#blessed or cursed by seeing me with no makeup

[paleandpetty]

cat girl and her cat

[angelsforthenight]

i could eat that girl for lunch… (ellie williams)

ways you can help gaza🇵🇸

summary: you post cute pictures on your story in the hopes of gaining a certain girl’s attention… luckily you get more than what you anticipated ;)

cw: mdni, fem!reader, texting, cunnilingus, desperate top!ellie, teasing sub!reader, cannibalistic metaphors, cursing, ellie is goofy lmao

you’re this close to screaming. the winged eyeliner on your left eye somehow keeps fucking up; either looking too splotchy or shorter than your right one. what’s pissing you off the most is the fact that you aren’t even going anywhere… getting all dolled up just to take it all off in 15 minutes, just to post cute little photos on your story and, of course, just to get her attention.

ellie williams. the name rolled off your tongue with such velvety sleek. every single one of your friends knows her name; has had to endure through your countless obsessive gushes.

you two had met during a party. having been in a drunken haze, you barely remember the first conversation that sparked such an interest, but you do remember her gin breath against your ear: asking/shouting, amidst the blaring music, if you had wanted to go somewhere a little more quieter. the night ended up in you being fingered in her car, before being driven back home by her. a freckle-faced angel in a leather jacket coated with small pins and badges. you were immediately hooked. but it’s been a week since then, and you two haven’t spoken. having achieved her number, you thought of messaging, but didn’t want to come across as desperate, even though you so are.

you thank instagram suggested for bringing you her account on a platter; being filled with niche, introverted posts of every cool-looking thing but her face. she doesn’t even have a “me” highlights! you can’t tell if her lack in posting her face is a blessing or a curse. so here you are, getting ready to post on your story since you followed her the day before. the skin around your eye is starting to sting by the amount of times you’ve been wiping and restarting your eyeliner. it needs to be perfect. you’ve orchestrated all this to be perfect. you take a deep breath and focus, striving to get the perfect wing.

“thank fuck.” you murmur under your breath once you finally get it right, before enveloping your lips in lipstick. you admire yourself in the mirror once done. you look fucking amazing.

since you spent way too long putting on your makeup, it wouldn’t be fair to yourself to only post one picture, so you post a couple. a mirror picture following up a layout of 4 images with the perfect song in the background. a little smile tugs at your lips as you replay the story two, three, four times before setting it on do not disturb and finding something else to do. your heart pounds at the thought of ellie seeing it, praying that she’ll interact. even a simple like will do.

after removing your makeup and getting into your pyjamas, you click on a movie to pass time, setting your phone on do not disturb. half an hour passes, and you’ve been neurotically checking your phone for a sign of ellie to appear on your notifications, but nothing. you check your story to see if she’s seen it but again, nothing. another hour passes, and you check for any sign of ellie. nada. look at my story, you freak! are the words etched in your head, words you wished you could telepathically scream at her. you remember you set your phone on do not disturb for a reason, so you place it far away and focus on finishing the film.

a while later, you’re slumped on your couch on the verge of falling asleep. the movie’s ended and it was so boring that you’re finding it hard to keep your eyes open. you decide to check your do not disturb notifications one last time before taking a nap, until your eyes fall on the name ‘ellie.’ you immediately jerk up, awake and alert: your thumb automatically pressing the notification centre so you can see what it reads.

seventeen minutes ago.

ellie liked your story

ellie liked your story

ellie replied to your story: doll face

ellie replied to your story: you need a seat? lemme volunteer 🙏🙏

a shit-eating grin lights up your face. fucking finally! not once but twice! you excitedly draw your knees up to your chest, eager fingers tapping away, ready to respond - regardless of how long you’d been waiting for her texts. play it cool….

y/n: hahaha thank u thank u <3

y/n: (replied) oh word?

you’re surprised and very happy when you see the ‘typing…’ your heart doing goddamn backflips.

ellie: wooooord

ellie: literally cannot stop replaying ur story… bring that over here 🙁

ellie: come over

!!! your heart sinks all the way down to your ass. the hell does she mean come over?

y/n: ur not serious lmaoaoaooa

ellie: i’m being deadass,,, come over.

you look at the time. it’s almost 1 in the morning.

y/n: idek where u live bru😭😭😭😭

y/n: if anything you should come over since you’ve driven me to my house b4

ellie: mmm nahhhh

you blink in disbelief when ellie sends her location over. she’s not kidding.

y/n: girl i look bummy… i don’t even have any makeup on anymore :< took it off

ellie: i really don’t care

ellie: plsplspsls come over

ellie: u won’t regret it……………. trust 🤓🤓

next thing you know you’re leaving your house in your plaid shorts and a silly graphic tee. thankfully, ellie only lives 10 minutes away, so you take a bus before walking up to her apartment.

y/n: i’m cominggg

ellie: LOL yeaa you will be coming real soon 😇😇😇

though you cringe at her text, your body betrays you; your stomach forming a deep pit. she’s so sultry and playful you don’t know even know what to think. and there goes your heart again, hastily beating away like there’s no tomorrow. you reach the door, a trembling hand raising up to knock.

“hi.” ellie beams, smiling like an idiot. her eyes seize you from head to toe, “nice fit.”

“told you i looked bummy...” you mumbled, trying your best not to seem nervous. ellie moves aside so you can come in. her apartment smells exactly like she does; that faint campfire scent, conjoined with a forest-ey musk. a forest fire you were more than willing to burn in.

“so…“ you begin, with nothing prepared to follow up after that.

“sooooooo….” ellie repeats blithely.

“it’s been a week since… you know…” you whisper, awkwardly shifting your legs.

“since…?” ellie blinks, furrowing her eyebrows. she’s taunting you, trying to play innocent when it’s pretty fucking obvious what you’re on about.

“the party.” you respond, entertaining her coyness for no reason.

“party?” ellie pretends to think, looking up at nothing. “oh!! yeah… jesse’s one.” she smirks.

you smirk back, furrowing your eyebrows in amusement. “you could do so much better at playing dumb, y’know…”

“you think so?” ellie narrows her eyes, tilting her head as she steps closer. the impish smirk on her face never leaves. she’s having fun. you both are.

“yup. for your own good, don’t choose acting as a career.”

“for my own good?”

“for your own good.” you haven’t even realised how close you two are to each other now, daring eyes locked with another pair of daring eyes. takes one to know one. a silence permeated with tension fills the room.

“c’mere…” ellie finally mumbles before cupping your face with both hands and bringing you in for a kiss. you’re quick to melt in her grasp, your hand finding it’s way to ellie’s hair, giving it a playful tight squeeze that elicits a quiet groan from her. her hands, those goddamn hands, then move to your waist, pulling you closer. you two don’t even waste time before you’re making out with such fervor. save the sweetness for later, it’s the hunger that’s on display for now. the memory of her lips were starting to slip away from your mind and you’re glad you’re here to reboot it.

once you pull away, ellie’s eyes drift to something behind you. you follow her gaze, only for your eyes to land on a chair in the middle of the goddamn living room. it’s so random that you can’t help but burst out laughing.

“why is there a chair?” you ask in the midst of your laughing fit. it’s not even that funny, but the laughing is helping with your nerves.

“it’s for you.” ellie giggles too, a light pink tint on her cheeks that’s hard to miss.

“me?” you blink rapidly, your gaze darting from the chair to ellie, “do i sit?” you ask stupidly.

“no, you stand.” sarcasm laces her tone, as she giggles a little more, “go sit.”

“don’t order me around like i’m your dog.” you respond playfully, but you do as she says. despite your ‘tough’ front, you’d do anything she’d tell you to. guess she was being literal about offering you a seat…

ellie grins down at you, angling your chin up so you’re looking at her. you can feel the heat start to prickle in your face, down your neck and pervading the rest of your body. her thumb traces along your bottom lip, slightly dragging it down. there’s that same darkened look she had back in her car, one that makes you feel so small.

“so cute… like a human deer.” she murmurs distractedly, almost like she’s talking to herself instead of you. your head grows fuzzy, blushing even more. you mindlessly squeeze your thighs together, trying to ease the growing heat in between. ellie notices.

“you doing okay?” she softly asks, unable to mask the smug look on her face. you nod quietly. with her eyes kept on you, she lowers down until she’s on her knees, her smile growing. she kisses the top of both your kneecaps in such a tender way it sends tingles down your spine.

“can i eat you?” she breathes, her voice hollow and needy. it takes a second for those words to register in your brain.

“you…” you trail off. ellie’s gaze is very, very distracting. so intense and intrusive. she patiently waits for your answer, resting her chin on top of your knees. how can someone look so adorable and intimidating at the same time?

“please?” she adds, and you smile. a realisation has just dawned on you: you like to make her wait.

“eat me?” you cock your head to the side in feigned confusion. now it’s your turn to play dumb.

“yeah… like, your pussy.” ellie mumbles, becoming so desperate that it’s funny. she needed to be humbled at least a little. “i want a taste…”

“yeah?” you mock, and ellie’s face warps into a frown. “stop teasing me.”

“it’s only payback.” you shrug.

“for what?” ellie whines.

“for taking a week to text me.”

ellie stares at you for a moment. “then let me make it up to you…” her eyes travel down to your clamped thighs, wanting to open them up so bad. truth is, you’d let her devour you. chew you up like a deranged creature and watch her greedily lick the blood from her fingers. but teasing her was just so damn fun.

“aren’t your knees getting tired?” you tease, cupping the side of her face as she stares up at you with puppy eyes. it’s getting hard to resist. ellie immediately shakes her head.

“for you? never.” she whispers. your grin broadens in satisfaction. such sweet words. meaningless? maybe, but cute nonetheless.

“fine…” you sigh, leaning back and gesturing for ellie to go forth. ellie’s face lights up like a bulb, eagerly parting your legs. the movement makes you shiver, as you can feel the heated moisture of your arousal seep through your underwear. despite your shorts still being on, ellie’s lips travel up, both hands gripping your sides as her lips leave fond, wet kisses along your inner thigh. her teeth clench around the hem of your shorts, letting out a muffled chuckle as she playfully pulls your shorts down with her teeth. she’s kidding around but that’s one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen in your life.

you adjust your knees so that your shorts can be pulled down. you’re so wet your underwear is fucking see-through. you just know she’s about to say something.

“someone’s real excited-“

“shut up and keep going.” you hastily cut her off out of embarrassment. ellie laughs, glancing at you one more time before leaning back down again, dragging her ardent tongue up your inner thigh. you gasp quietly, and that little noise influences her to do more, letting out a sigh of her own; the sort of sigh you do when relaxing in a hot bath, or when pissing after holding it in for so long… like she’s needed this. you’re startled when ellie drags her tongue right in the center of your clothed heat, your breath hitching. you want more.

ellie’s teasing is relentless and mean. she sucks your clit through your underwear, eyes on you; observing the way your hips are desperately buckling up, the way your thighs are twitching.

“so mean…” you whine as ellie flicks and rolls her tongue against your underwear.

“did you want something?” ellie blinks. again with the coyness. you scowl and ellie grins in return.

“you can’t outdo the do-er, babe.” she chirps, pulling the drenched underwear off your legs. she opens your legs wide, staring at your pussy like it’s the best piece of artwork she’s ever seen. you can practically see sparkles in her eyes. you shiver when you feel her fingers pry your cunt open.

“so fucking hungry for you…” she whispers, her breathing shallow and her eyes glazed-over. she gets to work immediately, a firm trail up your vulva before kissing it with her lips. a fleshed moan doesn’t fail to escape your own lips, as your eyes flutter shut. of course she’d be good at this.

ellie moans too, gripping your thighs and pulling you closer, burying her face in between your legs as she goes to town on you. she’s moving like she’s starving, like she hasn’t eaten for weeks and has been presented with a banquet.

her lips tug at your folds, your pussy slick with a mixture of your arousal and her spit. every single time her lips hit your clit it elicits yet another strong reaction from you. she’s so vigilant that she’s quick to notice that that’s your most delicate spot, so she abuses it; kissing it and pulling on it, her head shaking as she pleases you with her tongue. you nourish her with hushed praises: ones like “yes, yes…” or “you’re doing so good” to keep her going. it fuels ellie like no other, and drives her to go harder, a little faster.

her movements are so consistent and perfect that you could froth in the mouth right here and now. you grip her hair tightly, and ellie adores it: groaning happily when you squeeze too tight. you mindlessly push ellie’s head closer to your pussy, feeling the tip of her nose buried in. your moans begin to crescendo. you’re in fucking ecstasy.

“getting close, are we?” ellie pants, her thumb rubbing your clit in slow, teasing drags as she resumes sucking on your cunt.

“i’m gonna cum… i’m cumming… e-ellie…” you babble, tears threatening to pour; and it isn’t just the eye tears we’re talking about here…

“yeah? you gonna let yourself go?” ellie stares up at you, her voice a little higher and breathier. her face is warped into one of pleasure, like she’s the one being fucked.

“yeah… please ellie, i’m really close…” you whine: barely coherent, light tears streaming down your face. ellie chuckles at how adorable you look, taking a second to appreciate how good you look when needy. she dives back in, her nails digging into your thigh as her mouth moves with the perfect vigour to push you off the edge. and oh, you do.

one last strong lick gets you off: your spine bending backwards, same as your head as you let out a strangled scream. you grip her hair tightly, your eyes momentarily rolling to the back of your head as ellie purposely continues to extend the high a little bit. eventually, she pulls back. the both are you are completely out of breath - huffing and panting like dogs.

you slump back in your chair, completely out of it and in a daze. ellie smiles.

“you okay?” she murmurs, appreciating your cute, spent look. you nod quietly in response.

“fuck, my knees.” she mumbles, before sitting back and stretching them. you laugh a little.

“there was no need for the chair.” you reply.

“i know… but i wanted to. it was hot.”

“it was.” you smile. you’re glad you decided to get dolled up for your story tonight.

a/n: i’m back! i’ve been so caught up in school that i haven’t been able to post fics as much but i’ll try 2 be more active :33 i’m absolutely obsessed with billie’s lunch so i made an ellie fic based off of it. hope u enjoyed and if u have any requests leave them in the ask inbox !!!

[lavandulawrites]

Okay but here me out with this idea, I don know why my brain made this connection but cause Snezhnaya is snowy and stuff and Snow White normally takes place in a snowy climate.

Capitano with a Snow White darling.

Like with the Calamity saw her once or twice before she fell asleep, and she is like the former Cryo Archon’s daughter or something. So when her father dies she falls asleep as since he created her out of snow or something to be his daughter, she lives off of his power or the abyssal power corrupts her body so much that she gets so weak and falls into a deep slumber. The Tsaritsa has her body in room in the Zapolyarny Palace, taken care of while she slumbers for hundreds of years.

So then when Capitano becomes the first of the Fatui Harbingers he finally sees her again, only in a sleep like death.

