#I really should have used a paper towel | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gaythreadrunner · 6 months

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so you're taking care of your computer's software health. NICE! but what about its physical health?

because yes, computers do need the occasional real-world checkup to make sure that they're running well. but what exactly does that entail? i see many posts about maintaining software health: limit your browser tabs, ensure your antiviruses are working properly, so on and so forth, but checking the physical components is something i sparsely see discussed here.

so what's the deal with physical maintenance? well, have you ever had your computer hack and wheeze trying to keep up even if your OS and all your drivers are up to date and functioning? if you've never opened up your computer before, you may be shocked to find just how FILTHY it can get in there:

take a closer look at that snout dust! PTOOEY .. BLECKH

computers are much more likely to accumulate internal dust if they're sitting on the floor, and especially if they're near any vents and/or if you have pets.

ok, you've figured out how to open your device and now you're staring at the second coming of the dust bowl in your gaming rig. what now? let's explore some basic cleaning tips, deep cleaning pointers for your CPU/GPU, and tips to help keep maintain your computer's physical health in the future.

first of all, turn off your computer and unplug it (for my computer, i turn it off, turn off the PSU switch, unplug it, and then press the power button for about 30 seconds to drain the capacitors and minimize static risk)

generally, you're gonna want to have THESE items:

some sort of face mask (dust masks are best, but anything that'll help keep the harmful dust out of your lungs will generally work)

a can of compressed air (or an electric duster if you're ~fancy~. they look and function like turbo blowdryers)

a vacuum will be useful if there's a LOT of dust, best to use in combination with an anti-static cleaning kit

if you ARE gonna use a vacuum, spray every attachment you use with an anti-static spray. disturbing large amounts of dust creates a lot of static, and electronics are very sensitive to that.

it's never a bad idea to grab an grounding wristband as well, but as long as you wear loose clothes and always keep some part of your skin in contact with the case, you should be ok. (i don't know how much this applies to laptops and smaller devices, since the cases for those are typically plastic)

if there's staining (like from smoke) or there's more gunk caked on than you thought, you can gently clean electronic components with a brush/paper towel/microfiber and medical-grade isopropyl alcohol ONLY. do not use any other cleaning alcohols for this task.

before you do anything, TAKE THAT FUCKER OUTSIDE! always clean a dusty device where the wind can carry that shit away, because oh my GOD will it fuck up your lungs like crazy. (that, and compressed air cans have fluorocarbons in them, which isn't great to breathe in either)

most of the time, you'll probably be fine just using an air duster. for compressed air cans, spray the dirty surfaces in short bursts. an electric duster can be constantly blown. when dusting fans, make sure that you're holding the blades still as to not accidentally make them spin too fast (ESPECIALLY with an electric duster!), since that can damage the mechanism that makes them spin.

however, if there's a lot of dust, it may be better to give it a vacuuming first. anything from a handheld to a shop vac will work, and attachments with brushes on the end will help tons with loosening up even more dust. and of course ALWAYS make sure that you're spraying any attachments with anti-static spray, and keep a hand on the case of the computer to electrically ground yourself since the hose will be in contact with the internals.

if there's any left over, give it a blast with the duster.

in some rare cases, there may be some extra gunk caked onto the internals, and you may have to really get your hands in there or take components out individually. if you don't have an anti static wristband (the ones with an alligator clip) do your best to ALWAYS keep your skin in contact with the case as you're finagling around in there.

it's probably a good idea to have disposable gloves on for this. grab your isopropyl and towel of choice (microfiber is ideal, but dirtier PCs may need disposable paper/shop towels), soak it a little bit, and gently scrub off the gunk n' grime as needed.

with heat sinks specifically, since they're just big blocks of metal, they're the one part of a component that can be cleaned under water. if a dusting doesn't suffice, gently scrub it with a brush under warm, soapy water, rinse thoroughly, and let it dry on a towel for a few hours before reassembling it into the electronic components.

if there's still little bits stuck in the radiator fins, stick an isopropyl-soaked q-tip in there to push it out.

the dust settles, everything's put back together, and it's all clean in there again. YAY!!!!! but what if you're still experiencing temperature problems? well, it typically comes down to either the CPU or GPU:

IF ITS THE CPU: if you took off the cooler to clean it, then i hope you remembered to dab some fresh thermal paste on there. you should be replacing thermal paste few years, otherwise it dries out and loses its effectiveness.

the type you use makes a huge difference too; i like to use arctic's mx-4, it has excellent thermal conductivity while still being an electrical insulator, so spillover isn't a problem. if you go for a liquid metal compound, please do your research first, since some of them can run the risk of corroding the cooler pipes and/or the CPU's outer casing.

to replace thermal paste, make sure that the crusty old paste is sufficiently scrubbed off the contact points of both the CPU and cooler. again, use isopropyl for this. once it's all cleaned off, put about a pea-sized amount of paste on the CPU and carefully lower the cooler onto the mounting bracket before fastening it in place. (also it really doesn't matter how you put the paste on, as long as it ends up covering most of the contact area)

also if you're still using the cooler your CPU came with, you should probably get a better cooler. especially if you're doing gaming or using graphically/mathematically intensive software. sorry. the stock coolers that most CPUs come with are mid as hell. you can get a nice ARGB one for less than 20 USD i promise its worth it

IF ITS THE GPU: like CPUs, your graphics card also needs to have its thermal paste cleaned out and replaced every so often. but they also utilize a second thermal material called thermal pads. these are usually made of either silica gel or a very thick clay-like grease, and come in different thicknesses. my favoured pads are owltree's 12.8w grease pads, the assorted pack comes with enough for about 4-5 GPUs.

taking apart a GPU seems scary, and understandably so; they're incredibly expensive and hard-working pieces of technology! but i've done it twice now, and it's actually surprisingly simple (as long as you keep track of all the damn screws... im lucky there's a magnetized screw mat in the house i can use)

i recommend watching a deep clean/teardown video of the GPU model you have before digging into it yourself. generally, they separate into 4 distinct portions: the outer shell, the heatsink, the board, and the backplate.

the shell contains the fans and any possible RGB elements. it'll have 1-2 controllers plugged into the board, one for the fans and one for the lighting elements if there are any. once the case is unscrewed, unplug these connectors with a firm squeeze and tug.

these tend to be surprisingly dusty on the inside, so it's probably a good idea to blast it with a duster. again, make sure to hold the fans so they don't overspin. you can also remove the fans from the shell and clean them individually if you'd like.

the heatsink is BIG and heavy, and you can do all the same stuff here that you would with a CPU cooler heatsink. it may take a bit of effort to tug off if the thermal materials are really making it stick to the board. once it's off, scrub the old thermal paste, blast it with a duster, and wash under soapy water if needed before rinsing thoroughly and leaving it to dry for a while.

the backplate is just a flat piece of metal that protects the back side of the board. usually all this will need is a simple wipedown.

the board is where all the magic happens, and will usually have a layout that's something like this:

clean up as needed; gently scrub off old thermal paste, scrape off the old thermal pads (but take close note of how thick they are so you can replace them with the correct pads), and brush/wipe down the dust and grease on each side as needed. take care to avoid touching the PCIe connector too much (the bar of golden pins that juts out from the bottom)

thermal padding varies from card to card (i recommend checking thermal pad placements for your gpu in water cooling guides, even if you're not doing water cooling) but it's typically gonna be on THESE spots:

the VRAM chips surrounding the die (main chip) along with the small black chips next to the capacitors will require thermal pads the most. cut each one to size, carefully peel off the plastic films, and press each piece onto the chips.

now you can grab your thermal paste and put some on that big shiny die. now take your freshly pasted/padded board and CAREFULLY lower it back onto the heatsink. i highly suggest having a good source of lightning for this, since shifting around the pieces too much trying to get them to align properly can displace the thermal pads and mess with how the paste spreads.

screw the heatsink tight to the board, and double check to make sure that the pads and paste are snug against the heat sink. now put the backplate and shell back on and BAM YOU'RE DONE! with the paste and pads i used, i was able to bring down the temperature of my cards by a good 10-15 °C.

ok you've done all this deep cleaning shit and your computer is happy and healthy. what can you do for your computer's health in the future?

DUST AT LEAST ONCE A YEAR. haul that thang outside and spray that shit out to stop it from building up for too long.

KEEP IT OFF THE FLOOR. if you can, of course, not everyone has the desk room for it. computers accumulate dust easier when they're close to the floor. if you do need to keep it on the floor, you might have to dust it every 6-8 months rather than once a year.

AND STOP PUTTING YOUR LAPTOPS ON SOFT SURFACES I SWEAR TO GOD

GET A FAN CONTROLLER. motherboards are DOGSHIT at maintaining fan speeds!!!! there are physical fan hubs that use controller software, but if you can't afford that, fancontrol by rem0o is a stellar software-only option.

IF YOU DON'T ALREADY HAVE CASE FANS, GET THEM. the number of fans depends on the motherboard form factor your case can accommodate (ATX cases typically have 6-8), but having that air circulation is very important to maintaining ideal temperatures. arctic makes fantastic budget-friendly fans.

IF YOU HAVE AN NVMe HARD DRIVE: please put an aluminum heat sink on that thang. they get toasty :(

OK THATS IT I THINK. if anyone else has tips they wanna add, go right on ahead. ok thank you bye your computer will love you

#sprite.exe

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bunny584 · 4 months

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OBSESSED: GETO

A/N: Suguru is a patient, kind, wonderful, completely out-of-his-mind-insane man. I just had to capture it on paper. (The Yuuta installment is up next, this one was just crawling out of me lol)

C/W: Voyeurism (the real Shibuya incident 🤭) Mature, 18+

Suguru should stop.

He really should fucking stop.

You two are friends. Innocent. Platonic. The very best of friends.

And yet, here he is. Watching a live feed of you walking through your apartment door.

Keys to the left.

Heels kicked off to the right. You’ll come back to those later.

He drapes the bath towel around his neck. Catching the last few almond water droplets from his thick, near waist length hair. He’ll be at your place later; he wouldn’t forgive himself if he was the reason you caught a cold.

And capital punishment for anyone who rouses a single strand of hair on your head.

6:38 PM. A little late today. But it’s a Wednesday and there’s a farmers market in the town square. You always stop for chocolate croissants too late on Wednesdays. The vendor leaves before you’re out of work.

There are four of them on low heat in his oven right now.

Because Suguru now knows the vendor on a first name basis. He’s paid him well over asking price to have 4 chocolate croissants (made 2 batches later than what he sells during the day) be delivered to his place every Wednesday.

Because you’re his friend.

His best friend. And he can’t stand the thought of you going a second without anything you want in this lifetime.

Oh fucking hell.

Your (his) favorite blazer is off. As is the demure mint silk button up that it was covering. Both now wistfully draped over the corner of the kitchen island. He finds the way you throw your things around haphazardly so adorable.

But that doesn’t matter right now.

Like clockwork, Suguru’s left hand drags down his sweatpants, just enough to let his overgrown, painfully hard cock free. It bounces well past his belly button, like a fresh wire spring.

And with cinematic timing, you lean over your kitchen island. In nothing but your lacy bra and snug little pencil shirt. Mindlessly catching up on your social media.

The way your plush, pouty rose lips hang slightly open. And your fucking perfect tits spill over the top of your slightly undersized bra. The lazy S curve from your petite shoulders…tapered down to your waist…back out to the swell of your hips.

“Fuck,” a king cobra hiss escapes his lips.

You’re dizzying. Utterly fucking intoxicating.

Suguru’s chest rises and falls. The pace of his hand around his cock crescendos. Almost angrily.

How could you do this to him?

You’re his best friend for fucks sake.

Precum slicks from his thick, blunt tip. Squelching around his knuckles.

Your back arches into a mini crescent moon. And Suguru might as well have swallowed a blow torch.

“Nnnhhgh fuck, g-god…so…” Sharp drags of air mix with his poorly choked down moans.

His hand grips harder. Hips now rutting up off his desk chair. Hungry. Needy. Imprecise pumps into the slick ring of his fingers. Chasing another high he so desperately wishes you could personally give.

Because the way he feels right now?

The sheer malevolence in his mind. The depravity. You trust him completely and he can’t trust himself with you at all.

Beautiful, enchanting girl.

You reduce him to a perverted, bird brained slave to his desires.

You make him want to violate you. To fuck a cock-shaped hole through the back of your skirt to your cervix.

He wants to pick you up and bounce you along all 10 inches of his length and watch himself bludgeon through to your stomach.

He wants to pin you down and use your pretty little throat as his personal cocksleeve. And watch you garble and cry and drool around his invading length while you struggle for air. And listen to the melodic sounds of you gasping and muffled around his dick when he makes you apologize.

Apologize for being so goddamn irresistible. For bringing this depraved shell of a human being out of him.

Electricity runs the length of his manhood. His breaths are jagged, tendrils of wavey hair matted to his forehead.

The sound of your ringtone slices through the static in his brain. Tethering him back out of his criminal spiral.

“H-hey, pretty.” Suguru forces his baritone to level out. Hand still stroking his length.

Your wispy, girly giggle almost finishes him instantly.

“You’ve gotta stop with the pet names, Suguru! The trail of women in your wake hate me enough as it is.”

“Ha-I c-couldn’t care less.” Talking is harder than breathing for him.

You lean up from the counter and start twirling your hair in a way that makes him want to carve out another galaxy for you. Just for you. Anything for you.

“Movie night? I’ve been wanting to—“

“Yes.” Suguru is almost embarrassed at how quickly he cut you off. Like a fucking dog.

You laugh again and stroll to your refrigerator. He knows you’re lamenting the missed croissants. And he knows you know there’s a 99.99% chance he’s already gotten them for you. Because he is silly putty for you. He crumbles to stardust in your hands.

