#caribbean tips first time

[cheollipop]

✾ — 𝙜𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙧

navi | taglist

pairing: husband!park seonghwa x fem!reader

w.c.: 4.0k

genre: smut, fluff, newlyweds on their honeymoon au

song recs: golden hour by jvke, my love mine all mine by mitski, vanilla by kai

with the caribbean breeze ruffling through silky locks, leaving its salty remnants on sunkissed skin, fingers tangled in a lifetime's embrace as you adjusted to the added weight of the metal bands reflecting the gleaming moonlight. tonight, and for decades to come, seonghwa thanked every deity he knew the name of for making you his.

warnings: food/eating is prevalent in the first few paragraphs, lovemaking, soft/service dom!seonghwa, possessive!hwa fingering (f), unprotected sex (👎), creampie, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, nicknames (hwa; pretty girl, darling, love, baby, 'wife'), a lot of kisses, like fr a lot, they're both very desperate and needy and impatient and in love, it's so sappy I'm disgusted with myself.

A/N: bai @hwaightme, thank you for ideating with me all those months ago. I'm happy I finally found the time to write it out, and I really hope I was able to do hwasband (heh) justice. happy reading <3

nsfw under the cut—minors dni 🔞

A day of mingling with locals, hopping between souvenir shops and family-owned restaurants, the taste of salt in the air with the ocean breeze ruffling through your hair, hand in hand as you moved under the midday sun. Vivid splashes of colour decorated the markets, clothes and fruit—a ripe mango sitting, half-eaten, on Seonghwa’s palm—laid out on wooden booths while merchants called out to the tourists passing through the narrow pathway. The once overwhelming scent of red roses emanating from the small bouquet in your hand now dissipated under the mouth-watering spices wafting from the street food stalls Seonghwa walked you past, stopping at each one to shovel a variety of fried pastries and desserts into your mouth. 

“You should try this too,” he spoke as he excitedly fed you another bite, pressing the pastry past your lips with two fingers to make space between the rest of the food you struggled to chew. 

“Hwa, wait—mmph!” 

The man standing behind the bar chuckled to himself, golden skin hugged by the Caribbean sun and the corners of his eyes wrinkled with a lifetime of smiles. “You should listen to your husband, Ma'am.” 

You turned towards each other, eyes meeting amidst the bustling crowd surrounding you. Husband. It had a good ring to it. Taking in the pink dusting Seonghwa’s cheeks, the timid curl of his lips while he eyed you with hearts in his eyes, you wondered whether the heat warming your cheeks, the butterflies fluttering in your lower belly, and the overwhelming adoration you felt towards the man before you, were just as obvious. As though nothing and no one else existed, even within the populous market, Seonghwa stared at you with unrivalled infatuation, his hand raising to brush a smear of sauce off the side of your mouth, bringing it to his own for a taste. The fresh wave of heat flushing your face at his antics fuelled his ego, lips stretching further at your bashfulness. You were just too cute. 

Turning his attention back towards the merchant, his next order dying at the tip of his tongue as your free hand locked with his, dragging him out of the market with a quick “thank you” as you continued to chew on what was left of all the bites he’d clogged your throat with. 

You made Seonghwa carry your shoes while you wiped the food off your mouth, glaring at him as he giggled to himself, bare feet leaving imprints over soft, white sand. He guided you closer to the shore, until gentle waves tickled your soles, and rather than remnants of fine dust over tanned skin, you now carried bits of the beach with you every step you took. 

Seonghwa’s fingers found yours, his other hand struggling to hold two pairs of shoes while he pulled you closer to his side, his eyes fixing on yours before moving to scan the rest of your face, as though the shadows sculpting your features were far more entrancing than the scene unfolding to his left. Your face warmed under his unrelenting gaze, and despite your best efforts at redirecting his stare towards the changing sky—the plastic wrapped around red roses colliding with his jaw as you pushed it to the side, only for it to sway back in your direction—his attention remained on you. So you dragged him away from the water, damp feet collecting a sheet of sand as you walked further up on the beach, seating yourself and waiting for the smiley man to join you, pearly teeth reflecting the golden rays.  

The orb of light moved closer to the horizon, a gradient of oranges and pinks encompassing the breadth of the sky, twinkling stars peeking out as it darkened, still hidden behind tufts of cotton candy clouds moving with the gentle breeze. The salt tickled your nostrils, and the chill ruffled through your top, Seonghwa’s arm naturally wrapping around your figure to bring you closer, his warmth spreading through you despite the thin, white button-up covering his torso, swaying with the wind to reveal bits of his tanned chest through the unbuttoned lapel. Your hand rested over his thigh, and without a second thought, his own moved to cover it, looking down to examine the orange hue cast over metal, your wedding rings clanging against one another while the setting sun graced the interlocked fingers with the last of its warmth. Lifting your head back up, you took in the universe’s breathtaking show of love as the sun kissed the horizon goodbye, bidding its farewells as they parted for the night, beginning its decent into the pool of tears it’d left behind, its reflection making it appear whole.  

“Pretty,” you breathed out, watching as pinks shifted to purples, and the stars shone through disappearing clouds.  

Seonghwa hummed, the deep baritone dragging your attention off the collision and to the sincere eyes mooning over your profile. Heat flooded your cheeks once again, and with the cooling breeze, shifting the blame onto the summer’s torridity was no longer possible. Instead, you allowed the tranquillity gracing Seonghwa’s sharp features to drag you away from the bewitching sunset. Dark locks fanned over his forehead, stray strands following the salty gusts before falling back into place, eyelashes casting faint shadows over defined cheekbones, and plump lips forming into an easy smile as he took you in. 

He dragged your locked hands up his thigh, leaning closer to slot his lips against yours, leaving the universe to bear witness to his own show of love, with the golden, dying rays to serve as his backdrop. How many love songs had you heard say, ‘he takes my breath away’? Seonghwa did. In everything he did, even simply under his gentle gaze, you’d often find yourself breathless.  

Drawing back, hot air blew against your mouth, wide, glimmering eyes mooning over your dazed features, and after what felt like an eternity later, Seonghwa’s lips touched yours once again. Sparks flew in every direction, the world slowly disappearing around you, and you wondered how a kiss so innocent could be so intimate and electrifying, how it could light a million fires within you. Like dancers sashaying to a melody, your lips moved together as waves crashed against the sandy shore, and in that moment, it felt as though you were floating in space and everything around you had turned to dust. 

You leaned your body forward, attempting to deepen the kiss that had captured your entire being in a whirlwind of fervour and yearning, but just as you did, Seonghwa moved back. Features softened under the dying rays, he peered at you through his eyelashes for a few moments, taking in the subtle pout on your lips at the sudden parting before averting his gaze towards the locked fingers resting on his thigh. Tilting your head, your eyes wandered over the curved slope of his nose, over the feathered eyelashes and lips you’d just gotten a taste of, sensing the gentle ministrations of his hand as it fiddled with your ring. A ring you were still accustoming to the weight of, the gemstone offering a pleasant reminder of a man you now returned home to every night. A man with a million stars in his eyes, and yet preferred to gaze upon you, to moon over your very existence as though you’d crafted the universe around him with nothing but calloused hands. With scenery as breathtaking as the one before you—a celebration of vibrant fuchsia and coral—Seonghwa’s gaze never left your profile, admiring the sunset through its reflection over your skin, the shadows it carved, the pretty eyes in which it glimmered within. And just as the sun kissed the horizon while it set, and once again as it rose, Seonghwa's lips moved in a whispered prayer: to greet the rest of his days with the caress of your warm breath against his skin, carrying the thought of you as he navigated his hours, and to find you in the gentle embrace of slumber, a steadfast companion by his side. 

Your voice dragged him out of his daydreams, “what are you thinking about?” 

Gentle eyes flitted upwards to meet yours, his response nearly instant, “only you.” The sincerity in his tone, the tenderness in his eyes, the gentle sweep of his thumb over your knuckles, delicate over the twinkling stone decorating your ring finger, Seonghwa continued to ignore the world around him and solely focused on you—the gentle squeeze around his fingers every few seconds, the alluring smile gracing your lips, the slow pace in which you blinked, as though drunk on his voice, his scent, his presence. It was though he was intoxicated by you, an addict who can’t help but want more, even when you’d offered him all you could spare. Leaning towards you once again, he pressed a feathery kiss to your cheekbone, sensing the benign flutter of your eyelashes against his skin before drawing back to meet your eyes once again, hot breath mingling in the small gap between your faces as he muttered the words under his breath, “let’s go back.” 

-- 

One unsteady step at a time, Seonghwa walked you backwards into the hotel room, palm splayed out on your lower back to keep you balanced. White sand dusted off the clothes he pulled off your frame, wandering hands taking in the lingering warmth of a sun long gone. Your fingers feathered over the prominent tan lines painting his chest, faint freckles littered over the reddened skin. Flitting your eyes back to his face, you found Seonghwa’s gaze fixed on your lips. So you gave him what he yearned for, pressing them against the plush of his and inhaling the breath he’d been holding, too immersed in astral daydreams about a lifetime of you to listen to his burning lungs.  

He moved slowly, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth before letting it go in favour of pressing your tongues together, contrasting the frantic shuffling of his hands over every inch of skin revealed to him. You held him close, chests flush as you allowed him to take whatever he needed, only pulling away to slide off the bra he’d nimbly unclasped. Gentle fingers glided over your figure, squeezing and tugging at the flesh as though he’d never have the luxury of touching you after tonight, his kisses hungry as he robbed your lungs of the last of their oxygen. 

Soft sheets collided with your back, and you had only a few seconds to revel in the coolness against your heated skin before Seonghwa was back on you, tucking his face into the crook of your neck to press hurried kisses down its length. His lips moved over the slope of your breast, tongue peeking out to circle your perked-up nipple before descending the tender skin to feather kisses along your ribs. You recognized the pattern, his movements familiar as he trailed down the body he’d stripped nearly bare, fingertips ghosting over the lacey waistband hugging your hips. Soon, he’d prop your legs over broad shoulders, salivating as he buried his nose into your clit while he lapped at your dripping arousal like a starved man.  

A sense of urgency flooded your gut as he dug his nose under your bellybutton, your hand flying to his freckled shoulder with a mutter of his name rolling off your tongue. He looked up at you, pupils blown out and a sheen of spit coating his parted lips as he prepared himself for your sweet taste, his appetite growing the closer he got to your core.  

Wrapping your fingers around his bicep, you tugged him upwards, but he resisted, confusion furrowing his eyebrows, “baby?” 

“I can’t wait, Hwa, ‘want you now,” you breathed out, feeling his muscles relax under your touch and his hesitant ascend back to face-level.  

You could hear the unspoken complaint forming at the back of his throat, so you moved your hand to his nape and brought him down to slot your lips together. Desperation poured out of you, teeth clashing as you pulled him impossibly closer, drunk on the softness of his lips. You guided his hand to your clothed heat, pushing it past the waistband so soft fingers could slide through the wetness staining the white lace they’d gifted you. A muttered curse vibrated against your lips, Seonghwa’s nose nuzzling against yours for a moment before capturing your mouth in an avid embrace once again, his free hand leading yours down the lean muscle to where he needed you the most, to where his burning want strained against his briefs.  

An airy moan muffled against his frantic lips, the slight part in yours welcoming his tongue in to run over your front teeth, “fuck, ‘want you, please-” 

“Shh,” he pecked the corner of your mouth, “just for a little bit, my love.” You whimpered in protest, but he only smiled at your frustration, pressing more kisses over your eyelids, forcing them shut with the gesture. “I gotta make sure you’re ready for me, darling. I’ll make you feel so good, I promise.” 

You knew he would. From the building pace of his fingers on your clit, drawing perfect circles and sending jolting waves of long-awaited pleasure up your spine, to the trail of kisses he planted down the side of your neck, you knew he would. Forming a ‘v’ around the bud, he slid the digits down to your folds, his middle finger circling your needy hole before slipping inside. He didn’t bother with finding your g-spot before sliding in another, his unconcealed impatience evident in the quick, shallow thrusts.  

Your gaze flitting down to his middle, you pushed past the elastic band to feel his cock twitch in your palm, squeezing around his base to take in the shifts in his expression—eyebrows drawn in, lashes fluttering as he melted under your tender touch before he rested his forehead onto your chest. He used his free hand to make a quick work of sliding off his briefs—rather ungracefully, but you held back your comments—tossing them off the bed before guiding your hand back to his waiting cock. Following the throbbing vein lining his length, you were met with the obscene amount of translucent precum spurting from his cockhead, rolling your wrist and sliding the slick down the hard shaft, then back up to feel him shudder atop of you. 

“Fuck, just like that-” 

His fingers slipped out of you with a groan, and you whined at the loss, your dripping cunt clenching uselessly. But Seonghwa was smearing your own slick over the back of your thigh while pushing it to the side, spreading you apart to slot himself between your legs. You pulled your hand away before he could trap it between your burning cores, his cock sliding deliciously between your soaked folds and nudging your clit with every slippery glide.  

You reached down, placing a palm over his cockhead to trap him against you, “Hwa, hurry,” a faint whisper, you pressed down once he sunk his hips lower, and sighed in relief once the tip breached your fluttering hole.  

The slow drag as he buried himself within your heat left you in a shared trance, eyes locked and lips parted, stunted exhales mingling in the negligible gap separating your faces. Slender fingers tangled with yours, moonlit wedding bands pressing imprints into your skin as he grinded languidly into you, eyelashes fluttering but gaze never faltering off your face, revelling in the luring shifts in your features as you gracefully drowned in the pleasure he so generously gave you. Even in the dim, bluish tone the cosy hotel room swam in, you could see the abstract hearts painting his glimmering irises, Seonghwa's warm body lowering onto yours until a comfortable amount of his weight rested atop you. Despite the tenderness of his touch, the delicate kisses he peppered your face with—barely-there pecks over your eyelids, on your cheeks and down to the corners of your mouth—Seonghwa’s hips had built a steady pace, barely pulling out as he rolled them insistently, the squelch of your cunt harmonizing with the pitched pants echoing between the four walls.  

“My wife,” he muttered suddenly, dragging you away from the hazy pleasure clouding your mind and to wide, glassy eyes peering at you as though you’d parted the sea with a mere whisper. His palm cradled your jaw, curved nose nuzzling into your cheek while his other hand found your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh as the realization dawned on him for the nth time since he’d slid the polished band onto your trembling finger. “Fuck, you’re my wife.” 

A soft giggle shook your shoulders, your hand sliding over Seonghwa’s at your jaw while the other drew lines onto his lower back. “Mm, my husband.” 

Seonghwa was a man blinded by sudden cognizance—first life or not, the universe had been astonishingly kind to him, granting him a lifetime of nights such as this, emanated by the raw desire to love. To give love, and to receive it, from a woman crafted by the heavens themselves, a woman who presented him with love’s true form. Who painted the world around him brighter, more vivid, until a life without her seemed riddled with dreary grey tones and melancholy.  

“All mine.” 

A fond smile stretched your lips, brushing your fingers through silky, dark locks while admiring his dazed features, “all yours.” 

His body heat encapsulated your form, toned arms wrapped securely around your shoulders and face tucked into your neck as measured rolls of his hips switched to frantic thrusts. Unable to move, you simply laid beneath him and took it, squeezing around him with every shock of pleasure he fucked through you, cock twitching violently between your walls as he barrelled towards his high.  

“My perfect wife,” he mumbled into your damp skin like a crazed man, “gonna give you all I have.” You scrambled to reach for his face, pulling it up to meet lidded eyes, pathetic, airy moans leaving plump lips, and he twitched inside you as you watched him fall apart. “Here—hah—here it comes, darling. Take it all, yeah?”  

Blown out pupils rolled back to reveal the whites of his eyes, lashes violently fluttering before he’d sealed his lids shut, his head tilting backwards as far as it could go as ecstasy rushed through his body in searing shockwaves, pumping his cock into you sloppily until he grew still, a day’s worth of neediness and want pouring out of him in watery ribbons of pearly white. 

You struggled to keep your eyes open, wanting to savour the sight before you: heavily lidded gaze fixed on yours, eyebrows drawn in, and spit-soaked lips hanging open as broken, breathy moans reverberated in the air separating you. You felt so full, and yet Seonghwa’s cock was still feeding weak spurts of cum into your womb, a delicate thumb rubbing soothing circles over your waist. And just when you thought he’d been milked dry, he dragged his cock halfway out of your clenching cunt and back into its inviting warmth, hissing at the sensitivity as he built up his pace until a whimper fell off your lips and you finally succumbed to the pleasure weighing down on your eyelids. 

Soft lips pecked over your eyelashes, honeyed voice ruffling them with warm exhales, “Open your eyes, my love. Let me see you.” 

And how could you refuse him such a soft-spoken request? Stars danced in your vision as you took in Seonghwa’s expression once again—hints of pain masked by overwhelming infatuation and need, as though he could power through the oversensitivity so long as he remained engulfed in your warmth.  

“Hwa.” 

“My pretty girl, my wife—” he spoke as though still in disbelief. His chest heaved, and violent shudders shook his body with the silky glide of his cock over your walls, a ring of cream forming around his base as he fucked your slick and his cum back into the used hole. “Gonna come for me?” 

Nodding frenziedly, you held on to his shoulders, sliding your hands up to his nape and into his hair, wanting to hold onto something but failing to decide on what. But then you were clamping around him, and two pairs of hands desperately clutched the other’s skin, lips meeting in the middle only to expel stunted gasps into each other’s mouths as though you were centuries-old lovers recently reunited. Seonghwa guided you through your orgasm, holding onto your trembling frame even as you tightened around his sensitive cock, two fingers slipping between your sticky bodies to rub circles over your clit.  

“Hwa, fuck—” Back arching, your nipples pressed against his, hips simultaneously seeking more of his touch and jerking away from it. 

“That’s it, baby, ‘being so good for me,” he slipped his cock out of you, a sigh of relief warming your face as his fingers continued their movement over your clit. “Look at you, so full you can’t keep it all in?” 

You followed his gaze down to your core, hips spasming as the stimulation panged at your nerves, but you found yourself transfixed on the thick stream of cum falling out of your pulsating cunt in gallops. Seonghwa’s lust-heavy eyes widened as another wave of your orgasm rushed through you, vivid colours obscuring your blurry vision before fireworks exploded behind your squeezed-shut eyelids. Your fingers grasped desperately at Seonghwa’s wrist, sensing him begrudgingly pull away to grant you some reprieve.   

You weren’t sure how long it took you to come down, to gather the last fragments of energy you had to force your eyes open, to notice the skilled hands ridding you of the knots in the aching muscles of your hips, but you felt at ease knowing Seonghwa was there to welcome you back whenever you were ready. His gaze—ever so gentle—fixed upon your tranquil features, propped up on an elbow while his body laid by your side to give you room to breathe, your chest still heaving from the force of your high. You noticed the subtle, unconscious flick of his stare down to your thighs every few seconds, taking interest in your fruitless battle against the insistent spasms jolting your lower half. 

Huffing out a laugh, you dragged his attention back to your face, and his body slid closer to yours, placing his head on the pillow beside you and watching you shift onto your side. The duvet pulled taut over sweaty bodies, shielded from the chilly ocean breeze, the arms snaked around your waist pulled you into Seonghwa’s chest, any thoughts about leaving the soiled bed dissipating within the man’s secure embrace.  

You inhaled the salty Caribbean scent off his tanned skin, remnants of the luxury perfume he’d sprayed on that morning mixing in with nature’s cologne. Before you could nuzzle closer into his neck, a gentle grip on your nape pulled you back to meet soft eyes, yours fluttering shut once plush lips pressed against your cheekbone, then your forehead, and your nose, until he found your cupid's bow. It was barely a kiss, more so a standstill as you held your lips together, pressing and nipping against the other’s sluggishly as you both fought off sleep’s insistent nagging.  

