#I found his paintings on Pinterest and I LOVE

[buildoblivion]

🟩⬛️ queens ⬛️🟩

[almondcroissantsandink]

l'adorazione di Morticia Addams

[theystation]

101 by Sirinne

Me when I need ibuprofen ASAP

[pencil-n-pen]

SUDDENLY I HAD A VALENTINE

𓏲𝄢 ⋆. ୨୧ ˚⋆ 𓏲𝄢

post prison!spencer x hopeless romantic! civilian!reader

masterlist | kofi

i’ve rejected affection for years and years, now I have it, and damnit, it’s kind of weird

Valentine, Laufey

summary: spencer reid isn’t a genius or renowned criminal profiler- he’s just the guy who frequents the same coffee shop you do; the guy you’re probably, maybe, a little bit in love with. But you’re not the kind of girl guys like him like— right?

cw: honestly genuinely cannot think of any this one is just soft and sweet (with a touch of angst bc it’s me)

tags/tropes: strangers to lovers, spencer is so whipped, reader is a hopeless romantic, spencer finds this cute, romance novel references (i have read a LOT of them), no colleen hoover jumpscares, however there are of ali hazelwood references bc Love Theoretically is my favorite romance book of all time

a/n: something short and sweet !! trying to get over my perfectionism by just posting <3

title taken from Valentine by Laufey (GO LISTEN TO LAUFEY)

𓏲𝄢

There’s a coffee shop within a twenty minute walk from your apartment that you like to go to. It’s more a cafe, really. They’ve got a little case with a small selection of pastries and such, as well as a nice, calm little atmosphere. Cozy.

You’d decided that you wanted to read more. You’d always enjoyed it, before—

Before. And now that you have more free time on your hands, you’d thought “what better time for some good old fashioned escapism?”

Your tbr pile was a mile long and you’d found the coffee shop and it seemed like a perfect little scenario.

That was probably about a year ago. Things are different now. Not in a bad way, just the way that things change as time goes on. You’d ended up moving apartments- somewhere smaller, but you’d gained a window that overlooks the street, so win, you’d switched jobs —you work from home now— and you’d kept your nose firmly away from any and all real life romantic endeavors.

Almost all of your friends you’d met through your ex. The unfortunate thing about that is when you broke up, they were more attached to him than you, so things got a little… lonely. You have other friends, of course, but most of them have busy lives— boyfriends, husbands, kids, successful jobs, travel. You text them when you can, hang out when they’re available, but you spend most of your day, everyday alone.

You’d struggled a lot, at first. But then you take a page out of all of your books: romanticize a quiet life.

You’d stared at your empty apartment, your new desk set up for your job and decided to romanticize the shit out of your new life.

It was slow going at first. You didn’t really know how to get started, what you wanted your life to look like, so the first few months were spent primarily on Pinterest. But ideas formed, plans were made, rooms were carefully designed and days were quietly spent.

Which leads you to where you are now: a mostly lone woman leading her ideal, romanticized life. Romance books, working from home, coffee shops and thrifted sweaters and everything on your Pinterest board. You’d picked up (and dropped) several hobbies, everything from scrapbook journaling to watercolor painting to simple embroidery and sewing. You adore the lopsided and ugly-cute DIY Jellycat rabbit (appropriately named Elizabeth Bennet.)

It’d taken a year, but you felt safe and comfortable again. And throughout this entire process, you still managed to avoid or kill any attraction you’ve had for any passing man.

Except Spencer, or as you’ve dubbed him in your head, Hot Coffee Shop Guy.

You only know his name because the barista’s call it out when he takes his coffee to go, which he doesn’t always do. Sometimes he takes his coffee or tea in the cafe, sits at the same table in the far corner (almost directly across from you, as you like to sit right next to the large windows at the front of the cafe) and read.

You and him read very different books. Sometimes he reads large, thick textbooks. Sometimes he reads dusty old books. Sometimes the things he reads aren’t even in English. A very stark contrast to your fine readings of Ali Hazelwood, Elsie Silver, and Anna Huang.

Ever since you can remember, you’ve had a thing for guys who read. Not casual reading, but reading-reading. And you can’t help but think you compliment each other in aesthetic— you with your brightly colored romance books and cozy clothes, soft and cute in that way that screams “I listen to Laufey”, and him with his old books and faint smell of pine and his button downs and grandpa cardigans, looking like he listens to Tchaikovsky and The Swan by Camille Saint-Saëns.

And it���s kind of fun to daydream about. You’d never act on it, of course, guys who look as hot as him don’t seriously go for girls like you, but it’s easy to read The Love Hypothesis and imagine yourself as Olive and him as Adam.

And then he starts saying hi.

Which, okay, admittedly, is not much. But besides the barista’s —whom he’s come to recognize and strike up conversations with— you’re the only person in the cafe he says hi too. Even though there are other regulars he no doubt recognizes.

Even when he takes his coffee to go, he gives you a little wave. It’s become your thing. A “hello” if he stays and a wave if he goes.

It’s a nice little thing to have, is the problem. Who doesn’t want a jaw-droppingly hot man to make time out of his day to say hi to you specifically?

But it won’t go anywhere. Even if you hadn’t sworn off love until you’re in your mid-thirties, you’d be too shy to actually do anything about it.

You’ve seen how this goes down. He waves, you smile, you work your way up to going up to him, and he either has a girlfriend or isn’t interested. And even if, for some reason he is interested, he won’t stay interested.

So there isn’t a point to entertaining it, but you still do.

It’s fun. A little change in routine. A star-burst of excitement in your usual unchanging schedule.

—

Apparently, just because you’ve sworn off romance, doesn’t mean the universe has sworn off romance for you.

You’re at the cafe as usual, book in front of you and scrapbook behind your coffee. You’re considering making a coffee ring stain page, but you’re worried about mold and the possibility of it ruining other pages.

It’s late evening, the usual time Spencer comes in, and you’d preemptively ordered a ham and swiss croissant because you tend to end up too self conscious to get up or move around too much when he sits down, which is stupid, because he isn’t even looking at you.

He walks in right after you sit back down from ordering, so you entertain yourself with Love On the Brain so you don’t catch yourself staring at the soft brown curls and light stubble on his jawline. It’s very addicting, staring at him. He just has one of those stupidly attractive faces that beg to be stared at.

Today, he offers you a little wave, dipping down to catch your vision and a little “good evening,” as he goes by.

Wow. A wave and a hello. He must be in a good mood.

One of the barista’s —Sarah, she has two cats— drops off your croissant and rushes away, a hand pressed to her mouth, which is odd. She usually lingers so she can show you new pictures of Tweedle Dee and Microwave (her two cat’s names, respectively.)

You look down at the plate and notice a little something sticking out under the croissant. It’s their business card, but it’s upside down, and something’s written on it.

You take the little piece of cardstock, carefully reading the words written in scrawling but strangely delicate handwriting:

You look really cute today.

-Spencer

Ho. Lee. Shit.

You stare at the card, reading it and reading it and reading it and reading it and reading it and then reading it one more time, just in case.

But the words don’t change.

You look up at him, face hot, and make eye contact with Spencer. Who’s looking right back at you, textbook open on the table in front of him and a small smirk on his face.

You look back down at the table.

See, you don’t really get flirted with often. Or ever, really. You’d grown up watching early 2000s rom-com’s and then started reading romance novels in late highschool, so the disappointing reality once you hit 20 that you’d never had a boyfriend and the most romance you experience is in your head was something you had to adjust to. You’d had crushes of course, but then never went anywhere. And the few times they did never ended well. Hence the total life makeover after you last break-up.

You’ve never really experienced cute romance. Nothing like looks across a cafe and notes passed by barista’s.

He doesn’t come over and strike up a conversation, which you’re thankful for. That would be too much. He goes back to his reading, and you press the note into the pages of your book and pretend to go back to yours.

You don’t end up doing much reading that day.

—

It becomes a new thing. The notes. He doesn’t write them all the time, and they don’t always come with whatever pastry you’ve ordered. Sometimes they’re tucked under your coffee on its saucer, sometimes he slips them silently onto your table. But you always tuck them into whatever book you’re reading, so the way it’s worked out is that there’s little pieces of Spencer spread throughout a good portion of the books you own.

I like your sweater.

I think that hairstyle suits you.

Maybe we should trade books one day. Any chance you can read French?

You always look so cozy in your little spot.

Have I ever told you I think you’re pretty? (Joking, I know I have, just wanted to say it again.)

You were right about those ham and swiss croissants.

How do you get your annotations to look so pretty?

I like it when you smile.

It’s a lot. It’s tempting.

The little notes and his smile have (pathetically easily) wormed their way into your affection. You’re both afraid to get more and unwilling to go back to your normal life. You should, by all means. Appreciate the notes and then let this entire thing sail right on by.

So you do exactly what you always do when something like this happens. Consult your friends.

“He’s been giving you notes?” Penelope gasps, hand on her chest, “Hot coffee shop guy has been giving you notes, flirty notes and you’ve haven’t given him a single one?”

“I’m nervous!” You exclaim, face hot. “There are so many ways this could go wrong, and not just romantically. What if I take off the rose colored glasses and there’s this… this person who isn’t at all like I thought he’d be?”

Her expression gets a little sad at your words, and she reaches across the table to take your hand. “Okay, first of all, I have never known you to wear rose colored glasses. You’re a romantic, but you’re also too logical for that. Secondly, and I’m saying this because I love you, you need to get over yourself.”

You blink. “What?”

“No, really! You’ve concocted this entire, horrific scenario in your head about this guy who you haven’t even officially spoken to. You’re getting waaaaay ahead of yourself.”

“I know,” You look down at the cup of coffee you’ve been sipping on. Coffee at your apartment isn’t as exciting as coffee from the cafe, but Penelope wanted to hang at your place to catch up when you called her. “But I just keep thinking- what if the same thing happens again?”

She rolls her eyes, but the action is fond. “And what if it doesn’t? You’ve gotta try, babycakes. That’s what the whole romance thing is about. Taking the risk.”

“But risks are scary.” You whine.

“They are,” She says, laughing now, “But they’re also fun. I think you should give it a shot. At least hear the poor man out before you condemn him to being an axe murderer.”

“I don’t think he’s an axe murderer,” You say, “I think he might secretly be a self absorbed dick.”

“Trust me. I’m pretty sure in this case, the chances of that are pretty low.”

—

The next time you go to the cafe, Spencer is in fact there. So you push through your racing heart and sweaty palms and all the thoughts in your head that scream that is a bad idea and you take the little folded piece of paper and ask the barista to give it to him with his coffee.

Your deliberated over what to write in the note for a long time. Probably too long considering the fact that if this goes well, you’ll be writing more. But in the end, your favorite pen in hand, you’d written out a simple little:

Hi. I think your sweaters look really nice too. ♡

You’d felt like you were back in elementary school— giggling and passing notes. Unlike elementary school, though, the note passing doesn’t end in mild humiliation or heartbreak.

When he gets the note, he looks up at you, the same surprised expression on his face that you wore when you’d received his note the first time. Then, he looks down, reads it, and you get the honor of watching the most kissable blush spread across his cheeks as he readjusts his sweater.

It becomes your little thing. Your new little thing.

It’s easy to slip into, this cute little routine with Spencer.

Penelope has other thoughts on the matter.

“Sweetheart,” She says, and you can’t see her expression over the phone, but you can picture the set of her brows and the downturn of her lips, “I’m so glad you took that first scary leap and sent him a note back. But it’s been a month. Don’t you think it’s time to pick up the pace?”

“I’m taking it slow.” You say, voice half muffled by your scarf. It’s getting colder and colder and you wish the cold snap would just snap and snow already. If it’s going to be freezing, it might as well be freezing and pretty.

“No, you’re stalling. I swear to you, if I don’t hear about a date by the end of this week I’m going to go down there and ask him out for you.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that.”