Because he’s your best friend.

“I got them.” Suguru rasps out. Hands moving so fast up his shaft, precum surging out his tip. He’s so close. So fucking—

“God I love you.”

And he snaps. Hot, thick ropes of his cum splay everywhere. Suguru draws metallic from his bottom lip, clenching down so hard not to give himself away.

You said it so innocently. So platonically. And it shifted his entire world on its axis.

His best fucking friend.

“Love you too, I’ll be there at 8.”

PART. II

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obsidianbaby · 9 days

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FUCKING BROWNIES

synopsis - you've been good friends with the triplets for the past few years and are visiting them in LA. You and the guys decide you want to bake some brownies but you're missing some key ingredients, Matt and Nick go out to pick them up leaving you and Chris alone.

warnings & notes - dom! chris x reader, oral (fem receiving), choking and a lil bit rough, angst, slight degradation, overstimulation, praise (let me know if I've missed something)

a/n - this is my first time writing smut in fucking yearssssss so pls be kind<3 also tried my best not to use y/n cause i hate that shit okok enjoy mwah

- I also despise writing dialogue so bare with me

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"alright be back soon!!" Nick shouts as him and Matt walk down the stairs to the garage door.

Chris and I stand alone in the kitchen now, Chris hovering over the mixing bowl at the counter, his back to me, and me sitting at the table reading the back of the brownie mix box.

"Don't know why you guys decided to buy brownie mix that requires so many ingredients you don't have" I say putting the box down and sighing.

"Dude I think you can wait like 20 minutes for them to get back" Chris says laughing turning around to face me.

"Mmmm yeah but then we have to wait for them to bake so really it's going to be closer to an hour" I say back jokingly looking up at Chris who's now leaning with both hands across the table in front of me.

"Damn a whole hour, are you gonna parish before then?" He says sarcastically squishing my cheeks with his hand. I playfully swat his hand away and stick my tongue out at him.

"Yeah actually I might," I say while pushing my chair out getting ready to stand up, "I might just need a quick taste test..." I say as I stand up to begin my journey to the mixing bowl on the counter.

Just as I make my way around the table Chris moves to stand in front of me placing his hands on my shoulders to stop me in place.

"Uh uh uh no way I'm letting you stick your grimy little fingers in the brownie mix" he says shaking his head at me.

"Hmm seems like a challenge" I say daringly before darting around the other side of the table towards the mixing bowl.

"For fucks sake" he says sprinting after me. He pulls my wrist and yanks me towards him just as I stick my fingers into the bowl.

"Hahahaha too late bitch" I say pleased with the chocolate brownie mix spread all over my fingers. He watches me intently as I begin to lick the mix off of my fingers. I close my eyes with delight, "yummmm you should have some" I say as I pick up the bowl and shove it in his direction.

"Yeah okay" he says hesitantly as he dips a couple fingers into the bowl and licks some of the mix off while looking at me. "Mmmm" he walks over to grab some paper towel but I interrupt him.

"Wait what are you doing?"

"Wiping my hands off??" He looks at me puzzled.

"Noooo you can't waist that shit" I say as I grab his wrist and bring his fingers to my mouth. I begin to lick and suck on his fingers, swirling my tongue around them trying to savor every last drop of the brownie mix. Chris stares at me intensely, his pupils dilating with desire as he bites his bottom lip.

After I think I've gotten all the mix off I take out his fingers from my mouth slowly. I look down at the tent growing in his gray sweats in front of me.

"Shit... Sorry" I say smiling shyly as I slowly release my grip on his wrist, knowing that this is crossing the normal boundaries of our friendship.

He looks down at his growing hardness and back into my eyes, licking his lips. "No you're not"

"Yeah you're right I'm not" I say smirking at up at him. Fuck me it'd be a lie to say I didn't want him to take me right then and there having been attracted to him since we met.

"Hmmm" chris ponders for a second as he looks my body up and down. The wetness my legs starting to soak through my panties.

"What...?" I ask looking at him with a raised brow trying to hide my growing smirk.

"I don't think you got all the mix off so I think you'll have to try again" he says bringing his fingers back up towards my mouth, grazing his thumb over my lips for permission and I gladly part my lips open and he slips his two fingers back in my mouth.

I stare up at him as he slowly guides his fingers pumping them in and out of my mouth, my tongue swirling around them. He watches me licking his lips in satisfaction. I grab his hand and force his fingers as far as I can down my throat causing me to gag, saliva dripping down my chin.

Chris lets out a groan, "oh fuck" he says as I continue to guide his fingers down my throat, choking on his digits.

I then take them out of my mouth and inspect them "yep they look clean to me, here you are" I say smirking as I push his hand back towards him gently, enjoying the sexual frustration growing in Chris's pants, hoping he takes the bait of my seduction.

"I don't think im done though" he says stepping forward, closing the gap completely between us, his hard cock poking me through his pants. My thighs clentch at the heat growing between my legs.

"Oh?" I say sensually, tilting my head at him.

"Yeah see, you got a taste but I don't think I'm finished with mine yet" he says, firmly grabbing onto my jawline tilting my head to the side exposing my neck.

"But you haven't got anymore brownie mix to-" I begin but I gasp mid sentence as Chris's lips attach to my neck, kissing my sensitive skin. He picks me up by the waist and places me on the counter top, his legs spreading mine open for him to stand in-between.

With his hands firmly holding onto my waist he continues to kiss down my neck and across my collar bone before lifting his head up at me smiling cheekily. I grab his face with my two hands guiding his lips to mine needing to know what it feels like to kiss him.

We start moving our lips together at a lightning pace, his tongue grazing over mine asking to be let in and I immediately grant him access, our tongues fighting for dominance.

I stop the kiss by biting and sucking on his bottom lip which causes him to let out a husky moan. I smile with satisfaction at this, which causes Chris to shake his head as he places his hand around my neck squeezing firmly, causing me to let out a moan.

He then smiles with pride from my escaped moan and I roll my eyes at him. He uses his grip on my neck to push my head back a little forcefully against the cabinet and I moan again.

"Hmm didn't think you were the type to like it rough" he says smirking devilishly at me, his eyes almost black with desire.

The arousal dripping through my panties has me needing to clentch my thighs together but they're being held open by his waist. He instantly looks down at my legs tightening around his waist and he places another quick sloppy kiss to my lips before moving his hands onto my bare thighs, slowly guiding his hands further and further up and under my shorts until they sit resting at my pantie line, his fingers trailing teasingly under the hem. He looks up at me for permission and I nod instantly at him.

With this he slips one of his hands under my panties and runs a finger up and down my slick, swirling his fingers in my wetness, his other hand gripping tightly around my thigh and I gasp.

Staring hungrily into my eyes, he lifts his hand from my thigh to my neck and roughly choke slams my head against the cabinets as he plunges two fingers into my hole and begins to pump them. My body jolts from the sudden tightness in my core and a few moans escape my mouth, "Oh fuck chris"

"Fuck you're so wet already, sucking my fingers really got you off huh? Fucking slut" he spits as he curls his fingers up hitting my sweet spot with every pump, his other hand wrapped around my neck.

My legs start to shake and my breathing intensifies, the knot that's been building dramatically since I sucked on his fingers moments ago aching in my stomach begging to be released.

"Fuck chris I'm getting close i" at those words he retracts his fingers from my cunt and brings them to his mouth, his one hand still gripping my neck as he stares at me while slowly licking my arousal until his fingers are clean.

My walls ache from the emptiness craving the need to tighten around something. "Fuck chris please" I beg trying to grab his hand to guide it back to my slick where I need him but he swats my hand away.

"You taste so fucking good" he says with a devilish smile, pushing my head back against the cabinets.

"Fuck chris please continue I was so close" I whine through suppressed breathes, pulling a face at him and he just smiles at my neediness.

"I don't think this was enough to satisfy me though" he says as he waves his two fingers that he just licked clean in front of my face before releasing the hold on my neck and gripping my thighs with his hands. He aggressively digs his hands into my thighs and pulls me to the edge of the counter. He kneels down in front of me placing my legs over his shoulders and I bite my lip in anticipation.

He kisses the inside of my thighs teasingly, slowly moving his soft lips closer to my clothed heat. He places a gentle kiss over my clothed wetness before shifting my panties to the side exposing my cunt to the cool kitchen air causing me to gasp. He stares up at me as he licks a line from my hole up to my clit before pressing a soft kiss to it.

"Fuck chris please" I beg, bucking my hips up to try and create friction against his face but he holds my legs firmly in place.

"Please what? Use your words sweetheart"

"Fuck please Chris I need you I need your mouth on me"

"Good girl" he smirks as he places his lips around my clit and begins to suck. He snakes his hand around my leg and puts his fingers in me, curling them up into my spongy walls.

I instinctively buck my hips against his face starting to grind against his fingers inside me and he lets out a gutteral moan causing his mouth to vibrate around my throbbing clit sending waves of pleasure throughout my body.

He removes his fingers and replaces them with his tongue and starts to draw tight circles around my clit with his thumb and I moan, gripping his hair to help guide his tongue further inside me.

"Fuck you're so fucking good for me" he says against my slick before diving his tongue back inside.

The knot in my stomach snaps and my legs shake around his shoulders as he continues to tongue fuck me through my high. He retracts his tongue from my slick once my walls stop convulsing around his tongue and he wipes my waves of arousal off his face on his hoodie sleeve.

He helps me move my legs from his shoulders and he stands up bringing his lips back to mine once again so I can taste the mess I made all over his tongue.

Our lips moving against each other instinctively, tongues swirling around, teeth clashing. And he continues to rub my clit gently with his thumb, the overstimulation burning causing me to moan loudly in his mouth.

"Fuck chris too much" I say between moans as I try to continue to kiss him through the pressure that starts to rebuild in my stomach.

But the moment gets interrupted by the sound of the garage door shutting downstairs. We both look at each other eyes wide in shock.

"Fuck" we both say in unison as I stumble off of the counter and Chris tucks his rock hard dick up in the waistband of his sweats.

We both eradically pace around the kitchen trying to find something to do that looks normal as Matt and nicks voices get closer and closer by the second.

I quickly hop into the chair I was sitting in when they left fixing my underwear and shorts as best I can and Chris stands awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen trying to shake out his messed up hair as Nick and Matt turn the corner and continue their walk into the kitchen.

Matt places the grocery bags on the counter and him and Nick continue their conversation, oblivious to the sexual tension flooding the air.

Suddenly they stop and hesitate as they both shoot questioning glances between me and Chris.

"Everything okay in here?" Matt asks looking directly at me as he starts to unload the items from the grocery bag onto the counter.

"Yeah what's with the awkward silence, usually you two don't ever shut the fuck up." Nick adds as he picks up the brownie box to double check the instructions before heating up the oven.

Chris and I look at each other and smile in unison, our ridiculous laughs breaking the awkward tension.

"Yeah yeah we're good" Chris says patting Nick on the back.

I stand up to help Matt with the missing brownie ingredients, "yeah it's all good guys let's make some fucking brownies" I say picking up the eggs.

MATT'S POV

Nick and I park in the garage and as I'm grabbing the bags from the back seat I can hear muffled moans coming from inside. I snap my attention to Nick standing in front of the car to see if he heard what I did but he's still yapping about the sweet cashier from cvs who checked us out.

Nick opens the door and I make a note to close it as hard as I can so they know we've made it back home, hopefully interrupting whatever it is they've gotten up to while we've been gone.

Nick shoots me a questioning look, "okay calm down what did the door do to you?" He jokes poking at my clear annoyance which for nicks sake, doesn't know the direct source, that being Chris hooking up with our best friend.

We make our way up the stairs and as soon as we turn the corner into the kitchen the smell of her arousal fills my nose and I inhale deeply trying to take it what I can, my mouth beginning to water.

I place the bags gently on the counter and start to unload the items trying hard to focus on my conversation with Nick and not the annoying smirk that paints Chris's face, the glow of her arousal still shimmering over his lips. Fuck.

Nick sensing my annoyance and the awkward silence between my brother and best friend, stops mid sentence and shoots me a questioning glare which I return with my own glare and shrug my shoulders, turning my attention to my best friend sitting awkwardly at the table.

"Everything okay in here?" I ask staring intensely into her eyes as I continue to empty the items from the bags. She looks back at me and her cheeks instantly flush before breaking our stare and looking towards Chris.

Nick adds, "Yeah what's with the awkward silence, usually you two don't ever shut the fuck up." I chuckle to myself as I watch him turn the oven on.

I noticed her and Chris exchange a knowing glance before they burst out laughing. I grit my teeth at their reaction, Chris annoyingly saying "yeah yeah we're good" patting Nick on the back and thankfully it's Nick who stands closer to him cause i would have swung on him right then and there for sticking his face between the legs of my girl.

She gets up and walks over to me a smile planted on her perfect and fucked out face. She stands beside me the heat of her body pressing against my side as she helps me gather the ingredients.

"Yeah it's all good guys let's make some fucking brownies" she says as she picks up the egg carton. I let out a heavy sigh and she shoots me a quick side glance with a raised brow. I decide to suffocate my jealousy with a hard swallow and smile back at her.

As we start mixing the missing ingredients in all I can think about is how much I regret wanting these fucking brownies.

a/n - let me know what ya guys thinkkkkkk <3

updated a/n - part 2 posted below MWAH xx

#matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt x reader #chris x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader

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nereidprinc3ss · 3 months

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baby fever

in which reader and spencer discuss having a baby while at work

fluff warnings/tags: fem/AFAB!reader, bau!reader, BOYFRIEND!SPENCER or husband if u so desire, discussions of pregnancy/having a baby (obviously), reader wants a baby, so does spencer a/n: god i need him so badly. should i write follow up smut?? mwahaha evil emoji......

