#like his face is a bit too round and a couple of proportions are a bit off and so on but whatever

[fwoosheye]

Decided to procrastinate by experimenting a bit with techniques and colourations and decided to use @socialc1imb's Fortgotten Fourth AU Vio :)

[sissylittlefeather]

Kinktober Day 6: Pussy Worship

First Taste

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, cussing, kissing, oral sex (f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, ejaculation

Word count: ~1k

Kinktober Masterlist

Elvis has been with girls. He's been with quite a few girls by now. It's 1959 and he's no stranger to naked women. But when he finds you at the Moulin Rouge and goes back to your apartment, he's in awe.

You have the most beautiful pussy he's ever seen.

Everything is in proportion and the right shape and color. It looks like it was crafted perfectly for him. He looks up at you from where he's on his knees between your thighs on the bed with his eyes wide. You're a beautiful girl, there's no doubt about it, but he's been with beautiful girls before. This is something else entirely.

"Is there something wrong?" You ask demurely, your French accent making the words sound sexier.

"No, no honey. Nothing wrong at all. It's just..."

"Quoi?" He stares at you blankly so you translate. "What?"

"Nothing... just..."

"Tell me, Elvis." You bat your eyelashes and his heart flutters. He's just going to have to tell you.

"Honey, you have the prettiest little pussy I've ever seen in my life." You giggle and try to wave him off. "I'm not kiddin', baby this is amazing."

He slowly spreads your legs open further and looks down at you again. Yep. Still perfect. He runs his finger up your slit and finds just the right amount of wetness. You moan softly with the sensation and wiggle your hips, begging him to touch you more. Suddenly, he has the strangest inclination to taste you. He knows that's a thing that people do, but he's never done it before. Quite frankly, he thought the idea of it was disgusting, but now he's here looking at you and his curiosity gets the better of him. He gently licks the end of his finger that was wet with your arousal.

The taste is sweet and earthy, almost like the way a flower smells, and is not what he expects at all. It actually tastes good. He wets his finger again and puts it in his mouth, but it's not enough. He wants to taste more of you. Without another thought, he leans forward and presses a kiss to your clit. The smell of you is intoxicating and he barely notices that you arch your back and whimper. He carefully pokes his tongue out and runs it up your slit. Moving back down, he pushes the tip of his tongue inside you. The experience is almost overwhelming so he pulls back. Luckily, your clit is just there, so easy to see, so he puts his mouth around it and swirls his tongue over it. You grab the top of his hair and grind into his face and it's like he can't get enough. He licks and sucks and moves his tongue in and out of you like a man possessed.

Finally, he realizes you're writhing and moaning in pleasure as he eats you. This just heightens his experience and he ruts his hips into the bed to try to get some friction on his aching cock. He never dreamed doing this would turn him on so much, but now he never wants to stop.

"Fuck, Elvis!" You cry out as your orgasm slams into you and he feels your pussy pulse and throb as he continues to lap at you. He's not ready to stop, but you're so sensitive, you tap on the top of his head. He backs away for a bit, nose and mouth and chin glistening, and looks up at you. You whine. "It's too much."

"No, please, baby don't make me stop. You taste so good. You're so pretty. Please, baby." You couldn't say no to his round blue eyes if you wanted to, so you nod and he smiles, diving back into licking you. Your eyes roll back as he moves his tongue on you furiously. Now that he's tasted your climax, he wants to make you do it over and over again.

And he does. After a stunning four orgasms, he finally rolls onto his back, exhausted and sweating. He can barely talk, his tongue is so worn out. His dick stands up, still hard and throbbing with need, precum leaking from the tip. He almost came a couple of times just from the excitement of licking you and grinding against the bed, but he didn't.

You look over and realize how hard he is. You're spent from the orgasms, but you want to repay him for what he just did for you, so you sit up and drag yourself over to straddle his hips. He watches you, mesmerized, as you line his cock up with your entrance and slowly start to sink down onto him.

"Fucking shit..." He hisses as your pussy takes him in, squeezing him just right. Once you've got him fully inside you, you whimper and start to move on him. His eyes roll back and he bites his bottom lip. He's never felt such exquisite pleasure before. "Goddamn, baby, your pussy..."

It's all he can get out before he quickly lifts you off of him just in time as he cums and his release spurts out of him all over your pretty pussy. You collapse on the bed next to him and lay there for a while.

Eventually he gets up and goes to the bathroom to get a towel to clean you up. As he does, he can't help but admire you yet again. When you realize he's staring and touching you more than necessary, you sit up on your elbows.

"Is it really so different?" Your voice breaks his trance and he looks up at you.

"Huh?"

"My pussy. Is it so different from what you are used to?" He smirks.

"Honey, I have half a mind to marry you for it. I've never experienced anything like it."