Snow White

Yandere Capitano x reader

This such an amazing idea!╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ I’ve always loved Snow White and it’s such a fitting concept for Capitano. (Let me know if anyone wanna be apart of my taglist).

Masterlist

Warnings: obsession, future murder, delusional Capitano, female reader

Word count: 901

The first time he saw you, you were sitting in the winter garden within the place. Your hair was elegantly braided in Snezhnayan fashion. Your makeup was minimal, but well suited. Your pale blue gown was flowy, yet warm given the white fur that was sewn onto the sleeves, the end of the skirt and the collar.

His breath was uncharacteristically caught in his throat at the sight of your beauty. You had looked up at him with a gentle and innocent smile. You didn’t seem intimidated by his towering height nor his muscular form.

The second time he saw you was at a ball hosted by the cryo archon. That was the day he learned you had been brought into existence by the powers of the archon, your father. Capitano found himself even more awestruck at your beauty, knowing your existence was above human nature. Your eyes had a certain glow one would never find in human beings. Your ethereal beauty stunned everyone that looked your way as you moved around the grand ballroom in your gown that sparkled like ice crystals.

The Captain bowed before you as he asked for a dance. You happily obliged. One of his large hand found the small of your back. The other held your hand gently as he lead you through the room in fluid dance that even surprised him. You were a talented dancer and he felt blessed by the heavens above to be in your presence. For once he longed for an entity above humans. His Khaenri'an kin and companions would be greatly disappointed to see him like this, but the black haired man could not care less. Not when he had found the woman he could imagine spending eternity with.

The evening came to an halt sooner than he had expected, and soon he saw you bid him farewell with a wave of your hand and a bright smile upon your lips.

Centuries had passed since the former archon had died and you, his daughter, had fallen into an eternal sleep. He kneeled before the Tsaritsa as she made him the first ranking Harbinger. He was a proud man and promised to serve her and her country for an eternity. He took her pale delicate hand in his large hand. A black colour with faint cobalt blue lines had started to form on his fingertips as a sign of the curse. He brought his hand to his mouth and kissed her gently. She smiled down at him with what resembled motherly love.

After the ceremony he was left alone, free to roam the palace. The new archon had placed great trust in him. He wandered the palace with his head held high and with a new identity. His steps came to an halt when he was faced with a large set of doors that looked like they were made of thick ice. He couldn’t see through them as their thickness was too great, but he sensed a presence behind them that lured him closer.

His hand itched towards the handle with a pull of an invisible force. As in a trance he opened the doors. They were heavy, but it was no struggle thanks to his inhuman strength. The room was dark except the small ice lanterns that casted a dim icy light. The room was lacking in interior, save for the lanterns and a big clear ice coffin. He could faintly see the outline of a person inside it.

Capitano’s feet moved on their own accord towards the enigmatic coffin. As he came closer he got a good look at the person inside. His heart hammered against his chest and his throat closed at the sight of you. When he saw that your chest heaved gently, he let out a shaky breath of relief. Finally, finally after all those years he got to see you again. He had thought it was a myth that the daughter of the former archon, the woman made of snow and ice, was sleeping in a ice coffin within the palace.

Capitano placed his hand on the lid. The cold ice sent a biting sensation through his gloveless hand, but he could not care less. How could he when the love of his life was right before him?

“Don’t worry, my princess. I will get us reunited sooner or later. Just be patient” he whispered as he kneeled before you with a hand over his heart. “I promise.”

He slowly rose to his feet when an idea struck him. His movements stilled as his blue eyes were locked onto your sleeping form. What kind of man would he be if he left you alone? He gritted his teeth as hot raging hatred filled his cursed veins. How could your father be so careless? Capitano wished with all his heart that your father would appear before him alive, just so he could kill him again.

He would find away to convince the Tsaritsa to let him away your hand in marriage. He would also have to find everyone underneath the former archon’s court and kill them for their inability of taking care of you. After he was done, he would finally have you all to himself. Waking you up shouldn’t be too difficult with a little bit of help from his colleagues and her Majesty.

You would never get out of his reach ever again.

[strawbeerossi]

Mine

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: Whenever the police chief gets a little too friendly with you, you find yourself having a very strict conversation with Spencer at the hotel.

Content/Warnings: Jealous!Spencer, unprotected sex, squirting

Word Count: 1.6K

Kinktober Day Twenty Eight: Squirting

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

Spencer felt his eye twitching as he noticed the newest chief of police was all over you. There was a child abduction case in Nashville, Tennessee that the BAU had offered their resources to. It was standard, children going missing and parents getting weird texts the longer their children were kept captive. You were spending a lot of time at the precinct with him due to you being the designated member alongside JJ to interview the families and surviving child victims who were let go.

“So agent. I got a few questions on your profiling abilities.” The man stated as he was leaning against the desk he was closest to, your gaze lifting from the case file the team had been building up over the past few days. “Okay, lay them on me.” You were just being friendly, not being the best at sensing when men were hitting on you or outright flirting. It was both a blessing and a curse. “Is it true that kids in abusive homes are guaranteed to be murderers?”

The question was quick but you were faster to answer. “No! Not in all cases. Stressors and triggers from childhood can play a big part in the psychological damage of a serial killer but there are people who came from relatively good homes who have murdered others in cold blood. There’s no exact genetic makeup or reason yet, but one day I’m sure it’ll all be answered in depth.”

The rest of the day went like that. He’d ask a question and you’d happily answer, although he was essentially eyefucking you while you were too enthralled in an explanation to pay close enough attention. Hotch had eventually instructed the team to go to their hotel for the night, the team needed rest after being awake for nearly twenty four hours without so much as a break.

The SUV ride back was dead silent, mostly because of exhaustion setting in. However, you could sense tension in your boyfriend as you rested your head lightly against his shoulder.

He’d been abnormally quiet at the precinct, barely even looking in your direction when you came near him. You figured it was exhaustion. Not only were you up for long hours but cases involving children were some of the most draining things you’d ever have to go through. After arriving at the hotel and everyone disbanding to get to their rooms, you were unlocking the door and getting your shoes off while Spencer quietly walked deeper into the room.

“Did you want to take a shower first, babe?” You asked, offering a smile.

It faltered though whenever your boyfriend was facing you, fury in his eyes. “Are we not gonna talk about how chief Lorn is shamelessly flirting with you? It’s like you're eating it up! I mean come on, babe. Why would you ever assume he would care about profiling related things?” His tone was steady, yet anger bubbling over the surface. You looked confused, an eyebrow raised. “Flirting? Spencer, he’s asking questions. I think you’re just tired and taking your emotions out on me.”

Very good guess and probably true, however Spencer wouldn’t admit that. “No. I’m not taking out my emotions on you for no reason. You think I don’t see you batting your eyelashes or laughing at anything this guy says? You don’t know how angry it makes me to know how blind you are to these signals.” Blunt. The words had your mouth agape in shock. “I’m not flirting with the damn police chief! Jesus, Spencer.”

“I don’t believe you. You look like you are eating up all the attention. You know, I bet he wouldn’t even treat you the way I do. Do you think he’d spend every waking moment dedicating his life to you? Huh? Do you think he could love you like I do?” His footsteps were quick and his path decided to back you up against the wall. “Cause I know for sure that he can’t make you cum like I do.” His honey colored eyes were blown out with lust, his hands immediately moving to grip your hips tight. “Spencer!” You squeaked, your pussy clenching desperately around nothing as you could feel the heat of arousal coursing through your veins. Spencer hardly ever got jealous like this, however you liked this side of him. He was rough and could be a little mean, which really did get the job done. “Tell me I’m lying.” His eyes narrowed, hand under your chin making you stare up at him.

“I-I wasn’t flirting with anyone! I was just being friendly.” Your voice was barely above a whisper while Spencer sighed and dropped his hand from your chin. “Go get on the bed.” He murmured, already working on getting his tie off. You knew what you were in for. Spencer didn’t act like this much but you knew that special incidents would pull this rather uncharacteristic side out of him. You’d done what you were used to, already stripping yourself down as you were crawling onto the hotel bed while preparing yourself for whatever was coming.

You knew that he wasn’t going to give you the princess treatment like usual, instead Spencer was getting right to business as he was reaching in his bag to pull out a condom from the side pocket and using his teeth to tear it open. After rolling on the rubber, he was heading over to the edge of the bed to grasp your ankle, tugging your body down the mattress. His gaze was focused on your pussy, a low hum leaving his lips. “Look at how wet you are.” His fingers were teasingly running through your slick folds to collect your sweet arousal, holding a hand up to show off the glistening digits. “Now, I wonder who did that..” He playfully pondered while giving his cock a few lazy tugs.

As he was situated between your legs, Spencer was grasping his shaft and smacking it against your pussy before moving to run his tip through your folds to further tease you, your hand gently reaching for his hip. “Fuck, Spencer. Please.” You whined.

That was all he needed to hear, his large hands wrapping your legs around his waist as he readied himself, his right hand on his cock while the left squeezed your hip. As the thick tip was breaching your soaked cunt, the male was shushing your whines. “We haven’t even gotten started yet. Tonight, I’m gonna show you just how much you don’t need some idiotic police chief and learn how to appreciate what you do have.” Jealousy wasn’t something Spencer was proud of but the emotion was prominently on display and he wasn’t gonna hide it.

His hips were slamming against yours without warning, a loud gasp falling from your lips as your head was falling back against the mattress. “Fuck!” You cursed, feeling the burn of his cock stretching out your desperate and leaking pussy from being shoved deep into your warmth. “You think he’d have you acting like this? Look at how desperate you are and I’ve barely touched you.” His voice was low as both hands roughly gripped your hips. Spencer was normally more of the soft and sweet side, however in these sorts of moods, he was different than anyone who really knew him could imagine.

His thrusts were relentless, your pussy sinfully squelching from each rough snap of his hips, your arousal adding a shine to his cock. “Is this what you wanted? To be fucked like a cheap whore?” The vulgarity alone was making your stomach do flips. This was the man who was bashful with saying the word bitch, yet here he was, cursing and calling you a whore. You wouldn’t complain at all, mainly because you couldn’t.

With his onslaught of assaulting your cunt, you were letting out a series of moans, shaky whines, and pleas for him not to stop. Your skin was flushed, nails digging into your partner’s shoulders as you were in pure bliss. “Look at you. You like it when I abuse your cunt, don’t you? Want to be used like the whore you are? Fuck,” He huffed out, lips smashing against yours as he wasted no time practically shoving his tongue in your mouth while slamming his cock into your pussy, slamming into the spot where you needed him most.

The feeling of your walls constricting and spasming around his cock was like a dream. Spencer was sensitive, so he loved feeling your gummy walls and being able to have them gripping at his shaft, your desperate pussy making an attempt to suck in more of his dick even though it just wasn’t possible.

You were seeing stars, a familiar heat brewing in the pit of your stomach. However, you weren’t able to speak, only being reduced to blubbering about being close, even so the words were slurred together and still hard read. Thankfully, Spencer knew exactly what you were trying to convey, a hand coming down between your sweaty bodies as he was quick to press his finger against your clit, the pressure on the bundle of nerves causing you to whine desperately.

However what happened next was something that even snapped Spencer out of his jealous haze.

He was in the midst of roughly fucking into you whenever your legs were shaking violently, your nails dragging down his back as your body arched from the bed while hitting your orgasm. Instead of making a creamy mess of his cock, there was a gush of arousal that painted his thighs, pelvis, your thighs, and the hotel bedsheets below you. Spencer was slowly coming to a stop while staring at you with wide eyes.

“You’ve never done that before!” He squeaked, his eyes casting down at the glistening of your arousal painting his skin. You were fucked out, your eyes glossed over as you opened your mouth to speak, however a moan falling out soon after.

“No, no. We are doing that again!”

[alottiegoingon]

hc!friends to lovers

natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

summary: going from friends to lovers with nat

warnings: golden retriever gf x black cat gf dynamic, nat is secretly a softie, drugs and mommy/daddy issues mentions, cursing, pure fluff, not proofread

𖧊 to this day, nat still has no idea on how you two became friends. you were too different

𖧊 it started with you complimenting her makeup once and she was so rude cause she thought you were making fun of her

𖧊 “your eyeliner is so pretty,” you tried to be nice just to receive a “fuck off” and a middle finger right to your face. you were flabbergasted! you were just trying to be nice to a pretty blonde girl and now you were her enemy?

𖧊 your huge smile disappeared in seconds and when nat realized you weren’t mocking her, she got desperate. “oh, shit. you were actually serious?”

𖧊 she was constantly being slutshamed and harassed by the mean students and the idea of being complimented by you didn’t even make it to her head

𖧊 you were too sweet for her taste. too smiley, too happy, too soft and too excited. her words, not mine. but damn, you were pretty

𖧊 not that she would ever tell you that, but being friends with you was better than spending her days alone or with the other two guys she had for friends but were nothing but drug buddies

𖧊 “dude, what the fuck is that?” she grunts at the second you show her one of your favorite songs by backstreet boys “it’s so cheesy!”

𖧊 you held her arms and made her dance with you and she was so embarrassed and tried to brush it off by complaining a lot but her eyes didn’t lie. she kinda enjoyed that

𖧊 then, late at night when she’s unable to sleep, she secretly listen to the too happy and annoying shit type of songs you liked just to think of you :(

𖧊 she eventually found herself enjoying the cranberries, spice girls and lots of your catchy pop or soft songs while doing chores and would never forgive herself for that

𖧊 at first, nat was easily annoyed by you. by your overwhelming enthusiasm and positivity and how you would always see the good in others even if they didn’t deserve

𖧊 however, that didn’t mean you wouldn’t speak up for her. if anyone was caught talking shit about nat, you were always the first one to have her back. “excuse me? hi. that’s my friend you are talking about and you might wanna apologize to her right now!”

𖧊 bless your heart you really tried to be scary like her. at least the intention was there right

𖧊 “i don’t need you to defend me,” she was already snarling at you but you could see in her eyes that she didn’t mean that. she just didn’t like being vulnerable in front of others

𖧊 nat was tough, she could take care of herself. you knew that but you couldn’t let anyone be mean to her

𖧊 “i know, but i care about you!” “yeah, whatever 🙄🙂”

𖧊 and it worked the other way around as well. a single threatening glance of nat was enough to make anyone scared of even saying your name. yes, you were a pain in her ass but she was the only one who could say that

𖧊 “but you just said she was annoying,” her friend kevin defends himself from her scary look. “don’t call her that, asshole”

𖧊 nat couldn’t invite you over to her house trailer so you would usually hang out at your house or secret places she knew

𖧊 nat is a really lonely and independent person and that’s a consequence of her unstable childhood. running away from the mess she had for parents, she eventually discovered a nice small park with pretty trees around and thought it would be the perfect hiding spot

𖧊 smoking with nat? obviously a must. you would give her the old speech saying that it was terrible for her physical and mental health (🤓☝️) even if you were 100% sure that she wasn't listening and was just giving you ironic commments. "you don't say, princess"

𖧊 deep down, very deep down, she appreciated you

𖧊 “kevin told me he caught you listening to backstreet boys yesterday” you smile at her, watching her messy bleached hair cover half of her face as she smokes

𖧊 “fucking kevin,” she mutters under her breath and it’s the perfect opportunity to play around with her. “aren’t you gonna deny it? wow, you must really like me, nat”

𖧊 “shut up, princess.”