Beads of sweat slowly dried over your skin, the moonlight filtering through the cracked blinds reflecting through them before dying out. Drunk on one another, you were too occupied to notice the cool-toned shift in hues painting the white walls, missing the sun’s final farewells before it disappeared behind the horizon, and the emergence of glimmering stars to replace the striking gradient of oranges and pinks. You'd missed nature’s tragic goodbye while immersed in your own ardent union. Now, only the moon and its stars bore witness to the lethargic dance of lips hidden under the floral-scented duvet Seonghwa had pulled over your intertwined frame.

Sand still dusted slick skin, and warm breaths mingled in the stuffy space you’d cramped yourselves in, bodies flush against one another as you succumbed to the siren invite of slumber, wishing upon a lifetime emanated by such bliss, tranquillity, and ardour. 

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[merlucide]

SEA’S SECRET ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Notes: um.. I did it :3 KIRA WORLD BUILDS! NOT CLICKBAIT!

pairings: merman!chigiri x mayor’s daughter!reader

wc: 1.9k

warnings: reader is fem, thalassophobia(?), the best thing I’ve ever written

chpt: 1 2

(pls imangine pirates and the Caribbean vibes!!) inspo hehe

You often find yourself walking up and down the seashore. It’s a place of solace for you, the sound of the waves and the salty breeze never ceased to bring a wave of ease over you. The seashore was a stretch of golden sand that curved gently around the bay, bordered by rocky cliffs. Palm trees swayed gently in the breeze, their leaves singing a calming tune. Small crabs scuttled across the sand, and seabirds called out to each other as they wheeled in the sky above. You like to look around for shells and pearls. When you find one, you take them to the sailors for them to tell you what they are.

The sailors would tell you mystical tales of the sea. You loved their stories—you knew they weren’t real, but you liked to pretend they were.

They’d tell you about the legends of the sea, stories about ghost ships, the kraken, sirens, and mermaids. The tales always made you eager to explore the vast ocean. You knew that wasn’t realistic, after all, you were the mayor's daughter. Your life was prim and proper, with not an ounce of adventure. You had many marriage proposals, but you turned them all down. Your father warned you that if you didn’t decide on a suitor, he would have no choice but to arrange a marriage for you.

It angered you to no end. Your life had barely begun, and everything had been decided for you. Your father’s warning had been the final straw, pushing you to the brink of rebellion.

That’s when you ran off to the shore, your heart pounding with a mixture of anger and desperation. You had snuck out of your estate at night, very careful not to draw any attention to yourself. The town was quiet, the usual hustle and bustle of merchants and sailors replaced by the soft lapping of waves and the occasional call of a bird. Lanterns flickered in the windows of the small buildings, casting a warm, glow on the cobblestone streets.

You headed towards the docks, looking around for a small rowboat you’d seen the fishermen take. You found it sandwiched between two sailboats, their tall masts swaying gently in the night breeze. You grabbed the oars and looked around to make sure no one was watching you.

You stepped into the boat, slowly lowering yourself down until you were stable. You pulled the oars, gliding into the water. You continued until you were far away from the dock. The moon reflected off the water, giving it an enchanting feel. The water was rather still, with only gentle ripples disturbing the glassy surface.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you were alone with your thoughts, away from the suffocating expectations. The sea was your sanctuary, a place where you could be free, even if just for a night.

It wasn’t fair. You had dreams, desires that went beyond the confines of your father’s mansion and the expectations of society.

You sighed peered over the side of your little boat, looking at the stars through the water. The surface was calm, reflecting the moonlight like a mirror. As you gazed into the depths, you thought you saw a glimmer, a flash of something that wasn’t quite right.

Then, you saw them—two luminous eyes staring back at you from the deep. They were unlike anything you had ever seen, glowing with an otherworldly light that sent a shiver down your spine.

Your heart raced as your mind scrambled looking for an answer, perhaps you were seeing things? But the eyes were unmistakable, fixed on you with an intense, almost curious gaze. You opened your mouth to scream, but no sound came out at first. Then, a second later, you found your voice and let out a piercing cry, jerking back so violently that you lost your balance.

You screamed and jumped back, losing your stability and tipping over, falling into the dark deep ocean. You kicked your legs, remaining afloat as you attempted to set your boat back up. The panic surged within you, fear of what was lurking below making your heart race. You continued to try to flip your boat, but with no success. Your breathing was heavy as you desperately pleaded for the boat to flip.

You felt ripples hitting your leg and frantically looked around for whatever caused them. Suddenly, your boat flipped over with a big splash. You desperately tried to pull yourself up, which was rather hard since you were in the water. Hands grabbed onto your calves, pushing them up. You screamed, grabbing onto the boat and finally pulling yourself inside. You hunched down and clutched the sides, trying to calm your racing heart.

Once you had caught your breath, you desperately looked around for the mysterious eyes you saw. “Who’s there?!” you yelled. “Hello?!”

You held on tightly to your oar, the other one most likely sinking below. Your eyes were heavy with tears when a trickle came from the end of your boat.

You snapped your head over to the sound. The eyes you were met with previously stared back at you. You couldn’t make out much of its appearance due to the night, but its eyes were reflective, standing out in the dark.

“W-What are you?” you stammered, your gaze wide.

“…I… I am…” its voice hesitant “..a merman.”

Your eyes were as wide as they could possibly be. You couldn’t believe what you had heard. It wasn’t possible. There’s no way. But, considering the position you were in, you had no other choice but to believe him.

“…A mermaid?” you asked yourself.

“…..I’m sorry for scaring you… I didn’t think… you would be able to see me,” the merman apologized, his gaze lowering.

You repeated the word “mermaid” a few times until he swam closer to you. You clenched your oar, ready for whatever might happen.

“..I will get you to the shore, alright?” His hands perched on the side of the boat, and you could almost see him now. He had raspberry-colored hair across his face, styled into a half braid. His eyes were a magenta color with cat-like pupils. He had shimmering scales littered on his cheeks and larger fins on the sides of his head. He was… enchanting.

You nodded your head with a soft “alright.” He returned the nod and swam to the back of the boat. Hands on the ledge, he pushed the boat through the water.

You sat hunched in the small boat, drenched and trembling, your breath coming in shaky inhales. The cool night air bit at your skin, but you hardly noticed, consumed by the shock of the encounter. Your heart pounded in your chest, the rhythm erratic and wild.

You clung to the sides of your little boat, the wood rough under your fingers, trying to ground yourself in the midst of this surreal experience.

It was silent aside from the sound of water. You headed towards the town, but not toward the docks, instead toward the shore by the cliffs.

You finally arrived at the beach. The water was up to your bust. He stopped pushing the boat.

“This is as far as I can go,” the merman told you.

“I- thank you,” you said and looked at the shore.

“..I will be off now,” he told you, backing away.

“W-Wait!” you impulsively yelled out.

He stopped and turned toward you, caught off guard.

“I- ah… will I, see you again?” you asked. You had just met a merman. They were supposed to be just some sailor’s tale, and here you just met one. You needed to see him again, to know if he really was real.

The merman’s mouth opened slightly, then closed.

“Perhaps… if fate allows it,” he replied quietly.

“I- Tomorrow, here at sunset?” you hesitantly asked.

He pressed his lips together before nodding. He ducked back below the sea. You watched the ripples spread across the water.

You hopped out of the boat into the water, walking to the shore. You dragged the boat onto the sand and collapsed to your knees.

You couldn’t believe what had just happened.

As you laid there, the events of the night replayed in your mind. You had come out here to escape the confines of your life, to find a moment of freedom away from your father’s demands.

And then, you had encountered a being of legend— a mermaid. The very idea seemed impossible, and yet it had happened. His eyes, so alien yet mesmerizing, haunted your thoughts.

Who was he? You didn’t even know his name. The realization struck you with a sudden urgency. The merman had saved you, had spoken to you, and yet you knew so little about him. What was his world like beneath the waves? The sailors’ tales had always painted mermaids and mermen as dangerous and unpredictable, yet he had been gentle, almost hesitant.

You lifted your head, staring out at the dark expanse of the ocean. The water was the same as you boarded your boat, as if the encounter had never happened. But you knew it had. You had seen and felt things that couldn’t be explained, things that made your heart race with excitement rather than fear.

Slowly, you rose to your feet, your legs shaky. You looked back at the boat, then turned towards the town. Each step was heavy, your wet nightdress clinging to your skin and the weight of the night’s events pressing down on you. As you walked, the familiar streets seemed strange, as if you were seeing them through new eyes.

The town was quiet, the occasional flicker of lantern light casting long shadows on the cobblestones. You passed the houses of neighbors and friends, their windows dark and their occupants asleep. Everything seemed so ordinary, so mundane.

Would he really be there tomorrow at sunset? The thought filled you with a mix of hope and uncertainty. You wanted to see him again, to prove to yourself that it hadn’t all been a dream. You wanted to know more about him—his name, his world, and the mysteries that lay beneath the waves.

By the time you reached the gate of your estate, your thoughts were a tangled mess. You slipped inside quietly, careful not to wake anyone. The grand house loomed before you, a reminder of the life you were expected to lead. But now, with the promise of the sea and the mysterious merman.

You climbed the stairs to your room, tomorrow, at sunset, you would return to the shore. You had to know if the merman was real, if the world held more than the life laid out before you. As you crawled into bed, your wet dress clinging uncomfortably to your skin, you clung to that thought. The ocean had given you a glimpse of something extraordinary, and you were determined to see where it would lead.

You needed to understand the world that had been hidden from you for so long. The longing for adventure, for knowledge.

Sunset couldn’t come soon enough.

next part

taglist: @gigiiiiislife @sharkissm @luvingshidou @kurona-theshark @soleilonthesun @duckydee-0 @rinitoshisgirl @someprettyname

HOLY SHIT. YALL?! I DID IT!!! OMG PLS THIS TOOK ME SOSOSO LONG TO FINISH?!? I HATE WORLD BUILIDING. BUT I DID IT!!? OMG AND I USED FANCY WORDS YALL SHAKESPEARE WHO??? I’m so happy w/ how this came out omg pls lemme know what you think!!

also uh should I make a pt2 ..?

made June 20th 2024

[medlarmeadows]

Hiya! I was wondering if you could do a cc!charlie/gn!reader where they have a friendly sleepover BUT as the night goes on it get more and more romantic :3c and may there be cuddling and kisses please and ty.

P.s have a nice day/night ^-^

i'm so sorry i took basically a whole month to get this done! i hope my writing has done your request justice :) hope you're having a nice day/night!

(also i wrote this with charlie's Another Crab's Treasure vod playing in the background. it was a huge distraction, i don't know why i did that)

-

can i kiss you sleepover?

cc!Charlie Slimecicle x gn!reader

Warning(s): light cursing, one piss joke, they kiss.

Word Count: 1.25k

masterlist | request guidelines

Sleepovers at either Charlie’s or your apartment were pretty common. With the two of you living on opposite sides of the city, all it took was a movie night ending too late or a drink too many in someone’s system to get one of you to announce that a sleepover was in order.

(It was to prevent either of you from having to travel home in the middle of the night, and absolutely not because you both wanted an excuse to spend more time together.)

The night started as most nights did, with you popping over to Charlie’s place for dinner. What surprised you, though, was that instead of your usual takeout, he had decided to chef it up in the kitchen.

“Whoa,” you said when you arrived, inviting yourself in and dropping off the snacks you had bought on the kitchen counter. “So, this is why you didn’t want to grab snacks with me today.”

“I had a lot of ingredients I had to use up,” he replies nonchalantly, giving you a one shoulder shrug. “Thought a change in our routine couldn’t hurt.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, leaning against the dining table while he sets the food down. You try to ignore how pinpricks shoot up your arm when he brushes against your arm.

“Is this how our friendship has devolved? You’re throwing your leftovers at me?”

Charlie nearly trips on the way back to the table with two wine glasses in hand. You double over laughing, and thus fail to catch the way the tips of his ears turn red.

“I’m joking, I’m joking.”

You spend dinner catching up with each other’s weeks, with a few jokes thrown in courtesy of Charlie attempting to serve wine as professionally as he can. It contributes to the slightly romantic atmosphere of the dinner, but you choose not to acknowledge it.

After dinner, you force Charlie out of the kitchen so that you could clean up (it was the least you could do to repay his romantic well-prepared dinner). It’s a few minutes later that you join him in the living room for the official start to your movie night.

Usually, you sit side by side on the couch, not too close and not too far from each other. But the couch feels a little small today as you’re forced to share one blanket (“Sorry, the other one’s in the washer.” “What, did you piss on it? Little piss boy?” “Fuck off.”).

Charlie fidgets throughout the first movie, but you don’t mind it. When the second film starts playing, he moves one arm to rest on the couch behind your head. The hand that rests next to your next starts fidgeting with your hair, making the flesh of your neck goosebump when his fingers get close.

You distract yourself from his antics by stuffing your face with crisps. You were close friends who were comfortable being physically close to each other. You hugged all the time. You spent a lot of time together.

You try to convince yourself that it wasn’t that deep.

Several hours later, it was to no one’s surprise that, when you finished watching the fourth Pirates of the Caribbean film, Charlie announced that it was too late for you to Uber back home.

“Dude, I can’t believe it’s already 3 am,” he comments as he gets up to throw the empty crisp packets.

“Is it?” you ask between yawns, stretching out over the cushions he had previously occupied. Your eyes are halfway closing when he comes back to unceremoniously yank the blanket off you.

“What the hell!” you yell at him, throwing a pillow at him in hopes to wipe off the cheeky grin from his face.

The pillow didn’t deter him from coming closer, prompting you to pick up another pillow to smack him with. However, he catches you off-guard by snatching the pillow from you. You reflexively tighten your grip on the pillow, causing you to stumble right into Charlie.

Stunned, you look up at him, his wide-eyed gaze meeting yours.

“Hi,” you mumble awkwardly.

“Hi,” he replies, a mischievous grin lighting his face up.

Charlie lightly shoves you away from himself, bending to grab the first pillow you had thrown at him. With a declaration of war, he chases you around the coffee table, the movie credits still rolling on the TV screen providing some dramatic background music.

You feel your inner child light up inside you as you evade Charlie’s grasp, letting out cheerful yelps despite it being the middle of the night and you might get noise complaints. However, caught up in the gleefulness of your mini tag game, you trip on the edge of the coffee table and send yourself hurtling into the couch.

“Holy shi- ”

Behind you, Charlie’s unable to stop his momentum. In a split second, he’s sent tumbling on top of you, the pillow that he was holding somewhat cushioning his fall so he didn’t full body slam into you.

There you lie on Charlie’s couch, caged by his arms which had mercifully landed next to your face and not on it. His messy hair looked even messier after running several rounds around his living room, and you resist the urge to run your fingers through them.

You’re captured next by his blue eyes, still shining with something familiar, but with an added emotion that you’re sure is mirrored in yours. You’re so close to each other you’re practically breathing in each other’s breath, and you can’t help your eyes from straying to glance down at his lips.

When you glance back up to his eyes, you catch him shifting his gaze as well, causing your breath to hitch. You catch the moment he clocks that you’d done the same thing he did as he moves just an inch closer to you.

“Is this okay?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” your response is just as breathy.

Charlie studies your expression carefully, almost as though drinking in your features he had never seen so up close before. Then:

“Can I kiss you?”

You blink once. Then twice. Then:

“Yes, please.”

Charlie crosses the space between you two within the blink of an eye. His lips capture yours, and you finally understand how people could describe a kiss as sweet. Because now that you’ve tasted Charlie’s lips on yours, you’re not sure even honey could compare.

You’re not sure how long you stay locked in each other’s embrace. One of your hands come up to gently thread through Charlie’s hair, eliciting a sigh from the man. When you come up for breath, the movie credits are no longer rolling.

“Wow,” you say, breathless.

“Definitely wow,” he repeats, breathing just as heavily as you are.

“Why haven’t we done that before?” you ask in between a yawn.

“I don’t know.” He takes a second to smile fondly at your yawn. “Sleepy?”

You nod, further relaxing into his hold. “Between the movies and the running around, I’m pretty tired out.”

Charlie hums his acknowledgement before getting off you to stand. Suddenly, he scoops you up in his arms, causing you yelp and loop your arms around his neck.

“Charlie!”

“It’s snuggle time!” he crows, carrying you to his bedroom.

The night ends with you and Charlie snug under his blankets. The weight of his arm around your waist and the feeling of his heartbeat against your back slowly lulled you into what could’ve been the most comfortable sleep you’ve ever had.

[artificial-transmutations]

Moving into the haunted House

The ghost was idly floating in the dusty air of the attic. Well, that was not technically correct. He had fashioned himself a hammock out of his own ghostly glowing ectoplasm in which he was swinging slowly from left to right. The ghost, whose real name had been forgotten by even himself, was reading the latest edition of "Ghost Magazine", the leading periodical of the spirit world.

"Another successful year for our dear readers." the cover read. The ghost flipped through the pages, past the many ads for various ghost products, such as "Ghost Toasters" and "Ghost Bars" (whatever they might be) and went straight to the centerfold. Here was his favorite part: the annual "Ghostly Studs" page. He whistled as he looked at the various ghosts pictured. All were naked, and all were flexing their muscles in various poses, showing off their ectoplasm. Some were glowing with a green light, others blue or orange.

The ghost in the hammock could hardly be called a "ghostly stud". To be quite honest, he was pretty much the opposite. He wasn't very tall but broad in the worst sense of the word: His body was formed like a sack and ended in a comical tip not much below his hefty belly. On top of the blubber sat a fat, bald head, which was sporting an ever present smile, and on the neck, a round, pudgy face, with a button nose. This appearance was what earned him his nickname, Chunker, which was pretty much how the rest of the ghost world called him.

Chunker was a good-natured ghost, who liked to be lazy, eat, read and do not too much else. Of course, that was when he was alone or in the ghostly company of his housemates. In the rare occasions that he was confronted with mortals...

Chunker couldn't finish the thought because a noise from downstairs disrupted the silence: The door of the old house opened with a creaking sound and the muffled voices of some people entering could be heard. What was that? No living soul had entered the haunted house for at least 3 years now!

Chunker got up with some effort and reintegrated the hammock and the magazine into his body. He had to check that out at once! He floated downstairs, following the sound of the voices, and found himself in a dark and dusty hallway. At the end of it, the door to the dining room was ajar and Chunker could see two young adult men entering. Both were dressed in work clothes and were carrying various tools. One of them, a slightly taller brown haired individual, was carrying a ladder, while the other one, who had blonde hair, had a bucket of paint in his hand.

"Are you serious, Finn?", the blonde one asked. "You said your new house needs a bit of tidying up and some paint. This place is a dump!"

"Oh, come on, Brody. It's not that bad." Finn answered.

"I just hope you didn't pay too much for... this." Brody gestured around to the dusty interior.

"No, in fact the previous owner was really glad to be rid of it. Said it was haunted or something like that. So, yes, I got it really cheap!"

"That's something at least. And you said there'll be pizza and beer?"

"Absolutely. Now, let's get to work!"

The two young men began to look around the house. Chunker, meanwhile, had listened with interest. It wasn't the first time a fleshy had bought the house. Usually, Chunker and his housemates got rid of them pretty quickly. What was different this time, however, was, that the other two ghosts were currently on holiday on a Caribbean Island, leaving Chunker to take care of everything. The smile on his face broadened considerably. That meant he got to play with those two meat bags all by himself!

Chunker didn't have to wait too long. It was obvious that the two young men were planning to renovate the whole house and were now beginning with the living room.

