#TO WHAT COLOR AM I DYED THE SIZE OF THE DYED THING CHANGES BECAUSE OF THE DYED COLOR

[minothtime]

I'm trying to translate DYE by AVTechNO! from english to english and jesus fucking christ on a monoceros it's so fucking hard

[rosesloveletters]

Flame in the Dark.

pairing: John Milton x Fem. Reader

word count: 6,019

warnings: language, smut, irreverent use of religion/religious terminology (come on, he’s Satan, what am I supposed to do?)

summary: This was why you came to him, after all, because he could give you things that no one else could. // Just because you had difficulty coming to terms with an unattached sexual encounter did not mean that he did and he was showing you the way…

author’s note: whew! I didn’t thought this would ever see the light of day, but I’m pleased to finally have something to post for my readers. I haven’t written smut in almost two years, so please be kind. I’ve been dying to write for John Milton since I saw the Devil’s Advocate last summer and I’ve finally done it! Enjoy!

edited.

gif credit: miss-kt on tumblr

She is more precious than jewels, and nothing you desire can compare with her. Long life is in her right hand; in her left hand are riches and honor. Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace. She is a tree of life to those who lay hold of her; those who hold her fast are called happy. Proverbs 3:15-18.

There were only two separate sounds which reached your ears that you could discern amid the other thoughts vying in strict competition for the same recognition inside your mind: your gentle breathing and the crackling fireplace, which had cast the otherwise dimly lit room in an otherworldly orange glow. The space itself was cold and so you had taken up residency on the hearth beside the roaring blaze. Your gaze was trained on the flickering flames as they waltzed to an inaudible ballad, the delicate way in which they moved was a beautiful contrast to its highly destructive nature. You were mesmerized by it; your dilated pupils reflected their dance and the amber color illuminated your face in the dark. You had stepped into a realm of nonexistence and the cold air made your lungs ache. You ignored it, but the way your body shuddered betrayed you. The fire was warm; You were stood so close that you might as well be kindling, combustible under the intensity of the heat which radiated from the burning flames, yet the shivers that traveled down your spine never ceased. Perhaps your physical form had not acclimated itself to the change in temperature or it was the result of something far more sinister.

It was the sort of feeling that manifested from desire, of watching or of being watched, and being forced to remain impassive. The minor irritation turned frustratingly urgent, desperate were you to scratch that itch, to placate the tide rising within you and return to calmer waters. To suppress it any longer put one’s fragile psyche under far too much distress and discomfort.

It was where temptation met physicality, when seeing was no longer satisfaction. The only thing that was enough to satiate the fire burning on the inside was to act on it. The need made you shudder; nothing short of being burned alive would be enough to save your soul this time.

You could sense him watching from across the room. A carefully trained ear could pick up the nearly imperceptible clinking of ice cubes inside a glass as it was being raised to a pair of smirking lips. You didn’t need to turn around to know for certain that his eyes were on you. He sized you up from across the room while he fixed himself a drink, observing you whilst sipping casually.

It was slightly unnerving when he didn’t talk; you were used to his eloquence, but mostly the lack thereof. It was his irreverence that turned you on and when he did not speak it always meant the same thing: now was the time for action and impulse. He would talk, when he was ready; John Milton loved to talk, never at a loss for what to say.

It appeared he always knew what you were thinking and these instances seemed to play out at the direction of your inner monologue each time the pair of you came together; if one thing was for certain, it was that sex with John Milton was always a passionate, carnal affair.

If you were comfortable, he carried out acts at the height of human depravity; you were safe to explore that side with him.

He wore arrogance like armor that made him invincible, but this was more than what it seemed. This was self-indulgence at its finest and you were enamored by the endless possibilities which had been presented to you over the course of your employment at Milton, Chadwick and Waters.

This law firm was far from ordinary and you had sensed it on your first day, so why were you here? The atmosphere was impersonal yet the walls around you seemed to breathe; you had come here far too often to be offput by it.

God rest your soul, there was some compulsivity which had driven you to repeat the same mistakes and that was your heaven. Walking through those doors and into the office that belonged to the head of the firm was comparable to coming home to your Lord and revisiting the church after a lengthy sabbatical. Even if you were not religious by any means, there was a reason your mind went there. Stained glass windows in your mind opened onto the city and purified your thoughts but even that would not be enough to cause you to repent.

The part of you that belonged to him called you and tempted you further and further from the light. It was dark here, sans the fire burning in the gloom; Milton’s face was illuminated, yet there was a darkness within him no light cast upon his physical form would diminish.

“Come, now,” Milton’s voice in your ear made you turn and look at him, only to find him still standing behind his desk though you could have sworn it sounded like he was directly at your back. You suppressed a shiver as he regarded you and his eyes seemed to smirk, “have a drink with me.”

His dark eyes glittered in the light of the fire and he smiled in your direction, but there was a malicious edge to it which warned ominously ‘tread carefully.’

You ignored his request, “Why do I keep coming here, Mr. Milton?”

The head of the firm barked a sharp laugh like how he was prone to do and you forced yourself not to jump at the sudden sound, “I asked you to, dear,” he answered, conveniently sidestepping the response he had to know you sought, “You are welcome to go home after hours if you want, in fact, it’s strongly encouraged!”

Then, as an afterthought, “And please, call me John.”

He had asked you, hadn’t he? That was right; he had caught you in the hall earlier in the day and, when one thing led to another, he invited you to his office after working hours to have a drink with him. You knew how it happened, just not why. What purpose had you for coming here?

The repetitiveness played to your senses and yet you did not know what drew you here, “John,” you corrected yourself as you addressed him by name; the weight of it on your tongue felt heavy and tasted metallic like blood, “I know you invited me. I just don’t know why I’m standing here in front of you when I could be on my way home.”

He poured the liquid into a crystal glass without taking his eyes off you, “it’s tricky,” he said, “do you want to be here or would you like to go home?”

You couldn’t tell if he was being patronizing or not as you approached his desk and reached for the glass he offered you, “I would say that I wouldn’t be here unless I wanted to be,” you started, “but sometimes I feel like I have no control over my own actions. That might seem strange to you.”

“Not strange at all,” he reassured you as he sank down into the chair behind his desk, eyes never straying from their subtle assessment of you, “‘No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind’. You make your own decisions, darling, but I can’t say I’m not pleased that you decided to spend the evening with me after all.”

‘I only set the stage. You pull your own strings.’

It was not the first time you had done this. Temptation led you here, into your own personal garden of Eden where the serpent laid in wait to pour its poison into your ear. It was your choice to make, yet each time you entered John’s office did you forfeit your free will. That was not the case, because you could leave at any time; you were holding yourself captive and the God’s honest truth was that you loved that feeling.

The smirk on John’s face grew as you gulped down the alcohol he had poured for you and you winced imperceptibly as the liquid scorched a path of fire down your throat; suffering felt religious when done right and you craved it every time you came to him.

Milton regarded you appreciatively as you perched on the edge of his desk. He was thrilled that you were so trusting the first time you had come to him and that he was the only one with permission to fuck you. You had not explicitly said those words to him, but heaven help the poorest of poor souls who might try, because hell sure wouldn’t.

He let those thoughts steep in his mind as he mulled over the connotations; you kept coming here because you wantedhim to fuck you, but nothing of such great magnitude was ever that simple.  

“I’m glad I did too,” you answered him, “I was almost afraid I wouldn’t have the nerve to set foot in here again.”

“Why is that?” he asked the question like he was interested in the answer.

“Well…” you ventured, “after the last time, I-”

“Nonsense!” John waved away your insecurities like they were no more than a cloud of bothersome smoke wreathed around his head, “You’ve got to let go of that vacillation. Do you want to know what I think?”

You knew that he was going to tell you without even having to ask or venture a guess, so you remained silent for his explanation.

“You enjoyed yourself the last time. Didn’t you?” Milton asked, “always knew you were going to come back because you just couldn’t get far enough away from that ache you get in your core when I put you over my desk and worship you better than any one of God’s precious children does in church on Easter Sunday.”

This was no religious experience; John Milton was a crisis of your faith and without him would you have remained devout to that same hollow existence, devoid of pleasures many sought after only to deny themselves of and condemn those who did not. You had not thought of it that way before. Something about this man was strangely religious even if the deeds he engaged in were anything but.

Milton’s gaze never wavered or strayed far from yours as he got to his feet and parted your legs which were previously pressed together on the sturdy desk made of polished wood; your core throbbed at his words as you had begun to ache with need at the turn of the conversation. He was right: that feeling his words gave went straight to the place between your legs and there was nothing you could do to stop it from happening. It was no secret that your boss held power over your body and the reactions he drew from it both unnerved and excited you.

Milton placed one hand on either of your shoulders and with your knees apart, he stood between your parted legs, “you can leave, if you want,” he leaned close to whisper hotly in your ear, “but you and I both know you don’t really want to do that.”

His fingertips played with the hem of your skirt, tantalizingly dancing between fabric and flesh as he caressed you reverently. The dress code at the law firm dictated your appearance and attire; it was no secret as to why.

“How do you know what I want?”

The question made him smirk as though he were enjoying some private little joke with himself before he answered, “the same way I know what every person wants. We all want what’s been forbidden from us, to taste what our palates can’t handle only to prove that we can,” with one hand, he reached to cup your cheek, “you can. This can be whatever you want it to. Don’t pressure yourself to come up with a reason for it when you don’t need one.”

The dance you did with John was one of elegant footwork and aligned movements. A casual hookup for sins of the flesh, but it did not matter. You came to him all the same, for all the reasons you did not need or want; sex for the sake of sex…what a concept.

You were the one who closed the gap between your bodies, bringing your lips to John’s as you felt his smirk widen and his hand slid up the length of your thigh. The warm hand stopped at your panties and as you kissed, it began to explore. He made an appreciative noise as his fingers probed further; the barrier between your core and Milton’s fingers was already wet with your desire and that pleased him.

Suddenly, both of his hands were under your skirt, slowly stripping you of your thin undergarment and you broke the kiss to watch him do so. You let him slide your cotton panties down your legs until they fell to the office floor and he grinned at you wolfishly. You wanted to be furious that someone should have this much control over your body, but your brain translated fury into passion and that fueled the hellfire within you that succumbed to temptation so easily.

John’s fingers were back and that warm hand worked its magic on your clit, teasing your precious bud of nerves until it pearled under his skilled ministrations. Your body responded to his touch in a way almost inhuman. You let your boss forwardly grope you and fondle your most sensitive area as he teased you into submission.

You arched your back, fingers clenching the arm of his pristine suit and he chuckled devilishly at your reaction, “well, that was easy,” he commented with a breathy laugh, “don’t hold back, honey. That must feel good. Well, better than just ‘good’, I’d say. I’ve been around the block a time or two if you know what I mean.”

Your thighs quivered and it took severe perseverance not to spread them apart further in eager appreciation and with the demand for more, faster. Milton’s fingertip circled your clit as he played with the notion of perhaps giving you what you so desired.

Not until the length of his fingers sunk inside you did you cry out in bliss. Your sharp cries were music to his ears; whatever he had to do to hear more of them, he would gladly oblige.

John preferred to have sex in the pitch black. The fact that you couldn't rely on your eyes and had to use touch and sound rather than visualize what was happening interested him and kept him engaged. The only light in the room was from the fire and even the flickering flames were not enough to brighten his side of the room at such a distance.

John was all about pleasure. He truly would worship you because that was what kept you coming back to him. He loved the noises you made when he kissed his way down your stomach and how your body reacted to his warm lips, raising goosebumps on your skin. He delighted in your quiet moans of pleasure and the way your breathing changed with every pinch and knead of his hands.

Even if you couldn't see him, he could see you.

Milton scissored the two fingers he had within your warm wetness. If he was shocked by how wet you were from the penetration, he did not mention it. He had seen it all, but even so, he took none of it for granted.

You were near to collapsing onto his desk from the effort of remaining upright while he fingered you, “John…” you moaned his name breathily, “oh…oh, God…”

Milton scoffed as he doubled down, pressing his thumb hard against your clit and making you shriek with pleasure, “God… That’s who you’re thinking about right now, God? My hand is between your legs and you’re thinking about God? Because, last time I checked, He’s not going to get down off His throne in heaven to give you any relief. Don’t say His name again. I don’t see Him here.”

In this state you were uncertain of the truth behind his words and you did not care to know. His vehement request would not be ignored, but the only thing you needed now was John’s touch, his hands, his mouth, him.

“John!” You gasped, repeating his name like a sacred prayer and this seemed to satisfy him. John spread you apart, pulled daringly at your seams until you unraveled for him. He had learned what excited you and what made you incoherent with a fervent ache. He learned to interpret all those barely perceptible changes in your voice and the inflection of your moans and he knew precisely what he needed to do to give you orgasm.

But you were not coming yet.

John extracted his fingers from your warmth and you whimpered from how sensitive you were. A force beyond your control seemed to draw your eyes to his visage as he lifted his hand to his lips and crudely licked his fingers clean of your juices.

Unable to remain steady in your sitting position any longer, you allowed yourself a reprieve and fell back upon his desk. You laid spread for him like an alter sacrifice that John would use to further break the laws of God.

He helped himself to your body, a simple flick of the wrist and he had removed your blouse. With only your bra to cover your chest, you arched your back enticingly and reached for him, “John, touch me…” you gasped, wanting to run your hands through his hair and rip him apart like he was doing to you. You wanted to drive him insane with arousal; you wanted him hungry for you.

Milton swiftly removed your bra and exposed your tits. He squeezed and kneaded the soft mounds of flesh on your chest and pinched your nipples between his dexterous fingers. The stimulation made you squirm and squeal, feeling a flood of juices gush from your center as your pussy throbbed with renewed vigor.

You pushed your breasts further into his hands and your mouth fell open when he finally engulfed one hard nipple in his mouth, comparable to how he had done with your clit. His thumb gently caressed and rubbed the other nipple until you had tears streaming down your face, “John!” you screamed his name and suddenly was he taken aback by how loud you were being for him …he loved it.

He knew all too well how sensitive your breasts were; teasing both of your nipples to hardness was too easy.

Milton moved quickly from your breasts and, without giving you more than a moment or two to recover, he dropped to his knees, pulled you closer by your hips and swiped his tongue over your clit.

You squealed and twisted in his grip, but his hands kept you pinned against the desk. You were not getting away from him.

His tongue probed your glistening folds and penetrated your pussy to taste directly from the source. The longer he lapped at your fruit, the closer to release you became and he knew it; you were ripe and ready to be devoured.

“Oh, John!” you cried, “Please! Please, please…”

He loved when you begged with delirious rapture, delighting in the knowledge that you were ready to burst but couldn’t quite get there until he relented. You were close to tears, bound in raw and excruciating arousal and ready to cum at any second.

Making you cum was the most erotic reward of them all.

You could be tricky but he never had to work too hard to get you off. You were not used to such gratifying sex. The tricks Milton used were unfair, to say the least, but as his tongue currently plunged into you, you did not really give a damn. This was why you came to him, after all, because he could give you things that no one else could.

Perhaps it would change when he got you acclimated to having sex with him on a regular basis, but for now, your desires were being fulfilled the way you wanted and you were going to soak up every solitary second.

Even though you were very different people, when you came together like this, you fit like two centerpieces of a puzzle, even if Milton’s edges were jagged.

“John!” your sharp cry of his name came as a warning, “Fuck! I’m going to cum! Please…please!!”

He loved teasing you, driving you to the very edge only to leave you teetering on the precipice of that sweet release until you sobbed for it but he never pushed you over until he was ready for you to take that final plunge.

He loved to keep you guessing what his next move might be; you would whimper in despair when you were about to come, only for him to ease off you and grin in the dark when you groaned his name in frustration.

This time when he did, he made amends by gently kissing your inner thighs, aware of how sensitive the skin was there and he laughed at how your pussy was clenching around nothing, “aren’t you something?” he mused as he took in the sight of you laid there, his for the taking, “you must like what you’re receiving, since you don’t seem to be in any hurry to head for the door.”

You weren’t leaving until you got what you came for. You had known what you wanted from the moment John invited you here and it was foolish to deny yourself acknowledgement of that. He must’ve known, otherwise why else were you here? You were involved in a complicated relationship with the head of this law firm but, as he had said before, it did not have to be.

Just because you had difficulty coming to terms with an unattached sexual encounter did not mean that he did and he was showing you the way…

“John, please…” you whined, “I need you to fuck me.”

Nothing turned him on as much as your delectable moans and pleas. He wanted to touch and taste you for all of eternity.

John ceased his assault on your body and he peered down at you with satisfaction for your readiness for him, “alright, alright. I’ve had my fun, but you also seemed to like it,” he laughed as this time he used words to tease you, “but let’s get down to business, shall we?”

You hauled yourself into a sitting position once more and pulled John closer to you by his tie. Your hungry insistence made him laugh as he unbuckled his belt, “take it easy, darling” he cooed and patted your hair, “we’re going to get to the good stuff. It’s coming, don’t you worry.”

The air was cold inside of this room, but the passion John had ignited within you burned your skin. You were not usually this desperate; whatever it was that had taken hold of you here was relentless and even if you chose to fight against it would have been to no avail. There were unseen forces working against you and the choices you made led you deeper into this cycle of moral and physical degradation. You did not care how needy you seemed. If Milton had wished it, you would have been on your knees, and not in prayer, in a heartbeat.

Milton kissed you feverishly and almost as if he had heard your thoughts, he said, “there will be a time for that, but for now, your pleasure is mine.”

Under normal circumstances, that would have frightened you, but in your current state there was the possibility that you had unintentionally said your thoughts out loud. You were not in control of yourself, driven to carnality by the incessant urging of your boss and the things he was doing to your body and to your mind.

He unzipped his pants and you gasped as you hung onto him, giving in to desire as you kissed his jaw and neck. You wanted to kiss across every inch of that man’s body and if he really could read your thoughts then he knew that already, so half the work was done for you.

He had prepared you well and it was time to deliver; there was no time like the present.

“Lay down for me, darling,” he crooned, tilting his head and pressed a kiss to your temple.

You did as you were told, allowing him to help you lower yourself back onto his desk. His hands were warm on your skin and his touch was gentle; with your skirt rucked up and your top missing, you looked like a renaissance painting and John Milton was the artist.