𖧊 it was meant to be ironic but since the first time she called you that, you two were sure that it was nothing but a caring nickname and you were a complete sucker for it

𖧊 spending time together became a casual thing and as essential as breathing. that didn’t go unnoticed

𖧊 showing up to support her on a game day or just practice, holding a big sign with her name written with gliter gel pens and smiley faces and cheering so loud that people near you had to cover their ears

𖧊 thanks to that, she was so flustered that couldn't focus on the actual game

𖧊 classically, the yellowjackets would always make fun of her when you were around but especially when you weren’t. “are you happy that your girlfriend came to see you today?” van teases nat and suddenly she became their favorite subject to talk about

𖧊 “she’s not my fucking girlfriend!” she flips them off and storms off to hide how unbelievably red her cheeks were

𖧊 nat didn't take long to realize she felt different about you. but her doing your eyeliner to match her after you insisted didn't help. it was pretty hard to mantain her toughness when you were lying in bed with her on top, straddling you with face so close that you could smell the blunt in her breath

𖧊 "thanks, nat. what do you think?" you ask when she's done

𖧊 "not bad. thanks to me, obviously," she acts casually but she's like 🧍🏼‍♀���😊😮‍💨😵 seeing you with her goth ass makeup

𖧊 being jealous of you near anyone who would say hi to you was also a clear sign

𖧊 going from friends to lovers with nat would be something hard for her at first. she isn't used to trusting people that much. loving someone? what was she thinking?!

𖧊 this means that she would definitely push you away, intentionally or not, and would act weird for days until you finally confronted her

𖧊 and she tries to be rude to make you leave but it doesn’t work. eventually she opens up about her feelings, shaking and at the verge of tears, and you hug her tightly

𖧊 “i like you too, nat”

𖧊 holds your chin when kissing you 😵‍💫

𖧊 jealous girlfriend that was always there to keep an eye on you but wouldn’t say the words “i’m jealous” even if her life depended on it

𖧊 dating nat meant her having part time jobs to save money for weeks just to buy you something nice for your birthday or to take you to a special place in a special occasion. you cried like a baby

𖧊 you were aware that she struggled with money and you weren't rich either, so you kept things discreet. you would come to her with a tape with lots of songs that reminded you of her, "nat, you won't believe what i made you!"

𖧊 “i have no idea, baby..." but she definitely did cause you would do that at least twice a month

𖧊 she would be the first one to say “i love you” accidentally and got so stressed trying to fix her mistake with a cough but you had heard her and was freaking out, smile from ear to ear

𖧊 “you’re a moron, i love you” it took her five seconds to go from 😁 to 😧

𖧊 “i love you too.”

𖧊 when it comes to affection, i feel like she would be hesitant at first, not knowing what to do. having sex with random people was really different from wanting to show her love for you, it was harder

𖧊 realistically, nat wouldn't be the touchy type. she never really experienced affection from her parents (at least not in a long time), so it would be something new, but wouldn't be opposed to it once she realized how comforting it felt

𖧊 100% touch starved. you stroke her cheek once and she's tearing up already

𖧊 pretends to be bothered but always melts completely when you kiss her and loves to hold hands and intertwine fingers

𖧊 not everything was perfect and sharing feelings wasn’t easy for her. either way, you were always there for her, listening to her talk about her shitty parents or just comforting her after a bad day

BONUS!!!

𖧊 if the iconic barbie movie was released in the 90s, you would BEG her to wear pink clothes to go to the movies together and she would deny it every single time

𖧊 “but it would be so cute! we would match 🥺” you insisted, knowing that she was so close to cave in

𖧊 “it’s gonna make me look stupid, i don’t wear pink. quit it, princess,” nat nods, convinced that you would eventually forget about it

𖧊 a week later, nat is found at the movie theater looking like a damn flamingo

𖧊 “what happened to you? met an unicorn on the way here?” shauna mocks her as soon as she sees the blondie wearing a bright pink suit and black boots, matching your same color dress

𖧊 “shut up,” she gives them her middle finger

𖧊 “happy wife, happy life,” tai murmurs and she just nods, defeated. shauna, tai and van, all in pink thanks to your incessant pleas, followed her to get the tickets while you and jackie were excitedly buying snacks and pink popcorn containers shaped like barbie’s car

𖧊 (she definitely cried at the end and you had to kiss her tears away)

[scribs-dibs]

so weak!

modern au, neuvillette x gn! reader, vv fluffy, written in the summer, very silly & unserious <3

wc ; ~4.5k

listened to weak by swv if you couldn't tell 🔥🔥

"it's not a phase i want you to stay with me"

To say you are fond of your new neighbor would be the understatement of the century.

Your hands are covered in a thin film of flour and yeast, and it’s a blessing that your fingers can work with just muscle memory as you knead. Your mind is elsewhere, filled to the brim with thoughts of Neuvillette. It’s not your fault, really. Anyone would be taken by him; he is unfairly, nearly inhumanly pretty. Long, fair hair and strong cheekbones, a pointed nose with a rounded bridge that leads into stunning multicolored eyes. You’d seen pretty people in magazines and movies before, of course– but seeing him in the flesh, without makeup or filters or special lighting had them all immediately paling in comparison. And the worst part? Neuvillette is one of the kindest souls you’d ever met.

If asked, you would blame the hot summer sun for the sweat that had built on top of your brow. But you were nervous. You’d gotten over most of your fears when moving into a new town, (thanks to your neighbors greeting you with a kindness warm enough to melt the coldest winters) but then, standing before the grand, white wooden door of the new stranger’s home, you had felt every blood vessel pump with anxiety. And you weren't quite sure why, either. Drawing near the door seemed to make air feel heavy in your lungs, with each step seemingly bringing you closer to your doom. You swallowed. And then you knocked.

You can't tell if you wanted to thank your past self for pushing through, or curse them for giving you your current problem.

It was not Neuvillette who had answered the door. Instead, it was a creature named Elphane— a melusine. It was a surprise, to see someone inhuman and fuzzy, but she greeted you with such goodwill you would be remiss to not do the same. The one behind her was the issue. The looming, fierce presence that stood protectively at her back, and piercing holes into your skin as he watched you. Your nerves came back to you in a rush.

It was a gift, from whatever archon was watching over you, that your meeting went without a hitch. Despite how frightened you were, Neuvillette's concerned, cool gaze melted into something softer once pleasantries were out of the way. You owe it all to your offering— a quaint and humble apple pie.

Baking was a hobby you had taken up earlier into your move. You would not describe it as the easiest thing you've done, but it does serve to ground you. To put your worries into precise measurements and knead them into dough, and then have a result that leads into something edible. Not to mention, it makes your neighbors adore you, newly-moved melusines included. And of course, you adore them too. It's their guardian that's a problem.

Neuvillette has consumed the better part of most of your waking days. You come back from work, and it is his clear multicolored eyes who greet you over the fence. They form the shape of crescents when he smiles, faint and polite, like fresh spring water. You're weak in the knees.

It is him who knocks on your door on occasion, pale skin slightly flushed as he offers you produce from his garden.

"To repay your earlier kindness," He'll say, and his voice is so rich and silky it feels as if it curls around you like a blanket. You're weak in the knees.

It is his daughters(?) that tell you what he says behind closed doors—

"Neuvillette used to dislike sweets. But he always smiles when he tries your food. Says it takes a special talent to make sweets this good. Can you make more for him?" Verenata asked you one day, teal paws cupping several macrons, "And more for me?"

You're weak.

When you're done kneading and yearning, you leave your dough covered so it can rest. You are too hyper to do the same. Out the window, the sinking sun paints the sky in warm shades of pink. Summer nights are much cooler now, such is the gift of August taking its leave.

Stepping outside gifts you with the gentle kiss of fresh air. Your small porch is one of your favorite parts of your home. When you were little, you had often wondered why it was older people sat outside and did nothing but stare out into the world above. Now older and wiser, you can understand it. It's peaceful— you could sit out here for hours and watch the sky change to reveal the stars. If not for the mosquitoes.

You sit on the second-lowest step, staring up at the softly drifting clouds and noting their different shapes. This one is similar to Ottnit's horns-- it curls around itself in a spiral. That one looks like a pancake; you wonder if you still have a box of pancake-mix in the back of your cupboard still. You wonder if you have the guts to invite Neuvillette over for breakfa—

No.

This bubbling crush is getting ridiculous. You don't even know him that well-- even though you desperately want to. You can imagine it now: the plush of his lips falling open as you ask the question, his head tilted and his pointed ears twitching (a feature that makes you wonder if the melusines aren't the only ones who aren't human, but that'd be ridiculous), before he politely refuses you. He's a busy man— at least you think him to be, because he's always hard at work. You don't know how he manages to keep such a bountiful garden so nicely kept when he is always working such long hours. On more than one occasion, you've caught him tending to it in the rain. A hard worker. A kind heart. He makes your own kick wildly in the confines of your chest.

The sky has turned more purple now, ink blotting the blush-tinted sky. Faintly, you can see the stars. Bright like those eyes of his. Like the ones that stare at you as you sit on your porch.

You nearly jump out of your skin.

And you wish you had it in you to scream at him for the scare, but he looks just as startled as you do.

He now looks at you in awe, like you've grown a second head, before he collects himself. Before you know it his demeanor is back, calm as quiet waters.

"My apologies. I didn't mean to frighten you."

And you hate him a little bit for that, too. The voice that you have imprinted into your mind, hanging on to every dip and curve of each syllable, is apologizing to you in a tone so sincere it almost hurts. He makes you ache.

Though you are screaming internally, you smile and say, "Aw, no worries Mis-" you notice how his brow is already furrowing. He's told you before, Neuvillette is fine, no need for formalities. We're neighbors, after all. "...No worries, Neuvillette. It's, uh, nice to see you."

You want to face-plant directly into the ground. Busy as he is, you see each other nearly everyday. 

If Neuvillette notices the awkwardness of your phrasing, he clearly doesn't mind. His understanding is found in an undeniably fond smile. 

"Same to you," And then your name. He says it so tenderly, like it is precious. You're going to burst into flames right here, and illuminate the darkening skies for all to see. 

There's a small beat of awkward silence, which is filled with your eyes scanning for anything to look at but him. Neuvillette stands just at the border of your fence, its gate opened but his feet firmly planted at the edges. It's like there's a barrier there, put in place so as to keep him, in specific, out. And, well, you are shivering and shaking at the mere thought of seeing him any closer, but it does feel...pitiful to have him so far away.

"You...can come closer if you want." You pat the space on the step next to you.

His eyes widen again, the same expression of surprise he had shown when he had first appeared. And again, he schools it into something more familiar, collected and calm. It's almost vampiric how he steps forward with an eagerness, but only after being invited to do so. 

You almost want to laugh-- the man is so lanky that he has to shift awkwardly to fit properly on the small step. But then he settles fully and your laugh dies immediately. You inhale, and then it dawns upon you that he's close.

Neuvillette smells fresh. Like getting misted with rain after an ongoing drought. And then something faintly sweet, like flowers-- his garden. It intoxicates you-- this was a horrible idea.

"You have my thanks,"

You can only nod. You don't trust your voice not to betray you. 

This time, the silence that follows is not awkward and stiff. It is a serene, natural thing, as you both gaze at the ever-brightening stars.

"This is lovely," comes his voice in a whisper, as if speaking too loudly will cause the sky to ripple like a stone thrown atop a pond's surface. "But...would you mind so terribly if I were to confess something?"

You are going to die.

Confess makes it sound like he was hiding something from you. Confess makes it sound like he was harboring something, keeping it close, watching it bloom. Confess makes it sound like it was blooming for you.

It chants in your ear so loudly you can barely hear it over your voice.

Confess. Confess. Confess.

"O-of course. Go ahead."

Confess. Confess. Confess.

Another one of his smiles. The moon caresses the planes of his face, and you are envious of how they brush against his cheekbones and the sharp lines of his jaw. Your eyes immediately flicker back— his cheeks. There's a faint flush brushed across them. 

"It is...a bit embarrassing, admittedly,"

Confess. Confess. Confess.

"I..had been meaning to ask.."

Confess. Confess. Confess.

"...If you would mind teaching me how you make those pastries of yours?"

The heart is a funny thing.

At first, it sinks. Your heart is but a lump in your chest now, vulnerable and lonely. You were a fool to think that someone like Neuvillette of all people would see you in that way. He is put together— a calm, guiding force for the melusines, the talk of your little neighborhood. And you? You are but a neighbor, lucky enough to be housed next to him. But then—

You wanted to know him better, didn't you?

Immediately, your mind races. Neuvillette, in your home. Neuvillette's long, pretty fingers shaky with inexperience. Neuvillette, with his eyes focused on his new task, focused on you. You feel dizzy. You are weak in the knees.

It's a horrible idea.

For one, your house must pale in comparison to his. His house is a stately one. You remember, the first time you had stepped foot in front of his door, thinking that the previous owners must've prepped it just for his arrival. A freshly painted baby-blue on the siding. Hedges trimmed to perfection. A pathway with not a single stone out of place. That big, intimidating white door, with golden detailing around the edges. Your house is not *horrible* by any means. But it is not his.

For seconds, you can barely sit next to the guy without losing what's left of your sanity.

It's a horrible idea.

"I-"

You face him, and those pearlescent eyes are boring into you. Controlled, steady, expectant.

"I would be happy to help you out!" You say too quickly, all in one breath.

Neuvillette has never really laughed in front of you. You seem to be privy to the smaller, faint smiles that make your head spin, but never a laugh.

So when you hear it for the first time— breathy and filled to the brim with mirth, you forget all about the way your heart had sunken a mere seconds ago, and fall for him all over again. Like a lovesick fool.

His smile is wide, showing teeth. You're starting to wonder if you have something going here, with him not being fully human. You swear on everything you own— his canines are sharper than normal. What's worse? It only makes you more enamored.

"It would seem I owe you my thanks again," his hand is close to yours. The tips of his gloved fingers are nearly touching your own, and that alone makes your heart want to take flight. "Looks like I'll be owing you a debt for a while still."

Your mouth opens to speak. You want to tell him that it's okay, that it's not an issue of owing you anything. That you'd walk through hell barefoot if it meant hearing that laugh again. But you don't get a chance to speak.

Because his hand, with warmth ebbing through the thin fabric, covers yours and gives it a light squeeze. It's such a small, clearly platonic motion, and yet your heart— your heart. It beats as though it means to clamber out of your chest and run for the hills. Away from the porch, away from the stars, away from his hand that fits snugly over yours. 

