#i had this idea for a piece of art that would be like his whole battle between his sexuality and religion

[reaminaart]

i LOVE LOVE LOVEEE YOUR JEFF AND JANE DESIGNS OMG!! what inspired them? :0

Thank you so muchh! //0v0//

I focus on them a lot because they have been my favorite characters for years now, so I tweak their design a lot, don't be surprised if some details change.

Jeff

A lot of inspo for my Jeff comes from Bleedingheartworks, specifically their older art of Jeff. Generally how they showed his personality and attitude through his design and gestures.

Other inspo comes from character like Frank-N-Furter and Mark Renton from Trainspotting. Esp. for his face I love giving him hard edges, angry big eyes, a bit of a resting bitch face that just looks confusing with his cut smile.

I actually had a hard time drawing him, until I just accepted that he doesn't have to look too human or realistic. The scars on his face allow me to kind of morph his face and make his expressions more extreme. I always try to show how ruthless and careless he is just through his looks, so longer nails, bruises, bleeding, and especially heavy scars are a must.

I understand realistically he'd be bald but I can't bring myself to do it, hair just brings the whole design together. His hair is straight and sharp, but it's pretty thick so it just looks like a mane when washed. Fun fact, I imagine his younger self always had a buzz cut.

I made his eyes able to almost close, bcs I like him being more expressive. His lower eyelids are not burnt but cut, you can see the scarring under them. So he can still kind of close his eyes but you would see some of his eye peeking out. I've not shown this in my art yet, but I like to think when he goes bonkers his pupils dilate instead of shrink.

Jane

idk where to even start, her look is constantly evolving in my mind, I literally want to put all ideas into one design but it's impossible. There's not specific inspo I have, I kind of lego built her from all interpretations I liked and art pieces over the years.

She's huge and strong I'll tell you that, it stunned Jeff a bit the first time he saw her. Wears heels to be even more intimidating, she stands at 190cm without them.

Her face is completely covered in scars and cuts, the burns go all the way from the head to the thighs, but they're more visible on the back. I'm gonna give a little spoiler to future art, but I feel like in at least one universe she would cover all of them with tattoos because she can't deal with the memories. Her eyes look completely black, but only her irises, the sclera is dark red and a bit blood shot. You can only see it when you get close.

Also she wears wigs, so I switch her hairstyle occasionally.

I try to make her as elegant as possible, but also threatening. (She's actually really sweet to the average person, but always looks annoyed. I love her, she is kind of selfish and crazy tho.) Anyways, her style, Gisele Bündchen for Alexander McQueen 1998 is the vibe she carries around.

My goal for future art is to try and make her mask/makeup more alien like.

Some outfit changes are on my to do list as well. I think they'd both rock the runway.

Thank you for asking ♡

[hinamie]

I don't want to regret the way I lived

[quirkle2]

OBSESSED with how you draw sans,,, he's so lovely and shaped!!!! and the expressions are beautiful, and that art has the Quirkle Thing where it's all soft and warm and like a visual hug. and the details are beautiful, you've converted me to the "sans has reading glasses" agenda and I'm stoked about it. anyway I love you, I love your art, I hope 2023 is gentle to you!

CRIES???? oh mgygod thank you,,, it's rly fun seein what aspects of sans meld w my style and which ones dont. the more cartoony facial structure lets me play around w it a lil bit and i can mess w clothing hanging off thin bones instead of muscles n skin ! so so glad u like it im always worried abt people not likin non-lu art of mine GVEYIAV

[teabiscs]

just thinking about gian x olivier.

like my past posted headcanon, but delving a little more into it. idk if anyone is gonna read this but like tw religion and internalized homophobia

gian realizing his feelings for olivier and them scaring him. one because its his teammate. and two, olivier is a not a woman. it goes against EVERYTHING he was brought up on. a relationship is between not a woman, these feelings are wrong. he wants these unnatural feelings GONE. and in his mind the easiest way is to leave.

so he dips off to north america bouncing around from city to city finding its less of a hassle to just chill in canada if he wants to get drunk, trying to drown out these feelings.

he flirts and hooks up with as many pretty woman as he can pull (because sex before marriage is less of a taboo than these feelings) and in the heat of the moment its fine. he could see himself like this, next to a beautiful woman, settling down and starting a family.

but once the afterglow fades, it all feels wrong. he's wondering if olivier snores and how he sleeps, what he sleeps in. if olivier's hair fans out around the pillow like the nameless body softly snoring next to him.

its a self destructive six months, and his liver hates him, (And one too many std scares. two pregnancy scares which is two too many when he's wearing protection.) and he hates himself. hates that he's still thinking of his green haired teammate back over the pond. he misses blading, but he left griffylon back in Italy. he knows he's missing out on events. he sees articles and replay videos on news sites. he exits out of them the minute he sees a flash of green hair.

his parents are pissed at him, his mother constantly scolding him that he's too old to be doing this. He has expectations of him, and he should be coming home, not doing this. And he better figure things out soon or theyre cutting him off, and he can figure things out on his own.,

so he tucks tail, way too soon, (because these feelings are persisting) and gets on a flight back home. he cant blame his parents, because he's sure theyve been tight lipped, but somehow his teammates are there grand entranceway, ralf and johnny look bored, and unimpressed when their eyes land on him.

at first gian feels disappointed that olivier is not there but then he emerges from behind the other two. and gian hates the way his heart pounds in his chest, the way his face feels hot. how the rest of his vision blurs and all he can see is olivier.

but once the surprise is done, he hates the way he feels. six months of running away, and thrusting his feelings into nameless woman and all it takes is one look.

same events as other post, but the hug from olivier has him feeling so conflicted. he can't stop playing back that moment and he hates it more and more and more. he shouldnt be having these feelings. he likes woman.

continuing with the other post. but more self loathing. and confusion, self discovery. delving into religion. self acceptance. he can have these feelings for a man. he's allowed to have feelings for olivier. but he refuses to ruin their friendship. he's so fine with their dynamic of following olivier around, even if it feels selfish and like he's taking advantage of olivier's kindness.

(even though olivier thinks their dating)

I like to think that Gian's mother knows there's something going on there but its not her place to ask. she just wants 3-5 grand children she's not picky. it's the 20th century and her only son's happiness is the most important thing to her. his father just wants his son to grow up (mostly because i can't mentally deal with this ship having more angst with homophobic parents. though that is something that could be explored by someone who is not me) [but also gian being so scared to tell his parents ANYTHING]

and honestly going forward its just shenanigans. of gian just falling more helplessly in love with olivier not realizing things are reciprocated, and olivier acting more and more affectionate and touchy.

and im running out of steam so. just follow the ohter post, and ill add more to it in another 15 months.

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[teamatsumu]

purple and pink. (rafayel x reader)

summary: you and rafayel cover yourselves in paint and (redacted).

word count: 3450

warnings: porn without plot, smut, swearing, nsfw, mdni, fem!reader

tags: @keiva1000 @kindnessspreads @msbyomimi

a/n: my brain is rotting for this man so this is just self indulgent crap atp

You weren’t exactly an artistic person.

You just never indulged in art before. Of course, you admired the craft and thought it was extremely difficult to actually create meaningful art. But you didn’t think you were a particularly creative person, nor did you think you had an eye for such stuff.

Ever since you began dating Rafayel, you would say your appreciation for art had definitely improved. How could it not, considering he spent all day creating it, and in the time he wasn’t, his world was still colored by the lens of it. Rafayel saw art everywhere he went, in the gentle roll of the water where it rippled in fountains, or the timid but pinpoint light of a lone star in a dark sky. He loved describing it to you, and the way he put it would make you look around twice. He had really changed the way you viewed the world.

What you were about to do now wasn’t exactly the kind of art that made you think deeply of the universe, but hey, not all art can make you question your existence. Sometimes you need to create….. lighter pieces.

Stepping back, you stared down at the bed sheet sized canvas you had stuck to the floor, sure that you had used enough adhesive to keep it temporarily in place. The clock on the far wall of the studio told you that Rafayel would be home in a little while, which meant you needed to start the next phase of your plan shortly. But first things first, you needed lighter clothes.

After you had switched your jeans and button down shirt for a thin, short robe, you began pulling down buckets of paint from the storage closet connecting to the main studio. You chose only two, a light purple and a light pink. Both colors you knew Rafayel liked using in his pieces. You might not know a whole lot about art, but you knew him inside out. And you also knew he would love this idea.

You spent the next few minutes going over the canvas with the two buckets, pouring a few globs of paint over it. Small, but dense, with lots of blank canvas around them so they could be spread. You decided to only do two or three globs of each color. After all, wasn’t the art in how the colors would move and slide on the canvas? This should be enough paint for that purpose.

Your face was heating up at the thought of what was about to happen, and you felt almost giddy. When was he going to be home? You couldn’t wait to get started.

As if on cue, the door of the studio clicked open, not making a single sound as your boyfriend lumbered in, closing the door behind him. His white shirt was loose, black pants tight, and you couldn’t help but admire his ass when he turned around to shut the door with a light snap.

“Hey-” He stopped almost immediately upon seeing you, eyeing the half empty paint can you were setting down and the flimsy robe covering your body. A body that was definitely naked under it.

“What are you doing?” You saw his eyes flick over you and then behind to eye the massive canvas you had laid out, along with the little circles of paint looking fresh and shiny on it. You gave him a grin.

“I was hoping we could collaborate for your next piece.” You tugged at his shirt until you both stood closer to the canvas, taking special joy in how confused he looked. His eyes kept darting all over the place to try and make sense of what was going on, and you had to stifle a giggle.

You thought to elaborate on your suggestion by slowly unbuttoning his crisp white shirt. Rafayel raised his eyebrows but didn’t stop you, probably curious to see what you were cooking. You tugged his shirt off his toned shoulders, before going to work on his pants. His hand finally seized yours, tilting his head so your eyes would meet his.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on?” His tone was amused. You hummed almost in thought, pulling your hand away. You tugged on the belt of your robe until it slipped free, and the front fell open. You saw the tips of Rafayel’s ears turn red, and his expression blanked a bit.

“You have paint. You have a canvas. And you have me.” Your voice was a low whisper. You reached into the bucket next to you, palms stretched, until they were both covered in paint. Then you reached one hand up and dragged your fingertips over his bare abs.

The cool paint made them contract a bit, and you heard the way his breath hitched under the touch. Four long streaks of pink now stood out against his pale skin. Finally, you looked back up to meet his gaze, his face inches from yours.

Rafayel’s blush had extended from his ears down to his neck, but the corner of his lip twitched up into a slow grin. His hands were eager as he undid the button of his pants, and you felt a thrill run up your spine. You watched him undress quickly. He was slow, smooth, as he lifted one precise hand to tug on the shoulder of your loose robe until it was falling off your shoulders and pooling at your feet.

He looked around and his eyes caught the second can of paint. Purple. He dipped his hands into it, and you watched him walk back over to you.

“Where did you get this idea, baby?” His voice had lost its confusion, coated in honey now, sultry and low, nearly a whisper, and you shivered when his breath hit your bare neck. He took advantage of the fact that your hair was pulled up and away from your shoulders, tracing gentle lips over the slope of your shoulder. Instinctively, your hands smoothed over his torso, and you were reminded of the paint on them, still wet, now swiped onto the man before you.

Rafayel hummed at the feeling and proceeded to return the favor, his hands set on your hips. The paint was cool on your skin, and you almost jumped at the temperature if it weren’t for his warm hands taking the feeling away in the next second. Your boyfriend gave your naked bodies a gentle tug backwards until you were stepping on paper, slight crinkling noises hitting your ears.

Gentle lips now made contact with yours, and you sighed in relief. You had missed this, just the feeling of him kissing you. You had been thinking about it- and other things- all day, and you were so excited to start. Hands caressed over each other slowly but eagerly, and you couldn’t even begin to imagine how much paint you had managed to get on each other.

Your kisses became more hurried, more firm, and you could feel Rafayel’s body temperature rise a bit. His breath stuttered when you moaned into his mouth, tongues dancing together in a synchronized battle. He nibbled at your bottom lip and you arched deeply into him, nails digging into his biceps.

“Fuck, the paint is drying.” You managed to gasp out when your lips separated, his mouth finding the skin behind your ear immediately. He sucked hard on it, until you shivered and let out a long, shaky breath. Your knees were so weak, and you were glad for his strong arms wrapped around your waist, since it was the only thing currently holding you up.

He hummed against your skin, not letting up on the marks he was marring it with. You had discovered pretty early on that Rafayel was a biter, and marks on your skin was another way he created art. It just so happened that you enjoyed the feeling more than you could ever think to describe.

“Good thing you laid more out for us then.” He responded, referring to the globs just below your feet, before tugging you down until you were sprawled on the canvas below you. It was cool under your skin, and you felt something wet just under your shoulder. Oh. Your eyes met Rafayel’s before they finally traveled down his body for the first time since you two had started. You gulped in a deep breath.

His pale skin was covered in purple and pink streaks, like smooth color streaked over brilliant porcelain. The ridges and bumps of his muscles stood out even more under the paint, and you could tell in a few places the exact route your hands had taken, pink running over his waist and down his V-line. The remnants of the journey your fingers took stood before you, proud on his skin. You felt a thrill run through you at the sight, something stirred in your core.

“This is turning you on.” Rafayel observed, a light smirk resting on his face. You felt your body burn at the teasing lilt of his voice.

“As if this isn’t something you’ve dreamed of doing.” You retaliated, opening your legs so he could fit himself between them, resting his elbows on either side of you so your faces were a hairbreadth away. He hummed and sighed, lowering his body until his erection grazed right over your center, making you gasp.

“Believe me, I’ve dreamed of this.” He sighed, reached for the paint to the left and just above your head. You watched him cover his palm with it before he reached down, hooking a hand under your knee and pulling it up until it folded against your torso. The paint was wet on your skin, and you were learning to love the feeling more and more. His cock prodded your entrance, now on full display for him. He gave you another mischievous smirk.