"Would you like to stay and have it again in the morning?" He looks at you eagerly.

"You serious?"

"I do not joke about sex. And besides, I love the way you look at me. I need more of it." You smile and pat the mattress next to you. He climbs back into the bed and lets you snuggle into his chest.

Elvis spends the rest of his life searching for another pussy like yours. He has plenty of good ones along the way, but none measure up to you and the beautiful secret between your legs at the Moulin Rouge.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @deltafalax @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @jhoneybees @polksaladava @searchingforgravity @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @peaceloveelvis @theelvisprincess @your-nanas-house @makethemorning @mrspresley69

Anyone else want a Kinktober tag everyday?

[sweetracha]

No thoughts only building snowmen with felix and then him getting grumpy bc yours looks cuter

Do you Wanna Build a Snowman?

"Lixie come on! You're going to catch a cold" you said as you rounded the corner in your new home.

"It'll all melt away! Hurry" Felix sounded like a little child worried about his double chocolate cookie crunch extreme scoop of ice cream.

Who could blame him though? Felix couldn't remember the last time he had seen snow. You mentioned how badly the streets would thick over with ice and be packed with white as far as the eye could see. To Felix, this could never be a bad thing. How could it be?

You ran through a mental checklist, ensuring you were both ready for the cold about to hit you. Sure, you were used to it by now but somedays the winter bites back. Felix on the other hand was ready to run out blind to his death, the Aussie would never survive without you.

Thick socks? Check.

Warm boots? Check.

Pants with leggings underneath? Double-check

Long sleeves? Check

Coats? Check and a matching check as Felix insisted you two had to have a matching set.

Gloves? Check much to Felix's complaining 

And finally, a hat to keep your head warm? Check!

When you opened the front door, Felix dashed out with excitement. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the pure joy on his face. He found the thickest pile of snow in the middle of your yard, where your garden used to be, and fell to his knees. You should have guessed the gloves would have been long forgotten by now as he feels the snow melt on his bare skin. There was no way to sneak up beside him as the unmistaken crunch of packed snow sounded from under your feet. You crouched next to him and took in all his beauty. It was his first life, wasn’t it?

“Lixie baby?” You asked softly, not wanting to disturb his fun. All you got back was a simple hum to acknowledge he was listening. “Do you want to build a snowman?” You thought he was about to die from how quickly he lit up.

“Yes! We could make a cute snow couple!” His mind went running with ideas.

“Pixie, have you ever built a snowman?”

“No but how hard could it be? Animal crossing taught me everything I need to know.”

Oh how wrong he was. Felix quickly realized he had put too much confidence in his ability to build a snow person. It wasn’t meant to be a competition but he decided himself to make it one. Then he looked over at yours, almost finished while he was barely started. 

Yours was perfectly round and white.

His was lumpy and had random mud stains all over.

Yours was perfectly proportional.

His head always ended up being bigger than the middle.

Yours had arms specifically grown by Mother Nature herself.

His looked as if a dog dragged them in.

Even the face on your snowman looked perfect! Brown buttons you stole out of the craft drawer, a little carrot nose from the fridge, little pebbles curved up into the biggest smile. You even broke off tiny flakes of bark to make the freckles on your snowman! 

Wait…freckles…on a snowman? Brown buttons, a big smile, a blue scarf, a matching hat, Felix’s missing gloves, and freckles.

“Y/n!” He didn’t know what to say so he decided to scream your name to get your attention. However, that backfired miserably as you fell straight on your butt onto the cold ground.

“Felix!” You yelled back. He ran as fast as he could to save you.

“I’m sorry…I just..your snowman…he is…” 

“He is you!” Felix swore the smile you shared could have cleared the skies. “Do you like him?”

“I LOVE HIM!!!” He got up close and personal to inspect every little detail. “How?”

“I’ve had some practice” He fell for your giggle every time.

“Mine looks so…sad” Just then the oversized head rolled off and smashed into pieces.

“Maybe I can help you? I bet we could make him a real find!” Felix liked this idea much more than the competition he was participating in.

“Gotta make Snowlix the perfect man!” Felix stated as if it was an indisputable fact.

“So snowbin, got it”

The Sweetest Batch: @goblinracha @kaciidubs @channieandhisgoonsquad @comet-falls @ddyskz @jiminskies @j-onedrabbles @lixiesweetbrownie @marrivmel @caitlyn98s

[icedsodapop]

What makes this book an uncomfortable, if distant, cousin of GamerGate and men's rights activist logic is that it, too, relies on a series of false equivalencies and muddy distinctions in order to elevate being shamed on social media to epic proportions. These sorts of distortions are dangerous because they minimize — and even threaten to erase — far more systematic and serious problems that have taken years to even reach the public consciousness.

(...)

