence. Placing your foot on the first step, you began to ascend the stairs.

"C'mere,” Ellie said, actually looking at you for once.

Your heart raced at her sudden attention, her piercing gaze catching you off guard. You walked over to her, standing in front of her. Up close, you couldn't ignore the mess she appeared to be. Her eyes were puffy and red, a foolish smirk plastered across her face.

“c’meree..” she said, motioning you to come closer. 

Ellie brought the joint to her lips, taking a long drag before blowing the smoke right into your face, giggling at how it was causing you to cough. 

She started laughing, “you look stupid.”

Irritated, you smacked the joint out of her hand. Causing ellie to jolt at the sudden movement. 

“Be fucking stupid and pick it up,” you snarled, glaring at her, your eyes piercing through her.

Ellie simply looked at you, no words, no movement, her gaze fixated on you. You couldn’t decipher the emotion behind her gaze there were thoughts behind those eyes, but you couldn’t recognize them.

Scoffing, you turned away, no longer wanting to be near her. Heading upstairs, you headed straight for the bathroom. Closing the door behind you, you looked at yourself in the mirror. Tears welled up, but you refused to let them fall. I need to be strong..she can’t..can’t win…

You couldn't help but feel stupid. Stupid for thinking she would offer you even a shred of affection. Her undivided attention, a drop of care.

Turning on the faucet, you splashed water on your face, feeling its cool touch soothe your heated skin. It was as if the water washed away the tension, calming your mind. Each droplet felt like a weight lifted off your shoulders, easing the ache you carried.

Taking a deep sigh, you began your nightly routine, another task you were accustomed to doing alone.

Slowly opening the door to your bedroom, you found your child fast asleep, clutching his teddy bear tightly in his arms and cocooned in his blanket. His gentle breaths filled the room with a sense of tranquility, a small smile gracing his lips as he slept peacefully.

In that moment, he appeared like a peaceful, angelic child, as if he were innocent and free from life's worries.

Closing the door behind you, you approached the bed, gently laying beside him, fingers caressing his soft hair, humming a melody –a melody Ellie used to sing to you back then. Never missing a chance to soothe you with her singing whenever you couldn’t sleep. 

He appeared so innocent, carrying that light within him. The idea of him being exposed to Ellie's behavior filled you with guilt. He was the reason you tolerated Ellie, not demanding for more.

You had an urge to fight for his safety and his right to happiness. All he deserved was love and affection, and ellie failed to provide it.

Pressing a kiss to his forehead, you closed your eyes, letting sleep envelop you as you tried to quiet the endless thoughts swirling in your mind.

Thud.

Sometime later in the night, you heard Ellie stumbling her way up the stairs. Her movements were unsteady, the effects of alcohol. It seemed like she hadn't slept at all. The only evidence of her rest was the blanket and pillow on the couch.

You heard the sound of ellie turning the doorknob and entering the room, not bothering to turn on the lights. The room filled with the sound of Ellie rummaging through drawers and opening closets. You had no idea what she was looking for, but she appeared determined to find it.

You tried to catch a glimpse of Ellie in the darkened room. Your eyes adjusted, and you could make out the outline of her figure as she searched. She stood there in a tank top and boxers, her arms revealing prominent veins, and her hair ruffled messily around her face.

“El’s?..” 

Startled, she jumped and stopped her search, clearly taken aback by the sudden sound of your voice. She turned around with a scowl, not bothering to whisper back.

“What?” she snapped, clearly annoyed.

"What're you… doing?" you asked sleepily, being awoken by her rummaging. 

"Nothing," Ellie replied with a heavy sigh "Go back to sleep."

You looked into her eyes, your eyes glistening in the gentle moonlight. 

Ellie was startled for a moment at the sight of the eyes that met her. But snapped herself back into reality.

"Don't… give me that look," she muttered before turning around and going back to rummaging through the drawers.

You gently extended your hand towards Ellie, wanting her to sleep with you. Your fingers moved slowly, reaching out for hers. 

She paused, her shoulders rising and falling as she took a sharp inhale of air. She sighed and then looked at you. She didn't pull away from your touch, her demeanor appearing softer as if she was trying to resist you.

"No," 

You stayed silent at her response, silently hoping for her to change her answer.

"I said No. Go… back to sleep." She tried to say firmly but her tone was softer now.

You turned away from Ellie, silently acknowledging her rejection. Each time your attempts were turned down, the familiar ache grew duller, as if numbed. You wrapped your arm around your child, closing your eyes in an attempt to drift back into sleep.

Your child's peaceful breathing filled the room, a comforting reminder of his presence. Though still awake, you could hear Ellie's silent breaths nearby. She lingered by the bed, her presence still even in the darkness. It felt as if she was trying to find a way to be near you without you knowing. 

You resembled an angel in the soft moonlight, your skin radiant. Ellie couldn't help but admire you, considering you the most beautiful sight she had ever seen—as if you were kissed by the moon. 

The night was warm, the gentle wind gentle and comforting. In this moment, you hoped to never wake up. 

Your soft hair laid on the pillow like soft and silky thread. Your gentle breathing was soothing. Your body looked like a painting created by heaven itself. You were its beautiful muse and the moon was the painter showing its admiration.

Ellie couldn't help but gaze at you, her eyes lingering on your lips for a moment longer than usual. She then looked down at your child, peacefully nestled with you For an instant, a longing for love stirred within her, a feeling she hadn't experienced in a very long time. It reminded her of the days when you both were deeply in love.

Your body was so peaceful, ellie found herself entranced, her eyes tracing every curve and line. Ellie felt an overwhelming desire to simply…admire you, to preserve your presence. 

Without a second thought, Ellie found herself slowly lying down beside you, her body acting with impulse. The comfort of the bed and the softness of the cotton sheets gave her a warmth that she had long forgotten.

She pressed her body as close as she could get it against yours. Her hands folded under her chin, as if she was too afraid to touch you. 

She found herself lost, aching for a connection she feared to ignite. 

#ellie angst #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie fanfic #ellie x y/n #farm ellie #ellie fanfiction

[leviathanspain]

hiii can i request an anthony or benedict x reader or shot where the reader sprains her ankle on a walk/at a ball and anthony or benedict takes care of her? and maybe they are betrothed but not married yet? thank youuu x

patience is a virtue

benedict bridgerton x reader

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

your scream shook the birds free from the trees above. you had fallen, knees buckling under you as your skirts went flying.

you withheld the urge to curse and instead let out a series of groans, trying to prop yourself up, but you could hardly move.

“miss l/n!” a familiar voice shouted your name, and you turned slightly and saw the viscount rushing over to help you. he knelt down next to you and assed you, his rough hands hovering just over you.

you grabbed your head, and held out a hand to him, “im alright. just had a fall.” you tried to hide the quiver of pain in your voice and put on a weak smile. anthony took your hand and lifted you up.

you blushed, and brushed down your dress, “i-“ anthony pulled the fabric forward and sighed, “a bit of mud got on you. my sisters might have a spare dress-“

you looked around, looking at the large home of the bridgertons and wondered why you didn’t think to bring any extra dresses.

you inhaled sharply, “no, no it’s alright. i must retire to bed now, i am a little tired from,” you looked down at the wet grass and laughed, “this.”

benedict could see you and his brother talking as he neared the doors outside. he had been called away by his mother, promising you that he’d return quickly, it seemed that you were upset, by the red shade of your face.

benedict rushed over, nearly toppling colin as he ran past him. “darling-“ benedict had made the habit of calling you every pet name under the sun since your betrothal. benedict looked at his brother, a jealous look in his eyes as he took note of his hand on your dress.

anthony quickly pulled away and even stepped back a little, “brother- miss l/n had a bad fall. i suggest you take her inside, have one of the staff look at her for any injuries.”

you smiled awkwardly, having benedict in front of you, no doubt looking a mess from your fall, made you want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

why would he have chosen such a clumsy girl for a wife?

“no, i’m fine. i promise.” you grabbed benedict’s arm, intimate in the gesture, and reassuring. he grounded you, and the panic you felt on the rise was now long forgotten.

anthony was looking away, partly hoping to see another sibling that he could excuse himself off to.

but benedict did it for him. he didn’t break eye contact with you as he spoke to his brother, “brother, i heard gregory was looking for you. perhaps you should find him?”

anthony smiled, “perhaps i should.” he wanted to laugh, but only a chuckle escaped as he excused himself from the both of you.

aubrey hall was beautiful, but nothing compared to the beauty that was benedict bridgerton.

and yet here was the beauty himself, sleeves rolled up and a sponge in his hand as he scrubbed the mud from your arms. nothing too serious, as married couples did, benedict had made you sit in the bathroom, still in the muddy dress, as he grabbed a bucket and began to clean off the mud.

silence was comforting between you two, and when he had gotten your hand clean, you had ran it through his hair, earning a kiss on your nose from him.

“i don’t think i can wait to marry you much longer, mr. bridgerton.” you muttered, enamored with the way he looked, handsome as ever with his hands gently on your skin.

“a day isn’t much longer. patience is a virtue.” he smirked, and you rolled your eyes, “keep scrubbing.”

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton #benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton angst #bridgerton #bridgerton angst #bridgerton smut #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader

[johnpriceslamb]

hey! i really love ur writing! are your requests open?? if they are would you maybe write another arthur x reader fic? maybe something with arthur introducing his new girlfriend to the gang for the first time? thank uuu!!😊

𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓪𝓲𝓻𝔂 ,

❥ ˚₊‧ swishswishswish prattles the pink-tinted brush within your nimble hold. Each delicate tap against the swell of your soft cheeks swell even more with colour, adorning a scent you were far too familiar with— cherry-kissed by love herself. ˚₊‧

𝓑𝓔𝓕𝓞𝓡𝓔 𝓨𝓞𝓤 𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓒𝓔𝓔𝓓 ! ꒰ ❥ hyper-feminine ! reader ❥ female ! reader ❥ reader is mentioned to be physically shorter than characters mentioned below ❥ lovesick Arthur Morgan ❥ super-shy reader ❥ rugged cowboy bf x mini baker gf ❥ fluff ❥ Age gap implied ❥ 7k words ꒱

❥ arthur morgan x female! reader

꒰🍰꒱ “SWEET GATEAU” Written in all bold, the colour pink, carved in cursive. The board swings heavily amidst the top of the pole that sticks out to show off the demure place.

That was the name of your workplace. Located in the most populated city in the state of Lemoyne, Saint Denis. It was an obvious spot for cakes and pastries, considering that the literal meaning of ‘Gateau’ was cake in French. It stands out from most buildings surrounding it as do the connected shops beside it- large windows to display the sweet delicacies of riches on little shelves for those to glance at when passing by.

More-so.. advertising then teasing, you'd say.

The comforting, delicious fragrance of vanilla extract fills the air. You have yet to work on other requests commissioned by customers, though you focus solely on this particular order. Mainly because it was the easiest and much quicker to prepare.

A simple sponge plain cake with vanilla icing. Couldn’t be too hard.

You’re quite tempted to take a little swipe of the wet cream and taste it yourself- fortunately your temptations resist yet again because of repetition and practice. tiktiktik does the whisk in your hand go as it constantly scrapes against the bowl, the mixture hardens and becomes more of a fluffy-like texture rather than a wet clump of nice smelling liquid.

The comforting sound of the fire crackles with faint embers floating amongst the brick-encased oven. Inside the oven lay two lovely little flat cakes. Just exactly twenty minutes ago you’ve bestowed them upon a wooden flat board to dish out near the heat to harden up.

“Ten more minutes..” You mumble to yourself. Enough time to finish whisking the vanilla icing and pour into a pipe-bag.

You admire the prettiness of the sweet-tasting icing which was coated inside the surface of the bowl, before glancing at the paper-filled request again to make sure that you’ve been following the guide correctly. Thankfully enough, the woman who requested the small two layered cake wrote it on a piece of paper rather than verbally out loud. Her hand-writing was lovely, and so was she. At the end of the piece of paper, her signature was written out—

‘Mary-Beth. :-). Please do not forget the cherry on top !!!!’

You can’t help but giggle softly at the absurd amount of exclamation marks she wrote down. She was quite bubbly, and that lady was- very excited. From the looks of her- you were just at least a year or so younger than her. You remember she adorned a long skirt, dark pink in colour.. with her hair in a half down half updo. Freckles prettily placed on her skin. You recall stating to come pick up her order at around 8 in the morning tomorrow. The clock strikes 6 A.M. Two more hours until she can pick up her cake!

Long, dewy lashes tinker at the sound of the bells at the door jingling as a person enters. You were quick on your feet, miniature ribbon-tipped slippers softly tapping on the ceramic floor of this building, curiously peeking your dainty head from the corner. Another rich man seemed to peer around curiously at all the pastries and such inside, pondering if he should buy a few sweets. You weren’t one to really socialise, neither was he- from the looks of it. You could only offer the sweetest smile you could etch onto your face and shyly nod as he turned to you to acknowledge you, before returning back to the kitchen hidden from customers to work on the cake.

He could just ring the bell on the front counter to get your attention.

It was common for people to enter the little bakery, though at around 10-2 is when chatter becomes louder and you become more frantic.

And with that- ten minutes has passed. You clumsily get the cakes out of the oven and place it on the kitchenette's bench. Hot and rough-looking around the edges.. You could probably cover it up with the icing.

Before you do, you cover the first layer with the fluffy icing, before plopping the second layers on. This job was very therapeutic, you considered.

Droop does the vanilla sweetening go as you drown the plain cake with the sweet icing. Delicate swipes of a butter knife allowing it to smoothen amongst the hardened surface of the spongy delicacy. Plop! One little swirl of icing on top. And another.. and another.. Until it surrounds the whole edge of the cake. Oh, don’t forget! One big swirl in the middle of the cake, where the cherry shall be placed upon.

You can’t help but decorate the sides with little frosted hearts, the piping bag in your hand ever so sturdy as it squeezes most of the remaining out and onto the lovely decorated cake.

Was the decoration necessary? No, not really. But did it make you feel bubbly? Yes.

Ding!

You hear the sound of the silver bell reverberating against the metal itself just a few times from outside the kitchenette. You blink a few times, before toddling out and back at the counter. Seemed like the man from earlier had already decided on what to buy.

The sound of your meek, tiny voice can be heard echoing about and bouncing back to you. It was rather empty, considering that it was 6 in the morning-

“Welcome to Sweet Gateau! Where all your tastebuds experience sweet wonder and satisfaction. How may I help you?” Recitation of the same line allows you to memorise the whole thing completely. Sometimes you do change it up a bit just to have a bit of fun.

The man blinks at you.

He looks around before narrowing his eyes at you, sizing you up- albeit.. confused.

You want to ask what's wrong, did he perhaps get the shops wrong?

Perhaps it was his old eyes, or the way he perceived people by appearance. Maybe the tuft of pink on your uniform, or maybe the way you style your hair with ribbons and such. But looking at you, you looked as if you were just a..

“...Does this business support child labour?”

You stammer.

꒰🍰꒱ You are not one to argue with customers. Or argue at all.

But you’ve had to greatly convince the man that this place does not in fact, recruit people under the age of fourteen to work. He stumbles over his words as he realises that you were not actually in early adolescence, and to affirm his apology, he tips you a dollar. The wooden door which was pulled back allows the sweet little bells hung on top to jingle gently yet again as you see his retreating form with the paper bag of biscuits and sugary delicacies.

You smile happily. Another customer satisfied! though.. confused.

The clock strikes 7. One more hour until the lady can pick up her cake.

With a hum that sounded more like a serenade, you pack the cake into a small frilly-looking box, a sort of see-through material shaped in an oval which was built inside the frail box to allow the person to see the decorated cakes. Your beady eyes shimmer at the leftover frosting inside the piping bag.. maybe you could just have a little..

Your temptations are yet again disrupted by a flood of customers coming in. It was a Saturday, of course people were shopping at early dawn. The small crowd amidst the bakery mainly consisted of young ladies in friend groups admiring the pretty delicacies around, rich elderly retrospectively adorning the sweets from their childhood.

A squeak and a babble of incoherence once many line up, you're quick on your tippy toes to heat a tea-pot up with water near the brick-encased oven and organise many distributions of loose tea leaves.

Sometimes, you wonder if people did genuinely acknowledge their health since eating cakes and biscuits and other sweet stuff in the early morning wasn't really considered the healthiest breakfasts. Though, at least you earned a fair paycheck at the end.

A pretty smile feigned on your face until your apple-blossomed cheeks strained, as you recited the line over and over again to many customers who pointed at the delicacies they wanted to buy and eat. The fragrance of chocolate, vanilla, red velvet, it swirls into one and becomes a potent scent which drives more and more to eat up. You can’t help the giddy smile and the apple-blossom swelling with colour on your cheeks as you shyly peer at everyone who eats the pastry with delight. You’ve baked a few of the treats that linger in the bakery, and the soft moan at the end of the bite which signifies great pleasure in eating your own baked sweets allows your tummy to flutter with butterflies.

The tip jar starts to slowly fill every ten minutes. Quarters shine and tinker within the glass container, bidding every donation with a pleased 'thank you!' and a little wink. 

It’s been an hour or so. Mary-Beth has yet to pick up her cake. 

As if on cue, the bells attached on-top of the door chimes, producing the same little melodic drag. You look up to see the lady you were thinking about! Mary-Beth, if you recall correctly. You wave at her with a happy smile, and she reciprocates with a big grin obviously excited to see the order. From behind her slightly taller figure in comparison to you was followed by three more ladies, admiring the shop with a soft coo and a gasp.

“I told y'all this bakery was cute!” Said-woman falls with a bemused smile on her face.

“Twenty-five cents for a whole brownie! What a catch,” One nudges another.

“It has caramel in it!! C’mon Abigail, we oughta!” The lady with blonde hair almost whines, “It’ll be a good surprise for lil’ Jack!”

“Mh, I don’t know Karen..”

Mary-Beth eagerly comes to the counter, her dark rosetta coloured skirt swishing around as she does. “Hello, miss [name]!”

You smile in return, wiping your powered-up hands on your frilly light-pink apron, “Hi, Miss Gaskill. Your vanilla glazed cake is done. Are you here to eat in or to take out?” As nimble as you were, you can’t help but be comforted by the lady’s presence. A sunshine amongst a field of closed sun-flowers.

She almost seemed surprised at your words. Perhaps the usual shops that she went in did not offer such things. She ponders, before calling out to the three women who still stare at all the sweets on display, arguing with each other whether or not they should buy a few sweets, “Would you all mind quieting down!?” 

You can’t help but softly giggle under your breath.

You patiently wait for Mary’s answer, that small grin still plastered on your face.

“Hm..” She hums, “Do you perhaps have spare plates and serviettes..?” She meekly asks.

“Of course!” You nod sweetly, “Give me a moment to prepare a table would you?” “Oh! Okay,” She beams. 

As you pass by, all of the girl’s bid you a “hi!”, “lovely place!”  “hello!” You respond to them with a wave and a smile.

“She’s very pretty,” The black-haired girl whispers to Mary-Beth. She nods immediately at her response.

“She really is,” She agrees, “So lovely too! I think she's got to be the nicest girl I've ever met in Saint Denis.”

As the chatter in the bakery by other folks becomes a tad bit louder, you're too busy preparing four serviette-adorned plates. You nod to the lady waiting, she bickers with the others and allows them to toddle on over and take a seat. The legs of the chair scrape at the floorings below, some are mindful about the fact and instead of dragging it, they slightly elevate it to eliminate the scratchings.

“Oh! Right, would you like me to cut the cake?” You graciously ask.

She smiles and politely nods, “Yes please!” 

Their prattling drowns out in silence as you waddle away back in the kitchenette to cut the cake.

Mary-Beth smiles at the other girls.

“So? How do y’all like it here?”

“It’s real fancy in here,” Abigail responds calmly, “Real pretty, though.”

“Mhm. Anywho.. How much did you pay for the cake?” Her blonde haired friend asks. She fiddles with the napkin on the plate, before placing it beside the food holder. She inhales the scent of the bakery, sighing sweetly.

She sheepishly grins, “Err.. five dollar.”

“I— Mary-Beth! My goodness..”

“Tilly, I promise you. It’s gon’ be real good!” She nudges the girl in the yellow dress.

"I better see miracles happening once I take a bite out of the cake," Karen- the blonde haired woman scoffs, allowing herself to get comfortable in the chairs. The two women beside her softly giggle at her bluntness.

The bold, sweet odour of the sugary vanilla glacé hits their nose, arriving with a slight wiggle inside the box as you carefully place it in the middle. Mary-Beth was the first to gently take the lid off, she gasped at the small decorations at the side. Little piped hearts.. "My, oh my.."

"Now, ain’t that just the cutest little thing i’ve ever seen?" Tilly coos.

You do a little curtsey, tipped with a sugary smile and doll your wispy lashes. "Enjoy, ladies!"

"Ah ah, wait a moment now- hold on!" Mary-Beth frantically stammers and tries to get your attention with a squeak once your small back is turned to them. It does, fortunately.

You turn back around, curious. Your head is slightly tilted to embody your confusion, beady eyes staring at the ladies whom seem to also want to keep you back here.

"I've seen you runnin' all about and uhm.. Do you ever take breaks, miss?" She curiously asks.

You blink. Was she offering..?

"I do," You respond truthfully, albeit shyly.

She sheepishly smiles, "Would you perhaps.. Like to enjoy this with us?"

You stammer, "I-I uhm, I'm not sure about that-"

The woman in blonde cuts you off, "Awh, c'mooon! C'mere and sit, girl. You need a damn break."

You hesitate again. "No, really-"

"Ahh, give us a break- c'mere now!" She cuts you off easily. The one whom insisted on you sitting down with them grabs a chair from an empty table, before easily plopping you down.

"What's yer name, lil' lady?" She asks with a smile.

You grin with a docile muse, saying hi to the other girls, "It's [name]."

"Ooh! Purdy name for an even purdier girl." She cheekily pats your pixie-like shoulder. Your cheeks pop with colour at her low-toned flirting

"I'm Karen, that's Tilly, Abigail, and of course, Mary-Beth. A pleasure to meet your acquaintance, little miss [name].”