“Baby I’m about to ruin you so bad.”

The first slide of him inside you had you crying out and arching into him, his cock carving its way through your unprepped hole and bringing with it a burn so delicious it made your head spin. When he bottomed out, he moaned unabashedly into your ear, hot breath hitting the shell of it and sending shivers through your spine. Your core clenched and unclenched rapidly, trying to adjust to the glorious intrusion. Your brain screamed at him to move, to slide in and out, do anything at all. You needed to feel him rock into you. Your hips twitched and jerked, making your boyfriend moan before he finally started moving.

His thrusts started out languid, smooth, gliding in and out of you at a reasonable pace. You sighed, head leaned back and reveling in the feeling it brought, leg tensing under his grip. Little tendrils of pleasure zipped up from where you were connected, heavy cock stretching you open until your pussy was adequately wet, ready to take the pounding you knew was inevitably coming your way.

And oh, did you receive it.

Slowly, steadily, Rafayel picked up the pace until his hips were smacking hard into your pelvis, knocking every breath from your lungs. You cried out, one arm thrown over his shoulder while the other seeked desperate purchase under you, used to the feeling of silk sheets but now met with nothing but smooth, stretched out canvas and the wet sensation of sticky color. Rafayel used the grip he had on your knee to twist your leg out further, inviting him to hit that one spot that made you see stars. A broken wail left your mouth and your back arched impossibly high, hearing a low moan hit your ear when you clenched tight around the cock pounding into you.

“F-fuck, Rafi-” His head lifted, just enough to connect your lips in a desperate slurry of rushed kisses, sucking and biting on your lips as his pace didn’t so much as stutter. Your moans dissolved straight into his mouth, little pornographic ‘yeah, yeah, yeah’s slipping out with every thrust. You didn’t bother muffling them, knowing exactly what the noises did for Rafayel’s ego, and with how he was ravishing you currently, you were okay with giving him a little ego boost.

(You would deal with the consequences of that later.)

“Gonna cum-” You managed to choke out just as your orgasm rammed into you with no warning, effectively silencing any other words as you cried and shook through it, muscles seized tight and legs kicking in the air.

“God- fuck,” Rafayel’s first words. “There you go. Fuck, that’s it.”

He fucked you through the last vestiges of your high before his arms slipped under your arched waist and lifted you up, rolling over until you were perched on his hips, throbbing cock still nestled inside you. The change in position made him slide in deeper, and you let out a broken moan. Your orgasm was still lingering around the edges, encouraging you to prolong the feeling, to chase after it again. And so you did. You rolled your hips, placing your hands on Rafayel’s abs as leverage to push your body up and down. You finally took a good look at your boyfriend.

His chest was heaving with exertion, shining under the glow of the lights above you, catching on the swirling mixes of purple and pink. Under the paint, his skin glistened with sweat, tensing and straining under his movements. The paint had reached all the way up the side of his neck, and even into his hair, blending with the purple tresses. The purple complimented his eyes, half lidded and heavy with lust, his lip was tucked under his teeth.

He was a vision.

“Baby, you’re so fucking beautiful.” His voice was fractured and strained, and in your staring you had forgotten that you were also the object of his gaze. You couldn’t imagine how you looked right now, slathered with paint and hot under the stimulation you were receiving, strands of hair leaving your bun and trailing down over your face and neck. You rolled your hips and tightened hard around his cock, watching the way his jaw slackened and eyes rolled shut. Another zip of pleasure ran through you, and you couldn’t help but keen, pushing yourself to go faster, to make him feel even better.

“I’m- I’m so close.” You could feel your vision swim, tears gathering in your lash line as his cock dug deep into your core, prodding into your spongy walls in all the right ways. Rafayel grabbed both your wrists off his chest, pulling them behind your back and then tugging you down until your body was pinned tight against his. You let him do as he pleased, planting his feet on the canvas before he started thrusting hard and fast up into your sopping cunt.

You screamed and arched, body tensing at the pace he set, chin resting on his shoulder and head thrown back as you let him carry you face first into another orgasm, gushing around him until the sounds of his thrusts grew impossibly wetter, sloppier than the paint around you and covering you, blabbering incoherent phrases and curses as tears poured from your eyes. With every thrust, the ecstasy prolonged itself, like an endless high that came with intense drugs, except all you needed was him, and he would get you there if it was the last thing he did.

Your perspective was shifting, Rafayel’s cock leaving you until you felt cold and empty. He maneuvered you onto your hands and knees, or rather, arms and knees since you felt that you couldn’t even hold yourself up at this point. A firm hand pushed on your back until it arched to his liking, spreading you until he could slide his massive length back into you with little to no resistance. You whimpered pathetically, eyes rolling unhindered in your head, cheek smushed into the paper beneath you. Briefly, you felt like you could almost taste the paint, but the thought left your brain faster than cigarette smoke dissipating on a windy day when Rafayel started moving again.

“Stop me if you can’t take it.”

You could never, would never stop him, not when your pussy keened at the feeling of his cock filling you up to fulfillment once more. Especially not when he planted a foot on your side that gave him leverage to thrust harder and stronger into you. Your body buzzed and reveled under the feeling of being used like this, basking in the sounds coming from Rafayel getting heavier and choppier as he finally chased his own orgasm instead of yours. You wanted nothing more than for him to warm you up, fill you with his seed until you couldn’t take any more of it. Your depraved mind was wiped blank of everything else except that crushing need.

“Cum in me.” You managed to whine, clenching hard around him. Rafayel moaned and his hips stuttered.

“Fuck. I’m gonna- I’m cumming baby, take it, take it, take it, take it-” Your body jostled at the strength of his thrusts, once, twice, and then he was slamming his cock deep into you and holding it there, hot spurts of cum hitting your walls. Painting your insides white like your bodies had painted your outsides purple and pink.

Your entire body collapsed on itself when Rafayel pulled out, dropping onto the paper heavily as you tried to catch your breath. Your vision was swimming and so was your head, unable to do anything but focus on the faint buzz in your muscles. You could hear shuffling somewhere behind you before you were being lifted into strong arms. You sighed and curled into them, seeking the warmth of your boyfriend after the beating your body just took. And he was happy to provide it- in the tub he ran for you while both of you settled into warm water.

You dozed in and out of sleep as Rafayel cleaned you up, giggling and humming along with whatever little anecdotes he was telling you. He knew you would barely remember most of it later, considering how dopey and spacey you got after sex. You pouted and leaned up to him every few minutes, stealing tiny kisses from his lips. And afterwards, you let him pat you dry and put you to bed in the usual “princess treatment” he gave you after one of your sessions. The only time he backed off from teasing you relentlessly and instead doted on you properly.

You couldn’t tell how long you slept, but you woke up feeling well rested. The bed next to you was empty but still slightly warm, and you could hear quiet shuffling outside in the studio.

Your muscles screamed when you forced them to move, your hips and thighs feeling like particular sore spots. You ignored the feeling in favor of pulling a shirt off the floor to throw over your body, realizing it was your boyfriend’s when it fell all the way to your thighs. You trudged out of the room while rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You saw him standing with his back to you, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. The muscles of his bare back shifted as he moved, now clear of all the paint you two had slathered on it. Oh right, the paint.

Your eyes shifted behind him to the canvas, which Rafayel had propped up against the wall now, and was observing silently. You walked closer to admire the streaks of pink and purple on it, watching it carefully. Somehow, the choppy strokes showed your desperation, your passion, and you felt your face heat up at the thought.

“Looks pretty.” Your voice was slightly rough. Rafayel turned around at the sound and gave you a soft smile, pulling you closer and wrapping his arms around you from behind as you both stared. You settled into his warmth as you swayed gently back and forth.

“Why’re you thinking so hard about it?” You asked.

You turned your head to watch as he huffed and pouted a bit. He looked so cute, you bit back the urge to squish his cheeks.

“Pretty sure there’s some cum in there somewhere.”

Aaaaaand the urge was gone.

You smacked his chest hard, making him jerk back and laugh, but not releasing his hold on you.

“You’re disgusting.”

“Not more than you.”

He kissed you before you could land another smack, hand cupping your jaw to tilt your head back. You fought to keep a grin down, but failed when you felt his lips stretch with a smile of his own, erupting into giggles.

[rosenclaws]

Hi! 👋

I saw your requests were open and I was wondering if I could submit a request?

The reader is a shy artist who is a friend of Wades. She carries a sketchbook with her everywhere to sketch new pieces, but she doesn't show her work to people unless it's to Wade.

She and Worst!Logan become friends and slowly develop feelings for one another, but they won't say anything to each other because they think that the other wouldn't want them. Until Worst!Logan finds her sketchbook by accident and finds the book is filled with sketches of him. Worst!Logan confronts her about it, but she's a stuttering mess, and they end up confessing to each other. And please make it extra fluffy. Maybe throw in a kiss or a makeout session. Your choice lol.

Thank you and have a good day! 😊

Hidden Feelings and Hidden Sketches || Worst!Logan Howlett x Reader

warnings: drinking, swearing, wade making suggestive comments, make out sesh towards the end, reader gets drunk and logan helps her out. Logan also calls the reader sketch. It got kinda suggestive at the end I apologize sldfjka

a/n: Hi!! This idea is adorable omg I love it, I hope it was fluffy enough for you I have to admit I'm not great at writing pure fluff. I also hope wade is funny because I am not funny so its hard to write his dialogue sometimes. I also altered the plot a little so i hope its okay

You never quite understood how you and Wade became friends. He was possibly the biggest extrovert you have ever met and you were the exact opposite. He saw you once at his favorite diner with your sketchbook and he jumped into the seat across from you.

Yapping on about your art and if you drew often and that he once tried to paint but the class didn't appreciate his art and asking if you'd paint him naked as a present for his girlfriend. Which you declined very quickly.

He wouldn't leave you alone, talking and asking you all sorts of things. You getting a few words in and him covering the other 98% of the conversation. He left with the promise of seeing you again and disappeared before you could say anything else.

It was an odd experience that's for sure but you liked Wade. Sure enough he kept coming back and a friendship had blossomed. He invited you over to dinner multiple times but you always declined, choosing to meet at the diner instead.

Slowly he got you out of your shell around him. Cracking jokes and sometimes putting him in his place when he went a little too far. You showed him your sketchbook after a while and he gushed over your drawings. Begging you to draw him at his best angles and you would sometimes give in.

When he disappeared for a while you got worried, that is until he showed up with a new dog and a very handsome new friend. You couldn't take your eyes off of him. Wade spotted you and waved but you didn't even notice.

"I know right, he's like a tall glass of rage filled water." Wade sighs as he sits across from you.

"I uh what?" You hug your sketchbook close to your chest as you rip your eyes away from Wade's new friend.

"Oh don't pretend like you weren't eye fucking him the second he walked in here, not that I blame you." Your eyes widen as you start to stutter. Your face heating up as you stare at the pancakes in front of you instead. A loud grunt catches your attention. You can barely meet his eyes as your brain is too busy being embarrassed by what Wade had said.

"You can sit on my lap angel cakes." Wade pats his leg but gets shoved to the side as his new friend sits down across from you.

"Logan this is my friend, be a good kitty and play nice." Logan rolls his eyes and chooses to ignore Wade. He does look at you though, burning a whole through your skull.

"Hi Logan," You say shyly.

"Hi." A few beats of silence pass until Wade breaks it as usual.

"Well aren't you two the life of the party, if you excuse me I have to go relieve myself." Wade stands up and instead of asking Logan to move, starts to climb over the man.

"What the fuck?!" Logan hisses as he grabs Wades shirt and tosses him to the ground. You can't help the laugh that escapes your mouth as your friend flops to the ground.

"So rude." Wade shakes his head and heads off to the bathroom. Silence falls once again as you awkwardly push around the pancakes on your plate.

"What's that?" Logan asks, nodding towards your sketchbook. You grab your book and shove it into your bag.

"Nothing! It's uh, just a sketchbook it's nothing don't worry about it." Logan raises an eyebrow as you panic in front of him.

As if you couldn't feel more embarrassed. You debate on waiting for wade or just leaving to save yourself but Logan makes the choice for you.

"You don't have to stay, not holding you hostage." He sips his coffee as you let out a shaky laugh.

"Not much of a talker." You play with your fork as you look up at Logan. He's much more handsome up close.

"Neither am I." He offers a small half smile and you return it. He's still incredibly intimidating but maybe you can stick it out a little longer. Logan's food comes and the two of you eat in a comfortable silence and when you're done you work up the courage if he'll be here tomorrow. He holds the door open for you as you step outside.

You clutch tightly onto the strap of your bag as you wait for his answer. He lights a cigar and you try and suppress your smile when he says he will be. As you part ways you realize that Wade never did come back from the bathroom.

That sneaky bastard.

-on

The diner uh, meetings as you called them, with Logan were amazing. His grumpy exterior was hard to crack but eventually the two of you started to become friends. Being with Logan started to become your favorite parts of the week. He was more than the tough guy persona he put on. What surprised you the most is that he seemed interested in you too. Well you know as friends.

Logan could appreciate someone who liked the quiet. He never pushed you out of your comfort zone, never made you feel uncomfortable. He was just Logan. Call it what you want but it was only a matter of time before you fell head over heels for that man. Not that you'd ever tell him.

How could you?

He's a superhero. He's gorgeous and grumpy and funny and so much more. All you do is draw silly pictures. So for now you settle on friends. Even if he makes your stomach turn with ever smile. Even if his laugh is the best thing you've ever heard. Friends. That's good enough for now.

-

"Wade Wilson I am going to kill you!" You say angrily.

He had texted you asking you to meet him for coffee and you had agreed solely because you never got the chance to scold him for his little dine and dash.

"Leaving me alone with a stranger!" You slap his hand as he tries to reach for your pastry.

"Ow! That was so five months ago! Anyways I was just trying to help. You know, relieve the sexual tension." You gasp as he makes a very lewd gesture with his hands.

"Besides, you and Logi bear are spending a lot of time together for just being friends huh Boo-Boo." Before you can stop him he reaches for your sketchbook. Keeping it just out of reach as he flips through the pages.