"Hey, Finn?" Brody asked. "Could you pass me the paint roller?"

"Sure."

Finn was rummaging in the box they had carried into the room, and pulled out a roller, a tray and a brush.

As they started painting the room, Chunker, who was hiding in the ceiling, was able to get a better look at the two men. They were both in their early twenties and lean, though clearly not working out much. Finn was slightly taller and had an ever so slightly more muscular build, but the difference was not that big. Chunker's gaze lingered a bit on their firm asses. Both had a nice bubble butt. Chunker could tell from the bantering that the two were probably friends, straight friends from what he could tell. Even when Brody climbed up the ladder to paint the wall, Finn didn't seem to be ogling his friend. Chunker grinned and started to think about what to do with the two of them.

About an hour later, he had the perfect idea. He watched as the two men continued their work, occasionally drinking water and chatting. Just when Brody was taking a sip out of the water bottle while still on the ladder, with Finn underneath it, Chunker made his move. There was a tray of paint on the ladder with Brody, near to the edge. All it needed was a bit of a ghostly push to send it down, right on top of Finn, covering the surprised man in a thick layer of white paint.

"Aaaaaahhhh! Fuck! Brody!"

Finn stumbled back in surprise and tripped over the bucket of white paint that had been standing there. He didn't topple it over completely, but another part of his clothing got a new layer of paint, namely his ass.

Chunker, who was floating above the mess, chuckled. The two men were flustered, and Finn was trying to clean the paint off of his face, while Brody was looking on from his vantage point.

"Can't you watch what you're doing?", Finn asked.

"It's not my fault! I didn't even touch the tray."

"Oh, shut up, will you. Of course, you knocked it over with your fat ass."

Brody couldn't come up with another explanation and shrugged. "Well, sorry man."

He climbed down the ladder and watched Finn try to clean himself up with a rag. It didn't really work, and, when he turned around, Brody was unable to hold back a snort of laughter.

"What is it?", Finn asked.

"Nothing. I mean, you are really white now."

"Ha. Ha."

"Seriously, man. It's everywhere."

"Yeah, yeah." Finn said and pulled the wet cloth over his face.

"But seriously, there's no way you're going to get that out when it's dry. Does this house have a shower?"

"There should be. Let's try it."

Brody nodded. "Alright. You take a shower and I try to clean up the mess here."

"Thanks, man."

"Don't worry. But, hey. Try to be quick. I want my pizza!"

"Okay, okay."

Finn made his way to the bathroom which had, indeed, an old shower installed. He carefully closed and locked the door before he started to strip out of his paint stained clothing.

Chunker, who was hovering a bit behind him, was watching. As Finn pulled down his pants, Chunker could finally get a good look at the man's naked ass. He had to admit that it was a fine ass, a tight bubble butt. What really baffled him however was the front department. Chunker hadn't been sure which of the two men would be his main toy, but the size of Finn's manhood made the decision pretty easy.

Finn stepped into the shower and turned on the hot water, which started spraying on him in a nice, strong stream.

"Ahh. That's good."

When Chunker was sure that Finn was busy enjoying the shower, he floated out of his hiding place towards the door. Finn had locked it to have some privacy but as far as Chunker was concerned, Finn should present his assets a bit more proudly. Silently, Chunker's ghostly fingers unlocked the door and swung it open entirely, which would give everyone passing by a real good look on the showering man. Then, Chunker quickly squeezed himself into the pipework and made his way to the shower.

Meanwhile, Finn was enjoying the hot, steamy water. Modern showers didn't get all that hot, but this one here was old and the water temperature was pleasantly high. Some of the paint had already started to dry, so Finn was rubbing his face and hair with his eyes closed and thus did not notice the faintly blue glowing ectoplasm dripping out of the showerhead, somewhat solidifying into Chunker’s massive, yet spectral form behind the young man.

Carefully not to be too obvious, Chunker extended his ghostly arms around Finn's waist and started rubbing his hands over the firm chest, feeling the young man's nipples ever so slightly. Finn didn't notice consciously, but Chunker could feel the man's body reacting under his hands. Slowly, he moved his hands lower. Finn's body was a work of art, a finely crafted piece of art. Chunker took his time feeling the muscles under the wet skin, the firm pecs, the well-defined abs, and then, finally, the pubic hair and, underneath, Finn's large cock.

It took all the self-control Chunker had to only apply the lightest touches to the man's dick, but Chunker had other plans still. So, he only caressed the soft dick very carefully, not strong enough for Finn to be recognizable in the conscious part of his mind, but absolutely enough for his subconscious to notice.

Finn moaned quietly and unconsciously and leaned against the cold tile wall next to him. Meanwhile, Chunker was stroking and tickling the half-hard cock, playing with it and teasing the head, while Finn was still leaning against the wall, his eyes still closed.

The moaning intensified, and soon, Finn's cock was fully hard. Careful not to overdo it, Chunker continued to stimulate the young man, who was now bucking his hips back and forth, his eyes still closed when, just as planned, Chunker heard Brody walk the corridor leading to the bathroom. That was his cue to disappear into the pipes again!

"Okay, I've got the mess cleaned up somewha- woha." Brody had just arrived in front of the wide open door and had a good look on the other man bucking his hips, displaying his erect manhood for the world to see.

"I... oh, ehm. Sorry to interrupt." Brody backed away quickly.

Finn, on the other hand, had been taken aback and his eyes flew open quickly. "Brody! Oh, shit. Sorry, man."

"Yeah, no, it's fine. Just, you know, I can still see you."

Finn scrambled for the towel, wrapped it around his waist and left the shower. "Just a second."

"Sure, sure."

Brody stood awkwardly a few steps down the corridor, just enough to give Finn some privacy despite the wide open door. There was an awkward silence until Brody remarked: "You know, when I suggested you enjoy a shower, I didn't mean..."

"Brody. Don't."

"Right. Sorry."

Most of Finn's clothes were still covered in half-wet paint. There was really no use in putting them on, so, Finn decided to just put on his boxer shorts and carry the rest of his clothes in front of him to hide as much as he could. Not that it was necessary, though. Finn's cock had very quickly gotten soft again when Brody had caught him... doing what exactly?

"I don't think we can do anything more today." Finn broke the tension. "I mean, I need a new set of clothes and all."

Chunker, who was listening in from a wall behind Brody shook his head. No, no, the fun had only just begun. Quickly, he made a noise like a rumbling stomach, just when Brody agreed.

"Oh, right. On the other hand, I still promised pizza and beer, right?" Finn quickly added in reaction to his friends supposed hunger reaction.

"Right! Great idea!" Brody had a tendency to leave the situation as quickly as possible but also didn't want his friend to feel bad. So, he suggested: "Maybe we can watch something on the TV if it still works while eating?"

Finn gladly agreed. That would surely stop any awkward conversation.

Both friends slumped down in the couch in the living room and settled on a rerun of some old Buff the Vampire Slayer episode. They ordered pizza and beer which quickly arrived. Of course, with Finn being half naked, Brody had to go to the door to receive it.

When the two of them were finally relaxing a bit, Chunker, who had floated into the couch could finally make his move. Again, he started slowly. Not unlike before, small tendrils of blue ectoplasm crept into Finn's boxer shorts and brushed ever so slightly against the flaccid man-meat inside.

Finn reacted instantly, just as Chunker had hoped. A tingling sensation spread through his lower body, and a small moan escaped him.

"Everything alright?", Brody asked.

"Yeah, sure." Finn answered and tried to readjust himself without Brody noticing.

Chunker couldn't really see what was going on, but he could feel it. He was faintly stroking the half-hard dick, tickling it and massaging the balls with his ghostly appendages.

Even though Brody tried to focus on the television, it became harder and harder for him to ignore Finn. The other man tried to subtly readjust the contents of his boxer shorts often and even though Brody really didn't want to look, he could see said contents moving and twitching slightly even when Finn did not touch them.

Of course, Finn tried to hide it as best as he could, but certain facts cannot be hidden very well, especially, when the facts are already quite large in their flaccid state. So, not only did Brody notice some twitching in his friends groin but also a growing half-hard boner that made a rather clear outline against the fabric of the shorts.

Chunker knew that now, the real fun would be about to begin. When Finns hand moved for his beer bottle the next time, Chunker quickly squeezed his massive form into the small bottle, ready to start.

"So...", Brody asked carefully. "You okay, buddy?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, are you, I dunno, okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

Finn moved the bottle to his mouth to take a big sip, when Brody sighed and spoke again.

"Look, I really don't know how to ask this and I'm sorry, but... Are you, like, gay, Finn?"

Finn spit out his beer - and Chunker, who had just prepared to enter the young man's body with the beer - in surprise.

"What?! No! Why do you ask that?"

"I'm really, really sorry, but, dude, I saw you in the bathroom, and I didn't mean to, but, well, you had a hard on, and, you know, if you need someone to talk to, I'm always here. To talk, of course, not for anything else. And now..." Brody gestured towards Finns crotch but his courage left him again, so he continued: " I'll stop talking."

Chunker, who had reformed in the couch, was laughing his ass off. If only his housemates would have seen this! He would never hear the end of this!

Finn was tomato-red by now and tried to cover himself with his hands.

"Oh god, I'm sorry, I just feel so weird today. But I'm not gay, I promise!"

"Okay. I'm not gonna judge you, okay? You're my best friend, and, you know, I'm cool with it if you're gay or bi or whatever."

"Yeah, but I'm not."

Let's see about that, decided Chunker. He didn't get in the usual way, so he had to take another route. With a sudden push of his ectoplasmic essence, he squeezed himself into the tight virgin asshole of Finn that was firmly planted on the couch.

All of a sudden, Finn, who had felt some unusual sensation on his behind, jolted up. "Brody! Did you just grab my ass?!"

Brody was flabbergasted. "What? No!"

"I just felt... oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!"

Chunker, who was still not visible, had started to stimulate Finn's prostate from the inside while working his way upward, filling up the man's body with his essence.

"Are you... okay?", Brody asked again.

"I... oh..." moaned Finn again, as his right arm started to act seemingly on its own, spreading out on the back of the couch, around Brody's shoulders.

"What are you doing man?", asked Brody.

"Nothing, I..." Finn started but was interrupted by a sudden sensation of lust and longing. At the same time, his right arm tried to pull Brody in but was met with considerable resistance. Even though Brody was a bit smaller than Finn, he was just as strong.

Chunker, who was almost in full control of Finn's body now frowned. But this wasn't anything a little ectoplasm injection couldn't fix. Brody stared at Finn's arm, transfixed as it started to rapidly grow more muscular, quickly reaching bodybuilder-like dimensions. However, it was only Finn's arm that was changing. At the shoulder, the comically large arm still connected to the same torso. Brody was so enthralled that he wasn't able to react when the now considerably stronger arm pulled him in again. A big fat grin was now plastered on Finn's face, and he said, with a voice that didn't quite seem to belong to him: "Oh, we're gonna have so much fun!"

Before Brody could react, he was pulled into a kiss, too perplex to even struggle. Inside Finn, Chunker prepared for what was to come. He was proud to be pretty good at possessing fleshies, but he had rarely tried two at once. When the lips of the two men locked, Chunker sent a part of his essence into the other man, who was still too surprised to struggle.

Chunker felt Brody's body react to the new sensation. He immediately got into it and Chunker felt the other man's cock growing hard quickly as well. Possessing two people at once was difficult, nearly impossible really. But in this case, the pent up sexual desires of the two made things easier. Chunker just had to give some direction and watch "his boys" go at it full force.

Finn pushed Brody's head down, and Chunker felt the hot, wet mouth enveloping Finn's dick. It was an incredible sensation, the soft lips of the other man and the wetness of his tongue. At the same time, Chunker could feel the somewhat salty and manly precum marinated cock on Brody's tongue as he began to suck. It took all of Chunker's strength to keep the two men under his control and not get swept away.

Finn, meanwhile, was getting lost in the sensation. All his senses were occupied by the blowjob he was receiving and the warm wetness and the incredible feeling on his cock. Even the sounds, Brody's heavy breathing, the moans of the two, the gagging sound as the thick shaft was shoved into his mouth, it was almost too much for the man. However, with a sheer feat of will, Chunker prevented the young man from cumming right here and then. Instead, he made Finn shove Brody's head away and get up.

It almost didn't need any impulse from Chunker for Brody to turn around and stick his bubble butt in the air, offering his virgin ass. Chunker quickly positioned the hard and ready cock of his puppet against the tight entrance and pushed forward, while Finn's hands practically ripped the work pants down.

Chunker couldn't believe how amazing it felt. He was not a virgin by any means, but the tight virgin hole, combined with the hot and tight insides, the incredible sensation on his cock and the moans and feelings of the man taking it was almost too much for him.

"Oh, shit!", Finn groaned. "This is the best fucking thing ever!"

Chunker could only agree. His puppets were fucking each other hard, and the sensations were almost overwhelming him. Straight boys his ass. The two of them were so into it, it was obvious that some unspoken desire had pent up for most of their adult lives.

Finn was pounding into the other man as hard as he could, and Brody was thrusting back, his own dick swinging free and dripping copious amounts of pre-cum on the sofa below. Finally, the two men were at their limit.

"Finn, oh shit, I'm gonna cum."

"Do it, man, fucking shoot it!"

Brody let out a scream and his dick began spurting thick loads of white cum all over the sofa.

"Fuck!", moaned Finn.

And then, the orgasm hit him. He felt his balls contracting and his dick twitching and a huge amount of cum being released from his dick, straight into Brody's ass, who was still thrusting back on his cock, riding out his own orgasm.

With the double orgasm, Chunker couldn't hold on any longer. He was forcefully ejected from two bodies at once, experiencing the intense rollercoaster of emotions as if he just cummed himself.

Before the two men could recover, Chunker flew off to his attic. That had been a great possession session. He just hoped that the two men would return for more.

This is my contribution to the annual great story gift exchange, for @thepossessionmaster.

[chronically-ghosted]

my home is you

rating: general

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

word count: 1.6K

summary: you warm frankie up after he stays out in the cold.

warnings: snuggling, neck kisses, absurdly large sweaters, family disagreements, mentions of financial hardships, the weakness of southerners when it comes to the cold, mentions of PTSD and treatment, discussions of a dead relative, but honestly just lots of fluff

a/n: @maggiemayhemnj it's here, thank you for your patience! and thank you to everyone who sent in prompts for my mini-challenge, Merry Thanksgiving Nonsense 2023 -- I had so much fun! this can be take place in the same universe as "in another life", but it doesn't have to!

also shout out to the boy irl who inspires all of this 🤍

There are certain things you pick up about a person after two years of marriage. 

In certain cases, you might learn how they prefer their socks to be folded up, or what brand of detergent they think smells the best. Maybe their eating habits after a bad day, or how quickly they go through shampoo. 

After marrying Frankie and listening to his endless business out and around the house, you can pinpoint his moods with startling accuracy based on what exactly he is working on. If it’s your car or his, he’s worried about something, more precise than any mechanic you could ever afford. If he’s working on rebuilding the engine Benny asked him to check out, then he’s focused, in a good but distant mood (you always get nervous when he hoists five hundred pounds above him with a crank) and you know he needs that time in his head. However - for some reason you may ask him about one day or you might just accept it as one of those things as he is the way that he is - when Frankie’s pissed, he works on the roof. 

Maybe because he gets to beat the shit out of something, but when you come home and he’s up there pounding off some rotten shingles, you know he’s had a very bad day.

Which is what you find after you pull up in the driveway from the grocery store one afternoon. Somehow in the hour and half it took you to get eggnog, butter, and melting chocolate (Santi’s annual Christmas bash only a week away), something had really set your husband off. You’d never seen someone so angrily staple down Plastic Santa and his reindeer before. 

So, you’d gone inside without calling out to him, knowing it was better to simply let him be.

That was over an hour ago. 

That was also when the temperature was in the sixties. The sun long gone, the air rapidly cooling down and with an oncoming and sudden wind, you wonder if it will be you who knocks some sense into him, or the weather. 

As you take your freshly-made eggnog bread out of the oven, you hear the clatter of his metal ladder sliding close. You rush to wash off your heads and clean down the counter as the garage door cranks up, his tool box jingling when it’s returned to the shelf. You hear the back door open and you sprint into the laundry room. He might head directly for a shower, in which case, what you’re doing will be rather irrelevant, but you desperately want that first smile, that thing that’ll make him grin and let the tension loose from his shoulders. On your toes, you move back a few towels and ugly Christmas sweaters you bring out only once a year in search of what you’re looking for that you bring out once in a blue moon. You find it and grin. 

You didn’t miss your chance. Frankie, with his head tipped back on the couch, eyes closed, arms locked over each other, is pink. Pink in the cheeks from exertion. Pink on his nose, ears, and hands from the cold. A true Floridan at heart, his body apparently shut down when exposed to temperatures below what you’d experience in the Caribbean. Couldn’t even make it to the shower to warm up, poor thing.

As quietly as you can, you sneak over to him, unfurling what you have in your hands. The instant before you sit in his lap, you see the tiniest quirk of a smile pluck up his mouth.

You open the triple XL sweater in your hands over his head. It practically falls over his shoulders so, without much difficulty, you curl up under the sweater and join him in the darkness. 

The enclosed space brings his cold nose close to yours and you kiss him gently, right on that pink flush. You rub your hands over his forearms, his skin icy to the touch. You can feel the chill under that ridiculously thin red t-shirt and you shuffle closer, hoping your body heat trapped so close to his will warm him up. In the half-dark, the scent of sticky, masculine sweat permeates the little air you have, dampening the pine smell of the sweater that you never can manage to wash out. 

You wrinkle your nose. “You smell.” 

Silence. And then –

He chuckles. “I know. But you smell like cinnamon.” 

Since you first pulled you both under, he moves. He unlocks his arms and you curl even closer. God, he smells much worse when you tuck your head into his neck, the curls pressed against his skin damp, the pulse in his throat strong, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. With a silent, long inhale, Frankie puts his big palms on your thighs, then your hips, and on an exhale, he pulls you into his chest, the bristles of his graying beard warm and scratching against your forehead. His fingers sit like external ribs – heavy, strong, protecting your heart. 

“Is there a reason you put your granddad’s sweater over us?” He asks after a moment, his voice rich and sweet like caramel. The sweater had been enormous on your granddad when he was alive, but he could never find a reason to get rid of it. You spent many Christmases making cookies or putting up the ornaments on the tree while he wore it and when he died, it was one of the only things you took from his house. 

“You looked cold,” you murmur into his neck. He hums his agreement and you get your wish: beneath your chest, you feel the anger and tension and shitty day he’s had flush out of him with every breath. 

 Your fingers, squeezed between his chest and yours, dig into that damp t-shirt. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” 

Talking – never was Frankie’s strong suit, before and especially after he joined the military and learned to take everything on the chin. 

But, over the years and by carefully coming together over the landmines of the past, he started talking to you. And then he started talking to a therapist who specializes in PTSD. And then he started talking more and better and quite often with you. 

But it’s not easy. It doesn’t come naturally. He knows he’s safe, he knows you're safe, but there is an active choice made every time he opens his mouth. 

“My mom.” He says quietly. “She doesn’t understand why we aren’t flying up there for Christmas. And she doesn’t understand why I won’t let her pay for our plane tickets.” 

You squeeze your fingers, kiss his neck distractedly. Ever since you bought the house together, money’s been extraordinarily tight. You had suggested neither of you get gifts for each other this year, but Frankie wouldn’t hear of it. 

Frankie also loathes accepting money from anyone.

You inhale and Frankie does too, your minds silently on the same thing, the same anxious weight pulling you together in ways you couldn’t quite put into words. 

