#i never want to draw in this style again this took SO LONG

[undy1ngumbrage]

Fallen Angel

reference under the cut

[hoshifighting]

ask translation: today's rant, girls, i can't get it out of my head that jeonghan is totally that "friend" who sends you a message a second after you remove the @ of your last relationship from your bio. "baby, I saw that you deleted his @, did something happen? Is everything okay? you know you can talk about anything with your hannie, right?" "wow, what an jerk, do you want to come over today, princess?" WARNINGS: smut, fingering, doggy-style, friend!jeonghan, recent break-up

PORTUGUESE VERSION

it’s a matter of seconds. you barely take his @ out of your bio, and the “ding” from your phone already notifies you. guess who? that’s right—jeonghan. and you know exactly what he’s going to say before you even open the message. it’s almost automatic; his timing is so damn perfect that you almost think he’s been stalking your profile, waiting for the smallest slip-up, a little sign.

“hey, baby,” he starts, casual as ever, “saw you took his name out of your bio… something happened?” you read it and can practically see his smug little smile while he’s typing, just loving the drama. “tsk, motherfucker,” you mutter to yourself, but you’re laughing. then he follows up: “you know you can tell your hannie anything, right?”

you roll your eyes, but ignoring him? impossible. the next message doesn’t even let you hesitate.

“god, what an idiot. wanna come over tonight, princess? got that wine you love…”

and there he’s got you. he knows it. he knows that the “heart-to-heart” is just a flimsy excuse, you know what he wants, and that “motherfucker” you muttered? already forgotten. the worst part is you don’t even resist. you’re already texting back before you can think twice:

“give me fifteen. actually have the wine, or i’m out,” you shoot back, adding that little side-eye emoji he always teases you for.

not even five seconds later, he replies: “bet.”

at his place, things start slow—he hands you the glass and goes, “spill it all, babe.” you actually try talking about your ex, maybe add some drama for effect… but he cuts you off, saying he doesn’t wanna hear about that “loser,” and before you know it, the conversation’s become something else entirely. he teases you, like always, and it doesn’t take long before that “friendly” vibe slips into something much more serious.

the wine might as well have gone straight between your legs. minutes later, jeonghan’s there, face buried between your thighs, his mouth working over the wet clit while he keeps his eyes locked on yours. he makes it look like an art form, taking his time, slow, drawing you out more and more—and you, impatient as hell, nearly losing it every time he stops just to throw in some little comment. he lifts his head slightly, lips glistening, with that smug glint in his eye.

“how could he lose you, huh?” he’s not actually asking; he just wants to see you needier. you press your thighs against him, trying to make him shut up and eat you out, but he just laughs, naughty.

“god, you’re so impatient, knew you’d be like this…” he knows exactly the effect he has on you.

you let out a frustrated moan, and he laughs again—he’s clearly feeding off this. “relax, princess, not gonna leave you hanging.” he says it, but he doesn’t speed up. you’re practically begging by the time he finally decides to quit playing games.

he fucks you so good that if you’d known it would always be like this with him, the idea of dating anyone but jeonghan would’ve never even crossed your mind.

he’s got you on all fours on his couch, no mercy, thrusting deep with that thick cock, your cries coming out rough and strained, head tilted back as he holds nothing back, fingers gripping your hair just to make you scream his name louder. the angle leaves your gasps sounding suffered, desperate.

jeonghan, obviously, is eating this up. he notices when you’re already dripping all over his couch, and just to make it even worse, he gathers up that little drip and rubs it right on your sensitive clit, making you melt like jelly, your body going limp on his couch until he eases his grip on your hair so he doesn’t hurt you.

he moans shamelessly, the sound probably even louder than yours, and it catches you off guard. he doesn’t hold back, telling you how long he’s wanted this, how many times he’s dreamed about fucking you exactly like this.

“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this pretty pussy, baby…” he whispers, and you feel that delicious shiver on the back of your neck. “if you hadn’t picked that dumbass… we could’ve been fucking like this ages ago.”

he thrusts deeper, but moving slower, just so you can feel every inch as he murmurs in your ear. his touch is firm, fingers gliding down to squeeze that sensitive spot, giving it a playful pinch just to watch you shiver, rolling your eyes as you gasp out his name.

“this is what you wanted, princess? gonna appear here on my place, begging for my cock again.. and im going to give you what you want... always.”

[shapelytimber]

Girls girls girls

First recap was ok, but I'm in the mood to draw characters and I wanted to do a proper lineup/height charts (and then promptly drew maul in heels and Padmé on tiptoe..... I am a genius)

[COMMISSIONS]

[PART 1] - [PART 2] - [PART 3]

Rambling below vvv

It's always so temping to dress maul in white, and I once again caved kflodkd

Also ! I always draw her pre tpm, because it's a) the time in her life when I see her wear silly/'extravagant' outfits the most (can't really do that when you're a half dead giant spider eating rats in a garbage world fkldodi and after *that* I don't think her spirit is really into accessorizing and wearing cute fits- still a slut tho) and b) mechanical limbs are hard to draw and a pain to render (one day I will draw her old I swear !)- but ! All this to say : she stay "small" even after getting bisected ! The bones are staying in the pussy !! Let her be short, then a spider, then short once again but this time with cool metal legs :)

I usually draw Padme all serious, but she can't be all business like when frolicking in a field with her dumbass girlfriend and I think drawing her silly healed a bit of my soul <3 (also took liberties with the yellow dress design- wanted to make it a bit my own and I kind of hate the original faded yellow ngl)

For Obiwan and Anakin, I wanted them in civilian clothing because Jedi outfits are a bit boring (for what I'm doing here)- but I also wanted to stay in the same color scheme as their Jedi's outfit (and I ended up swaping them because I wanted to see obiwan dressed in black kxkdldk). I am very proud of Obiwan's outfit !! I think it fits her, while staying relatively in character :D and next to her you get no rizz butch anakin :)))

I'm having a lot of fun making these :D even if this rendering style takes so fucking long- next up is either Palpatine, Vader, Dooku, boba fett or leia, han, lando, chewie (and maybe luke, we'll see)

PS : I have never watched the 3D clone war show, this is mostly based on the movies :)

[abby-howard]

I'm going to be asking a lot of artists I follow this question, but how did you develop your style? It SEEMS like most people find their style and stick with it forever, just making improvements and iterations. I tend to work in a lot of different styles because I enjoy doing that, though I know there are things I gravitate towards as well. But I wonder what your journey was and how you got feedback and improved while staying true to what you enjoyed?

Hi there!

I definitely wouldn't say that I've found my style and stuck with it forever-- I feel like each of my projects has asked for a certain kind of art, and has presented new challenges that push me in new directions.

Some of that comes from seeing someone else's work and having something click into place that might fix errors/faults in my own, and then I might try to incorporate that, such as bigger outlines on my characters to help distinguish them from the background, or maybe a way someone else simplifies eyes that can help make mine look less weird.

When I first started drawing, I can see where I encountered certain influences because my sketchbooks suddenly switch to incorporating some new stylistic element that I liked from whatever I was reading/watching at the time. But it was never QUITE right, it was never just copying, there was always something ~wrong~ with it. And that wrongness was my style! As much as I hated it, that was what distinguished my art from being just a copy of someone else's. I hate it less now, and understand that other people see something there that maybe I don't, because it's just what happens when I filter other people's work through my head. My soul, if you will.

There are definitely through-lines with my work, driven by what I like drawing and what comes easily to me-- hatching is almost always a major component, and I like making expressive characters. Here's some of my earliest available stuff, from my old webcomic:

Then not long after that, I started The Last Halloween, which pushed me to challenge myself in both layout and style:

And here's the same comic, years later:

And here's a series I did for kids, where I had to use full color and lay off on the hatching, as well as learn how to reconstruct animals that we have no photo references for, which is definitely a place where style comes majorly into play, whether I wanted it to or not:

Then there was the horror book I did, where I tried to push my work to be less cartoony overall, and to work very hard on improving my hatching:

Then I started work on Scarlet Hollow, where I incorporated a limited/muted palette and had to once again push myself to make less-cartoony art, as well as learn more consistency so I could draw sprite sets. This was a big challenge for me, and has helped me grow as an artist so much!

And most recently, I wrapped up work on Slay the Princess, which required that I go back in the cartoony direction, but in a very different way than I was used to. This took a lot of sketching to figure out, and there's still a decent amount of artistic stumbling in Chapter 1 while I settled into it.

She's drawing on anime/Disney influence, but each Princess required a bit of stylistic variability. Some are more anime, while some are more realistic than even the Scarlet Hollow characters.

So I wouldn't worry too much, honestly! A person's style is often something that reveals itself over the course of their career, rather than something they choose and then try to stick to forever.

Even if you don't think you have a style, you do. It might vary a lot piece by piece, especially if you're trying to closely imitate another person's art, but the more work you do, the more you'll figure out your own strengths and interests!

[b14augrana]

Hello , can I request barca x teen reader who loves to play prank and is the Clown of the team but is a very good player and Ballon d'or potential

The Fool

Beyond the jester of a girl that taunts her Barcelona teammates with endless pranks is a world class player that shines on the pitch

Barça Femení x teen!reader

masterlist

Warnings: ✖️

A/N: thank you anon for the request! this is kinda messy and a bit short but i think it does the job. im sorry this took so long for me to write, i hope you like it 💝💝

“(Y/N), hijo de puta!” Mapi screams, looking up to see your head sticking out over the top of the shower cubicle, pouring shampoo on her head. For the last 10 minutes, she’s furiously been trying to wash all the shampoo out of her hair, but it just isn’t coming out. Now she realises why.

Mapi grumbles and finally rinses the last of the shampoo out of her hair, cursing you under her breath with the slightest of smiles. You skid out of the locker room, abandoning the shampoo bottle and laughing to yourself in the halls. You can hear Patri’s laughter ringing from the showers as well, and it makes you smile.

Clowning around is your love language… in a way. It’s your form of putting time and energy into something special. To you, laughter is something special, and if you didn’t love your teammates, you wouldn’t be trying so hard to give them something to enjoy.

It’s your natural personality. You’re unserious, always joking around and having fun, and it is only normal for someone your age. As a teenager, all you want to do is have fun while doing what you love most; playing football.

You‘re damn good at both of those things.

El Clásicos are your favourite matchups. Every season, you look forward to it. Since you bleed blaugrana in every shape and form, you feel like it’s your duty to give the Real Madrid back line something to worry about. You want to be the one to sort them out… for the 16th time. Literally.

When you aren’t troubling your teammates with tricks, you’re troubling defenders.

It‘s kinda your thing.

One through ball from Aitana is all it takes. Your legs feel detached from your body, your strikes at the ground uprooting the grass wherever you step.

And the open space ahead is basically beckoning you in to occupy the green void, which you do.

The space beyond is as much of a blessing to you as it is a curse to the likes of Rocio and Andres.

Rocio and Andres should’ve learnt by now that their old school habit of holding you off will never work. You aren’t being stalled, you’re being invited in. The more you threaten them with small feints and sharp movements that make them twitch, the closer they draw you in to the goal until…

That satisfying swish of the net follows the sound of your foot making hard contact with the ball.

Rocio and Andres should’ve learnt by now that their old school habit of holding you off will never work.

You’re good at your position. You take your game seriously. That’s what surprises everyone the most.

Off the field, you’re regarded as ‘el embaucadora’, the trickster. You’re always pulling pranks, making jokes, finding fun in everything or making it yourself.

Even on the field, you’re no less of a trickster, but it’s less of the pranks and more of your deceptive play style and ability to make defenders dance.

When you play, you perform. To you, any pitch lit up by lights is a place in which your playing becomes poetry with the opportunity to engrave itself in the essence of the stadium, becoming your legacy.

The whistle blows, and you’re off again. The ball finds you again and it feels so right at your feet that every moment feels like you’re on autopilot.

And it finds the goal too fast for you to enjoy, because before you know it you’re walking off the pitch feeling uncomfortably sweaty beyond the swell of victory in your heart.

Alexia looks at you from a distance, the hints of a smile visible on her face, because she knows where hypnotising flair like yours gets you.

Somewhere in France, perhaps?

[rosyrosethings]

Man Eater/Siren Y/n.

Y/n is a the girl every man desires and Harry can't resist her.

Disclaimer: I feel like a lot of writers make Y/n a little insecure girl and I know everyone has insecurities. But idk about yall but I feel like the I can have any man I want(sometimes) so I really enjoyed writing this. Hope you guys like it.

Warning: smut, cheating, sub harry, dom reader

4.5k words

Harry stood by the drink table, swirling the ice in his glass as he half-listened to Dan go on about his latest project. His mind was elsewhere, drifting back to Jane, who had opted to stay behind, nursing a cold. She'd insisted he go without her, to enjoy Mitch's birthday, to relax.

But relaxing had been impossible the moment he felt it—her presence. His body had sensed Y/N before his eyes had. A wave of heat and energy swept over him, tightening his chest, and without even thinking, he glanced toward the entrance.

There she was.

The woman he thought he had moved on from, the one who could ensnare any man with just a look—Y/N. Her dark skin seemed to shimmer under the dim party lights, her long legs accentuated by a dangerously short skirt. Her hair cascaded effortlessly down her back, swaying as she moved through the room, her smile dazzling as she greeted familiar faces.

"Harry? You okay, mate?" Dan’s voice snapped him out of his trance.

Harry blinked, turning his head sharply. "What?"

Dan chuckled, following Harry's gaze. "Oh, yeah... beautiful, isn't she?" That was the effect she had on men. Sometimes Harry wished he never met her. The power she held over him was unreal. Even Dan calling her beautiful had him feeling a bit possessive   

Harry gritted his teeth, feeling his heart race as Y/N hugged and mingled with the guests. Her laugh floated through the air, and Harry swore he could feel it wrapping around him like a spell.

"Excuse me," Harry muttered to Dan before heading for the bathroom. He locked the door behind him and leaned against the sink, gripping the porcelain edges tightly. His reflection stared back at him, his jaw clenched. Get it together, Styles, he thought. Don’t let her lure you in again.

It had been months since they last saw each other, months since they last… messed around. He would text her, no response for hours even days but whenever she texted him. He would respond immediately. If she called for him he would jump.

Jane was everything stable, safe. But Y/N? She was wild, unpredictable. A siren, pulling him deeper whenever she was near.

He took a deep breath, splashing cold water on his face. He couldn't let himself get caught in her orbit again. Not tonight.

When he finally left the bathroom, the air felt charged, his skin tingling with anticipation. He weaved through the crowd, heading straight for Mitch. He needed something—anything—to distract him.