Another girl pipes up, “Do you work here all alone, [name]?” Tilly— the one with the pretty yellow sundress asks with interest. She admires the interior of the building, how the edges of the roof had little floral pastry designs, on-going around the whole building and to the hidden kitchenette behind.

“Mhm!” You nod. Abigail raises her brows up, leaning slightly on the table. She has the mother-like aura which makes you feel ever-so giddy. She’s hushed in her tone, worried that she might make a scene if she spoke too loud, “Excuse me for intrudin’ but.. Ain't you a little… too young to be running this store all by yourself?”

“Ah!” Your cheeks become darker in hue. “I’m of legal age to work, miss. It’s just the frills ‘n the bows.”

Tilly was the first to serve herself a slice. She takes a small bite from the sweet delicacy, icing oozing out inside as she lets out a delightful hum. She finishes chewing it, before her eyes twinkle and she turns to you, “My goodness! And you baked this all by yourself?”

“Uhuh, I’m so glad you like it.” You clasp your hands together happily. Mary-Beth is eager to get a slice, then Abigail, then Karen.

“Okay, maybe the dollar was kind of worth it for this cake..” Karen mumbles quietly, poking her fork at the sweet cake.

Mary-Beth cheekily nudges Tilly’s shoulder, “Seeee? I knew you’d like it.”

You look around, noting yourself that you should give them something to drink to drown that sucrose-filled treat. You excused yourself from the table, the little frills etched on the back of your small skirt bobbling about like a tiny princess toddling about. You’re quick to bringing a teapot over, with a few porcelain-like cups stacked on top as you gently place it on the table.

“Wait- er.. Does the tea cost extra?” Mary-Beth asks, raising a finger before lowering it down as it catches your attention.

You raise a brow, “It’s free.”

“I could quite literally kiss you right now,” She beams, allowing you to pour the hot tea in the cups which were given out to the women around.

The overall vibe amongst the interior was pleasant. The small, gossamer-bunched bonnet on your head tilts a bit as you lean down to tip the fragile teapot.

As you carefully pour the hot liquid, you hear them conversing with each other as usual. Though you tend to take a blind eye- or ear in this case, you can’t help but be a tad bit curious to their little gossip.

“D’you reckon we should’ve invited Molly over?” Abigail asks.

“Oh- Maybe. I feel like she'll like it here, but I also have this feeling she’ll just fan herself away and give us nasty looks the whole time.” Tilly mumbles, delicately cooing out a 'thank you' as you poured a cup of tea for her. The tea swishes and sloshes against the cup as she drinks from it with her pinkie out.

Karen snorts, "You're so right. Just one touch from Dutch, and she's ready to take over the world. Miss primp and polish she is till' mister Dutchie doesn't give her a lick of affection."

Mary-Beth gasps softly, "Karen!" She calls her name as if to scold her, only for a small chuckle to follow after.

Your curiosity is visible, but you don't say anything. You're one to entertain gossip, but you aren't one to prod- considering that you've only met these lovely ladies.

They finished the small cake in another hour. Currently, you were situated behind the mini counter serving a few customers amongst the treats they wanted to buy.

"Ah, that was real good." Abigail wipes her mouth with the napkin provided, in a more rushed sense- an underlying feeling that she wasn’t so used to these kinds of etiquette.

"Maybe we should buy sumthing! We ain't gonna visit 'Denis for a while unless if we like- beg Arthur or sumn' to come wit', so I reckon we should give ourselves a little treat after all the things we've been through."

"We should buy them caramel brownies.."

"C'mon, c'mon! Lets get it then," Karen ushers Tilly and Abigail out of their seats once they've finished up, Mary-Beth following after with a giggle.

"[name]! These brownies cost twenty-five cents a bar don't they?" Mary-Beth calls out, pointing at the display at the front. Oozing with caramel delight, encased with a delicious chocolate coating which makes her swoon at the beautiful sight.

"It does, yes." You nod with a shy smile.

"Goodness, [name]. These prices are kinda high.. Reckon' you can give us a lil'.. discount? Y'know! Since we're friends!" Karen winks.

You shyly ponder, "Mhh.. Alright, why not?" As said before, you weren't really one to argue. Besides, they were sweet girls.

"Woo-hoo!" They cheer with a giggle, before eagerly grabbing the little tong at the side to grab a slice.

"A bar of brownie.. 20 cents." You bargain.

Karen shrugs, "Good enough." And she hands you the coins.

You hear them all bidding you a good-bye, and a cheeky "Expect to see me here again!!"

The door closes, and you're left with the constant conversations on-going. You stare at the shining coins placed in your hands, and can’t help the pleasurable feeling of gentle-tipped joy flood your tummy.

꒰🍰꒱ Morning dawn comes.

Another day at the bakery.

You rise slowly from your beauty sleep. The silky gossamer curtains flow slightly from the wind, as the sun shines pink and yellow lights from the half open windows of your room. The wood creeks beneath your light footsteps as you grumble on to get ready for the morning.

Lazy pats of coloured light pink powder is gently flushed against your cheeks, the small ribbon-tipped brush rattles because of the amount of use it's been through. Your hair is done prettily, silky bows attached to the side which matches the coloured powder you put on your dewy face. It takes you a tad longer to arrange your morning routine into a real situation, until you're out of the door and walking on the path to the bakery.

Pushing past the entrance, you hear those bells chime a little ballad that was always memorable and will never be forgotten.

Though it may be a nuisance to look at the same things constantly, you are always reminded that this place was a safe-zone for anyone or anything. Mainly because at the entrance hangs a low sign on the door handle that entrees prohibit the use of weapons and must take it off before entering the store.

Suddenly, your thoughts are interrupted as the entrance opens to the same women from yesterday. Though, two older men are accompanying them from behind, albeit.. begrudgingly.

"-I don't think this store is the right thing f' me.." He grumbles, you can see from behind the counter that Abigail was holding his hand, perhaps her lover. She glares and hisses at him, pinching his arm. "Quiet, you."

"Y'sure this place sells them biscuits I like?" The one in dirty blonde seemed low-key embarrassed to be in here, scratching at his head as he looks around. His hat is tilted to obscure his eye-sight. Your curious eyes widen a bit as his own stares at yours. You quickly avert your eyes with a soft blush etched on your cheeks.

"They sell all kinds of sweets 'n' delicates," Tilly pipes up, slightly hitching her long skirt up with her thumb and index finger. Shoes clack gently against the floral-designed tiles, eyes wandering around the familiar place. "I'm sure you'll find those dumb biscuits you keep talkin' about!"

"[name]!!" Mary-Beth was the first to run to the counter with a giddy smile, "Told ya I'd be coming back."

You have a small smile on your face, "Welcome back, miss Gaskill!" You do a tiny curtsey with your frill-bunched apron and skirt.

She giggles, "Goodness, [name]. You are too cute for your own good."

She perks up, "Ah! We brought a few friends over. This here's John," She points to the man who grumbled a 'hi', crossing his arms. He clearly does not want to be here. The woman who clings onto his arms scolds him quietly for being so ‘impolite’. You hide your lips behind your hand to stifle your soft giggle.

“That’s Arthur.” Mary-Beth points to the man who looks at the biscuits section. Topped with a black shirt and a vest which had a unique design, he seemed.. very determined to find those biscuits he mentioned earlier when entering the bakery. He looks around curiously, the little flower-y paint-job is something he expected for a small little bakery like this one here.

He’s holding onto his belt whilst striding to the counter lazily, before curiously looking at you. Cold, dark eyes peer at you like a lone wolf about to catch it’s prey for lunch. You meekly shrink just a bit as you feel him size you up with his daring gaze.

“Howdy, miss.” He greets casually.

You slowly nod, very shy with your greeting. Your quiet voice echoes loudly in his ears. He unconsciously has to lean just a bit to even hear you. “Hello, welcome to sweet Gateau..” A smile forms on your face as you see his brows relaxing slightly at your harmless form. Suddenly, he’s as bashful as a kid being told off for causing a ruckus. He looks around with a narrowed gaze, before looking back at you. A soft grunt escapes his lips.

“..Do ya’ll make uh.. Osborne biscuits?” He asks in a low tone.

You brighten up.

“Oh! Yes we do. Would you like a bag?” You ask with that same pixie-like smile which makes him soften up even more. Something.. catches his eye. He’s not sure what though.

“Ah, um.. Yes please, miss.” He tilts his head to obscure his eyes from your view.

You mumble a little ‘excuse me,’ to push yourself off your shoes to retrieve his request. He watches the way your fluffy-frilled skirt bobbles up and down.

Very.. cute.

A tap to his shoulder, and a soft snicker catches his attention. He turns around.

“Whuh.. What?” Arthur blinks at the three ladies who stare at him with a big grin. He was stunned at the abnormal behaviour they were currently showing off.

“Yer cheeks are real red.” Mary-Beth comments. Tilly has to hide her soft chuckle with her hand the corner of her eyes becoming alike of a crows feet to acknowledge her amusement.

“They are?” He quirks a brow, crossing his arms. Though imposing, he’s as docile as a lamb when it comes to the ladies, “Yer jokin’ with me.”

“Are not!” Karen laughs, “Don’t tell me you like her already. Ya’ll only just met!”

Arthur looks defensive, he narrows his eyes at the women in-front of him. “The hell you talkin’ bout?” He rests on the soles of his feet, nervously looking around. Anywhere but in their eyes.

“It’s as plain as daylight, cowpoke. No shame in hidin’ it, she’s real cute.”

Unaware of their conversations lingering in the background, you come back with the bag of Osborne biscuits. located within a transparent plastic bag and secured with a ribbon. A sticker in the middle with the bakery's emblem on it It rests delicately in your palm as you blithely toddle up front. The chatting suddenly ceases when you return.

“Apologies for taking a while,” You apologise sweetly, placing the biscuits on the counter. He brightens up entirely at the cute packaging of the biscuits he was craving for for so long.

“Don’t sweat it,” He opens the satchel hanging over his shoulder, “How much?”

“Fifty cents for a bag.” You watch him throw a few coins onto the counter. You smile sweetly, counting the coins before placing them inside the cash register. The swelling of your cheeks become just a tad bit more prominent as his fingers linger on yours to grab the bag out of your hand once you push it lightly in his direction.

You do a tiny curtsy. So much alike of a princess who expresses their gratitude to a king. “Thank you for ordering!”

He could only nod, scratching at his stubble as he awkwardly looked away. “Yeah. Uh.. No problem.”

“Do we really needa be feedin’ Jack all this? He’s gon’ be diabetic once he grows up if we keep feeding him this stuff..” John and Abigail bicker in the background which catches both of your attention. You can’t help the amused smile on your face at his comment. Though he was trying to be quiet, these walls echoed right back at you.

“Are.. They always like this?” You can’t help but question the sweet- or.. something couple from the back. It was cute in your eyes. Arthur can’t help the grin forming on his face.

“Their way of showing love I guess,” He leans on the counter with the biscuits in his hand. Then, he slowly turns his head to you, “Er.. What’s yer name?”

“[name],” You squeak in response to the handsome man.

He blinks. Without hesitation, he says with a soft hum— “Purdy name.”

Your cheeks become the same pigment of powder you apply on your temples. You look down at the ground, your hands behind your back as you can’t help the giddy smile on your face, “Thank you..”

Arthur is curious to learn more. He's fascinated by the personality you portray. With a pixie-like physique and a timid mindset akin to a doe, a stark contrast to his.

“How uh.. How long have you been workin’ here? In sweet..” He pauses awkwardly, trying to think of a way to say the final word in a mumble without looking or sounding ignorant.

“Gateau,” You finish his sentence for him with a light smile. He’s thankful that he didn’t hear a soft giggle at the end. Perhaps you were trying to save him from looking pitiful. Or maybe you were really just a decent-hearted girlie.

You do not notice the way the other ladies looked back at you and Arthur with a cheeky smile.

“Ah, yeah. Sweet Gateau,” He clears his throat with an oafish, low beam.

You can’t really remember the exact date you started working in this petite patisserie, but you give him a rough estimation of when you started. He nods with an interested hum, seemingly curious about your story. He didn’t seem like a man who would indulge in small-chat. But for you, he did.

“We’re leavin’, Arthur! We all got what we wanted!” One of the women calls out to him, causing him to be startled at the abrupt calling.

He clears his throat shyly again. “Ah.. Um.. I should get goin’. Only came here to see if ya’ll had ‘em in stock. Glad you guys did.” His words were nothing but gentle- waving even. As if Arthur didn’t want to leave just yet. You nod kindly, letting a tiny blossom of adoration to slowly develop inside your tummy. 

“Come back next time,” You faintly add, shyly waving at him with a sweet beam. 

He has a low smile, “Oh, I will.”

Your heart stammers a bit.

The door closes. The sound of multiple footsteps creaking amongst wooden floorboards is heard.

John’s looks at the cowpoke who strides next to him. He’s careful not linger near the dirt-path, noting to himself to not get his boots so dirty. A nudge to his arm is what gets Arthur away from his thoughts.

“What the hell was that?”

Arthur glowers. “What’s what?”

“Don’t play dumb, cowpoke. Saw how you looked at ‘er.”

“I don’t know what yer’ talkin’ about.”

The conversation ends there. Either John was becoming frustrated with his ignorance his words were stuck in his throat, or he gave up entirely to persuade the man’s attraction to the girl behind those doors.

꒰🍰꒱ To your utmost surprise, Arthur Morgan slowly yet surely becomes a common face within Sweet Gateau.

It’s not to say he was unwelcome in the premises, rather more.. how should you say this, amusing to say the least.

A man who stands firm and tall at a whopping 6’4 in height, who carries a gun at his side with a rifle almost as big as you- with a sharp gaze that could pierce your heart as quick as a glance in your direction, stands in a small bakery with light pink fairy-like cakes and floral themed walls. Perched up on a table with his little snack whilst scribbling down things on that journal he always took. You wonder what he writes about.

With his constant visits, it’s clear that you’ve down packed his order to your brain.

Osborne biscuits with a small cup of coffee.

You wonder if that man likes to torture himself with such blandness. No sugar, no milk, just coffee. It’s as bitter as it can be- if you can smell that bittersweet scent from just a few centimetres away.

Sometimes he would come up to you for a small chat to probably make you feel less lonely as you sweep away at a dusty corner for a few minutes straight. Other times he would just mind his own business, munching away on those plain biscuits he always orders.

It’s been a few weeks since seeing the other girls. Sometimes you ask Arthur to say hi to them for you, and he always comes back with a lazy grin saying that they miss you and hope you’re doing well despite only knowing each other for a few days.

The bell rings up front.

You know it’s him from the way he slowly strides to the counter, a quiet grunt escaping his lips as a faint jingle of spurs become evident the more he walks closely.

You truly cannot help the blossoming smile which etches on your face.

“Good afternoon, Mister Morgan. Welcome to sweet Gateau,” You welcome him with a slight lean on the counter. You can’t help that cheeky expression, “The usual?”

“Y’know me.” He nods at your words, “The usual, please.” Baritone and deep, his voice was. It almost sends a shiver down your spine.

You watch him turn his back to go sit at one of the more secluded spots in the bakery, deep into a corner. A diary in hand, with a pencil busily being worn down on the papers. The sounds of led scratching at the fibres of the white expansion of pages is heard easily from afar. It’s calming to say the least.

You’re quick with the order, almost giddy as you place the plate of those plain biscuits on his table with his bitter coffee. He gives you a small ‘thank ya’ kindly.’ before returning back to his sketching on something.

In just under twenty minutes will the bakery close. It’s quiet, with only a few people including Arthur relaxing in the wooden chairs placed within the interior.

You’re busy within the kitchenette, allowing the brick-encased oven to be put out completely. Washing up all the equipment you’ve used to make and create such food, soapy bubbles floating everywhere. The sounds of the door opening and closing is heard, many of the customers served leaving with a small tip inside that jar of yours up front.

Slowly yet surely, you wipe down the benches of the kitchenette before putting the rag back down. You walk up to the counter with a soft yawn from the tiring day.

A soft clearing of a throat catches your attention. You blink a few times and see Arthur.

“Oh! I thought you would’ve left a while ago,” You smile. Though you’re not very keen on customers staying five minutes before closing time, you’ll be very glad to make an exception for Arthur.

“Sorry, uh..” He awkwardly scratches at the back of his head, “Reckoned It’d be better to give this to you in private.”

You tilt your head sweetly, almost puppy-like. His heart squeezes at the simple yet innocent gesture. What was he giving you?

With that, he hands you a piece of paper, folded in half just once with a small heart at the corner. Your eyes light up immediately, as you shyly take the piece of paper- one which was from his diary he probably torn off, considering that one edge of the paper was bumpy and rough.

You mumble out a shy ‘thank you’, very curious and opening it with one simple hand gesture.

You feel like the luckiest girl alive.

A pretty led-based sketch of you. You were drawn with your usual frilly outfit on, the bakery drawn in the background. He drew every single detail on your face so accurately, it sort of amazes you. The small beauty mark was in the correct spot, with your eyes big and sparkly.

You softly gasp, putting a small hand over your mouth to not look like a dummy in front of him, “Arthur..”

“It ain’t the best but..” He averts his gaze, “I couldn’t help but draw ya. You just looked..” Pretty. Beautiful. Adorable. Cute. “—..Lovely.”

“Ain’t the best?” You scoff. “This is so beautiful, Arthur. Y—You got the bow, too! And the outfit, and the background..” You beam sweetly.

“Thank you so much,” You keep the drawing close to your chest. You note to yourself mentally to buy a picture frame, “This is so beautiful, Arthur. I love it!”

He holds his gaze low, cheeks slowly burning from the praise you squeaked out. He awkwardly shifts, before bidding you a goodbye.

You open the piece of paper one last time, flipping it over to see a message written in cursive which read:

‘Kinda weird to write this but I heard you were free tomorrow. Would you like to walk around the park nearby with me? I’ll probably be around there at 8 in the morning, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. —A.M ◡̈’

For a man like him, you’d never thought his handwriting was alike of a fairy tale novel.

꒰🍰꒱ swishswishswish prattles the pink-tinted brush within your nimble hold. Each delicate tap against the swell of your soft cheeks swell even more with colour, adorning a scent you were far too familiar with— cherry-kissed by love herself.

You are very adamant in looking like a right pixie for today.

Last night you could not get much sleep because of the excitement your heart held. You were dying to meet Arthur again without being in the same frilly uniform you always wore, a face coated with powder not from your beauty products but from pastries you make and serve.

You adorn a floral patterned dress, with a pretty pearl necklace. The hat you wore was similar to a southern belle darling sun-hat, but less brim and less flowers, a simple laced bow tied around the rim instead. And of course, your signature laced bows clipped in your hair.

As pretty as a porcelain doll you were.

Your ballerina-like flats click gently on the cemented pavement down towards the park. The scent of steam and machine slowly transition to more of a petrichor-like smell as you near the park.

There he was, standing around the entrance, admiring the flowers from beyond. You can’t help the soft giggle escaping your lips as he looked behind him and went immediately silent at the sight of your beauty. It was almost coincidental on how the flowers around gently wavered by and shined more brighter once you passed by with a shy smile.

“Hi,” You greet him softly- almost too gentle for his liking. Your hands are positioned behind your back, with the soles of your feet resting on the ground as you tilt your head to maintain eye contact with him. You notice his hair was slicked back a bit, and his attire was more cleaner than usual.

“Hey,” He replies back. He lends out an arm for you to hold, and you do so happily. He looks everywhere but your direction.

He clears his throat with a bit of hesitancy. “Thought you weren’t comin’. Hell, I thought you didn’t even see the message I wrote on the back.”

“Why wouldn’t I go?” You smile eagerly, “It’s nice to be somewhere else for a change. Being cooped up in that bakery can sometimes make me feel dizzy.” That was the longest sentence he’s ever heard you mutter.

“I reckon smelling the same sweets over ‘n’ over again would make ya go crazy” He replies cheekily. His eyes size you up again. Slowly yet surely. A little fairy you were, with beauty no other. He opens his mouth to say something, anything- but he slowly shuts it.

And suddenly, he builds up enough courage to say something.

“You look.. Real pretty.” He quietly mutters. Lovely doe-like eyes stare up at him again- and how quick did his knees almost buckle was a good comparison to his latest duel.

“..You think I look pretty?”

He slowly nods, scratching at the stubble on his chiselled jaw with his other hand, “The prettiest.”

He’s not sure if the glittering pink powder on your cheeks becomes more prominent as seconds pass by. He watches you slowly become sheepish and giddy under his sharp gaze. You fight the curled corner of your lips to turn downwards, but alas you give up immediately as you quite literally melt under his touch.

You shyly stutter out a small “Thank you.” The grip on his arm becomes just a tad bit tighter.

The silence was nothing but comfortable despite it being a bit awkward at the start. After his compliment, you can’t help that fluttering feeling of love bursting inside, up in the skies lays an imaginary cherubim whom shoots those heart-shaped arrows quickly into your heart as you glance at him another time.

And it seemed that the cherubim shot his arrow in his heart, too.

“I loved that drawing you made f’ me yesterday,” You mutter. High-pitched yet so soothing in tone- was your voice. Almost mellifluous, like a serenade similar to those soft jingles heard in the entrance of the bakery, “I never knew you could draw.”

He chuckles lightly, “Yeah, figured. I don’t really look like the type to draw, do I?”

“No, not really.” You softly giggle, “But it’s.. it’s cute.” The way your tone changes pitch at the end makes him conclude of how your intentions were supposed to be.

He quirks a brow. A slow smirk curling on his face.

You catch on immediately. Your cheeks become the same pigment of blush you used, “I-I didn’t mean it like that—”

His soft laugh interrupts you. “No, no. I get ya, I get ya.”

You can’t help but look away from embarrassment. Just a few minutes in and he’s unconsciously teasing you.

“Hey.. Look at me.” He narrows his eyes at your little show.

You don’t.

“C’mooon, it ain’t such a big deal..” He’s about to grab your chin to make you look his way. Though his hand backs away when he sees those beady eyes of yours slowly coming back to maintain eye contact.

He smiles unconsciously at your sweetness. “Yeah. Good girl.”