In your vows you talked about for better or worse. This is worse. 

Two years later, you redefine what partner means every single day with him. 

“I hope next year it’ll be different,” you say to his chin. You actually really like his mom, his family, and your stomach knots at the thought of them being disappointed in you. 

You’re starting to sweat beneath the sweater, up against the damp heat of your husband.

“It will.” Anger gone, he’s your sweet, committed Frankie again. The man that you put your faith and trust in time and time again, and would do it without question for the rest of your life. His palm rubs warm stripes up and down your back. “I know it will.” 

You sit in the darkness and the silence and the warmth of having a giant sweater tucked up around you and you listen to the beating of his heart. A sound you’ve found you can’t sleep without. 

“Thank you for checking on me.” 

He sounds so genuinely grateful your eyes flush hot for a moment. 

“Of course, baby.” You kiss his cheek, the wiry brush of his beard. “Always.”

He squeezes you extra tight when you make that promise. 

Always. 

Your heart beats, your eyes flutter shut. He breathes like he is at peace, with you wrapped up in his arms. 

Always. 

“I made an extra loaf,” you say after a long, content stretch of silence. You grin, even though he can’t see. 

“Yeah? The eggnog bread?”

“Mhm hmm. But you have to shower first.”

You giggle as Frankie pins your thighs to his hips as he swings onto his feet. The loose sweater finally falls over his head but you can barely fit through the head hole. 

“A shower it is, then.”

He walks on memory as you fight through the rolls of material. Finally and by some miracle, you get the sweater off you both as Frankie makes it into the bedroom. 

His hair is sticking up, sweat dried and statick-y, when he drops you onto the bed.

You didn’t know it is possible to carry the weight of the love you feel for Frankie and not burst into a million pieces.

You giggle as he pats down your own floating strands of hair and then tucks it behind your ears, his eyes finding yours. 

Beneath his gaze, you feel gigantic and small, shy and confident, terrified and pleased – all at once. You can’t possibly be the thing that fills his eyes with so much love.

“I love you,” he says, simply, obviously, so much and so little. 

“I love you too.” 

He tugs you to your feet and kisses you, a welcoming, familiar glide of his lips against yours. He keeps you close when he pulls back.

“I’ve had a very shitty day and you’re the only thing that makes it better. So, you’re going to take a shower with me and then we're going to watch any Christmas movie you want, okay, baby?” 

You swallow the tightness in your throat, the wetness in your eyes. His hands feel so big around your cheeks. 

There is quite literally nowhere else you’d rather be.

“Okay.”  

[the-gnomish-bastard]

Alright, more tips for DMs when making a campaign: Villain Edition

When creating a BBEG, stop taking ideas from popular mainstream dnd campaigns, or classic villain ideas. You can still do this if you want, but I’m suggesting a better idea.

Aspire to create Davy Jones. Why? Because he’s the perfect villain. Think of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies as a dnd campaign, with everyone choosing Swashbuckler Rogue. You got the three main players, Jack, Will, and Elizabeth. Barb pass is a player too, but they joined late in the campaign and were given a premade character based on a previous villain for time reasons.

They all get caught up in stupid shenanigans. The whole first part of Dead Man’s Chest is world building. The DM shows off the kraken, and shows off what kind of man Davy Jones is. The second half is pretty much all combat. The DM sends in the kraken cause the party is running away from a planned fight, the kraken does a lot more damage than the DM was expecting, and Elizabeth betrays Jack to save the party. The DM did not plan for this.

In At World’s End, the first thing that happens is they have a time skip, and the DM introduces the true villain, the one behind everything. The British. The party goes on a quest to revive Jack, and they succeed! To put people’s minds at ease and really hammer in what a villain the East India Trading Company is, he shows off the corpse of the kraken. Jack is on a quest for immortality now, having seen death for himself. We get to the final part, the showdown. Shit happens and the main combat BBEG is slain, at the cost of a party member.

That is a dnd campaign there.

And why does it work? Because Davy Jones plays off of each character so well. He has a sense of humor, he’s intelligent, but most of all, he’s heartbroken.

A perfect example of a tragic villain. He falls in love with a goddess, she gives him a temporary job to ferry the souls of the dead, and on the one day every ten years he can go on land, she doesn’t show up to relieve him of his burden. She abandons him. And in his rage, he betrays her. He sells her out to the Brethren Court, and upon realizing what he did, he falls deeper into despair and cuts out his own heart. He goes on the be a legendary terror amongst the seas, but he never finds peace. He was used as a tool and he dies as a tool for the British.

Then there’s the comedic aspect. He deals with Jack’s antics very well, and at times he makes jokes, albeit dark ones, but still. And in a dnd campaign, you’re gonna have at least one or two Jack Sparrows.

Best part? He’s not even the main villain, nor is he in the wrong when we first meet him. He’s come to collect on the debt Jack owes, which he has every right to do. Jack then steals from him again, and he ends up forced to serve the real villain behind everything. The British. Davy Jones is the villain made to be fought, and the British were used as the overall villain.

Basically, put Davy Jones in your campaigns.

[yeosanitycheck]

hi:))

I was wondering if you could make something with ot8 ateez having a caribbean so/. I just think that it would be interesting to see.

If you so make this thank you alot

-🌥

hi!! i really enjoyed writing this. ty for requesting, i hope u like it <3

bf!ateez with a Caribbean significant other

pairing: bf!ateez x caribbean reader

warnings!: none, fluff

a/n: im in the process of finishing up current requests!! then i have another text fic coming up :)

hongjoong🌶️

The relationship with Hongjoong feels like a continuous exchange of artistic ideas. He’s intrigued when you introduce him to Caribbean beats—especially reggae and soca. He can’t help but play around with the rhythms, blending them with his own music. One evening, as you both sit by the beach, he plays a melody he’s been working on—a fusion of traditional Korean sounds mixed with a hint of reggae.

Hongjoong: nervously, holding his breath “I... I hope I did it justice. Do you like it?”

As the first few notes play, you smile and start dancing, feeling the beat blend both cultures perfectly.

You: grinning “Hongjoong, it’s amazing! You really listened—you got it so right!”

Hongjoong: relieved, lighting up “Really? That means everything. So, should we add lyrics together? Korean and... maybe a bit of Patois?”

This collaboration becomes something you both do regularly, and soon, he surprises you with a track dedicated to the beauty of Caribbean culture and his love for it.

—

seonghwa🧚

Seonghwa is the type to become a true student of your culture, eagerly asking you to teach him your language and food traditions. His first big step? Definitely mastering a family recipe. He watches you intently as you walk him through the steps of making jerk chicken or curry goat, jotting down notes and even taking videos to get it right.

Later, he surprises you with a full Caribbean-inspired dinner, complete with homemade roti.

Seonghwa: nervously, serving you “I... I did my best. I hope it tastes just right.”

You take a bite and nod with approval, savoring the flavors.

You: smiling “Seonghwa, it’s perfect. You really got it down!”

His face breaks into a wide smile, and it warms your heart that he cherishes these parts of your life.

—

yunho☂️

Yunho loves the excitement of Caribbean festivals, especially Carnival. When he finds out you’re planning to attend this year, he’s beyond thrilled and insists on joining. He goes all out, even asking for costume tips and trying to get the dance moves just right.

On Carnival day, he’s like a kid in a candy store, soaking up the colors, music, and energy. You notice how he draws people in with his infectious laughter, becoming the life of the parade.

Yunho:  “This is incredible! I’ve never seen anything like it!”

Later, you sneak away for a moment on the sidelines, catching your breath as he pulls you close, his eyes sparkling with pure joy.

Yunho:  “Thank you for sharing this with me. Can we do it again next year?”

—

yeosang🪽

Yeosang’s quiet curiosity leads him to ask about Caribbean folklore. Under the moonlight, you start by telling him the tale of Anansi the Spider. His eyes widen, utterly enchanted by the characters and stories.

Yeosang: smiling “And he really tricked the tiger? I love how clever he is.”

When he finds out some of these stories were told to you by your grandparents, he’s even more drawn in. On lazy weekend evenings, it becomes a routine for you both to share stories, and he insists on a new one each time, sometimes even adding his own twist.

Yeosang: grinning mischievously “What if Anansi had a little help this time?”

You laugh at his imaginative additions, feeling the magic of the tales all over again.

—

San🗻

San is immediately drawn to your family’s warmth and community spirit. During your family’s big cookout, he jumps right in, chatting with everyone, from your younger cousins to your grandparents.  He’s fascinated by the different flavors and insists on helping out in the kitchen, peppering your relatives with questions about recipes and traditions.

San: enthusiastically, to your grandma “Can you teach me how to make this? I want to learn everything.”

Your grandmother takes a special liking to him, calling him her “honorary grandson.” Later, as everyone gathers for music and dancing, San joins in effortlessly, even trying out new moves.

San: whispering to you later “This is one of the happiest days of my life. I’ve never felt so at home.”

—

mingi🩰

Mingi’s excitement is contagious as you both head to the beach for some snorkeling. He’s insistent on diving right in, and his face lights up at the coral reefs and colorful fish beneath the water, even though he fumbles a bit with the snorkeling gear, he’s quick to laugh at himself.

Mingi: coming up from the water, laughing “Did you see that fish? It looked straight at me!”

Afterward, as you both relax on the shore, he chats non-stop about the experience, already planning the next adventure.

Mingi: smiling, eyes bright “What’s next? Paddleboarding? Steel drum dancing?”

His energy makes every outing feel like a new adventure.

—

wooyoung👹

When Wooyoung joins you for a family event, he’s instantly in his element, charming everyone. Your aunties can’t stop laughing at his jokes, and he has your cousins teaching him local dances. As the evening goes on, he’s fully immersed in the festivities, asking everyone about their favorite memories and foods, making each person feel seen and valued.

Wooyoung: dancing with you, laughing “Am I doing it right? Just don’t let me embarrass myself!”

The night ends with everyone declaring him an honorary family member, and he whispers to you as you both leave.

Wooyoung: gratefully “I’ve never felt this welcomed. I love your family already.”

—

jongho🧸

Unlike the bustling gatherings, Jongho’s favorite moments are the quiet ones spent exploring secluded beaches. One evening, he brings a picnic, and you watch the waves together, taking in the night air. He’s amazed by the serene beauty of the ocean at night, and it inspires him to open up to you in ways he usually doesn’t.

Jongho: softly, staring at the ocean “I’ve never felt this kind of peace before. It’s like the ocean is holding everything we’ve been through.”

You: nodding “This is where I feel closest to home.”

He squeezes your hand, grateful to share these peaceful moments with you, bonding over the beauty and simplicity of your island home.

[ja3hwa]

Hey!!!! First of all, I’d like to say that you are probably one of my favorite fic writers out here and I’m always so excited to read your fics! I would like to submit something for the sleepover party (it’s my first time so I hope I’m doing this right). I wanted to ask for a Yunho or Wooyoung (you pick) x reader where they’re watching her favorite movie, like Romeo and Juliet or Pirates of the Caribbean, and the reader is so entranced she’s mouthing all the lines. The Ateez member notice, and it turns him on, like a lot, to see her so passionate about the movie. Right before the characters kiss on screen, he quotes the lines back to her, to her surprise, (he learnt it just for this), and then kisses her, and the two start having passionate sex…. Is that okay? Or is this too complicated? If it is, Dw!!! (Sorry I wrote so much 😅)

Thank youu baby, for the send, hehe. I'm gonna be honest with you i haven't seen pirates of the Caribbean, but i have seen a few different types of Romeo and juliet plays. But I've never watched the films of it, ahhah. Also, i picked Yuyu cause I'm down bad for actor yunho ahah

But let's imagine...

Yunho is leaning back along the couch his left arm draped over the cushions, and the other resting on your lower back drawing shapes lightly on your exposed skin. His legs were spread wide, his thigh leaning snugly against your crossed legs. Your eyes are glued to the screen as you watched your favorite version of Romeo and Juliet for what seems like the millionth time.

This was only Yunho's second time watching it—well as fair as you knew—. He had secretly watched a few scenes over and over to remember the lines. Specifically, the love confession. He knew how much of a romantic you were, so when you asked to watch it, he was thrilled to watch it with you so he could put his plan into action.

His eyes were stuck on you, watching the way you smiled or how you mouthed the words softly. Your eyebrows knotted when a character kissed another. Or how your face turned red when someone said a flirtatious line. You were so smitten for romance. And then, as the scene starts, Yunho can't help but grin.

"Lady, by yonder blessed moon, I swear. That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops—"

Your head whipped so quickly that you swore it almost snapped. Your eyes were wide, and your throat went dry. Yunho's smile only grew, his legs spreading wider. "What shall I swear by?"

Your lips quivered a tear building on the corner of your eye. "If my heart's dear love—"

His hand that was playing with your back now slowly snaked around your waist, sitting up to tug you slowly towards him. You let him manhandle you until you were perched on his right thigh. "O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?"

He whispered that line, his lips so close to yours, and then you finally responded. Your fingers lacing into his loose shirt, "What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?"

"The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine." You could feel his hot breath on your face. His hands gripped your ass slightly, grinding your body forward so your chest was flushed against his. You had forgotten the movie entirely now as you leaned in to seal your lips against his own. Your mouths move in sync like a play only the two of you can perform. Your hands, dance along one another, feeling every curve and imperfection. Neither of you could tell when or how clothes were lost or how Yunho ended up on top of you. But as the movie drew to a climax, he made sure you did too. Sunk so beautiful on his cock, he listened to your moans like his favorite song.

His thrusts, were so gentle, so moving. Like he spoke words of endearment without his voice. His fingers laced with yours, as his lips kiss any part of your skin. “My Romeo.” You’d whisper.

“My Juliet,” He murmured back.

-

anywayyss hehe. I hope you like this. I tried making it more of a poetic thingy i dont't know. but also thank you for sending in an asks again. ♡♡♡

[madbalalaika]

Your pirates of the Caribbean fanart is so beautiful! Please, please share tips for how to do that beautiful painting technique you used! <3

Hi, anon! Thank you so much, both for the compliment, and for the question💗✨

Edit: I've reached the 30 pics per post limit and will have to make a part 2, oopsie daisies. But I'm sure it won't be as long as this :"D

In terms of technique, I guess it depends which part exactly you're talking about, because most of it is just oil painting+pencil drawing made digital, where I sort of block my colours first, then blend as I see fit (or in some parts don't blend at all, which is what some classical painters do; it's really just habits and preferences from years of experience) and add details using a pencil brush.

If you're interested, stay tuned as I try and give some tips while showing my whole process using this lovely photo of Commodore as an example:

Part 1. The basics

I usually only use these 2 brushes, just because I like them a lot, rarely more than that; and I've changed the settings on the second one so it rotates in the direction of a stroke instead of being at a fixed angle.

SO, firstly I just make a sketch of course, then make a very rough base colour layer underneath it, not too dark, not too light, and fill in the background with a solid colour.

(don't be fooled, I don't actually name my layers cause I'm way too lazy for that)

Since we're talking about digital painting here, my biggest tip would be to make a habit of picking the right colours manually, like you would an for an actual oil painting, instead of using the eyedropper tool on the source. Colour matching is an insanely useful skill, it's like relative pitch in music, or an accurate eye in architecture; while it's not absolutely necessary to have it, you'll want it if you want less burden on your brain and more freedom of expression. "Learn the rules to learn to break them" kind of thing (and you'll be able to match the colours to the picture in your head as well, how cool is that? Hehe) I've done this so much that at this point I just do it for the hell of it. It's very fun :D And, as you might've guessed, I do it for the entirety of the process, with some rare exceptions. While I used to do so in the past, I don't like to use blending modes (eg. soft light, overlay, multiply, etc.) for shading anymore. I find it takes all the excitement out of the whole process for the sake of cheap dopamine, and it used to hinder my skill development because I wasn't learning to "speak the language" of art, I just "used google translate", so to speak.

Anyways... A sketch, then a rough midtone colour layer underneath + background:

Another great tip: I learned it from a video on good costume design in fantasy, which is so unrelated to painting that you're probably like "wha- what..?", BUT... the tip was "the costumes don't have to be historically accurate, they just have to make sense in the story". Your colours don't have to match your reference perfectly, they just have to make sense inside the painting, and that's what will make your art feel alive (along with other things ofc).

Next I create another layer on top of all that and get to actually paint, and this is where the blocking part comes in.

There is a really good video on this subject if you want to learn this kind of technique, and an Instagram page of a different artist that I've been immensely admiring for some time now. Although now that I think about it, neither of them use midtones as a base... Anyway,

I start with the darkest shadows, moving on towards lighter ones, noting some places where the they reflect more blueish/grayish tones of his uniform on his neck and jawline, and where they reflect the reddish environment on his nose, temple, cheek, ear, and neck.

Another great artist to help improve lighting skills.

I frequently make new layers on top of everything as I go, just so that I have some room for error and can delete them later if I'm not satisfied, and then merge them down if I am, because I hate being indecisive with too many changes, and having unnecessary clutter.

Sometimes if I don't like how a certain colour looks on the painting, I undo the stroke (or paint on top, if it's too late to undo) and just tweak it on the wheel until it looks right to my eye and move on. Eg. on the next screenshot, I didn't like how that blue from the sketch looked one the screenshot before, so I adjusted it a little with Hue/Saturation.

I also like to slightly exaggerate the palette so that it looks a bit more interesting:

The last thing I usually do is light, with tiny highlights being the absolute last, because both are very easy to overdo. I manually pick the colour from the colour wheel, make a few strokes where it's supposed to be the brightest, and then use eyedropper tool to sample different spots from the freshly-painted areas to make it easier to blend.

Now while that colour might look pretty light, it isn't light at all. To be fair, the difference between light and shadow isn't even that big sometimes. I used to overshoot with either of them in the past, picking either too light or too dark, and was frustrated and baffled why my painting was looking as shit as it was.

So I guess another tip: for lights, pick the colour much closer to your midtone than you think you need, and then adjust accordingly. The reason being: your eyes and brain are partners in crime and are constantly lying to you.

The (I guess second) base is done, and at this point, it's just a matter of staring at his face for 2, or however long, hours and adding more and more strokes, sampling different spots between them, until I like how it looks.

Sometimes, if I realize that either the proportions are a bit off or some lines don't look the way they're supposed to, I use some Photoshop tools to my advantage. I merge everything together (cause at this point I really don't plan on changing the sketch itself or the background), and use Liquify to move things around. So now it's a one-layer painting, just like the real deal lol

And then I continue doing the same thing I'd done before with all the other parts.

Liquify on his face:

I only lightly paint over most sketch lines because I'm really not that concerned about some of them peeking out, especially at this stage, nor am I very pedantic.

Don't forget about subsurface scattering in areas where light meets shadow, of course:

If I see a place like this where I need a smooth gradient but don't feel like actually doing it cause it'll ruin the ~vibe~, and really, I just wanna add more a bit more pizzazz, I just take the pencil brush and hatch over it instead, alternating the darker and the lighter tones.

The caravat:

A lot of the time professional artists will advise you to look for simple shapes in things - squares, circles, triangles, rhombuses, etc. I'm no exception. Simple shapes will let you see patterns and some sort of order. It's easier to understand complex shapes that way, whether it be fabric, faces/bodies, or inanimate objects.

As you can see here, my brain mostly likes to look for triangles, or half-circles. It just feels right 👌

The wig:

I learned to use translucency, with hair and light fabrics fading into background, from watching and doing watercolour. Here's one of my all-time favourite watercolour artists that does that sometimes, and it looks absolutely stunning: 미술부화실 misulbu

The waistcoat and the jacket:

The hat:

Another thing to point out, if you haven't noticed already, I really like my stokes straight unlike myself, with exceptions, of course. It's another habit I picked up from watching other people draw, as well as my years of studying art professionally. Teachers taught me to use straight criss-crossing hatches to indicate form, instead of curved ones (there was a really cool tiktok showing that kind of technique, but I can't find it :(). Not that I follow their advice in its intended way majority of the time lololol but um... yeah...