"Mitch, mate, happy birthday!" Harry exclaimed, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

"Thanks, man! Glad you made it," Mitch replied, smiling.

They chatted easily, Harry grateful for the reprieve, until—

“Happy Birthday, Mitchell!" a familiar voice cut through the conversation.

Harry froze.

He turned just in time to see Y/N wrapping her arms around Mitch in a tight hug, her voice sweet as honey. She was the only person who called him Mitchell, a nickname she'd coined ages ago. Mitch didn't seem to mind; in fact, his grin widened as he hugged her back.

"Thanks, Y/N," Mitch said with a chuckle, patting her on the back.

"I got your gift. It's over on the table," she said, pointing behind her. "Didn’t know where else to put it."

Mitch barely had time to respond before someone else called his name from across the room. "Sorry, guys," he said, excusing himself. Sending Harry a sympathetic look before walking away.

And then, it was just Harry and Y/N.

"Look who it is," Y/N said, her voice dripping with playful mischief, her eyes sparkling as she smiled at him.

Harry felt a lump form in his throat, her gaze drawing him in like it always did. She tilted her head slightly, as if daring him to speak.

But he couldn’t move. Not yet. The memories of their last night together—the heat, the tension, the way her touch lingered far longer than it should have—flooded his mind, clouding his judgment.

"Long time, no see," she said, stepping closer, her presence commanding all his attention.

Harry swallowed hard, trying to muster the willpower not to fall under her spell again. But the pull was undeniable. She was electric, like pure fire, and he, once again, was the moth drawn to her irresistible flame.

He forced a smirk, trying to seem casual despite the chaos swirling inside him. "Didn’t think I’d see you tonight. Thought you were off traveling."

She shrugged, her smile lazy and seductive, never wavering. "I was. But Mitch's birthday is special, you know? And besides… I always find my way back."

Her words lingered between them, heavy with a meaning he couldn’t ignore.

"Where’s that little girlfriend of yours?" she asked, her voice soft but pointed, her gaze locking onto his. Every time their eyes met, it was as though her power seeped into him, coiling around his thoughts. He could feel the familiar tug, the way she seemed to unravel him with just a glance.

So he looked away, pretending to scan the room.

"Jane couldn’t make it," Harry said, clearing his throat, the weight of her name like an anchor tethering him to some semblance of control. He hoped it would be enough to ground him.

Y/N’s smile faltered, but only for a fraction of a second, something darker flickering behind her eyes. She stepped closer, leaning in just enough for her voice to lower, teasing him. "Shame. I guess it’s just us, then."

His heart pounded, the sound of it deafening in his ears. He kept his eyes fixed on the crowd, avoiding her like he was running from a storm he couldn’t outrun.

"Uhh… so, how are things?" he asked, his voice dry and brittle. It was the only thing he could think to say, a flimsy attempt to steer the conversation away from dangerous waters.

"Things are okay," she replied softly, her tone suddenly casual, as if the tension between them hadn’t just spiked. "I’ve been around the world, but I think I’m staying put for a while."

There was something about the way she said it that made Harry’s stomach twist. He was about to respond when her voice dropped, the concern in it almost unnerving. "Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

Her question threw him off balance, her concern cutting through the haze in his mind. "Just a bit parched. I’m going to grab a drink," he muttered, stepping to the side, desperate to escape her gravitational pull.

But before he could slip away, her hand wrapped around his arm, firm but gentle. The touch was electric, sending a jolt through his body, forcing him to look at her. He met her eyes, and for a moment, he was lost all over again. Maybe a drink could help him relax.

"Can you bring me something, too?" she asked, her voice soft but commanding, her gaze locking him in place.

His breath hitched, his mind spinning. The look in her eyes was hypnotic, and no matter how much he tried to resist, he couldn’t pull away.

"Yea, I can do that." He said, his nerves getting the best of him. He made his way to Mitch kitchen. Quickly grabbing him some water to help deal with the tension he could feel building. He looked over to see look at her again. Seeing another man already talking to her. His jaw clenched it was no time wasted. It was always like this with Y/n. He could tell that the man was offering her a drink but she denied making eye contact with Harry who was already looking at her. He could see her implying that Harry was getting her a drink. Harry grabbed a glass filling his with scotch. Needing something strong to deal with this. Filling Y/n a can of lemonade. She hated the taste of alcohol. Pouring her lemonade in a cup so she gives off the appearance that she is drinking. Which is what she likes. Harry remembers every detail about her.

Harry made his way back to Y/n. Stepping beside the random man.

"Here you are love." He said with a smile handing her the drink. Adding the 'love' almost like he's claiming his territory. He knew he shouldn't be behaving this way. But he hated how attractive she was.

"Thank you Harry." She said with a smile. The guy looked between them. Taking a hint before walking away. Y/n didn't even notice too focused on her newest victim.

Y/N raised the cup to her lips, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she took a sip. Harry stood beside her, his pulse quickening as the man who had been lingering near her quickly took the hint and left. He wasn’t sure if it was the scotch in his hand or the tension that had been simmering all night, but he felt a surge of possessiveness he couldn’t shake.

"You didn’t have to scare him off, you know," she teased, glancing up at him through her lashes, her voice smooth and low.

Harry raised an eyebrow, forcing a nonchalant smirk. "Scare him off? I didn’t say a word."

"You didn’t have to." She leaned in just slightly, her eyes locking onto his, her lips barely brushing the rim of her cup. "It’s like you claimed me in front of him, Harry. Didn’t think you’d still care that much."

His grip tightened around his glass, his mind spinning as her words hung in the air. He took a sip of his drink, letting the burn of the scotch fuel his response. "I don’t care," he lied, his voice coming out rougher than he intended. "Just didn’t want you to get stuck with some guy who’s not worth your time."

She laughed softly, the sound sending a wave of heat through him. "Is that so? And here I thought I could handle myself." Her eyes sparkled with amusement, but there was something more beneath the surface, something that felt like a challenge.

Harry felt the tension building again, the same magnetic pull between them that he had been fighting all night. He knew he should walk away, keep his distance, but there was something about her that always drew him back in.

"Maybe you can," he said, his voice softer now, his gaze flicking down to her lips. "But it doesn’t hurt to have backup, does it?"

Y/N tilted her head, studying him with a look that made his heart race. "You offering to be my backup now?" she asked, her voice dropping lower, teasing. "I remember a time when you’d jump at the chance."

Harry swallowed, trying to steady himself. "Things change."

"Do they?" She stepped closer, her body brushing against his as she whispered, "Because it feels like nothing’s changed at all."

He felt the heat of her body, the scent of her perfume filling the space between them. His breath caught in his throat, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts, none of which involved Jane or any sense of control.

"You really should stop looking at me like that," he muttered, his voice barely audible.

"Like what?" Y/N asked, feigning innocence, but her eyes betrayed her. She knew exactly what she was doing, and Harry hated how good she was at it.

"Like you know exactly what’s going on in my head," he replied, his voice thick with tension. "Because I’m trying really hard not to—"

"Not to what?" she interrupted, stepping even closer until their faces were just inches apart.

"Not to fall for your game again," he admitted, his voice hushed, almost like a confession.

Y/N smiled, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of his collar. "Who says it's a game?" she whispered, her lips dangerously close to his ear. "Maybe I just missed you."

The words sent a shiver through him, and he couldn’t stop the way his body reacted. His hand instinctively reached out, brushing against her waist, pulling her closer. He was losing the fight, and he knew it.

"I don’t believe you," Harry said, his voice low, but even as the words left his mouth, they felt weak.

She laughed softly, a sound that felt like it wrapped around him, teasing him, pulling him in deeper. "Then don’t," she whispered, her lips brushing against his jaw. "But you’ll stay anyway. You always do."

Harry closed his eyes, his mind screaming at him to stop, to pull away, but he couldn’t. The way her body fit against his, the way her breath felt warm against his skin—it was all too much.

"You’re impossible," he muttered, his voice strained, but his hands were already on her, pulling her closer.

"You love it," she teased, her eyes flicking up to meet his, a challenge dancing in their depths.

For a moment, they stood there, the tension between them crackling like electricity, neither of them willing to break the spell. It was dangerous, playing with fire like this, but Harry couldn’t resist her. He never could.

"I should walk away," he said, though his hands remained firmly on her hips.

"Then why don’t you?" Y/N whispered, her voice sultry and daring as she leaned in, her lips barely brushing his.

Harry's breath hitched, the fire between them burning hotter by the second. He knew he should walk away, but the pull was too strong. "Because you won’t let me."

Y/N smiled, her fingers tangling in his hair as she closed the distance between them, her lips grazing his in a soft, tantalizing kiss. "Exactly," she whispered against his lips, and before he could think, he was kissing her back, their bodies melting into each other like they had been waiting for this moment all night.

The kiss was slow at first, testing the waters, but it quickly deepened, the heat between them rising as all the restraint he had been clinging to shattered. Harry’s hands roamed over her back, pulling her closer as if he couldn’t get enough of her, as if he needed her to breathe.

It was everything he had been trying to resist, and now that he had her in his arms, he didn’t want to stop.

"See?" Y/N murmured against his lips, her voice breathless and full of satisfaction. "I always find my way back."

Harry’s phone buzzed in his pocket, the vibration cutting through the haze of desire that clouded his mind. He broke away from Y/N, breathless, blinking as though he’d just woken from a dream. The air between them still crackled with tension, but the sudden intrusion of reality jolted him back. He glanced down at the screen.

It was Jane.

His heart raced for a different reason now. Guilt settled in his chest as he quickly looked around the room to see if anyone had noticed. But no one was paying attention. The room hummed with casual conversation, and he realized they had tucked themselves into a corner, mostly hidden from view.

"Hold on" he muttered to Y/N, his voice low, his throat tight. He stepped away from her, feeling the weight of her gaze on his back as he moved toward the hallway just outside the bathroom.

He answered the call, forcing his voice to sound steady. "Hey, Jane."

"Hey, baby," Jane’s voice was soft, concerned. "Are you okay? I was just checking in. It’s getting late."

Harry ran a hand through his hair, his pulse still racing. He leaned against the wall, trying to gather himself. "Yeah, I’m fine," he replied, his voice calm despite the chaos swirling in his mind. "I should be home soon."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Harry could feel Y/N’s presence even before he saw her. She had followed him into the hallway, her steps slow and deliberate. His back stiffened, but he didn’t turn around. Not yet. He could hear Jane asking something, but his mind was already distracted.

Y/N didn’t wait for an invitation. She stepped closer, her breath warm against his neck, her fingers grazing the back of his shirt. Harry’s entire body tensed, but before he could react, her lips found his skin, pressing soft, teasing kisses along the side of his neck.

Harry’s grip tightened around the phone, his voice nearly cracking as he tried to focus. "Yeah… I’m still at Mitch’s. Just... just saying goodbye." His words were hurried, clipped, but he tried to keep them even, praying that Jane wouldn’t notice the strain in his voice.

Y/N smiled against his neck, her lips trailing lower, dangerously close to his collarbone. She wasn’t holding back now, her kisses deliberate and slow, her hand sliding around his waist, pulling him back into her orbit. It was intoxicating—the way she knew exactly how to play him, how to unravel him even in the middle of a phone call.

"Are you sure everything’s okay?" Jane asked, her voice tinged with worry. "You sound… off."

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, his breath catching in his throat as Y/N’s teeth grazed his skin, sending a jolt through him. "I’m fine," he forced out, his voice shaky. "Just… just tired. I’ll be home soon, I promise."

Y/N’s soft chuckle was barely audible, but he could feel the satisfaction radiating off her. She was pushing him, testing how far she could go. Her hand slid up his chest, and Harry had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from making a sound.

"Okay," Jane said, clearly still concerned. "I love you, Harry. Drive safe, okay?"

He swallowed hard, guilt crashing over him in waves. "I love you too," he muttered, his voice almost breaking as Y/N’s lips continued to work their way along his neck.

As soon as he hung up, he let out a shaky breath, his head spinning from the intensity of it all. Y/N pulled back slightly, her smirk visible in the dim light of the hallway.

"You’re playing a dangerous game," he whispered as he turned to face her. his voice rough, his heart pounding in his chest.

Y/N’s smile widened, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "You love it," she teased, her voice soft and seductive as she leaned in again, her lips just inches from his ear. "Besides, you didn’t stop me."

Harry’s breath hitched, his body still trembling from the closeness of her. She was right—he hadn’t stopped her. He could’ve, but he didn’t. Instead, he had let her push him further and further, crossing lines he knew he shouldn’t.

"I should go," Harry said, though the words barely held any weight. His body was still on fire from her touch, and despite everything, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. Instead, he did the opposite. His hands slid down to her waist, gripping her tightly, pulling her closer to him, their bodies pressing together as if he needed the contact to breathe.

Y/N tilted her head, her smirk never fading, her eyes gleaming with victory. "You don’t really want that," she whispered, her hands finding their way around his neck, fingers gently brushing the nape. She pulled his face closer, their lips inches apart, her breath warm against his skin.

Her words hung in the air, thick with temptation. Harry felt like he was standing on the edge of something dangerous, teetering between falling back into the same patterns or somehow finding the strength to walk away. His mind screamed at him to stop, to go home to Jane, to salvage what was left of his control.

But Y/N’s pull was too strong. She was too close, too intoxicating.

He looked down at her, his breath shallow, the last threads of his resolve unraveling. He could see the amusement in her eyes, the way she knew exactly what she was doing to him, how she always had the upper hand.

"I hate you," he muttered, though the words held no conviction. His hands tightened around her waist, pulling her even closer until there was no space left between them. His lips hovered near hers, his body betraying everything he was trying to fight.

Y/N laughed softly, her lips grazing his ear, sending another shiver down his spine. "Mmhmm," she hummed back, her voice thick with satisfaction. She knew she had him.

And with that, Harry gave in. He kissed her again, harder this time, his lips crashing against hers as if he couldn’t get enough. There was no hesitation, no holding back, just raw, unfiltered desire. His hands gripped her waist even tighter, pulling her flush against him as they melted into the kiss, the world outside disappearing.

Harry pulled away, looking down at her. He reached behind her opening the door to the bathroom.