The coffee finished brewing minutes ago, but you’re still standing by the pot, watching Anderson’s daughter toddling around the bullpen on chubby legs. She’s not very adept at walking, but her spirit is indomitable—every time she tips a little too far forward, she catches herself and gets right back up. It’s not like she’s doing anything particularly impressive or even interesting, but you can’t take your eyes off her. Every movement makes your heart twinge, every giggle or curious quirk of her head is so adorable it physically hurts in your chest.

From your peripheral vision you see Spencer approaching, bearing his own empty mug, but not even he can draw your attention away from the adorable little pixie and her tutu and her pigtails.

“That is the cutest kid I have ever seen in my life,” you whisper to Spencer, hoping the quiet tone of your voice will help hide how much you feel like cooing and squealing.

He smiles to himself as he pours his coffee.

“That’s Rosie. Have you said hi yet?”

“I’m afraid if I talk to her I’ll try to keep her.”

“She is pretty adorable.”

You turn to him as he leans next to you on the counter, sipping his coffee casually.

“Adorable? Spencer. Puppies are adorable. You’re not understanding the magnitude of what I mean right now. I can’t explain to you how much adorable doesn’t cut it. I’m not kidding about the child abduction thing.”

HIs eyes slide around the room as he chuckles into his mug.

“Let’s maybe not joke about kidnapping a child in FBI headquarters.”

“I’m not joking,” you hiss. “I feel like I’m going insane. I just—”

At the last second you stop yourself, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

“You just what?” Spencer asks, adjusting the hem of your shirt with his free hand. You glance down, watching the care he takes in the tiniest detail that you wouldn’t have given a second thought to.

“Is something wrong with my shirt?”

His eyes flick up to yours, hazel tinted with mild surprise.

“No. It just was sliding up your waist a little bit.” As he says it, his knuckles brush the bare skin of your torso. You suppress a shiver, studying his profile once he pulls his hand away and goes for another sip.

“Can we have one?”

Your inopportune timing results in coffee dribbling down Spencer’s chin as he quickly attempts to wipe it away, wide eyes torn between you and trying to assess the mess he’s made.

“You--you mean like a baby?”

“Yeah, like a baby,” you say, grabbing his shoulders and squaring them to you before dabbing the coffee from his face and jacket. He watches on as you clean him up, completely still except for his wandering eyes.

“I thought we were waiting on that.”

“Waiting for what? A better time? There’s never going to be a good time with this job. And it’s not like we’d have to quit. Look at JJ. She has two and still does it.”

“First of all,” Spencer begins, quickly recovering from your surprise proposition, “I don’t love the idea of either of us being in the field with you pregnant. And secondly, JJ also has Will and her mother to take care of the boys. We don’t have that. We’re both here all the time.”

“I don’t care,” you groan, trashing the paper towels once you’ve done the best you can with his clothing. “We’d figure it out somehow!”

“Mhm. It sounds like you’ve really devoted some careful consideration to this.”

You drop your head to your shoulder, giving him your best puppy dog eyes and pulling lightly on his shirtsleeve.

“Oh, come on. You haven’t thought about it at all? My perfect brain and your pretty face fusing to create a future Nobel-prize winner? Imagine how cute she would be, Spencer, we could put her hair in little braids and pigtails and we could dress her up and she could be in soccer and ballet and—”

“She?” he smiles, studying your face intently. You roll your eyes.

“Yes, she. Obviously we would have a girl. You—”

The idea of Spencer as the father of your daughter hits you like a tidal wave, stopping you dead in your tracks. The images materialize in your mind’s eye so clearly, it’s like they’re already memories, so real and tangible you have no doubt it must come to fruition someday. But if before, your ranting was mostly a silly fantasy—now it’s become a bit more intense.

He seems to sense your shift in mood. The big smile thaws slightly as he subtly grabs your hand on the counter.

“What? What’s wrong?”

There he goes again. Being kind. Being perfect.

Tears sting your eyes, but you don’t let them fall.

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong. I just... didn’t realize how badly I actually wanted that until I said it out loud.”

The concern in his eyes softens to pure affection as he runs his thumb over the back of your hand.

“I want it too. And whenever you decide you’re ready I’ll drop everything for you.”

His words are like compounding pressure to the deep heat within you—forming something so solid and perfect you don’t have to wonder if it’s real. A ten on the Mohs scale, a concept that gets closer to actualizing by the minute.

Your voice is quiet, revelatory as you admire the amber facets in his eyes.

“You’re ready?”

“I’ve been ready for quite some time,” he admits. And at once you feel the certainty of him paint your past and your future with one broad brushstroke. One day you will look back on your life and remember the time before Spencer, and that will be it. There is before Spencer, and with Spencer, but never an after Spencer. He wants to create something utterly permanent with you. “Come here.”

He sets his mug down, carefully pulling you forward so you’re toe to toe with your back to the rest of the BAU; so that only he can see you. Despite how good the two of you are at avoiding PDA, occasionally an exception is made. He tenderly wipes away the few tears that have sprung from your waterline and accepts your arms around his waist, mirroring your embrace and completely enveloping you.

“I love you,” he murmurs against the top of your hair, quiet enough that nobody in the office has a chance of hearing it. You sniffle.

“I love you too. Also you smell really good.”

He chuckles, hand roaming up and down your back for a moment.

“And that is why we are holding off on this at least for a while.”

“What do you mean?” you whisper indignantly as he gently peels you off him. His hands remain a steadying force on your waist as he smiles down at you beatifically.

“I mean let’s give it two weeks and see if you still want a baby when you’re not ovulating.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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moonstruckme · 3 months

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wearing spencers clothes🤯🤯 the boy would not be able to focus!!!! i love all of your work btw!! you're single handedly encouraging me back into my marauders phase❤️

Then my scheme is working ! Thanks for requesting babe :)

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Spencer has to force himself out of bed so you don’t wake up to him staring at you. Also, so he has time away from you to get himself together.

He’s never felt so much like skipping before. As soon as he’s in the kitchen, full to bursting with the knowledge that you’re asleep one room over, his smile is unshakable. It’s embarrassing, honestly, he’s like a high schooler. You can’t see him like this. He starts going through the kitchen to see what’s not expired. Ketchup, hummus, bread, muffin mix (too risky), mattar paneer (not a very good breakfast), eggs. Spencer can work with eggs. He has to double-check that he has both salt and pepper, but he’s good to go.

He pops bread in the toaster once he hears you moving around, a giddy flare of anticipation shooting up through his middle. You’ve never stayed over before, and Spencer didn’t have any time to prepare. He only has one hand towel, which you seem fine with sharing and he’s going to pop in the washing machine as soon as you leave, and only one toothbrush. He feels bad that you have to brush your teeth with your finger. If you deem him worthy of a next time, he tells himself, he’ll be ready then.

He hears the quiet padding of your footsteps but forces himself not to turn around until you say, “Morning.”

Your voice is still stretched with sleep, and when Spencer turns around he can see it still lingering in your face. Your eyelids are droopy, weighted down, and your hair looks like you’ve tried to run your fingers through it but couldn’t quite get it to behave, and you’re—that’s his sweater vest. You’re wearing his sweater vest.

He must be staring, because you look down at it, your expression going sheepish. “Sorry, is this okay? I know you’re sort of particular about germs, but I didn’t want to just come out here naked, and I really didn’t feel like putting on my jeans…”

Spencer shakes his head quickly. “No, it’s fine.” All the stuff you’d done last night, and you think he’s going to be fussy about your germs on his clothes? This is a completely different kind of upset. You’re—you look—well, you look like something Spencer dreamed up. You look like comfort and sweetness and Sunday morning.

“Okay, thanks.” You smile. Spencer thinks that if he was hooked up to a transducer, you’d actually be able to see the rush of dopamine to his brain. “It’s lucky you’re so tall, this fits me like a dress.”

A small dress, but sure. “I also have a disproportionately long torso,” he blurts. “My legs aren’t as long as they should be for my height, so my shirts and vests are longer than average.”

You nod like everything he’s just said made perfect and socially acceptable sense. The toast pops up and Spencer jolts a little, remembering to push the eggs around in the pan a bit.

A little smile tilts your lips, and you lean back against the counter behind him. “Are you making us breakfast?”

“Mhm.”

The smile spreads, your eyes going soft. “That’s so sweet of you,” you say warmly. “Thanks, Spence.”

“I can’t really cook,” he warns you. “I mean, I can usually do eggs, but only scrambled and even then I might…don’t thank me yet.”

A little laugh spurts out of you. It reminds Spencer of the fountain in front of his work, of water sparkling in the sun. “Okay,” you say, “do you want any help?”

“It’s probably best if whatever happens is undeniably my fault.”

You laugh again. He wonders what he can do to make that keep happening.

“Fair enough.” You push off the counter, headed towards the door. “Do you get the paper?”

For a second, Spencer’s too busy watching you go to remember if he does. “Y—yeah. It should be here by now,” he says.

He hears the door open, and then, “Perfect.” You come back brandishing the rolled-up paper, discarding the rubber band in his trash bin. “Do you mind if we do your crossword? You seem like you’d be so good at that.”

Spencer actually stopped doing the crossword years ago—the pop culture references he didn’t get, and the rest were too easy—but he’ll do it if it might impress you.

“Sure, let’s try.”

“Okay.” You grab a pen from the coffee table, spreading the paper open on the countertop. “Wyoming’s state sport, five—”

“Rodeo,” Spencer says. It takes him a beat to realize he cut you off. He turns, grimace in place and apology on his lips. “Sorry.”

But you’re grinning. You shake your head a little bit, pride or admiration or a bit of both, and write it down. You push a piece of hair away from your face. Spencer’s eyes get caught on the wool of his sweater vest where it brushes your collarbone.

“African river to the Mediterranean, four letters. That’s the Nile, right?”

The garment seems to shift with every tiny movement. Sliding atop your shoulders, moving about your neckline, the soft material skimming your ribs. Under the counter, it has to be bunched underneath your thighs.

“Spence?”

“Hm?” He forces his gaze up. “Yeah, the Nile.”

“Thanks.” Your eyes linger on him a second too long before you bend back over the paper, a knowing smile playing on the corner of your lips. “Okay, and eagle claw in five letters is talon, right? Oh, um, eggs.”

Spencer’s brow wrinkles. “How many letters?”

“No, Spence.” You laugh, sliding out of your seat. You tug his sweater down a bit as you walk over, the band at the bottom hugging your thighs. “The eggs. Your eggs.”

He turns, registering the smell of smoke before the sight of the crispy, blackened eggs in his pan. “Oh.”

You reach past him, elbow bumping his as you switch off the heat. Spencer moves the hot pan away from you quickly. He scrapes his sorry eggs into the trash bin, setting the pan in the sink. “Sorry, I got distracted by the crossword,” he tells you, and though he suspects you catch the lie you’re kind enough not to call him out on it.

“It’s fine.” You shoot him another of those brilliant, beaming smiles, taking a piece of cold toast from the toaster. “I love toast. Do you have any butter or jam or anything?”

Spencer winces. “Not really…”

You laugh, giving his arm a reassuring pat. “No worries. I’m down for a trip to the store if you are.” He nods sheepishly, and you press your lips together, thoughtful. “I think I might change first, though.”

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bruisedboys · 1 year

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hobie brown loves to make you flustered!! like it’s his favourite thing!!! seeing you get all hot in the cheeks when he makes some flirty comment. y’look ravishing today, love in his thick accent. cue you stumbling through a thank you and desperately avoiding looking him in the eye. that’s the other thing!!! he will look you straight in the eye when he’s talking to you. it’s totally intimidating and a little (a lot) attractive. it tells you he’s paying attention to you and isn’t distracted by anything or anyone else. he wants to listen to you and talk to you. he wants to hear what you’ve got to say.

also!!! he’s not really a pda guy I feel like. mostly because he doesn’t want to embarrass you in front of other people but also, it just doesn’t appeal to him? he doesn’t see the point in showing everyone you’re his, they should already know by now, anyway. he likes to save the intimate stuff for when it’s just you and him, y’know? so when you’re alone boyyy does he get handsy …

you’re at the kitchen counter eating cereal in the morning and he comes up behind you out of nowhere (his spider powers mean he’s very quiet on his feet when he wants to be) and just scoops you into a hug, his arms locking around your waist. you drop your spoon into your bowl in surprise and milk splashes everywhere. you scold him and try to get up for a paper towel but he’s got an iron grip and does not want to let go. he ignored your struggling, burying his face in your neck with a muttered, s’no use crying over spilt milk, babe in his raspy I-just-woke-up voice. you’re watching a movie on the couch and he’s got his arm around your waist, his hand under your shirt and squeezing at the flesh of your hip. or on your thigh, rubbing circles into your jeans. he’s kissing you and both of his big hands are cupping your jaw, tilting you upwards for a better angle, because he’s so tall that even if you’re tall too he still towers over you.

(also I cannot stop thinking about how big his hands are. how he’d always have one on your waist or hip or the small of your back. how he’d squeeze your hip when he wants your attention or how he cups your face with his abnormally large hand when he pulls you in for a kiss.)

#I think. I think I’m maybe just a bit obsessed #just a little bit #★ mal writes!#ღ hobie #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown blurb #hobie brown drabble #spiderpunk #spiderpunk x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #spiderman: across the spiderverse #spiderman #hobie brown fluff

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wizzard890 · 1 year

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So there’s a trend that I absolutely hate in online discussions of (non-satirical) genre, particularly genre that’s influenced by the gothic. This trend makes my eyes roll back in my head until I can see through my own skull. It makes me want to bite a car in half. It makes me want to step into the jellyfish tank at the New York Aquarium and beg for the sweet sweet annihilation of a thousand stings.