So anyway, this is the end of part 1, I'll try to finish the second part tomorrow. It will be about smaller details, texture, and an tiiiny bit of 🔥grime🔥

[joelalorian]

Tides of Desire - Chapter Nine: Close Quarters

*mood board by the lovely @/janaispunk. divider by the equally lovely @/saradika-graphics

Pairing: Yacht Captain!Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Summary: TLOU no outbreak AU. Joel Miller is a luxury yacht captain running charters in the Caribbean. You join the crew as a deckhand and unexpectedly complicate Joel's peaceful existence. Basically the TLOU bunch on a Below Deck yacht.

Chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff, stolen kisses, terms of endearment (sweetheart, etc.), outdoor/semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, fingering, oral (m receiving). Smallish age gap (reader is 32 or so, Joel is 40). No use of y/n, though reader is of British descent and has the nickname Brit (occasionally used).

Series masterlist

Chapter Nine: Close Quarters

“She agreed to meet for drinks,” Tommy declared as he entered the crew mess after the charter guests deboarded, his fit body vibrating with excitement. He stole half of the sandwich you just made with a cheeky grin before sliding in next to you at the table.

“Oy!” You slapped his hand too late; he already shoved it in his fat gob. “Bloody fucking menace. Did you annoy her to death, so she agreed just to get you to go away?”

He turned puppy dog eyes on you, so like his brother, and pouted. It must be a Miller family trait to have perfected that look. Sarah was just as good at it, too. “Rude.”

You laughed, bumping his shoulder playfully. He annoyed you like an older sibling, and you got over it just as quickly. “So, Maria is sticking around for a bit? Where are you going to take her?”

Tommy ran a hand through his long, dark hair. “Yeah, she’s staying in San Juan for another few days. I’m thinking Caribar at Caribe Hilton. I need to impress her.”

Your eyes widened. That was an upscale resort with expensive food and drinks. He was going all out for this woman. “Wow. I’m sure she’ll love it.”

His hands suddenly began fidgeting. “I haven’t taken dating seriously in a real long time. And she’s unlike anyone I have dated before. She’s way outta my league. I’m scared shitless,” Tommy admitted. Turning desperate eyes on you, he added, “Would you and Joel come along? Make it a double date kinda thing? I’ll be less nervous that way.”

You weren’t sure it was a great idea, but Tommy looked like a nervous little boy at the thought of going on an actual date without some type of backup. “Are you sure you want us there? It won’t cramp your style?”

“Please? You can leave whenever you want, just be there to help get the conversation flowing until I get comfortable. Or drunk. Whichever happens first, I guess.”

Shrugging, you tilted your chin toward the upper decks. “Let me run it by Joel, I guess. I’m not sure if he’s ready to put our relationship out there like that yet. And going on a double date with you and Maria would definitely put it out there.”

“I already ran it by him – he’s ok with it if you are.”

There went any excuse you could have thought of. If Joel was okay with it, how could you ever say no. You felt giddy at just the thought of going on a double date with him. That one night in the hotel being the closest thing you’ve had to a date in far too long. “That settles it. We’re going on a double date! Just keep it on the down low amongst the crew, yeah?”

“Keep what on the down low?” Sarah chimed in as she entered the crew mess for a snack. Each of you should have been doing work to turnover the boat for the next charter, but it seemed like everyone was feeling a bit peckish.

Tommy glanced at you and winked. “I asked Maria out and she said yes.” Sarah screeched in response, throwing her arms around Tommy. “That’s great! Where are you taking her? Tell me everything!”

You left the two of them to gush over Tommy’s plans and made your way up to the main deck to see what needed done still. The next couple of hours passed in a flash, the washdown keeping you busy. Joel held you back after the tip meeting – the guests left a huge tip after your heroic actions.

“Did Tommy talk to you?” His voice rough like sandpaper on fresh cut wood, causing a delightful chill to wash down your back.

“Mmhmm. You sure you want to do this?”

You held yourself back from reaching for him – it was torture, but you stayed strong. Joel glanced around the main salon confirming that it was empty but for the two of you. His head dipped, closing the distance between you, and placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Yes, I’m sure.” A mischievous look flashed in his dark eyes, and he swatted your ass before departing for the bridge, leaving you giggling like a lovesick teen as you made your way below deck. Your phone buzzed in your pocket. Pulling it out, you giggled at the text from Joel.

JM: We’re going on a date!

By the time you showered and readied yourself for a nice evening out, the news of Tommy’s date – and your and Joel’s roles in it – was old news to the rest of the crew. Talia eyed you knowingly, her mysterious and quiet nature made you believe she saw a lot more than she let on. Sarah and Tess teased you, true to form. Jake just looked at you blankly, leaving you wondering if he was jealous.

“Make sure he pays!” Sarah demanded. “Do not take your wallet out under any circumstances.”

She was so adamant that her dad better treat you well that it left you with an aching belly from laughing so hard.

“I’m serious! He’s got it in his head that he’s a feminist and I’m afraid he thinks that means women should pay their own way. DO NOT let him get away with that, not on a Captain’s salary. You hear me?”

Your hands flew up in surrender, eyes wide at her earnest tone. “Understood. He pays. No exceptions.”

Satisfied, Sarah changed the conversation to compliment your choice in attire. You opted for the classiest dress you packed, a form fitting but not indecent black number that you had tucked away in your closet for years. It was definitely your go-to little black dress and it had been severely under-utilized for the past couple of years. You paired the dress with strappy heels – nothing too high, you didn’t want to break an ankle – and your long hair flowed over your shoulders in natural, beachy waves. Your makeup was subtle and classy, just a hint of color on your eyelids and lips to accentuate your tanned skin, a definite benefit of working outside.

“You look gorgeous,” Tess said as you did one last spin for them.

“Yeah, Dad’s gonna stumble all over his words when he sees you,” Sarah added, hugging you.

You blushed, picturing Joel staring at you in adoration, complimenting you with a nervous hitch in his deep, rumbling voice. Damn, arousal already built in your lower belly at just the thought. You were in for a delightfully torturous evening.

“Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?” Joel breathed in your ear as you followed Tommy into the resort. “I’m going to have a hard time keeping my hands off you at the table.”

“Who said you had to?” you teased in return, enjoying the warmth of his hand at your back. “And yes, you have, but please don’t stop. You look sinfully gorgeous tonight as well.”

Joel grinned, dark eyes twinkling behind thick framed glasses, his lush curls artfully falling into place atop his head. Your fingers ached to run through them, twist them around your slim digits. Part of you longed to dash away, get a room, and keep Joel to yourself for the night. But one glance at Tommy’s anxious smile, dark eyes scanning the outdoor tables in search of Maria, and you knew the pair of you would never be able to sneak away.

“Ah, there she is!” Tommy exclaimed, spotting Maria at a table tucked into a corner of the open-air seating area. He surged forward, soft breeze ruffling his long curls. You squeezed Joel’s hand, hanging back to let Tommy greet his date without the pair of you hovering over them.

“I’ve never seen him like this,” Joel’s voice rumbled in your ear. “He must really like her.” Your head bobbed in agreement, turning to smile at him. Your faces were so close, the miniscule distance between you reduced further as Joel tilted his head, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. “Mmm, I really like you.” Joel’s lips pecked yours after every word.

“Come on already, love birds!” Tommy called, waving to you from his seat next to Maria.

“Nice to see you both again,” Maria greeted as you sat, her dark, smooth skin beaming with happiness.

Dinner was lovely, conversation flowing with a natural ease among the four of you. Maria and Tommy were equally enamored with each other and before long you and Joel were left chatting amongst yourselves.

“Want to get outta here?” Joel’s fingertips teased along the hem of your dress, stoking the fire that started building within you hours ago.

“Fuck yeah, I do.” Your chair nearly toppled backwards from the force with which you stood. Joel barely mumbled an excuse to his brother as you dragged him away, waving at Maria and Tommy over your shoulder.

A visceral need for him churned in your belly, skin buzzing as he dragged you around a few corners, backing you against a shadowed section of wall hidden from passersby and windows. Joel’s mouth was on you instantly, teeth nipping at your lips and scraping at your neck as he tasted your skin.

“Joel.” You drew his name out in a long, low moan as his fingers slid beneath the hem of your sundress and dipped past your panties. You were throbbing, wet and waiting for his expert touch. It had been too long since the last time you were together like this, the night at the hotel feeling like a distant memory.

“Sweetheart, all this for me?” His fingers left you briefly, bringing them up to his eyeline. Joel stared at the glaze on them, before slipping them into his mouth to suck at the irrefutable evidence of your arousal. “Fucking Christ, you taste good. Like nectar from a god damn peach.”

Joel made quick work of removing your panties, shoving the strip of fabric in his pocket as his lips met yours. A gasp left your lungs when his fingers sank knuckle deep inside you, his thumb teasing at your clit. The bundle of nerves already over sensitized, Joel made you come within minutes, his mouth swallowing your moans and whines.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Coming on my damn fingers already. So sexy.” Joel’s voice, rough with arousal, talked you through it, lips still touching yours as you breathed the same breaths. His free hand worked at his pants, setting his hardened cock free from its confines. “Need you, sweetheart. Now.”

“Oh, fuck.” Knees already weak from your orgasm, you hiked one leg up around his hip while he supported you, grasping your ass to hike you further up. Joel slipped inside, stretching your warm, wet walls with the sheer size of him. “Joel, love, you feel so good.”

Part of you couldn’t believe you were letting Joel fuck you against a wall in public. It was something you’d never done before – you were adventurous, sure, but not that adventurous. The other part of you didn’t give a shit. You were with Joel, the hard press of his body moving against yours bringing you both immense pleasure, and that was all that mattered.

Hands buried in those lush curls, you keened. “Faster, please.” Already on edge, you needed as much of Joel as you could get. “I’m so close.” His hips lurched in response, snapping faster, harder as his mouth latched onto the skin at the base where your shoulder met your neck. The sharp nip of his teeth followed by the gentle swipe of his tongue soothing the spot sent you over the edge. “Fuck, Joel!”

“Shhh,” he hushed you, fucking you through the height of your orgasm as your walls choked his cock. His thrusts became erratic, muscles flexing as he lost control. Your name flowed beautifully from his lip while his cum painted your walls. You stayed connected, chests heaving, and concrete wall cool against the heated skin of your back, as you both came down from the heights of ecstasy for several minutes.

“That was…”

“Yeah…”

There were no words.

The breeze shifted, carrying a slight chill in the night air, and you finally separated to right yourselves. Holding your hand out for your panties once Joel tucked himself away, you laughed when he just patted his pocket with a shake of his head. “Nah, I’m keepin’ ‘em.”

“Naughty,” you teased, grasping his hand as you walked.

The yacht was lit up when you made it back, the rest of the crew on the sundeck, dancing and carrying on. Laughter and buzzed conversations carried through the air as you and Joel quietly boarded without anyone seeing you. You knew you should join them on deck, but your heart ached to stay near Joel as long as you could. Joel seemed to feel the same.

Hand in his, you followed him through the interior to the bridge, brows shooting up when Joel merely nodded to Frank and dragged you around the corner to his quarters. You could hardly meet Frank’s knowing gaze as you passed.

“Joel, what –”

He silenced you with a finger against your lips, still puffy from the shared moments against the wall. “I’m not ready to let you go,” he murmured, shutting the door behind you. Large hands deftly removed your dress and bra, tossing them aside before slipping a fresh tee shirt over your head. “You’re staying here tonight, okay?”

Eyes widened comically, you merely nodded as Joel stripped down to his boxer briefs and pulled you into bed with him. You expected him to lead you somewhere quiet and private, but certainly not as private as his quarters. Settled beneath the soft sheet next to him, nothing in your life ever felt as right as laying there in Joel’s arms, his lips pressing tender kisses to your forehead. You only hoped he didn’t come to regret it in the morning.

The sky beyond the porthole was still dark, the first hints of dawn not yet peeking through when Joel drifted into wakefulness, your warm body tangled with his. Nose buried in your hair, he breathed in your scent, one hand caressing the soft, supple skin of your hips while the other cradled your head. He could not recall ever feeling such contentment, his heart fit to burst with emotions.

Joel’s hands continued wandering as he became lost in thought, imagining more moments like this with you. He could not wait to further explore things with you during the off season. You came in and set his life upside down in the best way possible when he least expected it. Falling in love did not come easy to Joel, but with you, it was effortless. He was falling whether he wanted to or not, it was inevitable and unstoppable.

You stirred beneath his touch when his hand dipped between your thighs, thick fingers teasing at your slit, already wet and ready for him. The sleepy moans you let out as he rubbed your clit hit his ears like a symphony. Joel continued fingering you until you were fully awake, clutching at him as he drew an orgasm from you.

“Joel,” you breathed his name into the dark room, mouth pressed to his neck, tasting the saltiness of his skin. “What’s gotten into you?” His hands were everywhere, mapping your body, committing it to memory.

“You.”

Mind still foggy with a mix of pleasure and sleep, you stared at him, perplexed. “What?”

“You. You’re what’s gotten into me,” he replied with a soft chuckle, pulling you impossibly closer. “You wriggled your way into my life, beneath my skin, into my heart. Now you’re in my bed. Of course, I’m going to take advantage of that.” You were looking at him with such softness in your eyes, he knew you felt the same.

Your hands wandered as he spoke, body still buzzing from the aftereffects of your orgasm, and finally wrapped around his rapidly hardening cock. “Yes, taking advantage of that sounds like a good plan.”

Joel laid back, letting you take control, your touch setting him ablaze. Shuffling down toward the foot of the bed, you took him in your mouth, and he whined at the wet warmth encasing him. He couldn’t take his eyes off you as you worked him, taking as much of him as you could until his tip hit the back of your throat, tongue working along the bottom of his shaft and swirling around the head. He wouldn’t last long like that, hands grasping your arms to gently pull you up.

“Why’d you stop me? I was enjoying myself,” you sassed, climbing up Joel’s broad form, thighs settling on either side of his hips.

“So was I, but I didn’t want to blow my load so quick. You’re too good at that, beautiful girl.” You were painfully gorgeous in the pre-dawn light, the glow of your skin ethereal in the moonlight. He kissed you, tongue licking into your mouth to tangle with yours as you wriggled your hips until the broad head of his cock was perfectly notched to slip inside you.

You sank down on him, moaning into the kiss as you began to ride him with a slow rocking of your hips. Unlike last night, where the pair of you worked each other hard and fast from the overwhelming need of the moment, every movement this morning was lazy and loving, a slow build of pleasure until you came with a gasp, Joel exploding inside you shortly after.

Words were on the tip of his tongue as you clung to each other afterwards, drowsy and sated, but Joel swallowed them. Too soon, he reminded himself.

Sleep pulled you both back under for a couple hours until all hell broke loose.

tbc

[luxudus]

Merfolk in the Trail of Cryptids (for @jennywolfgal)

woah hey i wasnt expecting to have participated in mermay bet here i am now. This is for @jennywolfgal and her project the Trail of Cryptids which i talked about awhile ago with her dragons. enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another group of species endemic to this alternate earth are the legendary Merfolk. Trident wielding Half-man half-fish people of the sea of the myths in our world. The merfolk here aren’t humans or hominids, nor are they even great apes. But instead they are a sister-clade of the family Cebidae. They are related to the Capuchin monkeys of central and south America.

They split off 10 million years ago with a similar evolutionary history to the cetaceans. Allowing an evolution of similar extremeness akin to the time between Pakicetus and Dorudon.

Icthypithicids contain a variety of aquatic monkey species. True merfolk belong in the genus Meralosapiens. With some species inhabiting the mediteranean, coast of east Europe, and their ancestral ground the Caribbean with a leaner build adorned in less fat.

To start off physically, They are like Cetaceans, kind of. their tail extended to an extreme degree to swim. Unlike cetaceans and like some ancient artwork of mermaids of our earth. Their legs still remain useful to swim and hold onto partners. Their arms freed up, remain as manipulators. They remain folded to reduce drag. Which lets them hold onto large objects and young merfolk when breastfeeding.

Uniquely they have a full head of hair like humans in spite of the drag created. This hair is maintained and kept healthy through grooming with the aid of two serrated claws on the lower half of their hand. Their teeth are tipped with canines and slowly become more trident shaped further back. Which they use to flush water out of their mouth. And Lastly their nostrils can completely close like a seal, and are at the very front of the face to ensure they breach the water first.

Ecologically, they are mostly carnivorous. They eat a wide array of fish, squid, and other small marine life. They take a particular liking to seaweeds and copepods, which they use their trident teeth to filter them out of the water. They take so much of a liking to copepods they will even follow their vertical migration.

They are quite social and live in family pods. Like mentioned earlier they will groom each other to strengthen social bonds. While most Icthypithicids are comparable in intelligence to their capuchin cousins. Meralaosapiens are fully sophont organisms that have the capacity for understanding and creating art and complex language. Technologically they are comparable to neolithic humans. Most populations use stone tools or other organisms slightly bred for more cooperation, living tools if you will. While other populations scavenge for more advanced tools left behind by humans.

Overall they are neutral to humans. Often keeping their distance or outright hiding from humans. Some more aggressive merfolk will attack or even hunt humans as a source of preyluring them in with their locks of hair. Which is believed to have arisen from a few merfolk cultures going through famine and growing desperate for food, eventually looking to their cousins beyond the water.

And of course there are others naturally curious of their terrestrial relatives and will frequently come up to human divers, even attempting to communicate with them. The future is uncertain, but hopefully the humanity of this earth will treat these people with respect and maybe even lend them a hand.

[artthatgivesmefeelings]

La Amistad, 1839 by unknown

This 1839 oil painting of La Amistad shows the ship off Long Island, New York, next to the USS Washington. The Portuguese were the first and the last to partake in the Transatlantic Slave Trade. The Spanish were also major transatlantic slavers and committed a genocide of the Native Cuban peoples when they colonized Cuba. The Spanish empire enslaved people of African origin and they often depended on others to obtain enslaved Africans and transport them across the Atlantic. Spanish colonies were major recipients of enslaved Africans, with around 22% of the Africans delivered to American shores ending up in the Spanish Empire. The story of the Amistad began in February 1839, when Portuguese slave hunters abducted hundreds of Africans from Mendeland, in present-day Sierra Leone, and transported them to Cuba, then a Spanish colony. Though the United States, Britain, Spain and other European powers had abolished the importation of enslaved peoples by that time, the transatlantic slave trade continued illegally, and Havana was an important trading hub. The Spanish plantation owners Pedro Montes and Jose Ruiz purchased 53 of the African captives as enslaved workers, including 49 adult males and four children, three of them girls. On June 28, Montes and Ruiz and the 53 Africans set sail from Havana on the Amistad (Spanish for “friendship”) for Puerto Principe (now Camagüey), where the two Spaniards owned plantations. Several days into the journey, one of the Africans—Sengbe Pieh, also known as Joseph Cinque—managed to unshackle himself and his fellow captives. Armed with knives, they seized control of the Amistad, killing its Spanish captain and the ship’s cook, who had taunted the captives by telling them they would be killed and eaten when they got to the plantation. In need of navigation, the Africans ordered Montes and Ruiz to turn the ship eastward, back to Africa. But the Spaniards secretly changed course at night, and instead the Amistad sailed through the Caribbean and up the eastern coast of the United States. On August 26, the U.S. brig Washington found the ship while it was anchored off the tip of Long Island to get provisions. The naval officers seized the Amistad and put the Africans back in chains, escorting them to Connecticut.