“Exactly. Okay, I have to go. Love you bye!”

The dial tone sounds and you slide your phone into your pocket, further burying your face into your scarf.

You’re not really watching your surroundings as you approach the cafe, the walk too familiar, so when a hand larger than yours reaches for the door handle at the same time, you glance up in surprise.

“Sorry—“ Oh.

It’s Spencer.

He smiles at you, the same, really nice smile that you desperately want to kiss.

“Shame that our first official word together was ‘sorry’.”

You feel your face heat despite the chill outside. “Not true. I think it was actually hello.”

His smile widens. “Hello to you too.”

You blink. “Oh. Oh, I see what you did there.”

He nods to the door. “Do you want to head inside then? It’s a bit chilly out here.”

“Yeah,” A smile tugs at the corners of your lips. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

He opens the door. “After you.”

So maybe taking the first leap won’t be that scary after all.

[vetyr]

hi, i ireally love your work and i don't know if you've answered this before but, what kinds of studies do you do or how did you learn color theory? i wanna get better at rendering and anatomy but im having trouble TT TT

Hi! Long answer alert. Once a chatterbox, always a chatterbox.

When I started actively learning how to draw about 10 1/2 years ago, I exclusively did graphite studies in sketchbooks. Here's a few examples—I mostly stuck to doing line drawings to drill basic shapes/contours and proportions into my brain. The more rendered sketches helped me practice edge control & basic values, and they were REALLY good for learning the actual 3D structure behind what I was drawing.

I'd use reference images that I grabbed from fitness forums, Instagram, Tumblr, Pinterest, and some NSFW places, but you could find adequate ref material from figure drawing sites like Line of Action. LoA has refs for people (you can filter by clothed/unclothed, age, & gender), animals, expressions, hands/feet, and a few other useful things as well. Love them.

Learning how to render digitally was a similar story; it helped a lot that I had a pretty strong foundation for value/anatomy going in. I basically didn't touch color at all for ~2 years (except for a few attempts at bad digital or acrylic paint studies), which may not have been the best idea. I learned color from a lot of trial and error, honestly, and I'm pretty sure this process involved a lot of imitation—there were a number of digital/traditional painters whose styles I really wanted to emulate (notably their edge control, color choices, value distributions, and shape design), so I kiiind of did a mixture of that + my own experimentation.

For example, I really found Benjamin Björklund's style appealing, especially his softened/lost edges & vibrant pops of saturated color, so here's a study I did from some photograph that I'm *pretty* sure was painted with him in mind.

Learning how to detail was definitely a slow process, and like all the aforementioned things (anatomy/color/edge control/values/etc.) I'm still figuring it out. Focusing on edge control first (that is, deciding on where to place hard/soft edges for emphasizing/de-emphasizing certain areas of the image) is super useful, because you can honestly fool a viewer into thinking there's more detail in a piece than there actually is if you're very economical about where you place your hard edges.

The most important part, to me, is probably just doing this stuff over and over again. You're likely not going to see improvement in a few weeks or even a few months, so don't fret about not getting the exact results you want and just keep studying + making art. I like to think about learning art as a process where you *need* to fail and make crappy art/studies—there's literally no way around it—so you might as well fail right now. See, by making bad art you're actually moving forward—isn't that a fun prospect!!

It's useful to have a folder with art you admire, especially if you can dissect the pieces and understand why you like them so much. You can study those aspects (like, you can redraw or repaint that person's work) and break down whether this is art that you just like to look at, or if it's the kind of art that you want to *make.* There's a LOT of art out there that I love looking at, probably tens of thousands of styles/mediums, but there's a very narrow range that I want to make myself.

I've mentioned it in some ask reply in the past, but I really do think looking at other artist's work is such a cheat code for improving your own skills—the other artist does the work to filter reality/ideas for you, and this sort of allows you to contact the subject matter more directly. I can think of so many examples where an artist I admired exaggerated, like, the way sunlight rested on a face and created that orange fringe around its edge, or the greys/dull blues in a wheat field, or the bright indigo in a cast shadow, or the red along the outside of a person's eye, and it just clicked for me that this was a very available & observable aspect of reality, which had up until that point gone completely unnoticed! If you're really perceptive about the art you look at, it's shocking how much it can teach you about how to see the world (in this particular case I mean this literally, in that the art I looked at fully changed the way I visually processed the world, but of course it has had a strong effect on my worldviews/relationships/beliefs).

Thanks so much for sending in a question (& for reading, if you got this far)! I read every single ask I receive, including the kind words & compliments, which I genuinely always appreciate. Best of luck with learning, my friend :)

[mashtatosworld]

calm in the chaos

summary: you give birth to your first baby

You should have known when Jiyong walked into the room with a beret perched on his head and a set of fine paintbrushes in the other, that today was not going to go as planned.

You had thought you were going to start painting the nursery.

You had been excited, even, having selected a range of pink shades together weeks ago. You’d imagined the two of you working side by side, getting messy with paint, making this space a home for your little girl.

But instead, you found yourself sitting on the nursery floor, your maternity dress rolled up over your stomach, as your husband carefully dragged a paintbrush across your swollen belly.

You sighed, watching him dip the brush into a soft pastel colour before sweeping it over your skin. "Ji, why are we doing this again?"

He didn’t even look up, his lips pursed in deep concentration. “She gives me inspiration.”

You arched a brow. "She?"

“Our baby,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I’m waiting for her to tell me how she wants the room painted."

You blinked. "You don’t know what colour you want the nursery to be?"

He had a vision board, a Pinterest board and even hired interior designers to help plan the nursery. But in the end, the two of you went to the store and picked out your favourite swatches of pregnancy safe paint - of which he was now painting on your stomach.

“I thought I did," he admitted, sticking a tiny flower to your belly, right where he had just painted. "But then I realised, I should wait for her input."

You stared at him, bewildered. "She’s going to decide?"

He nodded sagely. "Of course."

You sighed again, shaking your head. "And how exactly is she going to do that?"

At that exact moment, a small but firm kick pressed against your stomach, right where he had been painting.

Jiyong grinned, eyes wide with excitement. "Ahhh, see? She’s choosing!"

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Or maybe she’s just done with you poking her all the time.”

He ignored your teasing, his expression turning softer, more thoughtful. He ran a hand gently over your stomach, his wedding ring cold against your skin as it grazed the painted surface.

"I feel so connected to her already," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your belly. "I think she’s going to share my artistic vision but have your beauty." His eyes flicked up to you, filled with so much love it made your breath catch. "She’s so lucky."

Your heart melted, and you reached out to touch him, feeling closer than ever. "We’re the lucky ones, Ji."

He smiled, rubbing a hand over your belly again before picking up another flower petal and sticking it carefully to your skin.

After a few more strokes of paint and some deep, artistic pondering on Jiyong’s end, you finally asked, "So… now that she’s chosen the colour, can we start painting the nursery?"

Jiyong froze, slowly pursing his lips. His expression instantly shifted from serene to guilty.

You narrowed your eyes. "Jiyong."

He cleared his throat. "Well… we could… but, you know, it's a lot of labour, and - "

"Ji."

"And you're pregnant, and I just - ”

"Ji."

"I don’t want you moving around too much!" he finally blurted, eyes pleading. "It’s not safe!"

You stared at him, incredulous. "That’s why you’ve been delaying? Because you don’t want me painting?"

He nodded quickly. “I mean, you are involved! You’re growing our princess!”

You threw your hands in the air. "Jiyong, come on. I want to help. I’m not going to break!"

He hesitated, clearly torn between his need to protect you and his desire to make you happy. After a long pause, he finally sighed in defeat.

“Fine.”

"Thank you."

"But only sticking flowers to the wall," he warned. "No climbing ladders. No stretching. No actual painting. Just decorating."

You rolled your eyes but took what you could get. "Deal."

He'd been like that your whole pregnancy.

You weren’t allowed to carry anything. Not a grocery bag, not the laundry, not even your own shoes if he was feeling particularly protective. The man had damn near wrestled a glass out of your hand once, insisting it was too full and too heavy - until you nearly bit his head off.

After that, he reluctantly allowed you to lift a drink or your phone. But everything else?

Off limits.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

An hour later, the nursery was transformed.

The walls were coated in the perfect shade of soft pink, the door dotted with tiny, delicate flowers. Jiyong had even painted a subtle mural on one wall - gentle brushstrokes forming a dreamy, almost ethereal heart. It was beautiful.

You both stood in the centre of the room, looking around in awe.

It suddenly felt real.

This wasn’t just a room anymore. This was your baby’s room. The space where you would rock her to sleep, where she would wake up every morning, where she would play and grow.

Jiyong took your hand in his, his grip warm and steady. He gave you a small, almost disbelieving smile. “This is really happening, huh?”

You squeezed his fingers. “Yeah.”

Briefly, you were pulled back to when you first met him. At the time, you'd been too afraid to even look him in the eyes. And yet now you would touch your stomach and wonder if your baby would have those same, curious eyes...

He pulled you into his arms, holding you close.

You closed your eyes, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.

The three of you - already a family.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

You should have known.

You should have known when Jiyong didn’t touch a single drop of alcohol all night - not even during Youngbae’s toast.

You should have known when he stayed practically glued to your side all night, his hand permanently resting on your belly like some kind of monitor.

And you should have known when he kept looking at you with that knowing little smirk every time you shifted uncomfortably.

But you?

You were in denial.

Sure, there had been some cramping earlier that day, but that was normal at nine months pregnant. It was not the start of labour.

No way. Not tonight, of all nights. Not when you were supposed to be enjoying Youngbae’s big concert, surrounded by your closest friends.

So, you pushed through.

You swayed lightly in the VIP section, singing along with Hyorin. And you breathed through the discomfort when Jiyong leaned in, murmuring sweet nothings against your temple.

And then the concert ended.

You were all backstage, congratulating Youngbae, when a sharp pain rippled through your stomach. Your hand immediately shot out, grabbing the nearest thing - which happened to be Jiyong’s forearm.

You squeezed, fingers digging in.

Jiyong didn’t even flinch.

Instead, he sighed, tilting his head with that same knowing smirk. "Right, jagi - your contractions are within five minutes. It’s time to go to meet our baby."

Silence.

Then -

“WAIT, WHAT?!”

Every single person in the room turned to stare.

Youngbae, still towelling off his sweat, froze. Hyorin’s jaw dropped. Daesung, mid-sip of water, choked violently.

"Is this really happening?!"

"How could I have not noticed?"

"I'm going to be an uncle again?"

Jiyong rolled his eyes. "Yes, ok, she's in labour. Time to go. Let’s move."

"Yah!" Hyorin smacked your arm. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"You can't smack a pregnant person!" Daesung jumped in, standing in front of you like a personal bodyguard.

You tried to protest, but another contraction hit, and all that came out was a pained groan.

"What are we waiting for!" Youngbae ushered, grabbing his wife as Daesung threw on his jacket.

"This isn't an afterparty." You muttered, shuffling out of the room with Jiyong at your side as the others followed closely behind.

"We were there when you met, we'll be there for this too."

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The car ride was complete chaos.

You were wedged in the back between Hyorin and Daesung, who were gripping your hands like they was the ones about to give birth.

Youngbae was in the passenger seat, throwing out directions that he believed was the fastest way to the hospital.

"Take a left here! Hyung! Hyung! You missed the turning," He instructed Jiyong, his maps up on his phone. "Go right here! No! Jiyong!"

Your husband ignored his frantic shouting as he continued straight ahead. "I know the way." He'd been studying every route to the hospital since you entered your third trimester.

Daesung, squished in the back, was losing his mind. “Drive faster! Why are we not driving faster?! This is an emergency! Run the light!”

Jiyong stayed silent.

Completely calm. Not panicked. Not frantic. Not hovering.