"Give it back!" You plead as you reach across the table.

"Oh. My. God. How come you never draw me this sexy?" He shows you the pages and you fall back into your seat in defeat.

You know what's in there and now Wade does too. Pages and pages of sketches of Logan. You feel like a stalker. It's not your fault! Ever since you met him he's all you can think about. All you can draw.

"Please give it back." You beg but he refuses.

"You'll get it back after you admit to Logan how you feel."

"What!" Your jaw drops as you make another lunge for your book.

"I am a very impatient man and I'm not about to wait another thousand words for the two of you to fuck." He stands up and tucks the book down his pants.

"Ew really?" You groan as you let your face fall into your hands.

"I'm having a get together and you're invited. Logan will be there it's the perfect opportunity." You feel like throwing up at the idea of talking to Logan about any of this.

Maybe you could just steal it back tonight. Or maybe you could never show your face to anyone ever again. Yah the second option sounds better. If only it was that simple. You waited for many anxiety filled hours, the only thing on your mind is getting your damn book back. You knock on the door and it swings open with Wade standing there, a stupid smile on his face.

"Honey badger at 4 o'clock." He hands you a drink and pushes you right towards him. You shoo him away, taking a deep breath and head towards Logan.

"Hi Logan," You say nervously.

"Didn't think these were really your thing." He says with a smile. You laugh nervously and nod your head.

"Yeah well...I thought he'd finally stop asking if I came to one of these things." You joke. Logan snorts and offers you the seat next to him.

"Good luck with that." You sit next to him and swirl around the ice in your drink.

If you're going to tell him then you're going to need a lot of help. Logan's eyes widen as you down your drink in one go, making a face before asking for another one. He's never seen you at a party, let alone drink.

"Why don't you take it easy there sketch."

"It's a party right, why not have a little fun." Logan keeps an eye on you as you drink and drink. As the night passes on he realizes that you might have had a little too much. You can barely get a sentence out by the time the party's over.

"Hi Logii!" Your arms slink around his neck as you stumble into him.

"Come on, let me take you home." He chuckles as he helps you to the door.

"Nooo, I needa get my uh..." You stop and think for a moment.

"My uhhh" Logan hums as he helps you to your apartment. You stay close to Logan as you walk through the night. He's just so warm and he smells so good.

"Got your keys?" You pat around for them and frown. Logan reaches into your bag and pulls them out.

"Right here." He unlocks your door and helps you to your bed. You sigh as your head hits your pillow.

"Oh! my sketchbook. Wade has my sketchbook." You say with a yawn.

"I'll get it back tomorrow, now sleep well." Logan takes off his jacket and lays it on you. He brushes your cheek gently. A soft smile on his face as he leaves you to sleep peacefully.

"Good night."

-

God your head hurt and the sun was way too bright. You crack your eyes open groan as you head pounds. What were you even thinking last night? You wanted your damn book back that's what you were thinking. A loud knock on your door makes you moan in pain. Getting up you swing open your door only to be met with Logan holding your book. Your face pales as you see a smirk on his face.

"Wade gave me back your book." You reach out for it but he holds it back.

"You're a real good artist sketch." To your horror he opens up your book and flips to one of its pages.

Right in front of you was a side profile sketch of Logan. It had been while you were at the park or something. The sun was hitting him perfectly, he had this content look on his face. You couldn't help but draw it when you got back home. To capture him in a moment where everything felt okay.

"I uh..I.." You don't know what to say. He caught you red handed. Your face is on fire from shame and embarrassment as he finally hands over your book. You can't even look at him.

"I'm sorry." You whisper. Shutting your eyes you hope he gets the hint and leaves, leaves you to wallow in pity.

"Sorry? Why are you sorry." He grabs your chin and tilts your head up.

"I'm flattered sketch. I think you really captured me pretty good." You still can't bring yourself to say anything as you hug your book tightly. You can't tell if he's making fun of you or what.

"This isn't funny Logan." You try and push his hand off you but his grip is strong.

"Not trying to be funny." He brushes his thumb over your lips.

"Logan..." Your eyes flick down to his lips and you know he catches you.

"Say it, come on don't be shy. Not with me." Sighing you dig your fingernails into your book.

"I love you." Your voice is barely above a whisper, eyes squeezing shut. You almost hope he doesn't hear it but of course he does.

He presses his lips to yours roughly. You drop your book in shock as you melt deep into his kiss. Wasting no time in kissing him back, hands wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. He deepens the kiss as his hands fall to your sides. You pull away much to his disappointment, his lips chasing after yours for a moment.

"I love you too." He kisses your jaw lightly making you sigh.

"You know, those drawings were good but I think you got my lips wrong." You furrow you eyebrows, you thought you got his lips pretty good. After all you stared at them long enough to memorize them.

"Yeah sweetheart, think you need a lesson." He walks you back until you hit your couch.

"Get up close and personal." He winks as you bite your lip. How flustered can he make you?

"Then maybe you can show me more of those drawings."

Well, If it would help make your drawings more, accurate. Then who are you to say no?

"Okay." You run your hands along his arm as you look back up at him. Nerves and excitement swirling around your eyes.

"Don't worry sketch, I'm a pretty good teacher."

[junosswans]

FMA sketches by Ace Attorney's character designer, Iwamoto Tatsuro

For the past week, Iwamoto-san has been posting sketches of FMA characters on his twitter as a part of his daily sketching challenge and they are absolutely BEAUTIFUL.

I really want to share his art over here and also translate his posts for you all because I think his commentaries are quite insightful for people who are interested in character design!

[Those who know their AA lore would recognize him as who voiced Edgeworth (Mitsurugi) in the games :3]

Anyways, below are his FMA sketches he's shared on twitter so far! (Contains: Ed, Hughes, Kimblee, Mustang, Breda) You can click on the dates to see their original post. I will add to this post if he shares any more sketches, it seems that he has been on an FMA roll xD

###

25/11/2023

If you draw your favourite things out you will know them better! So, this is Edward Elric from #FullmetalAlchemist.

Even if you have decided on the pose you want to draw, it is better to sketch out these three first:

the moment before the pose is struck

the pose itself

the moment after the pose is struck

then decide which image works better for your art. I learned this from a really great senior of mine, and it is very solid advice.

###

29/11/2023 (Translator's note: I decided to move this one to the top because it is my favourite. No I don't accept criticism.)

I have been drawing Ed's automail again.

I like it when the machine part has a distinctly different silhouette compared to the human body, so I added some original ideas to the design.

What design should I draw next? Perhaps I should draw the military uniform?

# (combined two posts because they’re the progression of the same piece.) #

26/11/2023

Again, it is the time of "drawing your favourite things to know them better!"

It feels so good to draw such great characters...

27/11/2023

My Photoshop has been crashing for mysterious reasons the whole morning, and I tried to troubleshoot in the afternoon and it was a PAIN. Computers are really difficuuuuuuuult--

###

28/11/2023

Iwamoto-style drawing Masterclass: Bonus!

It is the "Give the leather and metal items a bit of flare/shine to immediately make the drawing look more complete"-jutsu!

###

30/11/2023

I wanted the clothes to give off an oversized, loose impression.

Canon Hughes didn't seem to be wearing a shirt underneath... hmm.

03/12/2023

I am beginning to understand the structure of the military uniform better...

Realising the butt flap/cape didn’t actually connect to the upper jacket is a shocker to me.

###

03/12/2023

A continuation of yesterday's sketch

...or so I thought, until I realized how King Bradley and Kimblee during the Ishval war had a different overcoat design, in which they actually wore a single long coat instead of a separated upper and bottom set.

###

04/12/2023

When his clothes were unbuttoned, there was something that looked like an additional button on his right chest... I wonder if it could be fastened from the back?

(Translator's note: sorry, I have no idea what button he's referring to here lol)

###

05/12/2023

I like how each character's personality was expressed through the way they dress. Contrary to his appearance, this person was very intelligent, which makes him such a great character.

[possiblyreallyme]

Once a Beckman girl, always a Beckman girl

warning: very spicey/smutty but no actual penetration, toys (vibrator), size kink if you squint, big dick benn canon.

hello! i got this idea from one of my favorite one piece writer on tumbler, @innerfare!! everyone, go check them out!! thank you so much!!

"Come on, honey. Don't you wanna come back to my cabin?" Shanks asked drunkenly through his hiccups and wolfish grin, staggering over the countertop to hold onto the wood and wink at you.

You'd giggle, but you shook your head, cleaning the counter when he knocked over a glass of alcohol with his one elbow.

"I'm sorry, sir," You told him with that sweet smile, though you didn't seem very sorry. "I already have plans with your first mate."

Shanks backed off immediately, nodding his head and walking away before you could ask why. Even in his drunken state, he knew it was a complete waste of time to try and woo one of Benn's girls.

Plus, his first mate wasn't one to sleep around, so Shanks knew better than to interfere when he needed a night to relax. He was drunk, not heartless.

"Tough luck," Lucky Roux murmured through his mouthful of meat when Shanks told the table of pirates about the barmaid, not even looking up to console his captain. "No one gets one of Benn's girls."

"Yeah, no shit," The captain murmured with a hiccup, before slouching against the table with a few more, spinning a bottle cap around like a pouty child.

"I just wish we knew what he does to get girls so crazy," Yasopp replied under his breath, though he didn't necessarily care to keep his voice low. Anyone who knew Benn knew he was a charmer, even if he didn't go around flirting as much as his captain.

If only they knew. If only they knew how their Benn could drag his fingers across a lady's skin and make her feel like she was a work of art. How as much as Shanks told him one-night stands and hookups shouldn't last more than 30 minutes, he just can't leave a girl like that.

Was he not supposed to stretch her with his fingers? How was she supposed to fit him if he didn't— while you're at it, doesn't it feel better when you let her ride your face until she's squealing and pulling at your hair? And it would weight much too heavy on his conscious if he left a woman alone in bed when she's tired and sore and in need of some love, when he could put his left-over energy to use and make her a nice meal, maybe give her a massage to ease the ache he caused.

Of course a man like him was so popular with the ladies. He was practically made for women, with how he could memorize your body like the back of his hand, as if he's known you his whole life, but he only just learned your damn name.

He'll coo in that deep voice of his, say things a pirate most certainly shouldn't be saying to someone he'll never see again, with that charming smile on his face and slowly rolling his hips into yours, thumbing at your clit until you've coated the sheets in as much cum as you could give him.

And yet, he's never come across as a player. He isn't a womanizer; he isn't someone like Shanks who can't be trusted to remember his partners names after a week. He's tough as nails and brutal, but to the women whose hearts still throb for the first mate, he was a sweetheart. The type to empathize and sooth when he's just a little too big to fit all the way in your cunt, wiping your tears with kisses and assure you that you've taken more than enough for him to enjoy, so don't feel guilty.

"Benn," You're whining that night, just after you close and the Red Force was snickering when Beckman puts his hand on the small of your back, dwarfing you so intensely you felt your face go hot. You should have fucking guessed that a man with hands bigger than your head had a cock to match.

"Shh, I know, sweetheart. Just relax," He soothed, large fingers parting your labia and pulling up the hood of your clit, circling the little nerve with an ease that made you wonder if he'd done this before with you.

You knew good and damn well you'd remember if a man like this had ever been with you before, but he hadn't even taken his eyes off your face and yet he found your clit almost faster than you could.

You couldn't focus on that though, already fighting off delirium you only thought a cock could bring you, taken by surprise how he could get you so dumb when all he had done was fuck you with that big black vibrator. He kept you sat upright on his desk by letting you lay your head on his shoulder, fluttering kisses against your jaw and rubbing your back when you clenched around the toy and whined for more, soothing you with his whispers like a father soothing his baby in the dead of night.

"Not yet, little one." It had been not yet all damn night, and you were ready for more. Eyes locked on the tent in his pants, large and clearly thick enough to stretch you to your limit, but you couldn't find it in you to care how much it would hurt. He cared though, and thank God for that. He couldn't live with himself if one of his sweethearts got hurt when it was his job to make sure they were well taken care of and happy, even though Shanks tried to explain to him that his job was simply to get off and go.

When he finally pulled the vibrator out and let you slump against hi desk, he kissed along the inside of your thighs and cleaned up the mess dripping to your knees, murmuring enough poetic praise to keep you high on orgasm for longer than your ego appreciated.

"Aw, baby doll," He chuckled faintly against your cunt, a smile stretching across his lips when you squirmed and whined when his stubble brushed along your sensitive thighs. "You still wanna take my cock, don't you?"

"Yes." Your mother would be ashamed at how fast you answered the pirate, who merely chuckled again and lifted you into his arms.

[cottonlemonade]

hii! may i please order a medium pineapple lemonade with extra ice for suna? your work is always so wonderful 🥹🌸

Accidental Confession

word count: 1317 || avg. reading time: 6 mins.

pairing: rival!Suna x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff with some suggestiveness, enemies to lovers

warnings: mdni

request: fluffy-spicy accidental confession with rival Suna

It all started with a meme. If Suna hadn’t taken that picture of you stretching during class and added a little Simba into your hands, you wouldn’t have photoshopped his face onto a mop.

To be fair, his was harmless. Yours was downright rude and so he fell in love immediately.

He followed you around - not as inconspicuously as he might have hoped - to sneak a photo in the most meme worthy moments, flooding his camera roll with dozens and eventually hundreds of snapshots of you. The whole front of a silly little meme war was a great excuse to mask his steadily growing crush and his friends didn’t think anything of it when Suna set a picture of you mid-sneeze as his lock screen. Granted, he himself was still very much in denial about his feelings as well, so it wasn’t that difficult to pretend that he wasn’t bothered when you talked to an upperclassman and laughed loudly at his, undoubtedly, mediocre joke - although Suna did sweep his pencil case off his desk in an attempt to wave Osamu off when he asked if he was okay.