I call this trend: Oh Just Be Sensible, and it goes like this:

“Why do vampires always end up covered in blood when they feed, I don’t spill soup all down the front of my shirt when I eat dinner. Real toddler energy.”

“Why do people always cut their hands to swear oaths, everyone knows it would hurt way less on the [insert body part with fewer nerve endings]”

“Vampires shouldn’t be feeding from people’s wrists, it damages the tendons, if doctors don’t take your blood from your wrist, vampires shouldn’t either! No one will be able to flex their fingers the next day.”

(This comes up a lot with vampires, I mention, as I stride purposefully into the glistening mass of jellyfish.)

There are direct answers for some of these when it comes to the practical visual language of a particular medium (for example, you cut your hand on stage / on set because you can hold a blood pack in there, and even if you don’t have an effect, the gesture and its purpose can be discerned from the nosebleeds) but what really gets me is how thematically boneheaded this sort of observation is.

Like, let’s go down the list here.

Why do vampires end up covered in their victims’ blood? Well Scoob, do you think it could maybe have something to do with their bestial, inhuman nature? Or with the erotic and sensual abandon with which they can approach violence, now that they’re untethered from human morals?

Why do people cut their hands to swear oaths? Aside from what I mentioned above, do you think maybe it’s because it adds a layer of gravity to see two people swearing an oath to one another with blood dripping from their clasped hands? Do you think it’s maybe to evoke a unity of body, something greater and more primal than a unity of word? Or maybe to remind us of the dire consequences of breaking a blood oath?

Why are authors having vampires feed from people’s wrists if it damages their tendons? Damn, maybe that’s because it’s where the pulse is. You know, the pulse? The heartblood, the thing that races when you’re scared or turned on or both? The thing that stutters when you’re close to death and could, should the author choose, ring in the vampire’s ears like a chime or a great pounding thunderclap. Maybe in a story about undead beings who drink blood, we can sacrifice a bit of sensible reality in order to enforce the emotion and thematic heft of a scene?

Images like these communicate what is happening between two characters, not just the events that are transpiring! No one making stories forgot to consider ~sensible~ little observations, because it would be absolutely inane to consider an observation with the creative value of a wet paper towel. This stuff is part of our visual language for a reason! Themes also need to be communicated!

God, like, okay, I’m exhausted and the aquarium staff keeps yelling at me when they find me here, but let me just wrap up by saying that relationships, character and meaning are expressed in so many ways beyond dialogue or internal monologue, and those expressions are so rarely sensible.

(Also all this shit looks cool as hell, do you really want your protagonists swearing to die for one another by dabbing their slightly bleeding elbows together, grow up.)

#me: don't make me tap the sign #sign: fun allowed #(thematic clarity and character relationships should trump sensible realism every time)#(realism is fine! but monocle popping smirky little 'hmm I think dan brown was an idiot' smugness is just....bad!)#(it's bad and it makes for bad writing!)#my thoughts about books

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markatoto · 9 months

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fan of breasts?

chicken breasts? yeah! they are, maybe & arguably, one of the most delicious part of the chicken. well, maybe next to drumsticks (which i personally prefer for things like fried chicken, or soups). in particular, i like to use chicken breasts for making katsu, which, lemme tell ya, i'm no expert cook, but id like to think that i do a pretty good job.

matter of fact, if you want an extremely simple recipe, here's how i personally make chicken katsu (all off the top of my head, so some slight details might be missing, so please bear with me):

you'll need a few ingredients

panko (any sort of breadcrumbs will work, but panko is just the brand i use)

cookin' oil (usually simple vegtable oil will work)

the actual chicken breast, of course

the ol' traditional: salt and pepper

one egg (u dont need any more than one egg, typically)

if u wanna make things extra crunchy, having some corn starch mixed in with garlic powder + onion powder for some extra seasoning. maybe even a scoosh of paprika for that yummy (i personally like using this filipino chicken mixture called "crispy fry", which is usually used for fried chicken, but it works here too. it's usually meant for fried chicken drumstick, but what is katsu but a different kind of fried chicken)

anyways, here's how u wanna do things:

take out your chicken breast, pat it down with a paper towel so that it aint wet on the surface and either: slice it so that the chicken breast is about inch and a quarter (or so) thick OR use a mallet to make it around that thickness. youll want your chicken flat as possible, but not too flat! i think you know what i mean.

salt and peppa that mothafucka, both sides (OPTIONAL STEP 2B: it's at this point id probably mix my chicken breast with the starch mixture/crispy fry. it just gives a lil extra flavour and crunch that i enjoy. but this is just me, u dont really gotta do it)

crack open an egg and put it in a bowl. MIX IT UP

put your flattened (and maybe crispy fry seasoned) chicken in the egg. get it drenched, you want that panko to stick to that shit

what i like to do is i like to put panko in a plastic container with a lid, then i put the chicken in the container, close the lid up and just SHAKE it so that its nice and evenly coated. super simple and fun and WAY cleaner to deal with after the fact LOL

pop your oil in your pan. put in generous amount, enough that your chicken wont necessarily be drowning, but enough that your chicken will be sufficiently fried. heat that up until the oil reaches that perfect temperature of around 350'F (that is THE temp for doing any deep frying)

pop your chicken on the pan and leave it frying on the one side for, id say, approximately 4-5 minutes. youre going to have to keep a close watch on it. make sure that panko is that GOOD crispy brown on each side. over all it should take you like…. 7-9 minutes for your katsu to be done.

BEFORE YOU EAT... make sure the internal temp of the chicken is around 160 - 165'F. if it is, it's good to go. take it out and, what i like to do is get a plate and pop on a paper towel to let the katsu dry off all the excess oil. even though its off the pan, that shit is STILL cookin, so youll want to leave it alone for like… a minute or two. plus if you eat it now you'll totally burn your tongue and that's the WORST feeling in the world

and after all that, your katsu is done! get some jasmine (white) rice, put on some katsu sauce and some japanese mayo with a lil bit of furikake for that slight seaweed flavoring and youll be GOOD to go!!

so yeah, i guess you can say i'm a fan of breasts.

#the questions

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queenofcoquette · 9 months

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organize & stay organized

introduction:

hey loves! one of my biggest pet peaves is messiness. i hate rooms that are out of order, houses that are a mess. it's just not a good look. additionally, it's been proven that having a messy external world can affect your mental health. since organiztion is such a struggle- what habits can help us stay clean?

daily habits:

keep clothes off the floor. never leave clothes on the floor! either put them in your dresser/closet or in the laundry room.

clean up after yourself. lets say you're sketching and you've got all your materials out. when you're done- put them back!

tidy up at night. i like to just clean up before bed because it's pretty relaxing, and when you clean your room consistently then it eliminates the need to do giant cleans once a month, you just spend a few minutes everyday instead.

keep to do lists. this isn't really external orgaization, more of a mental thing, but keep a to-do list and a calendar so you stay organized in life and have everything in order :)

weekly habits:

organize your backpack. get out old paper, put things where they need to go, just create a space that's easy to find what you need.

wash your sheets. you can do this every two weeks. but please no longer that that. our sheets hold dirt, dust, dead skin and we all should sleep in clean beds.

change out your towel every week or so. you can also do this every 3 days or so, just please don't keep the same towel for too long.

dedicate a morning to cleaning. on the weekends i like to spend one day where i just tidy up during the morning- dusting, rearranging stuff, playing music in the background, it's very relaxing :)

conclusion:

a clean living environment is not only pleasing to the eye, but it's been proven to help with mental clarity, and in geeral is a good habit to have. if you want to build discipline, having an organized external environment is a great first step :)

#that girl #that girl 2023 #self improvement #pink pilates princess #queenofcoquette

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flowerxbunnie · 2 months

Note

Tattoo artist matt 🫦 and he’s praising the reader and telling her she’s taking it really well 🫦🫦 and she gets addicted to it and keeps coming back for more tattoos 🫦🫦🫦 and he’s like ‘wow you’re single-handedly paying my bills, this one’s on the house’ 🫦🫦🫦🫦 and she’s like ‘no, i gotta pay you.’ 🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦 i think you know where i’m going with this

ps I love you 💋

Ink

Tattoo artist!Matt x Fem Reader

Warnings: needles, blood, pain, tension, no smut (yet?? 😏) but veryyyyyy suggestive at times

6.3k words

Your skin is tender and raw, a soft wince drawn from your mouth as your tattoo artist wipes the excess ink with a rough paper towel.

“So proud of this one,” Alex beams as she scoots back in her chair, the wheels rolling her towards her supply cart. She grabs a roll of plastic wrap and some tape before using her feet to roll back toward your chair. “Let’s get you all wrapped up.”

“It turned out so good, dude.” You say in awe as you hold your arm out to her.

“Did you expect any less?” She jokes, wrapping the wound snugly and taping it up before shooting you a smile. “All done. Keep the wrap on for a few hours. It’ll be a little leaky, that’s normal. Wash once a day with unscented soap… blah blah blah you know the drill. Still legally obligated to tell you.” She chuckles at the end, standing up to throw away her stained gloves. “Come up to the desk whenever you’re ready.” She says before she turns on her feet and heads to the front of the shop.

You stand up and gather your belongings feeling the adrenaline rush a new tattoo always seems to bring out of you. Your arm pulses and slightly burns, a sensation you’d become addicted to over the past couple of years. You’re not covered in ink by any means, but you’ve gotten your fair share, all done by Alex.

You love the way her shop feels more like a home than a sterile clinical office. Tapestries are hung haphazardly across the walls, strings of fairy lights sprawl across the ceilings and there’s more weird little knick-knacks strewn about than you could ever imagine counting. Your favorite is the preserved butterflies she has in shadow boxes lined down the hallway.

Once you gather your keys and bag, you take the walk to the front and admire all the sketches pinned along the walls. Alex is waiting for you with a warm smile as she tells you the total. You sit your bag down and rummage for your wallet, gathering the money along with a generous tip as always.

“You want the change back?” She asks as she counts the bills.

“Just take the fucking tip Alex.” You raise an eyebrow at her.

“You know you don’t have to do that,” she chuckles humbly, shaking her head as she sorts the cash into her vintage register.

“I know I don’t have to,” you laugh, tossing your wallet back into your bag, “I want to.”

You grab the strap of your bag and throw it across your shoulder, knocking a binder off the counter in the process. You let out a quiet curse as you bend down to pick it up, flipping it over to look at the cover.

“Oh, you should look through that!” Alex chimes in excitedly. “It’s a bunch of flash pieces that are up for grabs. They’re going quick, you should pick one out!”

“Oh nice..” you thumb through the pages, studying the intricate artwork tucked behind sheet protectors. “These are so good Alex..”

“You think?” She asks, bending down to restock her glass display cabinet with more tattoo salve.

You turn page after page, seeing traditional pieces like tigers and roses, more abstract watercolor pieces and some random goofy sketches of cartoon characters. You stop when you come across a snake separated into segments with the word ‘collarbone’ scratched underneath of it.

“This one is so detailed,” you say, running your fingers across the sheet protector. “Why’s it all broken up like that?”

Alex stands back up to her feet and looks over the page, her brows furrowing a bit as she adjusts her glasses. “Oh, it’s because it’s made to look like it’s wrapping around your collarbone. Like it’s going into your skin kinda.”

“Oh, sick,” You say excitedly, “I’ll take that one then. When can you get me in?”

“That’s not mine, girl. That’s the new guy’s design. You may have seen him here before? He transferred here like three…ish months ago?” She rambles as she sorts through a stack of paperwork.

You think back, not recalling seeing a different face in the shop. “I don’t think I’ve seen anyone new. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve been here and you usually get me in and out.” You pull the binder closer and admire the tiny detailing of the snake skin. “He looks pretty good.. but I don’t know if I can cheat on you.” You sigh jokingly.

“Honestly, he’s fucking amazing. His card is right there if you wanna make an appointment.” She points to a carousel of different artists’ cards. “Matt… the black card.. yep that’s it.”

You stick the matte black card in your bag and give Alex a humorous warning glare. “If he fucks my tattoo up Alex I swear to god.”

“Just make the appointment, Y/n. He’ll do good, promise. Why would I hire someone whose work I don’t trust?” She laughs and steps out from behind the counter, walking towards the door. “Now get out of my shop, I need to rest my eyes.” She laughs as she pulls the door open.

——————

You dig through your bag, pulling out hair ties, loose sticks of gum and countless receipts as you search for your favorite chapstick. “I swear I left it in here,” you think out loud, gasping as your finger slides across the corner of something sharp. You pull your hand back, sucking back a curse and see a tiny paper cut on your finger, laughing at the fact that something so small can hurt so bad. You reach back in and grab the culprit, a black sturdy rectangular card.

Fuck. It’s been 3 days.

You look over the card.

Matt Sturniolo

Appointments by text.

Come get somethin’ nice!

You pull out your phone and create a new contact, typing the 10 digit number slowly and double checking, making sure you got every single one right. You let out a sigh that you’ve been holding back, deciding to drop your worries, bite the bullet and make the appointment.

Alex won’t care, she doesn’t mind. She wants me to.

He thinks I’m a guy, funny, you think to yourself, locking your phone and sitting it on the counter.

—————

The week comes and goes, the same mundane routine dragging you through the creeping days. It’s finally Friday, meaning you’re risking the integrity of your skin on an artist you’ve never even met before, let alone vetted his work. Sure, he can draw a sketch but can he execute it just as well into your skin? The entire drive to the shop you shuffle through your playlist while your fingers absentmindedly tap against the steering wheel, mind racing with every possible outcome.