He just gripped the wheel, eyes steady, jaw set. Cool. Collected.

Which only made it worse because nobody expected this.

“Why is he so quiet?!” Daesung hissed from the back.

"Maybe he's in shock!" Hyorin whispered back. "Youngbae fainted when I had our son."

"Hey... I was tired and simply closed my eyes," Youngbae muttered in return. He then looked to his bandmate with wide eyes. "You're not going to faint right? Tell me and I'll grab the wheel."

Jiyong rolled his eyes. “I’m perfectly fine.”

"That makes it weirder, Jiyong!” Daesung exclaimed.

You let out a strangled groan as another contraction hit, gripping Hyorin’s fingers like a vice.

Jiyong found your eyes in the mirror. His voice was calm when he spoke.

"Breathe, jagi," he murmured. "We’re almost there."

Everyone else was in full-blown meltdown mode, and yet he was here, anchored, pulling you back down to earth.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

By the time you got to the hospital, Jiyong immediately sprang into action.

The moment the car stopped, he was out, grabbing the hospital bag from the trunk - which he had secretly packed without your knowledge.

Meanwhile, the rest of the group spilled out of the car like a panicked clown parade.

"Move, move, move!” Youngbae yelled like it was a military drill.

Jiyong opened the door for you, helping you out carefully, and wrapped an arm around your waist as he guided you inside. The others trailed behind, all talking at once -

"We’re here for the birth!”

"She’s having the baby right now!”

"We need a wheelchair!"

"I can still walk Daesung.” You declined even when he nearly tripped you up, trailing closely behind at your heels.

Jiyong ignored all of them. He was only focused on you.

Hyorin was on the phone with your mother, giving her updates in hushed tones. Youngbae was already calling Jiyong’s mom. Daesung, pulled out his own phone, not one to be left out.

"I'm calling Seunghyun," He muttered.

Another contraction hit. You clenched your jaw, voice shaking. "Ji... I’m scared."

And just like that, his entire demeanour softened.

He turned to you, his hands framing your face as he rested his forehead against yours.

"I know, baby," he whispered. "But you’re going to be okay. I’m right here."

And somehow, that was enough.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The moment you were wheeled into the delivery room, the chaos of your friends faded.

It was just you and Jiyong now.

He never let go of your hand.

Not once.

Through every contraction, every moment of pain, he was there. Whispering reassurances. Kissing your knuckles. Smoothing your hair.

"You’re doing so well, jagi."

"Just a little more, my baby."

"I’m right here."

And when your daughter finally entered the world - when her tiny cries filled the room - Jiyong let out the softest, most broken breath.

The doctor placed her in your arms, and Jiyong just stared.

He looked at you, his eyes wet, his lips trembling. "She's here," he whispered. "You did it."

You nodded weakly, exhausted beyond words.

And Jiyong - your calm in the chaos - just broke.

Tears streamed down his face as he cupped your daughter’s tiny head, his hands shaking. "She's perfect," he whispered.

You smiled sleepily, watching the love in his eyes as he gazed at your little girl - the masterpiece he had been waiting for.

The one he'd been waiting for his whole life.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

a throwback to the birth of baby diva! i thought i should post this before Angel arrives - which is not long now!

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure , @maskedcrawford , @breakmeoff , @emmiesoverthemoon , @rafesbunniebby , @ricecake9999 , @fleabagspurplewife

[hoonieyun]

paint them for me?

pairing: park jongseong x reader genre: romance and fluff warnings: nothing besides a kiss! 18+ not proofread lol synopsis: jay watches you fondly do your nails and once you've finished, he asks you to also do his.

hoonieyun notes: some more fluff before the angst begins... hehe!

wc: 1126

one of jay’s favorite things about you was your pure love and enjoyment of getting your nails done. you often got them done by an independent artist but she had moved away and you never found anyone who was just as good and would do your nails the way you liked them.

in comes jay, who convinced you to learn how to do your own nails so that you could not only save money but also do your nails how you want them done. you were hesitant at first because you knew how much skill and patience it took but that was 3 years ago and now you’re practically a professional. 

you’ve been doing your own nails ever since thanks to the encouragement of you boyfriend who surprised you with a nail kit that had everything you needed to do your nails at home and more. he even built you a station in the corner of your bedroom so you could comfortably do your nails. he loved watching you sit down and do your nails because he thought you were so cute as your brows would furrow and how you’d bite your bottom lip as you focused on doing your nails. 

today, you had found a design on pinterest of some abtract lines and shapes but it was in red and since you had just done a set of red nails, you wanted a different color. you had asked jay what color you should do and after thinking about it briefly, he suggested blue, even going as far as to pick out the specific shade of blue from the various colors of nail polish he bought you. 

“this one!” he says, grabbing it from the shelf with a cute smile. you thanked him with a kiss before letting him go back to his own thing. he would often just play his guitar, nap, or scroll on his phone while you did your nails. he liked accompanying you while you did your nails because you were always one to ask him for his advice, “does this look good?”  or “is this cute, babe?” you’d ask him as if he knew anything about nails but everything you did was cute and so were all of the nails that you did. 

it takes you about three hours to finish your nails and jay would bring you water or feed you snacks every so often to make sure you weren’t getting too tired. you showed them off to him after you had finished and he gently grabbed your hand and observed them, complimenting your nails and placing a kiss on your knuckles. 

when you begin to put your things away, he clears his throat, gaining your attention. “are you tired?” he asks and you shake your head no. “why?” you ask while continuing to clean up your area. 

“well.. i was kinda thinking.. can you do my nails? like yours! but not as long haha” he says shyly, scratching the back of his neck and placing a hand in his pocket. 

“really?” you say ethusiastically. you’ve always wanted to match nail designs with your boyfriend but never knew if jay would be interested. you guessed that since you never asked you never would’ve known so you were ecstatic to see that he was not only down to get matching nails with you but he also asked on his own accord. 

“yeah, honestly i chose this color because i liked it and wanted us to match the same colors.” he explains as you extend your hand out to him. jay grabs onto it gently as he sits across from you on the other side of your table. “aww, babe you’re so cute.” you say with a chuckle as he smiles at you endearingly. you begin to take out the items you had put away so you could also do jay’s nails. 

he was very patient with you and was the best client you’ve ever had, although he was also the first and probably only client you’ll ever have. his nails took less time than your because they were short and didn’t need much work, so you were completed in no time. he watched you with hearts in his eyes as you focused on painting his nails. a smile on his lips the whole time. he loved seeing you do things you loved so if it meant getting his nails done too, why not?

“wow, they look sick baby.” he says, looking at his nails up close. “we match!” he says while flipping his hand over so the back of his hand was directedf towards you, a wide and bready smile on his face. “can i take a picture?” you ask. 

“of course, baby.” he says and you take his hand once more and bring him over to the window near your bed for better lighting. you instruct him on how to place his hands after sliding on some of his rings for extra effect. you position your hand next to his as you take the photo, showing him for approval before you post it on your instagram. 

“they’re amazing, baby. thank you, you’re so talented.” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and placing a kiss on your forehead. 

“it’s nothing, babe. i wouldn’t be half the nail artist i am now if you didn’t encourage me and buy all this stuff for me.” you say with a slight pout and jay chuckles as he recalls the day he surprised you with all of this. you were beyond shocked and even shed some tears because he had gone the extra mile to do something for you that he definitely didn’t need to but because he loved you so much, it wasn’t something you ever needed to ask for. 

“next time, you should choose the design too!” you say and jay nods. pulling out his phone so he could start looking for matching nails designs the two of you could do. he even adds new items and polishes into an online store so you could have more options and although you tell him what you have now is fine; you were sure that he was going to secretly put in that order anyways. 

you often spent time learning of jay’s hobbies and interests, getting to know his hometown baseball team and the ways of baseball, the seattle mariner’s, learning basics on the guitar, and his neverending need to try and make new recipes; to which you’d either be his soux chef or taste tester. 

it was only fair that jay also participated in one of your hobbies. another thing that the two of you could do together and bond over. even if it’s something as simple as getting your nails done.

ᡣ•.•𐭩♡ @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @17ericas @manaah02 @heeseung64 @zorange13 @firstclassjaylee @leipforggy

copyright 2025 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

[huhmiya]

CABIN NIGHT | matt sturniolo

pairing: bf!matt x f!reader

summary: where matt takes you to a cabin in the middle of the forest for a romantic evening together.

warning: smut, sub!matt, p in v, use of y/n, pet names (sweetheart, good girl, love, baby), hair pulling, protected sex

warning: smut, dom!matt, p in v, use of y/n, pet names (sweetheart, good girl, baby), hair pulling, protected sex

a/n: not my photos, on pinterest. I haven't posted for a long time, sorry about that

WORDS: 2.3k

huhmiya on wattpad

you - pink | matt- blue

-

Matt has always mentioned or asked you to come to a cabin with him, but you have always agreed and then accidentally made other plans, or he ended up having to record a YouTube video because his brother changed the timetable. As a result, you never had the opportunity.

Today, however, you both finally had the chance to go out and stay at the cabin for a few nights, just the two of you. Matt was very excited, not only because you were with him, but also because he admired a cabin in the woods where no one knew your location.

As he drove, Matt couldn't resist placing his hand on your thigh, a habit he developed when you were in the passenger seat. He never mentioned it, but once he had Chris sitting next to him in the car, and he randomly placed his hand on Chris's thigh for a few seconds, resulting in an awkward silence and Chris teasing him about it ever since. However, Matt didn't let it bother him when he was with you in the car.

The music was playing softly in the background as the two of you chatted. He glanced at you while keeping his focus on the road, and gently squeezed your thigh to get your attention. You responded with a slight hum and made eye contact before he had to turn his attention back to driving.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, his tone gentle. "I know we finally have the time, but I don't want to pressure you. We can turn back if you'd rather not go."

He was eager to go, but unsure if you felt the same. The last thing he wanted was for you to do something you didn't truly want to do just for his sake. Your smile reassured him, and he smiled faintly in return, waiting for your response.

"Why wouldn't I want to?" you answered, watching his side profile as he drove.

He chuckled, his teeth peeking through, as if he thought you were joking. To him, it was clear that he wanted nothing more than to be in a cozy cabin in the middle of the woods with you.

"Have I not made it clear enough for you, sweetheart?" His words caused your eyes to roll, already knowing the answer.

Neither of you spoke, he simply rubbed your thigh and continued to listen to the navigation system guiding you both on the remaining distance until your arrival.

You gazed at his hands, noticing his painted fingernails matching yours, though his were starting to chip off due to his habit of scratching or biting them occasionally.

For the next hour or so, he drove until finally reaching your destination.

Upon arriving, he quickly exited the car to retrieve his belongings and opened the door for you before you could even reach for it, prompting a soft laugh from you.

"Thank you, but I could have done it myself," you said, though secretly enjoying the gesture without needing to express it.

"I prefer to make my girl feel like a princess rather than treating you like a slave," he whispered as he kissed your head before locking the car.

He would retrieve our luggage shortly, but first, he wanted to make sure the key was where it was supposed to be since no one else was around.

He found the key hidden under the plant pot, surprisingly untouched. Just as he was about to pick it up, he remembered the owner talking about some safety tips and details before he rent it.

"Would you like to relax while I grab our things, baby?" he inquired, scanning you from head to toe and smirking when he caught your gaze.

"Don't you want some assistance with that?" you asked, meeting his blue eyes as he simply shook his head in refusal.

You watched him for a moment, considering helping him, but he grabbed your arm and guided you back to your previous position beside him.

"Come on, y/n, be a good girl and listen to me. I don't need help with this," he emphasized, ensuring his words were clear. It wasn't just because he didn't want your help, but also because there were only a few bags to carry since you were both staying for three nights.

You didn't respond, choosing to stay where you were instead of entering the cabin alone. You waited while not helping him.