The class groaned when the teacher announced that for the impending field trip they’d be split into teams of two via random lottery. Half the students got assigned a number while the other half drew a little piece of paper from a box held out to them to match with said number. Quiet cheers and not so quiet disappointment could be heard and the teacher called for silence.

Annoyed that he didn’t even get the minuscule chance to work with him, Suna leaned over to Osamu, “Who do you have?” His friend unfolded his paper and turned it over to read.

“5. That’s…”, he craned his neck to check and count, “Y/n, ya?”

“Switch with me.”, Suna said.

“Why? Who do ya have?”

“Don’t care. Come on.”

Osamu frowned and raised an almost disappointed brow.

“What happened to ya, dude? Ya know, yer bein’ real obvious at this point, right?”

Suna rejected the allegations, waited a moment, then simply exchanged his slip of paper with Osamu’s.

“Ya owe me.”, Osamu noted.

“Yeah yeah.”

Meanwhile, you seemed less thrilled about the match and when the bell rang you threw an annoyed look at Suna who gave you a blank stared wave and went to lunch with your friends. He was a very unfortunate long-term crush you had nursed since the beginning of the year and was as handsome as he was annoying. In spite of this, you had a great time complaining about your matched partners over your bentos while enjoying the mellowing summer sun under the shade of a tree.

When the next morning arrived, Suna made sure to be only two minutes late instead of his usual 15, so he could secure the spot next to you on the long drive to Kobe. The class would be headed to the big art museum in the city and as an assignment got a list of 15 art pieces they had to find, like a scavenger hunt. The first team to get a picture from each of their art works would get to choose where to go for lunch.

With a sigh you dropped in the seat next to him, frowning at his sleepy grin. When you only scoffed and looked away, his heart started pounding and he had no idea why. And this wasn‘t a “oh Suna, you‘re just in love, silly“ kinda pounding. No! This was more similar to that one time when he went out for coffee with his friends and instead of admitting that he wanted his favorite - a sickeningly sweet vanilla latte with extra syrup pumps - he ordered an iced Americano with a triple shot because he thought it sounded cool and for hours it had felt as if a tiny panicked bird was trapped in his chest. In short, he concluded, you were not good for his health.

“Alright.”, you said once you turned to him. You stood in the entrance together with the rest of the class, holding the reference paper in hand listing the artwork, “I’ll take the top 8, you take the bottom 7.”

He bit back a comment about how there was nothing “bottom” about him, but one look from you and he was quiet. That icy stare of disdain made him want to do the cooking and the cleaning and ask how your day had been while he finished up the ironing. “Let’s do this.”, he replied and nearly whimpered when you rolled your eyes at him.

With some quick online searching, the artwork was quickly found and the pictures taken. To keep up appearances he snapped a few pics in between of the NPCs in baroque paintings with increasingly weird facial expressions, fully intending to ask, “This you?” the next time he saw you. He could also airdrop them during class and looked forward to receiving a less than flattering emoji or thumbs down.

But now he had a different objective. Excited at the prospect of finally having an excuse to get your number, he jogged through the museum to your previously agreed upon meeting spot, finding you seated and waiting for him on a bench. You were scribbling on a notepad precariously balanced on your knees. He snuck up behind you, leaned in close to your ear and in a low calm voice went, “Boo.”

The yelp you let out had museum goers turn to you and a man with a lanyard, who was guiding a tour, threw an exasperated sigh in your direction.

“You better sleep with one eye open.”, you pressed out through gritted teeth, a deep red tint on your cheeks.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”, he said simply and in one smooth movement sat down next to you.

“So, how do you wanna do this?”, he then asked casually, waiting for you to say the words.

“Just airdrop them to me.”, you frowned.

“Oh.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Luckily his deflated shoulders were masked by his chronically bad posture and he quickly selected the necessary pictures.

Your phone gave a little buzz and you accepted the stack. “That’s all. You’re excused. Go off and do… whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I can stay and help, you know? I skimmed some of the plackets.”

“What great work ethic.”, you deadpanned but moved your notepad closer to him so he could see.

With your other hand you swiped through the photos, double checking if you had everything.

He was too busy catching a whiff of your shampoo to notice you furrowing your brow.

“Uhm, Suna.”

You turned your phone screen to him and the blood drained from his face.

It was a picture of you - of course, what else could it have been. You were absently staring out the window in the classroom, your hair a little messy from a regular day of fending for your life in high school. Your chin rested on your palm and the sun shone beautifully against your face. He knew the picture well, because just last night when he couldn’t sleep, he edited it. Black and white hearts bordered the snapshot, a slightly blurry filter gave it a dreamlike feel. He gagged when he saw just how mushy he must have felt to add words around your head. Pookie. Baddie. Loml. My Bbg.

“What kind of prank is this?”, you asked, suspicion clinging to every syllable.

Suna thought.

Telling you that this picture was born out of post-nut hormones would only lead to a somewhat compromising confession that he fondled and humped his body pillow thinking of you, having no problem at all imagining your so very tempting love handles spilling between his fingers.

“Would you believe me if I told you my dog took my phone?“

You stared at him for a moment, then broke into giggles.

a/n: thank you so much for continuing to participate in my events! I’m so happy when someone comes back for more 🥺 I hope you enjoyed this one! 🌟

And once again thank you to @haikyu-mp4 for letting me surf her brain through the storm ✨

[arminsumi]

hellooo to you, i’d like a suguru pls, post premature death suguru meeting a ‘monkey’ that he falls in love with, hence he have another reflection.. maybe jujutsu sorcerers’ job is indeed to protect them..

CHANGE OF HEART.

𝐆. 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 — 夏油傑 ⋅ fem reader

NOTE: idk how 3.4k words happened 🤷‍♀️ i just got rlly into this idea ty for your requesttt!! and i'm so sorry if u didn't want smut but the scene kinda just happened 😭 it's pretty vanilla tho i think?? i put a little forewarning before the scene just in case u strictly don't want to read it

🔞 mdni / 18+ content

SUMMARY — Meeting you challenges the beliefs he thought he was so sure of. Unexpectedly falling in love with a 'monkey' causes Geto Suguru to have a change of heart.

WARNINGS — not proofread 😵‍💫 angst, 1 smut scene, lmk if i have missed a warning thank u

SMUT WARNINGS — solo scene in the shower, Geto fantasizing about you (bj, creampies)

WORDCOUNT ≈ 3.4k

PLAY ME ♪ black beauty

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

A question that springs to Geto Suguru’s mind when he meets you is where have you been all my life? Because if he would have met you sooner, his beliefs wouldn’t have solidified.

You’re talking animatedly about your passions over a steaming beverage, sitting opposite this dark-haired man. His features are brooding and he’s rather unapproachable, or so he thinks – but you find gentleness and calmness in his face; the way his brows have a subtle, sad arch to them, the way the sharpness of his eyes contrasts beautifully to the softness of his cheeks. He’s always loathed his beady eyes and babyish cheeks, so it’s a pleasant shock to hear you flippantly compliment them.

“Why did you come to sit with me?” he asks curiously, fingertip caressing the rim of the ceramic coffee cup.

You think for a second, then speak your mind, “You looked approachable.”

Such an unexpected response. He’s intrigued. How could you possibly think he is approachable? He’s sure that if you’d known what he’s done, you’d never say that – you’d never sit for coffee with him at this cafe.

“Am I?” he tilts his head at you in response, “That’s a first. Lots of people in my life have told me that I’m unapproachable. And they avoid me.”

“How could anyone avoid you! You’re very – well, sorry if this sounds too forward – but you’re very alluring.”

Suguru arches his brow. Another unexpected response. You’re captivating him the more you speak.

“Thank you.” He responds earnestly, cool soft voice wafting through your chest, “Though that is quite forward.”

He wonders if his subtle teasing tone gets through to you. Your coy smile tells him that it did. He seems very captivated now, his abyssal black eyes are absorbing your features like they’re an artful masterpiece, like an Edo period piece of work that one can’t stop looking at admiringly.

Just when he feels his intrigue and curiosity for you reach its peak, he recoils; he completely shells himself, as if he was ashamed to have let himself become to enraptured by one of them.

There’s a long silence, you don’t notice that his opinion of you has shifted, you don’t even notice the slight scowl tugging at the corners of his lips. Because he masks it well.

“I have to be somewhere.” He excuses vaguely – it’s not uncommon to hear that from someone, so you don’t think much of it.

When talking with you for the past two hours, he seemed so appreciative that you sat with him and held good conversation, so you expected someone as direct as him to voice his thanks. A small thanks for having coffee with me, or a flippant thanks for sitting with me – nothing of the sort comes out of his mouth as he stands to leave.

You notice he only drank a sip of his black coffee this whole time. He must have been very captivated indeed, to not even enjoy his beverage.

It would have been easier to keep thoughts of you at bay had you not said goodbye to him as he left. Hearing your voice chime in his ear casts a spell over his mind.

He walks with his hands sunk deep in his pockets and heads to the subway station. Hesitant footsteps slow at the street where he said his last goodbye to his best friend just a few days ago. For a fleeting moment, Suguru is grateful for the resurgence of that tragic memory, because at least it drove you out of his mind.

But it is indeed just a fleeting moment, because once he descends into the subway station, his mind is refilled with thoughts of you. Your hair color. Your skin color. Your eye color. The clothes you wore. The scent lingering on them. The way you talked. How you spoke to him kindlier than anyone from the world outside Jujutsu High ever has. All he’s known before you is coldness and apprehensiveness.

He wonders, as he boards the train, if you would behave differently knowing that he’s a sorcerer. Knowing that he sees things as morbid as curses with his bare eyes. Knowing that he’s laid waste to a village of people. Knowing that he’s one of the strongest people in the world, and probably the strongest you’ll ever meet in your lifetime – unless you happen to come across Gojo Satoru someday.

He could kill you with a flick of his wrist if he wanted to.

As the train doors shudder shut behind him and he holds onto the dangling handles, he mutters a small “damn it…” under his breath. Because behind those eyes are waning beliefs, ones he was so sure about before you came along.

Suguru’s still thinking about you when he boards off the train and returns home to his apartment at nightfall. The rustling of the key in the door stirs the attention of his two little girls, and once it swings open, they burst with excitement at his arrival.

“We missed you!” they say almost in perfect harmony together.

“Missed you too, angels. Let’s get dinner cooking, hm? Mimiko, why do you have paint all over your cheeks? Ah – Nanako, no more painting for you. Yes, I’m making the rules. Treat your sister nicely and you can paint again.”

Suguru’s mind is temporarily cleared of you – but only temporarily, while he’s scrambling for ingredients around the tiny kitchen and patiently listening to childish chitchat. “No jumping in the kitchen – here, I’ll put you on the countertop – and uppp you go – stay there – Nanako, please don’t eat raw butter, it’s not funny. Give it here. Will you help me please?”

Soon there’s a simmering pot of food on the kotatsu table. There’s a storm coming, the girls cling to Suguru’s legs when he’s doing the dishes. “It’s just a thunderstorm coming, nothing to be afraid of, okay? Yes, I’ll read you to sleep. Nanako, please don’t bite my leg, it’s not funny – Mimiko don’t imitate your sister. Ah you two…”

He has the voice of a stressed-out father.

Droplets of soapy water drip off plates in the drying rack. Thunder rumbles outside the window. The wind swerving into the apartment’s living room feels cold when Suguru emerges from the girl’s bedroom – he heaves a sigh of relief knowing that they ate well and fell asleep soundly.

And it’s so cold in that apartment now.

She would be the warmth in the room.

It’s quiet, too.

Her voice would carry through this hallway like a serenade.

Suguru creeps into the shower, tripping on something the kids left laying around on his way to the bathroom.

⚠️ smut scene in case u want to skip

The drone of shower water fills his ears, he slowly peels off his sweater, giving a glance at the reflection of his physique in the body-length mirror. He’s never looked at his body with so much thought before.

Would she caress my chest like this?

One foot enters the shower, another followers. The door shuts and the glass steams up.

Does her mouth feel as soft as the words that come out of it?

He lets out a low groan. Rivulets of water run down his body.

She’d feel better than my hand. She’d take care of me.

Suguru’s hands trace up his chest and neck, his mind imagining it as your hand – he’s mimicking his imagination, picturing how sensual and gentle your touch would be. Your fingers wouldn’t be calloused like his, they’re small.

He lets himself get completely lost in a fantasy of you and him standing together under the showerhead, bodies close and heating up together. Without realizing, he’s lathering up his body with soap with slow, sensual movements. His hand grazes over his cock, it’s standing up and jumping a little at the thought of your face. Before he knows it, he’s slowly pumping his cock and tilting his head off to the side in pleasure.

Pretty sultry eyes flutter shut and his tip twitches. He squeezes and releases, imagining how you’d tease around. Or maybe you were inexperienced – now that thought gets him excited, it leads his fantasy into another direction. If he could have one night with you, he’d show you exactly what he likes and how he wants you to pleasure him. Maybe one night would turn into multiple nights, or entire weekends spent with him.

He lets out a shaky breath and presses on palm flat against the shower’s tile wall, bowing his head, lips parted with gentle, breathy moans escaping them – but both the sounds of the rainstorm and the shower drown them out.

A murky idea of what you look like naked and wet in the shower is hot on his mind. He rolls his thumb over the tip of his cock, leaving a small trail of soapy bubbles. His shaft’s gotten all lathered up, the sound of squelching barely reaching his ears. It makes him think of how you’d sound when he’s pumping his cock inside of you.

Would you be able to take it all? He looks down at it and contemplates that. How tight would you be? Would he cum boyishly soon if he sunk inside your gummy walls? If he went faster like this, would you become a mess underneath him? Would you want him to cum inside?

He’s a simple man when he’s so close to orgasming right there in his shower, the image of you taking his creampie makes him orgasm.

There’s a gentle rumble of thunder that covers up a loud moan that escapes his throat. He’s never moaned like that before. And he’s never cum so hard before, either – usually it’s a few watery shots of cum, not thick white ropes like this.

Does he feel guilty when cleaning his cum up the shower wall? A little bit.