"Inside. Now." He said, his voice authoritative. She grabbed him by his collar pulling him in with her. Harry closed the door behind him. Kissing her immediately as she leaned against the sink. The kiss intensified behind closed doors. Harry has missed her mouth so much. She started to unbutton the shirt. Once unbuttoned her hands grazed all over her chest. Harrys lips made it way down her neck. Kissing her neck. All there movements were hungry and desperate. Her top was scoop neck no bra in sight her nipples hard harry pulled down the top revealing her small breast.his hands started pinching her nipples. Getting a small gasp from Y/n. He loved the sound of satisfaction from her. Whenever she gave him the slightest moans. It was more than enough for him.

Her hand slid his chest to the bulge in his trousers. "Ohh you're so hard already. Must have missed me?" She said with a smirk she worked the button of his pants undoing and quickly unzipping the pants before letting them fall to his feet. Once her hand grazed his dick through his briefs he felt like he was going bust right then and there. He quickly picked her up. By her ass putting her on the counter of sink. His lips found hers kissing her hungry as he grinding his bulge against her as he he kissed her. Their tongues exploring each other excessively. Her pleated skirt flipped up against his her. He let out moans. Enjoying every second of her. Grinding against the west spot between his legs. Feeling like a teenage boy who finally was able to touch a woman. He was so eager

"Take my panties off," she panted against his lips. He complied, stepping back and pulling the red lace down her legs over her red heels. leaving her skirt in place. As she took them from him, she held the soaked fabric up to his face; he buried his nose in them, inhaling deeply and savoring the scent of her arousal.

"You missed havent you?" She asked seductively , He nodded. His nose snuffed in the panties. He did miss it. Her scent was his favorite.

"Take them off." She said her hand gesturing to his gray briefs. He nodded pulling his briefs down to his ankles with his pants. He stepped closer to her. His dick grazing against her pussy. A small hiss released from his mouth. She grabbed his dick. Placing right at her entrance before he could push himself in.

"Do you want to fuck me?" She purred as his hardened tip grazed against her entrance. He nodded fervently, unable to form words with the overwhelming need coursing through him. She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Use your words, tired of the nods," she scolded, a hint of arousal lacing her stern tone.

"Yes, please," he pleaded desperately, earning a satisfied smirk from her.

"That's it, my good boy," she cooed, "come on baby."

With a soft sigh and an alluring smirk, she guided him inside her. Harry's eyes rolled back in bliss. He was lost in the ecstasy of Y/n's pleasure, craving nothing but the sweet release that only she could give him.

"My baby, did you miss my warm, wet pussy?" she purred, her hand caressing the back of his neck.

"Mmmhmm," he moaned in response. He grip tightened on his neck,

"Say it with your words," she demanded firmly.

"Yes, I missed it so much," he gasped, closing his eyes in pleasure. He craved this submission to her. Jane was a good partner, but Y/n ignited a fiery passion within him that he could not resist.

"Can your little girlfriend give you the same pleasure that I can?" she taunted with a knowing smirk. He didn't answer, instead thrusting faster and harder into her awaiting body.

"Answer me," she demanded, her grip tightening around his neck as she pinched his nipple with her other hand. The pain shot through him, but it only added to the pleasure.

He mumbled incoherently, desperately trying to answer her question. "She can't," he repeated, his words becoming more and more slurred as he lost himself in the moment. But Y/n just smiled, moving both of her hands to the back of his neck and pulling his forehead towards hers.

"You're such a good boy," she purred, looking deeply into his eyes as their bodies moved together in rhythm. The friction between them was electric, driving them both closer and closer to the edge. Harry could feel himself getting close, his release building within him.

"Are you gonna cum, baby?" Y/n whispered seductively, knowing exactly what effect her words would have on him.

"Yes, please," he groaned, still thrusting deeply inside her.

"Can I cum inside you?" he asked eagerly, desperation evident in his voice.

"Hmm, I don't know," Y/n teased, biting her lip playfully as she continued to move with him. She wanted to draw out this moment, make him beg for release.

"Y/n, please," he begged, his control slipping away from him.

"Tell me who your dick belongs to," she commanded with a sly smirk on her lips. And with that final push, Harry couldn't hold back any longer. He surrendered completely to her, letting out a guttural moan as he finally reached his peak.

The sound of their grunts and heavy breaths filled the room as they moved in perfect rhythm. "Fuckk! It's yours! Only yours!" he said, struggling to maintain a steady pace with his thrusts.

She smiled and whispered, "You can cum." With her lips still connected to his, she felt Harry release inside her, feeling his body shudder in defeat. He collapsed onto her, breathing heavily as he rested his head on her shoulder.

"You're always so good for me, Harry," she said lovingly, running her hand through his hair and placing a soft kiss on his ear. He didn't say anything in response, but the way he held onto her told her all she needed to know.

"Harry, you have to get back to Jane." She said, his dick still resting inside her. Harry's reality sinks back in. What he did. He pulled himself out of her quickly pulling up his pants. She could see the flustered look on his face.

”Harry.” she said placing her red lacet panties in his hand.

"Keep these for the next time I feel like playing with you," she whispered, a sly smile tugging at her lips as she handed him her panties. She casually fixed her hair and applied a fresh coat of lip gloss, her movements slow and deliberate. With one last teasing glance over her shoulder, she left the restroom, now panties-less, leaving Harry standing there, still burning with desire, his mind racing as he watched her disappear.

[grapejuicestyless]

To Love, To Love, To Love

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: You thought you were over him in every way possible, but you can never really kill feelings that strong.

His curls were soft between my fingers, knuckle deep in his hair, pulling out the tangles with each curl of my fingers.

He hummed appreciatively against my chest, his cheek pressed to my body, lips resting heavily between the valley of my breasts. I could feel each breath lingering on my skin, his lip balm smeared on my shirt, one he had bought for me the night before to match.

“They just threw away the entire plot line in the fourth movie, I don’t get it. It’s like everything that made the first three so good was completely ruined for the sake of some extra cash.” Harry mumbled tiredly, pointing at the tv with narrowed eyes.

“This company always does this, can you even be surprised? Every successful franchise always becomes a cash grab for them.”

Harry hummed, and the sound vibrated against my body. It was all so serene between us. A calm after a whirlwind of a few years.

Harry and I had been two wild dogs, chasing after each other’s tails, running in desperate circles yet we ran at the same pace, and we never figured out how to capture what we wanted.

So many nights had been spent crying over the boy, how my heart ached with affection for my best friend, how badly I needed him to want me. I began dressing better for him, and carrying around mints with the hope that maybe the next time I would see him, he would have me.

But I was a dog with a bird at his door, giving him something valuable to myself that it seemed he never wanted.

Harry did the same things. He’d been drowning in his love for his best friend for so long, aching pains in his bones from the waiting for me. He’d never wanted anything more, but the talking from strangers and advice from friends led us astray. How could the other love each other? How could our best friend develop feelings for us? It all seemed so impossible, and the tears drowned us until we flushed out, and our conversations ran dry.

Nobody tells you that even once you move on, those feelings never really leave. Even now, after years of silence that neither of us meant to keep, after we convinced ourselves we flushed away our devotion and joked about how blind we were, with his head on my chest now I feel especially warm in the familiar house.

You can fall out of love with people, but there will always be that lingering feeling of “what if.” A feeling that bubbles until the warmth returns and your situations draw you back into the storm like a riptide pulling you under. Part of me would always love Harry, only now I liked him much more to ever try and be in love with him again.

Silence is much worse than any rejection. The heartache of realizing you lost contact three months deep hurts much worse than any apology for not returning your feelings. It’s like a knife.

We’ve grown now, we’re older, we can control ourselves. We aren’t teenagers who run around kissing the people by the bars, we stay inside and don’t go looking for something that will someday find us. When I complain that I want to kiss someone, to be kissed, he raises his hand eagerly and smiles, declaring he wants to press his lips to mine. But it’s all a joke now, or that’s how I see it.

Maybe to him, it’s not. Maybe when we make jokes about being in love, about the songs he wrote for me in my wake and the tears I shed over him it’s because part of it is still true, maybe we just don’t believe it anymore. Harry once loved me just as hard and true as I once did for him. Though we may not be chasing after one another, I know that part of him still loves me too.

When we’re forty and single, we’ll get married, and we’ll laugh about how long it took us to get together, but for now he lays on my chest and makes fun of some old movies that seemed better when we were kids. He points out the bad green screen that we never caught when we were younger, and his laughter will echo through my bones.

And I’ll soak up every moment with him, because even if we never happened, at least I have him. At least we never became strangers.

[onelastskip]

YIPPEE!!! Introducing my mc from hit visual novel Keyframes by Blank House - Chi Aubade! I wanted to replicate the style and oh my god it took so long, never again, but yeah this is originally Deja's title card thing, sorry my beautiful wife,,, Anyway I'm just going to ramble about this game now- I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!!

there's another one with some more stuff about her, anyway- I've completely fallen in love with this story, the characters, they have my whole heart </3

Ermmm just some thoughts about the game in general it is just so awesome how the character relationships are done, it just feels so rewarding to go back and find some extra dialogue because I'm closer to a different character or something (I'm just assuming that's what it is - i might just be stupid) BUT REGARDLESS! I lauvvv that they're gonna fall in love at different speeds and all that jazz, it's just beautiful. I am actually so excited for the kickstarter I am prepared to eat ice soup to fund the next part OH MY IM SO HYPED!

Side note: Usually I'd change the last names of my ocs but the season names are perfect. Like they legit feel soooo prettiful. I will have to draw fanart for my other mcs- oh my god speaking of the mcs, the personality system is literally?? So genius. Freaking so amazing it felt like a completely different experience. While my fall baby is my og now as a Percy fan I have to say- Summer is crazy. I thiink ii literally wanted to throw my computer across the roomm, he's soooooooooo. I want to throw him agianst the wall. I love him too much. AHH!! I'm so excited to learn more about him PLEASE just a crumb of spoilers, I will stay quiet I swear. It's for playlist purposes, how am I supposed to make a relationship playlist with this shallow level of understanding smh. YIPPEE I'M SO EXCITED FOR THE KICKSTARTER!!!

Just realised i spent this entire time talking about the game instead of my oc hmm guess that means I need to draw more soon >:D Anyway focusing on my visual novel college life is about to destroy my university real life, goodbye goodbye!

[dreemurr-skelememer]

Hello :D

I have been following you for the last year or so (a few days after I got my Tumblr lmao) and I absolutely love your art!

I have been wanting to study your art style for a while but don't really know where to start,,,

Could you please show me a small portion of your art process, if it isn't too much trouble of course. Thank you and have a nice day!

hello. oh my god. this took forever to find.

im sorry it took 2 WHOLE FUCKING MONTHS for me to respond to this but i wanted to put it off until i felt happy with my art process again, so here it is

my fall 2024 rendering tutorial!

(this will be very very long)

FLATS AND WHATEVER YOU WANNA DO WITH LINES GIRL. then make sure to recolor the lineart to better match your base. trust me it helps, bold dark lines are Not your best friend when rendering. wait for that post-rendering

i start off with a doodle or a sketch, and then filling it in with flats and other details such as blush

FIGURE OUT YOUR LIGHT SOURCE. FIGURE IT OUT GIRL YOU CAN DO IT you can make it as simple as possible, make it as big as possible, dont even THINK about the details.........just make it really fucking big so you at least know where the shadows and the light goes THEN add smaller shading details LISTEN TO ME. LISTEN TO ME OKAY!!!!!!!!

my key point with this is for you to learn lighting fundamentals.

it's SOOO ANNOYING but alas......they are all correct. it helps a lot.

one thing i also really want to point out is that i like creating a big shadow shape first before fixing up the little details (such as folds and whatever) because it helps me focus on the way the lighting actually works instead of tunnel vision-ing into making the shading make sense on the clothing.

contact shadows (i dont remember if thats what theyre called okay) theyre fucking ugly because im not actually thinking sorry 💔

okay so basically:

contact shadows (if that's what they're called) are the spots in shading and lighting where light will NEVER hit.

shadows are still influenced by the colors and lights around it (it's why a blue shadow and a yellow shadow feel completely different, despite both being shadows) so it's not always COMPLETELY dark.

BUT! there are small points in shadows where light never hits, and they're almost always super dark or pitch black.

it's hard to explain shadow and light so briefly for a tutorial, but you'll notice it when watching fundamental studies and when trying it out for yourself

YES i unclipped the multiply layer YES its ugly and terrifying but it makes coloring the multiply layer easier okay the colors merged w multiply so now it looks cool and has depth overlaying colors that actually make sense

so basically what i did was color the multiply layer that i used to shade the overall drawing

adding a band of red/orange/yellow around where the light hits, and blue where the shadows get big and wide, gives it a fake ambient occlusion effect in the way that a person would get if they stood under the sun with a clear blue sky

the colors don't have to make sense, especially because i never draw backgrounds, but coloring the shadows really help it give a sense of depth and extra subtle detail and effect that just helps make the painting look nicer

around the end, i also put in colors (in an overlay layer with a low opacity brush) that actually make sense in context of the drawing, which is the lit cigarette and the yellow eyelights

mostly because none of the colors were making sense and i needed to actually make use of the lighting that DOES exist in the drawing lol

adding a muddy golden yellow pin light layer (opacity turned down to like 40-50%) to make the light colors less ugly lol

i SWEAR by the fucking pin light layer style. it's so useful and so so underrated.

i used an almost brown-ish gold color on stop of all the layers, and with the pin light layer, it helped make the bright (almost blue-ish) white colors more warm and more yellow. it just helps make things more warm (something i prefer)

i could probably show what it looks like without adjusting the layer opacity to truly show off what i mean (like in the coming section) but i sadly forgot to do that lol

make a layer on top of your drawing with this color in these ranges YES the drawing is fully merged NO don't be afraid, the base was fucking ugly anyway 💔 make this layer into an exclude/exclusion layer style TRUST turn down your exclusion layer opacity from a range of 10% to 40% literally until you're happy with the contrast and the way the color over the drawing. use your eyeballs. i know you can do it im so proud of you

this is pretty self-explanatory instruction-wise, so i'll go into why i do this instead

i really like art that seems like it has low contrast, with almost mid-gray shading and lines. i don't personally use dark and bold lines and shading, unless i find it necessary for the tone of the piece, so using this method helps lower the contrast of the art and make it look "pleasantly muddy" in the way that it's easier and softer on the eyes.

the inverted blue color also helps makes things warmer!

the exclusion layer style is still a bit of a mystery to me but i really like the effect it gives, even if i don't completely get how it works lol

if you want an alternative method to this, and if you have access to it (because i primarily use sai and sai only),

i absolutely encourage you to play around and experiment with gradient maps.

there are so many out there you can make yourself or even get from others that just give the painting an extra amount of depth and color variation. they're SO fun.

