• imagines, fanfiction, one-shots and drabbles reuploaded from my tumblr and ao3 @p1nkcanoe
!! CONTAINS MOSTLY SMUT AND OTHER NSFW, TREAD CAREFULLY
right now I'm writing for:
• ghost characters and personas
• ghouls
• papas
• reader inserts
!! I d...
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dew x ghoulettes smut !! forced feminization, vaginal sex, oral sex, crying, makeup, nipple play, pegging, use of sex toys, hair pulling, praise, minor breath play
No matter how much Dew scrubs and scrubs at the black covering his lashes he can't get it off. It won't flake when he grinds his fingers over it and he's already dunked his entire face into the sink in hopes it'll somehow melt off. It doesn't. His eyes are beginning to become irritated and red from the amount of soap he's rubbing into his skin. The area around his eyes is an angry red and the membrane of his waterline is starting to sting from bubbles not quite washed away. He's already gotten some in his eye and a half empty bottle of lotion paid the price for that one on his behalf.
This is bullshit.
It happens almost every time he sleeps past noon–which isn't uncommon–but usually he's able to scrub off whatever cosmetic product the ghoulettes have painted him with before having to face the rest of his packmates. This mascara in particular must be laced with magick or something, because it doesn't even smudge when he takes a knuckle to it so rough that he sees constellations behind his lid. His lashes are curled upwards towards his brow and they're thick and dark with whatever cosmetic slime they painted him with. Upon further inspection it appears that they've managed to curl the front pieces of his hair as well without him knowing. He pulls at it until it's straight and lets go. It bounces right back up into its bouncy and beachy wave that frames his face and manages to direct more attention to his eyes. When he snarls at his reflection with teeth and fang, it snarls right back. He looks like a girl.
"What the fuck..."
He growls, guttural in his throat, and rips the white hand towel from its hook, burying his face in it and dragging it back and forth over his angry skin until it stings. He needs it off. Now. When he pulls it back it's as clean as it was before, just damp. The towel gets thrown to the floor beside the bottle of lotion and becomes an afterthought the second he storms out of his room and into the common room. Not to his surprise, the majority of his pack is gathered together with cups of mid-day tea in their palms and some sandwich from the dining hall that looks like it's drowning in salami and pesto. He hates pesto...
"Good morning Firefly– oh."
Rain giggles, covers his mouth with his hand. Dew's skin burns red hot. He throws up a finger at Swiss when he mutters something along the lines of a princess rising from her slumber or something dumb like that followed by a chorus of catcalls and whistles. Sunshine stands at the kitchen counter, dunking a tea bag into a cerulean mug. The fire ghoul saddles up right in front of her and pushes a finger into the center of her chest. He's only wearing his boxers–the ones with little pink hearts on them. The look he gets in return is humorous.
"Get this shit off of me," he growls and motions to his eyes with an open palm. "Now."
The multi-ghoul chuckles, raises her brows in disbelief. She brings her steaming mug to her lips and takes a sip, placing it carefully back down on the counter behind her when she's done. Dew feels like shoving it to the floor but he'd surely have to deal with the repercussions later on. Rain loves that mug...