You sit in the parking lot, nerves at an all time high as you scroll through TikTok trying to numb your brain while the minutes pass. You quickly peek up to the clock on your dashboard, heaving a sigh.

5:32.

Fuck. I still have way too much time.

You groan quietly and put your phone down in your cupholder, leaning your head back against the headrest and close your eyes. Your left foot taps slowly against the footrest in your floorboard, creating a steady rhythm, pulsing along with your music that quietly hums in the speakers. You pick your head back up and grip the steering wheel with a huff, tracing your hands up and down around the warm leather.

Your eyes follow passersby as they stroll and pace down the sidewalk, essentially people watching. Your hand somehow makes its way to your mouth without realizing, your nails picking and pulling at the skin of your lips habitually. You only notice when you taste the bitter metallic flavor of blood on your tongue, silently scolding yourself as you pull down your vanity mirror.

You lick the wound and pull your sore bottom lip between your teeth, suddenly hyperaware of the shriveled, dehydrated state they’re in. Leaning across your car to reach for the glovebox, you pull it open and grab the lip oil you leave in your car for moments like this. You shut the glovebox and center yourself in the reflection of the mirror, opening the tube and applying a much too generous amount of the gloss to your lips. You smack and pucker your lips, appreciating the way they seem to come back to life, plump and slightly tinted.

You look to the side as you run your finger against the corner of your mouth, cleaning up your work. A small blackboard that sits outside the door of the shop catches your attention, propped up and smeared with chalked in words. It lists the information for an upcoming tattoo fair, has random small sketches littering the board, and lists a social media account near the bottom.

Why haven’t I ever thought of that?

You pick your phone up out of the cupholder after you slam your mirror shut, clicking the Instagram icon and typing the handle into the search bar. You click on the account, seeing that Alex’s individual account is linked at the top as well as a piercer, Darren, who you’ve met a couple of times. You scroll down through the feed, seeing copious photo collages of fresh versus healed ink and videos with music edited into the background, featuring Alex working her magic in the shop.

You scroll past a reel of Alex promoting a clean brand of tattoo healing balms, your finger coming to a still as you land on a video of a man hunched in his chair, his body leaning over as he works a tattoo gun into someone’s leg. You can’t make out much of him from the video, but he’s clad in a stone washed black t-shirt and jeans littered with ink stains. Tattoos sprawl across his left arm that pulls at the person’s skin, holding it steady as he moves the dripping needle back and forth. Though his face isn’t visible, you notice his wispy, umber brown hair that falls forward as he works. Light catches the strands and outlines each wave as they cascade over his brow bone. Scrolling down, you read the caption.

“Matt may be new but he is making himself well known in the shop! Text him to book, slots are filling up fast!”

You scroll further and find more pieces done by Matt but can’t seem to find a tagged account. Your shot nerves are soothed a bit as you examine each flawless piece of art, every one of them so perfect it’s almost like a printed photo taped to skin. You can’t deny that the man is talented. You scroll down until you reach the very first photo that mentions his name, dated three months ago just like Alex had said.

Maybe I do trust him.

You break yourself from the distraction of your phone and check the time again, quickly fixing yourself in the mirror as you realize you need to head in immediately. Your soft fingers brush down the wild flyaways in your hair in an attempt to look as put together as possible. Grabbing the handle of your bag and slinging it across your shoulder, you turn off the ignition and step out of your car, making sure to lock the doors behind you.

You feel the ground beneath your feet meeting your body in shockwaves with each step you take towards the familiar building. In the reflection of the glass you watch your figure grow closer. You let out one last deep exhale as you grip the iron handle, pulling it open and feeling the cool air shoot across your skin.

As you step in and the door falls closed behind you, you take notice that the front desk is unoccupied. Distinct chatter can be heard over the music playing in the studio just down the hall and past the foyer, deep rumbling tones that you can’t piece together. You’re familiar enough with the shop that you feel comfortable going back without a so-called escort, so you grip the handle on your shoulder and begin the walk down the dimly lit hallway.

The walls open up into the studio and the music is so loud it almost vibrates your skin. You step closer to the source of the voices, one of them being the piercer you’re familiar with. He stands talking expressively with his hands to another man who sits with his back facing you, arms behind his head as he leans back into his chair.

“Is Matt here?” You question, looking around the rest of the studio.

The men continue on with their conversation, completely unaware you’d even said anything over the racket of the rock music. Clearing your throat, you step forward, just about six feet away from them at this point and speak up once again.

“Is anyone working the desk right now?”

The piercer turns his head to face you and the man in the chair spins around, planting his feet to stop himself.

His blue eyes catch your attention first, so bright the gaze is almost difficult to keep. But you do, and so does he. He drops his hands down from the back of his head, one of his arms coming to lay on the armrest of his chair and the other stroking the stubble that peppers his chin. The tattoos across his left arm in contrast to the blank one on the right tell you that this is your guy, this is Matt.

What you don’t know is how he feels his blood pumping hot at the sight of you. He does his best to keep his eyes above your shoulders, but he can’t help letting them wander down your supple, shining skin, immediately thinking about how soft it must be. Matt sees so many women everyday, some in very compromising positions, but just the sight of you standing in front of him has made him feel weak. The way you look so innocent and bright, juxtaposing the way you’re standing in front of his sketches of skulls and anatomically correct organs being feasted on by animals.

You feel a wave of awkward silence even through the intense bass sounding through the speakers. You ask once again if anyone is working the front desk, but your voice struggles to overpower the volume. You see Matt’s cheeks pull up into a chuckle as he reaches back around to the table, fishing for his phone and clicking the volume down considerably.

You huff, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice as you repeat yourself for the fourth time. “Is anyone working the front?”

“I’m sorry honey, we don’t take walk ins.” He rasps as he shoves his phone into the pocket of his jeans. “You’ll need to make an appointment.”

“I have one.” You retort, resting your weight on one of your legs.

The bearded man walks away to his piercing station, leaving the two of you in a sort of awkward staredown.

“Alex is out today, and I’m expecting a guy to be walking in any minute for my next appointment. Are you sure yours was for today?” He asks smoothly.

“You’re Matt right?”

His shoulders tense when you say his name, but he relaxes them as he nods his head. “Yeah, I’m Matt.”

“Oh, well then yeah.. I’m Y/n. Collarbone snake for 6 o’clock.” You clarify, pulling out your phone to ensure you had the date and time right.

His eyes widen and he silently scolds himself for assuming something so bold while being utterly wrong.

“Yeah, here it is.” You turn your phone to face him, stepping closer.

“I must have been tipsy when I replied or something,” he laughs and sits up in his chair, running his hands through his hair to soothe his embarrassment. “I assumed you’d be a dude for some reason.”

“No, at least not since the last time I checked.” You giggle, tossing your phone into your crowded bag.

His laugh gives you a sense of satisfaction, his hands coming up to rub his eyes as he catches his breath. “Shit, that’s my bad then.” He says while pushing himself up to stand, his arms flexing under the tight sleeves of his shirt.

“No worries.” You give him a genuine smile, not wanting him to feel any more embarrassed than you can already tell he is from his flushed cheeks.

He steps forward with a long stride, his frame much larger and taller than you expected once he passes you to head to the hallway. He tries to ignore the way his pulse quickened with the way you beamed up at him moments before, walking quickly to the front desk.

You follow behind, breathing in the lingering scent his cologne leaves in his trail. Stepping in front of the counter as he grabs a stack of haphazardly sorted papers, you grab a pen from the cup in front of you.

He slides them over to you, groaning as he flips them so they’re facing your direction. “Might not be much help reading them upside down.” He chuckles. “Alright, so I’m assuming you know the drill, yeah?” He nods his head at your arms, eyes flickering over the ink.

“Mhmm..” you hum as you concentrate on crossing off and initialing boxes stating you don’t have any medical conditions hindering you from getting tattooed.

Matt watches in silence as you skim over the pages, twisting the pen between your small fingers. He places both hands on the ledge in front of him and moves ever so slightly closer, enough to watch your lashes as they brush your cheeks with each blink. If he got any closer you’d probably feel his breath hitting your skin.

You print and sign your name on the bottom of the last page, capping the pen and tossing it back into the cup. He’s stepping back as you look up at him with the papers outstretched, deciding ogling over you isn’t a very professional first impression.

“My ID is already on file.” You say as he takes the stack and turns to the side to run them through the scanner.

“Well look at you, smart girl huh?” He jokes, pressing buttons to send the papers through the machine.

You feel warmth creeping up your neck and across your cheeks as the words fall from his lips. “I mean,” you pause with a giggle, “Alex is my only artist so I know she’s got everything she needs from me.”

“And you’re cheating on her with me?” He chuckles softly as he steps out from behind the counter, turning to head back towards the studio. “Let’s get this started, shall we?” His voice is quiet, his back to you as he walks ahead.

Matt’s shirt is stretched thin across his broad shoulders, and you absentmindedly let your eyes sink down his arms, following the veins that trail from them into his hands as they swing. His walk is confident and steady, unwavering.

Part of him wishes he had let you walk ahead of him so he could selfishly glue his eyes to your legs, drinking up the way your shorts hug them perfectly. But he has to keep this professional, you’re just a customer.

He walks to his table, gripping a handle and maneuvering the headboard so that you’ll be partially sitting, partially leaning back. “Go ahead and have a seat for me.” He gestures you to the table.

You sit your bag in your lap as you adjust in the seat, a chill running through you as the cold textured leather presses against your back. Matt stands over his supply cart, looking back and forth between you and a few sheets of paper.

“I printed a few stencils but they’re all man sized..” he laughs, crumpling them up and tossing them into his trash bin. “I’m gonna have to free hand it.”

Your eyes widen as he grabs a marker off the top of the cart and pulls the lid off with his teeth, scooting his rolling chair up to your table. “Uhh.. are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Honey…” he laughs, his head falling forward before he looks up at you with a grin. “You know I sketched the design free handed, right?”

You silently curse yourself and do your best to laugh it off, but you definitely made yourself feel incredibly dumb. Somehow he switched the mood and made it feel like he was laughing with you instead of at you, though.

“Alright… first let me…” he trails off, looking around his table before replacing the marker with a fresh razor. “I know you don’t have chest hair, but I kinda have to clear the canvas regardless.” He gives you a humored smile.

He pulls his chair up, his left hand brushing your hair off of your shoulder and down your back. He grabs your tank top strap with a clenched jaw, slowly sliding it down your shoulder. His fingers feel like jolts of electricity on your skin, like he shouldn’t be touching you, but also like you want more.

He’s a tattoo artist. Alex touches me everytime she does one of my tattoos. There’s nothing weird about it, stop making it weird.

You gulp and hope that your cheeks haven’t given away your feelings as he gets the strap out of his way and leans closer. You look forward, desperately trying to avoid eye contact with Matt as he slowly drags the razor across your skin.

“Alright there’s that.” He spins around and tosses the razor in the trash can, grabbing the marker once more. “Gonna sketch it out roughly right quick. It won’t look as detailed right now but I’ll add ‘em in later.” He mumbles as he tilts his head, bringing the marker to your collarbone.

Matt drags the marker across your skin with furrowed brows as he perfects the curvature of the snake to look like it’s wrapping around your bone. He can smell your sweet perfume permeating from your body, so close he can almost sniff out the individual notes. “You smell like candy.” He blurts out before he can stop himself. He bites down on his lip, shutting his eyes for a moment before he gets straight back to sketching, hoping you didn’t find it odd.

“Thank you!” You beam, “Funny enough it’s actually Prada Candy. I love it.”

He hums in response and finishes up his outline, rolling back to look at it from further away. “Sit up for me right quick.” He instructs and you listen. He nods his head, approving of his placement and sketch. “Let’s make sure you like it first.” He turns to the side and grabs a handheld mirror off his cart. He holds it out to you, his fingertips brushing yours as he hands it off.

“I love it! It’s the perfect size. Even just the sketch looks so good.” You grin as you study the purple ink in the mirror. You smile as you hand the mirror back to him, taking notice of the subtle curve of his lips.

“Great then. Already got the machine all set up and the ink wells filled. You ready?” He asks with raised eyebrows.

The look on his face tells you that you might have bitten off more than you can chew. “I… think I’m ready. Should I be worried?”

He sucks his teeth as he looks down with a stifled smirk. “Well… the collarbone isn’t the most pleasant place to get a needle jammed into your skin, I’ll leave it at that.”

You look to him with wide eyes. You’d never even considered how painful it might be, all of your other tattoos being on your arms and lower legs. “Matt, you’re scaring me.” You nervously laugh.

His stomach does a flip when you say his name for the second time today. He shoved the feeling down and reaches over, grabbing the tattoo gun in his right hand and turning it on briefly. The vibration sounds throughout the room and he assures it’s in good working condition before shutting it back off and looking up at you. “I think you’re a brave girl, you can take it.” He says lowly but causally as he rolls up next to the table, resting his left arm next to your shoulder.

The way Matt’s words fall from his lips like honey makes your skin feel as if it’s being licked with flames. You look down as he flips the gun on once again and dips the needle into the pitch black ink, the fluid dripping onto the table as he slowly raises it toward you.

“You’re gonna have to turn a little.” He almost whispers as he uses his left hand to guide your jaw to the side, giving him better access to your skin. “Alright, there we go.” He leans in as he brings the needle down into your skin, a sharp scratching and stinging pain making you gasp lightly. “You good?” He asks in a caring tone as he lifts the gun back up and scans your pained expression.

“Yeah, yeah.. I’m okay.” You breathe out. “Feels a lot different than arms and legs.”

You see him nod silently and lower the needle back to the surface of your skin, slowly pressing all the way down until he’s drawing the solid outline. He adjusts his left arm and places his warm hand onto your shoulder, his fingers gripping and pulling at the skin to keep it taut. He glances up at your face every now and again as he tattoos you, his view of your side profile and jawline begging him to keep looking. “You can move your head now. Got that upper outline all done.”