“Damn it…” he mutters disappointedly.

⚠️ smut scene over

When he wraps a towel around his waist and looks into the mirror at his long hair, he wonders how you ever thought he looked approachable. If anything, he looked intimidating and cold.

That long shower fantasy of you only temporarily sates his mind. Letting his body fall into his bed with a soft thump, he sinks into the mattress. He rolled onto his side and started thinking of you again. This time, he replays everything that happened in those two hours at the café. He replays parts of the conversation like it was his favorite movie, until he fell asleep.

“You’re very alluring.” He thought of those words you said to him.

A subtle smile tugged at his lips.

***

Days pass. Suguru purposefully strides past the café and takes a glimpse into the windows to check if you’re there. When you’re not, he frowns and keeps walking. When you are, his eyes light up ever so slightly and his feet seem to carry him over to you – even though his mind screams at him to stop. This is madness. You’re supposed to be the very thing he hates, but he can’t bring himself to.

Because you’re dreamy. Or at least that’s the effect you have on him.

Each time he sees you at the café, he realizes more and more how weak and clumsy you are. Slowly, those traits become endearing to him. It irks him to feel this growing compulsion to protect you.

The tide of his mind completely turns over when he walks you home one day. A little curse had been clinging to your arm, cruelly giggling with its morbid little face.

How dare you? He eyes it out and watches you obliviously massage your arm, trying to alleviate the tension.

Suguru could have made two possible decisions; exorcise it or leave it. In other words, turn back on his beliefs or recede back into them completely, never to reemerge.

You massage your arm again, and at the moment you turn away from your apartment’s door, Suguru engulfs you in a very random, very soft hug. Widening your eyes, you’re unsure how to reciprocate for a moment. You hear him swallow.

Oh, is he nervous to be hugging me? Does he have a boyish crush on me? That’s unexpected of a mature man like him.

That’s what you’re obliviously thinking.

Suguru stifles a sigh. Part of him wishes you never hugged him back. But he can’t deny the rush he feels through his veins. Your warm, embrace is something he never knew he needed so badly until he got it.

That moment sets him on fire, he feels electric when he walks back home.

“Damn it…” he mutters with a small smirk playing at his lips – one that’s very similar to how he used to smirk with Satoru.

***

Months pass, and you start regularly visiting each other’s apartments. Tokyo is cramped, the word spacious never crosses your mind when you walk into someone else’s home. But Suguru’s apartment felt smaller than the others, because he had two balls of energy running around like chaotic demons. Lovably chaotic demons. Two twin girls, they’re celebrating their fifth birthday and you’re in the kitchen with Suguru baking a cake for them. It was your idea. And though you had to practically drag Suguru by the arm to get him to bake a cake, he was very willing to help out.

Nanako keeps trying to spook you, and you pretend to die of a heart attack – it makes her giggle. Mimiko pretends to be a spider crawling up your back, you also pretend to be scared – and she responds with a cheeky “I’m not actually a spider, I fooled you!”

“Girls, please give Y/n and I some alone time.” Suguru tells them after they become a bit much. Adults can only deal with so much, some relaxation is eagerly sought after.

“Is Y/n gonna be our mommy?” Nanako asks before leaving the kitchen. Her and Mimiko both look at you two expectantly.

Suguru is completely caught off guard by this question, but you laugh.

“Let us be, Nanako.” He speaks without composure, so shaken up and embarrassed. When was the last time he blushed to boyishly?

The twins scamper out the kitchen and into their own little kid’s world, roaming the house as if it was full of secrets they had to discover.

“Sorry, they’re quite outspoken for their ages.” Suguru refuses to look at you anymore, his heart is thumping in his chest. What if you wanted to be their mom? It’s a cute thought that occupies his mind as he talks to you.

“They’re the sweetest.” You sigh adoringly, “Really, the sweetest. It reminds me, had a friend once who ran a kindergarten, and I stood in for her one spring while she was on sick leave. There was this very sweet little boy who followed me around like a puppy. Working there for a little while made me realize how much I want to have kids and a family.” You talk while mixing ingredients into a bowl, stirring up the batter until it’s creamy and smooth.

Suguru’s listening attentively. He’s watching your gentle movements interestedly. Were you gentler in his presence? He wonders what you’re like when you’re annoyed. When you wake up, how cute is your bleary-eyed face?

“You’re good with kids.” Suguru compliments.

“Thank you.” You smile a bit bashfully. “Though, now that I think about it, there was also this kid at that kindergarten that would try to bite me all the time. An absolute menace.”

Suguru lets out a laughing breath through his nose.

“Yeah, Nanako has tried to bite Mimiko many times. The first time it happened, she screamed herself blue and I had absolutely no idea what to do.” Suguru spoke, “By the way, d’you need help – ? M’kay, if you say so. I’m right here. Anyways… she bit her so hard it left a bite mark.”

“Oh yeah, I know what you’re talking about, alright. That sucker left a bite mark on my thigh – I’ve still got the scar.” You tell him.

Suguru’s mind lights up when you so flippantly mention your thigh. He can’t help himself. He’s starting to want more, his whole body craves proximity – that’s why, while you put the cake in the oven, he discretely inches closer to where you stand. Arms crossed over his broad chest, hair up in a neat bun – he only realized just then how you have such a positive effect on him. He hadn’t put such deep care into his appearance since before…

“Suguru? Are you okay?”

“Huh? Yeah. Just thinking.”

“You must have a lot to be thinking about. Your face looks so severe… I want to knead out the severity.” You tease.

He loves the way you speak. He loves the subtle playful teasing you do every now and then, it shows him that you’re getting comfortable around him like he is around you.

“Sorry. I’m just a brooding type.” He smirks at you, shifting his body so that he leans comfortably against the counter.

“What are you brooding on?” you ask him curiously.

It makes his heart lurch that you care, that you’re genuinely curious about what’s going on behind those abyssal black eyes of his.

“I don’t want to bring down the mood.”

“You won’t bring down the mood. What’s on your mind? I’m not the best at advice… in fact I’m shit, but I’m a good listener… so indulge me.��� You encourage him, attempting to hop up on the kitchen countertop to sit comfortably.

His heart feels stabbed and twisted all of a sudden. But he smirks, sees you struggling to climb a countertop, and comes to help you. Big hands grab at the back of your thighs as he leans down, cheek brushing with your cheek for a moment, before he hoists you up himself.

“Thank you.” You smile at him, veiling your nervousness.

His body feels hotter after he pulls away. But he acts coolly, resuming his nonchalant pose of leaning against the countertop with crossed arms.

“I fell out with an old friend.” He begins simply. It’s laughable, saying that out loud – you have no idea of the severity, of the drama. “We were like yin and yang.” He desperately tries to add a layer of depth to give you a better picture.

“Did something happen between the two of you?” you inquire.

Suguru thinks back on that day. “Yeah. We had a disagreement. And… I think… I’ve finally started to regret walking away from him.” He admits.

That admittance unexpectedly makes his throat constrict and his eyes line with tears. He blinks them away quickly.

“Why did you walk away?” you tilt your head.

I wonder what she’d think if I told her every detail.

“We have differing beliefs about… something. I can’t describe it sensibly to you.”

You look at him interestedly. “Beliefs? Like about religion?”

“I guess kind of like that…? Not religion, but something as serious as that.”

“If you regret walking away from him,” you begin, speaking your train of thought, “why don’t you come back to him and tell him that? Or would that be a bad idea? I don’t know… it just seems like you miss whoever this person is.”

You render him speechless and he looks at you like you just unravelled a secret part of him that no one had seen before.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to – ”

“Thank you. I needed to hear that. I think I’ll… uh, give him a call sometime and see him for coffee.” Suguru says decidedly.

Was he really going to do that? Before meeting you, he couldn’t fathom facing Satoru again. It was a mortifying idea. He crushed his best friend’s spirit, how could he face him again?

“Sounds good… you could meet him at the café we go to.” You say.

Suguru’s half lost in thought and staring at the kitchen floor tiles. “Yeah… hey, can I ask you a personal question?”

“Absolutely.”

He chokes up a bit, darting his eyes around, as if searching carefully for his words. When he looks at you, he completely forgets what he was going to ask. His heart is beating like he was just about to confess to his high school sweetheart.

Suguru takes a deep inhale.

“I think the cake is burning.”

“Oh shit!”

***

Satoru scoffs bitterly over his beverage.

“I’m serious, Satoru.”

A pair of striking blue eyes meet abyssal black ones.

“What changed your mind...?” Satoru comments in a softer tone after hearing his old friend call his name so tenderly.

“Something good happened.” Suguru subtly smiles, the memory of meeting you in this same café flashing across his mind.

A silence comes over them, and slowly the tension works out of their air, an understanding replacing it.

“Maybe we are supposed to protect them, after all… damn monkeys, look at ‘em so helpless.” Suguru chuckles, half-joking as he watches a baby start to cry in its mothers arms on the street outside.

© 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄.

[hyunebunx]

💛 w/ felix please!!

˖˙ ᰋ ── 💛- 'a kiss shared during sunset, often romantic and serene'

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff!! the fluffiest kind

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: i loved writing this sm :( it's a little self indulgent but i still hope you'll like it! thank youu for requesting!! <333

Sunsets were your absolute favorite.

It might sound cliché or overrated, but witnessing such mesmerizing beauty whenever you were lucky enough to, genuinely made life worth living to an extent other things didn’t. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder but nobody could deny the one of a kind colors and the bright light that was slowly dimming with every minute that passed weren’t painting one of the most gorgeous pictures of them all. Mother Nature herself was the most talented artist after all, her creations admired all over the world by all sorts of people, even the ones who didn’t have a keen eye for the arts in the first place.

Yet somehow, the sunset was even more dazzling now while you were admiring it with Felix, your one and only who everyone was convinced was related to the sun himself.

Lowering your hands, you let the cheap film camera dangle from your wrist casually, the sand warm under you. “I’ve always loved taking pictures of the sky.”

Felix tears his gaze from the ocean, the warm breeze softly ruffling his long blond hair as he smiles. “I know. You never miss a photo opportunity, wiping out your phone and stopping everything we do to get that perfect shot.”

You return his smile, sheepishly, bumping your shoulder into his. “So, you’ve noticed.”

“Of course I have.” He admits like he couldn’t phantom someone not noticing, leaning closer and staring at you in such a way that had you believing he forgot all about the beautiful view in front for a moment. “Because while you’re busy staring at the sky, my eyes only see you.”

Your eyes widen, heat rushing to your face alarmingly as you finally turn to look at him. Wrong move, because the sight of him takes your breath away, especially since you’re close enough to notice every single detail that made Felix who he was. His freckles were not hiding behind any makeup, spilling all over his cheeks like actual constellations – the ones on his eyelids were always your favorite, having taken too many pictures of them to even count now – plump lips naturally pink and still stretched into a faint smile that only pulled you closer by your heartstrings, tugging at them and never really letting go.

The sun was setting, and there were numerous other couples around enjoying the view and the last days of warmth on the beach, but now you could only see him.

“Now you’re just lying to fluster me.” A giggle escapes you, awkward and shy as the beautiful shades of orange begin caressing his side profile, mesmerizing you.

Felix shakes his head instantly. “Why would I?” His hand finds yours on the sand, intertwining your fingers. “People find beauty in different things. So, while you’re enthralled by the sky and all of its colors, I’m bewitched by you and only you.”

Bewitched, like you were some sort of otherworldly being in his eyes, a piece of art deserved to be hung in a museum in its own separate section, surrounded by security 24/7.

You’ve never doubted Felix’s love for you but at the same time, you had no idea he regarded you so highly, in the same way you did him.

Without a second thought, you lean over and plant a lingering kiss on his cheek, feeling his smile widen before you get the chance to pull away, happiness radiating off of him.

“Sure, the sky is beautiful.” You nod, a little tongue-tied and emotional by his previous statement. “But there’s something I love capturing in pictures even more.”

His brows furrow, turning his whole mind upside down in search of the answer he’s looking for, sure you’ve told him about this before. There was no way he wouldn’t remember.

You reach to smooth out the skin and stop him from stressing. Felix beams in response, catching your fingers and bringing them to his mouth to kiss one by one.

The waves were crashing against the shore, bringing a rare serenity you and Felix could never get enough of as the sun seemed to pause its descent to also witness your love, giving you a few more moments of light.

“The moon?” He tries, thoughtful while bringing your hand to his chest.

You shake your head and almost close the distance between you to whisper. “You.”

Then, you kiss him, tenderly and softly like you’re afraid once you pull back and open your eyes he will disappear like he was nothing more than a fragment of your own imagination. Or a ray of sunshine personified whose time ran out and he needed to hurry home and be among his people, to allow the moon to take front stage.

Felix holds your hands like he feels the same, not believing someone like you was actually real and bothered to give him the time of day.

There is no rush or desperation, just two people who love each other like it wasn’t the first time, like they somehow met before in a past life and were separated by the cruel passing of time. Like soulmates destined to find each other over and over again, guided by the red string of fate that never tore no matter how far apart your paths were, or what obstacles dared to stand in your way.

When you pull away, he chases after you, pecking your lips repeatedly until he’s satisfied. But he doesn’t seem to get enough, deepening the kiss at the last second while pulling you even closer as he wraps an arm around your shoulders to feel you near.

The sun is almost gone when you come back for air, forehead resting against your lover’s as you both break into the biggest smiles, delighted to be together and make even more memories.

And for once in your life, you don’t mind missing a sunset for you found an even more beautiful view. 

[hotchfiles]

hotch "representing the bau" hotchner x activist!reader who won't stand for bullshit

not like actual conflict cause we know hotch is a very principled guy

more like

"shit i can't shitpost about overthrowing the government anymore cause my boyfriend is the government" vibes

you have no idea how deeply i feel about this i've actually posted about this because i'm very much against all cops and he's a literal fed ! but

You met in the most conventional of ways, which makes the whole thing even funnier to the outside person. A bar. You noticed him the moment he walked in, too downright gorgeous to be ignored, you stare at him completely shamelessly and get a few shy awkward smiles in return while he sips on his first drink and talks to his companion, who you later learned was Rossi.