[shuinami]

Part 3: How to write an MLE-based London accent authentically

Part 1: Who, What (London Accents) | Part 2: When, Where, Why (Black Londoner Culture since Windrush)

As I conclude this little guide, I'd like mention that my ask box and DMs are always open if anyone has further questions or anything 🤎

In this section, I'll go over some advice, the grammar and vocabulary and provide some suggestions for references.

Section A: Basic Tips

When to use slang

The concentration of slang is key to differentiating characters as well as writing an accent authentically. As an MLE-based speaker who is not actually a roadman (meaning a gangster, though many people misuse the term to refer to anyone who uses MLE, especially if they are working class), like most of us, Hobie does not utterly kill it with slang that would likely not be understandable to the people he’s with. There are a lot of phrases and idioms/metaphors that seem self-explanatory once you know what they mean or that seem similar to Americanisms (e.g. roadman = street/hood nigga), but of course, as someone who doesn’t use the terms, hearing it in passing, it probably wouldn’t be understandable, despite the speaker thinking it is. 

Coming from a diverse place, often with immigrant parents who don’t even speak English as a first language, if fluently at all (not in the case of most black Caribbeans from former British colonies, but remember Asians and Africans are more plentiful here), trust me, we know what we sound like 😂! Most of us code-switch, as we learn standard English in school and, until more recently, where more people are 3rd gen+ immigrants as opposed to 2nd, we actually tend to pick up MLE slang from experiences outside the home as we grow up. At the same time, some people really don’t care at all and don’t change how they speak for anyone haha. I don’t recommend trying to write code-switching if you’re not extremely familiar with MLE because you’ll probably lose the flow and also, Hobie only eases up a little bit after his intro.

My point is though, that not every single sentence needs to have slang in it. Most should, but if you’re trying to be serious or sexy, for example, and you feel the need to tack on some slang just to convey Bri’ishness, even if it doesn’t really fit, don’t do it cause it’s no more authentic than just writing plain English in those scenarios.

When talking to people from his own dimension, however, slang it up if you’d like, because the expectation would be that a (working class or ethnic) Londoner would understand him. 

For humour, mocking and teasing, we love to use slang because a lot of it is funny, even to us. Like I said, we know what we sound like. Those are the moments when more obscure slang (such as Cockney rhyming slang) might come out for comedic effect.

It’s good to have some balance, so not every word needs to be substituted. If you couldn’t read it without a fucking huge glossary, you’ve probably done a bit too much.

Writing the Accent

It’s good in moderation. ‘Luv’, ‘ain’t’, replacing the last g with an apostrophe in -ing words - you all have those things down, it works, good job. 

HOWEVER, it is very clear that a lot of you have no clue what letters we do and don’t drop/change and in what words, as well as a lot of you going OT with removing the T’s from the middle of words. I know it kind of sounds like that to you but it reads like an over-exaggeration or mockery, particularly because most London accents, including Hobie’s, are much lighter in comparison to Brits from other areas, in which such omissions and alterations of letters would be somewhat appropriate but still, in moderation. I don’t recommend typing out the accent often, just sprinkle it around for a bit of flavour but don’t consistently write in that way because your writing loses legibility and it gets quite distracting.

Content

The stereotype of British people liking sarcasm is true for most and, in general, we like to have, what we call, ‘a bit of banter’. We’re a jokey people, even if those jokes can be a bit harsh or teasing. Confusingly, even if we are joking around, it doesn’t mean necessarily we’re being friendly, joking is just how we communicate (e.g. “Oh boy, humbling reality Spider-Man has arrived”, “What does that do?” “Apart from having a great name?”, “super humane and not creepy”, “this is a great look…”). I think most people have got this down really well, so keep it up guys 😎🤙

Another thing is cussing, swearing, profanity, whatever you wanna call it. We do it a lot for no reason, mainly spamming the word “fuck(ing)”. So have fun with that if you aren’t already.

We’ll get into it more in the terms of endearment section of Section B but, basically a lot of Londoners are typically not too mushy or affectionate, as is the stereotype for big city people and, additionally, British people in general aren’t the most direct in their words. Obviously, some people are but it’s not the culture if you’re trying to write proper ‘authentic’ haha. For a lot of us, saying sweet stuff can be quite laborious when sincere or cheesy or confrontational levels of direct really 😂 We ain’t the friendliest of types through our words so I'd recommend relying more on context for the sweet factor unless it's a stand-out moment.

Different parts of the UK, even within England itself, have different slang

Idk what else to say about this but yeah, there’s some phrases I’ve seen people use that have me scratching my head cause “nobody [from my area] says those words in that order” but I’m guessing it’s down to people incorporating slang which is more commonly heard up North because it’s all classed as British/U.K. slang when you look it up so, just be wary of that.

Section B: Grammar and Vocab (the thing you’ve been waiting for 😂)

I’ll link a document here so I don’t clog up your dash more than I already have. Feel free to bookmark it or anything, I’ll update it if needed. The contents are links to the relevant section so you can just click those if you’re not trying to read the whole thing.

I only included some highlights of the things that are easy enough to explain just by writing them out with their meanings but it’s by no means an extensive list. I’ve studied a few languages but I’m not a linguist so I just did my best.

If you want to go more heavy with the Cockney slang, I’ll leave it to someone who’s more familiar with it (or not… lol) to explain those terms and when to use them properly.

Section C: References

Of course, it’s all good and all that I’ve given you instructions but to make it sound natural, you’d need a point of reference. Here are some references of black North West Londoners from the early 80s, black East Londoners, black Londoners more generally and a Daniel Kaluuya interview so you can get a better feel of how we sound:

Clip from ‘No Problem’, the first Black British Sitcom

The accents within this one group of siblings is very varied and none of them use MLE, as per the time period. The two younger sisters have accents most similar to Hobie’s. The show follows a group of siblings of Jamaican descent living in a council house in North West London, first released in 1983.

Clips from ‘Chewing Gum’ by Michaela Coel [CW: they're awkwardly talking about sex in a lot of the clips + don't listen to Candice's boyfriend, Aaron, he's not from London lol]

The show takes place in Tower Hamlets, which is in East London and was first released in 2015. Tracy has a similar accent to Hobie and also uses a mix of more general/Cockney-influenced slang and MLE, so this one should both be a fun watch and be useful, you’ll also want to pay attention to Candice who has a more MLE lean to her speech.

Clips from the Foot Asylum crew most of them are MLE speakers, see some examples of our banter with friends lol

Clips from ‘Top Boy’

Another show that takes place in East London, this time in Hackney, which is an area known for being kind of rough in terms of gang activity. Almost all the characters speak exclusively MLE in this show. If you want to watch it, TW for violence and gang activity, death, etc. (18+). You can tell based on the ones I’ve chosen that Sully’s my favourite character lmao.

Fun fact, as you might hear the character, Dushane, reference, Sully lives on a canal boat for a while as a form of refuge. I know a bit about boat dwellers in London from a lecture at uni but if anyone wants me to do more research and do a post and explain the waterways and stuff, again, feel free to drop an ask and I’ll do it :)

Clip from ‘Love Island’ just pay attention to the black islanders, Tyrique and Whitney

I just finished watching this year's Love Island UK so I thought I’d throw the clip of Whitney, Lochan and Tyrique fighting in here lmao

& Daniel Kaluuya talking about Spiderpunk to bring us full circle✨

[hypnotiiize]

𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 

   𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘫𝘶𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴

𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐦 𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

   𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨... 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐉𝐮𝐝𝐞

𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: this is based on a literal Vybz Kartel song but it’s named after a Kelis song. and if you’re not caribbean or from nyc and know nothing abt Vybz … just know i put u on 🙏🏽 also this is gonna be the first instance of what i like to call After!Jude u gon get me soon enough 🤞🏽 + i wrote jude like a man FR so buckle in ❤️

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: cheating, items thrown, self h*rm ideation, smoking cigs around babies — it was a diff time ya just vibe w me but also DONT smoke around babies 

     Long ago, she’d grown accustomed to the wooden tobacco scent of cigarettes and the way that they seeped into the necks of her most durable shirts. In her earliest memories, she would be sat between her grandmother’s legs and the older woman would be braiding her hair for school. Her grandmother, a rather young woman considering her title, balanced a lanky cigarette between her lips as she added barrettes to the ends of her hair before moving on to the next braid. Now, the eye-stinging, lung-burning, herby smell of cigarette smoke reminded her of easier times– of the hairs at the nape of her neck being roughly brushed up into a plait, of her face being slathered in Vaseline, of her grandmother’s roughened voice chastising her grandchildren for running in her house. 

She smoked her very first cigarette at the age of sixteen. As she placed the cigarette between her lips, she thought of the woman she had lost four years prior whose heavy hands would spoon-feed her gently. Her grandmother. She thought of the woman’s comforting words and sloppy kisses and head pats and Sunday breakfasts for her and all of her cousins. As she’d puffed the cigarette for the very first time, she easily recalled braids and the smell of the hair grease and that one Godforsaken red brush with the roughest bristles she’d ever felt in her life. As she’d exhaled, she’d been slapped with the clearest image of her grandmother she’d seen since the woman was alive. In truth, the woman had begun to slip her mind as the clock ticked by, though as she smoked her very first cigarette she swore she’d felt the warmth of the woman’s aged hands on her back, rubbing soothingly. 

At eighteen, she kicked the habit. It was bad for aging and her fear of lung problems stemmed from the matriarch she’d loved so much. She cried for days at the absence of her grandmother’s presence, finding her lost in the haze of the sweet-smelling smoke. Still, she threw out her pack of Newports and grew used to the dull state of living without her first best friend.

The next time she would see her grandmother was when she was twenty, as the cigarette between her lips lit fiery red at its tip and the stingingly familiar scent– something akin to perfume to her– wafted around her head. Where others smelled cigarette smoke, instead she smelled comfort. She smelled hair grease and pancakes and her grandmother’s home, and when she pressed her eyes shut, she could even imagine herself waking up in the mornings in her grandmother’s arms– she could see the dust particles swaying around her, she could even feel the grainy fabric of her grandmother’s orange curtains between her two fingers. 

When her eyes opened after two long minutes of her childhood, her boyfriend of three years stood in the doorway with furrowed brows and a bothered look in his deep brown eyes. She had been crying long before then.

“You’re smoking again?” was the first thing Jude said. He shook his head, his lips downturned as if he’d tasted something disgusting. He had been the one that pushed for her to leave cigarettes alone. As an athlete, he had to be well averse to the effects of drugs on the human body– plus, he’d hated feeling as if he was kissing a truck driver.

She did not answer him. The truth was evident. She just closed two fingers around the Newport and flicked her thumb against the butt of it, watching wistfully as its ashes fell out of the window to the grass below. For a moment, she wished she could fall in the same way: no longer feeling the painful burn in her chest. Silent. Graceful. And then, stable. 

“Hello?” Jude spoke once more, sounding offended by her brush-off. “You don’t hear me or something?” 

She placed the cigarette between her lips and squinted her eyes at the passing cars as she inhaled. 

“Hello,” Jude said again, lower this time as he wrapped his hand around her wrist and turned her to him. When she tugged her arm from him, his eyebrows rose to his hairline. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked, nose scrunched at the cloud of smoke she expelled from her lips. “Did I do something wrong? Why aren’t you speaking?”

There was a split second– a split, split second– where she pondered laughing in his face, finding irony in the question she, too, had been asking herself since her eyes had cracked open. 

Did I do something wrong? 

When had she stopped being enough? When had Jude stopped fawning over the sway of her hips? When had he grown tired of the sweetness of her skin on his tongue? When had he decided that her love was expendable? 

Why hadn’t he told her?

Having had the whole day to muse, their house still and void of the feelings that had once lived there with the two, she’d decided that he had stopped loving her wildly sometime a year ago. She’d sipped wine and recalled the time she had attempted to type his password into his phone and found herself locked out. She had only wanted to go to his pictures and upon her eyebrows knitting together in the middle of her forehead, Jude wrapped his arms around her and skillfully distracted her with kisses to her chest. The next time she’d gone to open his phone his password had been changed back, and she questioned, briefly, if it had even happened. She’d known it had. 

That second time a year ago, when she’d grabbed his phone, she’d found a picture of herself set as his lock screen. It was something he’d snapped on one of their first dates, back when he would buy her bouquets of flowers and invite her with him everywhere he went, unwilling to part from her. She recalled wanting to be flattered at the gesture, wanting to see the change of photos as a declaration of his love. She knew it wasn’t. Eventually, when her uneasiness had become obvious to Jude, he’d even made a show of allowing her face to unlock his phone, “for emergency purposes,” he’d said, though she knew he meant to shut her up. She felt shame, now, at the fact that that had worked, then. 

Even if her original estimation had been off, she'd thought that the constant pinging of his cell phone that began four weeks ago was the definite answer to her question. By then, Jude no longer smiled at her quirks the way he once did– instead, there was only the irked expression on his face as she tripped or stumbled over her words. When he kissed her, it was offhandedly, like one would an aunt they saw at every family get-together. He would be too busy to go to restaurants with her, though somehow free enough to party with his teammates and friends every night.

Such had been the case the night before when Jude pressed a chaste kiss to the right of her lips and told her he would be going out with his friends. He had stopped asking her if she wanted to accompany him long before then; she had even been glad for it, she did not think she could sit through another one of his eye rolls when she told him that she couldn’t, as she had important schoolwork to finish. In more recent times, when she had been on top of her coursework, she had wanted to party with him but could not bring herself to beg for the attention of the man she lived with. 

Thus, each time, she would be left to observe remnants of his night on the stories of his friends. There were four in total, not including Jude. Jamal, who Jude had played football with since they were children. Whitney, who Jude had gone to school with. Daniel, who Whitney had grown up with. And Amelia, who had started off as a friend that Jude allowed her to invite in the beginning so that she would not feel uncomfortable. Now, they were their own thing– Daniel, Whitney, Jamal, Jude, and Amelia were all one big, partying friend group who truly were not compatible at all. 

And so, despite the bitter prickle somewhere in her chest from being left at home, she could not help but be thankful that she would not have to fake laugh with people she was not truly comfortable with. Instead, she watched their stories: Daniel would post himself and Jude with drinks in their hands. Whitney would post pictures of all of them standing shoulder to shoulder, grinning at the camera. Jamal would not post at all. Amelia, the girl she’d grown up with, would post a video of herself and Whitney singing to the blaring music. 

Last night, just before he left, Jude’s cell phone vibrated and lit up on the nightstand. She had been standing over a foot away reaching for the pajama shirt she’d laid out on the quilt of their bed. She instinctively glanced at his phone when she straightened, mouth falling open as it promptly unlocked itself upon registering her face. She’d read the message there before she could stop herself, her heart dropping to her stomach and heating up the acid there tenfold. 

She’d waited for the slam of the front door before FaceTiming the only one in Jude’s friend group that she’d found herself fond of after all those years. 

Jamal picked up on the first ring. 

“You going out tonight?” she’d asked quickly, hoping for him to say yes despite the fact that he was in his pajamas.

Jamal had snorted. “No. Why?” 

“Nothing, nothing. I just– I just wanted to know if you could keep an eye on something for me,” she’d struggled to say, still shaken by the conclusion she’d leaped to upon seeing the text on Jude’s lock screen. 

“Keep an eye on something for you?” Jamal had repeated after her confusedly. “Are you okay?” When she didn’t answer after a long minute of calculating her next step, he’d said warningly, “Hey, I’m watching American Horror Story and I’m kind of spooked right now, so please don’t be so cryptic.”

Upon her recollection of the events, Jamal had assured her that she was caught up in her own anxieties. Jude, for everything he was, was not as low down as she suspected him to be– and if he was, Jamal would set him straight immediately. Still, as the lines in her forehead deepened, Jamal promised he would remain attentive to every interaction he would witness thereafter. When he hung up after five long minutes of prying about her mental state, she was left with the deafening silence of their bedroom and the frigid vacancy of the left side of their bed.

Now, she watched Jude’s broad shoulders rise and fall with his every breath and wondered if he had ever felt as if someone were pressing talons into his lungs, piercing the organ and suffocating him from the inside out– this, of course, being exactly what she had been feeling since she’d woken up gripping the last remnant of him, his pillow, to her body. 

“Jude,” she began slowly, her voice raspy from all the screaming she’d done hours ago, having had no clue when he would find his way home. His eyebrows raised, a sign of his attention. She tilted her head and attempted to keep her voice leveled, eyes filled with sorrow as she asked the question she had long since known the answer to. 

“You fucked her?” 

Jude looked as if he’d had whiplash. His eyes were wide, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “Huh?” 

“You fucked her, Jude?” she asked again, voice filled to the brim with desperation. 

“No,” he said quickly, and his answer twisted the knife his absence had lodged into her abdomen long ago.

“How do you know who I’m talking about, then?” she whispered these words, and Jude shook his head. She shook hers, too. “If you don’t know who I’m talking about, why are you saying ‘no,’ already?” Her voice was gentle. 

Jude swallowed once more. “No, I’m just saying, like– no, I didn’t sleep with anyone. I wouldn’t sleep with anyone ever, baby, you know that. I meant, like, no-no not no-no,” he rushed, his words as disorganized as the room they stood in. 

“They saw you, Jude,” she breathed. 

“Who?” he asked. 

“Kiara and Destiny, Jude,” she told him of her best friends, who had gone out of their way to go to the same club as him the night before.

At this, Jude’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, having never found himself fully in her best friends’ good graces. He went to grab her hand. His fingers merely managed to swipe against hers before she snatched them away. “Baby,” he said at that, frowning deeply, “They’re lying. You know they don’t like me.”

So, Jude hadn’t seen it: the headlines and pictures and tweets. She could tell from the peaceful look in his eyes despite the prominent dark circles there from the sleep he had apparently gone without. As she stared at the man she’d grown up with, the man she’d sworn would see her through both sickness and health, she could only feel the incessant need to tighten her hands around her neck and pierce the skin there, longing for the fruitfulness of physical pain rather than the turmoil of her thoughts. She didn’t. Instead, she spoke past the burn in her throat.

“They’re not lying,” was all she could say, incapable of bringing up the articles that had hurt her to scour through. 

“Yeah? They’re not lying? Then tell them to come here and say that in front of me, since you swear they’re not lying,” he called her bluff. It was only then, as she watched him adamantly refuse the facts she’d presented to him, that she realized how many other times he must have lied to her mid-argument. Only this time, she’d had enough proof to make her feel comfortable in simply blinking at him as he denied everything, not having to concern herself with whether or not she believed him. 

In his haste to prove himself, he went on, saying, “Go ahead. Call ‘em, tell them to come,” knowing she wouldn’t. And in the past this may have worked– in the past, she may have felt silly for even suggesting such a thing.

In the present, she had one last suitcase to pack. 

“You fucked her, Jude,” she exhaled simply, tiredly. She took one last, long drag from her cigarette before tapping it out on the windowsill and maneuvering around the man before her. Her suitcase lay sprawled open on the bed that would soon become solely his, the sheets too tainted for her to even think of bringing with her despite her love for them.

“What are you doing?” Jude asked as she opened the closet and removed her sweaters from the white hangers there. “What are you doing?” he asked once more as she began to fold them and place them in her suitcase. When she laid a sweatshirt down, Jude’s large hand grabbed it and flung it onto her pillow. “Baby, I didn’t fuck her,” he insisted fervently.

“How do you know who I’m talking about, Jude? If you didn’t fuck anyone,” she lilted, her eyes low as she folded another sweatshirt. When she placed that one in the suitcase, Jude threw that one out, too. 