He unconsciously brushes your cheek with his thumb. You puff your cheeks out immediately, heart hammering in your chest at the title. You cross your arms in-front of your chest, hand resting on your fore-arm. He quietly notes to himself how pretty your hand would be if a ring was seen on your ring finger.

Suddenly, you feel your heart drop. You want to say something, anything.

“Arthur?” Your hand suddenly goes to his sleeve, tugging it softly to get his attention.

“Mhm?” He responds, tilting his head down to meet your gaze.

Suddenly, you feel like your tongues all tied up inside your mouth. Your mind is in shambles and you’ve suddenly forgotten every word in the English dictionary as his pretty eyes stare at you as if you were an ethereal being.

“I.. er,” You fiddle with the small frills of the end of your dress, “N—nevermind.”

“Hey, now.” He comes a bit closer with that boyish charm smile. The faint scent of hair pomade and wood makes you swoon just a bit more, “You can’t just back off like that, c’mon.. tell me.”

“I..” You hesitantly start off. “What.. What are we, Arthur?”

He seemed to be a bit caught off guard with the abrupt question. You catch onto his quietness, and immediately you shrink out of embarrassment. You feel ashamed, flustered for even asking that!

You dare try to look at him in the eyes once more, “I- I’m sorry I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t apologise.”

You slowly blink when he cuts you off.

He’s a bit difficult to read at this moment as he processes his words. He looks at you a few times, gosh did his heart beat fast.

Then, he slowly opens his mouth. “I.. I ain’t so sure myself. But I just..” He takes a deep breath, “I like you, a lot. Yer a real lovely girl, a good girl. But you shouldn’t be with a man like me, miss.”

You feel yourself falter, “Wh— What? Why?”

He shakes his head. He’s hesitant. He doesn’t want to answer, but for your sake he does.

“I.. ain’t a good man, [name].” He tries to explain to you. “Never was in the start. ‘N I don’t want you gettin’ into trouble just cuz people seen you with me.”

You narrow your eyes, allowing him to continue on and elaborate. You feel like the happiest woman alive, but the saddest.

“I’m..” He looks around to see if anyone was listening, and he leans in just a bit, “I’m an outlaw, sweetheart.”

“…And?”

He’s taken aback once again. The garden amongst you quietens as soon as you uttered out that single word. You feel awfully thankful because of the fact that no one was around you.

You feel like this’ll be the most stupidest decision in your life. Your heart and brain yearns for the man that stands in front of you, who holds you like a porcelain doll and who treats you like the prettiest princess alive.

“I— I don’t care if.. if yer an outlaw.” You stutter out, “You’ve made me feel things I’ve never felt before and I..”

Both his hands come to yours, fingers coming to intertwine with yours. The bold contrast between your skin and size told you everything. Calloused filled, scar-stricken hairy hands paired with hands that were always smoothened, delicately cared with little to no blemishes. He squeezes your hands firmly.

“Darlin’..” He sighs, “I don’t want you to get hurt ‘cuz of me, ‘s all I’m saying.”

“Please, Arthur.” You plead silently. You’re not even sure what you’re begging for at this moment. You want him, and he wants you. He looks so conflicted, his demeanour falls as soon as you use those puppy eyes you were blessed with. Long lashes slowly fall down, which rises and shows those glistening pearls of coloured irises.

“..Damn.” He kisses his teeth out of pure irritation over the situation. Not because of you, never. But because of the decisions which ultimately resulted in the worst. He looks at you one more time.

“You’re real needy thing y’know that?” He grunts lowly before leaning in slowly to press his lips on your forehead. Immediately do you melt in his arms, you cling onto him like the princess you were.

He holds you closely. Your face meets his chest, and his arms are wrapped around your waist, “You really wanna get with me huh?”

“Yes,” You reply, out of breath at the touch. “More than anything.” You continue on with a sweet whimper which makes his desires go crazy in his mind.

“You’re gon’ be in for a real long ride, sweetheart.” He mutters softly in your ear.

You don’t hesitate to answer back. “I don’t mind.”

“You really sure?” He asks one more time, “Y’can’t back out once yer with me. You’re mine from then on, y’hear?”

“All yours.” You nod once again.

꒰🍰꒱ “I’ve been thinking.”

The brush in your hand is slow in movement, before placed down gently on the table below. A brow is quirked at the sound of your beau’s voice which rattled in your head.

It’s been over few months or so since you’ve gotten together. When he couldn’t visit, he’d send letters with the sweetest words. You’ve kept them all in a small box which cheekily peaked out in the corner of your room, right on top of your mahogany wardrobe.

“You oughta meet m’ family.” He bluntly states.

“Your family?” You tilt your head.

He nods, scratching at the stubble on his angular jaw. Your eyes catch the slight tremble his hand had when it was coming to his jaw, and you can’t help but be even more curious.

“Lemme rephrase that.. Reckon you should come meet my gang. They’re my family, in a way.”

You hesitate at the word ‘gang’. Obviously, by that word alone it insinuated meanings which you were taught to be aware.

“Don’t you worry, they’re all nice people,” He brings up a hand to place on-top of yours, “You don’t have meet ‘em if you don’t feel ready yet, ‘m just saying.”

You shyly smile up at him.

“I’ll meet them.”

His crinkled eyes widen in surprise, “You will?”

“Mhm,” You nod, “Oh- Just give me some time to prepare, will you?”

“Right, right. You go do your little princess activities which’ll span for over a whole five hours.” He teases. He earns a glare from your puppy face, something he’s all too familiar with.

“Quiet, you.”

“The hell are you even doing in there? Does it really have to take you a whole two hours to pick an outfi— Ouch.” A sock clumsily hits his face.

Surprisingly, it didn’t take you a whole five hours to get ready. Before you could grab the necklace on your desk, Arthur reaches from behind to grab those dainty pearls of yours before clasping it behind your neck himself. He slowly leans in to delicately place a soft kiss on your sensitive neck before standing up to dust himself.

“Y’ready, sweetheart?” He asks with a low drawl.

“Mhm!” You smile happily, clinging to his arm.

Outside from the building you lived in has a small horse post outside to hitch said animals. He leads you to a horse far more taller than him, quite literally towering over you. With the least of efforts, he picks you up from the waist to plop you on the saddle, before he himself hitches on the magnificent mare.

It took over an hour to travel to some sort of densely packed trail. You can’t help but tilt your head at the location, tilting your head up to question the man who lazily rode the horse behind you. His chest was quite a good alternative for a pillow.

“..You live here?”

He snorts, “Er.. Kinda. You’ll see.”

Not long do you see a large campsite, you feel yourself shrink at the sound of.. new people.

Sure you worked at a job where you had to talk to people. But you weren’t the best at keeping up a conversation with.. criminals, you could say.

“Arthur’s back, Arthur’s back!” A little boy’s voice rings through your ears, you can’t help but curiously peak from his shoulder to see whom it was. A young boy with brown hair- blue coat and a tooth missing. He eagerly points to the man as he enters in the vicinity.

“Ooh, ‘n he’s brought a girl..” The young boy ushers a woman far too familiar to come over.

“He what now?” The sound of a few footsteps were heard- oh gosh did you feel as nervous as a doe trying to not stumble on its legs.

“A girl?”

“Don’t tell me we’ve got another mouth to feed.”

“She’s real purdy.”

“She seems fancy..”

“[name]?”

You jump at the sound of your name being called- you look behind to see.. Mary-Beth!

“Oh!” Arthur hops down, picking you up from the horse to settle you onto the ground. You eagerly smile at the woman you knew well.

“What are you doing here?!” The book-worm asks with a squeal, rushing to you for a hug.

“I— I could ask you the same thing!” You stammer as you feel yourself getting lifted up a bit from the ground, hugging her tightly back.

Arthur coughs to interrupt the soft chattering, “I’d like you all to meet m’ girl. No touching, ‘cept for the girls ‘n Jack.”

“Ha! Knew you had a thing for her—” You hear a raspy voice from afar, near the little boy you presumed was named Jack. You’ve seen him before, and if you could recall.. His name was John. A flick to the forehead is what you see between your beloved and him.

“Tilly ‘n the others are here somewhere finishing chores up,” Mary-Beth beckons a few of the girls to come over. Karen was the first to bid you a ‘hello!!!’

“Y’got any cake for us?” She jokingly asks. Her eyes widen when she realises she’s spoken too soon when she sees the few boxes of treats which were stacked and tied with a pink bow neatly on top of Arthur’s horse.

“[name], I think ‘m gonna kiss you.” Karen walks away to grab one box for herself. You let out a giggle as you go and greet the other girls.

Fortunately for you, everyone was welcoming and homey well um, except for one. But you’ve heard from most that he’s always like that.

“It’s quite a surprise for Arthur to bring a woman back to camp,” An old man to which you’ve became comfortable talking with for a while sits next to you. Hosea was his name, for some reason does he remind you of your grandfather.

“Oh? How so?” You shyly question. His warm eyes stare at your figure endearingly.

“Well for starters, he usually scares them off.”

“Hosea.” Your love comes to your side, embarrassed at his words.

“It’s quite true! Here, let me tell her about the story of when you…”

For the rest of the day, you were treated carefully and lovingly. You weren’t sure what you’d expect from a gang filled with criminals and thieves, but you could surely say that they were a sweet group of people.

You’ll be expecting a large sum of visitors on the following days, and perhaps a small ring soon enough.

#fem! reader #rdr2 x you #arthur morgan x you #afab! reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x fem! you #rdr2 #arthur morgan x fem! reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x fem!reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan fic #arthur x reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #rdr x reader #red dead redemption community #arthur morgan rdr

[moonstruckme]

Hey, perhaps a smut of James overstimulating reader by eating her out and constantly cream pie-ing her?? 👀

Thanks for requesting!

cw: smut, mdni, everything is consensual ofc

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 784 words

You don’t realize you’re crying until James wipes your tears with a delicate touch, pushing out his bottom lip. “Aw, angel, what’s the matter?”

You try to speak, but your breath catches as his fingers find that spot again, crooking inside of you. 

“You don’t wanna say?” There’s laughter in his voice, and every inch of you trembles as he leans closer, the tendons in his forearm flexing as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. “C’mon, sweetheart, use your words.” 

You make a desperate keening sound, hips twitching into James’ hand as a mixture of his slick and yours seeps from your swollen cunt. James kisses lazily at the underside of your jaw, curls tickling your face as his other hand rubs a placating path up and down your side. You’re touching every bit of his skin you can get your hands on, his face, his shoulder blades, his back. James’ tongue skims over your pulse point at the same moment as his fingers sponge over that ruinous spot inside you again, and you moan.

“Jamie,” you gasp. “I—I can’t—”

“What?” You can feel his smile against your skin, but his tone has gentled when he asks, “What is it?”

“Please.” 

That does the job. James loves to tease, but he’ll never make you plead for what you want. His fingers slip out of you, and you whine, but his voice has gone saccharine when he says, “I know. I know, love. I’ve got you.” He brushes his lips over your collarbone, kissing a path down the valley of your chest, your stomach, all while his hands spread your quivering thighs even farther apart. He grips you under the knees, tugging you back down to the edge of the bed and opening you wider in the process. “Once more for me, yeah?”

You fist your hands in the sheets in anticipation, but there’s a pause. You look down to find James watching you, waiting. You nod, another tear falling down your cheek when you blink. 

“Yeah,” you echo feebly.  

James grins, ducking between your thighs. He takes his time winding you up again, kissing gently at your clit before swirling his tongue around the bead in loose, languid circles. By the time his tongue dips inside you, the sounds you’re making seem faraway, like they can’t penetrate the haze that’s encompassed you. Pain and pleasure have become indistinguishable, and tears fall from your eyes even as your mouth makes blubbering attempts at encouragement.

It’s all James can do to hold your hips steady as your back arches off the bed, and his satisfied groan rumbles through you just before you cry out for the final time. 

“There we go,” he says, raising his head as he rubs your hip comfortingly. “You did so good, just take it easy now.” 

The walls of your cunt are still fluttering in time with your heart when you register the pool of wet stickiness under your bum, and you wonder whether at this point, it’s more your cum or his. You taste both when James crawls back up you, lowering his body over yours to press a sweet kiss to your lips. 

“You alright, lovely girl?” he asks, somewhat tentative as he looks into your face. “Didn’t take it too far, did I?”

You shake your head, cupping his face in your palm. “No,” you manage, breathless. “That was perfect.” 

James smiles, your sunshine boy, and grabs his glasses from the nightstand before laying down beside you. His eyes are giant, fondness magnified behind the thick lenses. You make an indent in his cheek just because you can, and his smile worsens, a dimple appearing beside your thumb. 

You don’t want to move, but you have to. “I need to go buy plan b,” you sigh, the air from it rustling some of James’ curls. 

He gives you a sympathetic look. “How about you get a bath ready for us,” he suggests instead, “and I’ll go get the pill.” 

“You don’t have to,” you say halfheartedly, but he’s already pushing himself up, locating his pants on the floor. “You’ve done all the work today.” 

“Oh, and what an awful job it’s been,” he laments laughingly, buttoning his pants and pulling on a sweatshirt. “Truly a burden. Be back in a couple minutes, sweetheart.” 

“You’re too good to me.” You sit up, crossing your worn out legs underneath you as he unlocks the door. “Thanks, Jamie.” 

“You’re not off the hook either,” he says, but the grin he tosses over his shoulder is all sweetness. “Bath, angel!”

You can’t even bring yourself to feign annoyance as you get up, starting for the bathroom. “You got it.”

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter smut #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #dom!james potter #dom james potter #james potter oneshot #james potter drabble #james potter scenario #james potter imagine #marauders era #marauders #the marauders #the marauders era #marauders fandom

[reidssluttywaist]

Spencer does your makeup.

In which you let Spencer do your makeup for the day, and he knows exactly how you do it.

fem!reader, fluff

notes: this isn't proofread, so sorry in advance for any mistakes you might find!! absolute fluff btw. If any of you guys wanna send a request feel free to do so, i might start writing smut as well but im still a little shy lol, feel free to follow and interact.

Spencer watches you get ready every chance he gets. He has your morning routine engraved in his brain. He knew the rhythm of your mornings like the lyrics to a favorite song, each step a symphony of grace and purpose.

He loves your expressions as you're trying to figure out your outfit, the way you look the temperature for the day on your phone to know if you should bring a coat or not – even though you always do, 'cause you're always cold.

He also loves to watch you do your makeup, he looks at you as if you were the most talented artist and were finishing up a masterpiece, he watches you with attention, careful to not miss a single brush stroke as you blush up your cheeks.

"Hey, um, would you mind if I tried doing your makeup today?" Spencer's voice was tentative, almost shy, as he approached you.

You were surprised by his offer, turning to face him, a soft smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Sure, Spence. Why not? It could be fun."

He sat down in front of you, analyzing your face and the makeup items on your desk, he picked up your moisturizer first, applying it all over your face, massaging it softly as he did, he followed all your skincare to a T, his face of concentration making you hide a smile.

Spencer got your foundation and beauty blender, you couldn't stop the surprised look on your face as he took the time to wet your sponge, surprised he even knew you did this. And again, he followed your base routine as if he was the one doing it every day, not missing a single stroke of the brush on your skin.

"Did you know that lipstick was originally made from crushed bugs and plants?" he said, his voice a mixture of fascination and amusement. "Thankfully, we've come a long way since then."

You laugh softly at the information, loving his ramble. He continued rambling about the history of makeup and all the techniques ancient people used, and you looked at him as his hands worked on your face, he was so close, paying so close attention to your face you almost got shy, but it was Spencer.

Spencer makes you feel so confident, he never fails to compliment you every chance he gets, his eyes lighting up every time he sees you, if you're in your pajamas or a fancy dress, it doesn't matter, he looks at you just the same like you're the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, and he makes you feel that way too.

When it came time to apply the eyeliner, you noticed he was struggling a little, smiling a little when he made a wavy line almost on your cheek.

"Oops, sorry," he muttered, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

You reached out, taking the eyeliner from his hand with a reassuring smile. "It's okay, Spence. I'll finish up."

As you smoothed out the lines and added the finishing touches, Spencer watched with a mixture of awe and admiration, his heart swelling with pride at the sight of your beauty enhanced by his handiwork.

When you turned to face him, the mirror reflecting your radiant smile at him, Spencer couldn't help but feel a swell of affection for the incredible person standing before him.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, his voice filled with love and admiration.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds

[cherryjuiceblues]

and the shibari-

🫠🫠🫠

pls

even if its like two sentences PLS I BEG i need a one shot for that or smth like how would that play out

✰ dom!harry sexual content. bondage. slight breeding kink. minors dni. 𝑤𝑐 1.3k ッ mutually beneficial masterlist

Y/N has lived her entire life with the knowledge that Christmas is a time for unwrapping presents.

So the fact that Harry’s gift currently lays concealed, untouched, waiting to be further decorated feels… contrary. 

Of course most presents are wrapped in paper, not lace—and are tied in ribbons, not knots. And most presents contain objects, not restless, whimpering, cockdrunk submissives that are splayed across bed sheets like modern art.

Harry smooths his index finger down the line of knots in between Y/N’s breasts, pushing into her sternum with promise. He’d taken his time—explaining as he went—twisting and tying, bathing Y/N’s skin in praise and compliments; soft lips kissing through revealing lace. 

The garment hugs her in the most flattering of ways, the soft colour complimentary to her skin tone, and the true depiction of delicate femininity. Harry hadn’t wanted to take it off—sure the image before him would remain the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen until the day he ceased to breathe.

“Gorgeous girl. Gorgeous, gorgeous girl.” He whispers it as though she can’t hear him—though she can’t really, not with the speed in which her brain is working. Harry traces his finger round, round the ropes that frame her breasts, just tight enough to push them out slightly—to make his mouth water with want. Her breasts pulled out of their confinements, nipples pebbled and wet already but never enough.

He dances his hand down slowly: torturously, across the braiding that covers her stomach, crisscrossing all the way down to bracket her hips and loop through her thighs. The ropes press into the space between her pelvis and her mound, displaying her cunt in—what Harry believes—the way it always should be. Framed by ripped knickers and tight knots.

“All I need. You’re all I need, darlin’.” He meets her eyes, flicking up to catch her floaty gaze. She begs him silently, for what, she’s unsure. Anything. Anything and everything he feels generous enough to give her.

He’d already worked her up once or twice, through her panties before he ripped them (one Christmas gift already made useless), with the little bullet he’d first given her on his sun lounger. Even Y/N thought edging was a little cruel on such a day but Harry promised her reward would be worth it.

When she wouldn’t stop squirming on the second build up, Harry had tied her legs up too—pushed open and wide either side of her chest—calves to thighs so there was no escaping. Y/N couldn’t bring herself to care about the exposure, too dizzied and dismantled to feel an ounce of embarrassment.

But now she drips copiously, the thin barrier of her underwear soaked through, and more relevantly, ripped—and the need to beg with her numb mouth bears all too heavy. Wanton moans slip out without her notice, triggered by even the lightest of breaths or strokes against her skin.

Her hands, Harry has left free. Not as a luxury but as a challenge, a task to keep them to herself, to prove that she can do it. It hurts her to curl her fingers into the sheets instead of his hair, his biceps. The cotton burns against her knuckles. But he tells her how good she is for him and the words spread across her digits like salve.

He holds himself above her, eyes boring into her own. She registers that he’s there two seconds after the fact. “You’ve been so patient, sweetheart. A Christmas miracle,” he smiles, dipping down to brush the tip of his nose down the bridge of hers. Y/N mewls into his mouth, tilting her head so desperately. He drops down, sponging his lips to hers in a kiss worthy of being shared underneath a door frame decorated with mistletoe.

And he nudges his cock through her folds, swallowing the gasp Y/N makes with another kiss. She hadn’t even noticed him undress. He speaks praise into her cheek, in between kisses to her face, wherever he can press.

“Wanna take me all today? Hm? Let me give you one final present, huh, baby.”

Y/N agrees fervently, unsure to what exactly it is she’s nodding so chaotically for but uncaring about the semantics. “Yes, pl—please. Please, Sir.”

“Yeah,” Harry hums, canting his hips slowly to bump into her clit with every rut forward. He glistens with her, more than ready to press forward and slip inside. But he’s never been a simple man. “Yeah…” he repeats, “think I w’na fill you up, nice and heavy with my load.” His lips kiss the shell of her ear as he rasps, “And then stay snug inside of you until I fatten up again. And I want to fuck you over, and over, and over.”

Y/N’s legs ache, tied open when they wish to sling around Harry’s hips. She cries pathetically, girlishly, as she finds him through unshed tears. “More—more than anything. Want it mo’than anything.” Her fingers twitch, knuckles tight with the way they cling onto the sheets. “Please, Daddy.”

“There’s a good girl,” Harry grunts, gripping the base of his cock as he teases the tip inside Y/N’s fluttering hole. “There’s my good little present, all wrapped up for me. For Daddy. All tied up and pretty.” His hips meet her own, pressing Y/N’s legs into the mattress. “Put your arms above your head, arch that back f’me. Show me those tits.” His body flattens deliciously on top of her own as his mouth searches for her breasts, tongue laving and lips sponging.

Y/N follows orders mindlessly, each word from Harry’s mouth shutting her brain off more and more. She feels him twitch inside of her, in tandem with the involuntary squeezes she answers back with. He’s everywhere. It’s mind numbing. And the longer he thrusts, the more filthy his words become.

“Wish I could fucking—God—wish I could take a picture, frame it in the fuckin’ hallway. Put you on display like this. Just for me. Just—for me,” he growls, voice gravelly and tight, always filled with a sense of restraint. Like he might turn into a beast if not for that semblance of control.

“Yes,” Y/N agrees, prepared to do anything. She’d become encased in glass for him, displayed in a museum all tied up in knots, just for him. If he wanted that. The delicious bite of rope shoots sparks through her veins, along her entire body, hot underneath every knot. Harry kisses her, chest to chest, sloppy in the way their lips meet but perfect just the same. 

He’s close, hips snapping fervently and moans Y/N wishes she heard more frequently pouring into her mouth. Harry snakes a hand down, desperate to rub circles into her clit and feel her pulsate around him as he empties himself into her. He needs it. He needs her.