He will find it later on that you're not really up for games, but it takes him by surprise when you approach him, card in hand with your phone number and the red stain of your red lips on the other side. He's immediately smitten, being flirted with so openly at his age does wonders for his ego and he makes sure to text you as soon as he gets back to his apartment.

The texting back and forth goes for hours, a lot of flirting, you're much more outspoken than he is, but still you find him hilarious, you will be telling your friends he's the funny one between you two (none of them will believe you, but you like having this only to yourself as well).

You talk movies, plays, music, favorite drinks and by 2AM he asks you on a date. It’s perfect from the get go. He's flattering, compliments your choice of clothes, says he likes the lipstick (the same you used on the card he is keeping safe on his wallet), takes you to a nice restaurant.

You tell him since you made the very first move, he would have to be the one to kiss you, he argues he sent you the first text so you should be the one to do it, in the end none of you know who took the first move, you're just sure you were the one to unlock your apartment door, stumbling along with him as you two passionately kissed.

It's not common for this to happen for him, he's too much of a gentleman, sleeping with someone on the first date isn't the gentlemanly thing to do, you're not attached to those norms so even if he tried to argue, your lips glued to his neck as you worked on his belt took his mind off of it.

It's not until the next morning that he really notices your place: The types of books you had, some revolutionary art pieces and it's then he realizes he has no idea what you do for a living. Neither did he tell you he was a FBI agent. You two talked long hours and career wasn't even a topic (that may be why you caught his heart so fast).

You were a journalist, a writer, quite proficient and known for your progressive ideals and less than civil protests, so when you both realize the differences and the conflict it might bring, the first instinct was to pull away. Forget the whole thing. It was only one date after all.

It's a matter of days for the realization that being apart won't happen, your thoughts are filled with him and his voice and the way he touched you and Aaron can possibly detail every curve of your body and the way you smelled as if he was still in bed with you.

There's a mutual agreement of public discretion, you can't have your readers knowing you're falling for a fed, nor does the media needs any more reasons to write about the FBI.

His team knows though, and so does Strauss, she had to be warned of the possibility of your name popping up in some lists. She reads half of your writings after that, highlighting stuff you should not be writing about (you won't listen to her on it) and the compromise you make is to keep all of your opposition material completely professional, no tweets, no tiktoks, nothing of the sort with jokes about overthrowing the government.

"Did you... Did you just cite and use one of Stalin's books as a resource here?" He asks, he's in your bed, blue boxer shorts and white t-shirt on, completely comfortable with you already, his reading glasses sit on top of his nose like an old man and he furrows his brows, looking up at you. Aaron's interested in what you write, he truly reads whatever you hand him just to learn more about you, he's not the one to try to censure any of it.

"Well yeah... His writings are the easiest to comprehend on the topic." You shrug, not understanding the tone of his question at first.

"Honey... You can't just... Do you know how many... Forget it. Your editor will love it." His poor attempts to talk you down failing each time he looked over and saw your expectant eyes as his opinion is important to you. You smile at his defeat, taking the papers from his hand and throwing somewhere else in the room, his glasses go to the bedside table and soon you're kissing any of his worries away.

[folkookie97]

❝ every side of you ❞ — jjk

— SUMMARY: ❝Jungkook is a devil when he's fucking you and an angel when he's out of bed. You need his aftercare just like you need his tattooed arm choking you so hard.❞

— PAIRING: dom!jungkook x sub!reader

— TYPE: smut, fluff | non-idol!au, established relationship

— WORD COUNT: 1,201

— WARNINGS: PWP, curse words, rough sex, vaginal sex, choking, spanking, squirting, light dom/sub, degradation kink, mention of safeword, creampie, brief loss of consciousness, aftercare, pet names, dirty talk, unprotected sex, tattooed!jungkook

— NOTES: I'm definitely still freaking out over Jungkook's shirtless live on Weverse.

— RELEASE DATE: July 30, 2023

— CROSSPOSTING: ao3

Jungkook is a rough sex lover. You know better than anyone why this man is the biggest stereotype of a character written by an erotic romance author. No matter the time or place. Jungkook only wants his cock to be inside you.

The sound of your moans is like angelic melodies to him. The expression on your face when you reach the orgasm is more beautiful than any Renaissance art he could admire in a museum.

Jungkook loves having sex with you. Every day and every hour that you both could. Definitely.

For those reasons, you weren't surprised when Jungkook woke you up in the middle of the night for a quick fuck.

Or at least that was the initial idea. But just as he was addicted to feeling your pussy squeezing his cock during each thrust by his hips, you were addicted to the genuine pleasure his tattooed arm gave you during choking play.

“You're a whore, aren't you? You love being choked by me. You love when I don't let you breathe." He laughed listening to the sound of his balls hitting the skin of your ass as the speed of his thrusts increased. "Like it? How do you feel you shitty little bitch?

“So good, Kookie… I love it. You're perfect for me."

Your confession might seem adorable sometimes but Jungkook couldn't tolerate softness within sex. When he pressed his forearm to your throat hard enough to nearly hurt you, you muttered a strangled apology, aware that your mistake had pissed him off.

“That's not what I fucking asked." Jungkook slapped your ass with his free hand, the sight of your swaying ass cheeks causing spasms in his body. Holy shit, he really loved fucking you in doggy style. “I'm asking if you like being treated like the stupid bitch you are. You're my cock slut? My needy and dumb slut?

"Yes!" You moaned louder, the emotion of being degraded taking you closer to an overwhelming orgasm. "Please! Please continue! I'm gonna cum!"

"Such a greedy little bitch..." That snarky laugh came back, this time whispered close to your ear. He bit your right earlobe. "Wanna cum on my cock?"

Each thrust was like a walk in paradise. Or maybe a dance with the devil.

Jungkook understood about your body as well as a conductor could conduct an orchestra. It was no different for you. Your knowledge about the whole essence of his body covered in tattoos was something you acquired very well during all those years together.

So you knew why his hand left the soft piece of your ass to squeeze circles on your clit. He was gonna cum at any moment. He wanted you to cum too. You should cum around him, for him, with him.

"Such a fucking good pussy, holy shit!"

It was impossible for Jungkook not to feel numb from the feel of her pussy squeezing him, nearly crushing his cock because of deep thrusts.

It was like he wanted to break you in half. Hips colliding, his tattooed arm suffocating you, deft fingers rubbing your clit so hard and desperately.

You weren't shocked when an intense burning started at the bottom of your belly. It wasn't the first time that this would happen in a fuck with Jeon Jungkook.

However before you could warn him ahead of time, Jungkook was already increasing not only the speed of his fingers but also the pressure exerted on your clit.

There wasn't much you could do but scream when an orgasm flashed through your mind and a sizable amount of clear liquid squirted from your pussy onto the sheets.

You could hear your name escaping Jungkook's lips in a guttural moan and you could also feel all of his cum filling you in dense charges.

Swearing uttered by your boyfriend and the heat of his cum were the last things you were able to witness before your body gave out from exhaustion and you crashed into the wet bed sheets as you lost consciousness.

Jungkook was always a great boyfriend for you, at these times it was like he was written by Jane Austen. Romanticism was one of the characteristics you most admired about him. He was so soft and affectionate when you two was out of the bedroom.

The aftercare was essential for both of you. It didn't matter what he said or did to you in bed, after sex he became the classic "clingy boyfriend", always worried about you, your body and your mind.

"Are you okay babydoll? You scared me." It was the first thing your brain picked up on when you shook off the blackness of the fainting and opened your eyes.

The second thing you picked up was the fact that Jungkook was lying next to you. Both of you still naked and covered by a different sheet than the one on the bed when you have a squirt.

You might also notice that your skin wasn't as sticky as it used to be. Perhaps throwing it on the side table indicated why.

“I'm already fine, Kookie. Just relax." You failed to smile because you hissed in pain as soon as Jungkook's hands tried to pull you into a hug.

The slight discomfort in your body was enough to make Jungkook's overprotective personality worse; wide eyes and a devastated expression on his face.

"I hurt you babydoll? Why didn't you ask me to stop?"

“You didn't hurt me." It wasn't entirely true. Your skin was already lightly bruised, your throat was burning from the choking and your clit was still sensitive and painful due to the strong stimuli of Jungkook's fingers. However you also loved rough sex and therefore insisted on ensuring how satisfied you were after the situation. “It was perfect, angel. I promise. You know I would use the safeword if we had to."

Jungkook agreed as he hoped in his thoughts that this day would never come. He knew he would hate himself for the rest of his life if he ever hurt you.

“You were perfect babydoll. You're always perfect."

Circling your fingers over the patterns on his arm, you allowed yourself to smile at the praise. It was so sweet and kind. A complete opposite of the Jungkook you witnessed in bed.

You loved both sides of him.

"You like when I wet the sheets and my body slumped onto the mattress like a real doll?"

His cheeks turned red and your playful smile widened noticing his embarrassment.

"Shut up." He teased you in light chuckles. "I really got a worried after cumming seeing you fainting underneath me."

"I bet you got horny first." You teased again and this time he laughed louder rolling his eyes and nodding his head in affirmation.

"Fine! It was really a little hot. But I swear I still was worried."

This time you were the one who nodded.

Cuddling the heat of his chest, your eyelids began to close and the post-sex drowsiness expanded in intensity with each passing second.

“I love you my babydoll. You're perfect."

You chuckled and sealed your lips to the bare skin of his shoulder.

“Love you too, Kookie. Every side of you."

[thedevilspearl]

awkward moments during sex — older brothers

a/n: was in the mood for wholesome smut with humour so here are some awkward moments that happen during sex with the older bros (younger brothers here).

tags: 1.7k words. female reader x lucifer (no warnings), mammon (mention of spanking, getting caught in the act) + leviathan (demon form!levi, double penetration, anal, levi has two dicks). minors do not interact!

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑

“ah! luci—”

your moans fill the room, almost drowning out the sound of classical music hailing from lucifer’s record player. he’s completely lost in the symphonies, suffocating in the way your precious voice sings along with the violins and piano — it’s orchestrated to perfection.

enough for him to not realise that his music of choice for your intimate time is only working in favour for him.

deep groans leave his throat as he loses himself in your body — or the music. at this point, you think he’s more turned on by his favourite classical piece than your writhing body beneath him.

although, the piece of art you’re creating with your body is just as impressive. you have every bit down to the nail. the desperate cries of his name, the trembling of your limbs, the delicate arching of your back.

there’s no way he’d be able to tell you’re faking it, right?

when lucifer proposed a request to play some music during sex, you had no qualms. it actually seemed like a good idea to spice things up in the most lucifer way possible. but you learned the hard way that classical music is the biggest turn off ever.

for you, at least. lucifer seems to be enjoying it.

you’d much rather hear your own voice than the music so with every thrust, you squeal a little louder than before with hope that he would pay more attention to your high–pitched whines than the soft tinkles of piano keys.

“oh, god, lucifer! it feel so good!”

faking an orgasm with luci is the last thing you imagined yourself doing but, in all honesty, you don’t have the heart to tell him to switch off the music. he was so excited to try this; he’s having the time of his life and you play your part to make him feel even better.

he’s close, head buried in the nook of your neck pressing chaste kisses along your skin. rutting slowly, he drags his cock in and out, engraving himself on the walls of your pussy. the dark–haired man finally lifts his head, bringing his lips to yours before inspecting your face.

“mmh, don’t stop, luci…”

but that’s exactly what he does.

“mc, is something the matter?”

“hm?”

holding himself up on shaky elbows, he brushes the hair away from your face and kisses your cheek. “you sound different tonight. what is it?”

“it’s nothing, luci.”

“it’s certainly something, mc. tell me.”

you bite your lip, breathing in his scent. you don’t want to hurt his feelings by telling him, but he seems to have figured it out already. you should have known better than to deceive the man above you, and your silence is telling.

 “are you perhaps… faking?” he asks.

“i’m sorry. i—i didn’t want you to stop.”

“mc, you should always tell me when to stop.” he chides you, but the tenderness he holds in his gaze warms you from the inside.

“i know, but… you were enjoying the music—”

“the music?”

“y—yeah,” you stutter. “i’m not really feeling the music.”

he sighs embarrassedly, dropping his head into your neck once again before chuckling. his whole body rocks against you with awkward laughter and you can’t help but join in.

“mc, you’re pleasure is far more precious to me than music. do you want to continue if i turn it off?”

you pout your lips in thought. “i think i spoiled the mood, luci.”

“nonsense,” his lips turn upwards and he places a kiss to your forehead while slipping you into his arms. “we can always cuddle, can we not?”

𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍

the atmosphere in mammon’s room is usually quite lax — there’s very rarely a need for you to feel tense when you’re with mammon but tonight is different. laid over his lap, his large hand caresses the burning skin of your ass before giving a tight squeeze.

“mammon,” you whine with teary eyes. “please! want you so bad…”

“don’t be so needy,” he smirks and you whine louder because mammon is the last person who should be teasing you about neediness. “i’m having some quality time with your pretty ass.”

he gives your reddened cheeks another quick tap, not as harsh as the previous ones but more remiss. he loosens up a little, allowing your scent to ease his mind and you, too, relax as he massages your throbbing cheeks. you exhale deeply, with a hum escaping your lips as the white–haired demon embraces you.

mammon isn’t one to often punish your body like this but he had a stressful day and you offered for him to take his frustrations out on you. but for now, it seems his burdens are long forgotten because the dark look in his eyes is taken up by his all–familiar starved gaze, like he’s ready to pounce on you at the first sign of movement.

you move in unison; his hands fly to your hips as he scoots up the bed, resting his back on the headboard while you settle above him.

“c’mon, princess. how about ya ride my dick?” mammon suggest with a wink. his cockiness sends a current through your body, reaching every inch of you and igniting fire in you.