“I mean, I didn’t fuck anyone, baby!” he revised.

She folded her third sweatshirt. “You fucked her.”

He threw out the third sweatshirt. “Who? Who did I fuck, then?! Since you swear you know so much!” he shouted, a crease between his eyebrows as he pressed them together.

“Amelia.”

There was a beat in which no one spoke, and she wished, for a moment, that he had denied that name as aggressively as he’d been doing everything else just a minute before. Instead, when she glanced at him, she only found him with his lips sucked into his mouth as his eyes shut. His right hand had even constricted into a fist around her favorite hoodie. When he caught himself, he flung it at his own pillow.

“I didn’t fuck her,” he swore, quieter this time.

“You fucked her, Jude.”

“Oh my fucking God,” he hissed and then rolled his neck. The next he spoke, he was bellowing with his hands pressed together, “I didn’t! Fuck her!” 

“Jude! You fucked her!” she spat just as suddenly as he, though ten times louder for the sake of it, finding that her chest had grown hot from his audacity to raise his voice at her.  

“I said I didn’t fuck her! Why the fuck won’t you just listen to m– stop putting shit in this stupid suitcase!” He lifted the suitcase easily and tossed it onto the floor, having found himself fed up with the umpteenth sweater she’d neatly folded despite the bubbling tensions. 

“Destiny and Kiara saw you, Jude. They saw you,” she sighed, opting to continue to fold the rest of her belongings and lay them on the pristine white quilt the two had once slept on. 

“Yeah, well, your friends talk too fucking much, anyway,” was his curt reply. He caught himself when her right eye twitched and her head began to slowly raise to squint at him. He hastily added, “And they’re lying, too.”

She did not dignify him with a response. There was only the quiet sigh that she pressed from her nostrils and the rustling of the clothes in her hands. 

Jude’s eyes rolled as she placed another pleated sweater on their comforter. He grabbed that one quickly, too, throwing it onto the headboard before bounding the bed toward her. He stood four inches from her, yet she did not bat an eye– her gaze remained downcast, focused on the fabrics she could feel between her fingers. Jude reached for her hand. “Baby,” he drawled, “I never had sex with Amelia, baby. I would never do that to you. Baby? You hear me?” His words fell on deaf ears. 

She shifted away from him and placed her sweatshirt on their bed. 

This time, Jude’s hand caught hers. He began to toy with her fingers the way he used to. His voice was soft, tentative as if the revelation had hurt him in the same way it had hurt her. “Call Jamal,” he proposed earnestly. “He was there with us last night, he can tell you.” 

She felt as if she were suffocating in the room they’d decorated together all those months ago, as now, the man she loved looked her directly in her eyes and fabricated a story. She wondered, momentarily, why her boyfriend was so confident in his ability to deceive her. How many times had he done it before? How many times had she been made the fool? How long had he slipped lies into an everyday conversation for her to consume, content with poisoning her from the inside out?

She blinked, pulling her hand from his. “Oh. Jamal was with you last night?” she asked deliberately. 

Jude nodded. “Yes. We all went out, baby. You know that.”

“That’s so funny,” she hummed, eyeing the way her hands began to tremble. She could hear her voice quivering. She could feel her chest shaking. She faced Jude, then, struggling to square her shoulders before the man who towered over her. “That’s so funny,” she repeated, louder this time. She let her words wash over him for three seconds before continuing. “‘Cause Jamal was actually the one that called me and told me that Amelia called him and told him that you and her had fucked last night! So.”

Jude sucked his lips into his mouth at this. 

She chuckled at the turn of events. “Not to mention, when I FaceTimed Jamal last night he was in his pajamas getting ready for bed.” At Jude’s measured silence, she shook her head, a smile splitting on her face. “Look at you, just standing there looking stupid. Thank God for iPhones. You would’ve had me looking real dumb,” she spit this before snatching more hangers from the closet. She stepped around Jude, hurling her clothes into her opened suitcase, hangers be damned.

Jude swiveled in his spot, and when he spoke, his voice was high-pitched. “Baby! I wouldn’t lie to you! I’m not lying to you!” he lied.

She scoffed, finding that her fingers were itching for a cigarette to sit between them, to soothe the nerves he’d shot up before he even stepped foot in what was once their home. After a while, she could only sigh. 

“I’m leaving, Jude,” she stated, her conclusion as simple as her words. “You can have this whole house to yourself and Amelia, but I gotta go.”

“Baby,” he began, tone dipped in syrup as he flocked to her side. He placed his hand on her cheek and lifted her face. Her eyes met his, void of their usual warmth. “Hey, listen. I love you, okay? Don’t leave. Please don’t leave.”

“Get off of me.” She lifted her chin from his palm. 

“Baby, she’s lying,” he declared, his fingers gripping at his hair. “I don’t know why she told Jamal that! She’s fucking lying, baby, you can’t believe her!”

She squinted at him severely, slowly asking, “Why would she lie about that, Jude?”

“I don’t know! Maybe she just likes to lie!” he suggested, an octave away from whining. 

Her fingernails dug into the flesh of her palms and for a split second, she contemplated arson. She harkened back to the conversations she would hear her cousins having as they spoke of their boyfriends, thinking of how abysmal their excuses were when they would get caught in lies. She remembered just how content she had felt, confident of both Jude and the amount of respect Jude had for her– if he would ever lie, he would care enough to make the lie excellent and not be so bad at thinking on his toes for the sake of their relationship. Color her shocked at his less-than-logical, stuttered responses. He had not even thought of her and their courtship enough to lie effectively, and therefore, she did not have any more words for him. 

She continued to pack.

Jude placed his head in his hands and groaned loudly, scrubbing a palm down his face. “I hate that girl, bro,” he snarled, shaking his head into his wrists. He straightened and pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers, inhaling for four long seconds and exhaling for just as long. When he gathered himself, he found her at the head of their bed, tossing the sweatshirts he’d strewn there into her opened luggage. He gulped at the dull look in her pretty eyes. 

“Baby,” he started gently, “She’s lying. I’m telling you, she’s lying. She’s lying.”

She stood on her toes and flicked her wrist as she tossed her sweater, thinking of yelling, “Kobe!” in the midst of her attempt to drown out Jude’s words.

“She’s lying. I can prove to you she’s lying. I can prove it,” Jude persisted. He patted his hands against his thighs before pulling out his car keys. He gripped them tight in his palm as he said, “Okay, baby. You stay here, I’m gonna go see her again to sort all this out–”

“Again?” 

Jude choked on air. “Huh?”

“Again? You said, ‘again’?” she echoed, her eyebrows raised as she gawked at his slip-up. 

 His jaw slackened. “Huh?”

“You said you’re gonna go see her ‘again’?” she repeated his words, smiling despite the way her chest had caught fire as she slow-walked to the middle of the room. “When was the first time you saw her, Jude? Since ‘she’s lying.’ Why d’you gotta go see her ‘again’? Hm?”

He blinked dazedly, looking first to his left and then to his right. “Huh?”

“What, you don’t hear me?!” she laughed loudly. “You said you gotta see her ‘again.’ So you saw her already, right?!”

“Huh? What?” was all he could say. 

“Yeah, huh,” she mocked, bending at her waist and grabbing the silver zipper on her luggage. She could see Jude standing awkwardly in its reflection, his hands raised slightly in the air as he stumbled to his next response. She rolled her eyes as she closed her bag. She hoisted her suitcase onto its wheels while she stood, rolling past him wordlessly to the front of the house. She opened the closet there, tugging out the suitcases she had placed there hours ago in an effort to gather all of her possessions in one place without Jude’s interference– though she had not known then that he would even be home that early. Had she known, she would have bid the house farewell with some loud music and a slice of cake rather than the piercing screams the four walls had to sit through earlier. 

She longed to say goodbye to each nook and cranny that she had seen every day for the past year. She longed to brush her hands against the smooth marble island wistfully, longed to recall the dishes she and Jude had made there– though now, she knows, those memories of the two of them moving around each other easily as they cooked would be forever marred. She longed to rub her fingers along the sofa they’d picked out together, longed to rest her head on its armrest once more before departing. She longed to feel at home in their home. 

Jude grabbed her wrist and twisted her to him, finding that the view of her bags by the front door had made his heart palpitate in a nauseating way. “So you’re just gonna leave based on what someone else said?” he spat. “You’re not even giving me a chance to, like, defend myself– you’re just leaving! You’re letting everyone lie to you! So, you don’t care about me? Is that it?” His gaze poured into hers as his voice softened. “You’re just gonna let everyone lie to you and you’re gonna believe them over me?”

She felt as if she was going to be sick. “No one’s lying to me, Jude,” she said, removing her arm from his.

He grabbed her again, his fingers gentle around her flesh in spite of the gravel in his tone. 

She could have even pulled away once more if she wanted to. She didn’t. 

“So tell me how you know, then,” he rasped, the scent of him overtaking her senses. “Tell me how you know no one’s lying. Tell me why you’re so quick to believe everyone but your boyfriend of three years. Tell me,” demanded Jude. 

There was a tug at the back of her throat. She had to raise her gaze to the ceiling to stop the sting in her eyes. Not for the first time, she wished for a cigarette. 

“She texted you last night, Jude,” she revealed.

His face fell despite the fact that he had already been frowning, his sharp gaze growing blunt. “You went through my phone?” 

“No, I didn’t go through your fucking phone, Jude,” she snapped, yanking her arm from his at this. A small fraction of her found humor in how panicked he looked: his eyes wide, his chest heaving, his rich brown skin slightly paled in pallor. However, the majority of her wanted to bust the windows out of his car, and thus the humor would remain lost on her at that moment. She scoffed. “The stupid shit lit up last night when you were getting ready and I saw her fucking text you.”

He shook his head disbelievingly. “You went through my phone.”

“I didn’t go through your fucking phone!” she said and her labored breath caught in the next moment, a thought occurring to her. “Should I have gone through your phone?!” she asked, peering at him through narrowed eyes, daring him to slip up once more.

“That’s not important,” he dismissed with a casual wave of his hand. Her chest felt as if it were molten lava. “What’d the text say, then? ‘Cause I didn’t see a text, so I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he insisted, unbeknownst to the fact that she had observed quietly in the corner of their bedroom as his lips had tugged into a smirk at the sight of Amelia’s text. 

She thought once more of pressing her nails into her throat, the weight of his lies threatening the strength of her resolve. Her shoulders shuddered as she recalled the words that had appeared below the picture of her on his lock screen. You gonna see me again tomorrow? Or today? When she recited this to Jude, he gulped.

“Baby, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You gotta believe me,” he begged. “I’m lost! Just like you are!”

“Sure you are,” she mumbled weakly, grabbing her collection of coats from the closet beside the front door. She laid them over her arm as Jude latched onto the handle of her suitcase and pulled it a yard away from her. 

He placed himself in front of the suitcase, next, barring her from leaving both the house and his life. “I didn’t have sex with her!” he swore desperately.

“Jude!” She was shouting now. “Stop fucking lying to me! Stop lying! You look stupid, stop lying! You fucked her! Just shut up already!” 

“But you’re not even letting me defend myself!” he boomed, and she felt as if his voice had shaken the walls. “No matter what I say, you won’t believe me!”

“Because you’re fucking lying!” she screeched, her hands balled into fists. 

He groaned, his hands on his head once more as he did a three-sixty. “Oh my fucking God, you keep saying that shit!” He leaned forward, his palms facing the sky as he asked, “Who the fuck is saying I’m fucking lying?! ‘Cause they’re the ones that are lying!”

“Destiny and Kiara, Jude! Destiny and Kiara! My best friends saw you!” Then, just before he could say that her friends had an elaborate ploy to get him out of her life, she soldiered on, “And Jamal told me! Jamal told me, Jude! Amelia told Jamal, and he told me! Not to mention the people on Twitter that are tagging me in shit! So, you’re done, Jude! You’re caught! I’m leaving, move on!” 

“You’re not going anywhere because I’m not lying!” he hollered his claim.

“Oh yeah?” she challenged.

He nodded cockily. “Yeah.”

“You’re not lying?”

Again, he nodded. “I’m not lying.”

“Mm,” she hummed, nodding once before she pressed the plushy pad of her index finger to the middle of her lips. 

She wondered, briefly, how she would go about her next move. Would she scream, in hopes that her voice would penetrate his skin and cause him the pain she felt? Would she cry, in hopes that her sobs would awaken something within him and he would come to, shaken at the sound of her in pain? Would she throw the nearest object at his temple? 

In the end, she merely tilted her head at him at a forty-five-degree angle and asked knowingly, “Then what’s that hickey on your neck, Jude?” 

In the distance, a pin dropped.

She had, admittedly, caught the maroon-colored bruise just above his collarbone the moment the cigarette smoke had dissipated from the air between them– just after she’d watched the ashes connect themselves to the dew on the vibrant grass. She had been too caught up in the fact that it had been exactly where Jude’s spot was to speak on it, too caught up in the fact that whoever he had been with– and she knew who he had been with, she had known her before she had become a woman– had known him well enough to know his body. She had imagined Amelia sucking at the skin above his collarbone familiarly in the same way that she had once done, back when the sight of Jude did not make her want to rip each strand of hair from her head one by one.  

Jude leaned his ear forward, feigning as if he had not heard. “Huh?” 

“Yeah, huh. I said, what’s that hickey on your neck?” she reiterated, surprisingly jovial for such a situation. 

Jude’s eyebrows knit in the middle of his forehead. “What hickey on my neck?”

She just smiled. “That hickey on your neck,” she said, pointing to the skin on full display. He had not even had the respect to dab some concealer over it or fix his collar. She chuckled. 

Jude turned to the mirror beside the front door, craning his neck to see the stretch of skin she was referring to. Russet eyes widened considerably at the sight of the reddened mark, his fingers pressing against it for two long seconds before he gathered himself. 

“Oh, that?” he began, smacking his lips together. “That’s not a hickey!”

“That’s not?” she played along.

He smacked his lips together again. “No.”

She tilted her head further, crossing one hand over the other as she squinted at him judgmentally, questioning just how far he would spin the web of lies he rested within. “What is it, then, Jude?” she asked.

His eyes widened and he shrugged as if the answer were glaringly obvious. 

“A mosquito bite!”

There was a pregnant pause as she processed his excuse, her jaw hanging slightly ajar while she nodded slowly, realizing only then just how absolutely dumb the man before her was. She had always overlooked it, citing his lack of logic on something that he did solely to make her laugh. Instead, the truth of Jude was less charming than she had chopped it up to be: where she envisioned a well-calculated, suave footballer instead lived a boy still stuck in his teen years, ditzy in treacherous ways. 

Reality had punched her smack dab in her mouth, splitting her lip open upon contact. Now, she could taste the iron there, pooling around her teeth with each of Jude’s lies. 

Still, against her better judgment, she chuckled. “Jude…” 

“What? It’s a mosquito bite!” he maintained.

“Yeah?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. He nodded. “Mm. So, where were you that a mosquito bit you last night, Jude? Where were you in the winter that you got a mosquito bite? And quickly.”

Jude replied, “Babe, you know the club is by water.”

“Oh, it’s the club’s fault now. Which club?” she quizzed.

“Uh, Lavender Lounge.”

“Hm.” She shook her head, her lips twisted up. She made a show of eyeing the ceiling skeptically, tapping her chin for good measure. “That’s definitely not where Destiny and Kiara saw you, but okay.”

Jude squeezed his eyes shut at that. She simpered, well aware that he had forgotten that piece of information having been too caught up in sustaining everything else he had said. 

“No, baby, I meant the Realm,” he corrected eventually.

Her smile grew, dazzling now. “Oh, the Realm. You mean the club that’s right by Amelia’s house? That one? That Realm?”

Jude appeared perturbed. “No, I meant–”

“‘Cause I’m thinking it’s that Realm,” she laughed humorlessly. The next time she spoke, her chuckles had progressed into full-blown giggles, her shoulders shaking despite the salty liquid collecting at her waterline. “‘Cause, y’know, I’m thinking you took your cheating ass to that Realm and met up with Amelia so you guys could fuck. That’s what I’m thinking, but I’m really just spit-balling here.”

“Baby, calm down,” was how he chose to respond. 

Her reaction was instantaneous: she flinched, his words delivering a swift deck to her mouth in the same way reality had. Her brain vibrated against her skull at the impact of them. The pool of blood there only developed, dribbling from between her lips and falling onto the necklace he had bought her for their first anniversary. 

She could only see red.  

“Calm down?” she parroted, speaking through clenched teeth. “Calm. Down?! You cheat on me and you’re gonna tell me to ‘calm down’? Are you out of your fucking mind?!” she exploded, rolling up one of the coats in her arms and beaming it straight at his head. It smacked against his temple before thudding to the ground, though by then she had already thrown the next one. Jude was ducking as she shrieked, “And then you’re gonna cheat with Amelia of all people? Are you fucking crazy?!”

“No, baby, she’s lying!” he said as another puffer pelted him. He never imagined that such a fluffy jacket could cause such a sting. 

“Amelia of all fucking people?!” she screamed, seizing her house slipper from her foot before flinging it at him with her dominant arm, too upset to risk the fifty-fifty chance of missing him. It smacked him right against the supposed mosquito bite above his collarbone and he let out a short yelp. “Of all fucking people! Fucking Amelia! You must’ve lost your mind!” 

“Wait, wait, wait, okay, okay, okay,” Jude rushed, hands outstretched in front of him in an attempt to block the next item she would hurl. She stood barefoot in their foyer, her second slipper waiting patiently in her palm to be launched. Her eyes widened as she raised the slipper, a threat that he quickly took heed of. He caught his breath quickly, his next words cautious. “Okay. Baby. Listen. I-I think I have a solution, okay?” he said. 

“Shut up!” The house shoe thwacked against the left side of his chest.

“Geez! Stop throwing slippers at me!” 

“You’d rather a Timberland?!”

“Baby! Please! Just listen to me!” he beseeched, and though she felt as if she would sob from the searing pain his infidelity had forced into their home, she thought of the boy she fell in love with and agreed. Jude thanked her graciously. “I think I have a solution. Okay? Just hear me out, please. Please?” He waited for her shoulders to wilt and her hands to unfurl. 

Jude’s lips parted and her heart cracked. She could not lie to herself any longer: she desperately wished that the next words that fell from his plump lips would be ones that she could believe in. She wanted, more than anything, to fall into his arms and break against his chest, to cry into his biceps and apologize profusely for jumping to incorrect conclusions, despite the fact that she had seen the pictures and videos from the club. Despite the fact that she had heard the answers fall from Jamal’s mouth when he frantically called out of her sleep. His actions were set in stone. Her fate would rely on the next thing he said. 

“I’ll let you get back at me one good time to get it out of your system and then we can all just forget this happened,” Jude posed. 

And with this, she swore, something shattered in her chest. She felt the shards of it succumb to gravity and stab at the insides of her feet, the pain stinging and sore and yet still a reminder that she was still alive– that she was still real, not yet ashes collecting on the grass. 

He smiled weakly at her, attempting to gauge her reaction despite the hollow expression in her eyes. “Okay? So that you can’t be angry. Not that I’m saying I cheated or anything,” he threw in swiftly, catching his implied admission. “But since you think I did, I’ll let you cheat, too, so that it’s even! It’s like an eye for an eye, right? Even though I didn’t cheat. So, you cheat back–” (he had not realized he’d said ‘back.’ She was left to note this mentally, too drained to point it out) “–and then just,” he shrugged simply, “Don’t leave.”