John could have had any casual partner he wanted, but what interested him was not merely sex but the corruption. He wanted you, body and soul, to belong to him.

He never would have thought you capable of the level of intensity at which you fucked. He had never fucked so lasciviously and brutal with anyone like you and he had had more sex in this lifetime than he would have willingly admitted to you just yet. It was animalistic and licentious, loud and sweaty and at times he believed he had gone too far and was being too rough. But you were up for almost anything if it was with him.

It could have been soft and delicate, gentle and sweet in a way he rarely experienced. You could have spent hours together, cuddling, making love and kissing passionately, exploring each other’s bodies with rapt curiosity. It was moments like these, when Milton’s cock bore into you and you cried out for more of him, that he realized he could have taken all he wanted from you and you would have given it up without a fight. Humans were weak, he reasoned, at least their resolve was. That was the beauty of it: you were a pawn in his unending chess game with God, locked in a battle he could not win but would never stop trying. This made it worth every failure.

You, squirming beneath him as he gripped the backs of your thighs to hold you in position while he fucked you mercilessly. Every moan, gasp and call of his name stroked the ego of this vain fallen angel. You knew not what you did, how could you be to blame, but that was not the way things worked; Milton was using you for his own gain and you wanted him to destroy you.

You rolled your hips against his, but the brutal rhythm he maintained was far too much for you to keep up with. You panted with the exertion and John’s evil grin manifested in your view, “you alright, sweetheart?” he asked like you were merely having a conversation instead of your pussy being pounded relentlessly on your boss’s desk, “nothing you can’t handle, isn’t that right?”

You tried to respond but your vocal cords would not work beyond moans of pleasure and the occasional soft cry; you were so damn close.

John suddenly smacked your thigh and you screamed, “fuck!”

Seemingly pleased with your reaction, he chuckled as he thrust into you harder than before. You had never been fucked so thoroughly before and in the haze did you recognize your good judgement and how good it felt to finally let it all go. You had come here for a reason and this was it. John was your reprieve from the rest of the world, a righteous testament against what so many stood for and he would break down those same walls within you. He was proud of what he did; if not for his hands in many different pies within the law firm he joint-owned, this was the reason he came to work every day.

You needed redemption for your sins, but you did bad things for the sake these good times.

“John…” your breathy moan had his attention in an instant, though his pace never slowed. The expression on your face alerted him to your impending release and he bucked into you harder, angling himself within you to reach your sweetest spots and maximize your pleasure.

He stayed inside of you as you came. In the moment before you climaxed, he reached between your legs and massaged your clit through the intense release of pent-up tension. You screamed his name to the gods as the waves of your orgasm washed over you, radiating upwards through your body from your convulsing center.

Your pussy always clenched so tightly around him and sometimes you even squirted. It had happened previously when you masturbated alone, only once or twice, so it always came as a nice surprise at the end. You never thought another person would ever make you feel this good; something about John Milton simply was not human.

The mess that you had been reduced to was pleasing to the head of the firm and he was satisfied to let you lie there as he pounded into you, chasing his own release that he so thoroughly deserved after your own had overtaken you at his behest.

You were limp beneath him, hardly registering what was happening, only that this onslaught on your senses was welcome; you knew you would have a difficult time walking after John was finished with you.

Milton lost himself in your fall from grace and he had no regrets for what he had done here.

Hellbent, the reckless one.

He came inside you with a growl, pumping you full of his seed as it mixed with your own cum until the stickiness spilled from within you. Your overstimulated pussy twitched and your legs quivered as John let go of you. Before you regained your composure enough to sit up, though you were still rather shaky, John had cleaned off, zipped himself up and was buckling his belt again before he attended to you.

“Satisfied?” he asked as he grabbed your undergarments off the floor for you.

You nodded and your head felt like it was full of cotton.

John took the handkerchief out of his breast pocket and used it to carefully wipe up your mess before he slid your panties back on enough for you to shimmy yourself back into them, then he placed your bra straps onto your shoulders, one on each arm and directed you to turn as much as you could for him so that he could latch it closed.

If he wanted you to keep coming back to him, he would have to work for it and the challenge always made it worthwhile to him.

You were straightening out your skirt as best you could while still seated when John offered your shirt to you and let you put it on yourself.

Now, he turned his attention away from you and strode across the room to the fire.

Dressed and still in desperate need, of what you knew not, you gingerly eased yourself off your boss’s desk and turned to look for him.

He was standing by the blazing fire, the flames reflecting in his dark eyes and, unbeknown to you, even though he was not looking in your direction you were still very much within his sight.

He seemed distracted by something and you were curious to know what it was.

You approached him quietly and stood at his side by the fire. Your pussy throbbed deliciously every second or two and you could feel Milton’s cum leaking from you.

He smiled at you, placing his hands on either of your shoulders and squeezing lightly like a person offering encouragement after experiencing something immensely difficult, “I don’t want to send you on your way just like that, sweetheart,” Milton kissed your cheek almost tenderly, grinning at you like a devil, “no, you deserve so much more than that.”

You leaned into him, legs bent slightly; your mind settled on the press of his lips against your skin and the sound of his voice, not on how you were going to get away from him for the night.

“Something tells me you have more to offer than what we just did over there,” he gestured back to his desk, followed by a sharp, biting laugh.

You felt yourself nodding then, unbidden, but it felt so good.

“Atta girl! I’m proud of you.”

The praise he was giving you made you blush and his hands had fallen from your shoulders to your sides as he rubbed your now fully clothed body. He dragged you against him by your hips and you felt that he was already hard again, promising fulfillment in more ways than one. His stamina was something out of fiction and it did not make sense, or perhaps it did and you were too far gone to understand.

“But you know, it is getting late,” he countered his own invitation for you to stay for more, “if you’re too tired, you can head home now. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being forced to stay here.”

If this was a test, your answer depended on it and, without thinking it through, you answered him, “I’m not tired. I’ll stay for as long as you’ll have me.”

Milton was pleased with your answer, but the only tell was in his eyes. He sighed deeply as he released you and went to sit down in one of the chairs before the fire, regarding you in the dark as though you were an exhibit that was on display for him.

“’The tongue also is a fire,” he began cryptically; quoting scripture was something Milton did often, “a world of evil among the parts of the body.’”

You were unsure of how to respond, except that you did not understand his interpretation or what reason he had for bringing it up now.

“It’s funny how ridiculous it is,” the curve of his lips was sinful as he spoke and you could not pull your eyes away from him, “that the tongue we use to eat and for addressing our fellow man is intrinsically wrong for doing so, but I suppose there’s some truth hidden there.”

You were curious what John meant by that and why he even cared. The tension in the room was thick and cloying and you were drawn in by John’s charisma and charm as he spoke to you.

You sank to your knees in front of him, listening carefully as he continued, “it depends how you use it.”

He reached out and cupped your cheek the same way he had done earlier, with the utmost care and reverence for your delicate features. He wanted your attention now and he needn’t try hard to get it.

His thumb pressed down on your bottom lip and you opened your mouth slightly at his direction.

“Do you use your tongue for evil, darling?” he asked.

You looked at him and in that moment you swore the man looking back at you was seeing into your very soul.

With shaking hands did you give him your answer, reaching for his belt as you began to unbuckle him; better to show him with your actions than to tell him in words.

Instinct was there to guide you as your boss smirked at you, his face cast in orange firelight while you prepared to give back what you had so graciously received from him.

The air shifted and a sinister blackness settled over the room as Milton’s tongue flickered across his bottom lip, mimicking that of a serpent.

John Milton was baptized in sins you could not mention and it would be a tragedy just to commune with the likes of him; from hence, you prayed every night for the opportunity to do it all over again.

[punkwixes]

lmao christ what a stupidly insulting poll

(didn’t get all the options in there but you get the point, the last two were like “i don’t read at all”/“see results” or w/e)

anyways. lmao. they apologized for calling it “foolish” but like only because they realized that Some People Can’t Get To A Physical Bookstore

and it’s just like. lol. lmao. i’m a guy who 100% prefers ebooks! the small screen size of my phone is PERFECT for holding my attention — this is a problem that existed Before I Owned A Smartphone, even, because as far as i can remember i’ve made my internet browser window as small as possible to read articles or w/e.

anyways i love being able to read ebooks on my small screen, i love changing the font and text size and page color, i LOVE easily searching through books for quotes with keywords, i love being able to highlight and make notes with all the space in the world. i love being able to screenshot what i’m reading and crop it down to share things quickly.

and i LOVE being able to buy ebooks for cheaper than the cost of a physical book and/or quickly rent them from the library! i love having dozens of books stored on a device the size of my palm! i love reading them wherever i am, but also nobody Has to know what i’m reading (the last time i took a physical book in public i removed the dust jacket, lmao.)

and they don’t take up any space in my house! i have like…. idk, 40-50 books on my phone? maybe more, idk, a lot of them are On Here but not downloaded because i haven’t read them in a bit. i have to move across the country in a few years! i am already dying abt it & would die more if i had to pack and carry boxes of all those BOOKS.

and i DO own some physical books, and will buy more, but they’re books i Deeply Care About/Would Read Multiple Times.

oh! AND! i love not having to worry about where a library book has been. i love getting a book from the library and it’s a nice ebook & not a physical copy that has Weird Stains on the pages. and i hate the library book smell. it’s my second least favorite thing that these people performatively brag abt loving, right next to Flipping Pages. what is it abt these people and NEEEEDING to Flip Pages?

[emeritus-fuckers]

Howdy hey I'm interested in trying the match-up event. I always enjoy reading the things y'all've written.

Apologies in advance if this is a mess. 1. Identity: I am nonbinary, use they/them and she/her pronouns. I'm bisexual and a bit on the demisexual side.

2. Who I like: I'm cool with either the papas or ghouls

3. What I look like: I'm 5'8" and chubby. I'm pretty strong and got some muscle so I'm built perfect for giving big hugs and cuddles (though it'll take a bit of convincing to get me cuddly). At the moment my hair is dyed bright red but it changes colors often. Both my eyes have sectoral heterochromia and are green with a bright blue chunk. I usually wear all black graphic tees, skinny jeans, boots, and fun colored socks that often show because i never find pants that are long enough in my size lol.

4. My personality: I am introverted but enjoy being around others even if it wears me out. I'm good with kids (I'm a human jungle gym at this point) and people tend to tell me their secrets and find it easy to be open/themselves around me. I'd say i'm pretty smart but I will do stupid things just because i'm curious. Folks i'm comfortable around will never hear the end of my current interests and I'm a complete goofball (I've been banned from being funny at the table because i've caused too many people to choke laughing oops). It takes a while to actually get to know me deeply because I keep things close to my chest and dont open up easily. I've got a lot of anxiety and some baggage that I keep hidden but I'm working on I swear. I can get really competitive over trivial things and can turn anything into a game. I sometimes go MIA when im distracted with whatever the hell i'm into at that time but when I reappear there's always something new to share. (I can tell you everything you never wanted to know about pipe organs!)

5. Interests: I've got the adhd so my interests bounce around a lot. I like making things and I mess around with a lot with different crafts. I do a lot of fiber arts stuff and I've also recently been whittling bears (I have a few around somewhere). I love music both listening and playing it. I play 8 instruments (violin, viola, cello, mandolin, ukulele, trumpet, trombone, and french horn) but I'm best with the violin because i've been playing it for around 17 years. I'm also teaching myself accordion and guitar. I play video games sometimes and I especially enjoy getting 100% completion. In general I love learning anything and everything and am a "jack of many trades but master of none"

6.Trivia: My favorite movie is fantasia 2000 and recently I completed my goal of performing every music piece in an orchestra (The Pines of Rome and the Firebird Suite are my favs). I collect knickknacks and random things I find and use them to decorate my spaces and I have a skeleton with a mustache in a wizard costume in the back seat of my car and its name is Todd. I also keep googly eyes in my bag just in case

This post is part of the 1000 followers match up event. Entries for the event are now closed.

Your match is...Swiss

You and Swiss quickly became friends, he's so excited by things and so enthusiastic that you got swept up in it all. He's charming and really sweet to you, so you started to fall for him. One day you were sitting outside, Swiss taking a large drag of his vape before he looks at you and grins. "I love ya, you know that right gorgeous one?" You blush and blurt out that you feel the same way. Swiss responds by biting your shoulder just under the collar of your t-shirt. "There now it's offical" he says so excited he's practically jumping up and down "you're my mate!"

Swiss adores your eyes, he thinks they are the most awesome thing ever, and so beautiful. He tells you this a lot.

Swiss adores how much of a goofball you are, he is too, and you spend a lot of time together both laughing so hard you end up tearing up.

If your anxeity is getting bad he will cuddle and do anythig he can to help. If things get too much and you seem sad he'll hold you. He will cuddle you as long as you need. Then he'll try and take your mind off things, anything to get you to laugh a little and smile. Swiss is chaos personified but one thing is constant for him, he loves you and is devoted to you.

Swiss can keep up with your changing interestests. Infact he loves it! This Ghoul enjoys chaos and jumping around from thing to thing, that keeps him occupied. Whatever you get into he'll throw himself into it completely with you.

He is fascinated by all the things you collect. He loves how varied they are and the skeleton with a moutache is his favourite. He was very excited when you whittled him a bear. You handed it to him and he just looked at it like 'woow this is awesome'. he keeps it in his room, pride of place.

He's more than happy to help you learn guitar, he gets so excited his tail starts swishing around. He passes you his guitar and sits behind you legs either side of you showing you a cord and then letting you practice. He'll kiss your neck or softly bite your shoulder every now and then. He'll rest his chin on your shoulder and watches. He smiles at how fast you are learning, his smile is gorgeous enough to make your heart melt for him, to forget completely what you were playing and you just smile back. Often this leads to you getting so distracted the guitar gets forgotten as he presses his lips to yours.

~

Written by Nyx

[armory-rasa]

Making the cat bag: post-game analysis

My thoughts on the project, what I’d change if I made it again and what I wouldn’t.

Leather -- For all that I struggled with making the gussets out of latigo, I'd still choose that over veg-tan. I like the heft of latigo; I like that it's sturdy enough to hold its shape, while still staying flexible. Veg-tan gets very stiff after it's been wet (ie, when you dye it), and then it's a lot of work to soften it back up again so it doesn't wrinkle and crack when you bend it. The molded veg-tan bags and pouches I've made in the past feel less substantial than latigo, less durable, less professional. In my opinion, latigo is worth the extra hassle of the gussets.

(I do wish it were possible to mix and match different leathers -- to do the body and straps with latigo, and the gussets with veg tan -- and if they were getting dyed black that might be possible, but not if you're trying to make them match with literally any other color.)

Latigo does tend have a very flat, unnaturally-even color that is also a giveaway that you’re working with modern leather, so it benefits from layering on some other color. In this case, I used Eco-Flo antiqueing gel in mahogany to stain the edges, and then smeared it around on the leather’s surface to give it some depth and complexity. I like how it came out, and I’d do the exact same thing next time.

Buckle vs magnet -- lol yeeeeeah, if I make this again, I'm going to give it the hidden magnet clasp. Not only does the buckle make access more difficult, but that constant buckling and unbuckling puts a lot of wear and tear on the strap very quickly.

Belt straps -- Perfect, 10/10, no notes. They were designed to be able to fit belts up to 2.25″ wide, and when I wore the bag around for a day, they folded nicely, allowing me to sit down without the bag getting in the way.

Proportions -- This is the biggest one, because the bag came out noticeably more square than the reference pics. I had wanted it to be 6″ tall, and accordingly I made the front/back/gussets 6″, but I didn’t sufficiently account for how the curve of the flap adds height.

You can see that the front/back/gussets are indeed 6″ tall -- but with the flap, the overall height is nearly 6.75″. So even though repatterning is a pain in the ass, I would drop the sides to 5.25″, and hopefully that would make it 6″ overall.

I’d also widen it at the base, from 7.5″ to 8″ across, because the bag is not currently a very useful size -- with the amount of space the gussets take up on the inside, it's neither wide enough nor tall enough to fit my lawyer's 6.5" cellphone, and I make a point of considering the functionality when I make stuff like this. Phone and wallet is what most people need to carry at cons/renfaires, and so a pouch that can't accommodate those needs isn't going to be terribly useful. The bag is plenty roomy, but in the wrong directions -- it's deeper and taller than it needs to be, but not wide enough.

It also doesn’t need to be 2″ deep. The wooden mold I have (which is actually 1.75″, not 1.5″ as previously stated) is what I’ve used for making the Anders square bag and the Fenris bags, and it is exactly the right thickness for carrying a smartphone and a wallet side-by-side. It’d work fine for the cat bag too.

I think next time I'd try to skive down the thickness of the gussets to make them easier to work with, even though skiving is a fiddly, error-prone pain in the ass if you don't have the machine to do it. Thinner leather would be able to press into the mold better, and ultimately take up less space inside the bag.

So, am I going to make this again? 

idk, maybe. I’d give a 50/50 chance, knowing me. I can feel the perfectionist urge to get it completely right this time, and then I could put the pattern/tutorial up for sale. We’ll see. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[rekikiri]

Bonfire jack-o'-lantern cinnamon and fireside! (@stabbyfoxandrew)

bonfire (describe your dream house) - okay kinda long answer because I’ve thought about this many times since once the interest rates are down i will likely be getting a house lmao. apologies for the long answer.

so I want a brick house, preferable the colors kinda muted. either gray and black brick or red and black. idk why it’s just nice to me. for the inside, I want a very open living room and a decently sized kitchen. at least probably 4-5 bedrooms so that if i choose to have or adopt kids they’d each get their own room AND I can keep having a game room/office. (Im in a two bedroom so it’s very convenient to keep all expensive electronics and a lot of my nerd shit away from the other rooms).