"Shall we meet tomorrow?"

You nod with an urgency unbefitting such a light conversation. "Of course, it's a-"

No. It's not a date. It's not anything like a date. In fact it couldn't be further from one.

"Of course." Is where you settle.

Neuvillette's smile only widens, and again you are met with those pointed teeth.

"It's a date, then."

You're going to die.

꧁꧂

You make pancakes for breakfast, but you can't taste them.

Last night, you scratched at the mosquito bites littering your forearms, but all you could feel was his hand, with warmth ebbing through the thin fabric, covering yours as he gives it a light squeeze. As you brushed your teeth this morning, you swear you could smell something fresh. Like getting misted with rain after an ongoing drought. As you spread syrup over your pancakes, your gaze was unfocused. You see those pearlescent eyes boring into you. Controlled, steady, expectant. You're going to die.

You know how to bake. At work, you browse recipes to try during your breaks. At home, if you feel sluggish, you bake to take your mind off of things. You have experience by now. But how can you trust yourself to teach someone else if that someone could send you to heaven just by smiling? It's not fair. You're doomed.

You can think of at least ten ways to call off this impromptu lesson off the top of your head. You can pretend to be sick, or flee the country, for example. But then comes your second issue: Neuvillette's disappointment. The corner of his lips turned downwards into a frown, a soft exhale leaving his too-tense shoulders. You're grieving with him at the thought. You're doomed.

There's no getting out of the hole you've dug yourself, so you take to organizing your ingredients. You are good at baking. You know how to bake. You will not trip over your own feet, or swallow your own tongue attempting to speak. You are good at this. Everything is fine.

From the door comes two firm knocks, and your life flashes before your eyes.

You are reminded of your first meeting with him, how your heart was pounding in your head, how his eyes were boring into you. And this time, it's within your own home! You open the door with as much grace and poise as a chicken without its head.

Neuvillette always looks good. In fact, good is too little of a word to describe how he looks. You could use elegant, or debonair, or divine, but it's different when he's this close.

His hair is tied back, appropriate for the mess that baking often creates, and a singular button is undone from his loose dress shirt. Neuvillette is someone who dresses without big, ornate details, but still carries a serene type of class. He feels clean and proper, even if he is dressing casually. This is the first time it hits you— you've never even seen him without gloves. Usually, he wears them for work and keeps them on thereafter, or his hands are covered with thick, rubber gardening gloves. You feel like a victorian noble, with such little exposed skin causing such a distraction. There's so much. You have a full view of the planes of his face, without wispy swipes of white obstructing your gaze.  You are leveled with a set of beautiful, strong collarbones. So much and yet—

You cannot help but stare at his uncovered, painted nails.

"Ah," he says, and again you hear him laugh-- you must be blessed. This one is lighter, a gentle breeze carrying a pleasant memory, "The melusines requested I matched with them. This was one of the ways we had decided on."

Neuvillette offers a hand, and pastel, patterned nails come into full view. The swooping swirls of Muirne. The star-like shapes of Cosanzeana. The baby-blue of Sigewinne. He carries ten of them under his gloves, with him at all times. That fact is sweet on its own. And then he says—

"We do try to alternate every few weeks or so."

Your heart melts.

You aren't quite sure what melusines are, or where they came from, but you do know that Neuvillette cares for them as he would his own kin. He's like a proud father, it's adorable.

"It wouldn't impede our baking lesson, would it?"

He's adorable.

"No! Ah, no it won't, no worries!"

 ꧁꧂

With every scan of his eyes, you become more acutely aware that this is actually happening and not some prank orchestrated by the gods. You have a million thoughts that are buzzing around uselessly in your mind, and at least half of them boil down to you should've cleaned more. You don't take Neuvillette to be the judgy type, but even so having him in your space makes you nervous. 

"So," you start, with your voice embarrassingly pitchy, "Have you made a cake before?"

A soft hum, "I have...attempted to," He averts his gaze, "With unfortunately low success."

You suppress a laugh at that-- the image of Neuvillette standing in a kitchen, looking disapprovingly at a sunken cake makes it a hard-won battle.

"Okay then! I'll try my best to help you. And then, maybe we can share it with the melusines."

Neuvillette seemed a bit tense at first, admitting his failures. But at your words, he melts, and his smile is so soft it almost seems blurry around the edges.

First, the dry ingredients.

"The mixing is the fun part, it's the measurements that can make or break the cake," You explain, feeling especially scholarly, "Too much flour will make the cake sink a bit the moment you pull it out of the oven, for example."

"I see..."

"I'll measure this part, just in case. Wanna mix?"

"Of course,"

You offer a shy smile of your own, and turn to prepare the rest of the ingredients. The sound of a whisk hitting your metal mixing bowl resounds for a moment, and then you hear your name (said tenderly, like it's precious).

As if pulled by puppet strings, you turn immediately.

And feel a dry mixture of flour brush against your face.

"Ah," He says, though he is clearly unsurprised, "My apologies."

What.

You do not, or at least had not taken Neuvillette to be the playful, mischievous type. But those pale eyes flicker to yours as he continues to mix, and that hint of a smile is playing at the corners of his lips. 

What?

Neuvillette sets the bowl down after a few more moments of whisking, and then his eyes are fully set on you once more. 

"Here," from his pocket, he produces a blue handkerchief, and before you can breathe he's getting closer, lower, "May I?"

You're weak in the knees. And you're going to die.

The sound that you make is something between and scream and a whimper, and something you're sure is entirely pathetic. That's quite enough of trying to speak, so you only nod.

His fingers —ungloved fingers— are gentle as they hook under your chin, and lift up. You aren't particularly short, but Neuvillette stands a good head above most. His touch is like dewdrops on top of flower petals, or a rainbow seen after the last drizzles of rain, or anything else delicate and dainty and sacred. You're struggling to stay upright. You mourn the fact that it's the light cloth wiping at your face, and not his opposite, uncovered hand. You're weak.

"There we are,"

And then his touch is gone, and he has stood up straight again.

"What is next?"

You are considerably more frazzled as you prepare the wet ingredients.

"I'll mix these," you say, trying to sound firm. You can't handle another heart attack. Neuvillete nods, but you know that the mirthful look in his eyes means he's enjoying this. He's a problem.

Neuvillette is never really smug. He doesn't gloat or brag about anything, despite taking pride in all that he does. You consider it a rarity that he smiles so often in front of you now, perhaps one of many benefits to living such close proximity to him, but god is it distracting. It's not filled with mockery, but he seems suspiciously content with watching you try and keep your cool. Your mixing becomes more frantic. 

This is stupid. He's only asking for a favor, only wants to make better treats for those dear to him. He just happens to have a stupidly smooth voice, and a stupidly pretty smile, and stupidly unashamed eyes that bore at you as you work, and—

Okay, so fuck him actually. 

With a quick flick of the wrist, and the wet mixture is splattered in little droplets across his face.

You know it has to be a touch more gross than simple flour and baking powder, but if that was a concern maybe he wouldn't have started this little war.

"My apologies." You say echo, feeling particularly proud.

"Seeking out justice with your own hands, are you?" his query is something that rumbles, waves building up and up and up before they come to crash. You would feel unnerved, if not for the way that his eyes shine with a sudden playfulness. It's so different from the Neuvillette you thought you knew, the one who is polite but passive, restrained and reserved at all times. You're seeing more and more of this new side of him, and you feel yourself becoming greedy for more. This was a horrible idea.

"It's only fair," Turning, you continue to mix. That's enough of looking at his face, blessed be.

Except the gods are *done* being on your side, apparently.

"If I recall," along with that steady voice, your shoulders are gripped by equally steady shoulders, "I cleaned up the mess I had made."

You're spun, to look at him. The metal mixing bowl nearly falls out of your arms. You're going to die. You're going to die, and your neighbor will be your undoing.

Neuvillette is looking at you, focused like you are mere prey quivering before him, luminescent eyes crinkled at the edges. It's unfair. There is a mixture of egg and buttermilk drying on his cheek, and yet you feel flustered by his gaze nonetheless.

"For it to truly be fair, you should return the favor, no?"

Your voice is meek and squeaky, but you manage.

"Oh..o-oh! Okay!"

His face is smooth. You're dangerously toeing the line between awe and jealousy as you reach for his cheek, full and unmarred by any bumps or blemishes. You're sure you're being obvious in your ogling of him, taking your sweet time to wipe the remnants of ingredients from his face, but Neuvillette seems like he's enjoying this. His eyes are so light, normally. But now, the whole of his irises are swallowed by a deep, inky black. Much like the night sky you saw yesterday.

Confess. Confess. Confess.

You must be seeing things.

꧁꧂

The rest of your baking is, mercifully, without another incident. You put the cake in the oven, are inhumanely fast while making the buttercream, and now sit under a familiar sunset.

You just need to survive until your timer goes off. 

"Neuvillette," comes your voice, breezy, "Why the sudden interest in baking?"

The man in question lowers the tie neatly pulling his hair into place, lowering the band so his hair nearly drips onto his shoulders.

"...There are a few reasons," there is a heaviness in that answer, and you feel he is indeed speaking the truth. Neuvillette is rarely one to hesitate, "But I suppose the main one would be to better cater to the melusines."

Your brows furrow at that. From what you can tell, Neuvillette is the best guardian the strangely charming creatures could offer. They sing nothing but his praises, and you know that he would do anything for them if they so much as batted their eyes up at him.

"They have taken a liking to sweets. Yours, especially," The way he looks at you is achingly tender, sweet, "While you've never expressed your discomfort with them, I figured I should share your burden of requests, or at the very least attempt to."

You're weak.

"Oh... Oh! It's no trouble at all, seriously," you nudge him with your elbow, "I like talking with them, and it's not like they just demand them."

Scattered around your home, assortments of shiny rocks and gems and trinkets decorate your shelves and end tables. They had at first insisted on paying for your goods, but at your refusal they had taken to a sort of trade instead. You adore them and their pint-sized company.

"It seems I've done well in that regard, then." Says your neighbor, with the rightful pride of a successful father.

"You have! They're the sweetest, really, so there's no need to worry."

That steady, comfortable silence wraps you in its embrace once more. A question pounds restlessly in the back of your mind.

"...If it's okay to ask, what are your other reasons?"

There is a subtle quirk to his lips, one you would not have noticed if your eyes weren't frustratingly glued to his face. It's like he was waiting for you to ask.

"Well," his voice is so soft, almost as light as your head feels. your eyes are focused on the inky black that swallows his own. Then, your eyes flicker to the whole of him— his cheeks. There's a faint flush brushed across them.

Confess. Confess. Confess.

"I've grown terribly fond of my neighbor, you see."

You don't know if he'd said anything else after that. You can hear nothing but the rapid beating of your heart, and the small ding! of your timer going off.

╌────═❁═────╌

thank you for reading! reblogs w/comments appreciated <3

[rarepears]

For the PR AU, can we please talk about how the other Peak Lords would react to SQQ comming to a meeting with the most luxurious makeup in the world?

Shen Qingqiu is going to look even more like a bitch. He's looking so perfect that he looks like a doll but then his words...

The PR packages come with instructions/instructions on how to replicate makeup looks like "peach drunken beauty", "crying", and more (ok this is me not remember what other trending douyin makeup looks there are) and Shen Qingqiu naturally tries them out.

He kind of... has fun? It's certainly hilarious seeing how the peak lords do a doubletake at seeing him go from having long cateye eyes to big doll eyes the next. The peak lords can't pinpoint the changes in his appearances but they do know that something is DIFFERENT. The vibes are OFF. Since when were his lips so plump and red?? Why do his eyes look more bright? Since when where his lashes so long - why are they paying more attention and counting Shen Qingqiu's individual lashes??

(Shen Qingqiu learns the magic of fake eyelashes of course.)

Mu Qingfang tries to check Shen Qingqiu for a fever when Shen Qingqiu came in looking quite flushed once.

Qi Qingqi curses yet again why such a despicable man was blessed with such celestial beauty. She can't see any rouge on those lips, but the red of the lips can't be real! No wrinkles in sight of his lips. No lip marks on his tea cup. How????

(Heh, the magic of velvet lip tints.)

Yue Qingyuan has a mini heart attack when Shen Jiu comes in looking like he just cried.

Also imagine someone dumping water over Shen Qingqiu's head and Shen Qingqiu's makeup stays looking perfect. They all think Shen Qingqiu isn't wearing makeup now.

[sigmathesillyenigma]

asher x reader , david x reader highschool sweethearts headcanons :3

afab reader

david shaw who comes to "pick you up" from every class, even if it was on the way to another one. no matter how fast you try to be, he's always faster, never failing to take his place leaned up against your locker, arms crossed as he watches you get held behind and scolded by your teacher. was it so hard to just turn your damn work? apparently for you, it was.

"alright, let's go. if you keep getting held behind after your classes i'm gonna start being late to mine. at least try to stay in school, dumbass."

asher talbot who before he started dating you, kept next to nothing in his bag. all he needed was his phone, a banana from two months ago, and a couple books from that day's classes. when you two got together, his bag was suddenly full of all your things. period stuff, painkillers, chapstick, jewellry, shorts for p.e because you keep forgetting to put them in your bag, basically everything. asher didn't mind it one bit. it made him feel important, like by carrying your stuff it made up for his all dickheadery during your classes together (it did not).

"hmm?- do i still have your gum? noo, nope, all gone. yes, i'm telling the truth- okay fine. yes, you have ONE piece of gum left butit'sthestrawberryflavorandyouknowthatsmyfavoriteandagoodpartnerwouldletmehaveitbecauseyoureagoodpartnerandyoulovemeandandand- thank you babe :3"

david shaw who after an argument with you, wakes you up at 11pm to soft knocking at your window. he has a key to your front door, but he wasn't planning on staying long anyway. you force yourself out of bed to let him in, but don't dare to look at him as he pulls himself up into your room. for a while, you two just stand there, letting the night pass before he breaks the silence.

"uh.. about before. i uhm .. didn't meant to say that. it'd just been a long day i guess and i kind of. blew up on you. i'm sorry. really, i am. i hate seeing you get sad and .. shit. uh- i'll go. it's late, and you probably- hm? you.. want me to stay? uhh, yeah, yeah sure. i can do that. let's .. go sit."

asher talbot who lets you do his makeup. he doesn't have that visceral shame a lot of people your age seem to share, which is both a blessing and a curse. tonight though, as you jab little rhinestones onto his pink eyelid with the precison of a preschooler, it's definitely a blessing.

"oh babe, look. at. me. i am stunning- what? what are you doing? taking a- no, nononononononoo babe. please. milo will never let me live this down. if you send that to him i swear to god he'll rock up to school tomorrow with my face on a shirt. babe? where are you going? BAABE!!"