“i like the sound of that,” you straddle him, your warm thighs pressing onto his. lining his cock to your entrance, you trace his tip up and down your slit before pushing it through your sopping hole. “fuck…”

mammon moans into your mouth, tongues intertwining in dance you know all to well. he breathes in little gasps and hisses when you drop yourself of him little by little until his raging cock is completely enveloped in your soft, velvety warmth.

it doesn’t take long for you to find a near impossible rhythm, fucking him faster than you’ve ever done anything. you slam your hips down and bounce with all your might, face contorted with the promise of ascending to somewhere only bliss is known. “fuck, i’m so close, ma—”

“mammon! did you take my new figure again?” levi barges into the room, refusing to tear his eyes away from the device in his hand to notice you both naked. your mouth opens to scream at him when asmo enters the room not a second later.

“mc,” he sings. “i thought i’d find you in here. let’s go shopping!”

“i’m a little busy,” you say through gritted teeth, seething with annoyance as your orgasm slips from your grasp. the two brothers finally look up and register the position you and mammon are in.

you think thhis would be the end but more of the brothers enter. all the while, mammon’s cock is buried to the hilt of your pussy.

“hey, have you guys seen mc?” belphie mumbles.

“we’ve been looking for ages. oh, mc… here you are.” beel’s eyes grow wide as they rake over the sight before him.

your entire body turns hot with embarrassment, frozen from the fear of moving or else they’ll see more than what they what can.

“can you at least turn away?” you grumble, dipping your head into mammon’s shoulder, and he barks them, too.

“or maybe, you know, get the fuck out of my room!”

“that’s no way to talk to your brothers.” lucifer’s disappointed voice echoes and he freezes upon entering, seeing what he stumbled upon. the final straw is satan peeking over the shoulder of his eldest brother.

“you guys didn’t tell me there was a watching party.”

“because there isn’t!” you yell, yanking the pillows from underneath mammon and launching them at the brothers. “get out!”

𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍

“fuck, levi,” you moan, grinding your hips over his. “your cocks are so fucking good!”

“mmh,” he hums along; he’s lost far too deeply in your body. it’s a haven for him, one filled with bliss only. one that he never wants to return from.

levi needs to think again before choosing video games over you. he’s a fool to have ever considered the former to be greater than the latter.

no, not when you can show him just how incredible this feeling is. from now on, he will never choose anything other than you, his one and only player.

the symphony of your moans and whines combined fill the room, and nothing cuts through the lustful noises until a playfully tuned ping sounds from behind you. levi stirs in his heavenly trance, but you take his lips in yours, not allowing his computer to distract him.

after all, tonight was all about giving you some well deserved time since he’s so obsessed with his video games. leaning down, you wrap your lips around his nipple, swirling circles around it and relishing in the way his body arches up into you.

his cocks twitch inside of you; you’re full to the brim in both holes and you’ve never felt so good. this degree of pleasure confounds you — there’s no way both you and levi could possibly feel so godly in this world. you're convinced you both died and went to heaven for that is the only realm such pleasure could exist in.

but you’re slowly brought back to reality again when levi’s computer chimes a second time. then a third.

“fuck!” levi jolts into an upright position. “i forgot about the raid!”

“what raid-ah!” you yelp as he jumps to his feet, arms securing you on his waist and you frustratedly wrap your legs around him, ensuring you don’t feel the loss of him inside you.

he plonks down in his gaming chair with you in his lap. wincing from your knees digging into the arm rests, you shift into a more comfortable position before realising levi’s eyes are no longer on you but on the lit up screen behind you. and his hands have left your soft skin, now clicking away on his mouse and keyboard while muttering to himself.

“seriously?! levi, you promised it would just be us tonight!”

“i’m sorry! give me five minutes and we can pick up where we left off.”

scoffing, you send him a deathly glare which goes completely unnoticed as his attention is completely and wholly on the stupid raid. his gaming addiction had proven too strong for you to compete with given that he let it interrupt sex with you. he’s a lost cause now.

“forget it,” you sigh, climbing from his lap but he hisses when the warmth from your pussy and ass escape him.

slender fingers find you immediately, gripping you so you can’t escape. he takes little to no time in placing you on his desk, the raid forgotten in an instant as he slips his cocks back inside of you with desperation.

“i’m sorry,” he groans and presses his hips flush, and your head falls back after finding a new pleasure in this position. a gasp escapes you as he shifts into his demon form and his tail slithers around your waist, locking you in place against him. “don’t go.... please.”

[edmunsonss]

Love Letters to Future Selves

Pairing: Eddie Munson x GN! Reader

Summary: Eddie finds a letter that he was never supposed to read.

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: Swearing, kinda angsty??, it's also overly dramatic and not proofread because I just wrote this in class (sorry professor!).

A/N: I don't know what this is but I had the idea sitting in my lil idea dump, so yeah! I hope you like it :)

•:•.•:•.☾☼☽•:•.•:•.

Air hits your face as you stand there, alone, overlooking the city from your small apartment’s even smaller balcony. Ever since you arrived to New York, standing out on the balcony at night and looking at the lights that illuminate the buildings all around you is something that brought you comfort. Now it’s just a poignant reminder of the decisions that have brought you there.

You still remember the day the letter arrived in the mail. Eddie was there with you, sitting on your bed as you both tried to complete your English Lit assignment. It was one of the first times in your whole High School experience where you could genuinely say homework was enjoyable. Even Eddie seemed to be enjoying it, more involved in a project than you’d ever seen him be.

Your mom called your name, told you there was mail for you, which immediately made you look at Eddie.

“I think I’m going to be sick, Teddy.” You wished it was a joke, but you had genuinely felt your heart fall to your ass at her words. You had been waiting for that letter for months at that point.

“It’s going to be fine,” Eddie reassured, “There’s nothing to worry about, my little valedictorian.”

Eddie had never cared much about school, as demonstrated by the fact that by next fall, he would be a three-time senior at Hawkins High. He would have never imagined that he would end up becoming the biggest nerd in school’s best friend. Life was funny like that sometimes. Now there you were, about to escape Hawkins and go to college while Eddie stayed behind.

“Okay, okay.” You mumbled, anxiously playing with the ring on your finger, “I’ll just go get it before I throw up.”

You ran into the kitchen and basically yanked the letter out of your mother’s grasp. After mumbling out a quick apology, you went back into your room and shut the door behind you.

You stood there for a few seconds, back pressed against the door. It felt as if the purple envelope in your grasp was mocking you, like it knew the letter inside of it would change the course of your life.

“Well, open it!” Eddie laughed and secretly wiped the palm of his hand on his ripped jeans, just as nervous as you were.

“Shit, shit, shit.” You went and sat by his side once again.

“NYU.” He whispered. Your dream school ever since you were a little kid, the dream he had seen you chase for years.

You messily ripped the letter open, blinded by pure excitement. Everything went silent for a few minutes, you swore you even stopped hearing the Metallica record that had been playing.

Eddie read the letter with you, slightly craning his neck to look over your shoulder. The next thing he knew, you were screaming out of pure joy. He barely managed to catch the words admitted… Tisch School of the Arts before you threw the piece of paper into the air.

He treated you to a celebratory dinner that night. With the little money Eddie had, he took you to your favorite diner and let you ramble on and on for hours about everything you would do once you were in New York.

When the time came, Eddie was the one who helped you get settled into the apartment you would be sharing with two of your classmates. He helped you decorate your room and stayed the week before school started. You explored the city together and he made sure to take the subway to Tisch with you every morning until you had it perfectly memorized. You also took him to watch West Side Story and insisted on going to George’s for breakfast, just like your family did when they visited the city. It was probably the most magical week of your life.

Back then, you had been afraid of the distance pulling you apart from each other, but Eddie killed your fear with every call he made and letter he sent. You would even visit each other on holidays and it would almost feel as if nothing had ever changed.

You were still living inside that illusion until about an hour ago. You had just gotten back from class and figured it was a good idea to give Eddie a call before his show at the Hideout, craving to hear his voice. Neither of you had been able to talk over the phone that whole week and all you wanted was to hear how your best friend was doing.

You dialed his house number, which you had memorized as well as if it were your own. What you didn’t expect, was for someone else to pick up the phone on the other side.

“Munson residence,” Spoke a sweet voice. You frowned, what the fuck?

It definitely didn’t sound anything like Eddie’s voice, or Wayne’s. It did sound familiar, but you couldn’t put a face to the voice.

“Hello? Anyone there?” She said after a beat of silence had passed. That’s when it dawned on you. It was Emily Richards.

WHAT THE FUCK? Emily was a cheerleader, one of the nicest ones of the bunch, sure, but that still didn’t explain what she was doing at Eddie’s trailer. It surely wasn’t for one of his deals or she wouldn’t have picked up the phone.

“Uh… Ah… Hi,” You mumbled awkwardly as you anxiously toyed with the telephone cord. You told her your name, “I’m Eddie’s friend.”

“Oh! It’s so nice to finally meet you! Eddie always speaks wonders of you. I’m Emily, his girlfriend.”

You felt your jaw go slack at her words. They almost seemed to repeat themselves in slow motion inside your head… His girlfriend. Panic invaded your mind as jealousy crept into your heart and punctured it with a knife, but why?

It was perfectly fine for Eddie to have a girlfriend, right? Right? Millions of questions swarmed your mind, from thinking why he never told you about her, to wondering where this blinding jealousy came from if you were just friends.

“I think Eddie’s in the shower.” She said, abruptly putting a stop to your train of thoughts, “But I can tell him to call you back if you want.”

“Uh, that’s-that’s alright, I’ll just call him another time. Thank you though… It was nice meeting you.”

You hung up immediately after that. You’ve been out in the balcony ever since, sulking for God-knows-what reason. You fish around your pocket for the clove cigar you know you’ve got somewhere, but before you can even find it, your roommate, Tessa, walks into the apartment.

You turn to greet her, only to find she’s already looking at you with eyebrows raised. A sigh almost escapes past your lips at her expression. Tess hasn’t been your roommate for long, yet she seems to pick up on every time you’ve had a shitty day just by taking a look at you. In your opinion, it’s fucking insane… Slightly scary too.

“Don’t look at me like that! It’s not my fault you chose the balcony as your ‘I’m miserable’ spot.” Tess goes over to your tiny kitchen and you can see her shuffling around until she comes across the box of cookies that has become part of every deep conversation you have with her.

You spend most of the night sitting on the couch, talking about Eddie. Tessa is clearly unaware, but when you stir close to the topic of your jealousy she makes you question everything you thought you already knew about where you stood with Eddie. You still think about it as you lie in bed and stare blankly at the ceiling.

“I don’t understand him,” She had said, “Why would he cheat on you?”

“Cheating? Who said anything about cheating? You do know Eddie and I were never dating, right?” You reply. Tessa raises her eyebrows as she shoots you a questioning look.

“Friends with benefits then?”

“No,” You laugh. “We’re just… really close. I mean, we’ve basically known each other our whole lives. Eddie’s my best friend, nothing more, it’s how it’s always been.”

“Babe, I really don’t want to be pushy here but… does Eddie know he’s just your friend? He’s smitten! I swear he looks at you like the sun shines out of your ass.”

She then asked the question that kept you up the rest of the night, “If you feel nothing for him, why are you this upset over him getting a girlfriend? You can lie to me all you want, but you can’t lie to your own heart.”

You teased her for how cheesy her words sounded, but deep down, the question left you with more doubts than you’d like to admit.

You’re more than aware that there was a time where you did have feelings for Eddie, but a long time has passed since then. Back in your freshman year of High School, you had awkwardly tried to shoot your shot on at least three occasions, only to be turned down every single time.

It hurt at first, but you eventually got over it, because your friendship with Eddie was far more important than your romantic feelings. Yet, there seems to be where the lie is, isn’t it? To think you actually got over it. If that is the truth, then your discovery shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

So, as you lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, you come to the realization that your feelings for Eddie have never gone away. No, you are in love with him. Shit!

The thought startles you out of bed in an instant. A million thoughts buzz around inside your head and you cannot imagine a way in which they will quiet down on their own, so you do what you’re best at, you write.

You sit at your desk for a long time and write out a letter for Eddie. A letter you know he will never read because you find it unfair that you’ve decided to write something like this when it’s already too late. So you just use it to write all the feelings you’ve bottled up for years, then, you bury the letter somewhere inside your closet, never to be found again.

TWO YEARS LATER

Eddie

A smile illuminates Eddie’s face as he listens to the soft purrs of the cat perched on his lap. His fingers comb through her soft fur while his eyes are focused on the TV in front of him.

He’s been trying to keep himself busy until your classes end for the day. There are still a few boxes of stuff waiting to be unpacked, but Eddie wants to get your permission to do so first, knowing the only empty space left in the room is in the closet, which still has some of your stuff.

After Tessa moved out once she graduated and Eddie finished High School, he had moved to New York to help you keep the apartment you loved so much. The salary paid by the bakery wasn’t cutting it anymore and month by month you struggled to gather up enough money to pay rent.

Eddie had gotten himself a job at the bar downtown to help out. You’d insisted on him taking the biggest room and despite his refusal to do so, you had already moved most of your things into Tessa’s old room, claiming it was the least you could do for him after he left so much on pause back in Hawkins just to be with you.

After a while of watching TV, Eddie finally hears you open the door and turns to look at you as you walk in. The cat on his lap jumps down and walks over to you after stretching out her body nonchalantly. Eddie pouts and mumbles a barely audible “Hey… come back.”

Your shoulders sag as you pet her soft fur, then lazily drop your bag by the door and change your shoes. Eddie watches as you head straight for the coffee maker. A big yawm escapes your mouth and you rub your tired eye.

“Hi Teddy,” You turn your attention to him once the coffee starts brewing and offer him a smile, which he gladly returns. He can’t help but think of how adorable you look in your fluffy white sweater and the pair of bunny slipper that are keeping your feet warm. He’s no stranger to this sight, you’ve had more sleepovers than Eddie can count. Yet, the desire to wrap you in his arms and cuddle you is still present.

“I see you’ve met Storm.” You say, looking at the cat brushing her body against your leg.