(doing a break here)

Id LOVE having a wall full of shelves with one of those ladders to have my own personal library to fill with books and trinkets. and a tall fence to have space for when I get a dog (not getting a dog in an apartment, I cannot consistently walk a dog on a leash and go to parks where I’m at). hopefully no neighbors super close they need to be a bit away from me

jack o’ lantern (if you could look like any celebrity, who would you choose?) - I already have a few celebrities that I’ve been told I look very similar to (and one who my best friend who once said I look so much like this actress she couldn’t comfortably watch a triggering show). but maybe sandra bullock? she’s one of the prettiest women I’ve ever seen. i don’t do celebrity crushes but if I had to give one, it’d be her (or mariska hargitay!! another pretty pretty lady). I love them <3 genuinely the first two women I remember seeing and being like…woah beautiful lady. and I already have the same hair and eye color so it wouldn’t be like…drastically not me

cinnamon (if you had to live in a time period different than the present, which would you choose and where?) - hmmmm not sure. not too far back because I want to have Rights, ya know? maybe gonna steal your answer @stabbyfoxandrew and say be an adult in 90s-00s. I do not want to live in my hometown bc it’s not at all progressive lmao. not sure where tho just maybe somewhere with a higher population but not a big city, idk. boring answer haha

fireside (if you had your dream wardrobe, what would it look like?) - sooo I have a bit of an all over the place preferred styles and also a few things I specifically want. a few of my favorite styles are dark academia, a lot of black and baggy clothes (kinda emo style stuff), and I fucking loveeee sweaters too. I live in a hot and humid state AND I overheat so easily so I cannot wear my preferred clothes that much of the year, and dark academia stuff would be too much money right now for not a lot of use.

specific pieces!! I am dying to buy a few more pairs of highs top platform converse. I love those so much. AND I want a pair of platform doc martens. I have a normal pair but I want Stompy Boot. i also want to not have the issue where i have a primary every day shoe because I’m an anime character apparently and almost exclusively wear one pair of shoes for ages, and only swaps during the new season outfit change. currently they are my red high top platform converse. (before these it was my timberlands lmao).

SORRY THIS GOT SO LONG I JUST HAVE TOO MANY THINGS TO SAY IN MY ANSWERS

[spasticarkayl]

Something that is easy to hear and reiterate but is SO hard to actually accomplish is releasing yourself from societal expectations and norms. Allowing yourself to be “cringe”.

Specifically when it comes to how one presents themself or what interests they keep into adulthood.

I was able to get most of the way there. I am nearly 30 years old and I finally broke away from “but what will people think of me” for a majority of my day-to-day life.

The key is that it’s not all one big motion that can be done on a dime. I didn’t one day just go “You know what I don’t care anymore!”. That’s a nearly impossible feat for anyone.I took it step by step, little by little.

It started with my hair- not caring what anyone else thought of the cut or color. In fact, to counteract the creeping thoughts of judgement, I tended to keep it purposefully styled in a way that a majority of my coworkers did not prefer. “Oh, I like your hair darker! It looks better that way!“ immediately bleaching it and dying it neon. “Your hair is getting so long, it’s lovely! You should grow it out more. :)” immediately cutting it all off. That subtle but constant rebellion to comments from others eventually settled into “I don’t care what anyone thinks, if they like it or don’t, I want it THIS way.”

I’m fat. That’s just a fact. According to my oral surgeons office, I am clinically obese. I do not care. I have not cared that people have called me fat in at least three years. That’s not a particularly long time, sure, but before that a single comment about weight loss would’ve made me shut down with self hatred or anxiety.

That road was a lot trickier. I think I got to where I am by realizing several things over time.

I don’t notice when other people are “fat”. I never have. A person is just a person, no matter the size. I eventually realized that I, too, am a person and my size does not change that.

I divorced myself from diet culture and calorie counting. I love food. I love fatty, greasy, cheesey food! I love bread and sweets and soups and pastas! And if I can’t, or “shouldn’t”, eat those things because I will gain weight? What a pitiful existence to be in. So I stopped caring how much I ate, and the rest of it just followed.

All of that started seeping into every other part of my life. I work in a professional environment and I have anime merchandise (like clear files or pencil cases) splayed out on my desk 80% of the time. My lanyard and badge case are both “cringe”. As soon as I get a desk, there will be more “cringe” items decorating the whole thing.

I have by far stopped caring. As long as I’m being respectful to those around me- and the situation that I find myself in at any point- I have absolutely stopped caring what others think or say.

It’s been one of the biggest blessings of  my whole damn life.

[elliebear666]

So, despite my depression spirals?

Let's talk about my transition.

Am I in any way regretting the changes? No. Not a single bit. In fact, I'm a little sad in some ways that the changes aren't MORE, ya know... massive? That I didn't develop normal sized and looking breasts. That my face structure is still the same, even if more feminine. That my hips didn't widen. Etc. I'm sad that the effects didn't literally make me female lol and that's the ONLY issue.

What negative effects have I experienced? Hmm... anxiety about not looking feminine enough. Depression about not looking feminine enough. So essentially the same dysphoria I experienced before, only now massively reduced.

Positive things I've experienced?

God, where do I start? Umm... I have developed breasts. They're perky and small, but I wear bras now. It's... as silly as this sounds? Going out and buying bras for myself? Made me so fucking happy. I can't express the euphoria I experienced as a trans girl going to buy bras with my mom. I'm literally going to cry about this. The experiences I never got? Just small things like this? God I... it sounds so silly but it is just... I'm happy.

My hips and butt have both become more full. I feel pretty in tight jeans, and my legs look feminine enough that, as long as I shave my legs, I wear shorts now! I used to HATE shorts because of my leg hair! As a teen, I wanted to shave my legs with my mom's razor but I don't think I did. But, when I was dating a girl, she was insecure about her body hair so I was like... why don't you shave? She was nervous but I said, "Okay. Tell you what. I'll shave too!" In truth? I felt excited at the prospect. I shaved and she shaved. I realized I loved it. She realized she preferred not to. So, I shave pretty often now and feel happy wearing shorts. :)

My experience with estrogen changing my emotions? So... I've always been an emotional person. I'm a big cry baby. But my emotions often felt... like, yes, I experienced numbness and emptiness often but... my experience has become... how do I describe this? More right? When I experience emotions? Like, in the past, I felt like the world was in shades of gray. Everything felt lifeless and empty and cold. And now? I feel like I can see in color. I feel like I'm experiencing emotions that are even more full and robust. I do cry more easily now too. I'm not sure if it's because I am accepting my feelings or because estrogen has caused that change. But I used to be bothered how, as I grew? The changes of testosterone? They were AWFUL.

Let's talk about clothing and style. Ya girl went through a series of aesthetic changes and issues lmao like I didn't know how to dress or fully what I liked. As time has passed, I'm coming into what I like. For the longest time, I wore an oversized rainbow dyed hoodie and jeans/leggings. I wanted to express with my clothing that I was living a light of life and vivacity and vividness. Now? Ya girl is back to wearing a lot of black. I still wear blue jeans, etc. But I don't wear tshirts much if at all unless as a night shirt. I have dresses and skirts and I LOVE some of my dresses to death. I was definitely sad when summer ended and I couldn't wear dresses anymore. But, summer is coming and I can start wearing them again!!!! I love that my outfits say "girl" now. I feel shapely and I feel attractive. Men hit on me which... is an interesting development? Being approached by literal strangers interested in sex or wanting to give me their number is... odd - I accepted one number, but blocked him after a weird call, and shut down everyone else. Especially because most of these men don't know I'm transgender. I haven't been misgendered in years. I do worry about the weight I've lost making me look more masculine though.

Dating as a woman? Existing as a woman in the world? It's been an experience. The level of anxiety and worry I had about passing was astronomical. Now... I get called ma'am, miss, girlfriend. Baby girl... and I just... god. I'm smiling my ass off. I'm a daughter and a sister and an aunt. The level of euphoria I've experienced about the changes to these titles? About my pronouns? She/her/hers. I am beyond happy. I am so fucking happy about this aspect. I didn't want to be a brother or boyfriend or son or uncle or husband or father because... I wasn't a man. I said I didn't want to get married or have children (1. Didn't want to "pass on what I have" 2. Didn't want to be a husband or a father.) Although, there was a person I wanted to marry, I would have... not been able to live as a man to be with this woman. But now? The thought of being a mother? A wife? I could do that. I fact... I would be ecstatic to be someone's wife :) just imagining, "Hey, guys. This is my wife, Ellie!" Shivers! Whenever I adopt? I'll be a mom :) Being a girlfriend is amazing lmao I'm so happy that guys have told me they want me to be their girlfriend.

Let's see... what else?

Learning to change my voice? The level of vocal dysphoria I have experienced in my life has been truly awful. Like... bad. I spent a good couple years feminizing my voice and I am happy with the results. Although I wish it didn't have to be a CHOICE to change my voice, and that was just how it was? I enjoyed the journey aspect of finding my voice. I can now talk and hear a voice that is MINE! Like... this is MY voice! And like... I've cried and laughed and been so fucking euphoric about having a voice that matches who I am. I wish cis people knew what this experience was like for trans people. However? Although I have come to love my voice in its own way, for singing? Um... I still experience dysphoria to a good degree about my singing voice. But, I don't think that's something I could easily change? Especially because of the damage I caused my vocal chords. Like, it is what it is, but... tbh? I was screaming for years because I was in pain. I was angry and hurting and lost and broken and dysphoric. And I was destroying myself. I was destroying myself because the body I inhabited felt so goddamn wrong. Like... fuck. Idek. I'm sorry...

Let's see... what else 🤔

Ahhh, my name!!! So. I wrote a book some time ago. And a character in it was named Ellianore. When I first started considering names? I considered using that name. That's the name I used in online games a lot. But I decided that the Ellianore was... a bit bunch? Um... and I settled on Elleanor instead. Madeline (pronounced madalyn) So, the reason I chose Madeline was... I love the name for one lol. And then... my mom used to call me Mattie as a kid. And the nickname for Madeline is Maddie :) I'm sure you can put two and two together. I felt like it was a nod to the past, to my mom that I love so much, and a brave, bold step into my future. My old name was Matthew Evan. My new name is Elleanor Madeline. The initials just switched around!!! Isn't that cool!?

So?

In summary... the positive I've experienced far, far, far outweigh the negative. The negative being shit I already dealt with, just now not as severe and mitigated as best I can at current. I have no regrets. This is who I am and what I needed. I'm experiencing euphoria, living a life that feels authentic. And I am finally finding contentment in myself as a person.

I guess... some of my regrets would be that I didn't transition as a teen. I do regret that. And I regret how I allowed myself to act due to my pain and depression with my life. I've hurt people I love... and I so very much regret to my core these mistakes.

I look forward to the future. I look forward to my surgery. I look forward to the years I have left in which I can live and love authentically.

[nikitafiber]

Studio Project 2

I made a fun, interactive experience in which people are informed about mental illness and the medications commonly used to treat these issues. I think that this was an effective method to convey the true extent of mental health struggles that are highly relevant in today's society. With the increased prevalence of depression, anxiety, and ADHD, there is a need for increased awareness for the young adult demographic, who are more susceptible to these mental health problems. College is the time for intense introspection, where we mature and grow. During phases like this, it is important to develop the self-awareness and emotional maturity to acknowledge our weaknesses and address those concerns before we release ourselves into the big, scary world. With this in mind, I wanted to emphasize the importance of getting treatment for problems, to minimize the shame associated with medications used to treat mental illnesses.

This is the bottle. For the structure, I used unbleached muslin and dyed it with the fiber reactive dye, "Brilliant Orange" (further details of this process are documented in the project 2 progress post). The structure was pieced together using the sewing machine. Since I have not used one since last semester, it took a bit to refamiliarize myself with the set up and use of the machine, it took maybe 15 to 20 minutes for this.

This is the thread I used. In this picture, I am loading the bobbin with the orange color.

This was before the machine was threaded

This is the machine threaded

The bobbin has been loaded and the threads are ready

This is the entire dyed sheet prior to cutting. As per usual, the dye was not throughly consistent for the entire fabric, but was adequately saturated with the orange. I did leave it in the dye bath for longer than needed to ensure the brightest orange.

This is the fabric cut and folded over for the side of the bottle. I made the top of the bottle using the nice, even fold that the fabric naturally had and the stitched end would be the bottom/ base.

Here is the cut base. I approximated a circle and then decided I would perfect the shape with the sewing machine. I did this because I knew I needed the base to have a free edge that was not stitched or stuffed in order to be able to attach this base to the side wall of the bottle.

Here, I am stitching the circle.

So, the circle was stitched until there was a small gap left and then stuffed with the fiber fill, then the gap was stitched completely. After that, I attached the the wall of the bottle to the circular base. This is what is seen in the photo above, with this unusual shape.

I sewed one end of the bottle and then left the other end open for the fiber fill.

I added more stuffing (probably too much).

Then, I attached everything. The free end was closed up and secured.

Then, I flipped the bottle inside out. Here is the very wonky bottle I made. I did not realize this at the time, but it was because there was too much fiber fill inside.

I did my best to straighten the bottle and it sort of worked, but I ended up making some changes for the best outcome.

I realized that the stitching was not fully secured. Because there were two completely different size and shaped things to attach together, it was difficult to control all four of the fabric layers simultaneously with the machine. I ended up using a seam ripper to redo the stitching at the base and side of the bottle. When I was doing this, I removed some fiber fill and spread the material out as well as I was able to for an even distribution. I needed to remove fiber fill to reduce the lumps and to allow more space on the interior of the pill bottle. With the extra fiber fill, the inside was too narrow to be able to place things inside.

The bottle cap and label were created using bleached muslin to achieve that stark white color that usually accompanies real prescription bottles.

I made the cap the same way as the bottle, but since the bottle was already created, I was able to have a measurement or guide to be able to make sure the lid was wider than the bottle opening. With the bottle, I was simply relying on intuition for the size, but it was nice to have a guide for this. I did stitch this by hand because the machine was not as precise for the shapes as I found that I was when fixing the stitches on the bottle.

For the label, I was planning on doing direct application for the text. However, the studios were closed on Monday :(

So, I used acrylic paint from my painting class to create the text. I found one of my bottles and used the real prescription number for the Rx. After this, I realized that many of my bottles have wear and smudging on the label. I wanted to reflect this on my bottle as well, I felt that it would serve as a symbolic means of conveying frequency of use or showing the bottle having been through a lot of travel. Since all of my prescription bottles had this, I realized that it would add to the authenticity of the bottle. I was confident in this choice and therefore the lettering is smudged or lacking ink in certain places.

However, after I attached the label to the bottle, I was no longer happy with this choice and I thought it made the bottle appear sloppy. To get to the bottom of this, I conducted a few surveys to determine if this was a noticeable problem to people who do not have a vested interest in my project to control for potential bias. No one mentioned the faded text or smudging as a problem on their own. After I asked specifically about it, everyone said they did not notice the label as looking sloppy or weird. Because of this, I just accepted that this was not a problem to viewers or an audience.

The pills process was a bit harder and far more time consuming. In my previous progress post, I mentioned that I had made structures using pipe cleaners as a guiding force for the shapes of my pills. Well, this did not go to plan and it was taking an absurd amount of time to make it work and was causing immense stress, while time continued to pass.

So, this was my attempt at the wellbutrin with the pipe cleaner structure. A real fail, but I still wanted to document this, as I learned that the rigid structure was not the best choice for the shape and piece that I was trying to make. The edge of the pill with the pipe cleaner was resistant to the felting, making it difficult to have a clean edge. The side of the pill appeared to be sunken in, rather than consistent.

I realized (maybe far too late) that I needed to have full control over the pill, so I made them solely out of wool. I had to build up the structure from the base and build in layers to get to the correct size, width, and shape of the specific pill.

Here, I am adding the eyes and face to the wellbutrin that I made only with needle felting. This was so dense and so the eyes and faces were really easy to add after the pill structure was already established.

This is the finished wellbutrin.

My next folly was this. I built up what I thought was a good enough base with just the needle felting. I forgot to consider how much the felt would condense and I already added the orange. The orange section was then too narrow compared to that of the green portion and there was very limited orange. I looked at the inventories at all the craft stores and they either did not carry orange wool or it was no longer in stock. It is not really possible to undo needle felting, but I looked at where the fibers were attached and meticulously pulled them out to preserve as much orange wool as I could.

Here is the built up structure with the wool and the green added. This pill is Prozac. I am not on Prozac, the anxiety medication that I take is actually a blood pressure medication and is used by old men. It is a small white pill, very very boring, so I opted to represent anxiety using the medication that is most commonly prescribed for those struggling with anxiety. There are many people that I know and love on this medication and it is widely recognized as an anxiety medication across many generations.

At this point, I was starting to feel the wrath of mental anguish and was having weird feelings. It felt like someone was sitting on my chest, like a pressure. I then realized I was experiencing anxiety symptoms (the irony) but I needed to keep working so I did.

This was the last one I made, the Concerta. Concerta is my favorite ADHD medication, best ever. I have been on a few different types of ADHD meds and different stimulants, but this one has been the best for me. Adderall is the most common stimulant and I have been on that as well, but it is not that great and so I chose this one to create with felt since it has helped me the most personally.

At this point in time, I had a full break down. I have been stressed while working on projects, art projects included, but never to this extent. Usually, I just feel the stress, complete the project, and move on. However, I fully went through it with this project. I think that there were just too many parts and techniques being used, and many problems came up and while I was able to figure them out, it was still difficult. I will say this did not last too long because after a couple minutes of crying, I started laughing because every time I think about having made a giant, stuffed pill bottle with pills that have faces, I am tickled. Once I got past this, I did feel better. I just thought I would document my first art project breakdown. What a life.

Here they are together. I think one of the funniest things about these pills that are used to treat mental health conditions, is that they are very colorful. For some reason, pharmaceutical manufacturers use very bright or unexpected colors for these pills.

Corresponding medication information. I think there was a much better way of going about the information booklets, but I can rectify this later.

[centuriantalevevo]

The song DYE by AVTechNO!! Makes sense to me. Like... it sounds like gibberish to English speakers, because it's an English song meant for foreign speakers, mainly Japanese speakers... and it has a Japanese part... but the English still makes sense to me oddly enough.

Someone made English translations to try and have the song make more sense in English and it's okay, but I like the original lyrics more.

Idk how to describe it and if you asked me to try and make the lyrics less gibberish for us... I wouldn't be able to. It's something about the words used, repeating color and dye that makes sense. Idk how to explain it tho...