He made the task of carrying the bags to the cabin seem easier than it actually was. To him, it was no big deal.

He entered the cabin first, with you holding the door for him as he carried both of your belongings. He headed straight to the room, as he had looked it up online before renting it for a short period.

As he disappeared into a room, you took the opportunity to look around. Your fingertips brushed against the soft wood and door handles, trying to figure out the layout of the place.

"Are you exploring? Finding something interesting? What are you up to, love?" he asked upon returning and seeing you inspecting something, though he wasn't sure what.

He approached you and hugged you from behind, resting his head on yours as you took in the details of the room.

"Just looking around," you answered, rubbing his arm adorned with tattoos before starting to walk, yet he still kept his hands wrapped around you.

He wasn't as touchy in front of his brothers, as he never wanted to make them uncomfortable. He was more likely to show affection when the two of you were alone in his room, but he faintly worries about his brothers walking in and judging him for being clingy. However, when he knew it was just the two of you, he could truly relax and be comfortable around you.

You smiled and kissed his hand, as it was the closest thing your lips could touch. Soon after, you pulled away, causing him to watch you.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes focused on you. He wanted to make sure you were alright. You simply nodded and reached into the bag to get a drink of water before putting it in the fridge.

He checked you out like he had done before entering the cabin, admiring your beauty as usual, but something about you today seemed particularly appealing to him.

Without taking any action, he simply sat down on the couch, and before long, you joined him, resting your head on his shoulder. He placed his hand on your arm and gently rubbed it. "Why do you look so stunning today? You always do, but..." His words trailed off, leaving you slightly puzzled and intrigued, but he quickly laughed it off.

After a moment of silence, he felt your fingers tracing his tattoos and readjusting his shirt after. "Could you pleasure me in some way?" he asked quietly, causing you to pull away and meet his gaze as he bit his lip.

"Could you be on top?" he pleaded, continuing to stroke your arm before kissing the tip of your nose.

"Are you being serious right now? Like, actually serious?" you questioned, to which he just gave you a stern look before responding.

"Do you want me to show you my hard cock to prove I'm serious?" he asked, his accent subtly present but not overpowering.

He leaned in and gently kissed your lips, resting his head on the armchair as you slowly straddled him.

"Do you like that, baby?" you whispered, feeling his touch tender as he eagerly tried to remove your shirt.

You broke away from the kiss before he could fully undress you, his gaze fixated on your chest.

"I'm not a fan of bras, but I do love boobs. Well, some bras, at least. They can push your boobs together and drive me wild," he confessed before you silenced him with another kiss.

He groaned and returned the kiss, his hands fumbling with your bra until he finally unclasped it.

After squeezing your breasts, he pulled away from the kiss, admiring your exposed chest that belonged to him as you were his and he was yours.

"Fuck y/n," he grinned. He was acting like a child, but he didn't care. You took off his shirt, and he let you do it.

His torso was exposed, and you ran your hand over it, feeling him harden beneath you while on the couch.

His cheeks were red, and whimpers escaped his mouth as you moved on his lap. He was needy, and you could tell.

You didn't waste any time, knowing he hated being teased but also loved it, depending on his mood. But you could see he was too horny to handle any teasing.

You slowly got off him, making him a bit worried, but then he watched as you took off his jeans, causing him to bite his lip.

His pre-cum stained his boxers, but he didn't seem to care or even notice. His legs trembled slightly with need, but they weren't shaking too much yet.

You left him in his boxers as you slowly undressed, testing his patience even though he couldn't do much.

"Y/N, please, don't make me look foolish here," he whispered, glancing at you before realizing you were testing him.

He removed his boxers on his own as he watched you shed your remaining clothes. His member throbbed, and he couldn't resist the urge to pleasure himself in that moment.

You placed your hands on his knees and then ran them up to his thighs. He caught his breath and gazed at your hands.

"Are you sure you want me to make love to you?" you asked. He nodded, but then swiftly reached for his jeans, pulling out a condom from his pocket.

"Did you anticipate this?" you teased. He just shrugged and handed you the condom. You opened it with your teeth before sliding it onto his erection.

He gasped as your hand made contact with his eager member, craving your touch.

He grinned at you before gripping your hips, guiding you to straddle him on his lap since he couldn't bear not feeling your touch on his throbbing shaft.

He ensured that you were comfortable and adjusted to his size. His eyes rolled back as he restrained himself from moaning in pleasure.

"Good girl, y/n," he stammered out, noticing the mix of pain and pleasure on your face as you slowly rocked your hips.

He tried to control his excitement so that you wouldn't experience any pain after getting accustomed to it once again, as you had done many times before, and he particularly enjoyed when you were wrapped around him.

"Oh, yes," you whispered to yourself, the pain gradually giving way to pleasure.

You began to move more vigorously, which is what he desired and enjoyed. Both of you let out sounds of pleasure.

He grabbed your hair, pulling it back, causing you to close your eyes and part your lips, feeling his strong hands in your hair.

The rougher and faster you went, the tighter he held onto your hair.

Your moans were like music to his ears, which he adored. Your mixed-up breathing, as you focused on being dominant some of the time and the other on the pleasure.

His eyes glistened with pleasure, his skin becoming moist as his cock was coated in your wetness. He could tell you were close by the way you were getting rougher while riding him on the couch, your moans growing higher in pitch.

"Are you close, sweetheart?" he asked, looking at you before pulling your hair as his orgasm built up.

You nodded, both of you covered in sweat. You pushed his hair back while continuing to ride him, his hands exploring your waist.

His eyes rolled back as you began kissing his neck, causing him to moan softly from the sensation and your movements.

"Damn, I'm going to cum if you keep teasing me like that," he whispered softly, almost inaudibly.

You felt your own orgasm building, sensing Matt's cock twitching more inside you, indicating he was close as well.

A few tears welled up in his bright blue eyes, overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through him. He bit his lip in response to the sound of your moans, unaware that you had just reached your climax on his cock.

His eyes widened in amazement and desire, a mix of awe and lust consuming him. He felt your legs tremble slightly from the intensity of your orgasm, yet you continued to ride him with such vigor that it clouded his thoughts.

"Oh, that's it, y/n, fuck," he groaned, his hands entangled in your hair as he released into the condom.

His moans echoed louder than yours, his body arching in ecstasy as he struggled to stifle his sounds.

As you gradually slowed your movements, he finally caught his breath and was able to gaze at you intently.

"Can we do this every night while we're in the cabin?" he asked with a smirk, cheeks flushed.

"Maybe," you replied as you dismounted, leaving a trace of your essence on his member. He removed the condom, tied it off, and disposed of it in the bin.

"I can make you say yes," he says, throwing down the gauntlet. You arch an eyebrow as he winks and settles back on the couch beside you once more.

masterlist! guidelines & information! wattpad! socials!

[fanaticsnail]

An Affectionate Embrace

Masterlist Here

Characters: Buggy, Mihawk, Crocodile, Shanks, Beckman (Art found on Pinterest)

Word Count: 650-900 per gentleman. 

Synopsis: It was a simple reaction, an impulse you felt organic and out of your control. Their cheek was right there, and the swell in your chest and spike of adrenaline prompted you to lunge forward and capture their cheek beneath your lips. How do they react to such a soft touch? Do they shy away, or do they respond in kind?

Notes: Since completing the "Kiss Their Cheek" for both the monster and supernova trios, I had to get a little kiss on the sea-dilfs. Considering they’re a little older and more experienced (and less easy to fluster), there’s a little more depth to their reactions. 

Themes: cheek kisses, feelings, unrequited love, confessions of love, no prior romantic relationship, gn!reader, pure fluff, lil bit angsty, small bit of fear, bittersweet emotions. 

Tag List: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @cinnbar-bun @carrotsunshine

Buggy

“Captain, you’re back!” you cried with glee, eagerly rising to your feet alongside the devoted crew. Each member rushed over to greet him, cheers and enthusiastic cries of joy sprang forth from the lips and throats of your comrades in arms. 

Buggy D Clown had been away for a while, wandering throughout the seas and attempting to get back to his loyal and faithful crew. You had been searching for him for weeks, and finally at the umpteenth hour, his heavy boots found the deck of the Big Top once again. 

As the first member of the crew to reach him, you flung yourself into his arms and littered his face in a flurry of rapid kisses. You adored your captain. All of the crew did. Considering the massive swell and release of emotions, you could barely contain your incessant need to wrap yourself around him and continue laying into him with peppered pecks atop his cheeks, chin, forehead and stubbled jaw. 

The rest of the crew joined you in your embrace, each member attempting to get as close as they could to kiss, claw, bow and nuzzle against the captain. Giggling along with them in cheer, you felt Buggy’s expression change from joy and pride into a deep and heavy frown.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Buggy’s low tone attempted to break the crew away from their embrace. None could hear his direction over their own desire to worship their captain with their lips, arms and knees. Kneeling before him and reaching up their grabby hands, uttering “we missed you,” and “we love you, captain,” repetitively, Buggy’s body began to vibrate as his rage ignited. 

“That’s enough,” he tried again, the crew not responding to his commands and continuing to mumble, babble and cry for him. You hastily withdrew yourself from his arms, adjusting your clothes and turning to your crew.

“Oi, you lot! Captain said it’s enough!” you called, booming your voice to halt the crew of their incessant repetition. “Hoist the colors, unsheath the sails, weigh anchor: prepare to make waves!” 

“Aye,” the crew responded, hastily snapping out of their prior hypnosis and scrambling to follow your commands. Although you were not the first-mate, you were excellent at barking orders to the unruly crew. Turning to glance at the blushed, painted face of your captain, you smiled up and him and clapped a supportive hand over his shoulder. 

“It’s good to have you back, sir,” you confessed briefly, turning away to begin your duties to set sail, “Do we have a heading, Sir- Mmfmph!” Buggy’s index finger and thumb collected your chin, hoisting you closer to him as he drew his face closer to meet with yours. 

Closing the gap, your captain’s lips collided with your own, his red paint smeared over your lips and cheeks as he pressed a heavy and intentional kisses against your mouth. His hand withdrew from your chin, raking his gloved hand through your hair to draw you into himself. 

“S-Sorry, Doll,” he stuttered upon his withdrawal, “It’s been a little while, and I missed you too.” Your eyes held a momentary confusion, your head shaking with a broad rise in your smile.

“You gonna kiss all the crew, Captain?” you laughed joyfully and in good humor, “Am I the lucky number one to receive a kiss from you? You want me to line them up for you, Sir?” 

Where you expected to find a loud outrageous cackle at your joke, akin to one that you were always greeted with when you verbally played with your captain, what you found in it’s wake was something different. Buggy’s hands sought out your hips, drawing you closer and pressing his forehead against your shoulder. 

“No,” he whispered in a voice so silent you could barely hear it, “Just you.” Reactionary, you wrapped your arms around his neck and soothed over his hair and shoulders with several soothing touches. You felt his anxiety release and his tension depart from him with a shaken movement on his shoulders. The longer he remained nuzzled against you, the more he realized he never wanted to be apart from you again. 

Mihawk

The cool steel of metal clashed together, a cross-shaped window crafted between your blades as you bore your eyes into his honey-hue. Mihawk had been training you in the art of the sword, desperate for you to be a well-rounded fighter. You were no swordsperson, only minimal prior skill with a blade meant for single combat. 

But Mihawk, the owner of castle Kuraigana and your superior, was a determined teacher.

“This maneuver is called ‘the talking window’,” he informed you, clicking the blade against the sharpened edge of your sword. You nodded as he continued to educate you, “This is where many a swordsman may converse, or threaten their opponent with verbal intimidation.” 

Humming in response, he tested the grip on your steel with a firm shove: breaking you from contact against his blade. He lunged forward with his training sword, thrusting it out and prompting you to parry the blow. 