-

@definetelynuwonhere @skunkox @huxleaf

[dearestdolly444]

Can tadc have victorian goth witch ? Her favourite film probably would be Love Witch...

Her dress and her witch hat has spider and siper webs accessory..

And calls them all with a "darling" nickname in a platonic way and kinda she is like a rich aunt to them and she is a good listener and has dark humor too

İ loved your blog btw

⛧°。⋆TADC x witchy!reader⋆。°⛧

Giggles this is my first anon request

As a witch, this made me so happy to get! I love that movie so much omg. And thank you cutie💕

If you’d like a part two let me know<3

Warnings: implied platonic, but could be seen as romantic

Characters: Caine, Gangle, Kinger

now playing…

Caine

- Lets be honest, he’s not going to approve of your choice in movies. The Love Witch isn’t exactly PG… but he’ll let you watch Sabrina The Teenage Witch! That’s close enough, right—?

- He might let you tone down the colours of your bedroom, but doesn’t let you change it to dark colours like black, sadly. Still have to keep the circus theme!

- Caine likes your style but would try to coax you to wear something more colourful. Maybe try a bright yellow! Or a neon pink! No? Oh well, maybe next time (it won’t work next time either).

- Calls you nicknames right back! A shortened version of your name, “dear,” or maybe “toots.” Gets a bit more peppy-in-his-steppy when you call him something when he’s not expecting it.

- Appreciates when you listen to the other circus members issues. It means less abstractions, which means less work for him… but really, he does find it quite helpful and sweet!

- Does not, however, appreciate your sense of humour. Will probably slap a censor on you when he thinks you’re being ”inappropriate” so you’ll have to tone it down, at least around him.

Gangle

- She’s attached to you, honestly. She just gets so happy and giddy when you call her “darling.” Depending on her mask, she might even give you a small nickname back. She’s be very shy about it, though…

- Adores your style even though she wouldn’t personally wear it. It just looks so good on you, probably not on her, though. She’s feel very flattered if you offered to dress her up, or even in the real world AU do her makeup. She’d probably let you but don’t go to heavy on everything. And it’s not staying on for a long time. She doesn’t like to feel very confined.

- Gangle will vent to you if you let her. If she’s feeling sad, she’ll seek you out to help her. She’ll either want comfort or light advice, so ask her beforehand.

- She finds 1/2 your humour hilarious and the other 1/2 kind of spooky… it really depends on her mask that day. She might make jokes with you or she might just give you a “😨” kind of look, LMAO😭

- Might watch movies with you, but she’ll cling to your arm when scary parts pop up. It’s not that she doesn’t like the movies or shows, it just creeps her out a little.

Kinger

- He’s a little afraid of you at first. He thinks you’ll curse him or something. He gets used to you, but sometimes he’ll scream and run away when you just appear there (He didn’t see you walk in).

- Once you’re there for a couple digital months he gets much more comfortable and even invites you in his pillow fort! Please say yes, it’ll make him so happy. Speaking of activities, he would also ask to find insects with you, seeing how you seem to like spiders. He probably thought you had real spiders on your clothes before he realized they were just decoration.

- Bless his soul, he doesn’t understand your humour. He asks about your jokes every time, and at this point you just pat him on the head and tell him not to worry about it.

- He likes to rant to you about anything. Sometimes it doesn’t even make sense, but you still listen. It makes him really excited to talk about how he once saw a game show that starred dogs in his dreams. And he also likes to vent, but it ends up in him talking about his next grand pillow fort..

- He giggles slightly when you call him petnames. If he had feet, they would be kicking. He probably doesn’t call you anything back, but he appreciates it! If he does call you something, it’s “dear.”

[fernandopiastri28]

hi can u do a one shot smut of oscar fucking a virgin reader gently in front of a mirror with praises? thank u <3

ofc! hope u enjoy :))

look at yourself ~ op81 (s)

word count: 3.5k

Y/N’s head tilts back, revealing more of her neck to Oscar’s hungry lips. “You got second place,” Her fingers tangle up in the hair on the back of his head, “You fucking bastard- you just had to do it at the once race I couldn’t get to in time?”

Oscar snorts, pulling back enough for her to see his expression, “Sorry, I’ll just mess up every time that Uni coincides with a race,” His voice was seeping with sarcasm and fondness. “Next time, I’ll book you out my private jet so you can always be with me,” His nose nudges against her jawline, his teeth scraping her soft skin.

“Osc, can’t do that- we’re going to see your parents tomorrow,” Her hand presses against his chest, trying to create some space between their bodies.

“What, booking out my jet? What does that have to do with my parents?” His voice is bated, no control or restraint within him.

“The hickeys, stupid,”

Oscar laughs, not letting up. ‘You have makeup,’ He reasons. He knows what he wants, and he wants it now.

Y/N sucks in a heavy breath, finally caving. Her body melts against Oscar’s- giving in to what she wants so badly too. “Fine, go crazy,” Yet, she doesn’t give him the option to mark her neck up as her lips meet his- sloppy and eager mouths battling for dominance.

“I love you,” He smiles against her lips, his hands mapping out the curve of her waist and hips.

She hums contently, tilting her head to get better access to him. “Mm, already?” She giggles. It’s only been a few short months of them being official after months and months of being ‘just friends’.

They’d met at a dinner party (emphasis on party) that Liam had hosted, Y/N’s friends with Liam’s girlfriend Hannah, and obviously Oscar’s friends with Liam, and after seeing each other for the first time that night- they both knew they didn’t want to be apart unless they had to be.

Obviously though there was a lot of time that they were forced apart, namely, most race weekends. With her being at university full time and Oscar racing- there was near to no overlap where they could spend more than a few hours or days together. There had only been 2 races she’d been able to attend so far, which made sense given they were still keeping their relationship on the downlow.

“Yes, already,” His hands slide up the back of her shirt, fingers spread across her lower back. “Always, infact,” His nose nudges against hers, bumping against each other when they kiss.

Oscar’s lips trail down her neck, kissing along the skin that’s only just visible above her strapless top. “Oh- fuck, Osc,” Her hands move up into his hair, yanking it probably a bit too hard.

“This when you’re supposed to say you love me too,” His voice isn’t too serious, more joking around and casual.

“You-“ Y/N looks up at him with bright eyes and sore cheeks, “You know I love you, I loved you first,” Her hands move to undoing the buttons of his polo, cursing him for doing them all up like some posh school-boy dork.

“Not possible,” He grins into her mouth, pushing back into her. They end up with her back to the wall and his arms caging her in- typical.

When he pulls back, his lips are dark and shiny from her lipgloss. He drags a rough finger along it, then puts it against his teeth, sucking on it. “You taste good,” He murmurs, dipping down again to kiss her jaw.

The whine that leaves her mouth is pathetic, not sure what to insinuate next. Oscar’s hard, understandably, and she’s soaked, even more understandably. Usually by this point, she drops to her knees and sucks him off, then he lays her down on the bed and goes down on her until she’s had at least 5 orgasms.

Because Oscar refuses to be the one to gain more pleasure from the experience. It’s a blessing and a curse, because as much as it feels so good, it also leaves Y/N’s legs aching and her body spent the next morning.

But she doesn’t want another night of blowjobs and head- despite that she actually loves both. She wants more, she wants what she has with Oscar to seem like more than a casual post race hookup, because it is. What she feels for him is more than she’s ever felt for anyone.

“Hey, you okay?” Oscar’s thumb slides down her cheeks, his voice calm and his eyes soft. “You still with me?”

It’s that kind of care and softness that Y/N craves. She wants to see Oscar in the most intimate ways- more than when she has his cock in her mouth and he’s weak at the knees and rough with his hands in her hair.

“Let’s have sex,” The sentence tumbles out of her mouth before she can word it more elegantly, “Tonight,”

Oscar’s mouth drops into an O, his pearly white bottom row of teeth only just in view. His eyes are dark and wide- his expression unreadable. “Really?”

“Yes, god, a million times yes,” Her hands hitch up the back of his shirt, her fingers dipping into the taut muscles across the back of his waist. “Please, Osc, I’m ready,”

Oscar has this look of panic and discern spread across his beautifully masculine features, yet buried below, he’s excited- he’s fucking thrilled. This has been a long time coming, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

“You’re absolutely sure?” Y/N fights back the urge to roll her eyes at his intense need for reassurance. It is sweet though, she’ll give him that. Better than the opposite of him acting without permission.

“I am absolutely sure,”

“You tell me if we need to stop, okay?” His fingers drag along her forearms, cold fingertips along hot skin. “We’ll use the light system. Green if you want me to keep going, orange if you want me to change something, red if I need stop,”

He doesn’t move an inch until she gives him confirmation that she understands, “Gotcha, go for green,” She visibly cringes at her own words, but Oscar doesn’t quite catch it.

“Go for green,” He nods, laughing to himself. “Yeah, indeed,” One of his hands squeezes into her waist, his thumb pressing into her front so hard Y/N’s sure she’ll have a purple oval bruise as evidence of this tomorrow morning.

Their mouths slot in together, as naturally as they have every time they’ve kissed before. This time though, it’s different, they’re about to have sex.

Sex for the first time together, sex for the first time ever for her.

“Is it gonna hurt?” She whispers into his mouth, worrying the words might disappear into the dark and wet heat.

Oscar pauses, his other hand drifting through her hair with a feather soft touch, “It might,” He replies truthfully, “It won’t be intentionally, but it’s your first time- so it might be painful,” His thumb rubs continuous circles into her hip.

“You tell me if it hurts- okay?” His head tilts enough for his eyes to each the same level as Y/N’s. “Red light, remember?”

“Red light if it hurts,”

“Good girl,” Butterflies swarm her stomach at how prettily it comes out of his mouth. It’s not in a weird and kinky way, but genuine and full of love.

Oscar’s hand that was in her hair moves down to her skirt, which is too long to hitch up, so his thumb runs down along her inner thigh through the silk material. He applies just a bit of pressure, enough to where his fingertips hit the soaked material of her panties.

Oscar bites down on his lips, his eyebrows tightly knotted together- it’s his concentration face, sans his tongue poking out between his lips. “You can take it off,” Her voice barely hits his ears, but it’s enough.

He hooks his index fingers into the waistband, tugging it down. It pools around her feet, her body running cold without the addition of her skirt on her body. “Beautiful,” Oscar murmurs, kneeling down in front of her. “May I?”

Y/N nods, her lips pressed tightly together as to not puke all over Oscar. She’s never been more nervous.

Oscar’s tongue laps along the wet material of her panties, his eyes huge as he stares up at her. He would happily spend the rest of his days like this, hours between her legs without a single interruption from the outside world.

On any other day, she’d be content with this. She’d be happy to just get off on this, being forced to walk around on shaky legs the next day, but it’s different tonight. She has her heart set on having sex, and she’s not a force to be reckoned with.

Please, Osc,” The voice that comes out of her own mouth is unfamilar, so much more desperate than she’s ever been. “Need you ‘nside me,”

A switch seems to flick in Oscar’s mind- determind and chasing for victory, his mindset in the car. He’s back up on his feet before she can blink, his hands gripping the backs off her thighs as he picks her up with one smooth movement.

“God, you taste like heaven,” He suckles on her neck, his fingers digging into the flesh of her ass while her legs wrap around his waist.

On the track, Oscar is patient and calculated, he knows how to control himself. It’s what makes him such a great driver- makes him world champion material. But of it, when he’s with Y/N, his brain goes white hot, unable to string a coherent thought beyond her, her, her.

Especially now, when he’s about to be inside her.

One of his thumbs nudges against her clothed clit, and her back arches automatically. “Fuck, need these off you,” He murmurs, unable to stay occupied with one part of her still for more than. a single moment as he makes the way into his hotel room.

He’s got one hand permanently planted on her ass, keeping her upright, while his other hand slides her top over his head and tosses it across the room, and his hand goes back down to rub her clit. He fiddles with the door handle, finally getting it open after far too much effort.

He lays her down on the bed, kneeling hovering above her. One of his knees rests directly between her thighs, his elbows on either side of her head. His mouth is hot on hers, wetter and more intense with each tug his teeth makes on her bottom lip. “Are you trying to consume me or something?” Her arms gently wrap around the back of his neck, laughing to force away the nerves.

Oscar calms down, grinning against her mouth. “Sorry,” His cheeks are hot to the touch, flushed across his nose. “Just, wow, you,” He doesn’t have to say another word, his bright eyes are enough indication of how fond he is.

He fumbles with the button of his jeans, tugging down the tight material. Y/N isn’t one for liking skinny jeans on men, but Oscar might be the only exception in the world. His muscular thighs straining against the dark fabric, and his perfect ass, yeah- wow.

One of his hands tugs his jeans fully off, tossing them off somewhere in the dark room, while his other hand sneaks under her shoulders and unsnaps the clasp of her bra in one swift move.

Just a reminder that he’s much more experienced in this field then she is. In all fairness, before Y/N, he’d had one girlfriend back in highschool, so it’s not like she’s having her first time with a guy who’s been with a million girls- but it’s equally as daunting.

He pulls it off, biting his bottom lip at the sight of her bare chest, “I’m a weak man,” He groans, dipping his head to wrap his pink lips around one of her nipples, the bud immediately hardens in his mouth.

“Shi- Oscar, fuck,” Her vocabulary is pretty damn limited tonight to different variations of his name and curses. Her hips rut up against his shamelessly, like a dog in heat.

Oscar grounds his thigh into her cunt, letting her rub up against it. “Yeah, so good baby, use it,” He nods against her shoulder, kissing her cheek and jaw. “So good for me, baby,”

Y/N is about to cum, she’s so sure of it. It’s so embarrassing, humping her boyfriend’s leg, once again- like a dog. “Osc,”

“It’s okay, baby, just let it out,” His voice is the only thing keeping her from fucking falling into pieces right now. The tight coil in her stomach goes warm and the same heat spreads across her already damp underwear.

“Fuck,”

Oscar tugs her underwear down, scrunching them up in his palm and tucking them under his pillow. Dirty dog was probably going to use them later to get off.

His eyes go bright at the sight of her spent and exposed cunt, as if it’s his first time ever seeing one. “I love you,” He whispers, scooting down so he’s face to face with her heat again. “I love you, baby, so much.” He kisses along her inner thighs, up to the neatly cut hair over her sex.

“Not just because we’re-“

“Don’t say that, you know it’s not just because we’re about to make love,” He looks up at Y/N with big round eyes and an earnest expression, “Because I love you, and I want to make you happy,”

“I love you too,” Her thumb flicks a curl off his forehead, idly wrapping another lock around her index finger. She stares up at the ceiling, trying to imagine how this is going to play out.

Oscar’s taking a while, she thinks, but maybe that’s how it’s supposed to go. He’s not fingering her, or using his mouth, he’s just staring at her cunt, the air out of his nose cold against it.

That is until the click of a tube lid breaks the silence, then a squirt, then the whiny groan of Oscar’s moans. Oh, lube. Oscar’s touching himself.