“Jude, please get away from me,” was all she could say, unsteady on her feet as if she’d been out drinking the night before instead of him. She almost wished she had. Maybe, then, he would be the one praying for something, anything, to end his suffering– to wake him up and assure him that it was all a bad dream. Maybe he would feel the burn in his chest and the shake in his hands and the stabs in his feet. Maybe he would handle it better than her. Maybe, if the roles were reversed, he would not wish to die. 

“Baby?” he tried. 

“Give me my shit, Jude,” she ordered, extending her hand for the suitcase. 

This time, Jude did not fight her. He gnawed on the inside of his cheek as he rolled the luggage over to her, gaze falling in shame at the way her fingers deftly avoided brushing against his. Just as his mouth fell open, his one last shot at getting her to stay with him– a long shot, he knew, but still a shot after all– seven rhythmic knocks hit the front door and he knew his time was up. Her two best friends streamed in, silent as they gathered her things and carried them to the car they’d parked out front. 

He waited until the second to last bag was guided outside before clearing his throat, speaking past the lump that had cultivated there. “Where are you gonna go?” he asked, more for his sake than hers.

“That’s none of your business,” she replied icily. 

“But,” his voice quivered, “Baby, I love you.”

“Jude, I don’t care.”

The cool breeze of the afternoon did little to nothing to tame the burning sensation burrowing beneath her brown skin, and just before she reached her best friend’s car, she bent forward and threw her long braids into a high bun, finding that the feel of it all around her was only proving to suffocate her more. She blew a kanekalon end from her vision, taking a moment to study the houses across the street. Husbands and wives, mothers and fathers, grandmothers and grandfathers– and now, in the house that was once theirs, just Jude. 

He called her name and her head whipped to the doorway. Her name on his tongue had always felt foreign. Now, she welcomed it. She had grown sick of the constant babys, nauseous at the insincerity of his tone and the slow way he would push the name past his lips.

“Are you serious about this?” he asked after following her onto the lawn, getting just close enough so that she could see the water in his reddened brown gaze. He sniffled. “Are you really going to leave me? Even though I told you I didn’t do it? A-And even if I did do it, would you really leave me that quickly?” He shook his head. A tear fell to his full lips. “You must’ve never loved me if you can leave this fast. Have you just always hated me? Huh? Do you hate me? Just tell me, please, I can take it.”

This was his latest tactic, she knew: crying and accusing her of hating him so that she could wrap her arms around his neck and fawn over him. She could only nod politely at the sight of his tears, so brand new and yet not nearly adding up to the amount she had shed ever since their home had reverted to the listing they’d found it under. 

She just patted his arm. “Keep your head up, man.”

He did not speak as she slinked into the passenger seat. He did not speak as the engine revved. He did not speak as the car took off. There was only his soulless stare as she left his life– and this was when she began to second-guess herself, unable to fathom the man she thought she would marry not having any parting words for her. At the wobble of her bottom lips, her best friend turned up the City Girls song in an effort to cheer her up. As JT rapped about needing a man who would swipe his visas, she placed a cigarette between her lips, sniffling past the sting at the back of her throat and mentally saying one final goodbye to the man she loved. She laughed loudly at her friends’ complaints about the smell, rolling the window all the way down and deciding to savor what she hoped would be the final nicotine pull of her life. 

The cigarette smoke trailed out of the passenger seat window, and she watched as the life that she knew grew minuscule in the side-view mirror there. She tasted wooden herbs and felt the burn at the back of her throat, drowning the sting of tears there– and then she felt her grandmother’s hand on her back, soothing her in a way that only the woman could. 

She leaned her head back and the next drag was longer. When she opened her eyes, there was only the familiar smoke around her head, and then the baby-blue sky.

[arthurdrakoni]

Flag of the Aztec Empire

This is the flag of the Aztec Empire. It comes from a world where the Aztecs defeated Cortez and his troops. Smallpox still ravaged the Aztecs, but due to the more limited exposed they were able to recover by the time the Spanish sent additional expeditions. It soon become obvious that the empire would need to reform itself if it was going to survive the European colonization of the Americas.   The debate around these reforms leads to social upheavals and rebellions. The empire ultimately survived, but with a Tlaxcalan ruling dynasty. The Tlaxcalans, always one of the more reform minded peoples of the empire, set about instituting serious reforms.   The first reform was the structure of the empire. The provinces became much more centralized in their organization. The emperor still ruled over all, but each province sent a group of delegates to represent the needs of the province in a special council in Tenochtitlan. The priests and priestesses also began to slowly phase-out human sacrifice from the traditional religion of the Aztecs. Trade relations were established with multiple European nations both to gain access to European technology and to play the various powers off of each other.   For the next few centuries the Aztecs would be prosperous and would have good relations with their neighbors. They provided troops to the Federated Provinces of Cabotia during their rebellion against the British Empire. To this day the two nations remain close allies to this day. The Aztecs also maintained good relations with the Incan Empire, which also managed to avoid European conquest. The Aztecs went on to expand their territory to stretch from the American Southwest to the tip of Panama, and even managed to nab a few islands of the Caribbean.   The next major wave of reforms occurred during the 19h century. The Aztecs, much like Japan during the Meiji Restoration, underwent a Westernization process. Though from the Aztecs points of view the term would more accurately be Easternization. Industrialization began to take off, and Western clothing and customs were slowly introduced to improve relations with the great powers of Europe. However, the Aztecs did not completely turn their backs on their traditional culture. Aztec clothing still remains very colorful and incorporates many traditional designs, and nose rings are still somewhat popular for men and women. More traditional clothing is usually reserved for special ceremonies and occasions, such as religious festivals and the emperor's birthday.   The Aztecs also still worship their old gods, and many temples and shrines can be found throughout the empire. On the other hand, secularism is on the rise, and many people only perform the old rituals out of habit and tradition. What was once an empire imfamous for its bloodlust is today known as a thriving center of technology and innovation.  The flag features the colors red and green, which are traditional Aztec colors. The maze pattern is a common feature in Aztec artwork. The red snake is the feathered serpent god Quetzalcoatl, god of the winds and one of the most important gods in the Aztec pantheon.

Link to the original flag on my blog: https://drakoniandgriffalco.blogspot.com/2016/11/flag-of-aztec-empire.html?m=0

[savedbybangtan]

Smell the Roses

Summary: A woman living alone in the city makes a new friend, Jin.

3,065 words

Part 2/3

Warning tags: smut (minors dni), dubcon, mild stalking, possessive, unprotected sex (wrap it up yall)

a/n: I don’t think I’ve mentioned this last time, but this is loosely based on the Truth Untold. I came up with this plot by asking myself “what would happen if the truth was told?”

                                           Smell the Roses

The relentless sun beats down on Alice’s naked skin. Sun-kisses rain in places she never thought the rays would see. Jin’s light breathing and the waves on the shore she lay are the only things she can hear since they were so far away from the other beachgoers in this remote Caribbean country.

With a slow swipe across her pussy, she shivers and lean into Jin’s chest even further. His legs wrap around hers in a way to force her knees open, exposing her to the sea that languidly dances in front of them.

“Ahn” she gasps with her tongue out when she finds that her folds are glazed and glistening, just as the diamond sea glitters before her. “Jin,” she says self-conscious at first. “We are in public.” She squirms to close her legs, but he doesn’t allow her.

Her neon orange bathing suit is no longer covering what it is supposed to. Her bra strap sat haphazardly on her chest since Jin untied it at some point, and a string on one side of her bikini was undone to allow access for Jin’s sinful fingers.

He swirls his index finger lightly, but slowly, around her clit sending little shockwaves straight to her core. She gasps and moans.

“People aren’t going to see us unless you get too loud, so be quiet,” he teases. She can hear the smirk in his voice without having to turn to look at him.

“But-AGH!” Alice squeals when he shoves three of his fingers into her at once. Her body convulses, betraying her need to be penetrated at that moment. His thumbs play with her clit again as he picks up a brutal pace that tips her over the edge in mere seconds.

She squirts in the sand in front of her and tries to kick herself free from his hands when he attempts to overstimulate her.

He cuddles her up after she begins to sob from the sensations. “My poor baby,” he coos, lifting her up as though she weighs nothing. He cradles Alice in his lap and shushes her.

The small rocking movement calms her down oddly.

Alice feels so lucky to have such a caring boyfriend. He surprised her with these plane tickets to meet him in this country. Jin was coming from Korea and she came from her strange city, having to take three planes to get there.  They haven’t had alone time in an entire month. They’ve seen each other a few times but it was always with his managers present.

Now, they were truly alone to act as normal lovers do.

She tilts her head up to gaze at him in amazement, wondering how she was able to even pull him. He smiles down at her sweetly and kisses her heavy and hot on her lips. His tongue automatically enters her mouth to suck on hers. He nibbles at her bottom lip all the while smiling sweetly at her while her eyes remain closed.

Suddenly, she jumps and breaks the kiss. “What about you?” She asks, already trying to reach in his pants.

He was half hard, but her kissing and fondling was soon to change that.

He grabs the wrist of the offending hand and raises it to his face so he can kiss her palms while staring at her. “I’m fine,” he replies.

“But…”

“I just want you to be happy and enjoy yourself. Don’t worry about me.”

Alice pouts at this.

He chuckles, using his fingers to turn her chin so she can look at him. “Make it up to me tonight,” he suggests. He leans into her ear in a whisper, “if we start out here, you won’t be able to hold in your cries and the entire beach would come over to see what is happening. Unless that is what you want –“he leans in closer to whisper even more softly, “to show the entire beach how good you are at riding my cock.”

A blush spreads across her body and she shakes her head.

By the time they made it back to their hotel room, the tropical sun had already set. The two lovers had watched the orange and red disc tuck itself beneath the ocean vista during dinner.

Feeling sticky after a full day of activities, Alice decides to take a quick bath in cold water.

Before she enters the bathroom, Jin grabs her from behind. “Day one is gone, but I still don’t want you leaving my presence.” He kisses her ear. “Did you miss me?”

She blushes. “O-Of course I do, Jinnie. I told you that like fifty times today...”

“Oh yeah,” he taunts, kissing her neck now. “Tell me how much.”

“So fucking much.” She wiggles in his embrace, suddenly shy thinking about the amount of explicit videos he made her take whenever they were a part. Or, how she would watch fancams of his solo performances and get heated. “I, actually masturbated to a focus video of you on stage…”

He chuckles at this, thinking how cute she is and how happy she was able to be sprung over him so easily. “Oh yeah, which song,” he presses.

She deadpans hearing the humour in his tone. “I’m going to shower,” she says and runs away.

He laughs at her retreat. When she acts like this, he is reminded of their age gap. When he found out that he was 8 years older than her, he was almost discouraged. Sure, she’s legal, but she won’t be able to relate to a lot of the things that he has experienced. When he was in college, she would have been just leaving elementary school. That thought alone grossed him, so he tries not think about it.

Instead, his attention turns to her phone that lie on the bed beside him. Fancam, huh? He goes into her phone to see what kind of porn she really looks up, distrusting that she only used him to get off.

First, he goes through his routine check of her phone. Checking messages and contacts to ensure she is not being groomed by some other guy and for the first time, he actually finds something to upset him.

Clark

Who, the fuck, is Clark?

Jin scrolls all the way up in their chat and it turns out that Alice gave one of her co-workers her number. The guy was painfully, and embarrassingly for him, flirting with Alice, but if she noticed, she didn’t show it. All of her replies were strictly friendly, never giving him back the same sexual charged energy.

At least, it was that way for the beginning, which was a month ago.

Hey, haha, you know how sexxy you are @ work? That yellow pencil skrt you wear every fucking summer makes me soooooo hard – 3:00 am

Were you drunk? – 7:00 am

Oh my God, Alice. Please, I am so sorry for that text. I went out drinking with some of the other guys at the office. One of them must have gotten to my phone. This was very inappropriate. – 10:27 am

Jin looks at the datestamps in disbelief. This was barely two weeks ago. She never responded to his last message, thankfully, but he is not content with this discovery so he looks back at her contacts and found that there were about nine other new contacts. From the sounds of their names, Jin assumes that there are at least two other men. He reads their conversations to find that they were flirting with Alice, too.

From the messages that he quickly skimmed through, he can tell that she recently started going out for drinks with them.

A scoff escapes Jin as he grits his teeth. The thought of his girlfriend wearing some slutty “business” attire heading to bars was nauseating.

He goes through her gallery and finds many nude photos of her, some more raunchier than the last, but he skips through them having already seen them. He was the one who requested those exact poses so there was nothing new in those sections. Rather, it was her selfies taken at different bars that pissed him off. There was one that she took with her coworkers, obviously drunk by the red blush across her nose and forehead. From the angle, Jin can tell that she was dressed in some tight yellow pencil skirt and plain white button down. The ensemble showed her silhouette and figure beautifully. He can only imagine the amount of guys who probably undressed her in their minds.

With a red neck and head and tight fists, Jin is furious.

As if on cue, Alice saunters out the en suite bathroom with her towel wrapped around her.

She briskly walks in front of him to get into her suitcase and pull out her pyjamas.

However, she does not make it that far.

Jin grabs Alice by her shoulder and spins her around to look at him. At first, she thinks he is playing around with her, so she just lets him grab her.

She looks at him in confusion to see that he looked like he was about to blow a fuse. That was when the fear settled in. The roughness in which he held her registered and she started pulling away, but his grip is like an iron vice. It’s not the first time she has seen him angry, but he hadn’t asked her to do anything and refused lately. Normally, he would only be angry when he is overseas and she doesn’t pick up a facetime call, or send him photos. Yet, this time was different. There was no request for her to had disappointed him.

“Who the fuck are these people you’re whoring around with?” Jin asks bluntly.

“What?” The room swayed and her head grew heavy. Her confusion transcends emotions and manifests physically rendering her speechless.

Her feigning innocence tips him off the edge. “I left you where you were so that you could work and focus on your goals, like you asked, while I was focusing on mine, but from these pictures and messages, it looks like you were acting like a prostitute.”

Alice looks at him in astonishment as it all clicks together.

His anger, her phone unlocked in his hand, and her open gallery. “You went through my fucking phone,” she shrieks. This wasn’t an accusation, just an epiphany of the situation.

“Yes, and this isn’t the first time I have, dumbass. How else was I to find out you were out here acting like a slut?”

Did he just call her a slut? This could not be the same sweet man on the beach a few hours ago.

“You have no right! Aside from the fact that you’re blowing my content out of proportion, you’re literally invading my privacy.” She tries to remain calm, but the way he grips her phone had her uneasy. He’s grabbing it so hard his knuckles are white.

“Privacy? When you’re in a relationship there is no such thing.”

“Stop acting like a b-“ she is silenced when her phone comes flying at her face, hitting the wall right next to her head and dropping in dozens of pieces. “My phone!” She says with trembling lips. She looks up at him to see no remorse whatsoever in his face or stance. In fact, he looks almost deadly. She cowers when he suddenly moves.

Jin just huffs, puts on a jacket, and leaves the room.

Alice is left that night just with her thoughts as she cries herself to sleep. This was definitely not okay.

She puts on her night clothes and cuddles into the bed hugging herself. Thinking about going back home first thing in the morning after breaking things off with him.

It was the squawking of the seagulls near her hotel room that woke her up.

She sits up, rubbing her eyes before opening them to Jin sitting on the side of the bed with his broad back turned to her.

She jolts and this movement lets him know she is awake.

He puts on a friendly face and smiles at her sheepishly while she scoots away from him. Unsure if he is planning on acting out in violence again.

“Baby,” he starts slowly. He thought it was best to give her some time to wake up fully. “Last night was really crazy, wasn’t it?”

“Jin, this isn’t working…” she announces with downcast eyes. “I’m going back home today.” She peaks up at him to see his reaction.

“That’s unnecessary and you’re not breaking up with me over a small argument.” He sighs as though he’s exasperated with her useless suggestions.

“How you acted last night wasn’t okay, Jin. You broke my phone!”

He smiles suddenly and pulls out something from behind him. It’s the latest model iPhone box with a pink bow on top. “I got you a new phone. Your old phone was outdated anyway. Don’t worry about the old one breaking.” He tells her.

She is shocked at the gift. Where did he even get it from? She accepts the box and opens it to find that it was a brand new phone. He’s gotten her gifts before, but this is the only one she actually knows the price of.

“You can turn it on. Its already set up.”

She fiddles with it for a few minutes before looking unsure. How is she to know that what happened last night wouldn’t happen again? He’s obviously sorry if he got her such a big present, but his temper had to be controlled.

“Jin-“ she starts but is immediately cut off when he speaks.

“Lets spend today shopping. I heard the stuff you can get here aren’t even available anywhere else in the world.” He hugs her with a big smile. “Come on, get dressed and we can leave.”

The couple walked through the warm, humid streets. There were crowds of tourists wandering through the shops with the spicy scent of restaurants serving lunch to happy, and often drunk, customers. Alice is just happy to be on the island, enjoying the scenery.

They stop outside a high-end store as she stares across the street at a food cart. She had never seen the pastries that sat in the window and was wondering what they were when Jin gently pulled the hand he was holding back. “Babe, let’s check this out.”

Inside the store was airconditioned, much different from the hot air she was already accustomed to so she folds her arms to provide some warmth. The second thing she noticed were brands like Hermes, Gucci, Ralph Lauren, and Louis Vuitton behind different stalls.

Jin pulls her to one of the sections where she wouldn’t even dare try to pronounce the name of and starts browsing.

His girlfriend picks up a clutch that catches her eye because of the colours. It’s unique. “Is that what you want, Ally?” He asks from behind her.

“Yeah, but its so expensive. I would never spend that much on a bag,” she replies, putting it down in scorn.

“It suits you so nicely, though,” Jin says picking it back up. “Its only $4k,” he muses.

“Jin, no, I don’t need it. I wouldn’t feel comfortable if you spend that much money on me.” Recounting the phone he got her, she thought how he was pushing the line. She always prided in buying any possession she had.

“I wonder if it comes with shoes,” he thinks aloud to himself more than her. A store clerk approaches and that’s when he begins picking out other accessories she might like.

He ignores her when she says she wants to leave the store and just buy souvenirs, as she originally thought he meant when he said shopping, but he just continues politely asking the clerk for various shoes, purses, and watches.

“She’s a size 37. Do you carry half sizes? Let her try on the 38, too,” Jin says, ignoring her questioning stare.

By the time they were done, the couple had spent about 3 hours in the store and came out with too many bags of who knows what. Her trying on the items were a blur in between Jin’s commands. She did not even look at the totals when he checked out.

If the cost was too much, he did not complain. She stared on as he silently used his black card.

Walking out the store, she sees the street food vendor again and gets hungry.

Absently mindedly, she holds onto Jin’s sleeve as she stared on.

Noticing the way she tugged him, he follows her gaze.  “Are you hungry,” he asks.

“I just want a snack. Those pastries look really good.”

Without another word, he leads her to the cart and let her order for the both of them. As he dug in his wallet looking for cash to pay, she thinks back to the previous night. Was that version of him even real?

As he receives his change, Alice finally realises that he never actually apologised for his behaviour.

Seeing this situation as an outlier event rather than a peak at his true behaviour, she compartmentalises the hurt into a small cardboard bag. She packs these ill feelings inside one of the bags he held in his arms that looked to carry a few shoe boxes.

Yes, she will put this situation away when they get back to their respective homes. Like the shoes, bags, and belts, she stores them in the back of a hard to reach self in her closet, as she knows she will  never get to bring those things up again.

Or, that was what her unexperienced mind had assumed – that she would never bring that hurt back up in her mind, but like the LV heels that she ended up taking down to wear to work rather than catch dust, that Caribbean night bubbles back up when Jin visits her apartment mere months later.

a/n: One more part left! I suddenly felt like writing again so I'm posting old work.