personally, if sai2 gets a gradient map update, it's over for y'all it will literally be so over no one will be able to stop me

then i merged everything and actually adjusted the contrast back up because it was looking too muddy for me 💔 but the color adjustments are still there so all hope is not lost here's a comparison of the adjusted contrast in black and white (adjusted on the left) (newly merged layer without adjusting the contrast on the right)

as you can see, i actually turned the contrast back up (despite talking all about how i liked things with less contrast lol)

i wanted to demonstrate that doing adjustments should be done in moderation, and is why i adjust layer opacity often when making color effects

you are free to play around with colors to help your style, but don't lose your initial idea and colors along the way.

you still need to trust your own colors and intuition!

along with that, i just want to say that it's completely okay to change your mind mid-painting, and it's okay to make somewhat drastic changes.

don't be afraid to change things you don't like or change your mind about certain aspects way later on

that's basically the whole thing of this!!! don't be scared!!!

now im gonna hold your hand when i say this..........but you need to learn how to render by yourself. it seems like i can teach you but i literally can't, because rendering is different on every piece and depending on how clean your base is. i have to render A LOT because of how fucking ugly my sketches are LMAO to simplify it, think of it as obsessively cleaning up every detail you can see, but with a color picker and a clean, hard edged brush. if you have shit lineart, you don't have to redraw it cleanly over and over, just paint over it. that's basically what rendering is

THIS especially is where you need to be brave and stop being scared.

like i said, i can't teach you how to render, and it's something you have to discover yourself because rendering is something that will always be personal to every single piece you make. the way you render on every piece is different.

on one piece, you will barely need to render, and on another, rendering is more than half of your ENTIRE process.

don't be afraid to paint over your old art.

rendering is a process that's both very perfectionist yet also very careless.

find your balance and just go for it.

and then that's it……..u did it………..now yuo know how to paint and render. it's literally just layering shading and lighting knowledge until you think it makes sense and looks okay lol additional note: since i render in only one layer (you don't HAVE to do this, but it'll be harder for you…), i also made slight adjustments with the transform (and liquify, if you have it) tool to make things more proportionate. (i drew the head too big lol)

if you compare the finished piece to the final unrendered base, you can see that a LOT changed, including a bit of subtle proportion adjustment.

particularly, the sleeves changed A LOT (because i really didn't like them)

but it's also over all cleaner and more coherent, instead of having haphazard colors and shading just thrown about.

rendering is when you finally use all 100% of your brain to finalize and figure out where the shading should go, where to clean up your lines, where to ERASE or ADD BACK in lines, and make sure all your colors look coherent.

it's not as intimidating as it seems, i only use a hard edged brush with a little bit of color mixing and my color picker.

it's like dragging and dropping colors to cover up mistakes, it's really quite fun when you get used to it

i wish i could explain it clearer but it's hard to describe without visuals!

i hope this helped, and i hope all my yapping isn't annoying (art as a special interest beloved)

have fun studying and trying to render in my art style!

[aliceintheworld]

PURE ATTRACTION | JJK | TATTOO ARTIST

Pairing: TattooArtistJungkook X NaiveReader

Summary: "I shouldn't be watching a man undressing, especially not from the house next door."

Warning: more religion 😬 depression, Jimin, Taehyung, and Yoongi appear. Jungkook in a towel 💦👅 finally a kiss (things from here happen quickly.) ATTENTION, THIS STORY IS NOT SLOWBURN.

A/N: Guys, I took a while this time for reasons of: laziness and discouragement. I wanted more people to read what I write, but I'm introverted even on the Internet, which leaves me with few alternatives to show my writing to the world. Thinking about it, I'm in trouble. Other than that, only a few days have passed, so everything is fine. Back to the story, everything starts to pick up pace. Just to repeat, the fanfic is not slowburn, so there will be smut in the next chapter. Stay tuned.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 3

I spend the whole week riding an emotional rollercoaster. I find myself visiting my neighbor, Mrs. Jeon, more frequently than usual, and with each visit, our friendship blossoms deeper. She shares stories of her youth, of wild adventures and carefree days when she was my age. Her openness encourages me to share my own experiences–or rather, my lack of them. I recount my first disastrous kiss, confess that I've never been in love, and reveal how my once unshakeable faith in the church has wavered since my father's passing. I feel a weight lift off my shoulders; here, I am free to be imperfect, to be vulnerable, without fear of judgment.

Yet, there's one thing I keep to myself: the incident with her son, Jungkook, and the profound effect he has on me. Throughout all my visits, I never see him again. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I casually ask Mrs. Jeon where he is. She tells me that he moved and rented an apartment to avoid being a burden. He only spent the first night at home after his trip, and I remember that night well–from my window, of course–but I don't mention it. Disappointment settles in me like a stone; I long to see him again, but I focus on his mother instead. Having her to confide in is a relief, a breath of fresh air in my otherwise stifling life.

I patiently wait for her to open up about her own struggles, her depression, but she never does. I worry that I might know something I shouldn't, that perhaps she's not comfortable sharing with me. But I promise myself I'll keep her secret safe, no matter what. Today is Sunday, and I won't visit Mrs. Jeon since I'll see her at church. I'm excited–despite my mother making unnecessary comments and disturbing my peace of mind, I'll have someone to rely on.

I smooth down my dark brown dress, fixing my messy hair. I dab a bit of lipstick on my fingertips and press it onto my lips, careful not to overdo it. The truth is, I enjoy makeup, but I've never learned how to apply it properly. I feel embarrassed drawing attention to myself with bolder colors; after all, people are used to my lack of vanity. I sigh, steeling myself as I head downstairs to meet my mother.

She hasn't stopped talking about Jungkook. Unlike me, who had a good first impression, she despises him. She criticizes everything: his eyebrow piercing, his bold style, his tattoos, even the way he carries himself. I can't help but wonder if she accepted the dinner invitation just to analyze him, searching for flaws that exist only in her mind. She's been friends with Misuk since moving to town, and I want to believe–perhaps naively–that my mother doesn't have ulterior motives.

We arrive at church early, the space quiet with only a few members milling about. My mother drifts away to chat with the older congregation, and I find a seat, taking a deep breath. I scan the room for Mrs. Jeon but I don't see her. Since it's still early, I'm not too worried. I take a moment to read the Bible, reflecting on positive thoughts when I feel a gentle touch on my shoulder. I turn, and there he is–Jungkook, smiling brightly. I frown, almost convinced he's a mirage. Am I daydreaming?

"Hi Y/N, are you okay?" he asks softly, his lips brushing almost against my ear. His intense gaze locks with mine, and I'm relieved to be sitting down; my legs feel weak in his presence.

"Everything's fine," I reply, my eyes dropping to my fingers. I want to engage him, ask about his week, inquire how he's been, but the words stick in my throat. It's as though I can't act normally around him. I take a deep breath, mustering the courage to comment, "I didn't know you attended church."

"I don't," he laughs, amusement dancing in his eyes. And rightly so; considering his clothes–a heavy leather jacket, shaved sides, and a wavy fringe–it's sexy but definitely not what you'd expect at church. "I haven't been since I was a kid."

"Really? Why?" I ask, genuinely curious, my gaze drawn to his eyebrow piercing, oddly captivating.

"I didn't feel welcome," he replies simply. There's no bitterness in his voice, and I understand all too well what he means. My mother, for example, was the first to judge him based on his appearance, and I can only imagine how difficult it is to feel at home in a place where you're not embraced.

"I understand," I say, unsure of what else to add. "So, you came here to give it another shot?"

"No way," he chuckles. "Actually, my mom mentioned you two planned to meet at church today."

"That's true," I confirm.

"Unfortunately, she can't make it today. She's not feeling well."

"Is she okay?" My concern surfaces immediately.

"She's fine, don't worry. Just a headache, and she took some medicine. She'll be better soon," he assures me, his hand lightly touching my shoulder. I can't help but notice how warm and gentle his touch is. I shake my head, trying to divert my thoughts from Jungkook's hands to anything else.

"I'm relieved to hear that," I smile, noticing the church is starting to fill up.

"I'm actually inviting some friends over to my apartment, and I wanted to know if you'd like to join us," he says, brushing his fingertips against his ear, a bit shy. I'm taken aback; I didn't expect this invitation. He wants me to come over with his friends?

"And why?" I ask, surprised. It's been a while since we last saw each other, and we haven't talked much even then.

"I like you. I want you to come so we can have fun."

"If this is some kind of payment, or something like that... you really don't need to." I reply, not believing it. I don't have friends, and the thought that he wants to be with me and the people he likes seems absurd to me.

"It's not that. I'm even a bit offended." He jokes, smiling. "I really want you to come, please."

"Jungkook... I don't know."

"I swear they're nice. Every time I'm in Busan, we hang out. They're trustworthy, I promise."

"I can imagine," I reply, still hesitant. I'd have to leave church, skip the service, and ask my mother for permission to go out with him, and of course, she wouldn't allow it. No way. It's not that I don't want to; I desperately want to spend time with him. That's been on my mind all week. "I don't think it's possible; my mom..."

"I know," he interjects, as if he anticipated my response. "But what if, just this once, you say you are going to my mom's? We could say I'm taking you there when in fact, you're coming to my apartment."

"Are you asking me to lie to my mother in a church?" I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it. He shrugs, grinning.

"God knows it's just once," he replies confidently, pouting slightly. "What do you say? Later, I can take you to my mom's whenever you want, or you can stay at my apartment since I have more than one room. You set the time and conditions."

"Jungkook..." I groan, covering my face with my hands. The thought of lying to my mother, especially to go to a guy's house, sends a wave of anxiety through me. If she finds out, I'll be in big trouble.

"Come on! It'll be fun. I promise," he pleads softly. I can't say no to him, at least not now. I nod, agreeing to the madness.

"Okay, but you're the one who's going to talk to my mom. And if I say I want to leave, you agree. No alcohol because I know you drive. Those are my conditions," I assert, trying to sound firm. He smiles and salutes me, like a soldier receiving orders, and I slowly get up, taking small steps toward my mother. I let Jungkook lead the way, my nerves creeping back as I prepare to tell a lie in this sacred place.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Eunji. Good afternoon, everyone," he greets my mom and the other church members. My mother looks utterly shocked, her eyes nearly popping out of her head as she takes in his appearance.

"Good afternoon, Jungkook," she replies, lacking enthusiasm, her gaze scanning him from head to toe. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to do a favor for my mom," he clarifies, and if I didn't know better, I'd almost believe him. "My mom asked Y/N to keep her company since my dad will be out of town for a few days. I came to pick her up."

"Really?" my mom looks at me, and I don't say anything, just nodding.

"It's true. My dad went to Daegu this weekend, and since my mom hasn't been feeling well, she asked Y/N to spend time with her. If you allow it, of course," he smiles calmly, and I brace myself waiting for my mother's response. I watch her weigh her options, glancing between Jungkook and me for what feels like an eternity before she sighs and nods.

"Alright, that's fine. Is your mom feeling okay?"

"Yes, she's getting better. Can we go now?" he asks, a hint of urgency in his voice.

"Yes, you may go," my mom sighs, placing a hand on her forehead. "It's a shame you're missing the service today, Y/N. Next week, you'll definitely come, okay?"

"Yes, mom, for sure," I agree weakly, clearing my throat and avoiding her gaze, still stunned that she let me go to Jungkook's house. Well, not his house, but is practically the same thing.

"Shall we go, Y/N? My mom is waiting," Jungkook says, raising an eyebrow. I nod, still silent, as we make our way toward the exit.

Some people stare, especially the older members, who seem shocked by Jungkook's appearance–too conservative, in my opinion. Somehow, the situation feels even funnier. Once we're sure no one can see us anymore, I burst into laughter, clutching my stomach. Jungkook chuckles too, exhaling as if he's just finished a tough exam and is finally free.

"Your mom is tough, huh?" he laughs. "I thought she was going to kill me with her eyes."

"Sorry," I say, still giggling a little. "She's like that with everyone."

"Even with you?"

"Even with me," I nod. "What do we do now?"

"Now, we go to my apartment. My friends have the key, so they're probably already there."

"Don't tell me they're all guys," I groan, suddenly anxious. I hadn't considered that he might not have any female friends, and I'd be the only girl at the apartment if that were the case.

"No, relax! I have female friends too. You'll like them," he assures me, walking toward a sleek black car parked across the street. I know nothing about cars, but I can tell this one is expensive. I feel out of place, acutely aware that Jungkook lives in a different world, one that's far removed from my own.

The tension in the car is palpable as we drive. The ride feels like it takes forever, the windows closed, and I'm intoxicated by his scent. I discreetly watch his large hands on the wheel, the way his long fingers tap rhythmically against the leather seat. I have to swallow hard to keep from drooling over him. I'm starving–not for food, but for him. All week, I've yearned to be near him, to touch him. I think I'm suffering from a Jungkook overdose, craving something I haven't even tasted yet.

I ponder whether he's aware of the effect he has on me, but I like to believe he hasn't noticed. It's easier that way. I breathe slowly, attempting to relax in my seat. It takes another ten minutes before Jungkook opens the gate to a condo with a small remote and drives in slowly. His car fits the place perfectly. Everything is stunning and upscale. I glance at my clothes and regret agreeing to come. Why did I say yes? I don't know his friends, and I don't know Jungkook that well, aside from the overwhelming attraction I feel toward him. What do I actually know about him? That he's a tattoo artist from Seoul? That he's rich and hasn't set foot in a church since childhood? I feel like I've walked into a situation that's spiraling out of control.

"Hey, Y/N, are you okay? You went quiet all of a sudden," he asks, concern etched on his face.

"I'm fine. Just feeling a bit strange," I admit.

"Why?"

"I don't know," I confess, omitting my paranoid thoughts. "I always feel like this in new places."

"I get that. I feel that way too," he tells me as we step into the parking elevator. I follow him, digesting this new revelation.

"You seem so confident and social," I comment, genuinely amazed. His big eyes meet mine as the elevator rises, floors passing by in a blur.

"I know, it seems that way. But in reality, I'm quite introverted. I have a small circle of friends and prefer it that way. I just fake it really well," he shares, and I find myself wanting to know more about the person behind the confident exterior.

"Really?" I ask, intrigued.

"Yeah," he nods, his expression earnest.

I try to respond, but the elevator stops on a floor, and Jungkook smiles at me, indicating that this is the right place. I feel one of his hands gently touch my waist, guiding me to a white door. I have to take a deep breath to keep from freaking out, my sweaty, trembling hands hidden in my pocket. I hear different music from the other side of the door before the place fully opens up to us.