“Try again, and see if you can disarm me with a threat while in there,” his authoritative tone almost caught you off guard. “Think on your feet. I’ll grant you a single moment there to test your words. Your job is to have me stumble enough verbally to lose my momentum in combat.” 

Picking up your stance, you tapped your sword against his while you allowed your mind to produce witty and original retort. Kicking up your feet and swirling in place, your blade's edge was once again drawn against Mihawk’s as he awaited your verbal disarm. 

But there was something about the way he was looking at you. His eyes held encouragement with his usual abrasiveness, a combination you were yet to find in its equal. The hue of amber decorated his honey-irises with the soft swell of the uncharted and unfamiliar. Disarmed yourself by the emergence of new emotions, your body moved against your will and pressed through the window of crossed-blades.

You sprung forward, your lips immediately finding purchase against his whiskered cheek. This small act of pure instinct stunned Mihawk in his stance, his fingers loosening around the hilt of his blade and softening against your sword. 

Considering the hastiness of your own actions, you withdrew as quickly as your lips found his cheek. Your own cheeks flooded with warmth, your lips tingling with the lingering glow of the kiss, as you slunk back in your stance. After a few rapid blinks, Mihawk thrust his blade against your own, easily circling his wrist to rid your grasp over the hilt of your sword and dropping it to the ground.

“I-I’m sorry, I just-,” you began, halted by Mihawk casting his own blade down beside yours and lunging forward. He closed the distance, his hands grasping at your hips and drawing your body flush against his own. Pelvises touching, lips within distance, he circled his chin as a snake would mesmerize their unwitting and unsuspecting prey. 

“-If you’re going to disarm me with something as bold as a kiss,” Mihawk purred down at you, his gaze holding you hostage under its sultry hypnotism, “Then at least do it properly, for both our sakes.” 

“For both our-?” your words halted in your throat as your lips became eclipsed under the soft touch of Dracule Mihawk’s lips against your own. Your eyes widened, his lips opening and molding against yours to find a kiss as deep enough - as passionate enough - to grant you the insight to all of his pent up emotions. 

Brows furrowed and hands roaming, he cradled your form against himself, succumbing to the feeling of bliss against your lips as each moment flooded into the next. Finally allowing himself the luxury of opening himself up to this genre of touch, he would never let you go. You were his, and he was yours. 

Crocodile

“I have set out three towels, lotions and soaps, alongside an assortment of your usual clothes should you desire them over your current ensemble,” you nodded, gesturing to the broad chest, arms and legs of the once respectable Sir Crocodile. 

His hair was greasy, his eyes were sunken, and his shoulders carried a foreign weight you had not expected to find anchoring your former boss to the floor. As Sir Crocodile’s personal assistant, you were privy to witnessing every state he found himself in. All aside from this one. 

He was defeated. His spirit was broken alongside the reflective gold of his left hook. The object was littered in scratches and scuff marks, his body fairing not so different under the longevity he served in Impel Down. His eyes followed your gesture, glaring at the assortment of clothes atop the vanity cabinet before floating his eyes up to meet with his reflection within the broad mirror. 

Although he was yet to utter a single word to you, his silence depicted the raw emotions swelling within the heart, spirit and soul of Sir Crocodile. 

He was not who he once was. 

A man broken, clawing and desperate to be freed from the confines of a torturous prison - to battle and grind through the smog of battle to once again be shepherded into your awaiting embrace. His employee, his confidant, his friend - his love. A love he was yet to express due to the nature of your occupation.

He focussed on his sinking eyes, not recognising the figure glancing back at him. His body was marked with the white and black stripes of imprisonment, his mind laying heavily on the way his body was weakened under the sea stone walls, floors and shackles. He couldn’t find his former self amongst the remains of the man he saw in the silvery reflection. Each crease of his crows feet, each silvered hair on his head, each purple circle beneath his eye was a stranger glaring back at him.

“If I may, Sir,” you began, stepping forward and hovering your hands over his shoulders in the reflection. Deciding against your better judgment, you placed your hands firmly upon his shoulders, soothing over the flesh with your thumbs. You felt him sigh into your touch, but not conform, nor fully embrace, your affectionate touch.

“You are strong,” you uttered into his ear, watching his eyes for any indication of discomfort or apprehension. Finding none in its wake, you continued uttering assurances while you caressed his flesh. He sighed into your touch, leaning into each ministration your hands provided him above his prison uniform. 

“You have carved your destiny out by tooth and nail, Sir,” you assured him, paying attention to the scruff of his neck: circling your hands to relieve the stress and tension from his rapidly troubled mind, “You are the man you have always been, Sir Crocodile.”

“And who am I, Rouhi?” he whispered through his exhale, lulling his head back to lean into your palms. His eyes were shut, his forehead plagued by the trials he endured at the violent hands of the marines.

You couldn’t help yourself, your heartstrings tugging and pulling you down to press your lips against his cheek. The silvery scar cutting his eyes away from his nose,jaw and lips feeling rough beneath your lips. You allowed yourself a moment to hold him beneath your lips, feeling the tension rapidly leave him the longer you pressed this affectionate expression against his skin.

“You are Sir Crocodile,” you whispered after tearing your lips away from his cheek, “You are an influential threat that can have the world fall to their knees under your power.” Glancing into his eyes, you saw the world within their purple hue. His eyes swelled beneath their heavy torment, searching your own for more than your words had spoken.

“Is that all I am?” he whispered, his heart weighing heavy in his chest as he looked up at you, “Am I nothing more?” 

“You are everything to me, Sir,” you confessed, your heart feeling lighter while the adrenaline pumped to flush your cheeks with a darkening heat, “You can take from that confession what you truly desire to make from it. For now: your clothes have been pressed, your towels have been fluffed, and your home has been made ready to receive you-.”

Lips found yours, his affectionate and apprehensive touch hungrily calling for you with each passing moment. He held his lips against you as if it was the only tether holding his form to this earth, his anchor within the harbor of an unknown land of unrestrained affection. Right hand lacing into your hair, his whimpered groan departed his lips and cried lowly into your own. 

He was anew. The broken man he once was no longer found purchase within his chest. Whichever destiny he carved for himself, he would have you by his side to hold him accountable and support him in claiming his fate.

Shanks

The air was light, the jovial melodies thrust into the air at the hands of skilled minstrels. You had been dancing all night with your crew, the momentum finally catching up with you as you all found your seats for a momentary reprieve. 

A laugh fled your throat as you twirled your body once more as the music decrecendoed. Applauding the talent produced at the hands and lips of the musicians, you turned to face your crew: their bodies claiming each of the empty surfaces deemed appropriate for the body to recline against. No stool, chair, sofa nor benchtop remained unoccupied as the crew found their reprieve from lengthy dancing. 

“Why don’t you sit on my lap, love?” your captain chuckled at you, prompting a rise in laughter among the remainder of the crew, including yourself. “I’m far more comfortable than the chairs around here, anyway.”

“How considerate of you, Captain,” you feigned your appreciation, holding your hand to your heart and drawing out each intentional step towards his lap, “Will you wrap your arms-... -pardon, sir. Arm around me as I take my rightful place atop your mighty throne?”

Always playful and light were the interactions you had with your captain. No matter the years that passed in your longevity in servitude aboard the Red-Force, the playful rapport between Shanks and yourself was something ever present. 

“I will put my arm wherever you like, love,” he chuckled, his hazelnut eyes beckoning you in as you drew yourself ever closer, “I’ll keep you safe, so long as you feed me my ale and tell me I’m pretty.”

“So pretty, sir,” you laughed down at him, sinking atop his knee while caressing your hand over his cheek, “The prettiest man that ever did live.” As you cooed into his face, you leant down and pressed a lengthy and extravagant kiss atop his cheek, feigning enthusiasm with a vocal moan while smiling. 

The crew burst into a large, communal laugh that resonated within the chest of your captain. The teetered chuckles died down as the men found their drinks, your hand clasping around the hilt of Shanks’ ale and elevating it to his lips. 

His eyes never left you for a single moment.

Feeling small beneath his gaze, you placed his tankard down against the table and turned to face him with your brows knit into a gruff frown.

“What, Captain?” you asked him, the anxiety elevating in your chest for each moment that continued to pass between you.

“You missed, love,” he chuckled darkly. You were puzzled, searching for a moment in your servitude that you ever missed a single target - falling short in your memories. Before you had an opportunity to ask him a follow up question, you were silenced by Shanks’ right index finger raking along your jaw and collecting your chin within the hooked digit. 

“If you’re going to kiss me,” his smirk carried his dangerously playful tone, “Make sure you hit the right target.” He allowed himself to dwell in that moment of teasing, feeling you slink back atop his lap while his eyes held nothing but unbridled affirmation within their hue.

“Now give us a proper kiss, love,” he uttered before dragging your head towards him, his lips meeting your own. The room uproared into a momentary chaos: cheers, hollers and whistles rose amongst the crew the longer you held your lips against Shanks’. He chuckled against your lips, turning his head and humming against your opening mouth.

“There ‘ya go,” Shanks laughed after pulling away, “Lead with that next time, love. Makes it all less confusing for the lot of us.” 

But you were left more confused than the moment you kissed his cheek. Did he like you? Did he want more? Did you want more? You would need to discuss this when the both of you find yourselves in an air of sobriety, that was for certain. 

Beckman

The storm scattered your face with a flurry of ice-splinters of frozen rain.The Red-Force was stampeding throughout the waves to find refuge in the eye of the storm, your task was to release the sails to have the natural wind pull you toward the calming center of the flurry. 

On the last knot set to release the canvas, the sail snagged on the rope against the top-mast: prompting you to sprint towards the ropes to clamber up amongst the havoc. Your feet caught in the ropes, your heart springing to your throat as you readjusted yourself and stabilized your body within your climb. 

“Careful up there!” the barked call of the first mate of the Red-Haired crew called to you over the wild and unruly wind. You could barely make out his words, let alone formulate an answer over the swell of rainfall. 

Anchoring yourself amongst the ropes, you began desperately tugging at the knot to loosen. Your eyes became misted by the rapid downpour of water, your hands and fingers desperately clawing at the joint fibers of the rope to loosen. As you finally released the last loop of rope amongst the canvas, your feet slipped and your fingers barely brushed with the ropes to hold yourself steady before you began to fall. 

The air was cool, the clouds above shepherded you into the lull of calm before you deduced your body would meet firmly against the deck and break your neck on impact. There was no way you would survive such a drop: no Devil-Fruit abilities to caress your fall, nor Haki present to catch you on impact. 

Little did you know, the moment Benn Beckman barked his orders: he ensured his body was intentionally beneath yours to collect you in his arms should you fall. Although first mate to captain Shanks of the Red-Hair pirates, you were special to him. He needed to ensure your safety, regardless of his own orders to remain at his post. 

As you fell through the air and readied your soul to flee from your body to welcome death with a warm embrace, the only embrace you felt was a warm chest, two steady and firm arms, and an angry reprimand falling from the lips of the gray-haired first mate.

“I told you to be careful!” he barked at you, his eyes wild and frantic as his brow deepened in a low frown. Your breath hitched in your throat, watching as his passionate scolding ignited behind his eyes. “You need to be careful, to be wise. I don’t care what Shanks told you to do, nor how stupid a command it is. You need to be more careful. Hitch a rope around your belt or somethin’, or between each loop to stop you from falling. I can’t lose you to something so stupid as a storm.” 

You could barely comprehend his words, each syllable sounding heavenly against your ears as you appreciated each breath you were granted. You expected to die there, to fall from the ropes and have your neck snap upon impact against the deck - littering your skin with splinters from the wood and choirs serenading you into the life thereafter. In its stead, you were met with a grumpy bark and a cool reprimand that had your heart swelling and eyes misting with the rise of emotions.