“Come on, baby. Come on, cum for me. Milk my cock.” She needs no further encouragement; her eyes squeeze shut, her lungs stutter inside her chest, her hands form fists that feel downright deprived of chestnut curls. “That’s a good fucking girl—pretty fucking girl—yes, fuck!” Harry’s mouth twitches against Y/N’s cheek as his hips stutter, and he presses his cock deep, filling her with rope after rope. Ribbon after ribbon. Hot and messy and full.

Harry stays inside her just like he promised. He kisses her, he undoes the ropes—despite wishing she could wear them forever—he massages her skin and scratches at her scalp. She hums and smiles and lays leaden on his mattress, heavy arms and heavy legs still yearning to wrap around his warm body. He stays inside until he’s hard again and then he loves on her with a different gentleness. Tears escape over her waterline and he kisses them away, and he’s never been surer of what he whispers to her after the third, maybe fourth, and final time.

“Best Christmas I’ve ever had, darlin’. Favourite present too.” And then, with a tired smile, “What will I do with you next year?”

#mutually beneficial #harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles x reader #dom!harry #domrry #writing #harry styles one shots #harry styles blurbs #poopypandaa #concept

[judeswhore]

steve harrington x touched starved reader? Maybe they end up making out or smth idk

u requested this forever ago and it got lost in my inbox so i’m so sorry it took so long, idk if this is what u wanted, i wasn’t sure what to write for the touch starved thing so i hope this is okay <3

tucked away into the side of steve’s body you usually felt at home, at ease, completely wrapped in a soft comfort that you never wanted to leave but today it still wasn’t enough. you were pressed into him, head settled slightly under his arm as it draped over your shoulder, your own arm wrapped around his middle, even your legs were pressed flush to his thighs and yet you still wanted - needed - to be closer. you were feeling in need of extra attention, or extra closeness and your current position wasn’t cutting it.

you shuffled, tried to push yourself closer, hand slipping beneath the soft cotton of his shirt to feel the heat of his skin against your palm and in turn, steve kissed your head, held his lips against your hair for a few moments. he was too engrossed in the movie you were supposed to be watching, hadn’t clocked on to how in the past five minutes you’d worked yourself closer and closer to him. his thumb brushed over your shoulder and you hummed softly when he rubbed his hand up and down the length of your upper arm.

despite the skin on skin contact you still weren’t satisfied, feeling unsettled and untethered, an odd emotion you weren’t all that used to around your boyfriend. you pouted a little, shifted once again so you could throw your leg between his thighs, twist your body and tuck your face away in the crook of steve’s neck. you were practically clinging to him, lodged in as close as possible, your hand shifting from his chest to wrap around the back of his neck, fingers slipping into his hair.

“you’re being extra touchy today.” steve mumbled the words into the top of your head, voice a little muffled and clouded with sleep. you could only shrug, nuzzling your nose into the soft skin of his throat, breathing in the scent of laundry detergent and collage and steve that often made your head fuzzy.

“jus’ love you.” you kissed his neck, soft, wet open mouthed kisses over his pulse and then his jaw, dipping back to kiss over his collarbone, shifting until you were sitting completely in his lap. “need to be closer, stevie.” he huffed out a breathless laugh, nudged his nose against the side of your head and wrapped both arms around your waist. he pulled you flush against him, one hand slipping beneath your shirt to press against your back.

“not sure you can get any closer, baby.” steve held you tight, let you sponge kisses over his skin while he rubbed one hand up and down your back, the thumb on his other hand brushed softly over your waist. your mouth was making him restless, his own turning to kiss your shoulder, fingers tugging at your shirt so he could reach your bare skin. his lips were warm, soft from the balm you forced him to wear and it wasn’t long before your kisses fell off, your mind turning to mush at the feel of him against you.

“steve,”

“hmm?” he lifted his head, tilted it back to rest against the sofa and met your gaze with dark blown out eyes. your fingers carded through his hair, nails scratching over his scalp as you brought your other hand to cup his jaw. he blinked at you, slow and steady, squeezed your hip and pulled you impossibly closer and your heart ached because he knew you so well, knew exactly what you needed when sometimes you didn’t. he flashed a small, adoring smile. “c’mere and kiss me.”

and so you did just that, leant in and caught his lips, tilted your head slightly to avoid bumping his nose. his mouth on yours settled something inside of you, showered you with a feeling of tranquility that only ever seemed to come with him. you kissed him slowly at first, stroked his cheek with your thumb and basked in the minty taste of his tongue when it glided over yours. he hummed, smiled into the kiss and cupped the back of your neck, made sure to keep his hands against bare skin the way he knew you often liked.

thumb pressed against his chin, you deepened the kiss, licked into his mouth with more meaning, tugged a little at his hair as things got a little quicker, a little harsher. steve rocked his hips up against yours, slipped his hand from your back and around your front, teased the tips of his fingers against the soft skin on the underside of your boob before flattening his palm against your ribs. you were running out of air, lungs burning but you didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to pull away from his lips and the expert gaze of his teeth or the perfect glide of his tongue. you wanted to keep kissing him until you couldn’t anymore, until you somehow got lost in him and you became a tangle of just one. it was silly and ridiculous and somewhat embarrassing but it was wasn’t close enough and you still needed more.

steve sucked softly at your bottom lip, tugged it with his teeth before letting it go with snap, rutting his hips up and meeting your eyes with a half lidded gaze. you were both breathing harshly, your own hips rolling almost subconsciously over his, your fingers getting lost in his hair while your other hand made its way down the back of his shirt, palm and fingers sliding over his shoulder blade. he kissed the corner of your mouth, your cheek, jaw, chin, the space between your eyes before dipping his head, lips hot and wet as they worked over your throat.

“let me take care of you, yeah?”

#sinclaiirs baby blurbs #baby blurb #stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things blurb #stranger things fic #stranger things one shot #joe keery #steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #leigh’s baby blurbs

[bearhugsandshrugs]

Folie á Deux: Bonus Chapter

Read the whole fic on AO3 Read just the new chapter on AO3 this fic was the first pure smut piece that I wrote and it was so well received that it motivated me for months. I recently had inspiration to write more chapters for it so here it goes. you can read this one without the previous ones

fem!Tav x Raphael x Haarlep and all combinations of them

“Ah! My favorite client.” Raphael was lounging on a couch in his boudoir, watching Haarlep pound into a man relentlessly on the bed, when Tav walked in. 

She tried to keep a neutral face, but her eyes dragged over again and again towards the incubus and his current partner. Victim.

“Quite the show, isn’t it?”, the devil asked her, chuckling, not taking his eyes off the bed. “But I’m afraid you can’t join. Contractual obligations.”

Shaking her head, she walked over to where Raphael was sitting. Neither Haarlep nor his partner gave any indication that they paid attention to them or even heard them.

“Every time you say I’m your client you sound like a whore”, Tav teased sweetly, and Raphael laughed loudly and fully. She’d come to enjoy the sound of his laughter nearly as much as her time at the House of Hope, even though it had been a while since her last visit.

“If you want to be naughty today, I have just the treatment for that”, the devil said slowly, tone low and mellow, but the threat shone through nevertheless. He tore his gaze away from the bed and smirked at her. “Are you? Naughty, pet?”

Tav swallowed. It felt like a trap, but then again, they’d established a dynamic that was on eye level as much as it could be, given the circumstances.  “Yes”, she tried holding her head a little higher. “I am.”

Over on the bed the man came with a loud moan, and Haarlep pulled out of him quickly, sighing exasperatedly.  “Marvelous”, Raphael clasped his hands together, addressing his house guest, “it was a pleasure doing business with you.” 

The man sobbed, it was unclear why, but Haarlep found it terribly amusing. “Take him back, master, please?” He looked at the devil, and a small smile played around his lips as he noticed Tav already waiting on the couch.

“Of course”, Raphael replied and snapped his fingers, and the stranger disappeared – leaving only a sweaty outline on the bed behind. Grimacing, he snapped his fingers again and a servant appeared, hastily fixing the bed while Raphael looked on with a frown.

Haarlep, meanwhile, walked into the restoration fountain, still erect, washing himself clean. “It’s good to see you again, darling”, he greeted Tav sweetly, pulling back his foreskin as he made eye contact with her. “You should join me in the bath.”

“Yes”, Raphael agreed absentmindedly, still watching the servant clean; grunting in disapproval when she skipped a particular spot only he saw as messy. “Join him.”

Tav took off her clothes, leaving them neatly folded on the couch, then dipped into the fountain. The water was pleasantly warm, and she immediately felt the magic soothe her skin, relaxing the tension in her muscles, and softening her features. Sinking down, she let the water envelop her up to her throat, and Haarlep stood nearby, watching her intently. 

“Come here”, he purred, beckoning Tav towards him. She stood back up to join him – in truth, she longed to touch his body, run her hands over his chest and down between his legs, feel the ridges of his body and wrap her mouth around as many of his parts as she could. Maybe he could tell, because the way he smirked when she stood close was full of recognition. Behind her, she heard the servant leave, then Raphael shuffle, but she knew better than to turn around unless asked to. Her attention was demanded in front of her.

“I feel terribly tired after this exertion”, Haarlep sighed, wetting his lips before he continued, “Why don’t you make yourself useful?” 

He handed her a sponge and smirked expectantly. There would be no complaint from her. Leisurely and with care Tav started brushing over the incubus’ body, taking in every piece of him as she slid her hands, along with the sponge, over his entire body; making sure to cradle his balls and stroke his cock with languid motions. Haarlep brought his hands up to her face, cupping her cheek, then dragging one, sharp claw all the way down between her breasts as she tightened her grip around him. 

“Not forgetting the wings, are we?”, he interrupted her, teasing, grinning, as he ran his hands over her body. 

Oh. Tav swallowed, tearing herself away from him to step to the side. His wings were wide and large, and she had to move and stretch to reach them. She carefully wiped at the broad, extended wings that looked almost too tender to touch. Feeling them in her hands, however, revealed more strength in them than expected: They felt like smooth leather, and Haarlep groaned when she reached the tips, clearly sensitive. 

She wondered how they’d feel against her skin, inside her mouth. From the corner of her eye she saw Haarlep watch her, mouth twitching upwards, amused. He’d never asked her to touch them before. He’d never even let her near them before.

Meeting his gaze she brought her mouth towards one of the clawing tips, lips wrapping carefully around the end. The incubus sighed with delight, and from behind her she heard someone else draw in a sharp breath: Raphael. 

The wing tasted like copper and sugar, an alluring taste that made her want to explore them more. But she wasn’t granted her desire: Haarlep moved them away from her, straightening up so that the wings rose higher, and Tav’s mouth was left with nothing. 

“Eager as always”, Raphael commented from the sidelines.Then, addressing Haarlep, he added: “If she enjoys the wings so much, maybe you should let her have them.”

“What a wonderful idea”, the incubus giggled. Taking Tav’s hand he pulled her out of the fountain, taking the few steps with stride. 

The air brushed coolly against her body, and she was looking for a towel to dry herself when she felt it: Haarlep, pulling her tightly against his body. He brought his hands up to her tits and squeezed, his entire palms cupping them, fingers hungrily pressing into the flesh. His face loomed above her, and he raised an eyebrow teasingly when he looked down on her. 

“Having a thing for the devil’s form, do we?”, he giggled, pinching her nipples so hard Tav cried out, before his voice hardened. “Answer me.” “Y-yes”, she replied, excitement settling in her chest. 

Haarlep pulled her into him, his hands settling on her neck as his right wing whirled completely around her upper body, and the other wrapped around her legs. They enveloped her entire body tightly, pressing against every inch of her skin. They were warm, and strong, and far more flexible than she’d thought. More importantly, they held her in place: There was no chance she could move. Her legs and arms were locked within them, so tightly that it felt almost claustrophobic, every part of her paralyzed. Movements rippled through the wings like waves, massaging her breasts, her ass, her thighs. It felt maddening.

Heat pooled down between her legs as Haarlep’s wings covered her body. He watched her, lips parted with curiosity. And then… Something slid against the inside of her thigh, slowly creeping upwards. 

“Let’s see how you take this”, Haarlep giggled, bringing his mouth to hers for a greedy kiss as his tail dipped into her entrance. It pushed in effortlessly, her folds already wet, and the incubus chuckled with a low voice as his tail moved deeper and deeper inside her body. Tav drew a sharp breath in against his lips, overwhelmed by all the sensations: The wings still rubbing against her breasts and her ass, his tail twirling and curling inside her cunt, his greedy tongue playing with her mouth…

Through the wings she could feel his erection press against her core, and for a moment she imagined he was fucking her as his tail pumped in and out. Tav realized it was broader than it looked. It had easily the girth of two fingers, making her feel like she was getting fingered by a bendy, leathery, ….. Something. 

Her breathing picked up as the incubus continued his assault with his tail, continuously switching between kissing her and lapping broad licks over her entire face before biting at her neck. His hands were in her hair, around her throat, and every time she moaned he’d squeeze a little tighter. It was getting hard for Tav to breathe: Between the wings pressing down onto her body and his fingers tightening around her airways, she was getting lightheaded. If he wouldn’t stop, she’d surely lose consciousness–

“Stop”, she whimpered, even though her cunt was screaming at her to let him go on, have his way with her until she came. “Please.” Haarlep paused, but Raphael’s voice came smoothly from behind them: “Go on.”

Tav wanted to protest, wanted to say something, but Haarlep brought one of his hands up from her throat to her face, shoving three of his fingers inside her mouth. Down between her legs his tail started moving again, pushing in and out of her in sync with his fingers between her lips, rolling and teasing at every sensitive spot it could find. 

Her vision started to blur as the incubus fucked her closer and closer to the edge, his wings pressing against her as tightly as before. Tav moaned helplessly around his fingers, eyes wide, her lungs gasping for air between it all. Just before she blacked out, Haarlep pulled the tail out of her, his tip instead rubbing circles around her clit. She came instantly, her body convulsing and shuddering involuntarily in place, his wings rippling pressure onto her skin, teasing out the last bits of her high.  

When he released her, she stumbled backwards, gasping for air and recovery; but she was caught by a strong set of arms and another ridged body: Raphael’s. 

He had changed into his cambion form, and he was tall, so tall, the top of her head meeting the center of his chest. 

“If you want to act like a naughty little whore, we’ll treat you like one”, he whispered into her hair as she groaned at his touch. “Such a pity to see you’re still pretending you aren’t one.” “Go fuck yourself”, she grunted, trying to catch her breath.  “Oh pet, I am, often enough. But that’s not what you’re here for, is it?”

Opposite of her, Haarlep giggled. “Maybe she should fuck herself”, he offered, and Raphael sighed behind her.  “Hmmm, excellent idea”, he replied, running his hands over her stomach up to her breasts. Tav wanted to push him off, slap him and then his stupid incubus, but if she was being honest, the way Haarlep had used her had been hotter than it had any right to be. She longed to be touched, again and more, until she forgot her own name. 

Haarlep changed into a new form as a small shiver ran down Tav’s spine. She didn’t recognize who he turned into at first, but then she looked at a familiar facial structure, spotting the same freckles, the same dimples, the same little scars, only rougher, sharper, more angular. The incubus had turned into her – or, a version of her, one that was masculine. And had a penis.

Her gaze immediately dipped down between the incubus’ legs, trying to comprehend what she was seeing. Haarlep laughed, bringing his hand to his cock, and when he started stroking himself, Tav felt a flash of lightning spark in her core. It felt strange, but great; a phantom sensation that was so different yet so similar to her touching herself. 

Above her, Raphael chuckled and started playing with her tits, pulling at her nipples, scratching over her skin with his claws, squeezing her flesh again and again until she started to whimper. His erection pressed against her lower back, and when she tried to reach backwards, wanting to touch him, he slapped her breasts so hard she yelped.

“Squeaky little mouse”, he sighed with amusement, then pushed her away from him towards Haarlep, who caught her, laughing. “Let’s see if you last longer than the master”, the incubus said with a sweet smile, the mockery barely hidden underneath. His voice was deep, the bass vibrating in her core – already, he turned her on, simply by existing as her male mirror.

She knew this would be intense.

“Can’t we take a break?”, Tav asked without thinking, still trying to stabilize her breathing after what had happened moments before. “Breaks are for good little sluts”, Haarlep frowned, adding strictly: “But you’re a naughty whore. ” 

She swallowed. While she could leave at any time, she… didn’t want to. Not when the thought of feeling Haarlep inside her made her heart flutter. Not when she hadn’t even touched Raphael.

Well then.

Lying down on the bed wasn’t bad, actually. It was a short moment of rest, relaxing and comfortable, the fresh sheets smelling like soap and cherries. Haarlep grinned as he joined her, pulling her hips towards him, then spreading her legs so she was open wide. 

“Let’s see”, he sighed, lining himself up against her. The tip of his cock dragged through her wetness, and Tav immediately groaned. It was absurd to feel this on both ends, an onslaught of sensation already.

From the corner of her eye she saw Raphael lazily lean back on a couch, watching them, slowly stroking his cambion cock.

Haarlep pushed her thighs down as he entered her, and Tav sobbed out a moan from overwhelm. She felt herself: hot and wet and tight; and she felt the incubus’ version of her, hard and thick and rubbing against her walls. Wondering how it would feel if she touched his chest, she reached out for him, pulling him down to her. Haarlep was happy to comply: He ran his hands over her body while he kissed her, and Tav whimpered under his touch. When his lips met hers she felt like she was kissing someone else, and that someone else was kissing another stranger, and that stranger also kissed her – every sensation bouncing off of each other, just like the cock inside her cunt, stretching her, pushing into her, while she clenched around him again and again, trying out what new feelings she could draw out of him. Out of herself. 

It was too much for her to last long, but Haarlep wouldn’t grant her release. Laughing, he paused, straightening up again. 

“Now that you’ve had a taste, get to work”, he demanded, and Tav looked at him in confusion in response.  “What?” “Fuck yourself. On me.” He grinned, pulling her legs up so she could wrap them around his waist. That’s when she understood: He wanted her to get herself off on him while he sat there, buried inside her, watching. 

Groaning in frustration and need, Tav started grinding against him, immediately noticing how good it still felt, but how odd it was with this change of pace, one part of her seemingly in stasis. 

She used her arms to steady herself and prop herself up, trying to find a better angle, or maybe rub her clit, when she suddenly saw Raphael climb onto the bed, still in devil form. He was almost comically large, easily over a head taller than Haarlep in her male version, and his wings spanned nearly across the room when he opened them, eyes piercing her with interest.

The tip of his cambion cock pressed into her back – no, it was Haarlep’s back – and his hands wrapped around her – no, his – throat, steering Haarlep’s face backwards to meet him. And then: He kissed him. Her. Him. 

She felt Raphael’s lips on her, but of course he wasn’t making out with her, but with his incubus. They kissed lazily, slowly, vulgarly: tongues lapping at each other, over their mouths and teeth, lips sucked in then released, teeth biting down again and again until Tav tasted copper. The two men looked so hot, so into it, that she couldn’t tear her gaze away from them while she tried to pick up the pace, rolling her hips into the incubus with desperation. Worse: they completely ignored her. Raphael did not shoot her a glance once, while Haarlep sat still, upper body turned towards the devil. Neither of them cared that she was there. Neither of them bothered with her. 

And that was what sent her over the edge. After only a few moments, which she felt were entirely too short, she came. Crying out half from release, half from shame from her blatant neediness, Tav gasped for air as she rubbed her core against Haarlep, again and again, trying to drag out her high a little bit longer. 

No use. 

As soon as the walls inside her stopped clenching around his cock, Haarlep pulled out of her, laughing at her. 

“Pathetic”, he hissed, and from behind him, Raphael nodded.  “So needy. So submissive . Have you forgotten everything we taught you?”

Tav shook her head, whimpering out a “N-no” in response.  “That’s not very convincing”, giggled the incubus. 

“True”, Raphael agreed. “Seems like more lessons are in order.”

#bg3 raphael #haarlep #raphael x haarlep #haarlep x tav #raphael x tav #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfiction

[himbocoups]

˗ˋˏ YUCK! ˎˊ˗ | 18+ Only (Part Two)

synopsis: how can you remain friends with benefits with someone who turns his plushies around during sex, pouts when you don't kiss him goodbye, and spends his time occupying your mind when all you want is for him to leave you alone?

pairing: lsm x yn (gn afab)

genre: fluff, humor, romance | m, smut

tags: alcohol/food - reader also briefly blacks out, costume party, cursing, domesticity, fwb, sexual innuendos, showering together, yn un-alives a spider, university au | cowgirl, cunnilingus, dirty talk, fingering, handjob, hickies, love making, pet names, pnv, praise

wc: 11.5k

a/n: hi this is part 2/2 of yuck! thank you all so much for waiting. I honestly had so much fun writing this, and I hope you have fun reading. lmk if I missed any tags in part one or two. comments and reblogs are super appreciated!! pls pee after sex so you don't get an uti ♡ -nu

yuck! - part one

lipglossjun's masterlist

He came to your door unannounced, knocking loudly on your front door and causing you to jump in your seat. Three sharp knocks against the door using his middle knuckles and then a few friendly taps because he realizes he's standing in front of your door and not his resident’s door. The sound echoes loudly inside your lonely apartment but isn’t loud enough to alarm your neighbors because he purposely leans his side against the door to diffuse the sound and vibrations. You can’t blame him for his habit - he’s used to knocking on so many doors in one night that the freezer part of his mini fridge is stocked with frozen sponges in plastic baggies so he can ice his swollen knuckles at night. You don’t even have to look through your peeping hole to know it’s him, but it’s weird because you know he should be on-call today. Still, the knocks are enough to scare you into thinking you’re still dorming in the universities.

He tells you he has an employee banquet a few days before the break and was worried that his makeup might smudge on his suit. He also brought your go-to drink order from the tea shop across campus, punching in your specific add-ons and adjustments into the kiosk before even deciding what new seasonal drink he wanted to try. You had no choice but to begrudgingly take your drink from him while you shuffled to the side of your door so he could come into your apartment.

"I thought you already knew how to do this.”