He’s getting ready for her, he’s getting ready to be inside of her. Her insides go warm and her skin goes clammy, she’s not scared- she’s just.. it’s a lot.

“Baby?” Oscar hums, his lips unmoving against her inner thigh. The saliva from his prior kisses in that spot begin to dry over, sticky and unpleasant. “I’m gonna touch you now, alright?”

When he doesn’t receive a proper response, his lays his palm out on her stomach, “Colour?”

“Green,”

“Good,” A slicked up finger slides past her tight walls, her body loosening around the invasion. It feels better than when she does it to herself- Oscar’s fingers are thicker and longer, more experienced, embarrassingly enough.

Oscar moves his body so he’s hovering over her again, his hair falling over his face as he looks down at her. She could cry, it’s so much all at once.

The finger pushes all the way in until the last knuckle, then out, then back in again, pulling a string of whines from her mouth. Oscar swallows each moan up eagerly, smirking proudly. “Please, more,” Her eyes flutter between open and closed, unable to keep herself looking at his smug expression for more than two seconds- she might cum if she does.

Oscar nods once, retracting the finger and sliding in one next to it. It burns slightly, nothing too painful or uncomfortable, but nice. It feels good, hot and pleasantly tingly.

Oscar’s free hand drifts over her hair as he pulls his fingers out, the wetly lubed up hand moves to stroke his cock a final few times, before he nudges the head against her hole. “Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

Then it all goes quiet. Oscar pushes inside with one swift move, his hands framing her face, his lips on hers. It doesn’t feel like anything she’d get before- there’s nothing to compare it to. It’s a lot about the heat of it, the coldness even. Her blood feels cold inside of her, hot flesh keeping it in.

It feels amazing. “Oscar,” She moans, pushing her ass down and curving her back up. She knew Oscar was big, she’s felt it pulsing inside of her cupped hand, she’s felt it in her mouth- but it’s completely different properly inside.

Oscar seems captivated by the twitch of her face and body, the way her eyes open to only reveal the whites, the way her mouth hangs awkwardly open as she tries to find something to say. “I want you to see yourself,” Oscar hums, his nose nudging against her cheek, his hips dragging back and forth.

“Can I?” Her eyes narrowed, hazily and blissed out. Based on how Oscar was acting, she must look good, plus, she’d love to see the full image of him inside her. Her head turns to look at the full length mirror across the foot of the bed, ideas lighting up in her mind.

Oscar pulls out, pecking at her lips when she whines at the loss. “Onto your hands and knees, face the mirror,” He instructs her, turning on one of the bedside lamps. It’s dim, only enough to help her see herself vaguely when she rolls onto her stomach.

“Tired?” Oscar laughs as he watches her lay there unmoving, feeling spineless and weak. She groans, looking over her shoulder at him. His arms are crossed over his chest, his body pale and thick with muscle. His features are delicately crafted, he’s beautiful. “Here we go,” His arms move to scoop her up, manhandling her into the exact position he wants.

Then he kneels between her, and before he even pushes back in, her eyes go wide. Oscar’s got both hands gripping her hips, pulling them back towards him, his thumbs pressing into the curve of her ass. His hair curls over his forehead, floppy and uncontrolled. His face glows with a healthy sex brightness- if that’s even a thing.

He looks bright and perfect, she looks wrecked. Her lip gloss is smudged, bits of it rubbing onto Oscar’s neck, her tits are marked up with pink bites and bruises, her hair is a mess.

It’s an Oscar mess, she’s been ruined by Oscar. “God, you’re so pretty,” His face moves next to hers, his eyes meeting hers in the reflection in the mirror. “Can’t believe this is real,” He sounds a bit starstruck.

“Can’t believe you’re real,” She bites her bottom lip, turning her head so their noses touch. “Cmon, Oscar, fuck me already,” The grin on her face can’t leave, it’s permanently indented on her.

“Okay,” His lips curl up, his hips nudging forward until he’s fully inside of her. His back straightens up, leaning back as he thrusts in and out of ehr, “Fuck, you’re so… so beautiful,” He hums, smoothing his palms over her back.

Y/N cranes her neck to make eye contact with her reflection, groaning at the sight. It’s perfect, Oscar looks perfect. He keeps telling her she does too, so maybe he’s right.

She moans with each movement he makes, “Osc, Osc,” She’s chasing her high, and he’s helping her towards it. Oscar places his thumb under her chin, tilting her head back enough that when he leans over, their mouths meet in a clash of spit and teeth.

It’s probably the most awkward kiss they’ve ever had, but it feels like pure ecstasy. “You feel so good,” Praises seem to spill from his mouth, his lips kissing along her shoulders from behind. “Look at yourself, what a sight,”

She does, her head tilts back down to look in the mirror- watching him go in and out, consuming each bit of her. Soon enough, he reaches a hand down in between her upper thighs, two of his fingers rubbing against her aching clit.

A burning white sensation feels her body as the tightness in her stomach releases, her back arching into him and a whine pulls from the back of her throat.

She doesn’t register when Oscar finishes, only when he pulls out and lays her down. “You were so good,” He whispers, breath heavy against her ear. He leaves for only a moment, returning with a damp cloth to clean her off. “How was that?” Each movement is soft and calculated, soothing to her worn out body.

“So good,” Her smile is probably stupidly dopey, but she couldn’t care less- she feels amazing.

“You were perfect, always are,” He dips in to kiss her lips, scooping her up. “Let’s take a bath, yeah?”

She doesn’t respond, just buries her face into his chest and goes quiet. He doesn’t need her words, just seeing her tired smile on her face is enough.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 34: Fitz's Curtain Call

Previous Masterlist Next

June 1905

TW: mind control, captivity

"So here's how I see it, sir," said Fitz, walking down the hallway of the auction house alongside Miss Lily. "You want money, a motivation I'm well equipped to understand. I want an easy life with a rich, soft-hearted vampire. Putting aside the part where you kidnapped and brainwashed me, our interests align."

"They do indeed," said Miss Lily with a wicked grin. "I'm so glad you turned out to be so very reasonable."

Fitz, of course, was trying to cover up his terror with bluster, a technique he had honed very well over years of confidence schemes. He could feel the tug of the vampire thrall, feel it dampening his urges to escape or resist, feel it lulling his mind into submission. And it felt good, that was the worst part about it -- so easy to let his mind drift away from him, to dream about his newfound desire for fangs to sink deep in his neck. That particular fantasy was hard to deny, something akin to hunger or lust, filling his all too eager thoughts with the image of offering himself, and --

Shit. He had to stay focused. God damn these annoying, powerful, sexy, desirable vampires.

The enthrallment he'd been placed under hadn't done enough for his nerves. He still felt like he did the night before a big opening. Normally, the danger of an audience not liking him was that he'd be going hungry. Now, the danger was much, much more acute.

"Penny for your thoughts?" said Miss Lily, ruffling his hair. "You think too much for a thrall."

"Yes, the blessing and the curse you've afforded me," he said. "...Not that I'm complaining about the spell I'm under. Sir." He was fairly certain he still had something like wit to his name, and didn't want to encourage Miss Lily to change her mind on that point.

"So then, what are you thinking about?"

"The preparations for your little vampire soiree, sir," he said. "I was hoping I'd get a chance to take a shower and comb my hair. After all, it might be my final curtain call."

"So dramatic." Miss Lily laughed. Well, easy for her to do when she wasn't the one being sold. "Don't worry, you have an appointment with our chief stylist."

Fitz's eyes narrowed. He watched as a vampire led a group of empty-eyed thralls down the hall, all of them dressed in simple linens and looking like they hadn't been washed in days. "Are you serious about having a chief stylist, or are you pulling my leg, sir?"

"Oh, I'm very serious. I told you several times that you're prize merchandise."

"Lovely. So how does one style prize merchandise for vampires, sir? Am I going to be trussed up and placed on a silver platter, with an apple in my mouth for garnish?"

"No."

"Of course not, the platter wouldn't be silver. Gold, then, sir."

"It's actually traditional for high quality thralls to be put in fancy ball dress to be sold off."

"Well, you're in great luck, sir. Despite my intimidating masculinity, I actually pull off a dress very well." He was speaking from experience on this, as he'd had to wear all sorts of women's costumes for various theatrical and hiding-from-cops reasons. "They're all very low cut, I assume, to better show off the neck?"

"Oh, you do catch on quickly."

Miss Lily showed him in to a large, sumptuous dressing room, the kind that would be the envy of any of the small-time theaters he'd performed in. There was an impressively formidable vanity covered in all sorts of makeup, some of it very expensive-looking, but what really caught Fitz's eye were the racks of elaborate ball gowns. Miss Lily certainly wasn't pulling his leg about that particular detail.

"Hello, Florence!" said Miss Lily with the cheer of a woman who was about to have a very lucrative evening. "I've brought my special project for you!"

"Special project indeed," said the older woman, scrutinizing Fitz with a practiced eye like a jeweler appraising a stone. "Well, he's handsome, at least."

"Oh, you've got a good eye," said Fitz with a grin. "It's vitally important that I'm dressed to impress, sir, and I want to accentuate my finer points, of which I have many. Whatever will make me irresistible to Miss Lily's friend with the deep pockets."

Miss Florence's eyebrow lifted. "This is the thrall you're preparing for Alexander?"

"Alexander keeps telling me he wants a companion thrall, one who reads and plays instruments. He hates the recent trend of meek and muted thralls," said Lily. "Fitz here is very much the opposite."

"Exactly, sir," said Fitz, strangely eager to please these vampires, launching into his little spiel. "I can read, I can play guitar, I can do magic tricks, I can do real magic if you give me enough preparation time, I can tell your future, I can juggle oranges, I can wash windows, bake bread, mend fences, sew, and I play a mean game of poker. Plus, the handsome face, of course."

"Oh, my dear sweet devil. Be quiet, young man," said Miss Florence, placing her hand on his head, and suddenly he felt a deep compulsion to follow her command and stay perfectly still. She was looking him over more closely now. "He's far more charming when he shuts his mouth."

"They say that about me, too," said Miss Lily. "Perhaps that's why we get on so well."

Fitz couldn't help the small laugh that escaped him. He did respect Miss Lily, in a way, apart from the thrall that was placed on him. She played a good con game, and judging by the sheer expense of the outfit she had on tonight, she was raking in the cold, hard cash. Selling people for money was several bridges too far for him, but in another life where she weren't a vampire and had at least a faint impression of a moral compass, they could've gotten along.

"Anyway, I'll leave him in your capable hands," said Miss Lily. "Despite his talkative streak, you have absolutely nothing to fear from him in terms of obedience. He's a pushover to any kind of thrall, or even simply praise and flattery."

And any good thoughts about Miss Lily evaporated, as Fitz scowled at being described as an easy mark. It was far more true than he'd like it to be.

"Is that so?" said Miss Florence, petting his hair. "Can you be docile and still for me, child?"

"Yes, sir," he heard his voice say, meek and mild. He already hated Miss Florence's powers, his words catching in his throat and his muscles disinclined to obey his commands. The forced meekness and artificial calm made him feel so vulnerable. But he had no choice but to allow himself to be led to the dresses. Miss Florence was rummaging about, pulling this and that dress and putting them together on a rack.

"Here, I've put out appropriate dresses that could potentially fit and which might appeal to Miss Lily's friend with the deep pockets, as you so crassly put it," she said. "Go ahead and pick which one appeals to you."

Several days of thrall and prison related brain fog had made Fitz's decision-making skills -- dubious at the best of times -- particularly rusty. He didn't really know anything about his prospective buyers. He didn't really know anything about vampires and what would appeal to or discourage them, apart from necks pumping with blood. He could choose based on his complexion and hair, but --

"Focus, child. What calls to you?"

Fitz could feel Miss Florence's power over him lifting a bit. "I need to know what is most likely to appeal to the best target buyers, sir," he said. "For example, if older vampires are more well-mannered, I might go with older styles, but if --"

"You should choose what you want to wear. It's the only choice I allow thralls to make in this room," she said, her irritation apparent.

"Sir, what I want to wear is whatever will help me avoid being chained in a dank basement by a sadist, or a surgical removal of my personality, or -- " Fitz felt the spell being cast on him again, stopping his voice. 

"I'll allow you to try this one more time. You are to choose what you want. Not what you think an unknown patron would want, or what Miss Lily thinks you need to wear. What you want."

What he wanted? Fitz could start with freedom, even a few more days of it. That night of the magic show could easily be his last night as anything resembling a free man, and for all he knew, tonight was the last night he'd get to laugh and joke and pretend as though everything was fine.

When it came to what he wanted, a fancy ball dress didn't rate very high on his list of priorities.

Pointing this out would simply get him another swift dose of thrall dampening his voice, so instead he did what she wanted and perused the rack for something that might look flattering on him. If this was truly going to be his last night as anything resembling Phantom Fitz, he might as well go for the flashiest dress available.

Or perhaps he'd be purchased by a vampire who would appreciate his dramatic flair and show him mercy.

Perhaps he'd be purchased by a vampire who would appreciate breaking a confident human.

Regardless of the risk, he pulled out a very low cut dress made of crushed velvet in a deep red shade, the color of fresh blood, with golden trim. It was a stunning gown, exactly the sort of thing he might find alluring if he were a bloodsucking fiend. It was also suitably dramatic for a night that felt like both a beginning and an ending.

He checked the bust area as he looked it over, wondering how much padding he might need to wear with it, if it would accommodate him at all -- and he realized that it actually seemed cut for a man's figure. It did make sense that they stocked gowns cut this way, if they expected all of the fancy grade-A thralls to wear them.

"There you go," said Miss Florence, laying her hands on his shoulders, the hypnotic silence settling over his mind once more. "Now drop, and be calm and utterly still for me."

It was like cotton fluff filling his mind, dampening his thoughts. He could feel himself straining against it, so anxious from not being able to process and plot and scheme, but with no way of expressing that. He expected the peaceful nature of Miss Florence's power might be nice if he actually relaxed, but he had no intention of doing so. Not here. Not when so much was at stake.

He was pulled along into a bathroom, where he was unceremoniously stripped and dunked in a bathtub, scrubbed thoroughly with a thick pink bar of floral-scented soap. It felt nice to be washed, and he felt himself zoning out despite his resolve, mind wandering to the dreams Miss Lily had filled his head with. Dreams of the life he could live with a handsome and permissive vampire, of nights in an elegant mansion with a mysterious, dark master. The best case scenario.

Miss Florence sitting him down in front of a mirror and producing a pair of long scissors was what snapped him out of it. His golden hair, the feature he was so vain about -- and she was going to -- He heard himself involuntarily make a sound of distress, mind clawing against the vampire's spell.

"Oh, hush now, child," she said, as if she were talking to a fussy little boy getting his first haircut. "I have more experience cutting hair than any human barber."