Without thinking, you lunged forwards in his arms, your lips making contact against his stubbled cheek. You whimpered against his flesh, arms hooking over his neck and brows upturning in appreciation for his care for you. Your emotions spilled over: thanking whichever deity that was watching over you for the opportunity to live to not only serve this crew, but to feel the touch of Benn Beckman beneath your lips while your body remained chaperoned and cradled within his broad arms. 

At a small sob escaping from your lips, Beckman’s heart softened. He cradled you against himself further, huffing out a small laugh and allowing you to remain in his arms a moment longer. He had desired this touch from you for some time, but refused to act on it due to your proximity and place amongst the crew should the relationship sour. 

“A-Alright, Darlin’. Easy now,” he chuckled, feeling the small quake in your shoulders at the adjustment of your near demise, “Don’t let me get a big head.” 

“You just saved my life, Benn Beckman,” you reiterated, tearing yourself away from him to stare up into his silvery eyes, “A kiss on the cheek is hardly a just reward for such a feat.” Holding his eyes against yours, the rain began to settle as the clouds departed in the eye of the storm. The sun's rays flittered down and cascaded over your bodies, the storm finally finding solace and breaking its tyrannical attack against the Red-Force.

After the storm settled, the soothing swell of waves held you in a momentary calm as your head reclined against Benn Beckman’s broad shoulder. Sitting on the damp deck, with a plush blanket wrapped around your shoulders, Beckman’s lips found your forehead as your eyes grew heavy with want and soothed within the proximity against your valiant savior.  

You could not stop staring at him: this burly man with the grumpy twinkle in his eye. You would offer him the world should he ask it of you, grant him every desire his heart would swell for. You had no idea that the desire itself was you until he made that fact abundantly clear upon your wake in the morning. 

[noreasontobebland]

Sylus x Pink/Girly Black Female Reader

I seen this tiktok and for some reason I imagined Sylus being the dark gloomy (and sassy) man he is known to be getting you your own room and making it like this in his enormous black home.

If anybody knew that the leader of Onychinus had a girlfriend they’d be shocked.

But if they knew his girlfriend was the polar opposite of him, they’d be speechless and confused.

You both looked like yin and yang together.

But Sylus didn’t care, he didn’t care who knew or judged because if you asked him he absolutely adores you.

He is never bored when you’re around, your cute pastel outfits, your little dresses and mini skirts. Your flaboyant personality that clashes with his in the best way he really couldn’t get enough of you.

You gives this man the worst cute aggression.

He is so deeply entertained by you, you’re a literal light and pop of color to his big black and gold home.

He still doesn’t see the appeal of pretty and cute things, though it could’ve fooled you because you tend to catch his piercing red eyes following you with every move you make with such love in his eyes.

Sylus also noticed you not only love to dress in pretty and pink, but you love to live in it. It somewhat shocked him to know you never had a problem with being at his house most of the time. Whenever he questioned you if he should remodel you insist he keep his own style if he does.

You didn’t want to change him and it warmed his heart.

So, he decided that since you are over most weekends he wanted to make his home, yours as well. For the past few weeks he had a room that the twins were in to help fix up for you behind your back. You had no clue of this seeing that you never go into that room anyways.

“Where are we going that I haven’t been? Omygosh are we finally going to the—“

“No. Not the armory, kitten.” He guides you to the door with his hands over your eyes, though he doesn’t look it he is internally nervous of whether or not you’d approve. “It’s a gift. For you.”

You feel the weight of his hands off your face and you blink open to a black door with your name encrusted in rose gold on it.

“A door.” You turn to him in a sarcastic voice, “you got me my own door.”

“And what’s behind the door too, sweetie. Open it.”

You grab the handle and are welcomed to a BEAUTIFULLY renovated room, the walls were painted a feint pink with your favorite anime/manga posters, fairy lights, and decorated exactly how your dreamt of in your Pinterest board (that Sylus totally didn’t take a look at on your phone when you were sleep) it was like walking into a different house!

You had a couch, fireplace, television, mini fridge, and you turn to see a HUGE canopy bed, made for a princess.

“What’s that smell?” You ask not out of disgust, but curiosity.

“Peony and Rose, dear. I finally found that perfume you been wanting and had it made into an air freshener for your room.”

“Well…” Sylus crosses his arms in amusement, seeing that you had the same 😧 look on your face for 3 whole minutes walking around.

You didn’t have much to say besides how beautiful and amazing this came out. It felt surreal. You turn to your tall smug boyfriend and rush to hug him tightly.

The sudden contact made him groan, taken a back he comes to his senses against reciprocates the hug.

“I assume you like it then?”

You inhale his scent before looking up at him with glossy eyes. “Thank you….”

It almost freaked him out seeing your tears swell, he hates seeing you cry, but after looking into your eyes it was due to happiness . Something he couldn’t completely understand, but could accept.

You couldn’t help but to babble on how much your were grateful and how he didn’t have to and how amazing he was, of course Sylus being Sylus teased you but deep down, he wish to capture this moment and have it on replay.

“Come! Come here!” You drag his arm to your bed, pushing back the curtains to lay down and pull him with you on the fluffy comforter.

“I had these blankets custom made from France do you really want my dirty work clothes —“

“I want you to lay with me.”

How could he tell you no?

You spoil him in kisses , holding him close to your breast, nearly smothering the man, but he doesn’t mind it. You are too cute to get frustrated with to him.

“I *kiss* love *kiss* you *kiss* so *kiss* much.”

“If I’d known you’d be this affectionate I’d turn my whole house into a pink wonderland for you.”

“Naaaah, I think this one room is okay….besides I like your home the way it is…I always did.”

And there he was, the insane, killer of a man Sylus laid beside his cute, small pretty n pink girlfriend in her cute small huge pretty n pink bed.

And he wouldn’t trade this moment for anything in the world.

[winterfairyccxxii]

King in the North (Jon snow x AFAB reader)

picture is not mine i found it on pinterest

description: Jon fucks you in the great hall after being named King in the North

warnings: smut, oral sex (f receiving) p in v table sex creampie vaginal fingering multiple orgasms little bit of dirty talk (mostly from reader and i guess it’s actually just teasing)

notes: feel like Jon has a kink for you calling him ‘king’. also sorry if this is really fast i really hate slow burn smut 😭

there’s definitely not enough x reader smut of him

Night had already fallen upon Winterfell but Jon was still seated at the high table in the great hall thinking of his life for the past week. He died, came back, fought a war. Now he was a king, something he never even dreamed of being. He suddenly felt a presence in front of him and he looked up to see..you. You were wearing quite the short skirt too short for the North that was for sure and stockings..even though he was worried about you being cold, Jon couldn’t help the way his breath hitched and the tightening of his breeches as his eyes raked over you.

“Aren’t you cold, darling?” He asks his voice coming out huskier than he wanted.

“Perhaps my king could keep me warm” you answer.

My king. The words stirred something in Jon. It sounded so..seductive coming from your mouth and he was definitely hard now.

“Come here” he cleared his throat.

As you walked to stand next to him he quickly grabbed your hips and placed you in his lap causing you to find out a soft gasp of surprise but you quickly recover when you feel something against your own groin.

“What’s got you so excited, your grace?” You smirk a little and roll your hips a little.

“Darling” he gasps out his cock straining against his underclothes.

“What?” You ask feigning innocence and he rolled his eyes

“Don’t play innocent with me” he gently picks you up and places you on the table while he stands in between your legs.

Your breathing heaves and you start panting softly but you want to keep teasing him “what are you going to do, my king?” You spread your legs a bit wider “fuck me on this table?”

“Yes” he answers without hesitation which causes your cheeks turn pink and you let out a small ‘oh’ in response

He press his lips against your ear “can I taste you, love?”

“Yes” you quickly nod in response watching him fall to his knees in front of you

Jon reaches under your skirt and pulls down your underclothes and discarding them on the floor revealing your cunt to him. He kisses up your right thigh occasionally nibbling on the soft skin until he finally reaches his destination. His warm breath fans over your honeypot, he chuckles when you whine out of frustration and buck your hips towards his face.

He presses hot kisses around your outer lips before parting them with his tongue causing you to gasp and your hand flies to his head your fingers curling in his hair messing up his bun.

Jon gently laps at your juices moaning from the taste as you push his head against you and grind against his mouth biting your lip to hide your sounds as you breathe heavily through your nose.

Drool and your arousal paint Jons beard as he continues using his tongue. The wet muscle occasionally flickering over your bundle of nerves until it finds your dripping hole and he pushes it inside. He tongue fucks you until you reach your peak he licks up your juices before standing back up placing his hands on the table on either side of you as both of you catch your breath.

Jon leant in and gently kissed up and down your throat as his hand made it’s way in between your thighs. He gently slips his middle and marriage fingers into you causing you half-whine half-gasp. He curls his fingers smirking in your skin when he feels your legs tense up and you start rocking into his hand. He starts moving the digits at a fast pace and his thumb brushed against your clit causing you to press your forehead against his shoulder. Your second orgasm came faster than you expected and you limp against him as your legs quiver

“You alright, love?” He asks slipping his fingers out and licking you off them

“Y-Yeah..” you pant out

“Good enough for my cock?” He pushes you back to look at your face and you quickly nod

You watch as he undoes his breeches pulling them and his underclothes down revealing his manhood. He presses the head against your entrance causing you to move your hips encouraging him to go in but he just chuckles

“Patience, sweetheart” he says causing you to whine which makes him give in

You gasp as he stretches you out and wrap an arm around his neck. You give him the go ahead to move and he gently starts rocking his hips. His hands grips your thighs as he pulls himself out so only the tip is inside you before slamming back in completely. You place your hands on the table for balance as his movements become frantic both of you trying your best to hide your sounds of pleasure. But atlas your moans become too loud for you to control so he places a hand over your mouth.

“Quiet, dear” he speaks moving a bit faster “don’t want anyone to hear”

You nod pressing your face closer to his hand so you don’t risk it.

Soon enough Jon feels you squeeze around him and he moves faster encouraging you to peak which you do as your eyes roll back to your head and you feel his warm seed filling you.

Jon pulls out of you as you both pant as he recovers he bends down put his trouser back on and helps you but your underclothes on before picking you up bridal style and bringing you to your chambers so you both can rest.

[ryemackerel]

Happy New Year’s 2017 guys! 🥳

Chose this song because this song gets EXACTLY how I imagine Tord and Matt’s themes combined. They both fw this song cause damn it’s good.

These two are total freaks, total fucking FREAKS man. Get a room or something you two. Not the bathroom because that shit’s nasty. Tord and Matt right, you pair them up and you get one of the most chaotic duos in the house. Not saying the others aren’t as chaotic, but these two are VERY energetic and open about it.

And this is a day after Matt came back from his airplane trip. So Tord picked him up from the airport, and they went to this sushi buffet place. Matt loves sushi, so Tord knew and was like “Oh yeah I know exactly where to take you.”

I have no idea how this situation came to be though. Tord had to use the toilet and Matt wanted to join and give him company LMAO. They both thought it would be funny if Matt came along and they proceeded to both become dumbasses.

Redrew over a Pinterest photo I found while scrolling for ideas. The original image was a bit smaller than my sketched out idea, so I had to improvise and paint the edges to match the og photo. I’m really happy how well it blends in, and you can see the comparison with the og photo. :-]

That and I didn’t want to entirely trace over the people in the photo. I traced over some guidelines to make it anatomically correct, but largely gave myself room to improvise and fill in gaps so it could fit my style. I’m pretty happy with how this turned out, and aye, hope you enjoy it. :-]

[quinnynation]

Carrington x reader dating hcs with a YouTuber reader? Maybe who makes those speed paint voice over videos like Emma Artly

take a look at my girlfriend ᯓᡣ𐭩 headcannons

pairing : boyfriend!carrington x artist!youtuber!gf!reader [no smut !!]

divider credit : pics from pinterest, starry night divider from @thecutestgrotto

🖌 first things first, that man is not only your muse

🎨 but your BIGGEST cheerleader

📝 watches you sketch with the BIGGEST puppy-dog eyes

🖍 his constant yapping somehow leads you to the most creative ideas

🖌 "imagine if like gozilla had a cat yk? like okay picture it-" *frantically searching for apple pen*

🎨 every valentines day you post a video and its just a slideshow of either the COUNTLESS sketches you have of him, OR, a montage of everytime he's interrupted your voice overs but like animated yk

📝 he's constantly helping you come up with art challenge ideas

🖍 "draw your ocs but blindfolded while driving" "...i don't know about the driving part but-"

🖌 once you let him do your voiceover for a speed-drawing you did

🎨 "i think she's adding shading" "...oh no she's drawing his head" "hey wait...IS THIS ME?"