Like.. from what I get, the song is likely about someone who maybe feels a but out of place in the world... they want their colors to match others so they can be liked, they don't want to be "dark" and "evil" colors, meaning the singer (in this case Luka) doesn't want to be viewed as bad. They want to be the color others like, this alone makes sense to me but to try and explain it to others: what I can gather is that Luka basically just wants to he understood and liked by others, so using colors to represent that. She wants to fit in.

To what color am I dyed?

This might be asking what place she has in the world

The size of the dyed thing

changes

because

of the difference

of the dyed color

I can grow up if it dyes

to good people color

I want to dye me to such a color

The "I want to dye me to such a color" is probably saying she wants to be like everyone, have the same interests. "To good people color", a lot of colors described as 'good' could be pink, blue, purple... she wants to he a good person. "I can grow up if it dyes" maybe like she can finally mature

To what color am I dyed?

The color to be dyed

changes

under

the influence

of the private life.

I degenerate

if it

dyes to

villain color.

The color for which

I hope is a color with high brightness.

"Villain" colors are usually considered red, green due to envy, and black. She doesn't want to be a bad person. "Under the influence of the private life", the things you do in your own time can mold who you are. If you don't horrible things in private, like hurting animals, etc, that can shape who you are. "I degenerate if it dyes to villain color" I think this means she'll become hated, and have no purpose. Perhaps degenerate can also mean she'll become depressed, as depression can drain your energy. For "high brightness", like how people describe a smile as bright

I want to become beautiful mind.

Exactly what it says. Idk how to explain it. Maybe thinking good thoughts

I want to become it.

She wants to become good

I want to become beautiful mind.

I want to become it.

I obtain the conscience.

And, becomes a luminous color.

There are a lot of

black and white in the private life.

My color shines by "Affection"

and "Esteem" and "Kindness" and

"Looking after" and "Nursing" and

"Protection" and "Consideration"

and "Respect" and "Solicitude" and

"Encouragement" and "Friendship", etc.

"Black and white in the private life" lots of things people see as black and white, but there's a lot of gray areas. Not just a yes or no, agree or disagree. A lot of the words described are associated with 'pretty' colors. Pink, purple, yellow, baby blue, sometimes red as red can be considered love. But it also may not be red, as red can also signal blood.

I want to choose color that is

brighter than the dark color.

If the surrounding is a

dark color

I look large.

If the surrounding is

a luminous color,

my existence might be thin...

Like before, she wants to be a 'good' color, most good colors are bright. Like pink, yellow, and white. Around darker colors, or bad people, she'll look bigger and better... around brighter colors, people who are good, she'll be less seen.

The luminous color

improves the environment.

The luminous color

shines in the dark.

However, the luminous

color shines

only in a dark place.

Still, I do not care.

My existence disappears

if it winks out.

I can become energetic by

shining on surroundings.

When I become tired and do not shine.

The brighter colors, good people, make the world a better place, and the good people are easily seen when surrounded by bad people. The good people can only be seen easily when they're the outcast around many bad people just as bad people are easily seen in a group of good people.

The source of "Vigour" can be

gotten from "Good man color".

Not sure how to describe this aside from: you can gain energy by being around other positive and good people

The color for which

other people

hope to me.

It is different from the

color for which

I hope.

However, if it is

an earth friendly color,

I like the Color that other people like

A dark color

in the interior of the

spirit is also as the case

may be necessary.

Both necessary dark

colors and

bright colors.

I want to dye me

Many people may hope she is a 'bad' color, she hopes to be the opposite. She wants to fit in but also be different. Even though green is associated with envy and jealousy, it'd also associated with earth, brown can be too because of dirt. She likes the color others like, she wants to be like that, so she has a place in the world. Bad people can be necessary in the world because if we were all good, goodness wouldn't be significant. There are such things as a necessary evil.

moderately.

She wants to dye herself a moderate color, not to dark and not to bright. She wants to have that balance of good and bad, because no one is perfect.

It is possible

to change greatly

in "Thing that becomes a

luminous color from a

dark color" even if my existence

is small.

Now will grow in the

future even if it is small.

Things can change a LOT from just a small action, like in the butterfly effect. Bad people can change and become good, just as good people can become bad. So she can become good, even if that's insignificant. The small things you do can matter in the future.

itsu datte watashi wa

ima yori motto motomete itai

tatoe "sore" ga watashi no

saikou no "original" da to shite mo

(I always want to ask more than I do now Even if "that" is my original "original l")

Unfortunately I cannot explain this one.

To what color am I dyed?

The size of the dyed thing

changes

because

of the difference

of the dyed color

I can grow up if it dyes

to good people color

I want to dye me to such a color

To what color am I dyed?

The color to be dyed

changes

under

the influence

of the private life.

I degenerate

if it

dyes to

villain color.

The color for which

I hope is a color with high bright--

To what color am I dyed?

The size of the dyed thing

changes

because

of the difference

of the dyed color....

So basically, Luka wishes to fit in, but also be slightly different. But she wants to be good. However, you need the balance of good and bad because you can't be perfect. She could be conflicted.

[paladinkit]

Hope you don't mind if I chime in with my dye chemistry knowledge!

Food dyes (including those in the kool-aid packets) are what's known as acid dyes - the colors become bonded to protein-based fibers via the applicaton of heat and acid. Kool-aid works great as an intro because powdered citric acid is already in the packet with the dye, although the extra vinegar is a decent back up aid for making sure the dye bonds correctly.

If you're trying to dye things with kool-aid and it's just washing right out, double check:

Am I using a protein based fiber? (wool, silk, nylon) - if you're trying to dye cellulose based fibers that needs a fiber reactive process which is not my expertise, and fully artificial fabrics often need to be dyed in the fiber extrusion process.

Did you let the fiber soak and heat up enough? Ideally you want your water bath to be "exhausted", ie the water you're dyeing in is clear and all the color had gone into your fiber. (Warning - too much heat affects how shiny silk is: err on the side of low heat for longer times with silk especially).

Did you have enough acid? Mostly I try this when my dye just isn't exhausting - I'll add more vinegar until the dye bath is clear or until there's no more changing even with more time or acid. (Warning - too much acid can damage and change the texture of your fibers, so take care!)

Was your starting fiber clean? Oils, various products used for sizing, and other substances on the fiber can block it's ability to absorb and bond dyes. Try hand washing the fiber with clear dish soap first, then dyeing.

If your final color isn't solid all the way through, your fiber probably didn't get wet all the way through. Silk especially can benefit from a long presoak as it can take longer to get thoroughly wet.

Food grade dyes are typically fairly washfast (too much or too strong of a detergent can change this, and really hot water or changes in pH and mineral content can break some of the dye molecules loose.) The biggest issues with food dyes in my experience is that they're somewhat less lightfast than professional acid dyes... but it's mostly noticeable in fabric with intense long term sun exposure, like a knit swatch left in the sunniest window for a month.

It's a great day to dye!!!!

[visionofhope04]

Hii I was lowkey wondering if you would do something maybe like a one shot of neglected where reader is older (18-20) and dipped out of the house and became a singer and one of her songs basically exposed them for how they treated reader and in like an interview she full on tells them how she doesn’t even talk to them and like only Jason

This is literally perfect. I love this idea! I was planning on making a singer batsis reader anyway so here you go! I'll be making this part 4 of the series instead of a one shot. There’s a bit of angst. Btw, thanks so much for your support everyone! I'm glad you enjoy this series! Feel free to request anything you'd like besides smut as well!

This is the longest thing I have ever written so there will be a part 5. I planned on this being the last part but it's just so much. It’s not proofread and neither are all of the other parts because I post at 1 am most of the time lol. Hope you like it!

f/n = friend name

Y/G/N = your group name

N/S = news station

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 (Current) Part 5

---

You were sick of it. Sick of how even after confronting them about how you felt and almost dying because of it, they still neglected you. You couldn't wait to move out at the age of 18, even if it proved to be a struggle. You had taken mini jobs since you turned 15 and saved up since then. You just couldn't see them anymore as it would remind you of how they treated you that day at that hospital. None of them apologized either. They just pretended it never happened and continued to ignore you. The media had a field day with speculation of what had happened but eventually stopped because Bruce had claimed it was “just a bad case of the flu” which they believed.

Jason was always the only one that would talk to you. He was the only one that actually cared enough to make sure you were taking proper care of yourself and that you wouldn't have a repeat of what happened. He took you places, spent time with you and gave you advice. You even had a tradition where you'd always meet up at the manor's library every week at the same time that same day every week and just have a mini book club together. He always made time for you and never bailed on you.

So on your 18th birthday, he helped you move out. You managed to rent a small apartment in Star City with the money you had saved up. It wasn’t that close to the manor which was a good thing. The neighborhood wasn’t good but it wasn’t as bad as Gotham’s neighborhoods so you would be fine. You could handle yourself with your assassin training if needed. You also managed to get hired at a cafe which was about a five minutes walking distance from your apartment.

It had taken a while but eventually, you had packed all of your belongings into color coded containers and moved them into Jason’s car with his help. You didn’t say goodbye to anyone as you had no friends to say bye to and you knew that your so called “family” couldn’t care less about what you did with your life. ‘This is it, hopefully the last time I’ll ever be near this place.’ You thought. You didn’t plan on stepping foot in Gotham ever again after you left. It would bring back too many memories you prefer to keep buried away deep inside your mind.

The car ride to Star City was entertaining. You and Jason conversed the whole time, telling jokes and listening to his funny tales with the radio playing softly in the background. Eventually, a song you both loved came on and you both started yell-singing along to the lyrics. You wished those moments could be permanent. You were both so carefree and nothing else mattered besides having fun and enjoying yourselves.

You now stood in the doorway of your new apartment, admiring your new home. Jason and yourself had just finished unpacking all of your belongings. You really liked how it looked and thought you both did an amazing job at designing the place perfectly according to your style. Jason, unfortunately, had to leave in order to avoid raising suspicions. Once you both said your byes, he left you to your apartment.

Jason drove back home in silence. He hated to admit it but he would miss you dearly. You were always there for him and helped him with anything. You tried your best to always comfort him and make him feel better on his darkest days and it would always work. Somehow you seemed to always have the right words to say or knew exactly what to do to help him. Out of everyone he was closest to you. He assumed it was because he could relate to you the most. More so how you felt. He’d felt like the black sheep of the family before you came, and he was. When you came, you took that role from him. It pained him to see how much their insults would affect you, even if you were good at hiding it. He could just tell.

Jason made it back to the manor after a while and went straight to the library. He didn't want to deal with the others. After the whole hospital situation, he'd never really bother interacting with them. He hated how they treated you as if you didn’t exist and hated how much pain they had caused you and that they didn’t even care. He guessed that they'd probably be doing something for Damian's birthday and forgot that you were his twin. They probably couldn’t even remember that Damian had a twin.

He made it to the library and pulled out one of his favorite books. He’d read it so many times you’d often joke that he could probably recite the whole book by heart at this point. Sitting down in a chair, he started to read. However, he couldn’t bring himself to stop thinking about what it would’ve been like if they treated you how they did Damian. The both of you were Bruce’s real children. You both even looked like clones of him! At first, Jason thought you would’ve been the favorite twin due to your personality. Even though you were twins, your personalities were polar opposites. You even refused to kill! You were trained by the League so why didn’t you kill as Damian did?

Jason knew you would benefit them greatly if you joined. You had self control, didn’t kill, could act perfectly, lie perfectly, do well under pressure, and not to mention your skills. Being raised by the League may have been torture, but you managed to gain incredible skills out of it. You could take on at least ten guys who doubled you in size and beat them within five minutes. You even bested Damian in spars and he was supposedly dubbed the “better twin” by Talia, so why hadn’t they let you join their nightly crusades like they had let Damian when the both of you first arrived?

Damian passed by your room but noticed something was off. He decided to take a look. He twisted the doorknob and pushed. The room which was once occupied by you now looked extremely plain and bare, stripped of all of its accessories. The only things left were the bed itself, multiple dressers, and a vanity. It looked as if it had been vacant the whole time. It might as well have been. Damian couldn’t really remember what it had looked like since he’s never paid much mind to it but he could tell there was a drastic difference. He knew that you disliked just leaving your room plain unlike himself and wanted at least something to make it look less boring.

He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Had you finally been kicked out by Bruce? Did you get shipped off to a boarding school like he had been suggesting to your father for years? He decided to go ask. He exited the room and closed the door behind him, taking off for Bruce’s office. Walking down the hall, he suddenly remembered that he had seen you leave with Jason. This meant that you were not at a boarding school like he had originally thought. But then why was your room vacant?

Instead of going to see Bruce, he decided to go see Jason and bring up the matter with him instead. He changed directions and headed to the library where he knew he’d find Jason. It was no secret that Jason was a book worm so Damian had a fifty percent chance of finding him there.

He entered the library and was immediately greeted with the sight of Jason sitting comfortably on a chair, legs crossed with a book opened in his hands. Jason didn’t bother to look up from his book as he spoke.

“What do you want Demon Spawn?”

“I’ve come to obtain the whereabouts of my sister.”

“You mean my sister?”

“She’s not your sister!” Damian exclaimed.

“Well I act more like a brother than you do.”

“Where is Y/N? Her whole room is bare.”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

“Just tell me, you imbecile!” Damian said, growing increasingly frustrated by Jason’s blunt answers.

“She’s not here.”

“Then where is she?”

“Not here.”

“Just tell me already Todd, I have no time for your foolish games!”

“She moved out.” Jason said, giving in.

“What?! Where.” Damian demanded.

“Why would I tell you?”

“Because I demand to know!”

“Okay and?”

“Tell me!”

“No.”

“Why not!”

“Because you don’t even care.”

“And you do?”

“Yes, I actually do Damian! I’m there for her when she needs me the most. I’m there for her while she’s watching you live the perfect life that she’s just a background character in! While you and the others ignore that she even exists! I’m there for her when she breaks down and has panic attacks! And what were you all doing to try and help her? Nothing! Absolutely nothing!” Jason snapped.

“Y/N’s fine, I know my twin!” Damian screamed.

“Do you even know what her favorite color is?” Jason questioned in a harsh tone.

“...” Was Damian’s reply.

“Exactly! You don’t! You and the others have never cared about her, so why all of a sudden do you care now? You don’t know anything about her so don’t act like you do!” Jason then stood up and walked out of the room in a fit of rage.

Damian stood there, shocked. Had Jason just refused to answer his question? He was about to follow him but decided against it. Why was Damian going to chase Jason down just for her? She was just an annoyance, a mistake, imperfect. He had been wanting to get rid of her for so long, so why doesn’t he feel relieved? Why does he feel guilty? He decided to stop dwelling on it and get on with life. He figured it would happen eventually if it hadn’t happened then.

---

It had been a year since that day. The day you left your old life behind and started a new life, a better one. One where you weren’t constantly ignored. One where you actually had more than one person care about you. Instead of seeing yourself as a failure and disappointment, you now saw yourself as an amazing person (which you always were). You had been going to a community college in Star City. You made many friends there and started up a music career with three of them.

Their names were f/n, f/n and f/n. You all started off by taking random gigs anywhere you could. You performed covers of songs and would receive standing ovations all the time. Seeing as your group was well liked, you decided to write and produce your own songs. At the age of 19, Y/G/N released their first album. It went viral within a day and everyone was talking about it. After a week, several articles were posted, praising your work. News Stations talked about all the records Y/G/N managed to break. People started to stream it like crazy, and you couldn’t be happier with all the positive feedback you were receiving.

You had been a Wayne once, meaning you had experience in dealing with the media. Since you had already been used to it, you knew you’d all eventually be invited to interviews. So, when you had received an email stating how N/S wanted a one on one interview with you, you weren’t sure how to feel. You weren’t looking forward to interviews with your whole group, let alone one where you would be alone. You knew how unfiltered interviewers could be and didn’t feel comfortable with it.

However, you decided it would be best to go. So here you were, sitting in front of the interviewer in an uncomfortable chair preparing for the interview to start. You had somehow managed to keep a smile plastered on your face the entire time while you were a nervous wreck on the inside. You hoped none of the questions would be sexist as they usually were towards women. However, you had no more time to think about that. You heard clicking, signaling that you were about to go live. Once you heard the last click, you knew you were live and the interview had begun.

“Hello everyone, welcome back to N/S. My name is Jerald Tangleberry and I’m here today with songwriter, singer, and celebrity, Y/N Wayne! How are you?”

You waved to the camera and then answered, “Hello everyone! I’m doing good, how about you?”

“I’m doing great, thanks for asking! So by now I’d assume everyone knows that you’ve released an album with your group. How does it feel to gain more fame?”

“It doesn’t feel any different. Fame wasn’t our goal when we released the album. It was to express ourselves.”

“Mhm, well Ms. Wayne, what inspired you to write songs?”

“Well we know people may be in a tough spot in their life right now and want them to know they aren’t alone.”

“That’s so true. Some fans have been speculating that every member has three songs that specifically relate to them since there are twelve songs in total and three of the songs have the same group member as the introduction part of the song. Is this true?”

“Yes, it is true.”

“So all three of your songs relate to family issues of some sort. Is that hinting that you have family issues?”

“Yes, actually. My family isn’t the best. They ignored me all the time, even when they weren't busy. The only person who didn’t was Jason.”

“You’re saying it in the past tense.”

“I moved out about a year ago. When I was around 14, I suffered from anorexia. My family would always ignore me since they were either busy doing work or hanging out with each other. The only family member that acknowledged me was Jason. I assumed it was because there was something wrong with me. I started to hate myself so much to the point of starvation. One day, I passed out right before a gala and my oldest brother Dick found me passed out on the floor. They took me to the hospital and when I woke up, Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian started fussing about how I’d ruin their image if the media knew what actually happened. They started to yell at me and told me how I was a useless burden. I started to have a panic attack so I kicked them out. Jason stayed behind with me and comforted me. Ever since then I made a planed to save enough money so I could move out when I turned 18, which I did.”

“Oh, wow. So Jason was the only one who interacted with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Looks like the Wayne family isn’t as perfect as they seem.”

“No family is actually perfect.”

“Did your family try contacting you at all after they found out about Y/G/N?”

“Not yet. They’re probably too busy or don’t care.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright, I got over it. What’s the next question.”