You see him hold up your hand mirror to his neck to look at the small bruise you left on the side of his neck a few nights ago. He sits cross-legged on your apartment living room carpeted floor while you sit on the ottoman next to him.

“Only for an everyday base routine for my face,” he frowns while softly poking his bruise. “But my neck makeup keeps smudging and I don’t know how to stop it from getting on my clothes,” he admits while he lowers the neckline of his t-shirt, thinking about the stains he left on his shirt collars.

You uncap the bottle you’re holding and spray the cool setting spray on his bruise. He fans the wet product with his hand while you dig through his toiletry bag for his color-correcting palette. You dip his tiny makeup brush into the palette and bring the product-coated brush to paint over his bruise.

“If you want me to stop marking you, you can just tell me,” you suggest to him while brushing another thin layer. You tap your pointer finger lightly around the harsh edges, blending the colors into his skin. An intrusive thought tells you to poke your finger deep into his skin, but you decide not to.

He ooo’s at how you’re blending the product, angling the mirror so he can better see how you’re working.  

“But I like them,” he says while you spritz another light layer of setting spray. “They remind me of you,” he softly confesses while you blow on his skin. He finds himself angling the mirror again so that the mirror now focuses on your face.

He giggles at the tingling sensation of your warm breath against the cold product, and he smiles to himself when he sees your concentrated expression through the reflection in the mirror – how you purse your lips and how your eyebrows furrow together. If he weren’t an RA, he would proudly wear his love bites as a badge for everybody around him to see. He wants people to tease him whenever they see the bruise poking out of his hoodie when his hood is down. It’s not to let people know he’s getting it on. That’s just not who he is.

But there is that part of him that wants others to know you’re his. He’s tired of soft launching you on his Instagram. That’s what people do when they want others to know they’re talking to somebody. But you’re just his friend. He’s completely fine with showing you off, but he respects your privacy, knowing how much you hate having your picture taken. It’s also not like his closest friends don’t know about his relationship with you, but if it makes you happy, he’ll take it. He likes what the two of you have. And after all, he doesn't care about the pictures. It’s the person whose plate is almost always pictured across from his, the hand holding the ice cream cone, the second shadow under the street light who he cares for.

The bruises feel sore, but he loves how you automatically coddle him afterward, especially after a heated session. You always have that worried look on your face, your lips pouty and frowny. He remembers the number of ridges between your brows when you ask him how he’s feeling. He always tells you that he feels fine, great even, but you always sigh with a defeated look on your face. You’ll walk to the fridge in nothing but one of his old t-shirts and grab him a cold metal spoon. He doesn’t know if the cold spoon hack works, but he lets you do it anyway. He’ll let you do anything if it means he gets to spend more time with you no matter how prickly you may seem on the outside.

Now, he’s spending more time with you on a lazy Tuesday night. He’s done for the day and doesn’t have any RA duties at night because the university recently handed on-call duties for the campus security to handle. On the other hand, you didn’t have anything scheduled for today and spent the entire day indoors. You’re still in your pajamas – a free shirt from a past school event and old running shorts that you never wore while exercising. There are leftover food delivery containers in your fridge from dinner. You tell him the importance of investing in a tinted sunscreen while pushing up your wired glasses. It’s ironic because he knows you haven’t washed your face today or applied any form of sun protection at all. The closer you lean into him to be sure he understands, the redder his cheeks flush. He hopes his mineral powder is enough to diffuse the blush or at least make it seem like it’s the redness from his acne.

Feeling a little hot, he reaches over to grab his fruit slushie-turned-juice from the coffee table and brings it to his lips. He sucks the concoction through the metal straw, letting the cool liquid settle in his mouth so he can savor it before swallowing. You notice the condensation dripping down his arms before he does, and you wipe it away with the edge of your t-shirt without any thought. Your drink is already long gone, finished within minutes after poking your straw through the flimsy plastic lid, washed and disposed of in your recycling bin. He wonders if the taste of his drink would linger on your tongue if he kisses you. And he wonders how the tangy sourness of his drink would contrast or balance the extra amount of sweetness in your tea.

But you’re done concealing the bruise, already sealed it off with the last layer of setting spray. Satisfied with your job, you plop yourself on the other side of the couch and grab the book you put face-down on the table when DK arrived at your front door. You tuck your legs under you and use the armrest as your elbow support as you resume your novel. DK types the makeup steps into his notes app and quickly cleans up his products, looking for something to do.

DK snakes his head between the open gap between your stomach and your book, putting his head on your chest. You pay him no mind, flipping another page while he thinks of a conversation starter. He relaxes into the feeling of your chest rising and dropping and the steady thumping of your heartbeat pulsing under his ear. He asks you what your novel is about while twiddling with the hem of your shirt, noticing it’s still a bit damp from before.

“Smut,” you nonchalantly answer him. You didn’t know much about the novel, but you borrowed it from your friend who kept raving about it while you visited her the other day. She claimed it was better than sex, but honestly, all you’ve been reading so far are overly detailed descriptions of scenery while the main character stares out of the parked car window.

“But you have me,” he teases you. He lets go of your shirt to poke you on your cheek between each word, “You. Have. Me.”

You swat his hand away from your face and subsequently decide to place your novel on his head to use as a stand. He huffs underneath the book, and you snicker at him, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. You think it’s cute whenever he’s being annoying, throwing tiny tantrums whenever he doesn’t have enough attention. You catch yourself lingering on the thought of what his neediness would be like if the two of you were together.

“I’m too lazy,” you flip another page after letting the thought dissipate. “You’re on your own unless you can find another way to do it.”

He huffs and lifts the novel from his forehead to sit up. He turns to you and untucks your legs from beneath you.

“Continue reading your book. Let me eat you out while you rest,” he tells you while pulling your legs with ease so only your upper back and head is leaning against the couch’s armrest. He rests your legs on each side of him.

“Go ahead, but wouldn’t that be a little boring for you?” you ask him while your eyes are still trained on your novel. Even though you spend a lot of time thinking about him manhandling you, his persona easily makes you forget about just how strong he is.

He grabs a cushion from the middle of the couch and tucks it behind your neck. He asks you if you’re comfortable. You give him a thumbs-up, and he gently pecks your thumb before moving your hand back to your book so you can properly hold your book. His little touches and kisses aren’t new to you, but you think it’d be a shame if his kiss transferred onto your pages instead of keeping it to yourself. You choose to hover your thumb above the pages, choosing to use your hand’s round fleshy thenar to hold the pages.

You lift your hips upwards so he can easily remove your bottoms. He tugs them off you as if he has all the time in the world, folding your shorts and undies and setting them on the coffee table like they’re part of the decoration.

“I don’t think I’d be bored,” he kneels himself in front of you and lowers himself so he’s flat against the couch. He gently lifts your shirt higher so it’s past your belly button and proceeds to hook your legs over his shoulders. “Read to me? Out loud?” he asks you while massaging the outside of your thighs.

You lift your book, looking at him quizzically. However, when you see the tiny fading red mark on his forehead from when you used him as a stand, you can’t help but agree to his request. He lowers his head to your core and quickly taps your thighs twice to tell you to read.

“Now, a black flashy standard motorcycle with matching black chrome wheels pulls into the driveway of the auto shop where your car is currently getting its engine replaced. The steady hum of the engine is enough to have every single mechanic in the vicinity turn their –,” you were doing pretty well at reading until DK, without warning, puts his warm tongue flat against your clit, licking upwards until it reaches your nub. “Ah – h-heads to stare at the bike,” you stumble with the last phrase.

He lets his spit drop at the top of your clit, watching it glide downwards along your ridges before catching it with his tongue like a little game of Plinko. He feels you tense under his tongue, causing him to hum in delight. He mumbles something about you doing good before attaching his tongue to you again.

“One of them whistles when the motorcyclist comes to a full stop in front of the open auto shop garages,” you try to ignore the fact that he’s gently blowing wind to tease you, to hear you stumble across your words. There is no way you are going to cave right when you started reading out loud, so you bite your lip when you feel his soft and open lips close around your labia. But you can’t ignore him no matter how hard you try.

He kisses you deeply, full-mouthed while his large hands lock around your thighs. Painstakingly slowly, he buries his face deeper into your cunt.

“Eungh- O-one of them whistles when the mo- oh,” you moan while your mouth hangs open when he circles the tip of his tongue around your clitoris. You move your novel away to look at DK whose entire face is gone. You can only see his bushy black hair.

He continues to circle his tongue around you while your breathing gets shallower. You feel your arousal building, causing your thighs to close around his head. He looks up at you looking back at him with a lustful expression. He sucks softly on your clitoral hood and pries your thighs open with his hands. He only winks, letting go of your skin through his lips before going back to eating your cunt.

“…motorcyclist can loudly rev his engine,” you manage to finish the paragraph with a little sigh of relief.

“Mmmh. Good job, baby,” he groans, praising you against your cunt.

He kisses the inside of your right thigh while moving your left leg off his right shoulder.

You find yourself frowning just a little bit when you think he’s finished, but truthfully, he’s only moving your leg off the couch so he can finger you while eating you out. He puts his right hand on your stomach and uses his thumb to rub your nub.

“I’ll reward you if you keep reading okay?”

He kisses your stomach and moves your shirt down so you wouldn’t shiver from being cold. If only he knew why you were shivering.

“‘Couldn’t you have driven here?’ you frown at your older brother w- ah- fuck. Fuck,” you jerk in your seat when DK inserts a finger in your cunt. You can feel him smile against you as he drags his tongue against your folds while his finger dips in and out of you knowing exactly how to drag a string of moans from your mouth, to make your legs tremble and shake.

All this, and you’re only half a page into reading out loud.

“…while he reaches between his legs to pass you his extra motorcycle helmet as you approach him,” you read while trying to ignore the fact that you’re gripping your borrowed novel with so much force that you probably bent the matte paperback cover. “He shrugs and passes you the helmet which you – mmm fuck just like that – begrudgingly fit over your head.”

You’re clenched tightly around his two fingers as he curls them in you while sloppily giving you head. You hear exactly how wet you are, how his fingers squelch every time he reinserts them in you, how his coated lips smack against your glistening pussy – devouring you as his life depended on it. You can feel your juices pool around your ass as he uses his left arm to hold you down whenever you lurch upwards. He moans profanities against you, but never at you. When he raises his head to take a break, he makes sure his fingers never stop moving. He always brings you to your high, and you feel so safe with him.

And he tells you you’re sweet. He always does.

Sometimes you’re sweet because he compliments you for doing something for him. He calls you sweet when you’re frowning about somebody criticizing your RBF. You like it when he calls you sweet when he calls you Sweetie. You like it when he says it with flair. You like it when he says it when you show him your project. You like it whenever he says it when you make him take a sip of any of your sugary drinks – the way his face contorts in total disgust, but he still manages to do so with a smile on his face.

He never called you my sweet, but god damn do you wish you could experience what it would feel like for him to call you his. But tonight he describes your flavor as sweet as you like your teas. He can’t stop praising you for how sweet you are, how you’re like dessert on his tongue. And you can’t get him out of your head.

“He leans forward and clicks open the motorcycle’s rear footrests with the back of his boot,” your face scrunches, but you continue. “When he is done, he looks back at you struggling – eungh Kyeom,” you struggle.

He only grips your thigh tighter as he alternates between fingering you and pausing so he can kiss your cunt like he’s kissing you during sex. He flattens his tongue against you and twists it so he can tease your hole. You’re whining and speeding through the last few words of the sentence, desperate to have him in you.

“Whoa. Whoa,” he temporarily detaches himself from you to grab onto your forearm as he raises himself above you. His lips glisten from the wetness, and the color of his flushed face compliment the color of his sore lips. “Slow down baby,” he tells you and kisses your cheek, “Wanna hear your pretty voice, okay? Just read and relax.” He strokes your hair and brushes away the strands covering your eyes, “I’m not going anywhere.”

But you don’t relax. How can you relax when he grips your hips, fingers dipping into your pelvic bone as he shoves his nose against your clitoris, sticking his tongue into your cunt? He bobs his head while he tongue-fucks you, nudging your nub and making your pussy throb even when he briefly comes up for air.

Your vision blurs as he continues to build your high, ignoring you as you continue to call out his name. The words on the page are replaced by stars when you tell him you can’t take it anymore. Heart racing and muscles tightening, you cum while his tongue is in you. And he laps you up as you convulse around him, back arching as you continue to come. He drinks what’s left of you like he’s drinking ice cold water at midnight – you’re insatiable. You moan his name into your book once more, hiccupping as he brings your left leg back on the couch.

“Yn,” he whispers as he removes your book from your face. He puts it on the coffee table without breaking eye contact with you. “What did you call me?”

You don’t hear him as you’re still struggling to catch your breath. Your pussy is still pulsing without pause. Everything is hazy, but you can see him reaching over for something in his cosmetics bag. You close your eyes, still undeniably horny and wanting more.

There is a little bit of shuffling and then the sound of a few light things dropping on the floor. He reaches under you and scoops you up as if you weigh nothing. You briefly remember him telling you about hitting a new PR where he could lift someone a little over his weight. But he brings you to your bed, only switching on your nightstand lamp.

He sits on the side of your bed while he strokes your cheek.

“Yn,” he whispers again while leaning closer to you. “Do you remember what you called me?”

You blink twice at him before slowly realizing. Your lips part in realization, and he only smiles at you.

He opens your nightstand drawer and pulls out a condom and your bottle of lube. Your fingers automatically fly to cover your lips in horror, but he only chuckles at your expression while he positions himself between your legs and leans over you. He coats his wrapped dick in the lube and rubs the remaining gel around your vulva. You whimper at the coldness, and he wipes the remaining bits on his thighs.

He leans over you again and rests his elbows on the sides of your face. He asks you again, gently, if you remember what name you called him.

You nod your head, breath hitching as you stare at him. It’s unfair, you think, to look as pretty as he is under the ugly yellow light your lamp emits. But he looks at you with so much care in the world, and you feel thankful that you’re spending your Tuesday night with him. You thank his lame excuse for intruding on your time for yourself. You thank him for spending time with you, for looking after you, even if he isn’t yours at that moment.

He aligns himself at your entrance while waiting for your answer.

You whisper it almost inaudibly, barely believing yourself as you let the word leave your mouth.

“Say it again,” he instructs you.

“Seokmin.”

You’re not sure if the two of you should have come up with one of those contracts you always read about in books when you first started the relationship. Maybe you should’ve learned from Lara Jean – a binding relationship contract written on notebook paper and signed in pen. There would be a couple of items on the list, a few weird ones, and then a majority of the items being standard ones. Standard item number one? No kissing. Standard item number two? No staying over after sex (sub-line: No cuddling). Standard item number three? No meeting unless it’s for sex. Maybe a weird item would be the option to try pegging. However, the last item on the list? No developing feelings for the other party.

If rules are made to be broken, but contracts signed by people older than eighteen are legally binding, then you would’ve been in jail by now.

His lips are locked against yours, groaning your name as he wraps your legs around his waist. He nibbles along your jaw as he makes love to you, slowly pushing deep inside you so you can feel his balls lay flush against your ass, feeling all of him in you. You call his name through a choked sob, your hands roaming around to find something to grab. Anything.

Your fingers find the back of his head, and you pull on his hair. And he flips like a switch, immediately pounding into you over and over again, praising you and calling you his.

Tonight, the rules have definitely been broken. And you’re starting to realize this isn’t the first offense.

.

“Okay so, I didn’t want to take it off because I wanted to see if my makeup would smudge, but I did it because I knew I was going to get hot.”

“Omg he wanted to keep his shirt on. He’s so quirky!”

“Stoppp,” he laughs while he passes the showerhead to you. “I can’t believe you’re the only person who tried to tell me a joke during sex.”

“It’s because I’m the only person you’ve ever had sex with,” you stick your tongue out at him while you rinse the body wash you previously bought with DK off your body.

“You too,” he retorts while turning around so you can rinse the soap off his body for him.

He grabs your shampoo from your hanging wire basket and plops a dollop into his hand. He tells you to look up while he lathers it in his hand before he brings his hands to massage your scalp. His fingers feel amazing while he massages you, so you close your eyes in the process, hoping to keep the shampoo out of your eyes.

He thinks you look like one of those dogs from the pictures you find online where the owner sticks a metal head massager on their heads. Your eyes are closed in contentment, and there’s a lazy smile on his face that he only gets to see so often. He can’t help himself but sneak a little kiss on your lips while he piles your hair into a mountain so that you look like that one guy from the first Incredibles movie.

You open your eyes to look at him, but you see that he’s purposely looking away, pretending to be interested in something else. You try to follow his eyes, but your eyes land on something dark crawling down the wall above DK’s head.

Being you, you blatantly point out the descending spider, and DK screams, slips, and crashes onto the tiled floor. Your bath products tumble down after him. You sigh, knowing you’ll have to clean up the mess and drive him to school tomorrow instead of sending him off tonight.

.

“Aww you care for me,” Dokyeom coos while you fuss over the ice pack on his ankle.

“I’m just making sure my Sybian isn’t too damaged,” you scoff at him.

You thought you would spend the night with a cozy book in bed while you wait for your face mask to dry. However, you find yourself blow-drying DK’s hair, letting him borrow one of your old t-shirts, and nursing his badly bruised ankle. It’s a wonder how he somehow didn’t end up spraining it after that nasty fall. You could’ve sworn you heard the cartoon swishing sounds while he tried not to slip.

Not to mention, he somehow talked you into cuddling with him in bed through several lame excuses.

Q. What if I fell off the bed?

A. Fuck, then pick yourself up I guess.

Q. What if I sprained my dick?

A. We have toys.

He wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Although, you have to admit it feels very nice to sit in bed with him with his left arm around your waist while the two of you silently scroll through your phones. He leans his head on your shoulder and hugs you from the side. You tilt your phone towards him so he could watch you tap through your friends’ stories. You can tell he’s more needy than usual, probably from climaxing more than once in one night and then undergoing the shower incident following right after – he screamed while you crumpled the spider in a wad of tissue. He’s latching onto you like a parasite, but he does give you good dick so you think it’s more like a symbiotic relationship. The way he’s clinging to you makes you think it is what it feels like to be trapped under one of those large teddy bears you can buy at warehouse retail stores. 

He asks you if you’re going to the party on the weekend after you tap through the story of a mutual friend. You tell him you are.

“Be my date to the party?” he asks you.

You think he forgot you always go to parties with Jun and Chan.

“No thank you,” you politely decline his request, “I don’t do party dates.”

He pushes himself off of you, “Why not?”

“Because all of my past dates always left me for their friends and I would just spend every single party alone,” you grumble thinking about how many times you ended up taking care of drunk people you didn’t know because you ended up being sober the whole time.

“But I wouldn’t leave you.”

“There!” you exclaim while pointing your finger at him, “That’s what they all said to me.”

He frowns and crosses his arms, kind of upset you would think he would ever leave your side.

“Date or not I’m still not going to leave your side,” he grumbles while slinking down so he lays on the bed. He turns his body away from you to sulk.

The ice pack falls off his leg and tumbles to the ground. He continues to lay on the bed, not doing anything to pick it up so he can ice himself.

You know how stubborn he can be, especially when his pride is mixed in the equation. Part of you is proud he is sticking through being moody by refusing to move. However, you know how soft he is. If his future kid got a paper cut, he would probably end up crying harder than his kid. His kid would probably end up consoling him. His ankle must feel like pins and needles are sticking into it without the icepack, and he can’t do anything to distract the pain because his phone is out of his reach.

“Kyeom,” you gently shake his body. “You have to ice your ankle.”

He only shakes you off and brings his legs to his chest.

Usually, you would smack him with a pillow and call him dumb, but you think he’s suffered enough damages for the day. You know if you continue asking him to ice his ankle, he would just ignore you. So, you think either climbing on top of him or tricking him into breaking would be better choices. You choose the latter.

“Sigh,” you say out loud, pretending to talk to yourself. “If DK is sleeping then that means I’ll have nobody to cuddle with while I talk about my slutty costume choices.”

You see him slowly turn his head to look at you in the corner of your eye, but he quickly averts your gaze and turns his head back to its original position. You find yourself smiling at his action. He’s like a literal child. A puppy.

“Aww I thought Kyeom wanted to cuddle all night, but I guess I have to go to sleep because he’s asleep,” you tell him while leaning over him to check on him.

You see he’s pretending to sleep. He squints his eyes shut. His lips are poutier than usual, pressed in a thin line to probably stop himself from speaking.

“Maybe I’ll go sleep on the living room couch by myself so he can be more comfortable by himself,” you slowly move off the bed by trying to cross over his body.  

“Noo,” he wails while sitting up to grab you. He immediately yanks you back down, trapping you in his arms. “How slutty is it, Yn? HOW SLUTTY?”

.

You have your morning lab in a few hours, but you’re standing alone in your dark kitchen with your head stuck in the freezer. The only source of direct light comes from your freezer, and you’re glad you’ve lived in your place long enough to navigate in the dark. The green digital clock digits flash on your oven. It’s getting close to 4:00 am, but you can’t sleep.

The icepack, or more like a water pack at this point, left a giant wet spot on your carpet while it thawed. It now sits in a lumped form in the side door, wedged between a frozen loaf of bread and some microwavable pizza bagels. The coldness of the freezer feels nice on your skin, but it’s not enough to make you feel numb.

You feel hot and stuffy, and your mind has a million thoughts running around at once. You make him tell you why you should be his date to a stupid costume party, and he tells you he likes you. However, his dumbass knocks out immediately after while he’s still holding you tight in his arms. You’re left alone with your thoughts and a pounding heart while you wait for him to finally let go of you when he is asleep.

Truthfully, you want to tear your hair out. It’s not like you couldn’t wake him up to make him tell you whether or not he finished his sentence. However, you think you’ve already tested his patience enough in one day. You would trust his “I like you” more if he told you while he was drunk, but telling you and then immediately knocking out? You really don’t know if it could count as a confession.

So now you whisper scream into a frozen bag of mixed vegetables while you think about everything that happened this night. You think about him showing up at your door. You think about the hickies he leaves between your thighs. You think about the way he kisses you after you moan his name.

“Seokmin,” find yourself whispering his name.