That all of these episodes might share something is plausible, maybe even likely, and they all involve some degree of real suffering — certainly, being publicly shamed on Twitter or elsewhere on the internet has very real ramifications — but they are not equivalent to one another. Being shamed doesn’t affect people’s lives equally. Ronson tends to dismiss this, as when Adria Richards, the shamer of Donglegate, suggests to him that the white men she shamed for telling sexist jokes at a tech conference (those with what Ronson calls "supposed white privilege") hold more power than she does, and they and their peers are more likely to call her reaction to sexist dick jokes “overblown.” This, Ronson says, “seemed like a weak gambit,” a “logical fallacy” of the sort deployed “when someone can’t defend a criticism against them,” and “change[s] the subject by attacking the criticizer.”

At the same time, he doesn’t seem to make much of the fact that Richards’ “victim” has remained pseudonymous throughout the affair, while Richards, a black Jewish woman whose identity was public throughout these events, was not only fired from her job as a developer evangelist for Sendgrid, but faced a barrage of vicious, violent harassment, and whose address and other contact information were publicly released on 4chan and elsewhere. His ostensible concern is with the threat of the anonymous crowd, but it’s Richards he calls an “inappropriate shamer,” and Ronson comes dangerously close to saying that she deserved what she got.

The construction of false equivalencies is a major strategy of aggrieved white dudes, like men’s rights activists who argue that men have as much right to refuse paternity as women have to choose abortion, or like video game players who claim that critiquing misogyny represents an attack on their marginalized demographic. Ronson’s no 4chan troll, but So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed reads very much like a defense of unfairly victimized white men and privileged white women. This became especially clear yesterday, when writer Meredith Haggerty tweeted a photo of a couple of lines from the book’s uncorrected galleys, which were subsequently cut when Ronson was advised that they sounded especially tone-deaf: “I’d never thought of it that way before—that men feel about getting fired the same way women feel about getting raped ... I can’t think of many things worse than being fired.” Despite the fact that he’d discussed cutting these lines in an interview with The Frisky weeks before, he became the object of a (fairly mild) round of Twitter meta-shaming. Ronson is right, of course, that it’s a bit unfair to criticize him for something that wasn’t in the published book, but the comparison is telling (and not only because it defines women’s social roles as primarily sexual and men’s as economic).

This review really highlighted by main problems with Jon Ronson and his anti cancel culture argument. He is, in my opinion, the Buckley of both-sides centrism, a White male figure who positions himself as an intellectual voice on the topic. It's telling that he's never bothered to investigate the topic of online harassment and it's intersections with gender, race and class.

[mauesartetc]

you've stated a couple of times how sonic the hedgehog's design is visually interesting/creative, can you elabore on that and maybe put your own spin on it?

Have a nice day!

Ha, sure! I've never even played the Sonic games but I'm aware of the general pop-culture mythos around them, and I can appreciate how the characters all have unique personalities that stay relatively consistent throughout the series. I do think the Sonic characters in general have a nice variety in proportions (namely, big heads, skinny bodies, big feet) that makes them interesting to look at.

Kinda wish the designs would deviate more from that template for a bit more variety, but I guess Sonic Boom did that? Sort of? At least with Knuckles?

Like I get that these guys are iconic and it's in Sega's best interest to maintain that brand recognition. Of course they wouldn't want to change the designs too much. But personally if I were designing a new character for a Sonic game, I'd try to give them a different body type from what everyone else has. Samebody Syndrome doesn't count as a legitimate stylistic choice imo.

And really, the connected eyes were always a bit nonsensical and terrifying to me. It's like all the hedgehogs in this universe are cyclopses with two pupils and two irises somehow, yet the other species have regular eyes for some reason. Figure that one out.

(But apparently Vector the Crocodile has connected eyes too, so I have no idea what the logic is there. It'd be hilarious if he revealed himself to be a hedgehog in disguise.)

Enough about the cast; let's get into Sonic himself. Looking at his original 1991 iteration next to this 1930 patent drawing of Mickey Mouse, it's clear where a lot of the visual influence came from. Notice the body proportions, face shapes, oval-shaped black noses jutting out from the face, and the white gloves.

This does somewhat explain the connected-eye thing as well, except it looks more natural with Mickey since each pupil is implied to represent one entire eye, with the space around them simply representing differently-colored fur on Mickey's face.

And to reiterate what I mentioned in the shape language post, Sonic's assortment of triangles visually puts him at odds with his nemesis Dr. Robotnik, who's based on round shapes. While it's more common to see villains with triangle-based designs and heroes with circle-based ones, Sonic shows us that vice versa can also work.

If I put my own spin on Sonic's design, I'd make it look a bit more like a hedgehog, separate the eyes, and add more padding to his shoes so they hold up better to running. I also felt the tail and back spikes were a bit superfluous, so I left them out.