“Oh-” He cleared his throat and continued the interview. (So basically I don’t wanna bore you all lol)

---

Jason had woken up late into the afternoon that day. Patrol that morning had exhausted him. There was a huge breakout at Arkham they had assisted with. They successfully locked up every escapee, so today, Jason just wanted to relax until it would be time for patrol again. Even though he was exhausted, he knew he couldn’t take a break. The others wouldn’t and it would be unfair to them if he did.

He headed over to his couch with his phone and a bowl of popcorn in hand, ready to watch random movies the entirety of the day. He set down his phone on the coffee tables and grabbed the TV remote. When he turned on the TV, he almost dropped the popcorn and remote. You were sitting on a chair, giving an award winning smile while you politely answered the man’s questions. He was baffled. He didn’t know why you were being interviewed, let alone on TV at all! You made it clear you didn’t want to have any relations with your family any longer and you couldn’t stand publicity, so what were you doing?

He placed the bowl down and snatched his phone off the table. Unlocking his phone, he quickly dialed your phone number. However, he realized that the interview was live and that he would be interrupting it if he called you then. Deciding to wait, he placed his phone back down, picked up the bowl, and then got comfortable.

---

Tag list: @fake-id-69 @pepelachanel @loxbbg @what-0-life @yoongi-holland @omnivorousfangirl @cawcaw-pretty-thing @sexysamsungl @iceddonuts @buginetye @portrait-ninja @azazel-nyx @alculai

[kyberphilosopher]

Smile

Word Count: 3467 Requested: yes. Based off ‘505′ Warnings: strong hints to sexual disposition. Spoilers if you squint.

“I’d probably still adore you with your hands around my neck... I did last time I checked.” -Arctic Monkeys, ‘505′.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

With hoarse breath and unwavering eyes, you look up to the stars as you speak. “So, you’re really going to do it then?”

“I have to,” you hear him say. His voice has gotten far more mature and calm since the first time you’d heard him speak. Still angry and determined, but in an intelligent, adult way. Eren is a more capable person now. The only thing left to do is wait and see if that’s a good thing, or a bad thing. 

“What do you think are the chances of winning?” you question. A shooting star whizzes across the sky at that very moment, and it’s gone before you can think of a wish. 

You turn around to face him, but his eyes are already on you. Once upon a time, Eren’s eyes were emerald and teal and deep. Now they’re paler. They are cold and steady as a byproduct of who he’s become. It’s hard not to wonder what he’s thinking about when he looks at you like this, especially since he’s become harder to read over the years.

At first, Eren was one of the most insufferable people you’d ever met. He acted out so often, it was hard to see him as another person of intelligent life. You mostly just minded your business through your cadet years, usually hanging around Reiner, who was also difficult to see as intelligent life. Sometimes you and Eren would argue, but it was never passionate. You just had different world views. 

Things got better when you found out what Eren really was. Since you hadn’t made top ten, you could only choose between the Garrison Regiment, or the Scout Regiment. And with Eren’s newly discovered power showing the promise of hope, you decided on the Scouts. He liked that. 

After that, it was hard not to mature at the same time as he. Eren often blamed himself for the death and carnage that surrounded the regiment. You were solely responsible for the passing of your best friend. And after everything that happened with the government, almost dying at Shiganshina- you knew you couldn’t stand this much longer. With your relationship with Eren still budding in its early and steamy stages, he was the only one you told of your desertion. You abandoned the corps, finding a small, abandoned farm within wall Maria to hide out in. 

Eren was too tired and sick of everything to think you were being cowardly. He wanted to leave too. Maybe come with you. But Eren had plans in the works that he couldn’t leave alone. He visited you less and less. Luckily you never made a fuss. 

And now Eren wants to end the world, to save the world. How does he expect you to react to this?

“I just thought I should see you,” Eren replies. You know he’s deflecting your question. You’re not stupid. 

You nod slowly, blinking as you think. “Am I going to die?”

Your companion crosses his arms calmly. “Yes,” he tells you. 

There it is. 

“You know I can’t support you in this, right?” you tell Eren, equally as calm. 

He only replies after a moment, also in deep thought. “I know.”

You look back up to the sky, sighing out through your nose. “Why did you come, Eren? Did you want me to tell you that I think you’re doing the right thing? Or was it because you need to let out some anger? I wonder.”

“I did want to see you.”

“Do you still?”

Silence. 

“Yes.”

“And I suppose there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”

“No.”

The stars are glittering with pastel hues, like a rainbow, or kaleidoscope. Each one is a different size, bordering on different shapes, all fusing and melting together like your idea of heaven. You can barely even see the midnight color of the sky through all them. It is beautiful, but it’s also bitter. Everything is bitter, here. 

“I didn’t make myself any dinner yet,” you say. “Couldn’t think of anything.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

When she was alive, Eren’s mother would make a soup for the family. It was creamy, hot, filled with meat and cheese at the bottom. Eren never liked soup, but he did love that dish. She was always sure to make extra for him, so that he could enjoy it for several days. And although it wasn’t until after she was gone that Eren realized he rarely ever thanked her for it, it was still one of the warmest memories Eren had. 

He fills your wooden bowl with it, being awfully generous. He knows that even though you haven’t eaten much in the last few years, you too had grown fond of the soup. He knows no matter how slowly you force it down, you are enjoying it. It burns the roof of your mouth every time, but you’ve never cared. All that matters is the creamy sauce, and the cow cooked to perfection. 

You stare at the fireplace beside you, flames cackling and licking upward. Eren sets the bowl in front of you, and takes the seat on the other side. You know he sets his long hair behind his shoulders. You’re already prepared. From your pocket, you produce a stretchy brown hair tie on the verge of snapping, handing it to him. 

“Thanks,” he says, even though this routine has happened however many times he’s seen you. 

“You’re welcome.”

The soup is as amazing as usual. You’re willing to bet Eren makes it even better than his mother did, but you dare not say it aloud. It’s creamy, perfectly seasoned. It goes down your throat, still steaming. 

“Does Mikasa know about this?” you question, taking one more delicious bite. 

“No. None of them do,” Eren answers. “Armin will figure it out soon.”

“You want me to kill ‘em?”

Eren shakes his head. To a lot of people, this would be taken as a joke. But this is nowhere near it. Your tone is too casual, too low for it to be humor of any kind. And the way the man across from you reacts- he’s thinking the same thing. 

“No.”

“How are they, then?”

Eren thinks as he takes another bite, the warmth creeping up his chest sweetly. “They’re alright for now. I don’t know for how much longer. I can’t see everything.”

“Can you see who’s next?”

He squints at his bowl as if he were angry, but his eyebrows barely move. “Sasha.” 

Sasha. She was always a good presence to have around. While she seemed like the type of person who would annoy you, it was hard to hate her. And you admired her keen intuition anyway. 

“Will you give her something for me?”

Eren nods. Then you both go back to eating for a few seconds, basking in the orange glow from the flames. 

“How are things here?” he questions after a minute. 

“The same,” you tell him. “I think the cow might die soon.”

Some people might reply with condolences, or sympathy. But your lover does not, and you do not expect him to. “I’ll get you a new one,” he says flatly, almost like a promise. You nod once.

Despite the atmosphere which can only be described as bitter, you’re glad to see Eren again. You’re glad that he’s alive, and as alright as he can be. The bed is always colder without him, heated up only by your lingering fingers that you pretend are his every other night. Whenever he leaves an article of clothing behind, usually on purpose, you hold off on washing it so it can smell like him for you as long as possible. Then there are the hair ties you keep either in your pocket or on your wrist, specifically for him. The razors in your cabinet he often didn’t even bother using. 

Even with the sullen demeanor that had managed to overtake both of you, there was at least one thing you cared about in the world still. Maybe it wasn’t the most conventional kind of caring, or the healthiest coping mechanism. But it was still caring. And all that you cared about was him. 

You knew you weren’t Eren’s first priority. You were probably second, or third. It didn’t bother you. Eren’s head was one of the first things lost when the truth was presented to him. It came back coldly and sternly, in contrast to how previously hot and impatient it had been. But by then your head had also grown colder and sterner. In simpler terms, Eren did care for you. He did love you. But he would consider letting you die if it meant achieving what he set out to do, and you knew this. 

Across the table, Eren lifts his head to look up at you as he chews slowly. The burning meal slides down his throat easily, albeit painfully. It doesn’t even register with him, his piercing eyes slowly gaining a glint from the fire light. 

You meet his eyes after a few seconds, feeling them on you. You don’t say a word, don’t even give a questioning look. You just hold him patiently, which is something the two of you find yourself doing often. 

“You can’t stop it,” Eren speaks, looking you dead in the eyes with a steady gaze. There is love behind his eyes, far behind the anger, but you can tell from the tone of voice he is trying to tell you something as if it were an order. Your lips part slightly from the intensity radiating from your lover, who doesn’t move a muscle. “You’ll be free soon.” 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Dinner ends. Eren helps clean up the dishes for you and goes to get water from your well so you can clean easier. You already know from the way his thumb brushed against your own when you took the bowls that you’ll likely be bent over the sink in a few minutes, which you don’t mind, but you wonder if he’ll be willing to be softer than usual as an apology for what he’d said earlier. 

He’d meant to scare you. You’re intelligent enough to figure that out. Even though you don’t scare easy, and you didn’t even give an extreme reaction, the look in Eren’s eyes had made your heart drop to your stomach. Sometimes you forget that Eren sees everything. Then he says something like that to remind you in the most memorable way. 

The wooden door opens and closes behind you. Boots scuff the ground for a few seconds, drawing closer and closer as something in you sparks with anticipation, as it always does. A pail of water hits the surface beside you, partially sloshing over the sides, shining silver in the moonlight from the tall window in front of you. Finally, ultra hot hands slide around your waist and push gently but tightly against where your ribs diverge. 

A jaw leans down on your right shoulder, chin poking against your collarbone. Locks of hair brush against your own, just as the hand on the left runs across your side to finally put a small band in your pocket. 

“I did miss you,” Eren’s low voice seemingly growls, his chest rumbling softly against your back. 

“I was thinking about you,” you admit with monotone, knowing your lover can read through it like as easily as a knife slices through skin. 

“I hope I didn’t worry you,” he says, though you can also read through his own tone. He probably didn’t care about worrying you. He definitely doesn’t still. 

“You didn’t.”

You place a both bowls in the sink, running your fingers over the dirty spoons. Eren’s orbs follow your movement. You can feel his chin change positions ever so slightly in the coming seconds. 

“Can you pass me the rag?” you ask, eyes focused on a piece of food on the spoon that doesn’t even exist. 

In response, Eren doesn’t pass you anything. Only his right hand gives you any kind of acknowledgement, passing from on your ribs to down lower. His fingertips skin over the erogenous zone under the waistband of your undergarments. 

“I worried about you,” Eren murmurs boldly. The hot fingertips pass under the cloth finally, pricks of stubble on his jaw scratching your neck and shoulder as he shifts. “I wanted you to be okay.” His left hand raises to grasp the breast above it. Slowly at first, then firmly, like a warning. Everything is a warning with him. 

Your head lulls back uncontrollably. The back of your hair matts up as it rolls against his own shoulder. 

“I said you worried me,” your partner grumbles. “Did you hear me?”

“No,” you lie lowly, refusing to let your voice shake despite the shiver in your throat. 

“Mm,” Eren hums in condescending understanding. A force presses against your core, which has turned burning hot and ice cold at the same time. The force pulls away, a string of something smooth and slimy following it that makes a sound draw from your lips. It’s high pitched, weak, and unstoppable. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so associated with Eren. 

His hand gives your breast a firm squeeze, soreness blossoming from the center. Your back arches quickly and returns lax against him, though now something pokes against your bottom that makes your eyes pop open with a new alertness. Eren’s hand gives you no time again. From your chest, it flies to your throat, holding it back with soft strictness as the other finally dips into the hot pool between your hips. 

“I worried about you.”

A strangled groan releases from between your lips again, this time fully carried up through the air. To Eren, it must sound like nothing more than music, or background noise. 

Thick cylinders pump inside you to the knuckle. They feel better than your own. They always have. 

It feels good. Full. Tight and fast and like the inside of you is quivering under the weight of something that you can’t see or hear. Eren is like a blanket supporting you from falling over, keeping you upright with his grip and his fingers buried inside of you. Prodding every angle, every spot. Not necessarily romantically, but still lovingly. He has always had this goal during intimacy. Nothing matters but communicating to you just how close he wants to be. 

“Eren,” you choke, a dribble of spit sliding from the corner of your lips. 

“Again,” he hisses in response. His fingers hit a tight spot, making every muscle in your body clench at the same time. 

You don’t say another word, your mouth hanging partially open as you focus on everything around you. And it’s all Eren Jaeger. His smell, his growls, his voice, his breathing, his chest, his muscles, his hair, his anger, his bitterness, his intelligence, his determination. It’s overwhelming. It reminds you of getting swept in one of those waves at the ocean he described to you. He’s yours. No- more likely, you’re his. End of story. 

“I said again.”

“Eren,” you moan.  

His head nuzzles into your neck comfortingly, his fingers pushing faster and harder. You can feel how warm you are, never mind how slick. And the way your own body holds around his digits every time he pulls away is enough to make you all the more warm and slick. 

But then...

What is he doing?

He had said “you’ll be free soon”. And yet, here he is, gripping you tightly as he forces you into the corner of submitting. And yes, it is hot. It arouses you as it always has. But something about it makes your stomach turn into a knot of unpleasantness, in contrast to the other one of liquid pleasure. 

“Eren,” you strain, squirming against him. 

Eren speeds up again. A grunt falls from his own mouth from his own power, and you know he’s getting off almost as much as you are. It doesn’t stop feeling good. Feeling euphoric. 

It’s getting rougher. Rougher and harder and faster, more intense. 

“Eren.”

Another gruff moan from him. 

“Eren! Stop! Stop!”

Eren’s palm softens away at once. It lifts away, his eyes opening and his hand stilling inside of you. He watches you shake as you gaze up to the ceiling, wide eyed. Your thighs sputter, entire body twitching. You didn’t cum. 

His eyes trail over you. You’ve worked up a steady sweat glistening and glowing, shivering and shaking and quaking because of him in the best way. You’re his. His partner, his friend, his ally he knows for a fact he can rely on.

“C-can we... Eren...” 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Drips of water dribbling down Eren’s temple. One of your hands are threaded in his brunette locks, holding them back so you can have an uninterrupted view. The other hand is dabbing cloth against his forehead and hairline, bathing him softly. 

He’d gone a while without bathing again. You could tell. Eren’s eyes are glued to yours, deep teal memorizing all the flecks in your own as if he hadn’t a million times over. 

Eren loves you. Dearly. He’d travel all seven hours and forty five minutes just to tell you that. He doesn’t know what made you stop earlier. He doesn’t ask. But he’s not mad. Overall, Eren understands that it doesn’t matter what you asked to stop for. You give the word, he obeys. Not because he has to, but because he loves you. 

Still, he knows something is wrong. You don’t show it. You’re steady, calm, mature, apathetic as always. But in the pit of Eren’s stomach, something brews. A warm, strange feeling of intuition and omniscience. 

“You look very pretty today,” Eren ventures, wondering only of your response. “Did I tell you that?”

Your eyes squint. “Thank you,” you reply back. 

The cloth continues to rub against his skin, cleaning something that probably doesn’t even exist. Dirt, maybe. Eren’s stopped taking care of his skin in the past few years. 

“You’re welcome.”

Your eyes squint again. This time, they gloss over with sharp wetness like glass. The eyebrows crease like a break, your bottom lip trembling as you suck it between your teeth. 

He doesn’t know what he was expecting. But your lover wasn’t expecting this. 

Eren hates when you cry. He can remember the first time he’d seen it, but not the most recent. You didn’t cry often- you were strong. Crying over something as useless and flimsy as emotions didn’t seem worth it. So what was this for? What were you about to make Eren break down inside over?

Your hand falls limply from his forehead. Shoulders hunch over in defeat, staring down at the floor as your hair covers over your face. And then the sniffles come, choked out coughs like sobs. 

Eren can see the lightest of bruises he’d left on you from earlier, but you’d never had a problem with it before. No, it was something else. But what?

Silent, your teeth grit together as you wince, tears streaming down your face inexplicably. 

“Earlier w-when you,” you gulp, snot beginning to form, “when you- I did worry a-about you. I- I don’t know why I didn’t...”

You stumble forward. Eren stands from your bath tub to catch you as you slump against him tiredly. 

“I hate it when you go.”

Eren switches positions with you, pushing you down to sit on the edge of the tub. He takes the wet rag from your hand and holds your shoulder back so he can have a good look at you. Then the cloth dabs against your own forehead, just as you had done to him. 

“I hate it here,” you sigh, a single tear drop blurring your vision as it falls finally. 

Your lover moves the cloth from your head to your cheeks, smearing the wetness into your skin and away. They moisten and dry, your eyes red and shiny. Eren tilts your head up under your jaw, creasing his brows and using the towel to clean closer to your eyes. 

“If it helps,” he says, looking straight into your eyes, “you’re crying, but I still think you look pretty.”

You’d be lying if you said that didn’t help even a little, because you love him. 

A soft smile creeps to your lips, your hands dropping in between your thighs. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

No I didn’t reread this lmfao enjoy. Hope I did you justice anon

[lonely-lost-soul]

Let Me Worship You

(C!Technoblade X Gn!Reader)

Request 9: Could I perhaps request a c!techno x gn!reader where maybe the reader is good friends with Dadza and meets Techno one day and they fall for each other? Bonus if the reader is maybe a great builder like dadza but too shy to actually meet anyone so they just build things quietly and then move on and no one but dadza really knows them? Soft! and/or protective! Techno would be cute but not needed!! 😊😊😊

Requested By: 🍀 Anon

I hope you don't mind the shameless art I made for this lol.