You turn your head to look at him, a smile pulling at your cheeks when you see he’s already looking up at you with hooded lids. He flashes you a small crooked grin before dipping his head back down and working on the rest of the outline. You squirm in your chair as the needle moves and works across your flesh, the area growing hot and tender.

You see a thin sheen of sweat forming on his arms under the heat of his overhead light, illuminating every dip and valley through the rolling veins on his hands. His wrist moves back and forth as he maneuvers the machine, his lip bitten between his teeth. Every few minutes his body must become sore because he moves his legs, adjusting in his seat before he brings his grip back to your shoulder.

He concentrates as he finishes the last of the outlining details, sitting up against the backrest of his chair and putting the gun down on his cart. “All done with the outline.” He smiles.

“Really?” You marvel excitedly. You peer down to take a look but huff once you realize you can’t bend your neck enough to get a good view.

Matt takes notice and leans over to grab the handheld mirror off his cart, except his left hand finds a spot atop your knee, sliding gingerly down your calf as he stretches toward his cart. As soon as his touch is there it’s gone. He leans back toward you and hands you the handle, smiling when you examine it in the mirror. “What do you think?”

You won’t lie to yourself, your pulse quickened when his hand brushed down your leg. Your only hope is he doesn’t notice the trail of goosebump he left behind in the absence of his touch. You struggle to find words, your mouth hanging open before you eventually find your voice. “I.. uh… l-looks really good.”

He exhales a small chuckle as he turns to switch the outlining needle for a shading needle. “Let me know if you need a break before I start this part.” He mumbles as he dips the set of needles into the well of ink.

You quickly shake your head. “Nope, get it over with.” You say flatly, closing your eyes. Shading is hit or miss, it either feels super relieving or like you’re getting shredded with a freshly sharpened cheese grater.

“That’s a good girl. All in one go, hm?” He murmurs as he scoots closer yet again.

He did not just say that. I’m thinking too much into this.

You give him a light chuckle and suck air in through your teeth once the needles meet your skin.

“Shhh.. you’re doing good. A lot better than a lot of crybaby men that have been on my table.” He coos as he drags the ink over the raw, bleeding skin.

If it wasn’t Matt you’d be much more of a mess. You’d probably be damn near in tears. But you can’t seem weak around him, so you bite your lip and squeeze your eyes shut as he shades and details the design. Your hands clench the air until your knuckles are white and throbbing, your body needing to release energy into anything other than the pain you’re in.

“Squeeze my arm if you need to. I don’t mind.” Matt proposes, stilling his movement and brushing his brown waves out of his eyes before looking at you expectantly.

You gulp and move your shaking hands to his bicep, wrapping your dainty fingers around the expanse of it lightly.

“C’mon, give me more than that.” He chuckles, “Just don’t squeeze hard enough that I fuck up your ink.”

You grip into his arm with more pressure, feeling his muscles expand and contract under his skin as he moves his forearm.

Thank god Darren left earlier. This looks so… personal.

When a small strained whimper slips out of your mouth he clears his throat, blinking hard as he wipes the tattoo with the paper towel in his left hand. He knows it’s because of the pain, he knows he shouldn’t enjoy the sound. But he does.

He can’t help himself as he finishes up the rest of the tattoo. He finds himself pressing the needle into your skin with more pressure than necessary, enough to draw more pretty sounds out of you and make you grip onto his arm. Enough for you to throw your head back onto the leather of the table, squirming your legs as you squeeze your eyes shut. He’d never do anything to mess up the integrity of his art, but god does he want to. He knows it’s wrong that his pants grow tighter with every move you make, every curse you let out as he pushes more and more ink into your skin. He sees this everyday, why is it affecting him like this?

The angel on his shoulder tells him to get the tattoo done, work fast and get you off his table. The devil on his other tells him to keep you here writhing and squeezing at him for as long as he can. His eyes drift across your sweaty face, your wet baby hairs sticking to your forehead. Your chest rises and falls as he digs in, taking his time to let the needle drag. His mind floods with sin, his hands desperately aching to pull the neckline of your tank top even a millimeter lower.

Your harsh squeeze to his arm snaps him out of his stream of thought, realizing he’d been keeping this on for too long, causing you unnecessary pain. Lifting the needle from your skin, he examines the finished piece for a moment. “All done.” He says flatly, pulling his arm from your grasp to set the machine down on his cart.

“Fuck… that was intense.” You breathe out, turning your head toward him.

“Mmm but you did great. Sat so well.” He praises as he grabs a bottle of cleaning solution.

You have no time to react before he’s squirting the liquid onto your collarbone, a harsh pulsing sting deep in your skin. “Oh that’s… fucking horrible.” You do your best to laugh through the sting.

He laughs along with you, nodding while he lets his eyes watch the droplets that flow down your chest and into the valley of your cleavage. He tears his eyes away and looks at his cart, scoffing when his box of paper towels proves empty. “Gotta go get some more paper towels,” he holds up the box, “be right back.”

“I won’t move a muscle.” You giggle and lean back onto the table.

He offers a quick smile before standing up, quickly turning around and walking to the utility closet across the studio. Once inside and out of view, he lets his hand wander down to the waistband of his jeans, slowly trailing lower to brush over his throbbing erection. He knows this is bad. He’s never had this kind of reaction to a client, and he can’t be crazy. He knows he’s seen you looking too.

He lets his rough fingertips push his shirt up and dip beneath his jeans and boxers, grabbing ahold of his pulsing cock with a slow, shaking breath. He pulls it up and tucks it into his waistband, knowing he can’t let you see the struggling tent in his pants when he walks back into the studio.

He quickly grabs a new sterile stack of paper towels and fills the empty box, sighing deeply before he begins the walk back to his station.

“They were up on a high shelf huh? Had to find a ladder?” You joke, poking fun at the fact he took longer than expected.

“Oh yeah. Had to call the fire department actually. Like when there’s a cat stuck in a tree.” He quips back with a laugh, sitting down and letting his chair roll closer to you.

He rubs the cleaning solution away and beams at his work. He may have taken longer than he needed, but damn if you didn’t get an insanely detailed snake piece. He grabs a package of Saniderm from his cart and peels the backing off, slowly applying it to the raw skin. “Leave this on for like two or three days, you can shower in it, sleep in it, the whole nine yards. It’ll start lifting and you’ll know it’s time to take it off.”

“Hmm.. Alex always uses plastic wrap.” You say questioningly, peering down at the clear bandage.

“That’s because she’s old.” He says matter of factly, peeling his gloves off and tossing them in the trash.

“She’s 35!” You chuckle and smack his shoulder.

“Yeah… old.” He replies as he fishes into his pocket. “Gotta get a picture of this, it turned out so sick.” He pulls his phone out and opens his camera, zooming in until he has the right angle and snapping a photo.

“Don’t post that, I bet I look busted.” You whine, sitting up and stretching your back.

“Well sweetheart, your face isn’t in the picture. But for the record, I think you look pretty good for a girl who just got a metric fuck ton of ink shoved into her collarbone with a needle.” He says as he shoves his phone back into his pocket.

Your breath hitches inaudibly in your throat, heat lapping at your cheeks.

I have to play it cool. He didn’t call me pretty. He’s saying I took the tattoo well, that’s all.

“Thanks, Matt.” You smile, throwing your legs off the table and letting your feet hit the floor.

“After you.” He gestures his arm out as he stands, knowing he has to take the opportunity to walk behind you this time.

You sling your bag over your shoulder and walk down the hallway, feeling his eyes bore into the back of your head the entire way.

Except his eyes bore into everything he missed out on earlier. Your toned, smooth calves and up to your plush thighs that wiggle as you walk. The curve of your ass in your shorts. The way your hips sway with each step, taunting his still half-hard member.

You reach the front desk and peek into the mirror on the wall to the left of it, admiring the fresh ink. You can’t stop ogling at it as he prints out a receipt, walking up to the register and silently watching you. You turn your head to him and mumble an “oops”, stepping back to the center of the desk and grabbing the receipt from him. “Only $120?” You exclaim, widening your eyes as you look up to him.

He gives you a light nod and a shrug, brushing his hand through his fluffy waves. “You took it like a champ. Plus, I know you’ll be back. Gotta give that recurring customer discount, right?”

You know your cheeks are fire engine red at this point as you dig for your wallet, feeling as if you’re taking too long.

Am I being crazy or is that flirting? He’s flirting, right?

You open your wallet and dig out the cash, adding a generous tip to the stack before you hand it over. “I really appreciate it, Matt.”

“Not a problem. You have my number if you need anything else.” He returns as he sorts the cash into the register. He flicks his eyes back up and meets yours, a brief, almost-too-long moment of eye contact held between you two.

You blink hard a few times before clearing your throat and nodding, stepping back from the counter. “You got it. Thanks again.”

You turn on your feet and head for the door, pushing it open while your brain spins with thoughts of your encounter.

What the fuck was that?

—————

authors note: part two??? lmk 😈😈😈

taglist: @solarsturniolo @lustfulslxt @whotfisade @soursturniolo @recklesssturniolo @worldlxvlys @chrisolivia4l @kiarastromboli @mattnchrisworld @cupidsword @kvtie444 @xplrfear @knowingnothingnoel @karlybbx @chrisfavoritepepsi @mwah0mwah @starsturniolo @christinarowie332 @fionaheartswomen @angelic-sturniolos111 @mqttittude @sturniolowhore @luv4kozume

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multi-kpop-fanfics · 7 months

Text

the kraken's girl

pairing: alien!Seungcheol x fem!reader

genre: smut, mild fluff and mild comedy. minors dni.

warnings: monsterfucking, tentacles, manhandling, unprotected sex (pls stay safe), double penetration, male masturbation, oral sex (f rec), dirty talk, multiple creampies, brat!reader, switch!cheol, exhibitionism

word count: 3.4k

summary: neither you nor seungcheol expected to blow up twitter after your sex-nanigans. but that didn't stop you from meeting up again.

Author's note: happy halloween beloveds! this is the next installment of Vodka Slime. major thanks to @gyuwoncheol and @smileysuh for proofreading and screaming in my draft loves🥰

disclaimer: the twitter usernames used in the fic were randomly picked, any resemblance with real twitter usernames is 100% coincidental.

Fifty thousand followers. Fifty fucking thousand new people followed your Twitter account within a single night, all thanks to the two minute clip you uploaded before falling asleep.

Your head is spinning with shock and excitement, arousal coursing through your body as you read the retweets one by one.

“GIRL WHO IS THIS”

“monster cock at its FINEST”

“me when me when me WHEN”

“eating a brick wall as we speak”

“i’ve never felt more submissive and breedable in my life before”

You giggle every time you scroll down, biting your thumbnail and kicking your feet like a kid who did something naughty. Although you’re not a kid anymore, your tendencies are definitely on the naughty side.

As if on cue, you receive a message from Seungcheol, who also retweeted your post on his account.

cherry_csc: we really caused a ruckus huh

You rapidly type back.

prettylilfreak: ikr ppl were STOKED

You receive another message from him.

cherry_csc: we can always make another one yk?

cherry_csc: if you’re down i’m down too

You rub your thighs at the thought of fucking Seungcheol (and his tentacles) again, but this time, you’re not 100% sure about filming it.

prettylilfreak: why don’t we discuss it over brunch? i know a place that makes mean choco waffles

prettylilfreak: unless aliens are allergic to waffles or smth

cherry_csc: if i told you i have never eaten waffles before would you believe me?

prettylilfreak: i’ve seen worse from you tbh

cherry_csc: ok fair point

cherry_csc: send me the address and the date, i’ll be there

prettylilfreak: cool, see you soon <3

You search for the restaurant and book a table for two, sending the info of the reservation to Seungcheol a few seconds later. You close your phone and let it plop down next to your pillow. You lay flat on your bed with a stupid grin on your face, your insides still squelching with need.

You turn your head towards your nightstand and open the last drawer where you keep all of your toys.

Just a quick one won’t hurt, you think and grab the tentacle-shaped dildo, licking your lips.

If only it was as good as the real thing.

“Damn, these waffles are really amazing.” Seungcheol gulps down a hefty bite of his choco waffles.

“I told you so! They are delicious.” You mirror his actions.

“Although I think you taste better than the waffles.” He sends you a wink and you nearly choke on your food.

“Damn, no need to die from waffles!” He passes you a glass of water and you drink it all in one go.

“And there was no need to spit out stuff like that without warning!” You try to clear your throat.

“Sorry, that wasn’t my intention.” He rubs his neck awkwardly.

“Waffles and choking aside, I think we should pick up the conversation from where we left it off.”

“You mean the Twitter DMs? Sure, I’m all ears.” Seungcheol wipes his lips with a paper towel.

“So, about that….I must admit that I had one hell of a time with you that night, and…”

“And?”

“And I definitely wouldn’t mind if we repeated it.”

Seungcheol licks his bottom lip seductively.

“But I have a condition.”

“Name it.”

“I don’t want to film anything for my account.”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Oh. I certainly didn’t expect that.”

“Are you disappointed?” You toy with your fingers.

“What? No, of course not! It’s your account after all, you’re calling the shots in the end.” He reassures you. “Can I ask why though?”

“Let’s just say that I want to….experiment with you.” You rest your face between your palms.

“Experiment? What are you, a NASA researcher?”

“No, but you left some unanswered questions and I want answers.”

“Oh, so that’s what it is about.”

You smack your lips. “I’m glad you catch on quickly, it saves me a lot of talking.”

“You need to clarify some things first, sweetheart.”

“I’m not so sure about that, Seungcheol.”