While that was likely true, that didn't stop Fitz's chest from tightening as she chopped his hair far shorter than he liked to keep it. Vampires didn't want to have to deal with hair maintenance, he supposed, another unwelcome reminder of how little freedom he would have.

It was only hair. There were more important things to be concerned about. But his heart ached.

After rubbing his skin with sweet-smelling lotions, she brought him back into the main room and took out a small measuring tape. She began obsessively measuring every possible part of his body, from around his head to the size of his feet, in a way that seemed almost more like a ritual than an efficient way to measure him for a dress. Every time she brushed him, he felt the cottony prison for his mind growing thicker and more inescapable.

He was at least lucid enough to remember how to put on the undergarments required to wear fancy women's dress, with some assists from Miss Florence, particularly where it concerned the corset. Soon, the gown was being slipped over his head, and he found himself staring into his reflection in a large floor mirror as Miss Florence made adjustments to the dress here and there.

He looked stunning. And not just in the way he tried to convince himself every morning in the mirror, papering over his many flaws with cheap vanity. No, he actually looked fantastic in the deep red gown.

He only wished it were for a show and not for being sold to vampires.

And then the tailoring was done and he was whisked off to the vanity, Miss Florence applying makeup with a practiced hand. She was doing a much lighter look than the stage makeup he often applied himself, just enough to accentuate his skin.

"Now then, child, focus on me," said Miss Florence, dangling a ruby pendant in front of his face. It reminded him of the fatal pendant Miss Lily had used on him in his ill-fated five dollar bet. "You will remain calm during the auction."

Fitz felt something in him tug hard against that idea. How could he possibly remain calm when...

Miss Florence put a firm hand on top of his head, slowly swinging the pendant in front of his eyes. "You will remain calm during the auction. Repeat."

"I will remain calm during the auction, sir," his own voice droned.

"You exist to be a vampire's thrall. Repeat."

No, no, he was so much more than... "I exist to be a vampire's thrall, sir."

"You will know true obedience."

"I will know true obedience, sir." He could practically hear the echo of Miss Lily's voice convincing him how rewarding and pleasurable obedience would be. It had never been his strong suit. But the trance locking his mind said otherwise.

"Now, here is your final gift," said Miss Florence, taking his wrists with gentle hands, and snapping golden handcuffs around them. "You'll feel so much better once you've been sold off to a proper master, child. I can tell."

The amount of mesmeric power he was under made his twinge of despair seem distant, a storm cloud far away on the horizon. "Yes, sir."

Previous Masterlist Next

Next week is Christmas, so I plan to post a few Christmas specials (including at least one for Rare Bookseller) instead of a new part of the main story! The main story will resume in the new year, but until then, I have various AUs, asks, and a brand new series I hope to post.

Thanks for all your support for this silly little vampire story! I'm truly grateful for the reception I've had.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining-blog @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @gobbo-king

[wontwowon]

WHAT - 13 : What do I do?

wc. (769)

Waking up to a bunch of notifications can be either a blessing or a curse. When I saw all the notifications I thought maybe my post went viral.

The group chat was full of notifications, maybe they were congratulating me?? Or maybe Belle and Ricky were arguing about something stupid.

Niki also texted me. Maybe he wanted more robux, or was asking for a shoutout since I told people to unfollow him as a joke. 

I went on twitter- my biggest mistake.

My dm’s were full of death threats. 

Full.

Even as I refreshed the page, more and more kept coming.

Yujin’s post

Was it some sick kind of joke? She was playing the victim??

I couldn't get too much into it. I had a test I had to go to. I didn't even want to think about everyone. Do I reply? Do I skip?

“Yn!! Time for school, your math test is today!” 

That's right, I have to get good grades for her, my mom. I push myself up.

I don't want to go, but I will.

Yunjin didn’t bother to walk with me. I see her walking, but the dirty glare she gives me tells me already not to talk to her.

I don't blame her…

As I walk into the building I can feel everyone's eyes on me. Not only strangers, but also the people I call friends.

Yunjin and Karina glare at me. Taesan looks at me without any emotion- somehow scarier than the girls. Sohee looks betrayed- hurt- confused. And Hanbin, he looks… sorry?

I think what hurts the most is Sunghoon, he’s with Yujin.

She cries in his arms, and he consoles her. 

I want to be her. I want to cry in his arms. Why, why am I suffering. 

I try not to think about it as I head to math. I see Heeseung. 

Do I sit next to him?? Will he glare at me too?

I just sit where I normally do, Heeseung moves.

Do they seriously believe the post? Do I really seem fake?

I can hear my classmates whisper, it doesn't sound good. I put my head down, desperately trying to focus on math. 

Luckily the math teacher comes, and silences everyone. He passed the math tests.

He stops at me, maybe it’s because I'm wearing a shitty outfit, or maybe because I have no makeup? 

“Kids these days..” he whispers at me, while shaking his head. So.. he’s seen it too.

Has everyone seen it? Does everyone hate me? 

I can't even see the paper, my eyes full with tears, blurring the questions. I can’t help but zone out. Am I really the bad guy?? 

What do I do?

Do I leave again? Run away again?

That's all I know.  

I always run, running is easy.

So I do.

I get up and leave, I can hear the teacher call my name out. I can see Heeseung staring at me, slightly concerned. 

I speed walk in the hall, I left my bag in the class but I don't care.

I hear people whisper about me, but I don't care.

I just want my mom. 

“Yn?”

I see Sunghoon. He called me. But next to him isn’t what I want to see. Yujin is still there. 

I stand in the middle of the hallway, I see my old friends, Sunghoon’s friends, and a bunch of random people. 

“Yn, you gonna finally own up?” Yujin asks with a small smirk on her face. That smirk. It makes me annoyed. 

Why should I let her win? But… would anyone believe me?

I look around again, but then I see Niki.

He gives me a look… almost telling me to do something. 

Yujin now stands in front of me. I guess she tries to intimidate me. 

I know what I'm about to do is wrong, but I don't care anymore. Even if I try, nothing will help me get everyone's trust back. It happened back at SM uni, it’ll happen again here.

So I do it, I defend myself for the first time. 

I can only imagine the look on Belle's face, she’ll buy me some food in congratulating me. Jaehyun will lecture me, but still be proud. Ricky, he’ll definitely hype me up.

I can already see Niki’s face, he’s smiling. My mom will be slightly proud, but definitely mad. But that's ok. 

I finally see Sunghoon’s face, he's shocked. 

But I don't care. I don’t care anymore.

That’s why I continuously punch Yujin until someone pulls me off. And the rest of the next couple of hours were a blur.

previous | master list | next

SIDE NOTE please lmk if there’s any warnings I missed out in my master list, i don’t want to miss any 😅 also for some reason I can’t reply to comments?? But thank you to everyone who comments, reblogs, likes or even just reads, I really appreciate it ☺️

[spadesolace]

psychic lover

pairing: psychic barista!reader x record shop owner! yeji

synopsis: the owner of the local cafe, psychic coffee, is known for her great coffee brewing skills but also her ability to see the future. some are wholesome, others are traumatic, but no matter how hard she tries, she can't see her own future. that is until she meets the owner of the record shop right next to her cafe.

The smell of coffee beans, jazz music playing, and the soft chatter of people filled the small yet busy cafe. One of the baristas, also the owner of the cafe, has a reputation that people praise and are wary of, somehow deemed as a psychic with her capabilities to predict the future for each customer she serves. Each time a customer comes back, they either praise YN, or ask for advice whenever her predictions were right. People tried to make it a business, a separate charge for the readings and the coffee that she serves. Some regulars are living life peacefully because of her predictions, with new customers arriving everyday, each one curious about what the barista has to say.

“How do you predict it? Like do you see it or does it show in the coffee you’re brewing?” Yuna, one of the regulars, has always been intrigued by the barista’s psychic abilities. YN smiled at Yuna’s question upon serving her coffee.

She had predicted long ago that the girl would become a well-known model but also gave her warnings about the hate it comes with. Yuna didn’t believe it at first but a month after giving her best, she got her big break when a famous makeup line reached out to her management. Since then, Yuna had become a regular and YN’s close friend.

“I wish I could just do latte art with it but no. Somehow when someone tells me their name whether it's fake or real, I just get a vision of it.” Yuna wasn’t satisfied with the barista’s answer but it was better than nothing at all. Swirling the straw of her lemonade as YN wrote the vision for who knows when about the girl getting another big break, probably New York fashion week.

“What’s the most wholesome vision you’ve seen?” YN looked at Ryujin who was one of the very first customers of the cafe, a veterinarian right next to the cafe.

“It’s actually yours, Ryujin. Nothing could ever top that.” She remembers Ryujin’s future clearly and it was one of the most wholesome visions she’s seen. It was better than she expected.

The veterinarian would meet the love of her life, and the girl had the cutest eye smile, something that would make Ryujin fall easily. The story of how they met was as wholesome as how it's going, Lia (who YN found out her name when Ryujin visited the cafe after meeting the girl) at the vet, a simple checkup for her dog. It has been two years and the couple are going strong, YN has met Lia on occasion, and also saw a vision similar to Ryujin’s.

“Well, you did say that I’ll meet a girl who has the most beautiful eye smile. Even confirming with you if it was Lia.” YN could only smile at the pair, knowing that their future can have a few bumps here and there but the end would be worth it. Lowkey pointing at Ryujin’s finger as the prediction, she knew that already, the rings were in her office.

She wonders how Chaeryeong is doing, her best friend, she had it quite rough in the beginning, work not cutting out, or how her company mistreated her. There wasn’t much of an update regarding the idol. She wonders if the girl took her advice and left.

“Have you seen your future?” First time meeting YN, Lia had been skeptical but seeing that her vision was completely inline with Ryujin’s, she no longer doubted the psychic barista. YN could only shake her head, she wanted to know but even with multiple tries of saying her name and brewing her coffee, even looking in the mirror as she does it, nothing. It was the curse that came with the blessing.

“I’ve seen like a few moments of where I was in their future but not like significantly.” The trio nodded, neither was satisfied but that was YN, she wouldn’t speak much on the matter, only focusing on the present. As infuriating as it is, she did want to see her future, the fear of uncertainty such as what would happen to her cafe, her life in general, was using her psychic abilities as a bonus for the cafe worth it?

Her thoughts were interrupted upon hearing the bell, indicating a customer had arrived, or maybe someone left. Looking at the girl who was making her way to the counter, she has never seen someone so ethereal in her life. The way she carries herself, wearing jean shorts, a white fitted tank top, and an oversized flannel… so simple yet how does she make it so elegant. Her eyes, it's like she got hit by cupid's arrow with how piercing her gaze is, just looking at the menu and she’s this smitten already. The trio watched the barista lose her cool, it was the first time to happen, what happened to the composed barista?

“Hi… ready to order?” The girl nodded, her shy smile, small yet cute. YN wonders what she sees in her future, who’s that lucky person that will have her heart.

“An iced americano and a chocolate croissant.” Even her order is simple yet elegant, YN was clearly losing it. Writing her order on the cup, now the moment of truth.

“Name?”

“Yeji.”

YN’s vision darkened for a bit, slowly clearing up. Looking around, she was in a record shop, she saw Yeji by the counter, head bopping to whatever song was playing. The iced americano on top of the counter half empty. YN walked a bit closer, seeing that there was a note, Yeji blushing upon inspecting the cup again.

Her vision darkened again, opening her eyes, this time she was standing inside a house. A set of equipment for coffee, a turntable in the living room, framed pictures by the hallways, two dogs… a picture of Yeji with Lia, Ryujin, Chaeryeong, and Yuna. Her friends and Yeji… no, it can’t be.

“Jagi! I’m home!” YN stopped in her spot, standing in front of her, a smile and looking directly at her. Somehow she was taller, a big bright smile plastered on her face.

“Past me, welcome to your future.” Running past her was Yeji hugging future YN tightly, after years of waiting. Finally, she saw her future and it was with the owner of the record shop from across the street. She looked around the place, future YN looking at her with curious eyes. The place was filled entirely with their interests, from music to coffee, and in a drawer hidden in the office was an engagement ring. YN looked back at her future self, nodding in confirmation that this was indeed her future, all she had to do was make the right moves.

YN opened her eyes again, the trio looking expectantly, hoping for something. All the barista could do was nod in confirmation as she wrote Yeji’s name on the clear plastic cup.

“Would you like me to write what I saw?”

“Oh… yeah.” YN wrote on the cup, the same note she saw in her vision.

Yeji, that’s a cute name. How about we go get dinner so I can tell you all about your psychic lover? xxxx-xxxx-xxx

Yeji had herself a psychic lover.

[adokyoguen]

note: i definitely don't know if I write english correctly so forgive me if I make any mistakes. I'm not fluent in english so correction will be welcome!

˖ ࣪ ꒷ meeting in ten minutes ៹ satoru gojo x reader

You were sitting on the couch, playing on your cell phone while watching some boring series that you put on TV just so you wouldn't feel lonely in your apartment. Suddenly, an ecological knock, making your attention shift from your cell phone to the door. You stand up, thinking about who could be behind the door, a delivery man? Any blessed friend who decided to order you something to eat? No... you didn't talk to anyone today out of pure laziness on your part. When you open the door, you come across Satoru Gojo, a long-time friend of yours, you are always going out together, but you never admitted that it was a date. You kissed a few times when you were under the influence of alcohol, but neither of you had the courage to talk about it the next day.

"Gojo? You didn't even text me that you were coming." You say, noticing his outfit, he looked so... chic? You've never seen him dressed up to the point where he left the house with wet hair.

"I came to surprise you! A fancy restaurant awaits us. You have ten minutes to look stunning for me" Gojo explains, entering his house and throwing himself on the couch. You frown at Gojo's hasty invitation.

"Are you kidding me? Ten minutes? What kind of invitation is that? Do you really think you're going to rush to get me ready in ten minutes for you? You idiot!" You say as you lock the door to your house and stand in front of Gojo, who was sitting on the couch, watching you.

"I'm sorry for underestimating the preparation time of the most amazing person I know. Now, go get ready, princess. I want everyone to know that you're by my side tonight."

You wanted to pull Gojo's hair and curse him for being an idiot, did he really think it was possible for you to get ready in ten minutes? Like... you had to choose what hairstyle to wear, your makeup, your shoes and most importantly, your clothes.

"I'm serious, Gojo. I don't even have clothes ready for this. Most of them are being washed! If you want to go out with me so much, at least let me know in advance next time." You explain, crossing your arms, irritated.

Gojo sighs deeply, getting up from the couch and walking past you to head towards his room.

"Hey! Where are you going?" You go after the man when you see Gojo invade your room and start rummaging through your closet.

"Don't worry, princess, I'll find something amazing for you to wear. I have a knack for picking out clothes, you know... Trust me." Okay, you will definitely kill Satoru Gojo at one point or another.

"Since when did I give you permission to go through my closet?" You ask, crossing your arms, stepping in front of him.