At this point in his life, Technoblade had known Phil for centuries, they started their own brief empire together and he watched him raise Wilbur the best a single father could. It was about five years ago when you started following Phil around, the first time Technoblade met you was entirely by accident. He just needed to drop off some building supplies to Phil and Wilbur when he saw you trifling through Phil’s stuff, you had gorgeous white wings and when the sun hit them just right he saw flecks of gold peek through. His piglin side was immediately enamored with the gold wanted to reach out and run a delicate hand through the feathers. Technoblade set his jaw and summoned his ax to his side, you turned around (e/c) eyes widening with shock and fear. Technoblade couldn’t help but feel pure satisfaction rush through his veins seeing your fright. You held up your hands and everything you were holding tumbled to the ground, wings puffing up with shock and horror. Hearing the noise Phil wandered into the room and was quick to diffuse the situation, you hid behind the taller male and Techno gave a grunt of an apology in your direction.

From that moment forward you were as much of a staple in his life as Phil was, Phil had explained Wilbur had found you half dead a little ways away from his home. You had wings like his and Phil couldn’t let you die without answers, his crows would never let him live it down. After he got what he needed from you, Phil noticed just how handy you were around the house especially when you were building things so he kept you around. Technoblade never really interacted with you unless Phil was there to interpret, you weren’t much of a talker and Technoblade was never one for long-drawn-out conversation anyway. However, when Phil had killed Wilbur and he and Technoblade had to move north you inevitably followed the birdman. That’s when Technoblade really began to understand and get to know you and your little quirks. He noticed that when you concentrated on blueprints to a certain build you’d stick your tongue out all cute like, or the soft songs you’d hum when you thought no one was listening.

But Technoblade always listens.

He also noticed that since you and Phil had moved in there was an abundance of not only Phil’s crows flying around but a few stray morning doves pecking at the snow as well.

With the encouragement of the voices, Technoblade had gathered up enough courage to attempt to hold onto a conversation with you. As he walked up to you he noticed the soft coo of a dove was heard, catching your attention. You turned around and your eyes locked with his own, he watched your shoulders tense and face flush a little as he approached you.

Off to a rocky start already. Great.

“Ugh. Hey?” Technoblade grunted hands crossing over his chest,

‘Hey? HEY? is that the best you can do? Look at them they’re cowering. Good, they should be, which means we’re well known.’

Technoblade cleared his throat a little as you held up a hand with a shy wave, “hello.” You greeted, your voice was soft and sweet like honey in his ears. The exact opposite of Wilbur and Tommy’s, he found himself enjoying the tone. “So um...did I do something wrong?” Your wings folded back and he watched you methodically run your fingers through the feathers.

‘Look at the gold flecks! I want them! I wanna pet them they’re so cute! So small and helpless like a little worm. Worm? Really? What it’s an analogy! A bad one! Shut up she’s giving us a look!’

“No? Did you do something I should be concerned about?”

“No!” You sputtered out in panic, dropping the bricks in your hand stumbling back so they wouldn’t crush your toes.

You had fast reflexes, that’s good.

The morning dove around you cooed in distress fluttering up to your shoulder, nesting there like it was its home. “I’m alright,” You whispered eyes going soft as you scratched under the bird’s chin, Technoblade watched with interest. Technoblade gathered why Phil really liked you, you were almost an exact replica of the mild manner builder, other than the anarchist tendencies.

“Didn’t mean to make you drop your stuff,” Technoblade clicked his tongue softly bending down to gather your materials. “Where do you want them?”

“You don’t have to-”

“I asked you a question kid.” Your mouth snapped shut and your lips pressed into a thin tense line. Technoblade observed as your eyebrow twitched, oh you were annoyed. You didn’t voice your annoyance he couldn’t help but mentally comment how cute that look was on you. A huff spilled past your lips and you directed him where to place the bricks in their proper locations. The both of you fell into light conversation after that, he caused you to laugh a few times and it made him feel oddly warm inside. He didn’t even realize that the sun began to set until you pointed it out, Technoblade rubbed the stubble on his chin glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. You were staring up at the sunset, the orange and red colors shone through the gaps in your feathers, your eyes were alight with wonder. You looked like an old Greek statue, an angel carved out of the finest marble and gemstones.

He flushed when you turned to face him, embarrassed to have been caught staring at you so blatantly. You smiled the tips of your pointing ears turning pink, “You should stay the night.” Technoblade spoke without really thinking about the consequences, “there’s plenty of room.”

“Alright. I think I will. It’s not safe flying at night anyway.” Your smile only growing in size at his offer, he made the right decision then, he led you and your little dove through the snow and into his cabin.

Spring rolled around and there was a little house set up right next to Technoblade’s home. It fit his aesthetic nicely, made out of wood, and always had its lanterns lit, it was your home. However, you began to spend most of your time at Technoblade’s home talking with the retired Blood God. You and Phil also had begun molting which was Technoblade’s least favorite time of the year mostly because of all the feathers. However, this year in particular he was particularly enamored with your shiny golden feathers he would find around his home. Maybe he collected them and kept them in his ender chest, it wasn’t creepy he was cleaning. At least that’s what Technoblade told himself, not because he found your feathers beautiful or anything and was enamored by the shine.

“Hey Kid,” Technoblade asked from his seat across from you in his sitting room, you picked your head up and tilted it to the side in a questioning manner. Your wings were ruffled, messy and you looked uncomfortable to be interrupted from your grooming. “Need some help?” He watched your entire face turn bright red in the process, “look you can say no. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable!” You argued, “just caught off guard a little Tech. I never thought it’d be something you were interested in.” Standing up from the chair you spread your wings wide, pulled over a stool, and flopped in front of Technoblade. He was a little shocked at how quickly you agreed, they must’ve really been bothering you.

“Do I...just stick my hands in there or…”

You tossed your head back and let out a roaring laugh,

“heh? What’s so funny huh? I don’t wanna hurt you.” Technoblade snapped at you with an embarrassed huff, your laughter slowly dyed down after a few more seconds.

“Sorry I just. Is that what you say to the ladies too?” Technoblade choked and blanked never once have you said something so dirty before, he didn’t even know you were capable of making jokes like that.

“I say that to everyone actually, I don’t discriminate to just women- I’m not helping my case am I? I should stop talking.” It only served to send you into another set of loud giggles, Technoblade was red in the face and stuck his hands into the little feathers by your back. He felt you tense up for a moment before relaxing into his touch, you let out a soft sound of pleasure. Technoblade chose to ignore the sound even if it sent the voices into a frenzy, to mark and claim, and...he was absolutely not going to finish that thought. You both sat there for about an hour and thirty minutes, fixing up your feathers making you preen at the touches. You were smiling like an idiot by the time he was done and you spread your feathers wide, almost like you were showing them off. Technoblade couldn’t help but feel proud that you liked the work he did so much,

“They’re so soft! Thank you Techno!” You turned towards him, eyes practically glowing with adoration. His face turned red, you were stunning, he kissed you that night and by wintertime, the both of you were an official couple.

Phil was quick to catch onto the change in demeanor between the couple, he clapped Techno on the back as congratulations. You were out on another building project, making a little farm because you knew how much Technoblade loved potatoes, you really were attentive. Surprising Technoblade, Phil had also threatened his first cannon life if he ever hurt you in any way, shape, or form. Techno was a little surprised Phil would go as far as to threaten him, but he promised his old friend he wouldn’t let any man, woman, or creature lay their hands on you, including himself.

It was the dead of winter and temperatures had dropped drastically, Technoblade had made both you and Phil warm clothes for the occasion that matched with his own winter gear. He had given you a friendship emerald and in return, you made him a necklace with one of your golden feathers on it.

Technoblade cherished the gift with his entire being. On occasion, while he was out on a long journey he’d press gentle kisses to it when he missed you, and he swore sometimes he swore it moved on its own. He walked into the cabin to see you spread across his couch, a book on your lap, wings curled in tight against your body. He smiled softly dropping the wood he gathered by the door, he snuck over to you and pressed a kiss against your cheek.

“Hi, sunshine,” You greeted turning your head to look at him, his face burned and his chest filled with warmth. Technoblade moved to sit in your lap with a smirk, he plucked the book from your hands to look at the cover. You frowned in his direction, “You lose my spot and I’m hitting you over the head with it.”

“Violent.” He tutted softly bopping you on the head with said book, you shot him a cold look.

“Hypocrite.”

“Nerd.” He responded casually, you let out a little huff, wings ruffling in frustration.

There’s that look, he loved that look. God, you were so cute.

You slapped your hands on his cheeks, and it shocked him back to attention. He felt your fingers spread across his cheeks and your thumbs brush against the apples of his face. Technoblade’s eyes softened and he snuggled into your open palms, he saw you smile and his eyes dropped to a content close. Technoblade did something he hadn’t done in years, he felt the rumble in his throat before it happened, he purred.

His eyes snapped open with fear and embarrassment, but the way your eyes were sparkling quelled the feelings immediately.

“Did you just purr?”

“So what if I did?” He grumbled another purr mixing with a growl,

“That’s the cutest thing in the entire world Mr. Big Bad anarchist. You only purr for me?” The light teasing in your voice sent him aflame, “Aw you do!” You cooed rubbing his cheeks with your thumbs again, he buried his face in your chest as more purrs spilled from his mouth without him wanting them to. “No need to hide it, keep them purrs coming.” Technoblade’s entire face was red as you reached forward to pluck his glasses from his nose. You placed them on the end table and grabbed a blanket wrapping you both inside a cocoon of warmth.

“You tell anyone about this and we’re breaking up.”

“Deal. Your secrets safe with me.” You hummed quietly running his hands through his pink locks melting against your touch. He finally relaxed completely resting the side of his head against your chest to listen to your heartbeat. Technoblade purred and you could feel the rumbles of his chest against your own. The ferocious Blade was akin to a cat, grumpy on the outside but a big softie who wanted attention on the inside. Leaning forward you kissed his forehead, another louder purr was pulled from the man and pressed his forehead back against your lips. “Good boy.~” You teased scratching under his chin he sent you a tired look but the redness in his cheeks gave away how much he enjoyed the praise.

“Shut up. You’re being cringe.” He growled with no real bite or fire,

“Take a nap big guy. You deserve one. You’re safe with me.” Technoblade yawned loudly at your words, his jaw unhinging a little, only proving to show how tired he really was. “I’ll protect you, always.” Technoblade smiled sheepishly and allowed himself to let his guard down just this once to fall asleep in his lover’s arms.

[jikookiekosmos]

Use My Best Colors For Your Portrait || jjk

➥Pairing: best friend!jungkook/reader, boyfriend!jungkook/reader, artist!jungkook

➥Summary: After surprising Jungkook with his own studio room for his paintings, he couldn’t be any more over the moon. All’s well and good until he’s struggling to find inspiration...which you happily provide him with. He’s ecstatic to find his muse in you, and painting your portrait brings him so much joy. Things take a turn however, when he suddenly realizes what else he wants to paint.

➥Genre: established relationship, tiny bit of angst if you squint, fluff, smut

➥Rating: 18+

➥Words: ~7.9k (small drabbles don’t exist for me apparently, oops)

➥Content warnings: most of this at the beginning is just cute fluff domestic times (finally not much angst!), blonde jungkook, jk ties his hair up at some point (my weakness), jk puts paints on the reader, making out, slight hair pulling, cursing, shower sex times, jungkook has a big dick, oral (m. receiving), very slight mouth fucking, dirty talk, fingering (very brief), unprotected sex (safe sex is great sex), biting, cumming inside, cute times in the shower, jungkook is actually the sweetest, reader and jk are so in love with each other it hurts, also jk saying ‘only for you’ is a thing i started and can’t stop now oops

A/N: hello! This is part of my Only for You (OFY) Drabble series, but it can be read as a stand-alone! Their relationship will make a lot more sense though if you’ve read OFY beforehand. This fic takes place roughly around six months after the events of OFY (so in between that and the dream drabble I also posted).

Once again, thank you to @dntaewithluv​ for her endless support and always giving me feedback, I forever appreciate you and your friendship is more than I could ever ask for 💜

I’ve written a few other drabbles and will list them below, along with a general timeline:

When I Dream of You - ~1 year after OFY

Stay With Me - a few months after the dream drabble

Also, I hope that if you read this, you enjoy it~

➥OFY Spotify Playlist (songs I listened to for inspo)

➥Series Masterlist

➥All Works Masterlist

taglist: @inlovewiththemoonn​

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

You would do absolutely anything in the world for Jeon Jungkook.

Seeing him happy had to be at the top of your list of favorite things in the world, as it had been for many years as his best friend, and now in the several months since the two of you started dating. Some things just never changed, you guessed.

Which is why you took it upon yourself to change one of the spare rooms in the house you two were renting into a space where he could thrive as the artist he was. Initially, the two of you thought it would be nice to use that space as a work area for you, since your job required you to sometimes do work from home. And for a little while, that’s exactly what you did.

But ever since you found out Jungkook liked to paint – scratch that, he loved to paint, and had been doing so for longer than you thought – the gears started turning in your head.

The current space he was using to create his art was definitely less than ideal. The house had a decent sized garage area, so there was enough room for him to store his supplies and be able to paint without it being too much of an issue. The downside, though, was it was cramped and even though Jungkook said he didn’t mind it, you still couldn’t help the frown from masking your features whenever you saw him huddled up so close to his easel.

For the last few weeks, and with lots of help from internet searches, you’d been slowly converting your space into something like a studio. You didn’t have to worry about Jungkook finding out, either, since he very rarely went into that room seeing as he had no reason to. He respected your privacy the same as you respected his, so this made everything infinitely easier for you in the long run.

The day had finally arrived where you would show the new space to Jungkook. Everything was set up as perfect as you could manage it – at least you hoped so – and you were dying of excitement to show him as soon as possible.

You were also, however, incredibly nervous at the same time. What if he didn’t like it? Even worse, what if he hated it?

Of course, you knew deep down that there was no way Jungkook could hate anything you ever did, unless it was something horrible, but you worried about everything because that’s just how you were. So, when the two of you were sitting at the dinner table one night, you tried hard to swallow the lump in your throat as you listened to Jungkook talk about his newest work.

“I really think you’re gonna like how this one turns out, angel.” Jungkook was offering you a sweet smile as he went to grab another bite of food from his plate. You managed to smile back, despite the hammering of your heart against your chest. He was basically handing you the perfect opening for you to segue the conversation!

“I know I’ll love it, Koo.” You watched as his small smile turned into a full grin, his nose scrunching up in that adorable way that had you falling in love with him all over again every time you saw it.

“Speaking of your paintings,” you started off, clearing your throat while he swallowed down his food. He looked at you with his undivided attention and it made your heart skip a beat.

Ok let’s be real, every damn thing this man did made your heart skip a beat.

“Yeah? What about them?” He twirled more of the noodles around his fork while he waited on your answer.

You gulped. “Wouldn’t you like it if you had more space?”

Jungkook chuckled and placed his fork down, shaking his head as he placed on hand on top of yours that was still resting by your plate. You’d barely touched your food and he noticed.

“Baby,” he started, “as much as I would love to have a bigger space, what I have now is just fine. I know you think it’s stifling my creativity in there, but I’m still creating things and am comfortable.” He squeezed you hand gently before returning to his food.

“I get that you think the garage is fine but what if I told you that- that you could have a bigger workspace.” You finally picked up your fork and were poking around at your own food now, avoiding his gaze. You could feel his stare boring into you regardless, though.

“I mean – yeah, hypothetically I could have more space, but it’s not in the cards for us right now and that’s ok, too. Maybe one day.”

The way he always was optimistic about your future together made you feel warm all over. Jungkook liked to look on the bright side of every situation, and it’s been enough to help you keep your own wits about yourself numerous times now.

But this time you wanted to show him that the future could be closer than he realized.

“Koo, can you come with me real quick? I have something I want to show you.”

You didn’t miss the confused look that flashed across his face for a second before his calm demeanor took over again.

“Of course.” He hopped up from the table, that smile you adored now plastered on his face. “Lead the way.”

“Ok but I also need you to close your eyes.” You reached out to take his hand and were rewarded with an eyebrow raise.

He hummed thoughtfully but did as you asked, closing his eyes and grasping your hand tighter so you could lead him wherever you planned to.

You walked through the house pulling him behind you, feeling your heartbeat quicken with every step to where its pace was almost concerning. Whether or not it was mostly from excitement or nervousness, you weren’t sure.

You finally reached your destination and let go of his hand so you could open the door.

“Keep your eyes closed, ok,” you asked. Jungkook simply nodded and you saw a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He had no idea what you were about to show him, but knowing you and how much he loved pretty much anything you did, he was sure it’d probably make him happy.

And he couldn’t have been more correct in his assumption.

At the quiet sound of you telling him he could open his eyes he did so, slowly at first, blinking to adjust to the light the now flooded over the both of you. It took him several seconds to register exactly what he was seeing, and when he did he couldn’t speak. All he could do was stare around the room, mouth agape.

Decorating the walls were the paintings he had given you, beautiful works of various sizes and themes. Alongside the far wall was a tall shelf that housed all his supplies (how had you managed to get them past him without him noticing?), and even some new things like paints he’d been eyeing for a while and other tools he hadn’t had a chance to get himself yet.

But in the middle of the room stood his easel and chair, set up in the similar fashion as it had been in the garage. His apron was draped across the back of the chair, and there was even tarp laid out underneath the workspace. You research had paid off because everything was set up in such a way that it created the perfect atmosphere for Jungkook’s creativity to shine through in ways it hadn’t been able to before.

You weren’t aware of this yet, however, because you were still watching Jungkook’s reaction. He still hadn’t said anything, and as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, you started to wonder if this was the right call-

Strong arms were pulling you up from the ground and spinning you around before you could process it, making you squeal with delight as Jungkook twirled you before bringing you back down to pepper kisses all over you face.

“Angel, I can’t believe this, you did all this for me?” He was still holding onto your hips tightly, beaming as he looked down at you. Your nod and giggle was all the confirmation he needed before he pulled you into another kiss, this one slightly more heated than the ones before.

“Do you like it,” you questioned when the both of you pulled away to breathe. Jungkook laughed before taking your face in his hands and brushing his nose along yours.

“Do I like it? Baby, I love it. It’s perfect! Thank you so much.” Another kiss. “I love it and I love you, I love you so fucking much.”

His happiness made your heart soar and you definitely knew that you’d do something like this an infinite amount of times if it meant he’d keep that smile on his face.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

A few weeks passed by and Jungkook had been using his new studio nearly everyday at this point. His creations had been increasing in numbers and he was starting to receive commissions from others thanks to his small online shop he’d set up with your help. He still worked at the bar as his primary job, but he was also grateful to have a hobby on the side that could potentially yield something lucrative.