📝 his secret skill is finding your apple pen in your bedsheets

🖍 "FOUND IT!"

a/n : i love when you guys get specific with readers/requests its so fun for me /gen (lower case intended !)

[libraryofolive]

party time!

featuring: CEO!Satoru Gojo x trophy wife!reader

genre: fluff, drabble

word count: 1.2k

synopsis: You, the trophy wife of the infamous Satoru Gojo, decide to spend your October planning a no expenses spared party to celebrate the holiday. What could go wrong?

part one of spooky section, my 2024 Halloween event!

“We’re throwing a party.” You declared over dinner on a dreary mid-September day. Your husband, the notorious CEO Satoru Gojo looked up from his meal (made from scratch, by you) at the sound of your voice.

“Hm?” He asked, cocking his head to one side, blue eyes as bright as ever.

“We’re throwing a party. For Halloween.” You continued, “I want something to do whilst you’re at the office all day. So, I’m throwing a Halloween party. It’ll be the talk of the town.”

“I’d expect nothing less from my darling wife.”

“I’ll handle everything - down to your costume. We’ll be doing a couple’s costume-”

“I would hope so-”

“I want it to be extravagant. The type of party that ends up like an urban legend.”

“You know I love when you have a passion project, baby. Why are you asking mee for my permission on this?”

“Oh, I’m not asking for permission.” You grinned at your husband, “I’m asking for a budget.”

By the time All Hallows Eve fell, everything had miraculously fallen into place. It had taken you the full month and a half to plan everything, but seeing it all pull together had made it all worth it. You had decided to throw it at your multi-story penthouse, deciding it made the party feel more personal, more exclusive. But gone was the chic home you and Satoru were used to, and instead, when Satoru returned home from a half day at the office (to leave plenty of time to get ready, by your demand) it was like walking into a whole new universe. Candelabras lined the walls, the melted wax dripping red against the white exterior of the candles, giving a blood-like effect. Cobwebs were strung from the ceiling, littered with faux bats and fairy lights. You had turned one of your corridors into the iconic tunnel from Coraline, your kitchen into a witches’ lair, full of ‘potions’ to drink and ‘charms’ to eat. Even your windows were decorated - full of decals that made them look like the stained glass one would find in an ancient church. There were pumpkins everywhere, some carved, some warty - in any placed you looked there was something seasonal.

“Baby?” He had called out once his awe had worn off.

“In the bedroom! Get your ass in here!” You yelled back. He let out a chuckle at that, before heading up the stairs two at a time. To say he was excited to finally found out what he would be dressed as this evening would be an understatement - if he was being perfectly honest, he would say it had been at the forefront of his mind since he slid you that black card after you had asked for a budget, telling you to go crazy. He had been stalking your various Pinterest boards dedicated to this party, to no avail (you knew he would do this, so purposefully made a private board for costume ideas, it was a surprise, after all).

He burst into your bedroom, giving the poor woman currently doing your make up a fright. “Blue? You’re being painted blue… please don’t tell me you’re making me be Papa Smurf all night.” His eyes scanned the room, looking for anything that would tip him off as to what you had planned. You giggled at his antics, forcing yourself not to shake your head at him so you didn’t disturb your make-up artists.

“And parade around as Smurfette all night? No, it’s something much better.” You couldn’t help the grin that overtook your face. “Your costume is hanging up in the white bag in my closet - bring it in here before you open it. I want to see your reaction.” Satoru all but sprinted to your closet. Halloween had always been one of his favourite times of year, so when you had told him you had wanted to throw a kick-ass party for the holiday, he wanted to jump with joy.

He found the bag immediately and raced back to your side, shaking in anticipation.

“Go ahead, Toru, open it.” He was like a child at Christmas with how quickly he tore the zip of the garment bag open, his glee lighting up the room. He took the costume in - a pinstripe suit. Was he Gomez Addams? But you were being painted blue, so you certainly weren’t in the middle of a transformation into Morticia. The tails of the suit jacket were thin and pointy, and there was five of them instead of the usual two. It wasn’t until he set his eyes on the iconic, large bowtie, or rather bat-tie that it all clicked into place.

“Jack Skellington!” He gasped. “Right? And you’re blue because you’re going to be my Sally?”

“Bingo.” You smiled fondly at him.

“Babe, this is- this is amazing. Your decorations are like - oh my God, they’re brilliant, and this is such a good costume idea-” Your face warmed as he sung your praises, glad he approved.

A few hours later and the party was in full swing. Everyone you had invited showed up, all dressed to the nines in their various costumes. Drinks flowed, the band you hired kept the vibe up and the dance floor full practically all night. At points, that included you and Satoru, who couldn’t resist a dance (or two or three) with his lovely wife.

In the wee hours of the morning, as people filtered out, after thanking you for a brilliant night, some even enquiring if you’d do the whole thing again a year later, Satoru forced you onto the dance floor one last time. This one much slower, much more intimate, as he held you close, tucked against his chest and under his chin, one of his hands around your waist and the other holding yours against him.

“You’ve done amazing.” He whispered into your hair, deciding that speaking at a normal volume would ruin the moment. “I mean, I knew you would, especially after seeing you plan our wedding.”

“Oh shush.” Your words implied annoyance, but your tone said something else entirely as you hid your face in his chest.

“I’m serious - you’re brilliant at this kind of stuff.” He kissed the top of your head, “did you have fun?”

“I did, actually. It kept me nice and busy.”

“Is it too early to ask you for a Christmas one?” You pulled back slightly, looking at him with your brow furrowed.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously! I can see it now - the living room a Santa’s grotto, you in a sexy Mrs Claus costume.” You scoffed at that.

“I’ll think about it.” You answered him, tucking yourself back under his chin. Truly, you didn’t want the moment to end. Sure, you loved organising an event like this or your wedding. But really, your favourite thing about the entire ordeal was this - the moment with your lover after a success, calming down after a vivacious evening, ready to climb into bed and spent the rest of the night cuddled tightly in each other’s arms.

Like this? You can find my smaus here and my drabbles and other fiics here!

Do you have a request? You can find my rules for requesting here!

[dc418writes]

I Hope You Cry for Me Like I Cry for You…

✨Pairing✨: John Stewartxblack!reader

Summary🪄: Not everything is as John left it. Certainly not you (AU)

🚨: 18+ NO MINORS!!, angst, technical breaking and entering (but we let it slide this time), brief mention of unprotected past happy adult fun times (everyone please be safe out there!), p in v, brief mentions of nudity, bits of fluff mixed in (it’s me so you already know lol)

Fic inspo: (loosely inspired by)

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP or pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest*

Gently landing on the lush grass, John instantly feels a calmness wash over him that only the familiar single story farmhouse could grant. Even from the outside he could already feel your presence from the bed of colorful flowers just below the porch. The wind chime gently swaying in the evening breeze creating a bright melody that somehow embodied you.

He’s careful climbing the three steps to the creaky porch that groans under his weight. Using your spare under the leg of your favorite rocking chair, John enters the quiet home immediately hit with the clean smell of detergent mixed with something citrus. Probably that one candle you loved and kept stocked as if you’d never see another one again.

“A whole case?,” John asked placing the wooden box in the bed of his truck. He should’ve known you didn’t just want to ‘look around’ that day at the farmer’s market when you made a direct bee-line to a cutely decorated table displaying homemade lotions and balms.

“I’m supporting a friend,” you shrugged. A hint of guilt in your brown eyes like a child getting caught stealing a freshly baked cookie after being told to wait.

The man just chuckled with a shake of his head before placing a soft kiss to your glossy lips.

John knows this is a bad idea, he shouldn’t even be on Earth - due to Galaxy 515-1 to check on a possible threat - yet he couldn’t stay away. It’s already been a year since he last saw you, and he’s honestly surprised he lasted that long. On the outside, he remained the calm and focused military man he was trained to be. Yet internally, every cell in his body craved you. Every night thoughts of you filled his mind and flooded his dreams. The distractions of a busy day no longer present to suppress his aching emotions. Sometimes, he’d go for another jog - and another, and another - until his body was exhausted enough to demand sleep of him. Other times he’d just lie there with all the feelings.

Picture the moments between the two of you that he’d never let himself forget.

“That one’s my favorite,” a soft, harmonious voice speaks causing John to look away from the galaxy projected on the wall in front of him. Long braids stopping just above your hips, your eyes sparkled as if they were stars themselves. The purple, pink, and orange from the display illuminating your soft skin and beautiful features made you look ethereal; as if you were the one from a different planet or galaxy.

“Spring’s Spiral,” you softly smile and John can feel a pleasant stab to his heart. “When I have time and need a pick me up, I’ll just watch and watch until I feel better.”

Hopefully you never found out about its inhabitants. For such a peaceful looking galaxy, its creatures were war hungry, tending to fight each other over the smallest of issues.

“It is beautiful,” he agrees begrudgingly willing himself to look back at the projection to not seem like a staring creep. “You come often?”

You nod, “mainly because I work here, but even if I didn’t I’d probably be here everyday.”

“That big a fan of space huh?”

“Yea, and museums in general.” Since you were a child, you always loved them spending all day walking through the halls filled with all sorts of artifacts and paintings. The space section was your favorite by far though enjoying the twinkling ‘stars’ hanging from the ceiling and life-sized model of the solar system. Many nights - when you gazed at the stars outside of your own room - you wished you could live in the museum so you’d have endless access.

Years later, that dream somewhat came true. That unlimited access restricted to your hour lunch break though.

“Sorry,” you nervously smile taking half a step back. Then another. “I’m just yappin’ away interrupting your time-,”

“You’re good,” he waves off. If his voice wasn’t enough to make you melt, that magazine worthy smile was the knockout punch. “It’s always nice to meet someone with similar interests.”

When his dark brown eyes meet yours, you feel your breath hitch in your throat as your heart skips a beat. How could they be so intense yet soft and welcoming all once?

“It is.”

From that day forth, you were inseparable. He’d visit with you at the museum for lunch, then you’d meet for dinner. On your off days, you took turns planning little dates around town whether it was a picnic or stargazing until your lids became too heavy to keep open.

And each moment with you, he could feel himself falling deeper and deeper.

His next step across your dark wood floor is met with a small whimper making him halt in place. He’d think maybe it was just his mind if not for the same whimper sounding again followed by a cough moments later. Headed towards the source, he can feel his heart quicken and dread begin to flow through his veins hoping he wouldn’t find what he believed to be true.

Finally reaching the doorway of what used to be your personal library, he instead finds dark blue walls of a nursery. Specifically, one fit for a baby boy. Painted white clouds lined the area just above the crib fitted with a heather gray sheet and a miniature blanket displaying the phases of the moon. The other wall held the changing table along with a tall, hand built closet for his clothes. The name ‘Jordan’ painted in colorful letters on one door while the other had stars of various sizes.

You moved on.

You found someone new; had the family you’d always wanted. The part of John that wanted the best for you was happy and hoped your new man loved you the way you deserved. But he couldn’t lie that his chest ached that it wasn’t him. Could feel a crack grow in his heart that he couldn’t give you the life you dreamed.