“I beg to differ, doll.” He purrs the petname on purpose and you feel a chill running down your spine.

You stuff your mouth with more waffles, chomping on them like a starved animal to avoid answering to Seungcheol.

“You’re so stubborn, but I guess that’s part of your charm.” He plays with his bottom lip as he watches the cutlery in your hands move with light speed.

“Eat as much as you can, doll. You’re gonna need a lot of energy for later.”

The fork and knife fall from your hands and clack on the plate as you try your best to swallow the bite in your mouth.

“You….need to be restrained.” You point your finger towards his face in a menacing way.

“Hmm, I can think of a way.”

“What is that supposed to mean?!”

“You can always fuck around and find out.”

You stare at the smirking man in front of you, contemplating his indirect proposal.

“You motherfucker.”

“How the fuck do you afford an apartment like this?!” You yell as soon as you enter Seungcheol’s home.

“I might be an alien, but I’ve been on Earth for over a decade. I think it’s enough time to learn how to make money.” He replies as he takes off his shoes and jacket.

“I don’t think I want to indulge my curiosity about your personal life right now…” You mutter.

“I know you don’t, Y/N.” He grips your thighs and puts your legs around his waist, carrying you like this all the way to the bedroom.

“I guess your tentacles and cock aren’t the only strong parts of your body.” You grip his shoulders as he carefully lays you down on the double-sized bed.

“Not to brag, but I spend a lot of hours at the gym to keep myself in that shape.” He grins and rolls his hips against your crotch.

You suck a harsh breath through your teeth. “If you do this one more time, I swear to God I won’t be able to hold back.”

“That’s okay, doll. That’s why I’m here - To keep you in check.”

Seungcheol frees himself from the iron grip of your legs and straightens his back. You feel slightly intimidated by his muscular build, but the intimidation molds into heady arousal when he discards his clothes one by one, until he’s utterly naked.

“Your turn, baby. Take them off.”

“And what if I don’t want to?” You taunt him.

His voice grows stern. “Take off your clothes or I will rip them to shreds.”

You swallow thickly and take off your t-shirt, followed by your jeans. Your hands shyly creep behind your back and they toy with the clasp of your bra.

“There’s no need to be shy with me, Y/N.” Seungcheol kneels on the bed and cages your legs with his muscular thighs. “Now, take off the bra like a good girl.”

You exhale shakily and unclasp your bra, you slide the straps off your shoulders and remove it from your body, your nipples perking up.

“Perfect. So fucking perfect.” Seungcheol mutters before he pushes you towards the headboard and climbs on top of you.

“Don’t you want me to take off my panties?” You ask.

“Not yet, sweetheart.”

“Don’t you want to slide your big, mean cock inside my pussy, Cheol?” You pout your lips on purpose and roll your clothed pussy against his naked shaft.

“I don’t think it’s going to happen today, doll.”

“What? Are you kidding me? Then why the f-”

Seungcheol shushes you with his finger on your lips. “I’ll make it all worth it, I promise. Now, I want you to sit across the headboard. Can you do that for me?”

“You better keep your promise, otherwise I’ll block you from my socials!” You crawl on the other edge of the bed with a grumpy look on your face.

Seungcheol gets comfortable against the headboard. “This is barely our second time together, but I don’t plan on dumping you, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes. “The way I’ve heard the last part so many times from other men.”

“First of all, I am not a feeble human, even if I have human appearance. And most importantly…” His tentacles appear from his back and slide around his thighs.

“No man would ever do the things I’m about to show you.”

“That sounds pretty ambitious to me, Cheol.”

“I am ambitious, doll. And meeting like-minded people strengthens my own ambitions.”

You flash a sultry smirk. "Good to know we're on the same page."

The tentacles keep gliding over Seungcheol's body, leaving a slimy trail on his skin.

"Remember when you asked me about my tentacles spitting stuff?"

"I do. And what about it?"

"Watch and you'll find out, doll."

You nearly gasp when two thick tentacles wrap around Seungcheol's thighs and hold them apart, exactly the same way your thighs were spread.

But he doesn't stop there.

Another tentacle binds his wrists above his head, rendering him completely helpless and exposed.

"Sheesh, didn't know you had an exhibitionism kink going on, Cheol." You rub your thighs together.

"I've never done this before, so consider yourself lucky."

"You've never jerked yourself before?"

"More like I've never used additional help to jerk off before."

Two more tentacles appear in front of him, one morphing into a literal fleshlight and the other approaching his rim dangerously.

"Are you sure you wanna do this, Cheol?"

"One fucking hundred percent, doll."

The fleshlight engulfs Seungcheol's cock completely and the other tentacle slides into his hole simultaneously, making him cry out in pleasure.

"H-Hah, ah, f-fuh…."

"Shit, Cheol, that's-"

"Nothing I cannot handle, s-sweetheart."

He bites his bottom lip when the fleshlight starts sucking his cock and the other appendage thrusts in his ass rather strongly.

You never expected him to pull off this stunt and truth be told, it has you soaking through your panties and clenching around emptiness.

He's struggling to keep his eyes open from how good his own tentacles are making him feel - sweat has started to form on his forehead and neck, his skin turning glossy.

"Does it feel that good?" You ask him, rubbing your thighs together.

"Stop pretending to be sympathetic, I know you enjoy w-watching me like this." Seungcheol groans as he digs his nails into his palms. "But yeah, it f-feels good." His thighs jolt with each thrust and suck delivered by the tentacles occupying his sensitive spots.

You're certain the fabric of your panties has turned into second skin from how much you've soaked them and you haven't even been touched yet. This is the first time you're affected by a man to this degree and you almost feel embarrassed. Almost.

"Fuuuuck, that shit is so good." Seungcheol leans his head back and his puffy lips fall apart, deep moans filling the room with the same speed his tentacle is filling up his hole. The fleshlight picks up the pace and starts sucking his cock harder and his hips buck up, but the slimy restraints keep him down effectively.

"A-Are you cumming, Cheol?" You ask him, "Because I might do so, untouched."

"Don't you fucking dare." He growls at you for a split second, but his expression forms into one of pure bliss as he finally reaches his climax, loads of cum being milked from his cock.

You fist the sheets beside you and bite your bottom lip to suppress your whines as you watch Seungcheol lose control thanks to his own tentacles, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to calm down from his intense orgasm. The tentacle that was torturing his hole retracts slowly and your eyes fixate on the slimy residues all over his cock and ass. The restraints on his wrists and thighs disappear as well and his arms drop down on his sides with a loud groan.

Blond hair streaks are stuck on his forehead, sweat is dripping down his chest and his breaths are ragged and heavy.

But his gaze still lingers on you.

"That was….fucking insane."

"I take it you…. enjoyed the show, doll?"

You spread your legs and show him your drenched panties, a low whistle blowing from his lips. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I don’t want to sound greedy or anything but… I’m kind of suffering here.” You point towards your pussy and he gives you a lopsided smirk.

“I know you are. But worry not, the real fun starts now, Y/N.”

Seungcheol snaps his fingers and two tentacles attach themselves around your ankles, dragging you directly in front of him. You yelp when he puts his hands on your waist and he flips you over with little effort, propping your ass up and pushing your waist down.

He runs his hand from your waist to the curve of your ass. “Mmm, that’s a pretty arch you have, baby.”

He squeezes your flesh and gives it a sharp smack, a gasp echoing in the room. You wince away from him, but his hand on your waist keeps you in your place.

“Stop teasing me and fuck me already!” You whine in defeat.

“How do you want me to fuck you?”

“I don’t care! I just want you to fill me up until I can’t think straight anymore!” You shake your ass in an attempt to entice him.

“I can definitely do that, doll.” Seungcheol uses both hands to rip your panties apart and throw them on the floor. He pries your lips apart with his thumbs and hisses when your slick runs down from your entrance and glides on your clit.

“But I might have to get a taste of that pussy before fucking it.”

He catches your honey with the tip of his tongue right before it falls on the sheets and moans at the taste of it. He slowly rolls the tip around your bundle of nerves and you bite the sheets to muffle your noises.

“I want to hear your voice, Y/N. It’s unfair to hear it only through your twitter posts and not directly from you.” He actually begs you and it has you keeling over.

“What’s unfair is you trying to beg me to moan, when you know I can’t resist your pleas, Seungcheol.” You grumble, yet you push your ass closer to his face. “Now, I would like you to use your pretty mouth to- AH!”

Seungcheol grips your ass and smothers his face in your drenched cunt, his tongue rubbing your clit and his nose nudges your hole. You can feel the curves of his lips savoring your juices and you can hear the sloppy noises they create - pure music to your ears.

“So, mmfh, fucking delicious…” He purrs against your pussy, “Makes me wanna - umffh- keep you by my side forever.”

Your walls clench harder than before and so does your heart - but you choose to shove that piece of information in the back of your head. It’s a bit early for that, you think.

You let out a particularly whiny moan when he circles his tongue around your hole and he laughs when more of your slick gushes out, but this time, he lets it drip down on his lap.

“I don’t know what’s messier, my tentacles or your pussy?”

“S-Shut up!”

He slaps your ass. “Don’t talk back to me, doll.”

“Or what? You’re gonna rail me until I pass out?”

Seungcheol clicks his tongue in annoyance and musters the strength he has left in his thighs to climb on top of your body, as if he’s about to mount you. Your breath hitches in your throat when he plants one hand next to your head and uses the other to pull your head back.

“That is actually a wonderful idea, sweetheart.” His lips barely touch the shell of your ear, but his voice is enough to make your spine shudder.

You open your mouth to give him a snarky reply, but the oxygen is knocked out of your lungs when two of his tentacles fill up your ass and pussy without warning, fitting tighter than a glove. He lets go of your hair and cages your wrists with his hands, rendering you immovable.

“See what happens when you talk back to me, doll?”

“F-Fuck, s-so f-full….”

“Yeah? You have no idea how full you’re gonna be after I’m done with you.”

You can feel his cock resting on your ass and twitching with need.

"Remember when you asked me if my tentacles can spit stuff?"

"Y-Yeah?" You try to keep your brain intact, but the tentacles thrusting in your holes make it hard for you.

Seungcheol presses his lips right behind your ear and sucks on your earlobe. His voice has dropped to a mere whisper.

"They do and it's all mine."

Your eyes start fluttering when you feel his thick cock slide between your cheeks and fuck them as if he was really fucking your pussy - even if he somehow does it.

The tentacles ram you almost violently, the little suckers gliding against your walls. You're at Seungcheol's mercy, unable to move, unable to think and unable to form coherent sentences - just a pretty little toy for a hot alien and his slimy tentacles.

And you fucking love every single second of it.

"C-Cheollie, I wanna cum! Please!" You cry out, hands fisting the bedsheets.

"Yeah? You're close, sweetheart?"

"Fuck, I am!"

"Go on then, let go for me." He kisses your temple and fucks your asscheeks harder.

You finally cum and it hits you like a raging waterfall, your entire body shaking and trembling like an autumn leaf trying to stay on the tree before it's blown away.

"Hang in there, doll, we're almost t-there." Seungcheol's ragged breath fans over your cheekbone, his hands letting go of your wrists to grip your waist.

His tentacles come to a halt and throb inside you, pumping your holes full of his cum, until a few drops start slipping out.

Fresh tears run down your cheeks when the tentacles detach from your holes, wincing when the sticky mess flows out of you. Your moans are growing louder every time Seungcheol's pelvis slaps against the curve of your ass, his nails digging in your skin.

"Such a great fucking ass, all mine to fuck, ugh!" He throws his head back as he cums, splashing his load all over your back and ass, painting it white. He pumps his cock with his hand a few times before smacking the tip over your ass.

"Cheol…..I can't move…" You pout your lips tiredly.

"I know, baby, I know." He gets up and pats your head before disappearing from the room.

A few minutes later, he comes back with a clean towel and the feeling of the soft cotton wiping you clean from the sticky mess covering your back and private parts almost puts you to sleep.

"Hey, don't fall asleep yet, I need to actually wash you." Seungcheol gently rubs the towel over your spent holes.

"Will you carry me to the bathroom?"

He lets out a chuckle. "Well, it's not like I have any other choice, since you technically can't walk."

"I wonder whose fault is that, huh." You mumble against the mattress.

"I'm sorry, doll." Seungcheol swipes your hair away from your face, "Although I did enjoy fucking you dumb."

You support your upper half on your arms. "To be completely honest, I really enjoyed it - hell, I asked for it."

He catches your lips in a short yet gentle and sweet kiss, melting into his pillowy lips.

"We can always-"

"Repeat it?"

"No," Seungcheol picks you up in bridal style and carries you to the bathroom. "I mean, I would love to, but I would prefer to take you out on a proper date first."

"Oh? I didn't know aliens had romantic tendencies." You joke.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Y/N. And I'm pretty sure there are lots of things I don't know about you."

"Are you saying you actually want to get to know me better?"

"Yes. To put it with your words, I'd like to experiment with you."

You look away purposefully. "I might be a tough formula to crack."

He carefully puts you in the bathtub and kneels in front of you, his eyes meeting yours.

"Consider this challenge accepted, doll."

#svthub #scoups smut #seungcheol smut #svt scoups #choi seungcheol #svt smut #seventeen smut #seventeen #tw monsterfucking #tw tentacles

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luvfy0dor · 21 days

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“Please Don't Cry ♡⁠˖” BSD x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

Warnings; crying, Nikolais kinda an asshole

Description; The BSD men seeing you cry, whether it's their fault or not

A/n; hi guys :333 one more request until they're all finished!! It only took me 6 months to do what, 11? 12? I don't know, I'm really slow when it comes to reqs, so I'm sorry it took so long!! I've also decided not to change to a gray theme cuz I don't wanna feel like I'm copying anyone, maybe one day though!!