"Hey, he's here! Finally, Jungkook!" I hear a male voice. It's a guy around Jungkook's age, I realize as soon as we walk in. His hair is a dark red, and his skin is pale and smooth. It's no surprise that his arms are covered in tattoos, drawings and phrases I can't read so far away. He also watches me closely, smiling warmly.

"Guys, this is YN, the one I told you about," Jungkook introduces me with a smile.

I turn red because there are at least seven people staring at me from head to toe. The apartment is well-kept, with dark wooden furniture. The living room is immaculate, with abstract paintings and photos of Jungkook and his family on the walls. I don't have much time to take everything in as my eyes focus on Jungkook's friends, who are strangers to me so far. Saying they're different from me would be an understatement.

They all have many tattoos and wear dark clothing. I sense an aura of confidence from all of them, but never hostility. It's as if they're very similar to Jungkook, with a completely different exterior from their inner selves. I relax a bit, smiling warmly and putting on my best expression.

"Nice to meet you all," I say, feeling a bit shy. They stand up and smile at me.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Yoongi. That's my girlfriend, Minji," says the red-haired guy, pointing to the woman who just smiles. I offer my hand, feeling his cold skin from the beer bottle he was holding earlier.

"I'm Bora, and this is my boyfriend, Jimin," one of the dark-haired women greets me next, pointing to her boyfriend. They're a good-looking couple, the kind you see in magazines. Jimin has the brightest and most open smile.

"Nice to meet you," I nod.

"I'm Taehyung, but you can call me Tae," one of the guys says, taking a sip of his drink.

"I'm Yoori, Tae's girlfriend. Nice to meet you," she winks, making me laugh.

"And I'm Hayun, the only single one in the group," one of the girls shakes my hand, pulling me into a hug. She kisses my cheek, making her presence increasingly noticeable.

"Hayun, you're only single because you want to be, come on," Bora rolls her eyes. Hayun laughs, grabbing a snack from the coffee table.

"I like being single, except when I'm surrounded by couples. Especially couples like you guys."

"Do you have a boyfriend, Y/N?" Jimin asks. Embarrassed, I shake my head.

"No," I reply. They seem surprised, making noises with their mouths.

"But Jungkook is single too, right?" The guy with dark hair says, drinking his beverage. I thinks his name is Tae, if I remember right.

"And I want to keep that way." Jungkook replys.

"Of course you do." Yoongi laughs along with his friends, rolling his eyes. I remain silent, not understanding the joke. Then Yoongi looks at me and seems to notice my confusion. "Y/N, Jungkook never dates. The only time he tried, it went so wrong that now he doesn’t want to do it again."

"It was a disaster." Yoori adds, as if telling a fictional story. Jungkook rolls his eyes, sighing, but his friend continues: "he’s been avoiding relationships like the devil avoids the cross since then."

"Really?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"It’s not true, Y/N." Jungkook smiles at me. "They’re idiots."

"That’s not a lie." Minji, who had been silent until then, clarifies. "He’s been asked out several times, and he always declines. Women go crazy for him, for some reason."

"I know what the reason is." Jimin laughs mischievously, suggesting something while raising an eyebrow. I turn red when they laugh at the joke. Jungkook doesn’t contest it, too busy eating one of the snacks on the table. "But what about you, Y/N? Have you ever dated before?"

"Never." I reply. They don't look surprised this time.

"So you're like Jungkook, who avoids relationships?" Bora asks with a laugh. I feel Jungkook's eyes on me, watching attentively for my response. I shake my head, feeling awkward.

"No, actually, it's just a lack of options," I clarify, deciding to be honest. I hold my hands together nervously.

"Now you have two options," Yoongi suggests with a chuckle. Minji hits his arm trying to stop him, but he continues: "There's Hayun, since she likes to try out a little bit of everything, like some pussy and shit."

"Oh!" I widen my eyes, shocked, as they laugh even more. It's the first time I've seen someone speak so openly like this. Embarrassed, I look at Hayun, but she doesn't seem to mind the comment, laughing with the others.

"Who would be the other option?" Taehyung asks his friend with his trademark grin.

"Our friend Jungkook, obviously," Yoongi clarifies, and I choke on the answer, coughing uncontrollably.

They laugh even more, watching me nearly suffocate from the joke. Jungkook pats my back, smiling widely. His thumb caresses the skin of my arm, waiting for me to calm down. We're so close that he inadvertently wraps one of his arms around my shoulder. I'm shocked and even more unsettled. For me, physical contact beyond my mom is rare. Hugs, affection... I'm just not used to it.

"Are you okay?" he asks amidst his friends' chatter. I nod, staring at my hands. "Sorry about Yoongi; he always makes these kinds of jokes. He doesn't mean any harm."

"It's fine," I assure him, feeling awkward, unable to look into his eyes. "I actually liked everyone."

"Really?" he asks, bringing his nose close to my hair. My whole body shivers as I realize he's smelling my perfume, giving a satisfied smile when he pulls away. "Good to know."

I stay silent, feeling his warm breath near me. Jungkook removes his arm from my shoulder, but his skin still brushes against mine when he takes off his heavy jacket, leaving him in just a T-shirt. His friends are fun and involve me in the conversation, making me feel comfortable, but the truth is that having Jungkook so close drives me crazy and I can't pay much attention. I wonder how long I'll feel this way about him. Will this strong effect never go away? This is the third time we've met, but something tells me that no matter how many times I see him-be it two times or a thousand-my heart will always race whenever he gets close and smiles at me.

I don't even notice the time passing and only realize it's late when Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung offer to take their girlfriends home, along with Hayun, who complains about not having anyone waiting for her at her apartment. Everyone leaves until only Jungkook and I remain. He promised to take me to his mother's house if I wanted, but I'm hesitant to ask as it's quite likely Mrs. Jeon is already asleep by now.

"Y/N, do you want me to get a towel for you?" Jungkook asks, tidying up the living room. I'm confused, picking up some empty soju bottles his friends drank to throw away.

"What do you mean?"

"You're not going to stay here?" he asks, furrowing his brow.

"Not really?" I laugh, then realize I might have been a bit rude, so I rephrase my response. "I mean, I don't think so. I don't want to be a bother."

"It's no bother. If you want, you can take a shower in my bathroom and sleep in the guest room." He offers with a smile. I bite my lower lip, unsure what to decide. I want to stay here, but it's just him and me now; is it really the right thing to do? It doesn't matter, Y/N. Just for one night.

"Okay then. Do you have a toothbrush, please?"

"Of course I do. Come with me, I'll get the stuff for you to use the bathroom." He calls me with a smile and walks down the long hallway. We pass by a few doors until we reach his room. My throat goes dry as my eyes scan the new space. His bed is large and covered with a dark gray blanket. The walls are white and everything is very organized, with a laptop next to the wardrobe and a fluffy black rug on the floor. His scent is everywhere, almost as if I'm breathing him. I clutch my hands together nervously about being alone with Jungkook in such an intimate space. He reappears after going to the closet, holding a white towel and some cotton clothes.

"You can take a shower in my bathroom while I use the guest one," he says, placing the items in my hands.

"Jungkook, that's not necessary..."

"Don't worry. I want you to be comfortable." He says before I can argue. His satisfied smile makes me not deny it again, happy to receive so much care from him. I just nod, agreeing. "The toothbrush is in the cabinet by the sink, in the package. You can open it, okay?"

"Okay, thank you very much." I smile before he walks down the hallway. I head to the door leading to the bathroom and sneak into the new space. I start thinking Jungkook has no flaws.

The place is as clean as the rest of the apartment, which makes me curious; does he clean everything himself, or does he hire someone to keep it tidy? I slowly take off my dress, grabbing my phone to text my mom and let her know I'm okay. I feel bad for lying, but the night was so good that I can't truly regret it. If I had to lie, to meet these same people, I would do it again. Thinking this surprises me, because just a few hours ago, I didn't think this way. The shower has a strong hot jet of water that massages my whole body, and it's so good that I have to convince myself to finish the shower and put on the clothes, trying to be done before Jungkook.

I brush my teeth quickly, smelling my skin that's still male fragrant with the liquid soap. I smile at myself in the mirror, brushing my hair with my fingers, trying to manage the unwashed strands. I open the bathroom door carefully, trying not to make too much noise and disturb the neighbors at this hour, when I see Jungkook again, this time only in a towel. I hold onto the doorframe, barely able to stand. A voice in my head tells me I shouldn't be watching him naked again and that I should turn around, go back into the bathroom, and pretend nothing happened, but I can't. I simply can't anymore. His muscular, wet back is in my field of vision as he searches for clothes. At that moment, my brain turns to mush and I decide to say what's been stuck in my throat.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" I muster the courage to ask him but I regret it immediately. What the hell am I doing? Jungkook turns slowly and the view from the front is a thousand times better than from the back. His whole body glistens in the light of the room, and his tattoos have never been so vivid. His body is muscular, virile and strong. I gonna lose my mind! Feeling new sensations I've never experienced for anyone before.

"Y/N?" He whispers my name with that soft voice he used when we first met. He doesn't seem surprised or embarrassed, which makes me even more unsettled.

"You're doing this on purpose, Jungkook?" I ask again. I have no idea where I got such courage and I don't know how long it will last. My heart feels like it's going to leap out of my chest. My whole body is on edge and sweating. I feel my hands trembling as I swallow hard. "You're trying something? I mean... you're not wearing clothes again and..."

"What do you think, Y/N?" he retorts suddenly, with a hoarse, deep voice. His eyes wander from my head to toes, as he raises an eyebrow along with his piercing, with a smirk at the corner of his mouth. My legs turn to weak twigs immediately, ready to collapse.

"I-I don't know." I stammer as he takes one step, then two and three, getting closer and closer to me.

"When I arrived from my trip to Busan, on the first day, I was tired and exhausted," he tells me, taking another step. I start to run out of breath, anxious and aroused. My cheeks flush as he speaks more slowly. "All I wanted was to rest and sleep the whole night, but that night I couldn't, not for an hour. Do you know why?"

"N-no..." I moan softly as his chest presses against mine. His warm, wet skin makes contact with mine, and I no longer know where I begin or end, pressed against his body. His pink lips curl into a wicked smile, as if he knows exactly what he's doing to me and it's all intentional. I shiver as his free hand moves up my wrist and grips the back of my neck firmly, making my eyes focus on his mouth and then his dark, deep eyes.

"A woman, next window, taking off all her damn clothes, completely shameless," he growls, pulling my neck closer to his face and pressing his lips to my ear. My spine tingles as I feel his teeth on my earlobe, in a bite that doesn't hurt but damn, it makes me shiver. My body contracts once and twice, and I know exactly what I'm feeling now: desire. The kind I feel occasionally when I try to touch myself alone and can't reach climax. The feeling I only have when I'm alone and confortable in my bed, trying to use my imagination even with the lack of real experience, but this is real, and it is infinitely better than what my mind could create.

"It was an accident, Jung..." I try to say, but my voice doesn't come out. The tip of his nose travels along a sensitive spot behind my ear, one I didn't even know existed, slowly moving down my jawline, discovering new paths. His hand tightens around my waist, keeping me in place, immobile.

"It may be that you didn't notice, Y/N, but I know you were watching me, even while I was undressing, even when you had every opportunity to stop." He argues with a smile, as someone who knows what they're doing and enjoys seeing the result. "And you know what's worse...? The worst thing is knowing the effect you have on me. From the first time I saw you in my house, with your innocent and curious eyes. I can't get you out of my damn head. Your mouth, your scent..."

"J-Jungkook... please." I beg, closing my eyes tightly. And I know what I want. I want him, since the first time I saw him. Since my eyes met his, I desired him so strongly that I couldn't think straight. He pulls away just a little, and I almost moan in a plea for him not to go. He sighs, pressing his forehead to mine.

"Can I kiss you, Y/N?" he asks in a very soft voice, and I nod because, despite all the things I believe in–God, hell, heaven and even my mother–nothing has ever been as adored as Jungkook. Since I met him, inexplicably, I only think about him, like a spell unable to contemplate of any other answer besides yes. I look at his eyes as they travel to my mouth, and I lower mine to his, exhilarated by that pink that only exists in him.

I move closer, my lips almost touching his, feeling the warmth of his breath. "Just kiss me, please." I murmur scared of what I'm doing; temptation clear in every word. And then he does.

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@ane102 @ttipa @joonwater

[arjwrites]

In The Stillness (To Love is To Hurt)- Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: A glimpse into the ways you've impacted Dean.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, brief reference to sexual activity. Fem!Reader <3 (but like barely)

A/N: Hi!!! This story is a product of me wanting to try writing a one shot in the kind of writing style I use in my personal works! I write a lot of poetry and drabbley stuff outside of this blog and I felt like some of it would pair well in a one shot like this, based largely in narration rather than dialogue. I am worried it might veer a little bit too far into poetry territory in a few spots- I want to make sure it retains its clarity. Let me know what you think!

There were very few moments of true stillness in Dean’s life. Part of him was always moving somehow- legs carrying him to and from danger, hands absentmindedly cleaning guns and filling shotgun shells with salt, or perhaps the most restless of them all, his mind, always racing and always bearing the weight of the world. Dean’s brain was a machine, programmed all his life to carry out a list of simple tasks. Follow orders, protect Sammy, kill the monster, save the world. While the true meaning of these functions had changed wildly over the years, they always manifested in the worries that kept him up as he lay in bed at night, or ate at his soul during long, quiet stretches of the road.

There was nothing that could completely shut Dean’s thoughts off. Many of his younger years had been spent with a drink in his hand or a girl on his arm, picking his poison and hoping if he tried it often enough, it would become his antidote. Sure, these things sometimes helped, but only ever briefly- he would always wake in the morning, mind racing, head pounding, and searching for a quick getaway. These things were just another excuse to fill the gaps between cases, to keep from ever being still. 

Dean was always running from the quiet. When there wasn’t a task at hand, there needed to be something to fill the space. If he lingered in his own mind for too long, he would close his eyes and his thoughts would take off, always landing somewhere where Dean should have been better. Somewhere he should’ve cracked the case sooner or saved the day quicker or protected someone- usually Sam- better. And sometimes, he could swear he felt himself strung up in the pit again, all of the suffering ever inflicted upon him concentrated in the knot that formed in his stomach and pulsing through his body via the racing of his heart. But Dean could never let his mind wander that far, because that far was dangerous. So he kept busy, kept compacting the memories and tucking them away in unlabeled boxes in his head in hopes that he would misplace them. Besides, the wars of the world took precedence far above the violence waging in his own head. It made sense to keep busy. 