Of course, Jungkook’s increase in his time spent on his art still didn’t take away from his time with you. If anything, it gave the both of you another way to spend time together, since now there was enough space for you to sit in and observe him paint when you couldn’t before. You often sat quietly and either did some of your own work or engaged in your own hobbies while he painted, and it was always peaceful.

There came a day, though, that you never thought you’d experience: Jungkook had run out of inspiration. He’d hit his first real artist’s block and it was taking a bigger toll on him than he would’ve liked.

You rubbed his shoulders as he sat in front of his easel one night, groaning in frustration about his current work. “It’s not turning out at all like I want it to. I’ve been struggling with finding new inspiration and it clearly shows in whatever this is.” He vaguely gestured to the canvas, prompting you to place a kiss on his cheek as you ran your hand through his pretty blonde hair. You knew that always helped to calm him down and this case was no exception.

Jungkook sighed heavily, turning to place a kiss on your palm that was still lingering around his face. “Sorry, I don’t mean to get worked up. It just sucks, you know? I’d been on this really good streak of creating things and now I just…can’t. It’s weird and I don’t like it.” He pouted slightly and the sight made you giggle.

“I know, baby, but you’ll figure something out. You always do.” You placed a kiss on top of his head before you walked around to sit on his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and one of his hands cradled your waist to steady you.

He was humming thoughtfully as he looked you up and down, your hands now playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“What are you thinking about?”

He smiled slyly. “You.”

You rolled you eyes before returning the smile. “Ok, what about me? I’m curious.”

His hand was rubbing up and down your side. “Nothing in particular, just usually looking at you can help me with inspiration.”

His confession made you gasp. “Really?”

He nodded and smiled wider. “Really. You inspire me a lot.” He placed a chaste kiss on your lips before sighing again. “This time though it’s not really working like I’d hoped.”

You watched his eyes close and his brows furrow before an idea popped into your head. “Hey,” you reached down to tilt his chin up so he’d look at you, “It might be a long shot, but: have you ever considered painting portraits?”

He pursed his lips as he thought about it. The simple act made you want to kiss him but now wasn’t the time.

“Honestly…no. I’ve never thought about it before because I usually prefer to paint scenery.”

You searched his eyes as you asked your next question. “Well, if you want to try, maybe you could paint me? Even if it doesn’t go anywhere, maybe it can help spark a new idea or something?”

You watched as his eyes slowly lit up at your suggestion, his face morphing into a smile that you mirrored.

“That’s a great idea! It’s something new and it also includes you, so I already love it.” You chuckled in his lap as he hugged you closer, placing a small kiss on your neck. “Thank you.”

You ran your hands through his hair again before leaning back. “Anything for you. Do you want to start now?”

He thought about it for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, we can do that. Is there, uh – was there something specific you wanted to wear for it?”

You wiggled your eyebrows suggestively. “Are you suggesting you want to paint a nude portrait?”

Even though Jungkook knew your body better than you did at this point, your words still managed to make him blush as he groaned. “No, I wasn’t thinking that- not that I’d mind of course just you know, whatever makes you comfortable-”

You laughed at his flustered nature before hopping off his lap. “You’re so cute. I’ll go find something to change into, it shouldn’t take long.”

“R-right,” he stuttered, still clearly somewhat affected by what you had said. You shook your head with amusement as you went to your bedroom to find something to wear. You settled for a purple dress that you knew Jungkook loved, and considering a lot of his paintings involved shades of purple and blue, you figured it would be perfect.

You knew you made the right choice when you stepped back into the room and saw Jungkook’s face when his eyes fell on you. He looked like he’d never seen someone so beautiful (he looked at you like that a lot and it always did something to you) and your lips curled upwards into a smile before you could realize it.

You stopped in the doorway and twirled, giving him a full view of the dress. “Is this ok?”

You already knew the answer, but it was always nice to hear him say it.

He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, it’s perfect. You can, uh, you can take a seat whenever you’re ready.”

While you were changing, Jungkook had pulled one of the loveseats from the living room into the space so you’d have somewhere to sit or lay while he painted you. The loveseat was a dark blue color and it contrasted beautifully against the color of your dress. You decided to lay on it in a comfortable pose, and you couldn’t help the small giggle you let out at Jungkook’s reaction to your choice.

You had laid an arm behind your head, turning your face so you were looking at him while the rest of your body was sprawled out on the loveseat. One of your legs dangled over the side, making the skirt of your dress hike up somewhat. You were very comfortable, and Jungkook was very happy with your pose.

“Make it pretty, ok,” you joked with him. He smirked at your comment.

“You know I will. I’ll use my best colors, just for you.”

“Wow, I feel special,” you quipped back. You were rewarded with the sound of his beautiful laughter as it echoed off the walls.

“You’re the most special,” he admitted honestly. You gave him a brilliant smile and he felt his heart stutter.

With the way you were looking at him, Jungkook thought that if he didn’t start painting, he may never start. So, he forced himself to tear his eyes away from you so he could find the paints he needed to get started. He tied up his hair, a few of the blonde strands escaped and framed his face but he didn’t seem to mind it too much as he got to work.

Thankfully, since you’d chosen a good position, the process was easier than you thought it would be. You just had to lie there and watch him work, which you happily did. You enjoyed watching his face scrunch up in concentration before relaxing again as he brushed stroke after stroke onto the canvas.

You were so beyond proud of him that it made your heart swell inside your chest.

Jungkook had been painting for a little over half an hour before he announced it was time to take a break. He could paint for hours on end without stopping, but that was when he didn’t have a live subject he was working with. He walked over to you with a bottle of water so you could sip from it without having to disturb your position too much.

You sat up slightly so you could drink, and while you did so, one of your dress straps started falling down your arm. Jungkook immediately went to move it back into place, but as he did, he couldn’t help but stare at the dark contrast of the purple satin against your skin. He thought it was so pretty, and his mind started wandering to how the paint itself might look-

He shook his head to rid himself of the thought. He may have been covered in paint himself, but that didn’t mean he needed to go putting paint on you.

When you were re-situated on the loveseat once more, Jungkook strolled back over to this easel. Unfortunately, since that thought of you covered in paint first took up residence inside his head, he now found it hard to focus on anything else. While he stared at you to try and resume your portrait, he just kept picturing you with painted streaks covering your skin instead.

You must have noticed he was distracted because soon you were calling over to him. “Kook? Is something wrong?”

He gulped and shook his head. “No, nothing’s wrong! You’re doing great, baby.”

“Do you need me some other way?”

Such a simple statement and yet it was stirring something inside of him. Asking him if he needed you a certain way ignited that desire to once again paint you and he found himself unable to hold back from asking anymore.

“Yeah, I uh, I wanted to try something.” You were confused when he got up and started walking toward you, only carrying his paint supplies. At first you thought maybe he just wanted to get closer, but he didn’t bring the easel with him.

“What are you wanting to try,” your voice was laced with curiosity. He gave you a shy smile.

“I was just thinking about how pretty it would be,” he looked down at the floor then back up at your face before he continued, “if I used you as a canvas instead.”

You felt your breath hitch in your throat at the request. Jungkook was asking to paint you, not paint you on a portrait, but to paint you. The suggestion intrigued you a lot more than you thought it would, which is ultimately what led to you nodding your agreement. “I think I’d like to try that, too.”

Jungkook’s face broke into such a dazzling smile that excited you to no end. You watched as he pulled his chair close to you, as well as some tarp to place around the area. When he was situated where he wanted to be, he dipped his brush into some of the purple paint on his palette and gently lifted your arm. The feeling of the paint as it brushed along your arm was foreign but not unwelcome. There was something about it that was almost calming.

You were now also recalling all the times you’d told Jungkook how pretty he looked even covered in paint. The pretty colors contrasting with his beautiful, golden skin tone never failed to take your breath away no matter how many times you saw it. You wondered briefly if this is what he was experiencing now as he took his time painting your skin.

He was focusing on your with such intensity and taking great care to only get the paint where he wanted it, so as to not stain certain parts of you or your dress. The sight of his caution made that familiar warmth bloom in your chest again.

He took his time painting beautiful designs along your arm before moving down to paint on your thighs and legs. He was alternating between purple and blue hues now, and the swirling patterns reminded you a lot of his tattoos that you adored. You had spent many nights lying next to him in bed, tracing the lines of his tattoos until you were too sleepy to keep it up. Seeing the patterns against your own skin briefly made you think about if you would ever want to get a tattoo. Before you put too much thought into it, your attention was pulled back to Jungkook who was sitting up now and admiring his work.

The time had passed by much quicker than you anticipated, and it was starting to get dark outside as the light was no longer filtering in through the windows of the room.

He seemed satisfied as he nodded and smiled. “Wait here, I’ll be right back. Stay just like this,” he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before leaving the room. When he returned, he had his coveted polaroid camera in his hands. Jungkook was also big into photography, and every one of his hobbies suited him perfectly in some way.

“Is it ok if I take a photo of you, baby?”

You grinned and nodded, being careful not to move too much from your current position. He snapped the photo and the polaroid was printing immediately after. When he pulled it from the camera, he laid it down on the table next to his easel so it could develop properly.

Jungkook wiped his hands off on his apron before taking it off and drawing his attention back to you. He could stare at you like this all day, but he knew it would probably be best to get you both cleaned up and paint-free.

He offered a hand for you so he could help pull you off the loveseat. When you were up fully, he wrapped his arms around you, careful to not get any of his exposed, paint-covered skin on your dress.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he murmured softly, brushing some of your hair out of your face as his eyes scanned up and down your body to admire his creation. “And as much as I love seeing it, we should probably get this paint off soon. When it dries too much, it can be a bitch to scrub off, and I don’t want that for you.”

You chuckled at that and simply nodded your head. You’d been lying there for nearly 2 hours at this point, so you were pretty tired and ready to just relax for the night.

The two of you hopped into the shower shortly after, helping each other rid your bodies of the remnants of paint covering you both. You always loved taking showers with Jungkook, because whether or not it was a short, regular shower, or one shared after a night of intimacy, these moments were some that you cherished the most and wouldn’t change for the world.

You got lost in the feeling of Jungkook scrubbing shampoo into your hair, letting out soft noises as your eyes slipped closed.

Your noises always threatened to drive Jungkook crazy, and this time was no exception. He couldn’t deny the stirring of his cock as he listened to the little moans slipping from your mouth at such a simple action.

Of course, since he was so close to you, there was no way you didn’t feel him. His cock was hardening against your thigh, and the fact that you were turning him on by not doing much turned you on.

You could feel the wetness start to slip past your folds, but you decided to not make any moves yet, wondering how far you could take this before either of you snapped. You knew that teasing him was one of the quickest ways to get Jungkook riled up.

“Feels so good, Koo,” you shamelessly moaned out as he kept massaging the shampoo into your hair. You heard him let out a small grunt at your deliberate words, feeling him twitch against your thigh as he got harder.

You leaned your head back to give him a better view of your neck, since you knew he loved to mark you up there. His hands were starting to tangle in your hair, but he took care to not pull too hard as he brought his attention back to the task(s) at hand.

He was currently focusing on two things: 1) getting the rest of the shampoo out of your hair, and 2) not fucking you up against the shower wall. Doing the first thing was currently keeping him from acting on the second, but you certainly weren’t helping with that.

Your head lolled around on your neck, your eyes still closed as your sounds got louder. He knew you were messing with him now, so as retaliation he pulled on your hair a little tighter, making you gasp.

“You’re doing this on purpose, angel,” you could hear the dark tone of his voice over the waterfall in the shower clearly, and it just made you more aroused. You chanced opening your eyes to look at him, and the sight you were met with made you moan louder, this time without trying.

Jungkook was staring at you, mouth slightly parted as he let out pants of his own, his blonde, soaked tresses falling in his face and covering his eyes. His tongue darted out to lick his lips as he tugged on your hair again, making you reach out to place your hands on his chest.

“You’re teasing me to get me worked up, hm?” All you could do was nod, his husky voice and the feeling of his hand wrapped in your hair making you wetter by the second. There was no use in playing coy any longer. You wanted him, and he wanted you.

The question now was: who would make the first move?

You realized that you wanted to be the one to make the first move, so you did.

“So, what if I am,” you asked sweetly, wrapping your hand around his length and pumping him slowly. His eyes closed and he leaned his forehead against your shoulder, fingers now digging into your waist.

“You know what happens when you do that,” Jungkook warned. You absolutely knew what happened, and you definitely wanted it to happen.

“Hmm, I don’t know, maybe you should enlighten me.” You teased him as you gently nibbled on his earlobe, increasing your pace as you continued to stroke him. You heard him let out a soft moan against your shoulder as he placed a kiss there.

With no more hesitation, you turned him slightly and sank down to your knees in front of him, delighted by how his cock jerked in your hold when you steadied it with your hand.

Jungkook stared at you wide-eyed as you started moving your hand around his shaft before placing a gentle kiss on his tip, the prettiest groan falling from his lips. “Fuck, Y/N, are you sure you want to do this?”

You peeked up at him as you fluttered your eyelashes, knowing that seeing you like this always aroused him beyond belief. You continued moving your hand in slow, languid strokes, and he was almost fully hard now.

He let his head hit the wall behind him, soft curses and praises for you tumbling from his mouth. 

Seeing him like this had to be near the top of the list of your favorite sights to ever witness. And right then is when you figured it’d be the perfect time to surprise him. Without a warning you opened your mouth and took all of him in that you could reach.

Jungkook’s reaction was immediate.

“Hey wait what are y- oh my God, fuck.” His loud moan echoed off the walls of the room, causing a fresh wave of arousal to pool between your thighs. You sucked harder as you hollowed out your cheeks, ignoring the way your throat constricted around him.

“Y/N, shit, you feel so good, your mouth- fuck, angel, I don’t want to hurt you,” Jungkook was panting hard above you, eyes shut and brows furrowed, jaw slack as he unabashedly continued to moan at your actions. He was reaching behind him to try and hold something, but the smooth wall had nothing to offer him. His fingers were slipping against the tile, so he gave up and instead settled for clenching and unclenching his fists.

You pulled off him with a pop, a string of saliva left in your wake. You smiled up at him as you kept stroking him, not wanting his pleasure to disappear in the slightest.

“You won’t hurt me, Koo,” you reassured him, earning another groan from the man falling apart under your touch. He twitched in your hold, and you stuck your tongue out again to run it along the underside of his length. 

Jungkook chanced looking down at you, only to look up at the ceiling a moment later while he muttered a strained “holy shit.” 

“C’mon baby, don’t you want to look at me,” you taunted him as your tongue played with the head of his cock, swirling around him. The low groans coming from above you let you know that he enjoyed that a lot.

“Fuck, angel, I-” Jungkook’s sentence died as a moan ripped itself from his throat when you surged back down to take all of him in again. This time you continued moving, feeling the tears in the corners of your eyes but not stopping.

It wasn’t like you’d never sucked him off like this before, seeing as it was one of your favorite activities, after all. But it was a rare occasion where Jungkook would let you take all of him in one go for fear of hurting you. So, you took these chances whenever they presented themselves, and the reward was always, always worth it.

Tears along with the water droplets from the shower were coating your face but you didn’t care. All of your focus was on Jungkook and how he was trying so hard to restrain himself above you. You watched his fists clench and unclench and you could feel himself struggle to keep his hips from moving forward so he didn’t fuck your mouth.

Yeah, you weren’t having that. You wanted him to let go, wanted him to know that it was ok, that you wanted this. You reached out to grab one of his hands and placed it in your hair, relishing in the way his fingers immediately tangled themselves into the wet strands. You pulled your mouth off of him again, but not before letting your tongue drag slowly across every inch of him.

You looked up at him again as you pumped him leisurely, waiting until he brought his gaze down to stare at you, only for him to quickly close his eyes again.

“God, I can’t look at you, like I want to, fuck do I want to, but you look so fucking good like this, I’m not gonna last-”

You always found his stammering to be cute and you didn’t want to torture him too much longer. Deciding that you’d teased him enough, you took all of him into your mouth again, intertwining your fingers with his unoccupied hand and giving it a squeeze. The intimacy of this particular action was always enough to get both of you going, and it had Jungkook’s hips stuttering as you sucked hard.

“Fuck, baby, always take me so good like this. Always so good for me, I love you, fuck,” he was groaning as his head hit the wall behind him again, his hold in your hair tightening the same moment you felt him buck his hips like you’d been wanting all this time.

Unfortunately, for you, whenever Jungkook would fuck your mouth, no matter how much you wanted to sit there and take it without issue, his size always proved to be too big for you to handle and it had you coughing around his length in no time. Which, of course, always made Jungkook stop what he was doing before either of you had the chance to enjoy it much.

“Fuck, baby, I’m so sorry, are you ok?” Jungkook pulled you up while you kept coughing, brushing the wet strands of hair out of your face and looking at you with worry. You nodded and tried to reassure him, wanting to get back on your knees for him, but he held you in place.

“You don’t want me to continue,” you asked, your voice a little more hoarse than usual thanks to what your throat had just endured.

Jungkook shook his head. “No, angel, it’s not that. If you do keep going, I’ll cum in no time.” He brushed some of the water away from under your eyes, not knowing if it was tears or from the shower. He bent down to place a rough kiss on your lips, such a contrast from how his hands caressed your face.

“I want to be inside of you when that happens,” he murmured against you, gently biting down on your bottom lip and pulling a whine from you, in turn causing more wetness to gush between your legs. “If you’ll let me, of course.”

You almost laughed. “Koo, you know I’ll let you do anything at this point.”

He chuckled. “That’s a dangerous admission, baby. You sure about that?”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. “Of course I’m sure. I’d let you do anything you want because I trust you. Because I love you,” it was your turn to kiss him this time, and it was filled with so much passion it nearly made him dizzy. Jungkook could never get tired of the feeling of your lips against his, of hearing you say that you loved him, of feeling your skin pressed against each other during times like these.

Jungkook was hooked on you and he never wanted to go back to a time where he wasn’t.

You pulled him out of his thoughts as you tugged on some of his hair, earning a delicious sounding grunt from him. You whispered your next snarky comment right by his ear.