You don’t understand how this name is so different from the others, but your fingers softly touch your lips as if you just whispered something you weren’t supposed to say. 

“Aww I get it. Jane Goodall. That’s so cute.”

“This is NOT a couple’s costume. I am clearly a hiker,” Chan angrily grumbles at the passerby while dumping another scoop of ice into the glass fishbowl on the kitchen island. He takes out his red handkerchief to wipe his hands and places it around his neck when he’s done.

“Why are you annoyed that people think you’re Jane Goodall? She’s one of the greatest scientists of our time. Do you not appreciate our women scientists? Women in STEM?” Jun asks him while he pops another sour gummy worm into his mouth. He licks the sour and sugary coating off his fingers one by one and wipes them dry on his monkey onesie.

You grab the bag of gummies from the table and dump the rest into the bowl. You tap and shake the edge of the bag until all of the remaining sugar falls into the bowl. Jun quickly plucks a worm out of the bowl before Chan turns around with a bottle of blue curacao in one hand and a bottle of coconut rum in the other hand. Chan insists on making fish bowls at parties for the three of you to share because he refuses to drink the jungle juice Jeonghan and Joshua make for parties. No matter how many times the two show Chan how they clean the giant clear plastic storage container they use for the juice, Chan absolutely refuses to drink from it. He argues that it’s a breeding ground for bacteria from people scooping the liquid with their cups, but Jeonghan dumbly replies that the amount of alcohol in the jungle juice should be enough to kill the germs.

By the time you’re done saying hello to some friends, Chan is already done making the bowl. He takes off his sunglasses and hangs it from his blue and grey colored top, looking at his creation with satisfaction. He swirls the bright blue concoction with three straws and tops it off with a paper umbrella toothpick he found in Jeonghan’s kitchen cabinets. Bon appétit.

The bright blue concoction stains your tongue, but it gives you a really nice buzz before you know how its aftereffects will hit you like a giant tsunami later. However, any precautious thought about getting too drunk and waking up with a massive hangover gets thrown out the window when Chan reminds you that the reason why the three of you took a ride-share cab is that you wantedto get fucked up. So the three of you smile and continue drinking.

.

The three of you are about two-thirds into finishing the fish bowl when you see DK and his friends stumble through the front door. DK’s dressed in the same slutty fireman costume he wears – the firefighter suit hanging low on his hips with the shoulder straps dangling, the hose on his shoulder, and the white tank top decorated with streaks of ash. You see Jeonghan greet him with a jello shot in his hand. The firefighter takes it from him and swirls his tongue around the perimeter of the jello, loosening it from the tiny container, and knocks it back swiftly in one go. He passes the container back to Jeonghan with no amount of blue raspberry flavored gelatin remaining on the inside. And all you can do is stare at him with your straw in your mouth while your friends attempt to play Jenga in their buzzed states.

It’s not long before you take your eyes off DK and realize that you finished the rest of the bowl by yourself. You tap in while Jun taps out of the game so he can happily scoop the slimy gummies out of the bowl and into his mouth. The tower looks jagged enough that one knee bumping against the table leg can easily knock the tower over. Shrek places their block on top of the tower with a shaky hand and sighs when the tower doesn’t topple over. A vampire bites their lip as they remove a side piece from the middle. You hold your breath as they slowly wiggle the piece loose, frowning when they successfully take it out of the stack and add it to the tower.

All eyes are on you as you hover your hand next to the piece that you want. You think if you take out that specific piece, you would make the tower a bit more balanced when it comes to how it leans. It also makes it harder for Chan to pull out a piece because he would end up shifting the balance if he pulled a block. Everything is in your favor – from the EDM song shuffling to a club song to your friends watching you silently – there is nothing that shouldn’t rule in your favor.

However, somebody behind you shrieks your name, and the tower topples. A few filled shot glasses are immediately placed in front of you, and everybody’s phone cameras are pointed at you, waiting to record you taking the shots. You sigh before bringing the first shot up to your mouth. You didn’t even get to touch the Jenga piece.

The perpetrator who stands behind you cheers the loudest every time you tip each empty shot glass over your head. He raises your hand in triumph and hugs you from behind your seat. The tsunami that’s been building up in the distance crashes. And by the end of it, you’re good as gone.

.

He tells you that no matter how comfortable his shoulder may feel at that moment, you do need to sit up and drink some water. And DK, for what seems like the nth time, hands you a bottle of water to drink.

He thanks the person who passed him the water bottle and stops for a minute. He points at him while scanning his outfit. “Hiker,” he finally decides on his answer.

“THANK YOU,” Chan yells at him while slapping him repeatedly on the back, unaware of his own strength, making DK flinch a little. Chan drunkenly decides that DK will become the fourth  person to drink from his fishbowl. He drags Jun, who is chatting up Trixie from the Fairly Odd Parents, with him to the kitchen to make a fresh batch.

DK is the type of person to make you forget, but not in a forgetful type of way. He makes you forget about your troubles. He makes you forget about the resident knocking on his door while the two of you hide in bed together. He makes you forget you’re at a house party in a room full of people. At that moment it’s just you leaning on his shoulder with his arm wrapped securely around you. None of you are hiding the fact that there’s something budding between the both of you. It feels nice, liberating even.

“Hi baby. You doing okay?” he asks you after making sure you drank until the waterline hit the top of the plastic label despite him being extremely drunk.

“I like it when you call me baby,” you mumble while falling back onto his shoulder, feeling yourself slowly sober up.

“Yeah?”

“But don’t tell anybody or else I’ll have your head,” you turn your head and glare at him.

“I’m not sure if that was a sexual reference or maybe you’ve been reading too many isekai mangas that Jun sends you,” he chuckles while laying your head on his shoulder. He almost sighs in relief when you don’t blame him for you losing Jenga earlier.

He gives an okay signal to any passerby who asks if you’re doing alright. 

“You weren’t by my side the whole time I was here. You’re a liar. Slutty liar.”

“I’m horrible aren’t I?” he kisses the top of your head.

“The worst.”

You never knew what “a beat” indicates in screenplays. You didn’t get why the screenwriter would want to indicate a pause. Nothing that you experienced in your life ever indicated a pause in the conversation. But now you understand. There are so many things you want to say, things you’re too afraid to say. You have questions for him, but you’re also happy he’s on your side. Maybe a “beat” is a filler. This pause in the conversation, you staring at him – eyes trying not to waver to his lips – it’s a mutual understanding between the two of you, something that makes up for what words cannot say. 

“I need to pee.”

.

Now is definitely not a good time to be confused about whether you need to pee or if you’re simply horny.

Tonight the two of you are sloppy, bodies pressed against each other in the quiet hallway of a house party. Someone occupies the hallway bathroom, and you’re leaning with your back against the wall. DK stands in front of you with his left forearm leaning against the wall in the space next to your right ear. He kisses along your jawline, nipping the base of your neck. The softness of his lips caresses your skin, blending into the waves while you slur your moans. He hushes you by covering his lips over yours. You prefer him closer to you so you reach behind his head to pull him into you. His mouth opens, and your tongue glosses over his. He meets you in the middle, circling his around yours and groaning when you tug on his lower lip with your teeth. Your hand roams across his chest, and he pushes into your thigh, grinding against you. Both of you are too drunk, too lost in each other to care if others are looking.

He pulls his head back and looks at you with a hooded gaze. He can’t believe the sight in front of him and the ache he feels inside of him. He leans his head against the side of your ear, nipping softly at your lobe before talking to you in a low voice, “I want to pin you against the wall with your legs wrapped around my waist while I whisper every single thought I’m having about you into your ear. I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk out of this party without me supporting you. Everybody passing by will see how well you take me while you beg for me to pound into you deeper and harder. Then, you’d have to say goodbye to all of your friends while trying to keep my cum from leaking out of your sore pussy. I want to be able to open your legs and see it seeping out of you while I fuck it into you again in the car.”

Another beat.

This time it’s different. You feel your knees buckle underneath his body, sliding slightly down the wall. You look at his face hovering over yours, practically begging him to kiss you again. Anything. But he doesn’t. The two of you stay silent while you hear cheers from the living room. Then he proceeds to pull away as if nothing happened between you. He has the dopiest grin on his face. He cheeses at you – tiny wrinkles at the edge of his eyes and his pearly whites in full view. You’re still struggling to process the stream of consciousness he spoke into your ear.

“I like your pizza costume,” he giggles while poking your costume, especially the edges of the crust that hang off your shoulders.

“I bought it because I thought it might humor you,” you mumble while he takes your hands in his.

You see how much he’s gushing with happiness. You think he’s so cute, happy that your costume has such a positive effect on him. But you’re slightly annoyed that he’s able to move onto a different subject so quickly while you’re still stuck on the last one. You want more.

However, he tells you he really likes you and leans in to peck your cheek. When he pulls back, the bathroom door opens, and out steps Lee Jihoon who immediately grabs DK by his left ear and drags him away from you. “No fucking in the hallway,” he reprimands his friend.

DK only smiles at you while he’s being pulled away by his ear, too drunk to care, two finger hearts pointed directly at you.

You can only stand next to the vacant bathroom, now soberer than ever and seriously turned on.

You wake up on the floor next to your bed and slowly push yourself off the carpet, feeling the soreness in your body. You look at the carpet indents in your arm and then your surroundings. You notice your bed is empty, and Chan is asleep in his extra set of clothes, sprawled on the floor near your bedroom door. You can’t remember what happened in the latter half of the night, but you can at least deduce that all of you were at least sober enough to change out of your costumes and get ready for bed.

Your body is sore from sleeping on your floor, and you still feel pretty groggy. Still, the sweet scent of something coming from the kitchen is enough to convince you to walk outside instead of moving onto your bed to sleep some more. You stand up, knees cracking loudly, and you cross over Chan to exit your bedroom. You think it’s Jun who’s cooking, but you see him in his monkey onesie, passed out next to your rack of shoes near your entrance with a spare blanket covering him.

At least he has a blanket, you think to yourself. You woke up cold and with nothing covering you.

You see him standing in front of your toaster, wearing the extra set of clothes he keeps at your place. You see him place waffles into your toaster, minding his business while he hums to himself.

“Why are you here?” you approach him and stand by his side. You can see used wine glasses in the sink and opened chip bags you don’t remember buying sitting on the counter. The four of you probably continued drinking after arriving at your apartment. You hope there’s nobody else sleeping in your place.

“I dunno,” DK shrugs and proceeds to greet you by pulling you into his arms while he stands behind you, keeping a close eye on the frozen waffles.

You don’t get how he can look like he didn’t spend all of last night drinking. He looks completely refreshed with the kind of glow, an aura, you have after a good workout…not that you ever experienced what it must be like. He just looks like one of those smiling actors in fitness commercials.

You can feel his chest rumble against your back as he tells you he’s sorry he couldn’t cook something better for the four of you because he’s been living in the dorms for years. He honestly hasn’t touched a stove since he went home last summer. However, he did perfect cooking frozen food in microwaves and toasters. It’s the least he can do. He also quickly adds that he’s sorry he’s cooking all of your frozen waffles and would gladly reimburse you. You tell him to fuck off. There’s no way you would ever make him pay you back for making breakfast. He should know that by now.

The toaster pops, scaring you a little. A long yawn follows, and DK chuckles at you rubbing your eyes. He removes the waffles from the toaster and tells you to close your eyes. You dumbly follow, believing he’s going to kiss you when he cups your face in his hands. Instead, he rubs the inner corner of your eyes with his thumbs. “Eye boogers,” he says.

“Gross,” you watch him flick them to the ground.

“You thought that I was going to kiss you, huh,” he teases you while adding more frozen waffles into the toaster.

You grumble at him and stand to the side, leaning against your fridge. Your arms are crossed, and you watch him go back to humming the song he was humming before. It’s the same song playing from the speakers when the three of you decide to bring DK back to your apartment as there was no way he would have been allowed on campus in his state. It was partly Chan’s fault for getting him so fucked up – he couldn’t find regular vodka for the bowl so he replaced it with some Everclear he found tucked away under the sink. Jun tells him he really needs to stop snooping in Jeonghan’s cabinets. That’s when your memory starts to clear.

“Do you happen to remember what you told me before Jihoon dragged you away?” you curiously ask him.

You expect him to deny the memory or laugh at your sudden boldness, but he tells you that he knows better than to drink to the point where he blacks out and loses his memory. He would also like to stay true to his word, all of it.

“If you’re going to fuck in the kitchen, at least give us the waffles first,” Jun groans from the hallway.

DK winks at you in response, but you don’t know if he was referring to his second confession or if he promised the reality of his sexual fantasy. Before you can clarify, Jun appears in the kitchen, opening the dishwasher to grab a ceramic plate.

It shouldn’t be this confusing. DK told you that he liked you twice. You’re also pretty sure you like him. Nevertheless, it’s DK. He tends to joke around and switch from topic to topic. He throws words of affirmation at everybody he talks with. He confuses you even when you feel like you shouldn't be confused. 

“God Yn. You can’t be doing this to me.”

He sits upright, and his hands are positioned to his sides, tightly gripping his bedsheets.

You use his thighs as your support as you ride him, slowly bouncing up and down so he can watch his cock appear and disappear into your cunt.

You feel him twitching in you as you let soft moans float out of your mouth as you arch your back more and lean your head back toward the ceiling. You make sure you gyrate your hips switching between circular and back and forth motions as you continue to fuck yourself on his cock. He wonders how your soft mewls would break into staccato moans if you were to continuously bounce on him, letting lust cloud his thoughts.

Then you lean further backward, practically grinding on him. He feels your ass rub against his balls, and he does everything he can to restrain himself from rutting himself upwards into your cunt. He knows your thighs are tired as your breathing gets heavier and the way you grind against him gets messier. You sit on him, your whole body trembling and twitching from pleasure simply from the feeling of him fitting so snugly inside you. He feels so warm today, so good, stretching you nicely as you tell him all he needs to do is to sit there and look pretty. You reward him by sitting upright, guiding his hands from behind his back so they rest on your ass. He kneads them roughly, feeling your skin fill the spaces between his fingers.

Your ass cheeks feel sore, and you can’t stop panting when grind on him, rocking him so crudely that his bed begins to squeak. You bring a hand in front of you to start rubbing your nub, and high-pitched whimpers instantaneously escape your mouth. Your soft circular motions increase speed, attacking your soft flesh and making you forget he’s in you.

“Hng Seok,” your face is scrunched in pleasure, “Fucking myself feels so good.” You smirk at him as you ride out your high, knowing very well it would piss him off. You can tell he’s already a little upset you’re fucking him in cowgirl when he doesn’t get to do anything but sit there. 

Annoyed, he brings his right hand upwards and brings it down quickly against your ass. The crisp slap rings throughout his empty room, and he feels you clench around him as you gasp out loud. He slaps your ass again, finding deep pleasure in watching you pulse and quake around him and hearing you moan. 

You lift yourself slightly upwards, having regained some energy, and reach under you to grab the base of his shaft. You watch his face contort from annoyance to surprise to pleasure as you stroke him, squeezing and releasing incrementally as you simultaneously fuck his upper half. 

You can tell he is about to cum when he starts reaching for your face. He wants to make out with you, to dig his fingers into your back as you suck his neck. He moans your name, cavernous and gutturally, and tells you you’re doing so well. His sweet, sweet baby. The way you’re fucking him makes him go feral. 

Just then, there is a knock on his door, and he immediately pushes you off of him, practically hopping off his bed so he can run to his door barefooted and naked. He tells them to wait a minute as he’s wrapping something up. 

You sigh, quickly following behind him so you can hide in his closet, already used to having his residents show up out of the blue. You hand him his sweater and a pair of shorts before climbing into his closet and closing the doors behind you. 

You hear him open his door a minute later. You’re not sure what the topic of their conversation is as everything sounds muffled. You hear DK tell them that he has to grab a few things first, and then he’ll meet them in their room. He closes his front door and opens his closet. 

He looks worried. You observe it must be something important or an emergency as he doesn’t bother to make himself look presentable or deodorize the smell of sex lingering on his skin. He tells you he’s sorry and that he’ll try to be quick. He kisses you on the forehead before leaving with his stuff. However, he tells you you’re welcome to leave. And you sit there in his closet, alone and naked, the spot on your forehead burning. The motion-sensor lights in his bedroom turn themselves off, and you know you’re fucked by the way he gave you a choice to leave instead of telling you, begging you, finding stupid ways to get you to stay like he always does. 

Your feelings are hurt, and you’re pathetically close to tears. Why is it that every time you look at him or talk to him, it feels like you have to stop yourself from having your confession burst out of your mouth? “I like you” always feels like it’s sitting on the tip of your tongue, and you’re too scared to confess to him. 

It’s dark inside the closet, but you’ve been in his room enough times to know what’s hanging above you and sitting beside you. His business shirts are hanging above your head. On the other side of the closet, he has his pants. They’re organized by fabric type and colors. The jeans hang on the far right side of the closet. The sweats and athletic tights are next. Then he has his business pants. Dark colors are on the right, and light colors are on the left. His clothing hanger hooks are always hung over the closet rod, never under. Yet, at this moment, everything feels so foreign, like you’re a new person in a new place. But it’s because you are a different person now – a person who has fallen for their friends with benefits. 

The metal front door whirs and clicks open. You can hear the automatic lights flicker. He tells you he’s alone and that you can come out as he sees your stuff in his room. You’re not replying. 

“Shit Yn,” he opens his closet to find you still sitting in the dark closet, staring into nothing. “Aren’t you cold?”

You shake your head.

“Did you go pee? You should go pee,” he says expressionlessly. There’s not an ounce of care present in his suggestion.  

He leaves your side and stalks over to his bed, throwing himself on it. He loudly groans into a pillow to rid some of his stress. You can only climb out of the closet, your jaw clenched. “I like you! I like you a lot” is still in your mouth, taunting you, threatening to escape. 

“Is he done yet?”

“Bro he literally just started. Have a little more faith in Chan, okay?” you mumble at Jun while looking at your phone. You lock the screen and place your phone face down on the table.

Today is a day for firsts. It is the first time Jun and you are trying the café across the nice-looking residential building near campus. It’s the first time you try an iced mint mojito coffee when you usually have its alcoholic counterpart. It’s the first time Jun had a professor cancel class this semester. It’s also the first time Chan hooks up with somebody he met on the dating app Jun set up for him. It’s also the first time you’ll openly admit that Jun somehow has the most “game” compared to the three of you. Strange universe.

Jun knows something is bothering you. Your comebacks have become snarkier, yet you’ve been more lenient with whatever he does around you. He once told you to pay for the three of your dinners, and you passed him your credit card without saying anything. And it’s not like DK hasn’t been becoming less of the topic of your conversations - you’ve been quieter. And he doesn’t know what’s going on because he’s scared you might punch him. So he doesn’t ask you and only looks around the café’s nice interior, choosing to count the number of glossy white honeycomb tiles on the wall.

“How can you walk up to somebody and ask them out even though you don’t know them?” you blurt loudly at him out of the blue.

“Me?” Jun dumbly asks you. He already forgot the tile number he was on.

You nod your head while you bring your drink up to your lips.

He leans back into his chair and crosses his arms.

“You know how blunt I am.”

You nod your head, recounting all of the times he was called out for his bluntness.

“I think you already know how I can sometimes rub people off in the wrong way because I accidentally say things that I don’t mean. Sometimes people like you understand me and sometimes people don’t. I guess it’s like people liking you? Sometimes people will like my bluntness and sometimes it comes off in the wrong way. So I think it’s the same for liking people? You either like somebody or you don’t? So I’ll ask anybody out as long as I’m interested in them because the answer is always a simple yes or no.”

You’re so confused.

“You literally jumped from one topic to another. I literally could not follow you at all,” you blink.

“Well I’m sorry,” he throws his hands up in defeat. He’s not used to giving helpful advice nor is he used to having people go to him for advice. He wonders if he should start counting the number of chairs in the café.

He remembers an interaction he had in front of your apartment building last week. He was surprised that DK would call him and ask if he could meet him in front of your apartment. Jun told him that Yn is home and that he could just knock on your door, but DK unequivocally rejected his idea and told Jun to come. Jun saw him walking back in forth in front of your apartment building sign with a bunch of ugly roses in his hand, obviously stressed out of his mind. He asked him what was wrong.

“I dunno. I think they’ve been avoiding me for some reason,” DK tells Jun once he feels calmer with the older boy around him. 

“But they’re literally wilting, bro,” Jun tells DK with clear judgment in his voice. “Some of the petals are black. I’d avoid you if you gave me wilting roses,” he points at all the petals with darkened tips and wrinkles.

“Yn will like them,” DK insists. “They think they look cool like that.”

Jun brought them to your apartment for DK, not wanting to ask or press him for more information. Although, he would have to admit it was a bit confusing to have DK ask him to deliver the flowers for him. Albeit, you are pretty scary when you’re mad. You were pretty enthusiastic when you saw the flowers in his hand, but you immediately slammed the door on him when he told you they were from DK. However, you did open your door again to let him use your restroom.

“Do you like DK but you’re having trouble figuring out whether or not he likes you?” Jun cautiously approaches you with his question.

You nod and spill your troubles to your best friend. You tell him about the two times he told you he liked you and about the day you hid in his closet. You tell him about the roses – how he didn’t text you or leave you a card so that you don’t know why he bought the roses and why he couldn’t deliver them himself. You tell him about the “not a date” dates and how he calls you pet names.

Jun tells you it sounds confusing, but it’s actually pretty normal to fall for your friend with benefits especially if you have a strong emotional connection. That’s how normal people fall in love. He feels for you and understands how confusing it must be for you when the two of you have basically skipped the dating part and landed in the married for thirty years part of the relationship without being in a relationship.

“But isn’t it tiring have to hide?” he asks you. “How many times did you have to hide because of a resident? How many times did you have to fake not knowing him or not liking him whenever you saw somebody flirting with him?”

“Too many times,” you admit. It’s exhausting.

Jun only nods and grabs his set of keys from the café table. He pulls out his wallet from his back pocket, “Lemme buy you dessert while I pay for Chan’s ‘congrats on your first hook-up’ cake.”