Dean had been a soldier for years, but the most difficult battle he ever fought was against his own feelings. When you stumbled into his life, magnetic and miraculous, he wasn’t quite sure what to do. He knew if he kept you close, his heart would force him to love you, his duty would force him to protect you, and his fear would force him to bear you as yet another burden. Another person in his life for him to love and to lose. In a desperate act of preservation- both for himself and for you- Dean fought tooth and nail to keep you at bay. He holed himself away at the brink of the darkest corners of his mind. But your warmth and light radiated through the cold world he had made for himself, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. And he couldn’t help but fall. Like much of his life thus far, he had been given no choice in the matter. He felt like you were his destiny. 

Dean didn’t believe in much. He had no faith in religion or philosophy or science or himself. Nothing in his life thus far had ever made him feel at peace with his pain and his mortality. The world was chaotic and terrifying and there was no such true thing as heaven or holy or even good. But then there was you. Dean worshipped you, prayed to you, heard your word like gospel. You were the God he had always denied himself. You made sense of his suffering and lit the path to his salvation. It was always for you.

“To love, is to hurt,” you had told Dean one day, and he had looked back at you as if you had three heads. Though he hummed in tentative response, studying your words and the way your mouth moved to create them, he couldn’t bring himself to agree- and yet, he couldn't ask what you meant. He feared that he wouldn’t like the answer. 

You would say these things to Dean from time to time, sharing tidbits about love, life, things you had learned in your years and carried with you wherever you went. It felt nice to have something to offer to him in exchange for the labor of loving you. His responses were often full of praise and piety as he kissed down your body in a practiced map of places, rhythmically, as if speaking in a secret language that only you two could decode. 

Dean loved you during late nights and early mornings when you were your most peaceful and soft. In these moments he would look outside to see the silent moon or the rising sun, and smile to himself- as if it had been you who hung them there, just for him. Dean loved you on the drive home after finishing a hunt, when he kicked Sam to the back seat just to have you close, to feel your fingers bless his knuckles with your touch as he gripped the gear shift and hummed along with a melody. The lyrics never mattered anymore- to him, every piece of music was a love song he wrote to you. 

Dean would watch you. He took you in like a piece of art- one he had waited in line for years to catch a glimpse of, just to be told that he could take the exhibit home. All the velvet ropes had fallen and the warning signs were painted over. Please, do not touch the art. And so he would. His fingertips would trace over your brushstrokes and he would compliment the artistry, always grateful to have been given a closer look. 

Your gravity was enough to pull him in from wherever he wandered, though he never wandered far if he could help it. It felt as though you were what rooted him to time and space. Early in your relationship, silence was rare, but in times when the two of you would sit and share slices of it like an orange, he swore he could hear the buzzing of your life force. After a while, he could hear his own, too. And eventually, he would revel in the way your energies would harmonize and dance around each other in a well-rehearsed routine, swirling together and swaying to their own silent rhythm- two beings in love and intertwined in their own right. 

He was scared to lose you- of course he was. He would beg for you to stay behind on hunts, or fling himself between you and the monsters you’d encounter. But in some ways, Dean felt you were most likely invincible. You were made of sunlight and stardust, how could anything kill that? And he felt you were too tied into his life to ever lose you- as if he had already peered through a window into his future and seen you in it, waving back at him. You would be there, he didn’t have to worry. It was a feeling that was so strikingly out of his nature that it grabbed hold of him and didn’t let go. He told you about this feeling once, and it comforted and worried you all at the same time. But the next hunt rolled around and he remained your fierce protector, taking on many of the injuries that would’ve befallen you had he not stepped in. As you stitched him up in a peaceful quiet, he mused- 

“I think I’m starting to understand that whole “to love is to hurt” thing. You laughed. Dean beamed. The hunting, the fighting, the saving the world. All of it was worth it. He would do it all, just so you would patch him back up afterwards with a kiss and a smile. Sometimes you would play soft music and hum to him- in these moments, he would close his eyes and if he hadn’t known any better, he would’ve thought he was in heaven. If it was his heaven, why was he in pain? As he watched you work, he came to an easy decision. He would cut himself open, over and over again for eternity, just for the chance to see your eyes narrow in focus and your mouth purse in concentration as your nimble hands worked to stitch his wounds. Just to feel the vibrations of your lips as they planted a kiss to his cheek mid-melody. He felt his pain was an offering that you rewarded with your presence, and it was an exchange he would happily make throughout his life and far beyond his death. 

Dean cherished the moments when the world outside his door faded into insignificance. You were the master switch that shut off the chaos, leaving him to bask in the warmth of your body and soul. But it took a while for Dean to realize the indelible mark you had left on him. He hadn’t spent more than a moment without you since you had first met- a hunter’s life didn’t leave much room for privacy, but that worked to his advantage in the early days. But you had left for a night, having to take care of a family obligation, pressing him a tender kiss and a don’t miss me too much as you rolled out the door that afternoon. And that night, tucked into your side of the bed in an effort to feel closer to you, Dean couldn’t sleep. Things that hadn’t crossed his mind in years went racing back and forth, round and round on a track until he couldn’t breathe- as if they had been chasing him every lap. When he closed his eyes, all of the memories he had stuffed in the closet and under the bed had spilled into a great big room and he was buried in the rubble. And when he opened his eyes and looked out at the moon, it seemed distant and cold, like it belonged to someone else. So he picked up the phone and called you, his body softening at the sound of your voice and falling asleep to the murmur of your words. He woke early, busy researching a case with Sam, but in a brief moment of stillness in the morning, he realized this was what she really meant. I get it now. Thankfully, you were home by dinnertime with a slice of your grandmother’s pie and a few crazy family stories to tell. Dean practically floated to you and wrapped you in a hug you had to beg him to release you from. 

It hadn’t been until your absence that Dean realized how much still lurked below the surface. While your presence gilded every facet of Dean’s life with a warm, glowing gold, he still hurt, ached, withered when you were gone. And it wasn’t until this realization that Dean understood the labor it was to love him. And it made him want to be better. 

The first time Dean opened up to you was a rainy spring evening. Then again one summer afternoon. He spent August feeding you breadcrumbs from his childhood. And he told you about his time in Hell in late October. You remembered this because you had looked out the window and resonated with the way the leaves trembled and fell from the trees. You raised a shaky hand to his cheek and wiped a tear and swore to Dean that he would never go through that pain again. And Dean, who had just relived each excruciating moment all over again, just for her, spoke. 

“I- I get it now. To love is to hurt because it forces you to be better. And it hurts because you take on a whole second person’s pain, wanting to spare them from it. And to love is to hurt because-”

You raised a finger to his lips and then replaced it with a kiss. And you smiled. And you leaned into his chest. And you let things be still. And so did he. 

[sunnytheopossum]

MORE POLY TOTHEARK!

This was actually the first thing I planned on making for Pride Month, but I’m so unfamiliar with drawing this kind of thing (aroace who never draws ship art 🙋‍♂️), so the sketch took a long time to iron out, and I kept putting it off. Overlapping characters and headturns, man. It’s hard.

I was originally going to base the pose off of that one bisexual image of Anne Hathaway (you know the one), but I wanted this to feel more intimate than that, so I squished them closer together! There are definitely some very obvious flaws in this piece, and I decided against shading it for that reason, but I’m pleased with it overall! At the very least, it think I captured what I was going for.

Also: FINE! I hear you! I cut Brian’s hair and changed his eyes from blue to hazel, alright?! Can’t have any fun in this house >:| (/j). But for real, he’s definitely more recognizable like this, though I am probably gonna need a lot more practice with him like that before I feel confident drawing him again and seeing it as “Brian”! That hair style is hard to make look normal in my style tbh… but maybe it’s the head shape? I need to do some actual face studies of these guys sometime, I’m just over here winging it.

[retrocesosdestacion]

SOCIALIZING PROBLEMS. | mapi león

mapi león x reader

genre: not fluff at all, accidental confession, teenager love.

warnings: a bit of headcanon, reader being a stupid curious, mapi confessing unintentionally, also mapi being an assertive/passive person.

notes: i had this prompt when i was cooking an egg. dios im really sorry for making u guys wait too long, also i feel like this is the worst writing I've ever done in my life.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: You are secretly Mapi's love and you have negative impressions about her.

But that ended when Maria accidentally left her sketchbook on the bench at the locker room.

“ If I had a flower for every time I thought of you... I could walk through my garden forever. ”

Tennyson.

❝ Damn. Mapi, you should become an artist. ❞ From the other side of the locker room, you could hear Pina's lips praising the spanish's drawings once again.

It was already the fifth time that day that someone had praised the scribbles in that notebook. And you too, but only in your head. You didn't even have the courage to go there and see the drawings.

Two years ago you were transferred to Barcelona. Everything was normal, you made friends, adapted to the Spain style, adapted to new rules.

But you didn't adapt to Maria León. You didn't have the slightest ability to go up to her and have a chat lasting more than two minutes.

Normally you just greet her, that's when you don't even look at her face. Anyone who saw the two of you together would pinky swear that hated each other.

This was all because in your little mind, Mapi had the greatest disinterest in you. After all, you came to this conclusion when you noticed that the defender always ran away from the conversation when you arrives.

However, over time, you accepted this treatment from the spanish woman, even if you were curious to understand the player. You even told this whole situation to Ona, your best friend.

But it was always the same dilemma: “Relax, she’s shy. “ or “ Mapi has difficulty meeting new people. “

Yet that never made sense, after all, Mapi is anything but bashful.

It became a huge snowball since you never bothered to go talk to her. Therefore, currently your relationship with Mapi is completely lacking affection.

And it was just with you.

Claudia, for example, was one of the lucky ones. She was glued to the blonde's side, attentively observing each page of the spanish woman's small notebook with the greatest freedom and comfort.

At that moment, the defender had both feet on the bench, so she could rest the notebook on her knees. Mapi slowly leafed through the drawings for her friend once again.

❝ Yo ya te dije, who knows in a few years. ❞ (I already told you.) León reply to the other spanish woman's compliment with a very hopeful tone, as part of her dream was to be a tattoo artist.

As always, you just looked at the two girls talking, as you sat, untying your boots.

❝ If you look for longer, you will have bad luck. ❞ Ona mocked your indeterminate stare. ❝ If you’re so interested, go there. ❞ She states while taking off her training uniform.

❝ Madness. She doesn't like me and you want me to suddenly get there? ❞ You threw those words into the air so quickly that Ona took a while to formulate something.

❝ Why do you think she hates you? ❞ Your friend countered.

❝ I've told you thousands of times, Ona. She looks at me dirty, ignores me, she doesn't even want to talk to me even though I'm her training partner! ❞ You justify while gesturing nervously.

❝ Stop being fucking neurotic. ❞ The spanish woman rolled her eyes, finishing putting on her post-workout clothes. ❝ Ve allí, siéntate a su lado y descubrirás por qué te trata así. ❞ (Go there, sit next to her and you will find out why she treats you like that.) Ona stated.

You only knew the basics of spanish, deciphering what the defender had said would take a while. ❝ Huh, what? Find out what? ❞

Ona didn't respond, just giving you a stupid smile and a wink.

Slowly, the oldest left your side and walked towards Mapi and Claudia. The moment she got there, Batlle poked Pina's shoulder and approached, murmuring something in her ear.

❝ What the fuck are you doing?! ❞ You whispered to yourself, automatically standing up; scared and surprised.

Suddenly, you felt the greatest penetration of looking in your direction: Claudia Pina looked at you as if she knew all your secrets, giving you chills.

She smiled a huge and mischievous smile, raised her arm and waved it, calling you over.

Before you went, the only thing you observed was Mapi's embarrassed and awkward manner, grumbling at the two spanish women for calling you.

You thought for seconds before taking the step to go there. A whirlwind of thoughts ran through your mind, like a river heading straight for the waterfall.

What if you are a nuisance to her? What if she leaves the moment you get there?

You were very worried about the relationship with someone you don't even are intimate with.

You worry about the image you give to a person that don't even want to be your friend.

Thus, your heart began to run a marathon from the moment you started your very slow steps towards Mapi León.

Maybe you were afraid of hurting her, but at the same time yourself. As if your feelings were bubbling for the defender and you didn't want to ruin everything.

In your peripheral vision, the only notable details were María closing her notebook as quickly as a middle school student after the last bell, Claudia and Ona smiling goofily and pointing at the defender.

❝ What was it? ❞ Those were your first words when you reached the other side of the locker room, completely looking away from Mapi and just focusing on the other two.

❝ You're the only one on the team who hasn't seen Mapi's drawings, right? ❞ Claudia gave the first word, pushing León's shoulder with her elbow.

You didn't even bother to answer correctly, just opening a painful smile.

❝ Yes, I think so. ❞

After you responded, Mapi frowned, rolling her eyes. This only made you more certain that León actually hated you.

❝ But there's no need to show it. I mean, I'm not interested. ❞ They were the stupidest words that came out of your mouth.

The shine in Mapi's eyes slowly faded with each word that left your lips, the spanish woman's fingers ran to the back of her neck, uncomfortable. At this point, you should be sure that you almost hurt the girl.

❝ Don't be like that. Come on Mapi, show it. ❞ Ona finally said something in the midst of the discomfort of that conversation, lightly patting the other spanish woman on the head.

❝ I'll show you later, I need to pack my things. ❞ Maria came up with the most false excuse possible, since her things were almost one hundred percent ready. León's fingers rested on the slap, giving Ona a dirty look.

Your eyes fell on Claudia and Ona, indignant at all of this.

But you didn't know why. It wasn't as if the lack of communication between two companions would cause such great discomfort.

There was something more, you could feel it. Such something else that even Ona hides from you.

❝ Dios mío, esto es horrible. You two look like children who don't know how to talk to each other. ❞ (Oh my god, this is horrible.) Claudia gave her opinion amidst the silence.

❝ Son como dos chicas enojadas. ❞ (They're like two stupid girls. ) Batlle added.

Mapi stood up delicately, pulling the bag that was previously on the floor to the bench and opening it. ❝ Could you two shut up and get out of here, wouldn't you? ❞

The spontaneous rudeness really took you by surprise, mainly because the defender was staring at the other two, but not at you.

Pina raised her hands in defense, expressing a mere comical sadness on her face. ❝ Right. ❞

The same thing for Ona, who reached for the strap of her sports bag and put it on her left shoulder. ❝ Come on, Claudia. And don't be stupid with [reader]. ❞

❝ Que se jodan ustedes dos. ❞ (Fuck you two.) Mapi grumbled as she mock-rifled through her clothes.