"I am here trying to help you and you are hindering me... why am I instead of you hurting my feelings, won't you prepare yourself?" Gojo jokes, pulling you away from the closet, leaving you to look for some clothes.

"Do you think I can get ready in ten minutes? Do you have any idea of time, Satoru Gojo?" You ask irritably as you look for your makeup bag.

"Actually, it's now seven minutes." Gojo's laugh phrase comes out as he says this, you roll your eyes, putting on makeup. "Here, I found something good." He says playing, throwing a black dress on your bed so you could see.

"That dress is short Gojo." You comment as you do a quick liner on your eye.

“So I nailed it.” He says, his arrogant smile forming on his face. "Well, shoes you can just wear this heel here." Gojo throws a pair of black shoes. It was in the back of your closet precisely because you hated using it, plus you felt like it could fall at any moment, your foot starts to do so. "Not these." You say, finishing the basic makeup you did just to hide your dark circles and lift your eyes.

"My princess, we don't have much time now, you will have to go with them." Gojo explains as he throws the dress at you, earning a disapproving look in return.

"I hate it when you do that." You say irritably, going into the bathroom to get dressed as quickly as you can and putting on your heels with some difficulty.

When you leave the bathroom, you find Gojo messing around with one of your corsets, which was in your closet drawer. "How does it work?" Gojo asks, turning the corset over in his hand, to understand what it was.

"It's to show your waist." You explain as you comb your hair, trying to make it look neat. As you apply some cream just to make it easier to comb, you feel Gojo's hand around your waist.

"May I?" He asks, smiling.

"On you? I think so, if you want." You ask as you go back to combing your hair, earning a laugh from the boy.

"No fuck, put it on you." He says, hugging your waist from behind, kissing your neck.

"You can try." You hoped he wouldn't understand how it works and would give up right away, since you don't even know how to put it. Gojo wrapped the corset around your waist, fiddling with the ribbons to try and adjust it to your body, you couldn't understand how he managed to learn so quickly.

"And now?" He asks as he puts the loose ribbons back into place.

"You pull both ribbons." You explain as you apply perfume to your body. Gojo smiles, pulling both sides of the ribbon, causing his waist to tighten and a slightly uncomfortable pain to appear in his body. You didn't want to ruin the moment, Gojo seemed so happy to make the corset work and his waist appear like magic, that you ignored the shortness of breath and pain to make him happy.

"You look so beautiful..." Gojo murmurs, running his hand around your waist, which was covered by the corset.

You should definitely use this more often.

[earthtoharlow]

No Enhancers

“Stop staring at me, you’re making me nervous” You were standing in front of the floor length mirror in Jack’s walk-in closet doing your makeup. The lighting in his closet always seemed better than yours. You were getting ready for date night. You had been feeling self conscious all day. Feeling disgusted with everything you tried on, you changed your outfit 5 times but he didn’t need to know that.

Jack was sitting watching from the loveseat with his hands behind his head.

“I just find it so interesting how much you do to get ready.” He said before walking over and wrapping his arms around you, bending to place his chin on your shoulder. “Hm, even with 6 inch heels, you still aren’t half my height.”

“Not everyone can be as tall as you, jolly green giant.”

Jack couldn’t help but laugh at that. He kissed your favorite spot on your neck, before leaving the room to finish getting ready.

You turned back towards the mirror taking another look at yourself in the mirror. You hated the way you looked. Friends always told you how blessed you were to have curves but looking at your hips in the mirror they seemed more like a curse than a blessing.

Jack always talked about how much he loved your body, you could never understand why. To you it was nothing special. Your stomach wasn’t flat, and your hips were too wide for your liking. Sometimes you wondered if you should get surgery just to fix the imperfections you hated about yourself.

You could feel yourself start to tear up as you continued to pull at your skin. You almost felt embarrassed for allowing those thoughts to invade your space. Every passing thought you sunk deeper and deeper into a shame spiral.

“Hey, are you almost ready—“ Jack said walking into the room but stopping when he saw you crying. You tried to wipe away the tears before he could come any further, but it was too late.

Spinning you around so he could look at you, “babygirl, what’s wrong?” All you could do was put your head down and shake your head. The tears wouldn’t stop flowing.

“I’m fine, I promise.” You said as you tried to move away but Jack’s grip on your waist tightened.

“Nah, we ain’t doing this. What’s wrong?”

Your hands flew up to cover your face, no longer caring about messing up your makeup. “I hate the way my body looks, I look disgusting. How could you love me looking the way I do?” Your words started to slur as a sob started to form in your throat. You were breathing heavily trying to avoid crying.

Jack was almost speechless at your admission. He said nothing for a while as he motioned for you to wrap your arms around his neck so he could carry you. He carried you like you weighed nothing to the loveseat, and held you as you cried in his arms. You began to settle down as Jack occasionally kissed the top of your head.

You guys sat in silence before Jack tapped you on the hip and motioned you to stand up. He still said nothing as he pulled you back towards the mirror. You could hardly look at yourself. You looked even worse now, your eyes were puffy and red from all the crying.

Jack wrapped his arms around you, bending down to place his chin on your shoulder. The two of you were basically having a staring contest before you broke eye contact first. You couldn’t look at yourself any longer.

Jack lifted his hand to your chin to lift your head up, you closed your eyes. “Open your eyes.”

You counted to ten before looking in the mirror once more. “Tell me what you see when you look at yourself. Tell me about that woman, right there.”

You lifted your chin a bit more, trying to ignore the smeared makeup. “She’s smart, fun, and a good person.” It was hard to think of things off the top of your head. “She’s incredibly charming, and extremely funny….funnier than her man.” Jack pinched your hips at that.

Jack nodded in agreement, but that wasn’t what he was looking for. “That’s all you see? I loved hearing about what you see on the inside, but what about everything on the outside?”

“My hips look huge. They ARE huge.” That’s all that your mind could process at the moment.

“Do I need to go grab your glasses?” You watched as he slowly ran his hands up your arms and rested them on your shoulders. “Wanna know what I see?”

All you could do was sigh. “Sure, whatever. I can take it.”

“I know you can take it, you can have it as much as you want.” He leaned so he could speak directly in your ear. He didn’t want his words to get lost in the space between you. Jack wanted no; he needed his words to go directly to your brain for immediate effect.

Locking eyes with you in the mirror he spoke again. “I love those big beautiful brown eyes of yours. I love watching the way they light up when you’re talking about the things you love and are interested in, I like to think that they light up the same when you speak about me.”

“They don’t.”

“Yeah okay.” Jack said before biting down teasingly on your ear. You let out a loud laugh reaching up and grabbing his face. You guys quieted down as he continued.

“I LOVE your hips.” He said as his hands moved towards them, giving them a squeeze. “I’m not a religious man, but God took his time with you. These hips were crafted by him.”

His hands then moved up your back and to the zipper of your dress. You watched as he slowly unzipped the dress, pulling it down your shoulders. He then gave each shoulder a kiss before letting the dress fall completely. In a swift movement, he unhooked your bra. Shivers went through you as he cupped your breast with both hands. Flicking your nipples. “These were the most perfect things ever created.”

You scratched your nose up at that, always thinking they were saggy. Most days you were convinced one was bigger than the other.

“You don’t think they could use a lift?” You questioned.

“No. You’re beautiful. You don’t need any enhancers.”

The way he was looking at you with so much adoration was making you emotional.

“It’s not a body’s job to be perfect. It’s to keep you alive. I love your body for keeping my favorite person alive and healthy.”

You were full blown crying again. You turned in his arms to face him and gave him a kiss. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” You continued to say against his lips.

“I love you more.” Jack said, pulling away, pressing his nose against yours. “I love your body, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Please don’t hide it from me.”

All you could do was nod and press your lips to his again. After tonight you definitely were seeing your body with fresh eyes.

—————————————————————————-

AN: This has been in my drafts for so long that I almost forgot about it. As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughtssss 🥹💜 hope you all love this one

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[atths--twice]

Think Again

While on a case, Mulder makes an after work suggestion to Scully.

July, 2017

Las Vegas in the summer was no joke.

The heat made it feel like you could actually spontaneously combust, as Scully had sarcastically said to Mulder one day.

She pulled her hair up and held it on top of her head as she walked up the stairs to her motel room door, the heat feeling as though it could nearly split the backs of her legs open.

“God,” she said, sliding the card key in the slot and pushing the door open. The room was only slightly cooler than the temperature outside and the air felt thick.

Closing and locking the door, she lifted the door to the air conditioner controls and turned it to the coldest setting. It shuddered on and began to blow out cold air, much to her relief.

She took off her blazer, tossing it on the bed. Unbuttoning her shirt, that too joined the bed. Standing in front of the air conditioner in her bra and skirt, she let out a deep breath as the cool air hit her sweaty skin. Holding her hair up again, she turned around and moaned as she began to cool down.

“God, it is so hot,” she murmured, moving her neck from side to side. “I hate it.”

When she felt somewhat cooler, she walked away from the air conditioner, stripping off the rest of her clothes on the way to the bathroom and leaving them where they landed.

Taking a tepid shower, she washed her hair and body twice, getting rid of the sweat from the day. Drying off, she put on her robe and walked into the bedroom.

“Oooohhhh,” she exhaled with a smile, the room now cool and refreshing.

She checked her phone, but saw no calls or messages from Mulder. He had gone to speak to witnesses and family members of their victim, while she had been at the coroner’s office. Not having heard from him, she had left the office and driven to the motel.

Sitting in traffic on the Vegas strip, had left her irritable. Needing to park at the far end of the motel’s lot and thus walking to the room through the heat, had only added to her irritability.

Now, clean and cooler, she felt better and wondered what he was up to and when he would be back.

Her stomach growled and she realized she had not eaten since breakfast and it was now going on six. Deciding to get dressed and then call Mulder to see where he was and what he wanted to do for dinner, she took out her clothes and laid them on the bed, exchanging them for her blazer and dirty shirt.

Not wanting to stand under a hot hair dryer, she brushed her hair a few minutes later and left it to air dry. Putting on minimal makeup, she was replacing the cap on her mascara when she heard a knock on the door. Smiling, she put the mascara down and walked to the door.

Checking to be sure it was him, she then opened the door and took in his flushed face.

“It is so fucking hot,” he said, stepping inside and moaning as he took off his jacket. “Oh… it is so much better in here.”

“Hello,” she said, closing and locking the door.

“Hi,” he said, untying his tie and unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt. “The fact that I got this sweaty just walking from the car is insane. How is it so hot here?”

“It’s a desert. Did you not learn about geographical locations when you were in school?”

“Shut up,” he said, walking toward the air conditioner and sighing as the air hit him.

“Did you leave the air on in your room?” she asked and he groaned.

“I… think so?”

“Give me your key. I’ll go turn it on for you.”

“May the Lord bless you,” he said, handing her his key and unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way, fanning it open and closed.

“You don’t believe in the Lord,” she said, snorting out a laugh.

“I can respect the blessing,” he said, making the sign of the cross, completely out of order.

“Shut up,” she parroted back at him, rolling her eyes as she unlocked and opened the door.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, closing his eyes with a low hum as he turned around.

She shook her head as she stepped out and closed the door, cursing the heat that hit her in full force.

“Jesus Christ,” she grumbled, walking to his room next door.

Opening the door, she turned her head as the warm, stuffy air washed over her. Quickly turning his air conditioner to the lowest temperature and the highest fan setting, she closed the door and walked back to her room.

Two sharp raps and the door opened a crack.

“Yeeeeessssss,” Mulder said in a deep Lurch voice.

“Open the door.”

“Password?”

“Get the fuck outta the way,” she said, laughing as she pushed against the door.

“Correct,” he said, opening it wider.

“Oh, it’s so much better in here,” she said, agreeing with his previous statement as she closed the door, sighing happily and handing him his key. “I don’t know how people are walking around the strip in this heat. I thought I might spontaneously combust earlier when I was walking up the stairs.”

“Scully,” he said, looking at her with a pleased smile. His dress shirt was now off and he was wearing only his undershirt and pants.

“Does that make you happy? That I was on the verge of combustion?”

“No, not that. Just that you believe it could happen… that’s enough for me.”

“You’re weird.”

“Eh, you already knew that.” He shrugged and she smiled with a nod.

Yes, she did know that.

“Anything to report about the day?”

“I’m hungry. Other than that… not much.”

“Same,” he said with a nod. “To both.”

“We should get dinner.”

“I was thinking the same on my way back here. And then after, maybe we could see a show.”

“A show?” she asked, furrowing her brow.

“Yeah. I stopped to get gas and I saw this inside the station. I thought maybe you’d like to go?” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a pamphlet, and handed it to her with a grin.

She took it and then looked up at him.

“The Thunder From Down Under?”

“Crickey,” he said, in an Australian accent.

“You…” she said, looking down at the pamphlet again and taking in the chiseled and oiled chests of the half naked men. “You want to go to this show?”

“If you do? Sure.”

“Have I…” She opened the pamphlet and looked at more pictures, her eyes widening as she shook her head slightly. “… ever expressed an interest in this type of show?”

“Not that I can recollect, but you know what they say: What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.” He grinned at her and she bit back a smile. She closed the pamphlet and then hit it into his chest.

“No, we’re not doing that,” she said. “Or at least, I’m not. If that’s something you want to do…”

“Oh, this was a sacrifice I was willing to make for you,” he said, looking down at the pamphlet. “I mean… I can’t deny they are good looking men, but not exactly my scene.”

“Your sacrifice is noted,” she said.

“The only problem now… what am I supposed to do with the large amount of ones I stopped and got at the bank?” he said quietly, running a finger over his lips as he stared at the pamphlet.

She kept her eyes on him, waiting for him to raise his eyes to hers. Holding his gaze until he was no longer able to keep the smile from his face, she rolled her eyes and smiled.

“So weird,” she whispered as he chuckled softly, crumbling the pamphlet in his hands and then tossing it into the trash. He winked and she shook her head. “Go shower and we can get something to eat.”

“Yeah,” he said, picking up his jacket, shirt, and tie. “My room is probably cooled off by now. Or at least somewhat cooler.”

“Probably,” she said, crossing her arms.

“You sure the answer is no?” he asked, glancing at the crumbled pamphlet in the trash can.

“Unless you really wanna go,” she said, raising her eyebrows as she stared at him.

“Hmm… I’m good.”

“Good. Go shower. I’m still hungry.”

He grinned as he opened the door, nodded at her as he stepped through it, and then groaned as the heat hit him and he closed the door. She shook her head as she smirked and let out a deep breath.

Picking up her clothes that still lay on the floor, she placed them in a small pile on the bottom of her closet. Straightening up the small table with her files and case notes, she laughed softly, thinking about the half dressed men on the pamphlet.

“Crikey,” she said, shaking her head and laughing again, imagining Mulder walking into that show, his pockets full of dollar bills, the music pulsing around them.

Maybe she should give that pamphlet another look…