You stare at your friend, “You aren’t going to give me helpful advice?” You’re dumbfounded.

“Who do I look like to you? Yahoo answers? Reddit? If you want helpful advice, suck it up and tell him that you need to talk to him and talk. It’s going to eat you alive before your future cats get to eat you.”

Fuck. Jun’s right.

Today is a weird day for firsts.

“But I literally just nutted,” DK tells you while you storm into his dorm.

He’s shirtless and is wearing those grey sweatpants that ride dangerously low on his hips. He looks like he just woke up from a nap, his hair messy and matted. A bottle of unscented lotion sits on his nightstand.

“Did you want to shower or do laundry with me later?” he asks you, letting his door shut behind him. He follows you to his bed. “Did you want to get dinner with me? We have a while until Chan’s night class ends. I know you usually wait for him so you can walk home with him.”

You sit on the edge of his bed and pat the space next to you, telling him to sit next to you. He sits next to you and looks at you with a worried expression.

“I’m going to be honest, I don’t think I have it in me to fuck right now unless you find a way to help me get it up,” he confesses while scratching the back of his ear. He’ll say anything to fill the awkward silence, but he’s glad to see you after being out of touch for a week.

He sees you frowning, and his breath hitches when you turn to him.

“You confuse me DK,” your voice wavers. “I like you so much, but you keep on sending me mixed signals by telling me you like me and then acting like nothing happened. And then you’re so kind to me, and you call me those names while constantly treating me like I’m in a relationship with you when I’m not.”

“Oh, Yn,” his lip quivers.

“You don’t understand how much I like you, how much I want to stop being friends with benefits with you. But you confuse me so much. Your kindness is confusing and I wish you were meaner so I wouldn’t have fallen for you…why are you crying?” you slap his bicep.

He flinches in pain from the slap because he’s still shirtless, but the tears keep running down his face.

“I’m sorry,” he cries while clutching his arm. “I thought I was being straightforward with my feelings, but I hurt you instead,” he wails, “I’ve started liking you longer than you could imagine.”

You don’t know how to react to him crying while confessing, so you awkwardly get up and walk over to his mini fridge to bring him one of his frozen sponge packs to ice his arm.

.

You kiss him back before closing his large metal dormitory door behind you. His keypad whirs and clicks its automatic lock into place, and you make your way to the hallway elevators, giddy on the inside.

You make your way past all the bright green dormitory doors and stop in front of the elevators. At the side of the elevator is the large classroom bulletin board with DK’s stupid laminated face smiling at you. This time the board is sky blue. You can recognize the clouds glued onto the board anywhere – they’re sheep repurposed into clouds from when he did the board about sleep facts. Hot air balloons decorate the board. Expensive cardstock letters spell the title: Love is in the air, and so are STDs! You snicker at the tiny rips in the blue background from students ripping off the taped condoms to use for themselves before stepping into the elevator.

Your phone in your pocket buzzes when you step out of the elevator and exit the dormitory. You pull out your phone while standing outside. It’s a text from DK. He says he’s been waiting for a while now, but he wants to be a bit selfish tonight. He asks you if you’re free this Friday night even though he knows your schedule like the back of his hand. He sends another text to let you know he’s horny again, but he missed you. A lot. 

Stepping to the side to let other residents in and out of the dorm, you make your way along the front of the dormitory so you stop under his window. You see him looking out to check if you made it out of the building. You wave at him and hold your phone up for him to see while giving him a thumbs up. He triumphs when he realizes you're agreeing to go on a real date with him, and you laugh when you see his figure disappear when he trips while jumping. He comes back to his window with a shirt on this time. He waves goodbye to you, and you wave back with a large smile on your face. This time the smile doesn’t drop. 

#seventeen smut #svt smut #dk smut #seokmin smut #dk x reader #seokmin x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #dk imagines #seokmin imagines #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #✏️ ━ himbocoups

[bogleech]

https://twitter.com/100legs_NP/status/1623165297871171584 How can you not love everything about this mite? Its spiny little fat legs, its clockwork walk, its jelly candy transparency, what a flawlessly satisfying animal. I want it to be big enough to pick up like a kitchen sponge :( It’s so tiny, every time its body brushes the wet ground it wicks up a layer of water that changes its transparency. Ridiculous! It’s smaller than a sand grain but it is a whole animal with a brain and senses. You can see that it’s looking for something or other and it stops to clean itself! It felt dirty! It’s smaller than a grain of sand and it stopped what it was doing just to wash its hands!!!

Then at the end of the video is an even different guy who is equally good. I wish I lived in this tiny moist world so bad it makes me hate everything else. Everything else in the world is awful!!!!!!!

#nature #animals

[writingforrhys]

soft, sweet bedtime sex with rhysie please?

- can i be 🌷 anon?

of course you can, my love. thank you for wanting to stick around! i look forward to seeing you again x

Reward

rhysand x reader contents: pure smut my friends

masterlist

"Right there, oh Gods, right there."

A hum came from the male between your thighs. He had wanted to treat you especially well tonight, as if he didn't every night already. You'd been working a ridiculous amount recently. Rhys had been hellbent on making you his High Lady, but you didn't want to stop your work as a healer.

You compromised with him that you would take on the role as long as you still got to help as many people as you had before. You hadn't stopped working the past couple of weeks; from hailing in every Illyrian brute that took training too far to nursing post-natal females back to health.

He watched you walk through the door every night, too exhausted from work to stand up, but always with that sleepy, satisfied smile on your face. You deserved a big reward, he decided.

He'd run you a bath with rose petals and bubbles and candles, and had treated you to the best back massage you'd ever received. His thumbs worked into the knots in your neck, prying moans and squeaks from you that he revelled in, and he had run a soapy sponge over your body, cleaning and kissing your body as he went.

Now, you were laying on top of the sheets, hair still wet, as he licked and sucked at your cunt. His tongue ran from your soaked entrance to your clit, skilfully applying just the right amount of pressure to bring you to your climax.

When one particular movement sent shivers all the way down your spine and created an explosion at your core, you grabbed onto his onyx hair and released a loud wail.

"I know, baby," You could feel his smirk on your pussy, "That's a good girl. Let it all out."

"Rhys, please." You panted.

"Please what?"

"Please fuck me, Rhys." You were desperate, gasping as air refused to fill your lungs, legs shaking around his head.

"Oh, darling. Look at you," He grabbed your thighs and placed them around his waist instead, moving his body up to meet yours. His cock brushed delicately against you, drawing a delicious mewl from your lips, "Don't worry, I'm gonna take such good care of my High Lady."

You melted further into the bed as his lips found purchase on your neck, travelling down, down, down, until his lips latched around your nipple, nipping gently at the swollen bud. He ran his hands over your waist and down to your hips, rubbing with his thumbs gently.

He released his hold on your breast, instead opting for planting a kiss on your lips. He was loving, tender. His tongue swiped your bottom lip before entering your mouth, meeting yours delicately, instead of the fervour he usually approached with.

You were too distracted by his mouth to notice him reach one hand down to his length, stroking himself before positioning the tip and sinking into you.

The feel of him filling you was euphoric, hands reaching to scratch down his back and grab at what you could. Your body arched up into him as you both moaned together, his a deep, guttural growl.

"Fuck, I could never get bored of this feeling." He groaned and began to rock back and forth, teasing you with his cock, pulling out all the way to his tip and sheathing himself inside of you over and over again.

"Oh, Rhys," You moaned, "So fucking good - shit."

You bucked your hips, matching his rhythm. Your bodies moved together, a rhythm you'd perfected over time together, yet somehow always better than the last time you'd fucked. But this, this wasn't fucking. He was loving you. Doting on you and waiting hand and foot.

"That's it, my mate. Fuck yourself on me." He choked out.

He continued his movements, rubbing your walls exquisitely. You became a flurry of hands and mouths, grabbing and kissing and sucking. You were so desperate for him, your body begging to intertwine with his. Nothing was enough for you.

Moans and whines filled the wide expanse of the dark room as Rhys brought you to an orgasm over and over, watching as the sweat dripped down your forehead from the heat between your writhing bodies.

"My dirty girl," A grit from between his teeth, "Fucking love you like this, underneath me."

And you never wanted to be anywhere else.

#rhysand oneshot #rhysand smut #rhysand acotar #rhysand imagine #rhysand x reader #rhysand x you #rhys imagine #rhys x reader #acotar imagine #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut #acotar oneshot #acotar fic

[daisies-daydreams]

Overload (TF 141 x F!Autistic!Reader)

Original Request (AO3): 141 x autistic!reader who's hypersensitive and moody to too much noise or texture? 🥺 these are so sweet you write them all so well and open minded 🖤

Pairing: Task Force 141 x Autistic!F!Reader Category: Fluff/Angst Warnings: Descriptions of sensory overload (texture/sound), depictions of ableism (Simon's especially), swearing Word Count: 2.7k+

A/N: While I've never officially been diagnosed with ASD, I do have ADHD and have many friends/family who have ASD. These are based on my own experiences with sensory overload, as well as my friend's and family's. Everyone's experience with sensory overload is different, and these scenarios are not meant to reflect what everyone with ASD experiences/encounters.

John Price

You sighed as you slammed the front door behind you. Work today was completely exhausting and you wanted nothing more than to kick your shoes off, take a shower, and curl up in bed. You slipped your shoes off and hung up your purse before walking into the kitchen. You clenched your fist around your phone when you saw a pile of dishes resting in the sink.

“John? Kids?” you called. There was no reply. You glanced around the corners before your phone buzzed.

“Football practice running a little late-will bring dinner home. Love you.” -John

You ran your hand down your face. You scrunched up your nose as you saw the wet food remaining on some of the plates and bowls. Dishes were usually John’s chore, but with your kids having football practice and the two of you working, things understandably fell behind at times. The cherry on the cake was that your dishwasher was broken…which meant now you had to wash everything by hand.

You felt your skin crawl as you grabbed the sponge and turned on the faucet, the water pouring out as you grimaced. You bit the inside of your cheek as you grabbed one of the plates, nearly dropping it when the tips of your fingers slid against the soggy food. You gagged and stepped back, your hand squeezing the sponge as you tried to take a deep breath. You had to suppress every urge to yell as you cleaned the dishes, each feeling of mushy food against your hands making your breathing grow more ragged.

You flinched when you heard the front door swing open, your children clamoring inside as John yelled at them to settle down. You clenched the cup in your hand.

“Could you please be quiet?!” you shouted as you waved your hand. Your eyes widened as it slipped out, glass shattering all over the tiled floor. The room went completely silent as you stood still, hot tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

“Kids, go on upstairs and finish your homework while I help mum clean up. Take your food with you,” John said. They both nodded before taking their food upstairs to their rooms. You glanced away, bunching your wet hand on the bottom of your shirt as your husband lumbered towards the linen closet.

“I-I didn’t mean to shout or break anything,” you murmured, the tips of your ears burning as he silently walked over with a hand-broom. You flinched when he stooped down next to you and gently brushed the shards into the dustpan.

“Don’t move,” he instructed. Your shoulders slumped as you rubbed your thumb and forefinger between your blouse. You sighed as you tossed the sponge back into the sick with good riddance. “Did you get cut?” he asked before tilting his head up. You shook your head. John hummed as he swept the last few bits into the pan.

“Right, you should be good to move now,” he said with a nod. Tears suddenly started to trickle down your cheeks as he dumped the mess into the bin. His bushy brows furrowed as you sniffed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” your voice cracked. John immediately rushed up to you, though he kept his hands at his side.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” he asked. You swore you would’ve given yourself carpet burn if you moved your fingers against your shirt any faster.

“I-It was such a long day at work, and then I-I came home and saw there were still some dirty dishes in the sink, so…” your voice trailed off as your face flushed. John cooed as he tilted his head.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I meant to do them before I left,” he apologized. You nodded before wiping your cheeks. “Hey, look at me,” John said. You slowly tilted your gaze back to him, your fingers now tugging on the belt loops of your pants. John gave you a small gentle smile as he held his hand out. You slowly pulled your hand away from your pants and ghosted your palm over his.

“You did nothing wrong, understand?” he said. You swallowed a lump in your throat and nodded.

“I-I know…I just hate acting like that over something so ‘little’,” you huffed. John nodded slowly.

“Love, it’s not ‘little’ to you,” he assured you. You found yourself shifting your gaze between your hand and his face. John sighed as you let your hand fall back to your side.

“Come on. I brought home your favorite,” he winked as he tilted his head towards the table. You felt your heart flutter a little as you nodded.

“Thank you,” you replied.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Your hands already flinched the second you walked through the front doors of the local pub. It was packed to the brim with patrons, televisions blasting the Chelsea game.

“You alright?” Kyle asked as he slipped his hand into yours. You took a deep breath and nodded.

“Yeah, fine,” you replied with a tight grin. Your boyfriend gave you a concerned look before you tugged at his hand. Kyle’s been wanting to go to the pub for a while and since you chose date night last time, you obliged him. You repeat to yourself on the car ride over that it wasn’t such a big deal, that a little bit of noise wouldn’t be so bad.

It was.

It felt like you were caught in the middle of a raging storm at sea, waves of people’s voices and the game blasting over the screens making you cover your ears. You tried so hard to pay attention to what Gaz was talking about, but it felt like every clink of glass, every whoop and holler at the game made your skin crawl. You gritted your teeth as you squeezed your eyes shut, gently rocking yourself in your seat.

Your cheeks flush as you try to not imagine people looking at you, their stares of concern or judgment piercing into your mind. You nearly jumped out of your chair when you felt someone put their hands over yours. You snapped your head up to see Kyle gazing at you, his brows furrowed as he tilted his head.

“Love?” he asked. Your nostrils flared as you suddenly slipped out of the booth, pushing past him as you rushed outside. While the city streets of London didn’t fare any better, at least you didn’t feel like someone was trying to crush you between their palms. Your hands remained over your ears as you sat on the bench, bouncing your leg as you bit your lip.

You saw Kyle quickly sprint out of the pub out of the corner of your eye, wildly looking around until he locked eyes with you. You turned away as he slid next to you on the bench. The two of you were quiet for a while as you slowly let your hands fall into your lap.

“Wanna talk about it?” Kyle asked. You lowered your head, your face sullen and exhausted as you sighed.

“I’m sorry, I tried…I-I thought I could do it,” you said in a broken mutter. “But the yelling and the game…just everything. It was too much,” you sighed. Kyle listened as you folded your hands together. “I’m sorry, I thought I could be strong enough,” you frowned.

“Hey, it’s alright. It’s got nothing to do with you being ‘strong’ enough or not,” he said. You glanced over before looking back at your lap. Kyle took a deep breath. “It'll be okay, love,” he stated as he gave you a gentle smile. You nodded slowly, your shoulders still slumped over. You glanced over again when your boyfriend stood up. You looked at him as he held his hand out.

“C’mon hun, let’s head home. We can watch some movies if you want,” he smiled warmly. Your features softened as you took his hand.

“That sounds nice,” you said.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

You stared at the sweater hanging on your bathroom door. It was gifted to you from your grandma last Christmas. Bless her heart, she truly loved to give you thoughtful presents…except she always forgot about how certain textures affected you.

“At least wear it to the reunion,” your mother urged you. “She’s not going to be around forever,” she added. You sighed as you slid the sweater on, dreading having to wear it to a several hour long event. Your skin instantly felt like it was being scratched at by a thousand toothpicks, their pointy tips scraping across your upper body. You seethed as you smoothed it over your chest before there was a soft knock at the door.

“Sweetheart, you ready to go?” your boyfriend asked. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your mother’s words still echoing your head as you took a deep breath. You opened the door, Simon standing before you in a deep blue jacket and a pair of jeans. He gave you a small grin.

“I feel a bit underdressed,” he chuckled as he eyed your sweater. You shrugged before grabbing your purse.

“Let’s head out,” you replied as you walked towards the door. Your boyfriend remained silent before you heard him rush up to open the door for you. You gave him a tense, courteous smile as you went to the car. The ride to your family reunion consisted of you picking at your sleeves, collar, and the tag on the back. Simon glanced over every once in a while before flicking his eyes back to the road.

You wore a tight smile as you walked into your grandma’s house. Your cousins greeted you before your mom came up, squeezing you in a tight hug. You clenched your fists as the itchy fabric felt like it was searing into your skin.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” your mother beamed. You nodded before meeting eyes with your grandmother. She gasped as she waved you over. You gave her a small grin as you approached, cringing as she planted a wet kiss on your cheek.

“How are you doing, dear?” your grandmother asked.

“I’m good,” you stated. Simon soon came up behind you, your grandmother’s eyes widening.

“Is this the handsome young lad your mom’s always talking about?” she asked. Your mom laughed nervously as she looked away. Your boyfriend stepped up.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nana,” Simon smiled as he held out his hand. He grunted when she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tightly.

“Better be careful, (Y/N). I might just steal him from you,” she whispered loud enough for him to hear before winking at you. Simon chuckled before slipping back. You tugged on the collar of your sweater, desperate for some relief from the sweltering, needle-like fabric. You flinched when your mother nudged her elbow into your side.

“Stop fidgeting. It looks improper,” she hissed. Your face got hot as you tried to keep your hands at your sides. The rest of the reunion was fine…until one of your relatives gave you a hug from behind.

“Get off of me!” you shouted as you jerked away. Everyone’s eyes were immediately on you, causing you to stiffen beneath their gaze.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong with you?” your mother scoffed from nearby. You looked down at your shoes as Simon came rushing towards you. “I thought you’d grow out of this, honestly,” she muttered under her breath. Your face remained hard as stone as you turned on your heel and ran towards the back patio, slamming the door behind you. You puffed out a heavy sigh as you leaned over the railing of the deck, tempted to just strip yourself of the sweater and chuck it into the garden below. Your back was hunched over as you heard the door open behind you.

“(Y/N),” your boyfriend called. You didn’t answer. You heard his heavy footsteps grow louder as he came next to you. He folded his hands together as he stared at the dead garden with you.

“I didn’t mean to yell,” you muttered dejectedly. You saw him glance at you in your peripheral vision.

“I know,” he replied. Your eyes widened slightly when you saw him hand you his jacket.

“Here,” he said. You looked into his eyes.

“But it’s chilly out,” you frowned. Simon pushed his jacket closer to you.

“That damn thing has caused you enough grief already. Should’ve given this to you sooner, to be honest,” he flushed a little. Your heart melted as you took the piece of clothing and slipped behind him. He stood in front of you while you took off the sweater, his larger body overshadowing yours while you changed. You looked down, sighing as the smooth material graced over your skin while you zipped up the jacket.

“Thank you,” you smiled. He nodded.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here, yeah?” Simon stated. “We can go get some hot chocolate at a new place down the street,” he suggested with a playful smile. You grinned a little.

“You won’t hear any complaints from me,” you replied.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

You opened your purse to grab your ear plugs…only to find that they weren’t there.

“Feeling okay?” your boyfriend asked. You bit the inside of your cheek as you nervously looked over at the gates, the roar of the crowd already making your insides crawl. You slid your hands into your pocket before nodding. Johnny grinned ear to ear as the two of you made your way into the stadium. You crinkle your nose as the sound of the music combined with the cheering crowd bombarded your senses. Johnny tapped your elbow with his before tilting his head towards your empty seats.

“Excuse me,” you muttered as you slipped past a few people. You rubbed the fabric of your pocket between your fingers as you sat down. Minutes felt like hours as you sat there, sometimes covering your ears and wincing as wave after wave of rambunctious cheering pierced your eardrums. Johnny seemed too invested in the game to notice your predicament. You bounced your leg up and down as you flared your nostrils.

“Why didn’t you bring the stupid earplugs?” you scolded yourself internally. You looked over at your boyfriend, his grin stretching ear to ear as he hung on the edge of his seat. “You can’t ruin this for him…he’s been waiting to go to a game for months!” you thought. You flinched when you felt Johnny place a hand on your thigh. You tried to ignore the way his brows furrowed as he parted his lips.

“Do you want something to eat or drink?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” you nearly growled. Johnny blinked before letting his hand slip away, his face tilted down just a little bit more. Your heart instantly shattered as he remained more quiet than before.

“You sure?” he asked. “I just know that you haven’t eaten since-”

“I said I’m fine!” you shouted. You clasped your hands over your mouth as you stopped bouncing your leg. Johnny sat there with wide eyes and a blank expression. Your bottom lip quivered before you sighed.

“I…I’m sorry,” you breathed. Johnny patted your knee as you bunched your shirt into the tight grip of your fists. “I thought I could watch the game without earplugs…but I forgot them at home,” you glanced away from him. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve been waiting to see this game for ages, and-”

You blinked when he held out a pair of ear plugs. He shrugged.

“Figured I’d grab the other pair in case anything happened,” he smiled. Your heart fluttered as you wrapped your arms around his torso and nuzzled your face into his chest. He chuckled before planting a kiss on your head. A loud eruption of noise crashed over the stadium, causing you to instantly cover your ears.

Johnny rested his hands over your wrists after the crowd calmed down before handing you the ear plugs. You gladly pushed them into your ears. You glanced over when he tapped your shoulder before making a drinking motion towards his mouth.

“Could you get me a lemonade please?” you yelled. Johnny smiled, his eyes lighting up before he nodded and kissed your cheek. You grinned as you sat down in your seat, your heart full as you closed your eyes and listened to the muffled sounds around you.

----

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Taglist: @maybethatfanfictionwriter, @depressesoespressorat @yuhhtricki999

#call of duty #cod #call of duty modern warfare 2 #reader insert #cod x reader #cod fluff #cod angst #cod x autistic!reader #autistic reader

[muffinsin]

Pretty praises

Bottom Bela Dimitrescu x reader

Prompt: After finding out your girlfriend, Bela, has a praise kink you can’t help but tease her a little

-Because I’ve decided I need some more Bela here-

Masterlists

Bela’s had a rough, long week and needs to relax properly. And the good partner you are, you of course make it your task to help her with that.

So you do everything you can do, make sure she eats enough that she does not suffer from pains, drinks some of her favorite wine, sweet and partly made of blood, clean her chambers for her when she does not find the time to do so anymore and prepare a nearly boiling hot bath for her, just how she prefers it.