Ona grabbed Claudia's arm and pulled her tightly to her feet, slowly dispersing herself from you and Mapi over time, killing the last few minutes. ❝ See you later, [reader]. ❞

Your eyes screamed for help to leave together, following the two girls until they left the main door.

Okay, now you were alone with the girl you were most afraid of.

Gradually, some people and groups would leave within minutes. Silence now, which had previously been scattered conversations, was prevailing, and that was delicious on the one hand.

After all, you loved being alone at times like this. But not with Maria.

You continued standing until Mapi offered you the bench next to her, and you did so. When you laid eyes on the spanish woman, you noticed her fingers pressing against her own temples, circling fingerprints there.

❝ I'm sorry about them. They are two idiots. ❞ León murmured as she took her fingers back to the bag, closing the zipper.

❝ Alright, no problem. I'm used to it. ❞ You responded with a typical defensive tone, unaccustomed to this type of conversation with her.

Your fingers tapped upper thigh, nervous and anxious, waiting for some miracle.

Momentarily, the spanish woman's brown globes rested on you, followed by a big sigh.

❝ I'm sorry if I'm stupid with you. And it's also bad if I didn't show you the drawings, it's just that— ❞ The defender was interrupted when Patri shouted her name.

❝ Hey, Mapi! ❞ The spanish woman appeared through the door of the main hallway. ❝ Can you check for me if my boots are dropped on the field? ❞

Maria looked at you with a roll of her optics, also accompanied by a tiny and shy smile. ❝ I'll be right back. ❞

The spanish woman slowly went to the gate that connected the changing room and the field, leaving you there freely in the area.

A dead silence remained there, there was no one else but the two of you inside that locker room, and now, only you.

Your body was still warm from training, but it could be for countless reasons, maybe because of your sudden meeting with Mapi, because of the fear of everything that happens in other conversations, happening now.

Eyes slowly took in every detail of the locker room: the ceiling, the floor, all the other stalls and even your bag on the other side.

But your orbs left for your side, where Mapi's unopened bag accidentally was. And of course, the damn sketchbook.

No, no. This is terrible, a lack of privacy. Your desire to leaf through that notebook was greater, but you should be aware.

It was only a matter of time before Mapi came back and finally opened that notebook, there was no point in leafing through it before then.

But despite everything, you were a very, very curious person.

❝ Damn. ❞ You muttered to yourself, intertwining your fingers so that you unconsciously wouldn't reach for the notebook.

But, well... Your eyes darted from side to side, making sure Maria wasn't there.

Your hand rested on the notebook, at the same time your heart accelerated so quickly as a result of your comportment. You should go back.

Slowly, you opened it enough so you could peek at the drawings. Incredibly, they were drawings of outlooks and Mapi's cats.

Despite everything, it wasn't that bad. ❝ Damn. ❞ You mumbled.

Suddenly, a folded sheet of paper fell from the middle of the pages of the notebook, falling to the floor. Your face produced a confused expression until the moment you reached the sheet.

At the same time that you were almost putting the sheet back from where it had fallen, you unfolded it.

Your heartbeat increased from the moment you caught sight of your name written there, along with a drawing of yourself and several doodles in the surrounding area.

Initials together, stick drawings of the two of you together that you were sure Claudia and Ona had scribbled, your name was written in every color there was.

There, maybe you realized why Mapi never showed you the notebook. Why Mapi hated being by your side when she was with the girls.

You could feel your face burn, turning red little by little, until it was like a pepper.

Immediately, you threw your hands up to your face, along with the sheet. You breathed once, twice and three times until you understood the situation.

❝ Shit. ❞ You mumbled to yourself with a muffled tone, still with your face hidden in your hands.

Your body slowly slid down the cabin wall, rethinking all the impressions you always had of Mapi.

You folded the sheet back and hid it in the notebook again.

Suddenly, Maria's figure slowly appeared in the locker room, mainly due to the sound of her footsteps.

Your torso rose, you became so desperate that you completely forgot to let go of the notebook in your hand.

Mapi slowly stopped walking and stopped in the middle of the locker room the moment her eyes fell on your hand with the notebook.

Slowly, her lips opened ready to say something. However, the spanish's internal desperation probably prevented this.

❝ I didn't see anything, I swear. ❞ Was the only thing you could say before throwing the notebook back onto the bench and waving your hands in defense.

Maria completely changed her route, walking quickly towards you. The moment she reached you, the player grabbed your hands and squeezed.

❝ Puedo explicarlo, en serio. ❞ (I can explain it, seriously.) Mapi stuttered between words and even forgot to say them in english.

The spanish woman's face didn't even bother to hide her embarrassment. You could feel the player's fingers trembling and of course, the strong desire to cry.

❝ I thought it was cute. ❞ In the midst of all the tension, these were your stupid words. Giving a short smile, which perhaps calmed León.

❝ What? ❞ Mapi asked, raising one of her eyebrows.

❝ The drawing. ❞

❝ But you said you didn't see anything. ❞ Maybe you didn't expect her to be so naive.

❝ I'm not going to lie, I saw everything. ❞ You answer with a defensive intonation, after all, you had no idea what would happen from now on. ❝ Even those scribbles on the sid— ❞

❝ That was the girls idea. ❞ Mapi justified it so quickly, was probably true.

It was at that moment that you realized that María León was not angry or disgusted with you. Mapi was actually in love with you and was ashamed to admit it.

This all explained the insults and scandals she made whenever the girls played with her. You were the concern of all the jokes.

❝ Right. First breathe. ❞ You advised the spanish girl to calm down, after all, she was shaking more than anything.

❝ Let me explain, please. I don't want you to get it wrong. ❞ Mapi begged to hold an explaination.

❝ Go ahead. ❞

❝ I'm not some kind of stalker, okay? I only drew you because, well… Because I like you and I thought you were pretty. ❞ The defender gets confused in her own words.

You were sure that wasn't what she wanted, Mapi didn't want to confess like that stupid way.

❝ But I completely understand if you think I'm crazy like that... ❞ Mapi slowly closed her eyes, trying to throw all the despair inside. ❝ Dios mío, ¿qué carajo estoy diciendo? ❞ (Oh my god, what the fuck am I saying?)

❝ Hey, it's okay... I guess. ❞ You tried to calm down from the moment you felt León's fingers slowly slip from your hands.

Your mind enfolded the sight of Mapi in front of you, it was the only thing you could pay attention to.

Heart felling affliction, a feeling full of pity for the whole situation that Maria went through made you think a lot.

While you had the wrong impression of her, Mapi couldn't control own feelings.

❝ I don't know what to say about all this. ❞ You produced a sentence where you could try to be understandable with it. ❝ I thought you hated me. ❞

❝ What? Why?! ❞ León was really shocked.

❝ Huh… You always sounded or looked ignorant to me. But it wasn't bad, I had the wrong impression. ❞ Your lips moved automatically, everything you kept about her these two years finally escaped.

Mapi gave a short smile, perhaps your words sounded funny. ❝ Yo nunca debí contarles a Ona y Claudia sobre ti. ❞ (I should never have told Ona and Claudia about you.) The spanish woman muttered to herself, but you still understood.

❝ And now knowing that you like me was such a turning point. ❞ You explained yourself without letting go of Mapi's hands for a second. ❝ By the way, about that… ❞

❝ No need to explain yourself, I'll understand if you don't reply— ❞

❝ No. I want it. I mean, I think you won my heart after seeing your drawings. ❞ Your typical comedic tone caused few laughs between the two of you.

❝ And also, it really hurt me to get the impression that you hated me. I've been making you a fool all this time. ❞ You continued.

Mapi León paid attention to every word that left your lips. There, you noticed how the player stopped shaking and stuttering, finally taking comfort.

❝ No. I understand, I would have that impression too if I saw all of this. ❞

❝ But I hope we can go back and start over from scratch. ❞ You looked for the solution.

Despite everything, Mapi was very understandable with words, she just needed time to express herself.

Suddenly, León's brown orbs looked to the side, perhaps worried about something. ❝ I think we better go, I need to tell Patri about the boots. ❞

Mapi let go of your hands, and for a moment you didn't like that feeling. The spanish woman's fingerprints grabbed the famous intriguing notebook, putting it back in her bag.

Initially she carried the bag on her shoulder, waiting for you to do the same. Your feet lifted and strained toward your own bag, but immediately returned to Mapi's side.

❝ If you want to start from scratch, come with me. I'll stop at a coffee shop before heading home. ❞ León opened a genuine smile, extending her right hand towards you.

You got the signal, and you did it. Your long fingerprints met Mapi's, intertwining them.

❝ Yes, please. ❞

Maybe you should leave everything in the hands of time and, gingerly, the two of you would transform disagreements into affection.

Gradually, your relationship with Mapi stopped being lack of love and became the fruit of devotion. Walking alongside her was the best opportunity for that.

❝ ¡Quiero un frappuccino, por favor! ❞ (I'd like a frappuccino, please!) You used the spanish words that you knew, asking with a great enthusiasm. After all, from now you would use that dialect a lot more.

Really more.

[pocket-watcher]

The following is a collab between myself and the amazing @blissful23 !

Ding-Dong

The doorbell sounded and Suzie looked up from styling her long, blonde hair in the mirror. This always happens when she’s just getting ready to go out! She had readjusted the shirt she had “borrowed” from her roommate, as it was slightly too tight, checked her eyeliner was even for the 50th time, and was just finishing her lipstick with a satisfied pop.

She sighed frustratedly, stood up, and made her way to the source of the offending sound. Opening the front door, she was greeted by a man she’d never seen before. Dark hair and - oh God - a curled moustache framed a sharp featured face, adorned with a rather ostentatious top hat. Finely attired in a black suit, jacket resplendent with coattails, he gave a slight bow in greeting. It took all her willpower not to outright laugh in the face of this antiquity standing before her.

“Good day ma’am, it’s a fine afternoon, is it not?”

She stood, arms crossed in exaggerated frustration, staring back at him.

“How can I help you… Sir?”

She put the extra emphasis on that last word, wishing him to know quite pointedly that she was being interrupted. He smiled in return - whether it was sincere or strained in response to her standoffishness, she couldn’t tell.

“Well, you see my dear, I’m selling these very fine pocketwatches.”

With exaggerated flourish, he swept his coat open, revealing a dazzling array of pocketwatches hanging on the inside of it. He held it in place, and as if by magic - more likely the momentum of him opening his coat, she thought to herself - each of the pocketwatches begun swinging in unison. Probably a bit of showmanship designed to wow a potential customer, but still, it was fascinating to watch as they swung back and forth, back… and forth… back…

Suzie shook her head, dispelling a sudden onset of light-headedness, and redressed her gaze to The Salesman. He pulled his coat closed and smiled once more. A little less sure of her cold reception to him initially, she spoke again.

“Those are very lovely, but… I have no real need of a pocketwatch.” She said, gesturing to her phone.

“Ah, but my dear, you didn’t even take notice of our finest model!”

She bristled inwardly at being addressed as “my dear” again, and fixed her gaze to the pocketwatch he was now dangling in front of her face. It was silver, hooked by a long thin strap. The outer shell had some sort of pattern cut out of it to reveal the clock face behind, but with the shell popped open she couldn’t quite tell what was meant to be on the front. The spindling hands on the clock ticked away excitedly.

“Look at this gorgeous embedded crystal, and how it changes in the light! Let me swing it so you can see how it changes colour in the light…”

As he began swinging it from side to side, her jaw almost instantly fell agape at the sight of it, finding herself unable to draw her soft, blue eyes away from it.

"So many colours! Which colour do you prefer?" 

It was so hard to decide. So many splendid, beautiful colours to pick from. She tried to follow them as they shifted moment to moment. It was hard to think of a favourite. So hard to think… was all Suzie’s mind could muster for the moment, her thoughts, plans for the day, all of them fading away, replaced by her fascination with the tantalising kaleidoscope dancing before her eyes.

"I, uhh.... c-colours..."

The Salesman smiled wide. It wasn’t always this easy, but they all ended up this way eventually.

"Yes, pretty colours... and as each one shines, your worries and cares fade just that little bit more..."

Not having to think and just being able to enjoy the colours did sound nice to Suzie. Joyous, even; and she allowed herself a little giggle at the suggestion. She tried to help him how wonderful that sounded, but her mind was already so devoid of thought, all she could utter was:

"Hee-hee… colours...!"

Knowing he had her right where he wanted her, The Salesman followed on with his scheme.

“Can you hear the ticking? No? Maybe you should invite me inside where it’s quieter so you can really focus in on the sound…”

Had she heard the ticking? She wasn’t sure. Probably best to listen to him. A dull, errant thought in the back of Suzie’s near-blank mind warned that this was a bad idea, but was immediately overruled by the obedient thrall she found herself in.

"Uhhh… Won't you... nghh... won't you... please come in..."

“My dear, I thought you’d never ask…”

—

As he stepped through the doorway, another voice could be heard deeper inside.

“Suzie? You haven’t seen my top, have you? The low-cut one with the ruffles - oh.”

Suzie’s roommate Miranda - a stunning redhead - entered the room. Always a favourite, those, The Salesman thought to himself. She stopped upon seeing him eyeing her.

“Uh… hello. And you are?” Miranda asked, curiously, confused at the way Suzie stood there smiling blankly at her.

“He’s… He sells… pocketwatches…” Suzie answered for the strange man.

“Yes, and I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance. Would you like to take a look, my dear?”

“No, thank you. We,” Miranda looked sternly at Suzie, “are actually running late. So if you’ll excuse us…”

Suzie didn’t move, however. As Miranda went to grab her arm she simply smiled up at her.

“But… They’re so pretty…” She said, as if she struggled with every word.

The Salesman pulled out the watch. “See for yourself.”

Miranda looked at him, exacerbated, before huffing, turning back to Suzie in confusion. 

“Come on. We’re leaving.”

"But they’re so pretty..." Suzie whined. “Just take a closer look. You know you want to…”

Miranda looked. She couldn’t see anything special about this pocketwatch. Though, truth be told, she was struggling to take in any of the details as she tried to follow it with her hazel eyes. If only this guy would stop swinging it in front of her… back… and forth… and…

“What, are you trying to hypnotise me into buying one or something?” She laughed. But, then, she thought…

Looking at her usually headstrong friend standing quietly with her eyes tracking the watch’s every movement, everything seemed to click into place.