“It’s for the best,” he thought to himself as he caught a glimpse of his uniformed reflection in the window across from him. Was reminded of the Green Lantern Corps and how his new obligation was the wellbeing of the universe. He started to leave - his ring glowing to harness what he needed from his power - but Jordan’s whines made him pause. His feet carrying him closer to the wooden crib before he could change his mind.

The baby was beautiful. Silky, black, curly hair peeked from under the cap covering his head while his tiny hands rubbed against his cute button nose. Deep dimples appeared in his cheeks from his worsening cries and long, curled lashes fluttered over deep ebony eyes similar to yours. Overall he was perfect.

“Shh,” John gently cooed trying to calm him down, and surprisingly he did for a moment cocking his little head to the side to get a better look at the giant of a man above him. John softly smiled at the baby boy, beginning to reach a hesitant hand toward him until incoming footfalls made him immediately turn invisible as he moved to the corner of the room.

“What’s wrong baby boy?,” you ask as soon as you enter the doorway looking just as gorgeous as the day he left. Admittedly, maybe more with the afterglow of having recently given birth. “Hungry already?”

As if understanding, Jordan’s little legs wiggle and kick making you tiredly giggle as you pick up the three-month-old. “Midnight special coming up.”

He should leave. He caught his glimpse of you and saw you were fine - John’s ultimate goal of this visit. But a glimpse wasn’t enough anymore. After going so long without, he became greedy wanting to soak up as much time as he could with you.

“So I saw your titi today,” you begin after settling into the cushioned rocker. Jordan immediately latched to your breast with his hand in the center of your chest and wide eyes trained on you. “As you could expect, she didn’t come empty handed so you’ll see your presents tomorrow. Promise.”

Jordan’s grunt nearly makes John chuckle at how responsive he was already. Little man was more intelligent than any infant he’d been around. Human or otherworldly.

“Don’t gimme that, I said I promise,” you smile smoothing the back of your finger over his cheek. “We talked and ate. I showed her the pictures from the park the other day, which she loved. Everything was good…and of course he came up.”

At the mention of a ‘he’, John’s ears perk and a protectiveness overwhelms him. Who was he? What did he do? Did he hurt you? Or Jordan?

“She says I should let him go. That he’s just some player who had his fun and is probably on to the next. She also said some other stuff, but I won’t repeat that in front of you.”

This time a heavy sigh leaves his nostrils and you swear you see him try to roll eyes. “Um excuse you, attitude,” you giggle. His dimples deepen as he briefly smiles before resuming his late night snack.

“Looking at the facts I know she’s right..but my heart won’t let him go..and honestly I don’t want to.” Milk dribbling from his mouth and hazy eyes signal your son’s impending milk coma. Like most babies he tries to fight it as you reposition him on your shoulder to burp, but you both know that’ll only last so long.

“I mean he can’t be all that bad,” you say mostly to yourself bouncing and gently patting Jordan’s back until a couple soft burps fill the quiet of the room making a soft, yet sad, smile paint your full lips. “He gave me you right?”

Placing a kiss to his forehead, you’re careful to return him to his crib trying not to disrupt his newfound sleep. As you gaze at your beautiful boy, you can’t help but think of John - as you did most nights. Wonder if he was okay. Had he truly just used you as a temporary toy.

You might seem crazy to others, but you felt he’d come back to you. In the depths of your soul knew he still loved you just as you did him.

“John would love you so much J.”

“I have to leave,” John states in a near whisper causing you to pause the movie on your screen.

“Oh okay.” Rather than the usual wide smile you’d grown to love, you see the gloom in his eyes. Can feel a shift in his once easy going mood that has your brows furrowed in concern and instantly caressing his smooth cheek. “Hey we can watch the rest later, no worries.”

“By leave I mean for an extended time…I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“Oh..,” is all you can manage to say as your stomach sinks lower than you’d ever think it could go. “Top secret military stuff?”

He nods covering your hand with his. He didn’t want to lose your touch. The way it was like a live wire leaving him with tingles and a warmth he’d grown to crave like it was oxygen. “When do you leave?”

“0600 tomorrow morning.”

“Wow…that soon huh?,” you attempt to joke, but it doesn’t translate in your eyes. John can clearly see your hurt and disappointment. It has guilt spreading throughout his chest causing an adjoining lump in his throat.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you manage to softly smile when everything in you wanted to crumble. Your thumb tracing along his cheekbone - and his along your wrist - calming you enough to keep your tears at bay.

Wasn’t it his fault though? John was supposed to keep a low profile strictly focused on guarding this portion of the universe. His home. Yet he fell for you. Wanted to wake up to you every morning and be there when you closed your eyes to sleep after a long day. Envisioned that intimate normalcy he knew he couldn’t give. Now he was breaking your heart because of his selfishness.

Loosening your hand to reach for your neck, John watches you remove your gold four leaf clover pendant before leaning forward.

“Wait,” he says as you fasten the thin chain around his neck admiring the gold as it shined against his near caramel skin. “I can’t.” He couldn’t take what was probably your most prized possession. Even you said yourself you couldn’t live without it.

“Something not only for luck,” you sniffle, “but to help bring us back together…whether in this life or the next.”

Before either tear from you or John could fall, his lips crash against yours trying to savor their feel and peach taste. It’s the most passionate, tender kiss you’ve ever had that, although perfect, only makes more tears flow from your cheeks to his.

The need to be wrapped in each other for as long as you can has neither of you thinking as hands wandered and groped causing moans and whimpers to flow out to the open air. Removed any and all annoying articles of clothing that were now too constricting. And when John eventually slides into you so deep it’s as if he’s linked directly to your soul, your brain completely empties only focused how good he’s making you feel pushing in and pulling out so deliciously paced.

That’s how you spent the whole night, taking turns resting and indulging in each other. The next morning you awoke having been moved to your bed with no sign of John. He thought it better that way - more so for his sake than yours.

And now he had a son. A baby boy he wasn’t there to welcome into the world nor be there for you during your pregnancy. The weight of it all has him sinking to the floor with a hand over his thudding heart - and your pendant - watching as you left the room for sleep yourself.

There was joy mixed in though, knowing you both were happy and doing well. That you still loved him and hadn’t given up. After what seems like an hour, he’s finally able to stand - no longer invisible - stepping towards the crib to gaze one more time at the incredible being you both created. He dares even reach out like before, but this time smoothing the back his finger along Jordan’s outstretched arm.

“She’s right little man,” he whispers. “I love you and your mother. So much. And I promise this isn’t the last you’ll hear or see me.”

[asphodelles]

Hi, I found your work on Twitter last year and I really love and look up to your art. If you have the time, I wanted to as if there are there any study topics, artists or techniques that have significantly influenced you :')

I'm at a bit of a complete loss on what to study presently so I thought I'd ask my favorite artists, thank you for reading and I completely understand if this is too open ended a question

Thank you!

This isn't the first time I have been asked this question and I suspect this won't be the last so I'll just lay everything out here. Go to a cafe or get a blanket or something because this will not be a short read:

Foundational:

Anatomy: A lot of my foundational anatomy and clothing illustration knowledge was gained from taking classes and doing observational drawing. Because of this, I'm not going to have the best book recommendations but top 2 books I can recommend for getting Started started are Andrew Loomis or RockHe Kim's books on anatomy (huge asterisk here: they're good at teaching you Basics basics like muscle groups and turning forms and extremely general proportions but will not help that much with making your figure drawings less stiff or how to draw fat or especially in the latter's case how to draw women not built like stick bug anime girls but uh I heard the Morpho books are pretty good. genuinely everything I know about drawing fat is from observational drawing/studies because at some point I got sick of my school for only hiring skinny models in their 20s-30s). I have some diagrams drawn by my friend who studied the hell out of these guys below:

Clothing: I don't know any books that can really help on this front I apologize if I find any I'll update this post but pretty much all of my knowledge on drawing clothes boils down to the following rules: Where are the tension points, how stiff or soft is the textile, how is the form underneath the section of clothing behaving, and don't make even spaces between fold groups

All of this is kind of moot though if it isn't applied through study or observational drawing though

Design:

I have to be really careful here because I don't want to deal in absolutes, the only absolute I'm confident espousing is that anyone who tells you there is only a small selection of methods you should follow to execute a specific type of design are objectively incorrect and just haven't figured out alternative if not more effective design solutions to a common problem. The only real Worst Thing I think you could do as a designer is create a pinterest mannequin devoid of a story, disconnected from its context in the world, and lacking in a clear purpose/personality but this too could be easily be disputed if maximising a character’s aesthetic appeal serves a purpose in its context, and my opposition to this design approach is my personal bias as a character designer for entertainment where emphasizing a character’s function and their relationship to said function is usually the goal

I think the 5 best pieces of advice I've ever received when it comes to designing characters are the following:

Try and follow the rule of thirds/general gestalt design principles of contrast

Always consider what it is you're trying to communicate with the character

Create believable transitions and reinforcements between points of interest

(Entertainment related) KISS principle/Keep It Simple, Stupid is your friend, the way a character wears or wields what they wear or wield will communicate their role in the world (who are they?), their relationship to their role (do they like their job? are they good at it? are they a part of an organization with the means to provide them things to perform their role more effectively?) effectively enough. Excessive information that bloats and conflicts with the communication objective weakens design (example: My favourite childhood toy for years was a pokemon plushie. Would I as a stay at home digital artist be wearing it as a keychain on my crusty paint stained polyester pajama pants when I'm at my desk working my job? is wearing it relevant to my character as a person who both no longer is invested in pokemon and is in this context focused entirely on comfort and doing my job? (no)). I think Elden Ring is an excellent example of a game that has visually complex designs but pretty expedient storytelling with its characters for worldbuilding

Study things that aren't just character design, to borrow from Lynn Yaeger borrowing from Sally Singer "If you're interested in fashion learn everything except fashion... Politics, art, painting- anything except fashion". Because people in different disciplines who work with different mediums or fields of study approach problems in different angles you may not have considered which can help give new ideas + often times the stuff you like was inspired by stuff that isn't at all what you would expect or enjoy yourself (To pull from a very popular example, Arcane is a League of Legends joint which was highly influenced by Warcraft which was highly influenced by Warhammer which was basically a giant response to western pop culture of the 1960s and the history of European warfare something something coconut tree).

Character design is kind of a hard thing to Get Good at considering how much of the actual process is super psychological/not bound by a *ton* of absolutes and has to account for medium and function (you kind of just have to have The Sauce) so I don't recommend Just studying independently only (possible, just very difficult). If you can and are interested in learning more about the specifics take some classes taught by people whose styles you fw who both know what they're doing and are good at explaining their process. For design for entertainment you can always check out Concept Design Academy or The Workshop Academy and see who's teaching there

As far as artist inspirations are concerned I think looking up the artists who worked on projects you like are a good starting point to figure out how you want to stylize. Going off of that at least currently my favourite designers/illustrators for entertainment with The Sauce are probably Evening Monteiro, Sergey Kolesov, Mindy Lee, Tonci Zonjic, Sasha Tudvaseva, Claire Hummel, and Yoshitaka Amano

My favourite book currently for tackling character design at least from a narrative consideration is probably Talking Threads: Costume Design for Entertainment Art (one of the authors is my friend and an excellent teacher!) and a lot of the stuff they espouse really helps to take into consideration individual and external factors when designing a character/how they can be used as vehicles for both individual storytelling and worldbuilding, gigantic reference point for my most recent casual project

Besides that the only other way I can really recommend studying character design is to just look at art, history, architecture, nature (pretty much Everything) and think about how ideas and concepts from those things can be applied to or communicated through a design or figure out what it was about a design or designs you like made it appealing

uhh tldr this is just how i as one among millions of artists got to where i am today as of January 16th 2025 my word is not gospel the advice I espoused here may very well spell my downfall tomorrow