Osamu Dazai ★

• It's probably his fault in most cases, but for this scenario we'll assume it isn't. Your day has just progressively gotten worse, and you were at the point where any minor inconvenience or annoyance would set you off and make you cry.

ೃ⁀➷

You pushed open the door to your apartment that you shared with your boyfriend, bags in your hands ready to rip from the weight of the groceries inside. You huff and kick the door shut behind you, annoyed when it doesn't fully close and requires you to kick it one more time. You carry the bags to the kitchen counter and set them down rather aggressively, not minding the strength you put into roughly placing them on the surface while you turn to put them away and wait for your boyfriend to arrive home from work for once. You sigh with a hand on your hip and the other on your forehead, opening the fridge and observing your current minimal amount of food and get to stocking up. A few things make it into the fridge before you hear the door open again and your boyfriend call out to you. "Y/n? Home?" A hum erupts from your throat in response and he quickly makes his way to you, following the sound of your voice. "Hey, babe, how was your day?" He asks, grabbing a head of lettuce to hand to you. "Terrible, 'Samu, nothing tragic happened but like, all the little things, you know?" You say, shoving the head of lettuce into one of the bottom drawers of the refrigerator. He reaches over to grab the milk, but realized that the half-gallon wasn't completely full, and upon further investigation (lifting the jug up), he realized that the plastic had broken and milk was spilling out into the plastic bags, onto the counter, and down onto the floor.

"Oh, the milk broke." He says, taking a large, exaggerated step past you and over the milk to bring the half-gallon to the sink. You straighten your posture and stand up straight, head swiveling towards the counter with whiplash inducing speed. You felt your throat close up, making you unable to say anything in response. Before you knew it, your shoulders started shaking and your tears quickly followed that motion. You whimpered quietly into the palms of your hands which attracted Dazais attention again over the milk. "Aw, don't cry over spilled milk now!" He jokes, but when you give him an agitated glare and open your mouth to defend yourself, he switches up and pulls you in for a hug. "No, I was just joking, but it's okay! There's nothing to cry about, we can get more milk. Do you have any idea how it coulda happened?" He asks you, stroking your back. "M-might've put the bag down to roughly.." you say, sniffling and wiping your tears from your face. He gives a pitiful frown and kisses your cheek quickly.

"Well that just means you're too strong for your own good! Oo, see I knew there was a reason why I had to clarify I was joking, you could've broken my neck if I didn't." He playfully says, trying to cheer your up a little bit. You let out a shaky sigh and nod. "Yeah...I guess. We can go without milk for tonight, I'll get some more for tomorrow." You grab some paper towels from the roll on the counter and start cleaning up all the milk. He nods in agreement and pulls you into his body, pressing a kiss to your forehead and squeezing your shoulder. "Yeah, we'll live. We should get take out for dinner, I don't think either of us are really in the mood to cook." A little bit of weight is lifted off your shoulders, one less responsibility for tonight. "Okay, Chinese?" he nods and smiles. "Yeah. I'll call right now, you want your usual, right?" He asks, pulling his phone out of his pocket. You hum against his chest, ready to knock out and take a nap. His words blurred together as you felt yourself slipping into sleep, but with that you also felt great amounts of gratitude for your boyfriend for making you feel just a little better. Or maybe you just needed to cry a little, who knows.

Chuuya Nakahara ★

• Chuuya is no stranger to annoying co-workers and tiring missions, often wearing him down through the day, but sometimes he's unintentionally snappy. Don't worry, he's always quick to make it up to you.

ೃ⁀➷

Throughout the day, the texts between yourself and Chuuya had indicated that Chuuya was having a rather troublesome day, especially because of the frequent complaints followed by the facepalm emoji. You decided that you'd kick back with Chuuya and relax, opening a new bottle of one of his favorite wines and maybe giving him a back massage or something to relieve his stress. You eagerly awaited that familiar sound of his key in the door, and when you finally heard it, you stood up from your seat. In walked Chuuya, his appearance a little roughed up. He hung up his coat and hat without a word or glance to you, walking right passed you into the kitchen. 'That was kinda rude.' You thought to yourself, but you knew Chuuyas job was stressful and sometimes overwhelming, so you let him walk off on his own for a while. You knew where he was going and it didn't concern you, just to the balcony for a cigarette. You crossed your arms over you chest, hoping that he'd come back in a bit of a better mood. You turned on the TV and occupied yourself with that for a little bit before his familiar, light footsteps were heard coming back into the house. "Chuuya?" You called out to him. You could hear his loud sigh. "Yes?" His tone of voice was clearly agitated and disgruntled.

You were taken aback by how clear it was that he didn't want to talk to you right now, and you knew it wasn't personal, but you couldn't help but be saddened over it. "Are you alright-" you go to ask, but he quickly cuts you off. "Yes, I'm fine, y/n, just leave me alone. God..." His words were followed by the bedroom door closing. You were stunned. Your mouth hung agape for a moment before you had to close it to swallow the shock that closed your throat up. After prying your eyes away from the closed door, you averted your gaze to your feet, feeling tears well up in your eyes. You felt bad for crying, but what could you do? All you wanted was to make him feel a little better and he wouldn't even give you the chance to. He chose to take some alone time instead, which you didn't mind, but he didn't have to be so mean about it. You went into your hands, some of the tears falling through the cracks in your fingers and silently onto the floor. Your sobs became louder and audible to Chuuya, who laid face first on the bed. He felt a bit guilty too, he never once asked how your day was and for all he knew, your day could have been just as bad as his. He knew you only had good intentions, and he didn't need to shove you off like that.

He sighed and got out of bed, opening the door gently instead of swinging it open and walked into the living room again, frowning at the sight of you. "I'm sorry, doll, y'know I didn't mean it..." He whispered quietly, placing a hand on your shoulder. You turned your head to look into his eyes, seeing the apologetic expression that painted his face. "Yeah, I know, but you didn't have to be so mean about it." He sighed and pulled you into a hug. "Yeah, I know, that was a dumb move. I just wanted some alone time, ill be better about it next time though, I promise." He says, grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles. "Wanna tell me 'bout your day?" He asks, looking over at you. "Thank you. It wasn't terrible, just bland and regular." You tell him, erupting a hum of understanding from him. "I can only assume you already know I had a rough day." He jokes, trying to lighten the mood. "I'm real sorry though." The smile from his laugh turns into a more neutral one, almost a faint frown. "It's fine, just don't let it happen again, I don't like it when you're annoying like that." You punch his shoulder playfully. He groans in response, laughing as he stands up. "I won't, promise." He says, tilting your head backwards to kiss your lips. "I do still want that alone time, though, so I'll see you in a little bit, alright?" You nod in understanding. "Alright." He walked back into the room, giving himself some time to do nothing more than exist. He didn't sleep and he didn't think, just existed. You stayed on the couch, waiting for him to return with open arms, happy to see him giving himself personal time instead of forcing himself to be around people, even if it was yourself. Everyone needs a break sometimes, and Chuuya was grateful that you understood.

Fyodor Dostoevsky ★

• Fyodor came home to you, and that was enough to make you sob your eyes out. Happy tears, ofcourse, but your days had been riddled with anxiety since he left. He knew you'd feel that way, and he was fully prepared to open his arms to you again with that faint smile.

ೃ⁀➷

You watched the helicopter land on the helipad with your heart pounding in your throat. Your fingers fiddled with the collar and fabric of your shirt as you waited for the propellers to come to a full halt and your lover to step off. Leaves, gravel, and dust alike all blew around your feet as the blades finally slowed and your boyfriend came into view. Your body tensed and almost started moving towards him on its own, but your anxiety stopped it, keeping you in your place. Your eyes scanned over his intact body and granted you a sense of relief when you saw no visible large injuries. He took notice of you and gave a small wave, walking towards you with a steady pace. You couldn't stop it anymore and all of a sudden you were moving towards him at an increasing speed. Before you knew it, your arms were once in their familiar spot around his torso and he was quietly chuckling. He ran one hand up and down your back and kissed your forehead. "Someone's excited." You nodded, feeling your tears falling down your face. It wasn't until he got a better look at your face that he noticed you were crying, and his smile widened. "You missed me that much, Myshka?" He says, tilting your head upwards to look at him.

"Obviously! You knew I would." You huff, sniffling and wiping your tears off of your cheeks, but they just kept on flowing. He laughs at you and pulls you back into the hug. "Well i'm home now, and you don't have to worry about me anymore. For now, atleast." Now he's already got you stressing over his next leave, but luckily you're able to push it away from your head in the moment and be grateful to breathe in his familiar scent again. You felt him place a hand on your head and exhale, his heartbeat being your favorite sound next to his voice. The feeling of his hands on your body was easily #1 in the category of touch, and his appearance was, to you, the very best sight. And his kisses, his lips, were by far the best taste. It had been so long until you felt his lips on yours, so you went for it again, cupping his face with your right hand and pulling him into you. He hummed and kissed you back, rubbing your hip with his thumb. When you pulled away, his face was pinker than before and his breathing unsteady. He swallowed before speaking. "Everytime I come back to you it's like adding gasoline to the bonfire that is my love for you." He says, looking into your eyes.

You couldn't help but find his words as silly as they were romantic and pulled him in for another brief peck. "You talk so formally all the time, it makes me giggle." You tell him, caressing his pale pink lips with your thumb. "It's better than the things I say that make you cry, yes?" He had a point. "Very true." He grabbed your hand and held it in his own while leading you away from the helicopter and to your car, more than ready to go home. "Your face is still wet from your tears." He whispers, wiping the remaining dampness from your cheeks with a smile. "Much better." You blushed and nodded. "Yeah, I'm glad you're finally back to wipe my tears for me." You tease. "Was a workout doing it all by my lonesome." He laughs at your remark and 'tsks'. "Well then maybe you should get more active or stop crying so much." He replies, a smug grin on his face. "Says you, the only arm movement I ever see you getting in is moving the mouse of a keyboard around." He shakes his head. "That's very untrue, you see me using my arms for other things rather frequently, actually." He insists. The sun shone down on his raven hair and gave him a halo-like highlight. How unfitting to the rest of the world, but sensible to you. "Fine, I guess so." You leaned your head on his shoulder as you continued to walk, finally liberated from the depression and anxiety that overcame you when he had left all that time ago.

Nikolai Gogol ★

• Nikolai doesn't mean to hurt your feelings with his teasing and jokes, but when you trip and fall face first into the pavement in front of a bunch of people and all he does is laugh with them, you can't help but cry out of embarrassment.

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You walked along a sidewalk with your boyfriend, one hand holding his and the other holding a coffee. Your conversation was filled with mindless chatter as your stride stayed at a steady speed. Your eyes were flickering between him and the pavement in front of you as you were careful to watch where you were going. You saw the feet of many people walking passed you both, avoiding the states they were bound to give you and your clownish boyfriend. Something astonishing must have come out of Nikolais mouth at a point though, because you've never turned your head so fast to look at him and stare for long enough to not notice the tree roots that poked out of the ground far enough to trip you and land you right on your face with both coffee and dirt all over your shirt. All falls silent for a moment before you start hearing snickers and then the outrageously loud cackle of your boyfriend.

You pushed your body up off the ground, clearly embarrassed over the whole thing and shot a glare at Nikolai. "Really? You're just gonna stand there and laugh?" Your cheeks were hot and your heart heavy with both annoyance and fluster. "I'm sorry, dove, it was just so funny! That stains gonna take awhile to come out, though." He says, pointing out the big splatter of coffee on your light colored top. You can't help but scoff. "It was so funny that you couldn't even help me up?" He nods, exhaling audibly and wiping a tear of amusement from his eye. "But ofcourse! If I wasn't paralyzed by my laughter than I would have been the first to help you." He started walking back home along the paved path with you, going to grab your hand but furrowing his eyebrows when you snatch it away. He looks up to your face with an exasperated frown. "Oh, don't tell me that made you cry." You just sniffle and huff, letting your tears drip from your waterline. "Come on, don't be such a baby. It's just a material item, I can always get you a new one." He says, referring to the shirt. Your expression is one of confusion before you snap out of it and correct him. "It's not that, it's the fact that you just let me trip, fall, and spill coffee all over myself and let everyone laugh at me! You even laughed with them! That's so rude." You say, trying to cover the stain to no avail.

He blinks. "Oh. Well, I told you I would have if I wasn't laughing- I thought we were like that, we laugh when the other falls, you know?" He raises an eyebrow. "Okay, yeah, but not in front of other people." You say, chewing on the inside of your lip. "That was....oh my god, I'll never erase that from my memory." You say, still completely overtaken by embarrassment. He bites his cheek and grabs your hand before reaching over to wipe your tears from your cheeks. "I'm sorry." He tells you, leaning his head on yours. "It wasn't ever with ill intention, darling. We'll go home and I'll get you changed out of that ruined shirt and whatever it takes to make you smile again." He says, smiling and opening his portal to whisk the two of you away. Soon enough you were standing back in your living room with a new shirt already in hand. "See how quick that was? Can I take this off for you?" He asks, tugging at the hem of your ruined shirt. You sigh and speak. "I can take it off on my own, thank you very much." You roll your eyes and pull it off, but it's quickly replaced with the new one. He laughs for a moment at your discombobulated expression, but the noise quickly quiets. "I really am sorry, sweetcheeks." He says, leaning in to rub your noses together. You peck his lips and brush his hair from his face. "It's fine, but don't be doing nothin' like that again. That was so embarrassing." You say, averting your eyes. He hums. "Alright, as long as my dove forgives me!" He smiles and pulls you into a hug, happy with your decision to forgive him.

A/n; dawg I'm writing this in the tj Maxx bro forgive me if it sucks lol

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