You set candles up around the bath chamber and a stool next to the tub so you can join her, even put a bottle of wine, normal one, so you can drink it as well, next to the bathtub.

You smile at her soft sigh when she slides in the large, luxurious bathtub and help her put up her hair so it won’t get wet.

She hums at the feeling of your hands on her scalp, collecting all her hair before putting it up and pressing a kiss to her head. You smile at her scent.

“I should be working…”, She hums, but doesn’t protest at all when you bring the soapy sponge down against her shoulder and merely busies herself with the bubbles you’ve added for her.

“You’ve been working so hard recently, you deserve a small break”

Bela only hums and closes her eyes when you clean her body, always careful, especially when you brush the sponge over sensitive parts like her neck, nipples or stomach, because you know she feels a little uncomfortable when she is wet and unable to swarm, and you don’t want to trigger any primal instincts.

Still, a bath is a must and a good way to comfort her, if only she is inside the warm water long enough.

”You’ve been so good lately, working so much, you’re so talented”, You praise, hoping she will see that a break is not only a good idea, but necessary. You notice her muscles tense and let go of the sponge to massage her shoulders instead.

“Poor baby, you’re to tense!”, You gasp, feeling the hard muscles underneath your hands. Bela only nods and bites her lip to stifle her moans, hands pressed between her legs and the sides of the tub and position tense and straight.

”See, you’ve been overworking lately, love. You’re so talented and motivated, I know, but-“, you stop when you hear a small whimper below you. “Everything okay?”. Does the massage hurt? Bela usually likes that, it means her muscles loosen up again. Is the water too cold? No, that can’t be, you reached in just a few minutes ago and made sure it was still very warm for your girlfriend.

She only hums and nods her head. “Alright, pretty girl, tell-“. This time you definitely hear a breathless moan. You smirk and move your hand to her jaw, taking it and turning her head back to you. “Something you’d like to say, sweet girl?”.

“Please”

You can’t stop thinking about it; your girlfriend has a praise kink. And a massive one at that. You can work with that…

Bela smiles when you wrap your arms around her and press a small kiss to her cheek- not bloodied, thankfully, because she knows you don’t necessarily like to kiss her like that. It is remarkable that you didn’t mind it when cuddling, though she assumes kissing her with blood on and around her lips is a little too much for her beloved human.

You aren’t at all a fan of the dungeons, but are willing to go down there to see your girlfriend once in a while, like you do today. “How’s my talented girl doing?”, You ask, well aware and noticing her position tense.

“Good”, you smile at her slightly breathless voice. Maybe it is a little cruel, using her kinks against her when you know she is needy already.

Maybe it is unfair that you made out with her in the morning, massaged her breasts and squeezed her ass and simply let go after that with nothing more than a smirk and a kiss to her pretty, soft lips.

You smirk when she shakes her head and goes on telling you about her work. It’s a cute attempt, but you aren’t about to let her shake you off that easily.

“So I did about twenty experiments today, that’ll hopefully save me some time tomorrow, though none of them showed a unique result…”, She explains, then trails off and lastly falls silent when your hand tails up her hips.

“Good girl, you’re working so hard”, You coo. You chuckle at her quiet, needy whine and press another kiss to her cheek.

“Is my beautiful girl wet?”, You whisper, your hand trailing back down just before it can brush over her breast. “Y-Yes”. This is by far too much fun to give in to her just yet. “That’s perfect, what a good girl you are”, You coo with another kiss to her cheek. You smile when she moans your name already, but are not about to rush this.

You press your face against her neck, inhaling her perfume and her scent underneath- sweet and almost oaky, and comfortable. Bela smells…safe, at least to you- others that are close enough to smell her probably interpret the scent as not so safe.

”Please…”. You smile again and press your fingertips into her hips. You truly love it when she begs and hearing her do it outside of your bedroom turns you on even more.

Seeing her willing to let go of that role as the superior eldest sister to find herself being entirely yours…it is nothing you’d get tired of easily. “Look at you, pretty girl, begging so beautifully for me. You’re such a good girl, Bela”, You coo. You tighten your hold on her hips when you feel her try to turn around. “Ah-Ah, keep working, darling. We wouldn’t want you to have too much to work later on”, You remind her with a small push of your hands. She moans and pants lowly when you press her against the desk, singing sweet praises for her whenever she finishes a report and kissing her every time she gets distracted by your hands traveling up and down her front.

Bela looks up at you immediately after you enter the tasting room, wide eyes finding yours easily. “How’s work going?”, You ask innocently, but both of you know your true intentions.

So Bela doesn’t bother picking up her next wine glass and simply swarms over to you, grabbing your hands and pressing them against her stomach.

“Good, good, so good”, She answers, breathless already, and kisses your neck. “Does my good girl think she deserves a reward?”, You ask lowly and chuckle when she nods against your neck quickly.

Her hands squeeze yours and twitch a little, as if resisting the urge to pull your hands down to her -without a doubt wet- pussy.

“Words, Bela”, You remind her. You want her to say it, because you know how much it turns her on.

”I want a reward, please. I’ve been good…”, she begs. You smirk at how hard her thighs are pressed together when she says it.

”That’s it, Bela. That’s right, you’ve been so good”, You coo and kiss her again. She moans into your mouth and tugs lightly on your hands.

You pull her away from the door and close it behind you, then sit down on one of the chairs and pat your lap. Immediately the blonde swarms on top of you, thighs on either side of your legs, hands holding onto your shoulders, hips dragging against yours desperately. Black God, you love seeing her this needy.

She moans when you kiss her again, then gasp when you first loosen the strings on her corset, then pull them. She automatically touches the corset, now much tighter around her, then moans when you move forwards and kiss her again.

Not sweet and careful like most of your kisses are, but wild and desperate, teeth clashing against each other and your tongue pushing into her mouth greedily. Bela moans at another tug of the strings, then again when you loosen them a little bit.

You are admittedly a little nervous to try this, seeing as Bela is a predator and playing with her breath could lead to unwilled, predatory reflexes and instincts, but you smirk when nothing like that happens and your girlfriend only moans and arches her back on your lap whenever you pull the corset a little bit too tight.

”Please”, she whimpers again when you loosen the strings and allow her to breathe properly again.

”Go on, darling. Nothin’s stopping you”, You coo and press your thigh upwards a little, under her dress, pressing against her cute, warm, and wet panties. She immediately thrusts her hips forwards, then tightens her hold on your shoulders and begins grinding against your thigh properly.

”Such a good girl, you’re doing so well, darling”, You coo. She moans your name and digs her fingernails into your shoulders when you pull the strings on her black corset again.

You smile up at her, eyes closed, a small frown on her face from the pleasure she receives, her mouth open. She pants and gasps, moans and occasionally groans on top of you. “What a beautiful sight you are, my beautiful girl. Good girl, that’s it, hump my leg until you come”

You carefully raise your hand to her neck, slowly, so she can stop you at any time, then loosen the strings again and instead squeeze her neck- not a lot, at first, you hardly cut off her breath, but you have to make sure she knows this was for pleasure only.

She opens her eyes and stopps thrusting for a second, before putting her hand over yours and urging you to squeeze a little harder.

You grin and do so, careful not to dig your fingers in more than necessary, because no matter how erotic it is to hear Bela’s breathless gasps, you don’t want to injure the beautiful creature on top of you.

Bela grinds down against your thigh a little harder every time you choke her, then leans forwards and rewards you with a kiss every time you let go of her neck again.

You eye the wineglasses next to you and grin at the idea coming to your mind.

You let go of her neck and tighten the corset again instead, then pick up one of the glasses and press it against her lip.

“Go on, my talented girl”, You demand gently. She moans and thrusts a little faster, but eventually takes a sip of the wine offered to her. “T-Too stale”, She barely manages to say through her own moans and gasps. You nod and write it on the tag in front of the glass, then lift the next one to her lips.

”Please…”

”Good girls work to get their rewards, Bela. You want to be rewarded, don’t you, beautiful girl?”

The blonde can only nod quickly and take a sip of the wine.

”That’s it, such a good, hard working girl, I’m so proud of you”

Bela attempts to answer a few times, but is either cut off when she thrusts against you in an angle that makes her clit rub against you even more, or is cut off when you pull on the black strings of her corset.

”F-Fine”, She slurs eventually, and again you write it on the piece of paper in front of the glass and kiss her as a reward.

”One more, Bela”, You coo and raise a third glass to her lips. The woman pants and shakes on top of you, but takes a sip when you let go of the corset strings and wrap your arm around her instead, steadying her and squeezing her hip every few seconds. “Fi-Ah! Fin’e”, she slurs. You write on the tag again, then raise your hand to her cheek and caress it. “Good girl, so good, Bela. I’m so proud of you. Cum for me, baby, show me what a good girl you are”, You coo and hold her tightly when she comes. You kiss her one last time before you switch your positions and stand up. You fix her corset properly again and wipe away the smeared lipstick- surely your red one around her lips could pass as blood- before you kiss the tattoo on her forehead and move to the door. “See you later, sweet girl”

You jump when you feel hands on you, but calm down when you hear the familiar purrs (buzzing) against your shoulder. You haven’t even noticed Bela come in, but don’t complain when she pulls you over to the bed and pushes you down.

”What’s gotten my talented girl this eager?”

She only whines and glares at you as best as she can. “You know exactly what!”, She accuses. What exactly is she referring to?

Your visit in the dungeons when she was working? When you made out with her in the tasting room, sitting her down on your lap and allowing her to grind her hips against yours? Praising her for her effort and targeting her sensitive spots with your tongue? Or was it even later, when you helped her take a bath and mentioned how pretty she looked, showing outright worship with your words and touches.

You only smirk and beckon her closer, bright golden eyes staring down at you expectantly, pretty, black painted lips jutted out in something you could almost call a pout- and an adorable one at that. It is rare seeing the woman you like this needy and pouting and already starting to tug off her dress.

”Careful, sweet thing, you know your dress is expensive”

You smirk at the new idea already coming to your mind.

”Strip”

You tsk and hold her wrist when she tries swarming out of her dress.

”No, pretty girl. Strip. Slow. I want a show.”

You lean back and watch as your girlfriend undresses; first she pulls off her gloves, dragging them off with her teeth in a way that makes you squirm a little on the bed.

Next is her corset. Her breasts push out a little more when she undoes the strings, then slowly pulls it off her body. She eyes you the entire time and smirks seductively when, the second the corset is off and she plays with the rim of her dress, your eyes drop to her thighs. You greedily take in her stockings and black heels. Had you not asked for a show, and had it not been such a sweet kind of torture, you would reached out and pull the dress off in one go already.

You sit on your hands to help you stay still and in place when she pulls the dress off. Little nipples are hard already, luring you in and almost begging you to play with them. You love her breasts; they are just perfectly sized for your hands and so, so sensitive. You can’t get enough of her and like making her squirm underneath you by playing with her nipples. You smirk at the memory of her tied to the bedposts, nipples sore from being sucked, vacuumed, slapped and pulled and then sporting cute, red nipple clamps. The tears of overstimulation that ran down her cheeks, but the constant, breathless moans and her begs for more drove your crazy.

You bite your lips when she takes off her heels, then hold your hand up when she is about to take off her last two clothing items- her stockings and black panties.

”Come here, pretty girl”, You demand gently, your legs spreading for her to get between. You hold her waist when she does as you said and swarmed between them, then hums when she eagerly presses her lips against yours.

”Good girl”, You praise and grin when she moans and her hands move up and hold onto your arms. “So good, Bela, do you want my fingers?”, you ask sweetly and chuckle when she nods quickly. “Words, my lovely, talented girl”, You demand. “Yes, please” “Please what, Bela? Use your pretty mouth for me, darling”

”Please give me your fingers, draga…”, She begs breathlessly, hips already rising to meet your hands.

”Good girl, just like that”, You praise. You slip your hand beneath her naughty underwear and smile at the hotness you feel between her legs. It is rare for Bela, or her sisters for that matter, to be warm, but you manage to archive it every single time with your lovely girlfriend.

“Please”, she begs when you slide your middle finger through her sloppy folds, collecting all the slick wetness you find there. “Mhmm…you’re so wet, pretty girl, do you like it when I praise you?”, You ask, but of course know the answer already. “Yes!”, She admits, hips rolling in a desperate attempt to have your fingers fill her.

You coat another finger of yours in her, then grant her her wish and push your middle and index finger inside, slowly pushing in and out of your girlfriend. “A-Ah!”, She moans, hips moving and hands gripping your arms. “Good girl, you’re taking my fingers so well, Bela”, You coo. You push her a little closer with your free hand, until she practically sits on your lap and rides your fingers. You feel her round breasts pressing against your arm and coo when she pants and wraps her arms around your neck. “You look so beautiful like this, moaning and taking my fingers so well, love”, You praise. You feel her tighten around you again and push a third finger inside to fill her even more. “Ah~! P-Please!”, She begs, hips moving with your thrusts, teeth grazing against your neck. You stroke her back with your free hand and quicken your thrusts.

”You’re taking me so well, Bela”

”Such a good girl”

”You look so beautiful riding my fingers”

”I can’t wait to taste your delicious pussy in my mouth”

You know she is close, but aren’t quite done playing with her yet. Bela whimpers when you pull out of her, but aside from her “No-No-No!”’s, she doesn’t stop you.

You doubt she could, actually, if you just look at her shaking thighs and arms and listened to her ragged, heavy breaths.

You lay her own on the bed and pull your hand back out from her panties, before sucking your index finger clean. Bela blushes so adorably under you when you moan and lean over her, one thigh on each side of her hips. She eagerly opens her mouth when you present your soaked middle finger to her, then hum when you push it in between her lips and against her warm tongue. “Good girl, do you see how well you taste?”. Bela only nods and thrusts her hips upwards, helplessly soaking her panties for you. “You’re so beautiful, Bela”, You coo and press a kiss against her neck. Your finger pulls back out from her mouth and instead pushes against her nipple. Immediately you hear her gasps and pants underneath you again, then muffle her next moan, when you pinch her nipple, with your mouth on hers. You push your tongue in and take control easily, for Bela neither desires to be on top, nor could do much to fight for dominance when you tug on her sensitive nipples just right.

You smirk when you twist her nipples and she moans and arches her back for you.

“Please…please…more…”, she moans. You chuckle, but take pity on her and pull down her panties. “So pretty, Bela”, You praise. “Spread your legs”, You say and kiss her when she does so quickly. “Good girl, you’re behaving so well for me”, You praise. Your finger teases her clit by merely brushing over it. Still, the small contact is enough to have Bela whine and lift her hips for you.

You raise your eyebrow when her hand tangles in your hair and her nails dig a little in your scalp, then nod satisfied when she lets go and puts her hands next to her head. “That’s it, there’s no rushing this. You’ll be my good and patient girl, won’t you, Bela?”

”Yes!”

You slap her inner thigh playfully to have her open her eyes again.

”I asked you a question, Bela”. Again, you want her to say it; want to watch the wetness drool out of her, knowing that her own words make her so horny and needy for you.

”I’ll be your good girl, I’ll be patient, I promise!”, she breathes out. You reposition her hands next to her head and press them a little against the mattress, then move back down to her cunt. She is drooling on the bed already, wet from your teasing she had to endure the entire day, your fingers fucking her, and her own words just now. The sight is so delicious, her pussy soaked for you, her panties glistening with her wetness. You pull them off her completely, then curl them into a ball and drag them between her pink pussy lips. Bela moans and moans, helplessly raising her hips, hoping she will receive more.

”Open up”, You say, then push the panties in her mouth when she does so obediently. “Can you taste yourself on them? Mhmm, you’re so delicious, baby”, You whisper. Bela sucks on the panties in her mouth and whines when her nipple is spanked, but is only shushed by you again.

”Fuck, I might as well just have a taste too, don’t you think?”

You pick her hips up and lift them off the bed, then place them over your shoulders and listen to Bela’s muffled whines, moans, whimpers and protests. “Now, there’s no need to be embarrassed, Bela”, You coo and press a small kiss to the inside of her thigh. “You’re so pretty, so soft and warm for me, I’m so pleased with you”, You praise, happy to hear even more muffled noises.

You barely see her, but it is enough for you to make sure she isn’t truly uncomfortable.

“Hmm, let’s see…”, You hum, move forwards and press your face against her. You already feel her wetness smearing all around your mouth, but couldn’t care less. The erotic imagination of having Bela lick her own cum off your face only turns you on even more and urges you to enter her with your tongue. You love hearing her muffled moans and gasps and chuckle when she tries touching you, but her hands can’t reach you from her position. The vibrations against her make her drop her arms again. You feel her heel against your back, urging you to go faster and deeper. You comply happily.

You pull back out from Bela and instead lick her clean again, then take her in your mouth again- tongue pushing back into her and teeth rubbing her clit with every bob of your head. You squeeze her hips and pull her even closer to you, until she is almost vertically on the bed.

She moans your name behind the panty gag, over and over again between her constant “Ah!”’s and her loud, slurred words.

You grin when you open your eyes and see her fucked-expression, how desperately she tries to keep it together and how hard she fists the blanket. The panties poking out of her mouth, drool all around her mouth and currently running up her cheeks due to her position.

”Good girl, cum for me, baby”, You coo. The sensitive blonde does so only seconds later, screaming and moaning and squeezing your head between her thighs.

You lower her back on the bed and lick her clean once more, then climb on top of her again, pull the panties from her mouth and kiss her. She still tries to catch her breath and only moans when she tastes herself on your tongue again. “So good, Bela, you’re doing so good”, You praise with another kiss to the corner of her lips. You watch her chest heave with each heavy breath and swipe some of her cum from your face against her nipples. The little buds look so cute, glistening with Bela’s arousal, hardened and a little red already from your treatment before.

You smile when she leans up and licks her juices off your cheek, then moans and pushes her lips against yours again.

You smirk when she whimpers again and push her face in your neck.

”Is someone still needy?”, You coo, one hand holding Bela’s jaw and pulling back so she’s forced to meet your eyes, the other already holding her breast again. She only blushes under your gaze and whimpers again. “Such a perfect blush, but I want you to use your words, Bela”, You coo with a squeeze of her breast. The blonde woman moans and holds onto your shoulders again. “Hm, is my good girl needy?”, You ask, your hand squeezing her jaw a little to make her look at you again. “Is your sweet pussy soaked again already?”. “Yes, love! Please…”, she whines, leaning against your hand on her breast and shyly moving your other hand from her jaw to her neck. You smirk at her silent request and move her back on your lap. You love this position the most, mainly because her breasts are on face level with you because you feel every little movement of hers; her thighs pressing together because she can’t take it anymore, her body shaking right before an orgasm, her body bouncing on you whenever you have her ride your fingers or toys…

You gently remove her choker, not wanting to accidentally hurt her with it or break the fancy necklace, then move it on the nightstand and push three fingers into her. You listen to her breathless gasp, then tighten your- up until now- loving hold on her throat a little. You use it to push her down harder against your fingers, until they are buried within her to the knuckles. The blonde moans and holds her hand against your one at her neck. “Good girl, take my fingers, Bela”, You say and start thrusting upwards. Bela moans and gasps, pushes herself down against you and harder against the hand on her throat, greedily taking everything in.

”Ride my fingers, Bela, take your reward, my perfect girl”, You coo. The blonde does as she is told, both hands gripping your shoulders again to help her move up and down. You occasionally tighten your hold on her throat and chuckle when she gasps and nearly loses her balance, or her legs give out because of it and she falls back down against you, your fingers deep within her and curling.

She moans your name when you lean forwards and take the tip of her breast in your mouth, sucking and wetting it while your tongue takes care of her sensitive nipple. You notice parts of her breaking off into flies and landing on your shoulders or cheek, but don’t pay them much mind. You are more or less used to having an insect on top of you at this point, if only because Bela likes to have parts of her with you when the two of you can’t spend time together because you both work too much.

You smirk and bite her nipple, gentle, but enough for her to yelp and tighten around you.

”Can my good girl handle another finger?”, You ask, curious how many fingers you can push into her before she’ll break and orgasm helplessly, pussy full and nipples sore.

“Yes, love! Please!”, She answers breathlessly, then gasps when you push your fourth finger in as well. Your thumb still likes to play with her clit, bringing her closer to her orgasm even faster and making her grind herself against the fingers in and on her.

“I’lo’we’-“, She slurs, but you understand nonetheless and place a small kiss on her breast before letting it slip out of your mouth and slap against her chest again. “I love you too, darling girl, you’re so good, Bela, taking my fingers so well and doing as I tell you”, You coo. As a reward you curl your fingers inside of her, then, when she still gasps for breath under your tight hold on her neck, start thrusting upwards quickly. She holds onto your arm with both hands, half pushing you to choke her harder, half begging you to let go and let her breathe again.

But you aren’t having it. You know Bela can last longer without breathing, something she only proves every time the two of you are taking a bath and your girlfriend decides to reward you by lowering her head under the water surface and making you feel good.

You pull her closer by her neck and kiss her cheek roughly, then quicken your thrusts even more and whisper in her ear; “You’re so good, Bela, my good girl. You look so perfect, taking my fingers and choking under me. Do you like this, pretty girl? Having your breath cut off while I pleasure you?”

She only makes little, pathetic noises, but is not able to reply. You don’t care and instead kiss her neck, right between your fingers. Her body shakes so good on top of you…Bela’s hands tighten on your arm when you bite her jaw.

She gasps for air when you release her neck, then moans when you immediately kiss her.

”What are you, perfect girl?”

”Y-You’-Ah’! Your go-good girl”, she answers breathlessly, pussy tight and squeezing you, hands pushing your arm harder against her throat again. You tighten your hold once more for her.

”Show me what a good girl you are, Bela”

You slowly release her neck when she comes, your fingers moving slower and slower until she calms down again and you remove them from her red cunt. You notice the visible stretch and kiss her cheek lovingly, praising her wordlessly for being so good.

“Satisfied?”, You ask with a small chuckle. The blonde nods and pushes herself back against your front, all too happy to have your hands wrapping around her and pulling her closer again.

You pick her up and carry her to the attached bathroom, happy to prepare a bath for the two of you and take care of her.

#cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu x reader #cross posted on ao3