“Aha… w-wait. You’re not… You’re not actually trying to… right…?” 

Miranda was getting nervous, hiding it behind laughter. No. Of course he wasn’t. Hypnosis wasn’t real.

“My God, you are trying to hypnotise… me, aren’t you? And what have you done to Suzie? I’ve had enough of this, please leave.”

The Salesman frowned at this, placing his watch back inside of his jacket. She was going to be tougher. Luckily, he liked a challenge. Reaching into his jacket once more, his fingers brushed along the watches until he found… yes. Perfect.

“But my dear, you haven’t seen our Timepiece de Resistance…” He pulled out a small golden watch. Its chain was more detailed than the other, with a texture almost like woven vines. The numbers were roman numerals. Or were they? Miranda couldn’t tell. 

Shit. She’d been staring at it, hadn’t she?

Miranda covered her eyes and turned away,

“We call it that because it’s the Timepiece that causes all your resistance to melt away…”

His voice was deep in her brain now. It was so… so tempting to look back at him. And Suzie’s pleasant hums of approval weren’t helping.

“No, I won’t… you’re not going to… hypno… hypnotise… me…” Miranda managed, looking up to see Suzie had walked over to her. 

“Go on… just a little look… it would feel so good, Miranda…” Suzie spoke softly, almost dreamlike.

Then another thought hit her. If Suzie could sneak up on her, this guy could be anywhere! She had to check for certain if he was still between them and the door. 

She looked up at him and her attention was captured by the watch once more.

“Get… get out…” Miranda said as firmly as she could manage.

“Please calm down… You don’t need to be so on edge, so angry… Maybe you didn’t get enough sleep last night…”

Her eyes started to droop. All this fighting was exhausting. The only easy thing right now was keeping her eyes on that watch.

“No, I… I don’t need to… sleep… I’m completely…” She tried to stifle a yawn “… Awake…”

“We both know that’s not true, my dear… Look at you. You’re struggling to stay awake. You can barely keep your eyes open…”

Her hands, once balled into fists, were now relaxed and hung limply by her side. Miranda found herself struggling to keep her eyes open.

“No… I’m not - yawn - sleepy…”

The man approached her, guiding her over to the couch, where Suzie had, at some point, also had found herself.

“There’s no need to fight it anymore… You want to give in to it… You want to surrender to slumber…”

“Surrender… to slumber…” Miranda felt a smile grow on her own face as she repeated after him, her weary eyelids now stuck at half-mast. 

“That’s it…” He looked at his pocket watch. Another job well done.

“Well, ladies, it appears I may have lost track of time.” He chuckled, leading the girls to giggle mindlessly… although, they weren’t quite sure why they were laughing. But Master was so funny, wasn’t he?

“I’ll just leave this here.” The Salesman said as he placed a business card on the coffee table in front of them. “In case you know anyone else who might appreciate my services, hm?” 

He watched as Suzies head slowly slumped onto Miranda’s shoulders, both girls blissfully asleep. He straightened his hat, closed the door behind him, and moved onto the next house.

[spicyclover]

Soft morning

Summary : Once again, we wake up in bed together. We're naked and snuggly, with brains that are still foggy and sleepy, but bodies that are ready to dance.

Request

Hope you’ll enjoy it. Let me know in the comment section.

Thank you! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

WARNING : soft smut | praising | description

He kissed her gently, taking her mouth with spellbinding tenderness, tasting her sweetness. She whimpered. The vibration sizzles through him and stiffens Mick’s already erect cock. He presses his hardness against the firm, silky flesh of her bottom.

"Good morning, baby," she coos, putting her hand around his neck.

"Good morning.” Mick smiles and leans in to whisper in her ear, “I’m so hard for you.”

“And I’m wet for you.”

Her hair lies like a fan on the white pillowcase. Her breathing is slow and regular, the lateral profile of her breasts easily visible. Her nipples stiffen, magnifying the fullness of her ample curves. She is amazing. A lazy half-smile spread across her face. He traces with his fingers along her skin until his fingertips met a peaked nipple. She melted into him, pressing her warm, curvy ass against his hard-on. He grows harder. Mick press his cock against her bottom and kissed her, his tongue blazing a trail from her ear to her jaw, and finally to her hot lips.

"I love your lips on mine," He uttered his words between two tender kisses. This thought is more personal than he wants, but he can’t deny it.

She slides her hands along the muscles of his chest and their breathing develops rapidly and the pressure their tongues probe each other’s mouth. He grabs her lower lip between his teeth and she escapes a sweet moan. Pushing himself upright, he sweeps the blankets and draws a path between her chest and her hip. Then, Mick puts her on her back and presses his knees so that he can rub her clitoris on her panties, noting the increasing moisture of the fabric.

"I love mornings like this. I never want them to stop." She chuckles and bites her lips.

Blushed cheeks, and bright blue eyes, she watches him stoop to his full chest. His expression shows the raw and wild effect he has on her. She never hid it, never hid her fierce hunger for him. She is so open and needy and sexy as fuck. His chest tightens. He kisses her cheek to her jaw, licks her neck, and then lowers her scarlet and swollen breast. Her full breasts are plump with excitement, and her nipples stiffen into hard spikes. Mick devours her left nipple, sucking and sucking with need. When he bites the beaded tip, she inhales strongly, her fingers raking the skin of his back while he slips my hand into her panties.

She is completely soaked. And he needs to taste it.

He stoops down and grabs her ankles, pushing her legs up, reveling in her magnificent curves. He slips her panties half-thigh and looks at her. They closed their eyes and she smiled, that sensual smile as she let her knees fall closer to her body, exposing her most private and vulnerable part.

Perfectly styled, her pink folds shine under the soft sun that danced on her skin. Mick lifts her legs for better access and he kisses the back of the thighs. Her breath taken in anticipation of what would happen, and he slowed his descent, kissing and licking a trail along the back of his legs, a slow and deliberate torture. Finally, the need to taste her sweet flavor dominated him and he took a long, slow blow of her silky sex. As soon as his tongue meets the delicate skin of her clitoris, she gasps audibly. He slips his tongue along its smooth folds and her legs have separated in response.

"You taste like heaven." He said with a wet nose and swollen lips.

Her nectar is intoxicating and his raging cock is tense as he caresses her in long lazy strokes. She moans involuntarily and her chest rises and falls with irregular breaths. Mick reaches out his hand and rolls her tight nipple around his fingers, causing a panting moan. He looks at her face as he slips a finger into her, possessing it, then two fingers. Her lips parted, and her skin reddened with a mask of ecstasy.

Then Mick takes off her panties, slowly and surely, prolonging the sweet agony. He kisses her feet and when her panties fall on the floor, she spreads her legs, her sex quivering in anticipation. His mouth is on her the next moment and she moans, her knees falling even further. She squeezed the back of his head and forced his tongue to work until it was wet.

"More..." she moans between two breath.

He reaches down and caresses his cock, now wet with pre-um. As if she felt his urgency, she sits on the bed and pushes him on his back. His badass is heavy and thick against his belly, imploring her expert touch. She knows him like no other woman. She grabbed the base with her hand and looks so perfect wrapped around his thick root. She looked up at him, her lips parted, her mouth bending in the corner in a sneaky smile. Then she took a long blow from the crown.

The sensation explodes in him, radiating from his heart with this tongue stroke and he moans. Rejected, she took it in her hot and wet mouth. The pink lips covered his cock, his blue eyes pinned to hers she aspires, taking its length. Mick’s eyes widened when she reached the base, stunned that she could take everything. She pulls back with a firm suction and the air seems cold where her mouth has been. She pumps it and caresses his balls with her pretty hand. She licks the crown, her tongue swirls, slowly, quietly turning around and up and down, finally bringing it back into her mouth once more. Mick bends his back in feverish abandonment. His balls tighten as his cock throbs, desperately needing to sink into her, fill her, claim and own every inch of her.

"Stop, he commands, so close."

Mick gets up and pushes her unto her back, spreading her legs where he huddled at the entrance of her sex. She reaches out and grabs his cock, pumping it, sliding it against her smooth pussy. He must be inside her. Mick sinks his cock head into her pink opening and when he encounters resistance pushes further, finally breaking her tender flesh.

Her gentle moans inflame him more and the next moment he is completely buried in her, surrounded by her humid heat. Mick looks down, observing, mesmerized by the beauty of seeing his thick cock moving in and out, disappearing repeatedly in it. This is the ideal point of view to see her breasts bounce with each push, her clitoris engorged palpitating with excitement. The pleasure radiates throughout her body from the hot and tight flesh surrounding my cock.

He caresses her clitoris and using the pads of his fingers, traced the smooth opening of her slit. Then using only his middle finger, he sank into her and she trembles, her hips rising as he touches his burning core where his cock will soon follow. He fingers her with a deliberate and enticing touch as she squirms and gasps, her sex softening even more.

He rubs his head against her soft pink folds, up and down, against her clitoris. Mick repeats it several times until her whole body is a thin layer of sweat. She gasps and scratches the sheets.

"Oh, baby," she moans. "Please. I can’t wait."

Again, Mick shoves his cock into her with a weak grunt. This time, her flesh resisted only momentarily before giving way completely. He has buried himself to the hilt in her damp heat. Their flesh slips against each other, warm and smooth with sweat.

"Ooh!" She sighs when his cock reached that tender place deep inside.

"You are mine," the words come from his mouth in a guttural and wild voice.

He turns her on her stomach, pulls her hips up and he sinks into her from behind. Mick then watches as he removes his cock, the juice so thick and wet that fascinates him by the evidence of her intense excitement. Knowing how excited she is for him, she encourages him even more and he dives into her, voracious and greedy, filling her from root to tip.

He pushes his cock in and out, unable to stop himself from pushing her to the limit, taking as much as he can, as hard as he can. Her mouth is open and her breathing is fast, moans gushing from each push.

"Oh, my God," she whispered through raging breaths. "I’m so close."

The friction of his sex is accentuated by the inclination of her ass and when her hips begin to undulate, her core tightening, he knows that she is close to coming. He pounded her enraged cock into her faster and faster, grabbing her shoulders and neck to immobilize her, my hips twitching. She screams as the climax quivers through her body from head to toe.

Tension accumulates, the heart deeply coiled, excitement settles inside until finally, without warning, his climax loads and he loses all control.

“Ahh, fuck!” Mick curses. With a guttural moan his orgasm tore through him, and savagery took over. His hips jerks wildly as his cock exploded, and he spurts hot and hard inside her, angling her hips and sinking even deeper so his pulsing cock filled her with cum.

“Give it all to me baby,” she encourage as her pussy milked every last drop from him, his entire body quaking with bone-deep shudders.

Spent, Mick collapse onto her side, his body quivering in aftershocks, his mouth dry as he tries to catch his breath. She reached around and cupped his face, smiling her sexy, just-for-him smile.

Still buried deep inside his lover, he leans down to kiss her. “I love you.”

“I love you, Micky.”

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Birthdays

Dicks starts a tradition, for every first birthday one of his loved ones spends with him, he gives them a part of his heart.

Jason: Dick isn't there for Jasons first birthday at the manor because well... he isn't exactly welcome at the manor but he snuck Jason his number weeks in advance to make sure Jay would be at his crappy apartment the day after his birthday. And he gives Jason a collection of poetry his mother had written while they had traveled around the world. He had memorised all of them many years ago but he wanted to give Jason something tangible to connect them together. He might not be related to Bruce, he might not be Jason's brother by law or blood but Jason carries the robin name and Mary Graysons words so he is Dick's brother no matter what Bruce wants to say about it. Some of the poems aren't in English but they all flow beautifully and are written in the same black swirling script. Jason cries real tears and clings to Dick because this isn't something he can say he's had before. When Jason died, Dick took it from Jays room because he didn't allow it to be part of a mausoleum for his brother he wasn't going to let it be part of one for his brother.

After Jason comes back to life, and he's left Gotham he finds that familiar notebook in a safe-house he was sure Nightwing didn't know about with a post-it note on top reading.

I'm so glad you're back little wing

-DG

Tim: Dick and Alfred celebrate Tims birthday alone and Dick knows that Tim is struggling with who he is and his place in the family. Jason needed connection Tim needed purpose. Tim needed something to do to prove his value so on Tim's 13th birthday Dick teaches him the quadruple summersault. he teaches Tim the Full-Twisting Shaposhnikova his mother's favourite move on the bars and the moors. They spend all day practicing together until Tim can do a loose approximation of as many of his parent's signature moves as they can squeeze into one day. And every time Dick sees Tim for the next two months he asks for a spotter and they spend two odd hours practicing the moves. Tim never ends up incorporating the Flying Grayson's moves into his fighting style but he starts to follow Dicks habit of getting up high when he's stressed and working out all his frustration by practicing those moves over and over again until his body is pleasantly sore. Sometimes when Dick is on undercover missions, Tim will do one of the routines to help with the fact he cant reach his brother.

Damian: canonically Dick gave Damian a trapeze bar but that was long into his Robin tenure I believe it was after the Lazarus island debacle. So I think that by the. time Damians 11th birthdays rolls around, Dick and Damian have a pretty solid relationship and the first thing Dick would have given Damian was his father's unfinished sketchbook which contained the original designs for the robin costume. This book is Thick and its not like a modern sketchbook no, John Grayson found this leather bound monstrosity in Egypt and paid pennies for it. Its so dense that its filled with about 3 years of drawings and still has more the half of its pages a yellowed blank canvas. Damian, who is naturally talented at art and was encouraged by Dick to try and find non-vigilante methods of enjoyment has already taken up drawing months prior but this gets him to start practicing with fervour. He tries hard to mimic John Grayson's art style before eventually giving up at trying to create identical pieces and just incorporates various techniques the man used. For Dicks birthday that year he gifts him a portrait of his late parents but unlike the ones he's made for the manor, Dick's parents are in motion, with his John Grayson's grin stolen right off his sons face and Mary Grayson's boisterous laugh as she crashed into her husbands side could be heard in the famous cackle of her son.

now I wanted to do Cass or Steph or (maybe even Babs or Kori if I wanted to pivot from family to romance) but I genuinely the girl who has Mary Graysons wedding ring would

Donna Troy: Dick Gave it to her when they were still wonder girl and boy wonder. They were 14 and it was right after they had started the titans, back when it was a kids club more than a hero organisation. It was accompanied with a whispered confession of his identity, an identity the rest of their team wouldn't learn for another to 2 years. She wears it around her neck with a simple gold chain. She didn't take it off during her wedding or funeral, she was buried in it and came back with its barely there weight a comfort against base of her neck.