“You gonna fuck me now, baby?”

Your bluntness had his cock quickly stirring back to life after it had softened some during your coughing incident. He growled low and dark as he started placing love bites on your collarbone.

“Sure you don’t want me to return the favor first, angel?” He was marking up your skin while he asked this, so you almost didn’t realize what he was asking specifically but then it dawned on you.

“As much I love seeing you with your head between my legs,” you responded, tugging on his hair again, “I’d rather have you fuck me up against this wall.”

He moaned against your collarbone, the action vibrating your skin. He pulled off of you and brought your lips to his in a filthy kiss. “Your wish is my command.”

Jungkook lifted you up then by placing his hands under your ass and you got the message, wrapping your legs around him as he held you up. He turned so your back was against the wall, the only things now holding you up being his strong arms and the smooth tile behind you.

He first plunged two fingers inside you without a warning, making you let out a silent scream. He smirked at the way you clenched around his fingers, scissoring them before pulling them out again. You whined at the loss and he shushed you with a gentle kiss on your nose.

“Had to make sure you’re ready, baby.” He had one arm wrapped around your waist, trapped in between your back and the shower wall. With his now free hand, he lined himself up with your entrance, moaning when the tip of his cock was sucked in by your velvety walls.

“Fuck, you already feel so good and I’m barely in yet,” he clenched his jaw as he sank further into you inch by inch. When he finally bottomed out and was filling you up in the best way possible, you clenched around him to tease him further, making him curse.

“Watch it, angel,” he growled. “You’re gonna make it very hard for me to not blow it if you keep doing that, and I want you there with me when I do.”

“Then I guess you’d better start moving,” you teased, wrapping your arms more tightly around his neck. You knew what was coming next; Jungkook would put you exactly in your place, just like you wanted. And for that you needed to hold on tight for dear life because that man could rock you like nothing ever had before.

Jungkook grabbed your hips firmly in his hold as he fucked up into you, making sure you were held against the wall and weren’t in danger of falling down as he did so. Despite this, each thrust had you sliding more up the wall until he would bring you back down again. When he found a pace that was he was sure he could resume without either of you getting hurt, he finally let go.

To say you saw stars would be an understatement. Jungkook was fucking you with so much vigor that you weren’t just seeing stars, you were sure you were seeing entire galaxies. Your sounds kept dying out on your tongue because the feeling was so overwhelming and it had your trembling around him in no time.

“Can’t make any sounds when I’m fucking you this good, angel?” Jungkook was taunting you now and quite frankly, he was right, he was fucking you so good that you were finding it hard to say anything. And the mixture of his dirty words with the sweet pet name you adored had you clenching even tighter around him, causing him to groan loudly and grip your waist tighter.

You eventually found your voice again when Jungkook hit a certain spot inside of you, pulling an embarrassingly loud whine from your throat. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, tears almost brimming in your eyes once again at how good he felt.

“Fuck, Jungkook, feels so good, oh my God-” your praises made him twitch inside you as he moved his hands now from your waist to hold you up by cupping your ass, squeezing tightly in time with his thrusts. He was bouncing you up and down on his cock now with his strength alone, and the thought of it made your orgasm start to approach at an alarmingly fast rate.

“I love feeling you so close like this, I love you, so fucking much, shit-” Jungkook cut himself off as threw his head back to get his hair out of his face, careful not to let his balance falter or his grip slip on you. He had to do it though because his hair was keeping him from seeing your face now that you were leaning your head back against the wall, and he couldn’t have that.

“I love you, Jungkook, I’m close, fuck,” you were breathing hard as you couldn’t control your moans any longer, eyes squeezed shut and tears falling from just how much pleasure you were receiving and also how much you loved this man. Jungkook was the man you’d loved for so many years before you were finally able to call him yours. He always took care of you in every aspect of life, and you reciprocated it as best you could. And it was because of this kind of love you two had for each other that made these intimate times all the more meaningful. You were sitting here, back up against a shower wall in the arms of the man you loved while he rearranged your guts, and it was such an emotional experience alongside being a pleasurable one that the tears actually made sense.

Jungkook bit down on your shoulder and pulled you out of your reverie, making you cry out as he muffled his own sounds against your skin. You could tell by his thrusts that he was getting close now, his grunts happening more frequently and louder, echoing off the tiled shower walls. The water had already started to get cold but neither of you cared. Nothing outside of the two of you existed in this moment, and that was exactly how you liked it.

“Touch yourself for me, baby, I’m close, want you to be there with me,” Jungkook breathed out, his grip on your ass harsher now and you were sure there’d be marks tomorrow. You loved it when he marked you up, and even though he always felt slightly bad about it, you knew Jungkook loved seeing the marks, too.

You obeyed his command and reached down to rub your clit, nearly shrieking at the new wave of pleasure that washed over you. The sensations on your clit, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside of you, the way he was holding you, and all the things he was saying to you was enough to finally push you over the edge.

“Jungkook, I’m cumming, fuck-” you barely had time to utter out your warning before you were cumming hard around his length, your body spasming as he held you through it.

He sped up then, chasing his own high now, the feeling of your walls clenching around him making his eyes roll back. “Fuck, I can feel you, always so perfect for me, I’m close-”

His eyes were closed now so he didn’t see you reach for him. You pulled him closer so you could kiss him, hoping to help him along this way, swallowing down every beautiful sound he was making. “C’mon Koo, cum for me, wanna feel you fill me up.”

“Fuuuuck,” he moaned out, loud and long as that was the last thing he needed to get him there. His hips stuttered a few more times before you felt him twitch and fill you up, just like you wanted. Because gravity was working against you due to your current position, you could feel some of it dripping out of you despite Jungkook still being inside of you. The feeling made you scrunch up your nose, and the action made Jungkook laugh and mumble out ‘cute’ as he placed a kiss on the tip of your nose.

He pulled out of you carefully before moving you away from the wall so he could set you down on your feet. Your legs were a little wobbly, so he let you brace yourself against him as he helped you clean up.

The water was nearing a very uncomfortable cold temperature, but the both of you would rather endure that than leave the shower without cleaning off completely. After the workout you both had, there was nothing more you wanted than to curl up with each other in the bed.

After helping each other get clean again, and stealing quite a few kisses while doing so, Jungkook helped you out of the shower since you still didn’t trust your legs and dried you off before taking care of himself. Your heart swelled at the sight of him as it always did when he would take care of you like this.

You just hoped that you were taking care of him in all the ways he needed as well. You were certainly trying your best and would continue to do so for the rest of your life.

Once you were both snuggled into bed, him with an arm under you and you with your face nuzzling against his chest, you broke the silence first.

“If that’s what happens when I let you put paint on me, we should do that more often.”

Jungkook, who was tracing invisible patterns on your back in between your shoulder blades, laughed so hard you shook along with him. When he finally calmed down, he was able to answer you. “I totally agree. Although, I don’t think that happened because I painted you. It happened because you-” he booped you on the nose “-teased me, knowing full well what happens when you do.”

You shrugged as best you could with his arms around you. “You love it, though.”

Jungkook chuckled. “Indeed I do.” He placed a kiss on the top of your head and resumed his earlier soothing tracing of patterns on your skin. You rested your cheek against his chest and could hear his heartbeat, slow and steady. The combined actions of his hands and the steady thrum of his heartbeat was enough to have slumber calling your name in a matter of minutes.

Jungkook had something more to say, however.

“Hey,” he called gently, making you look up at him with groggy eyes. He smiled at the sight. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For helping me. For being my muse. I’ve got more ideas now about what else to create, and I don’t think I could’ve gotten there without your help.”

You smiled at him before you placed your head down again and shut your eyes once more, breathing deeply. “You would’ve eventually. That’s just how you are. Maybe I sped up the process, but you would’ve done fine.”

“Perhaps,” he sighed and looked at the ceiling. His glance travelled down to look at your nearly sleeping form, laying on him calm and unbothered. Moments like these topped his list of favorite things, and he wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world.

“Goodnight, angel,” he murmured softly, not sure if you were asleep or not yet. You muttered something unintelligible back, but he knew you were telling him goodnight all the same, and it brought a smile to his face.

Jungkook wanted to tackle life with you, the good, the bad, all of it; he wanted to do it with you by his side. He wanted to make sure every day of your life from here on out was filled with happiness and love and everything you deserved in the world, just as you wanted to do the same for him. He knew you’d do anything for him, and he’d do anything for you.

Only for you.

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity

Three months, two days and seven hours.

That is how long you’ve been in Dimitrescu castle for. If rumor is to be believed, you are well on your way to setting the year’s record for longest living maid. Well. ‘Maid’, according to their perception. Your mind always automatically corrects it to something more fitting:

Prisoner.  

You did not choose to work for them. You did not choose to be in this godforsaken place, cleaning crimson stains off the floors, trying to convince yourself the wailing that sometimes reaches your ears is simply the wind. You never would have imagined your life’s end like this, serving wine –no, who are you kidding, it’s too crimson for that— to the Dimitrescus at dinner until one of them snaps and drives the nearest blade into your throat.

Probably Daniela.

It’s not unheard of. And stories of other maids’ murders are plenty.

Daniela has bitten one’s throat off for the crime of addressing her wrongly. Cassandra has left increasingly deep gashes, some of which resulted in deaths, for random offenses, like staring at her for too long. Bela, arguably the more merciful of the three, has snapped necks only when the staff disrespected her sisters’ names, or her mother’s.

You aren’t sure if you want to thank the older maids for this information or yell at them for the nightmares it has caused you. You are lucky to not be in the village, they say –everyone there must already be dead. You are even luckier to have been taken from the dungeon by the Lady herself. It means the daughters don’t know you and the castle is big enough that they may never spare you a glance.

You hadn’t believed it, at first.

Yet in the three months of your stay, you have never come across anyone other than Bela in the sections you were assigned to clean and polish. She passed you by the hallway like she did the decorations and the furniture –and you couldn’t be happier about it. You have caught scarce glimpses of Alcina Dimitrescu, too. Never the other two residents.

Not until the fateful day another maid disappears and the staff’s assigned posts change. You have no say in it and no power to object.

May as well keep my head down and continue to work as carefully as I have. That is the idea. Not to look too much, or think too much, or feel too much. Avoid mistakes because those in the castle are fatal.  

It is a little difficult to remain utterly calm when the sound of swarming insects comes from far behind you, though.

Your blood starts to kick in your veins. Your heart wants to jump out of your chest and make a run for it. You lock your muscles down and summon all the willpower you possess to stay focused on your task.

Please be Bela, please, please, be Bela—

The buzzing dies down. Steps approach you in the otherwise silent hallway. They are too light to be Bela’s. You’re probably screwed, you think, but you keep cleaning the surface in front of you until it’s practically a mirror with how it shines.

The steps halt too close to you for comfort. Out of the corner of your eye, you realize they’ve left bloody imprints on the floor you’ve been polishing for hours now. Dainty, pale fingers are wrapped loosely, almost lazily, around a sickle dripping crimson.    

“Never seen you around, before.” the sound of her voice makes you freeze.

You stop and turn— to face none other than Cassandra Dimitrescu. Her hood is down, brunette waves on point, the dried blood at her chin a terrible contrast to her otherwise attractive face. You… didn’t know she was that pretty, up close.

“I… I have been here for three months. On the opposite wing.” you say. Was I even supposed to reply? You’ll find out soon enough, if your tongue is still attached to your body.

Her eyes give you a quick once-over. “Bela’s been keeping you a secret, huh.” she tsks. Her free hand goes to the handle of the door next to you… and only then do you realize it must be her bedroom. You’re literally assigned to clean the wolf’s den. “Come wake me up when the sun has set, completely.” she emphasizes.

What.

“Uh—”

The crimson-dyed sickle moves until its blade rests underneath your chin, lifting it so your eyes meet hers. From this angle, under the pale lighting of dawn, they look more –stunning— blue than inhuman gold. “No loud sounds. No lights. Got it?”

How can you not, when your life depends on it?

“Yes, my lady.” you reply. You don’t even dare draw breath.

“Good.” In one swift movement, the sickle is gone, the handle turned and she’s already shedding her robe.

You catch a glimpse of a black corset and a narrow waist before you avert your eyes.

The door shuts.

...

Waking Cassandra up can be… tricky, the other maids tell you.

She detests light when she opens her eyes but she also doesn’t want it to be pitch black. You’re not supposed to talk but you can’t shake her, either. Which brings you to the very logical question:

“What the hell am I supposed to do, then?”

To which they have no answer.

They have no answer, you realize with a start… because there’s nobody alive to tell the tale of how to actually wake the brunette sleeping beauty up without simultaneously signing their own death sentence.

The hours pass both too slow and too fast. The sun sets over the horizon.

And you stand, riddled with nerves, outside Cassandra’s room.

A deep inhale later, you turn the handle. The door is left half-open so a bit of light comes in from the hallway. Her bedroom smells like shampoo, bath salts and spices. She must have taken a shower before she went to sleep. You approach the figure tucked under the silken sheets of the queen-sized bed…

Cassandra is lying on her side, one hand underneath her pillow, the other extended loosely towards the edge of the mattress. She probably sleeps naked, at least from the waist up, but thankfully the covers are wrapped around her chest. Their royal red color makes a stark contrast against the paleness of her skin.

Her face is so… serene.

She is a monster and a sadistic killer, yet right there you can’t deny she looks more like a renaissance painting.

Now onto the hard part.

“My lady… the sun has set.” you whisper, kneeled on the floor beside her. No movement comes. “Hey… I’m here to wake you up?” you try again. Still nothing. Shakily, you bring your hand up to the bed. Not daring to touch her, you leave it beside hers, over the covers. “Cassandra?”

She turns her face deeper into her pillow –no, no, you don’t think it’s cute, what’s wrong with you— but at least she’s finally reacting. You call her name one more time.

Her nose scrunches up a little. Long fingers flex –and they touch yours. She’s cold. A pair of blueish ambers blink open to regard you. Not with malice, or with annoyance.

“Good evening.” you speak, unsure of what else to say.

A smirk slowly curves her lips. She looks like a lazy cat pondering whether or not it’s worth it to pounce and that’s not good. It’s not good, not ‘hot’ like your mind suggests. God, you’ve been in this castle so long you are starting to get messed up.

“Mm, breakfast in bed.” she grins and licks her lower lip sexily. Your eyes fly wide open, but her hand is already gripping the front of your black shirt, trapping you there.

How could you ever find this psycho attractive?! you get mad at yourself. Is she hot now that she’s going to kill you?  

But Cassandra only lets out an airy laugh and releases you. You fall backwards on your behind. “Breathe, darling, I’m joking.” She rolls onto her back and seems to wince from it. Her smile vanishes.

“…does… your back hurt?” you ask when you finally find your voice again.

“Ugh, a Lycan landed a hit on me. He’s pieces now, of course, but my muscles still pull.” she says it casually, like it’s a thing that happens.

Silence falls over the room. You take it as your cue to leave. You stand and bow while she’s looking blankly at the ceiling—

But she stops you.

“Wait. Come here.” you don’t like it when she gets that tone, like she came up with something she cannot wait to try. You’re already close to the bed, you’re not sure what she means. Until she pats the spot right next to her. “Don’t make me say it again.”

You won’t. You know what’s good for you.

Hesitantly, you take a seat on the –admittedly very comfortable— mattress. “Yes, lady?”

“Give me a massage.” she says like it’s your job, like she’s the rich woman in a spa and it’s what’s expected. She turns onto her front, bearing her naked back to you and you have less than five seconds to come to terms with the thought of straddling her.

Carefully, you bring your knees on either side of her thighs and pull the sheets so they rest low at her waist. You feel warmer than you should given the temperature of the castle. If she knows the fine teasing line she’s walking, she is loving every inch of it.

Cassandra loves being the center of attention and she loves being pampered, you realize.

It’s probably amusing to her to make you fluster, but this is also an opportunity for you to get on her good graces. She is a dangerous one and it’ll be a great asset for your survival if she’s leaning favorably towards you. Win-win situation. You just have to be good at your job. Like always.

By some miracle of God, you do know how to work the tension out of muscles.

The first time you touch her, you simply rest your hands on her back to warm it. She doesn’t seem to object, from the way lean muscle stretches out under your fingers. Cassandra feels cool, but not hard like marble. Her skin yields under your touch, soft and smooth.

As you apply more pressure to your stokes, she starts to let out little sighs that you have to mute in your mind before they start to affect you. You’ve been high-strung and without sex for too long. Your body all too eagerly intercepts this death-trap as foreplay.

Minutes roll by.

You alternate between all the methods you know. The one that really seems to get her is when you drive your thumb into the knots and end with a little circle.

Cassandra is –God help you— openly moaning every time you press more. It is a bit too much pressure you’re applying though and you don’t know if you’re hurting her and she’s just into it.

“Is this too much…?” you ask. Fuck, why do you sound so breathless?

“No, it’s good.” she husks back.

“Harder?” You don’t know what innocent means, anymore.

Cassandra sends that little smirk again over her shoulder. “Harder.” she replies and the extra flair she puts into it is enough to nearly fry your brain. And other parts of you.

You’re pretty sure you need a cold shower by the time you leave her room.

...

At diner, you hang back in the shadows, gaze downcast.

You do not need to know what the Dimitrescu family is eating, nor what they’re drinking. You do not need to see Cassandra or risk catching Daniela’s gaze. You love your anonymity in the castle. It has kept you alive.

But it is shattered like frail glass when you bring another bottle of Sanguis Virginis to the table. You’ve almost retreated back to your place, when Daniela’s eyes zero in on you.

“She’s the human!” she exclaims like she’s made the world’s most startling discovery. Bela seems to understand, but the Lady and Cassandra frown over their glasses.

“I am almost afraid to ask, love.” Lady Alcina says…

And she’s right.

“The one who made Cassandra go ‘harder’ and ‘yes, yes!’ earlier this evening.” she impersonates in her sluttiest voice and then breaks into a fit of cackles. Bela’s lip twists into a withheld chuckle.

Lady Dimitrescu nearly chokes on her wine.

Cassandra slaps the back of Daniela’s head. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Girls.” Alcina warns and glares until the table calms again.

Then, her eyes curiously fall upon you.

So much for your anonymity.

Ko-Fi