Eddie straightens up ever so slightly and wiggles his legs like a little kid to stretch them out, “I didn’t know you guys had a cat.”

You laugh, “She’s the neighor’s, actually, but she likes sneaking in through the balcony sometimes. Don’t let her get too close to your hair though, she’ll chew on it.”

“Isn’t that like a sign of love or some shit? Pretty sure Henderson said that once…” You shrug and finally pour yourself a cup of warm coffee.

You cradle the cup on your hands as gently as if it were your most prized possession, “Wouldn’t know, Teddy. Anyway, I’ve got some homework to finish, but feel free to tell me if you need anything. We can go get dinner once I’m done too.”

Eddie hums—basically moans—in delight at the idea of food, already picturing the delicious pizza he’s going to be eating later, “Ugh, yes please. I can’t stop thinking about Joe’s pizza.”

“I told you it was better than Wade’s.”

“Woah! Nothing’s better than Wade’s.”

“Keep lying to yourself. It stopped being good like… years ago, it’s the nostalgia talking.” You argued and picked your backpack back up, making a beeline for your room.

“Hey, sweetheart, before you go. Is it okay if I move some of your stuff out the closet?”

You shrug once more, “Sure, knock yourself out, Eds.”

•:•.•:•.☾☼☽•:•.•:•.

Eddie has spent almost a whole hour organizing the closet and he’s sure it’s only a matter of minutes before he goes utterly insane. He’s never been the biggest fan of cleaning, especially not when the only thing in his mind is what he’ll eat when he’s done.

His dark eyes scan over the next box and he can’t help but let out a deep sigh at what he knows is inside. An “in need of sorting” label is messily written on the side of the cardboard box, which contains some of his records and some things Emily gave him during the months they were together.

It’s been over a year and a half since they broke up and he’s over it, but even then, he isn’t exactly thrilled of having to sort through those things. As much as he likes to deny it, Eddie still feels a slight pang of guilt in his chest when he thinks of her.

He decides to move the last box of your stuff out of the closet instead. It looks small, which makes Eddie assume it mustn't weigh too much, so he picks it up, not putting much care in supporting the box from the bottom.

He quickly realizes his mistake when he picks it up and it is as heavy as if it was filled up with stones. He huffs and watches helplessly as the bottom of the box gives out and all its contents end up scattered on the bedroom floor.

Eddie doesn’t give it much thought before he kneels down and folds de box closed again, securing it with some tape he sees lying around. He starts picking up your stuff and dropping it in the box. It’s mostly school papers, Eddie notices, the weight coming from a few pocket-sized books.

His fingers brush over a folded piece of paper. Eddie doesn’t mean to snoop, but he can’t help but notice that at the top of the pages Dear Eddie is scribbled in your handwriting.

He thinks it’s probably a letter you meant to start but didn’t finish, which wouldn’t be too unusual given how busy you are with school. That’s why it comes as a surprise when he unfolds the paper and sees it’s filled with your writing. The With love at the bottom an indication that you did finish writing it.

Eddie sees no harm in reading it, after all, it’s addressed to him, right? So he plops down on the floor and shimmies around until his back is resting against the bed.

Dear Eddie,

It has always amazed me to think of how much you’ve changed my life. I still remember the day I met you, do you remember it too? You walked into the classroom wearing a shirt that was a few sizes too big for you, fingers tightly holding on to Wayne’s hand. You were so reluctant to let go, but you eventually did and sat on the only empty seat left, which was right next to me. The rest is history.

Eddie smiles as he reads. He remembers that day too. You don’t mention it in your letter, but at the time, you had greeted him with a bright smile, which had reassured him everything would be okay despite everything.

*I hold the memories of every moment we’ve spent together close to my heart. They remind me of how lucky I am to have you in my life. Maybe I’m getting too emotional, but you’ve done so much for me all these years. Like that time I was upset because my parents were going to miss my first play, so you made Wayne, Gareth, Jeff and Grant go with you so I’d have people cheering me on in the audience. Or that other time when I was practically shitting my pants out of nerves a few days before my Tisch interview so you made us go on a road trip to Indianapolis to “*calm my nerves” as you’d said.

There are obviously thousands of other times where you’ve been my knight in shining armor, despite me saying I don’t want one. Truth is, I want one if it’s you behind the armor. Is that a cringy thing to say? Maybe. I don’t know.

I found out about Emily just a few hours ago. I keep wondering why you didn’t tell me about her when I went over to visit for Thanksgiving break. I’m glad you didn’t though, because you can read my expression annoyingly well and I’d be afraid of you finding any traces of dissapointment on it. Keep in mind I’m not disappointed in you for having a girlfriend, it’s great actually! You deserve nothing but happiness because you’re nothing short of an amazing human being, whether you believe it or not. I fear my state of dejection would have been my own fault ‘cause of something I didn’t say.

I feel the need to say it now because I’m stupid and I’m selfish. That’s why I don’t really plan on sending this letter out. I can’t be unfair and burst into your mailbox with my confession right after I’ve found out you have a girlfriend. I just wanted to write this out because I don’t know what else I could possibly do with all this love I feel for you. Which is actually funny if I think about it, because if it were about anything else, I would have already called you so you’d knock some sense into me, but I can’t exactly do that right now, huh? Not when it’s about this. Not when I don’t want you to know.

But yeah, Teddy, I love you. I love you so much more than a friend should. I always share my secrets with you, but I think I’ll keep this one to myself. I’m sure you know already though, I asked you out like three times in freshman year, I wasn’t exactly the most secretive about it back then, huh?

Eddie has to stop reading right then and there, both to collect himself and wonder what the hell it is you’re talking about. Eddie’s sure he’d remember you asking him about because the one thing he’s dreamed of for years is taking you out on a date. He’s always fantasized about how he’d drop you off at home and kiss you on the porch like they did in those boring romance movies you liked. It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried, in fact he had asked you out on several occasions during freshman year too! You rejected him every single time.

Now that he has time to think about it, he comes to the conclusion that all along you’ve just been morons. Two lovesick morons. He figures it’s time to fix it, but first he finishes reading your letter.

Whether you know… or don’t, I’m not sending this letter. Even if I were to, it isn’t cohesive enough, or whatever. My creative writing professor has made me become obsessed with writing everything perfectly, it’s fucking exhausting, not like it matters right now anyway.

I don’t really know what else to say other than: I fucking love you and I hope it’s the only secret I ever keep from you.

With love.

There’s a deep sense of longing in his heart, accompanied by nostalgia as he remembers growing up with you by his side. Eddie wasn’t stupid, he knew just how lucky he was to have you in his life, had never taken it for granted in fact.

In hindsight, a lot of things make sense now that he knows what you felt back them. Eddie can’t help but think of a particular Friday night, the week before Halloween.

Eddie had his eyes on the road, but otherwise, his attention was fully set on you. Hellfire’s yearly Halloween campaign had just finished and, per tradition, he was driving both of you to the trailer so you could have a scary movie marathon.

Ever since the campaign ended, you had been catching him up to what went down during the brief time window where you didn’t see each other that particular day. Much to his dismay, you were telling him about how Christian Adams—some guy from science class—asked you out on a date after first period.

“My first date! Can you believe it?” You shouted over the music playing loudly inside the van, “I’m kinda nervous, Teddy.”

He tapped his fingers on the steering while as he stole a quick glance in your direction, “Who was the date with, again?”

You groan, “Eds! Don’t start falling asleep on me, dude. It’s with Christian Adams, you know-”

“Ah! The idiot who told Harrigan two plus two was five?” A throaty laugh escaped past Eddie’s lips, you rolled your eyes.

“It was stupid, wasn’t it? I thought I’d seen it all when I heard you say Thor was a Greek God.”

“You absolutely cannot compare my honest mistake with that shit! I’m about to be a super senior and even I know basic math.” You guffawed at his comment and shook your head in pure amusement.

Eddie parked the van and you walked into the trailer, still laughing a bit. Wayne, who was sititng on the kitchen counter with a bright blue cup in hand, looked at you.

“Hey, old man,” Eddie greeted his uncle lovingly and gave him a side hug.

“Hi Wayne!” Your best friend gave your hand a gentle tug and gestured to his bedroom.

You playfully swatted his hand away and took a moment to open your backpack and grab the mug that was securely wrapped in layers of newspaper and paper towels. Both men watched with interest as you peeled each layer of paper away to reveal a beautiful mug decorated with a detailed drawing of a deer.

“I got this for you! From Colorado.”

Wayne gave you a small smile, which for someone like him was basically the equivalent of a toothy grin, “Look at that boy, should take notes from them.”

Eddie pouted jokingly at his uncle’s words and turned to look at you, “Where’s my souvenir?”

“It’s in my backpack, Teddy. Shut up.”

“Make me.” You furrowed your brows and turned to look at him, only to find him looking back at you with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“You suck.”

He pulled you towards his bedroom once again and this time you didn’t put up any resistance. Wayne watched it all unfold and sighed, “You kids are going to be the death of me.”

•:•.•:•.☾☼☽•:•.•:•.

You had been in Eddie’s room for almost an hour at that point. Wayne had already gone to work and Eddie was busy writing down something on his DnD notebook.

Your fingers plucked at the strings of his beloved guitar, which you had insisted on not hooking up to the amp.

“So… Why did you say you were nervous for that date?”

“Well, what if he wants to kiss me?!”

“You kiss him back if that’s what you want.”

“I’ve never even kissed anyone before, what if it’s gross? What if I suck?” By that time, you were pacing around the room, Sweetheart long forgotten in Eddie’s bed. This was a topic you had discussed with Eddie countless times, but it was never something that was the cause of actual concern, until that moment.

“I heard somewhere that pretty people are good kissers, so you must be amazing at it.” You stopped dead in your tracks at his words. You knew he was probably kidding, but that didn’t stop you from feeling your cheeks heat up at his compliment.

“Ha. You’re so funny.” You replied in a dry, sarcastic tone. A beat of silence passed before you spoke again, “We could always test that theory though.”

From his expression alone, you knew he couldn’t tell if you were serious—you were… Kinda. You thought that your crush on Eddie wasn’t much of a secret at that point. You’d asked him out when you were younger, but you had never been so direct about it.

There was a glint of mischief in his eyes as he stood up walked towards you. For the first time in years, you felt nervousness crawl into your heart. For as long as you could remember, Eddie had been your safe place, you always found solace in those warm brown eyes of his, yet at that moment, you couldn’t help but wonder if your stupid comment was about to ruin everything.

Eddie’s fingers grazed your face as he cupped your face. He was intimidatingly close by that point. You let your hands wander to the curls that sat right below his shoulders. That naughtiness in his eyes was long gone, replaced by a tender look.

He took that last step needed to close the distance between you. His lips brushed against yours in a timid peck that couldn’t have lasted longer than a few seconds.

The brief contact gave you enough confidence to kiss him one more time. You let him guide you and quickly realized just how correct it felt to have his lips on yours. There was nothing but pure joy in your heart as you enjoyed the feeling of having him close.

Much to your dismay, Eddie eventually pulled away. He said nothing for a few moments that seemed to stretch into eternity. Then, he let out a breathy laugh and spoke, “Well, theory confirmed. That was… wow… you’re totally ready for your date, yup.”

Back then, Eddie had noticed something in your expression shift after the comment he’d made, but you’d left almost immediately after, which left him no time to ask. When you saw him Monday morning, you acted as if nothing had happened and told him all about your date with Christian. He had been hurt, but now he understood how much of an idiot he was for that comment and how he had hurt you too.

In his own defense, Eddie was genuinely convinced that you had no other intention behind your comment. He actually thought you wanted to practice kissing for a date! WHAT A FUCKING IDIOT!

Eddie stands up, doubt planted in his heart like a poison, but he isn’t going to let that stop him, not again. He firmly holds the letter in his hand as he walks down the hallway to where your new room is. His hand trembles as he raises it up to knock.

He doesn’t even need to knock again before you open the door, a confused look on your face, “Since when do you knock?”

“Since, uh, now… I guess.”

You smile at him, “Well,that’s a mi—”

The words die down in your throat and your smile vanishes as you notice what he’s holding.

“Oh.” Is the only thing you manage to say before tears start welling up in your eyes.

Eddie can see your temptation to close the door on his face, but before you can do it, he musters up the courage to speak up, “I found it by accident while cleaning out the closet. Why didn’t you send it?”

Your lip trembles as you find a way to answer his question. “How could I? I had no right. I spent years hearing you talk about how you wished someone would give you a chance to show them you’re so much more than stupid town gossip. I wasn’t going to ruin your chances of that happening, not when you had someone so perfect by your side.”

“I always had—still have someone perfect by my side. You.” Eddie watches as you shake your head and tears start falling freely down your face.

“You can’t say that, Teddy. You can’t give me hope.”

Eddie doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around your body and pull you close, “I never told you why I broke things off with her, did I?”

You shake your head against his chest, “I broke up with her because I kept comparing her to you. I kept hoping to find at least half of what I have with you. I know it’s wrong, but you’ve changed my life. You know every little thing about me and you’ve never loved me any less for it. You care so much about me, about Wayne. It’s you, always been you and I wish I could have had the courage to say that I love you sooner.”

“You love me?”

He cups your face with the same gentleness as he did that one autumn night, “So much more than words can express.”

“Kiss me then.”

“As you wish,” He says with a lopsided smile and lets his lips meet yours.

Eddie feels a heavy weight lift from his chest at the feeling. The kiss is so tender yet full of so much passion, caused by those bottled up feelings you have shared all this time. The way you hold each other makes him feel like you’re both trying to say every feeling to that single kiss, and it’s truly magical.

When you pull away, Eddie is met by a sweet smile and your kind eyes, “I love you to.”

It’s a funny thing how everything has played out, or at least it is to Eddie. For two people who understand and share things with each other, you’ve sucked at sharing one of the most importat things of all. That you love each other. For this reason, Eddie can’t wait to make up for all the time he didn’t spend showing you how much he loved you.