It's a first draft I'd need to explore more thoroughly, but it's a start. Thanks for asking!

[pyrorptrs]

Ben 10 Redesigns Playlist 1

Did redesigns of Ben's first 10 aliens awhile back.

I think Ben 10 designs as a whole work best when you have a specific color scheme to work with, so I tried to incorporate green as the primary with a greenish shade of black and white as the secondary's and highlights. I also made it a rule that unless the alien has some way to properly incorporate the omnitrix into the body, they need some sort of suit or device on them to house the badge

Ben - Honestly doing a design for Ben is kinda hard to do, most of the better takes you can do were done by the original canon and the fandom at large have pretty much filled out the rest. I think the soccer shirt with stripe down the middle is probably the most iconic part of his design, so I tried to incorporate that with his undershirt while messing with the colors. Took some inspiration from both the jackets he wore in the past for his hoodie. Coming up with an Omnitrix design was probably the hardest bit, I'm not a fan of when it looks like a normal watch, but addign too much detailing it can make it a pain to redraw, so I tried finding something simplistic but still kinda techy..

Heatblast - In terms of overall design I tried leaning towards Omniverse, but I also wanted to lean a bit into the 10,000 design from the OG series with the shoulder pauldrons. The reason why I gave him shoulder pads is that I like both the ideas that the aliens grow with ben and that they're the "peak of their species"; which isn't necessarily a good thing. so the shoulder pads act like kind of like "braces" for the shoulder pauldrons since the flames burn more intensely than on other Pyronites.

Wildmutt - Went with a mix of his OG and OV looks with a bit of 10,000 influence to make him look older. I feel his shoulder pad is kind of iconic to his design, so I tried to incorporate it and a similar one on his right shoulder into his suit. I also used the collar idea from OV to round out his suit, with the rest extending over his back since Wildmutt tended to be used as a mount a lot. Finally the stripes and tail are nods to his 10,000 design.

Diamondad - I honestly feel a bit bad for anyone that has to do a design for Diamondhead, because he has such a solid look. Nonetheless I tried to come up with a decent look for him. His OG split outfit look is easy his best suit design, so I wanted to use that as a primary inspiration, but I also liked the the collar that the reboot version had, so I wanted to call back to that. I also liked the earth look he sported in UAF and wanted to take some inspiration from that as well.

XLR8 - Similar deal to Diamondhead, XLR8 just has a solid design, so really was more about adding a couple personal tweaks here and there for personal taste. Did add the back spikes from the reboot version though

Greymatter - I always thought his suits looked like hazmat suits so I wanted to lean into that with his redesign, making it look a bit more techy. I also added some of those falangy thingies other older Galvans tend to have in order to make him look a bit older too.

Fourarms - Another case where the OG design was just so good that it's hard really do another take to it that doesn't amount to personal preference. I obviously used the OG look as a base for the suit and face (mostly because I didn't like the ponytail on UAF or the Goatee on OV), but I also added a belt and bracers on his arms on the arms to spice things up. Finally made his spikes more prominent to make him look a bit older.

Stinkfly - I'll bring up the second design I did in a minute, but for the more classic Stinkfly I leaned toward OV in terms of general proportions and colors, but I also wanted to call back to his OG design with his head being a different color from the rest of his suit.

Slopfly - Obviously this is based primarily off of the design from the reboot, which I have mixed feelings about. Didn't like the almost exclusively humanoid look, so I tried to make him look much more insectoid with more prominent Dragonfly aspects and a bit of Hornet thrown in too. Lore wise, I like to think of his as being from the same planet, but an evolutionary offshoot; think of it like the difference of an ant vs a bee. Overall I tried to make them different, despite basically being the same character. My idea is that classic stinkfly is a bit hardier and can use his claws and stingers more offensively, while "slopfly" as I call him is a bit weaker, but can more effectively use his slime.

Ripjaws - I liked the way OV handled him and wanted to push that more monstrous look a bit further. In terms of his suit, I wanted to add a rebreather so he doesn't immediately start to suffocate, but still kept that weakness.

Upgrade - I lean very hard into Classic as far as my fav designs for him go and wanted to keep that sort of feeling. So I tried to keep his general body shape that same sort of gloppy look he used to sport before OV bulked him up. I also tried to keep the high contrast color he used to sport since I feel it helped his circuitry pattern stand out more.

Ghostfreak -Honestly both easy and hard to come up with a ghostfreak design; their are good aspects in every design, but something also holding them back. I did ultimately lean more toward OV in terms of the overall look, but I also tried to streamline some bits and included the claws from his unskinned form

[therummesoccupied]

IDW'S SONIC THE HEDGEHOG, SPRING BROKEN SPECIAL - THOUGHTS

A while back, it became pretty clear that the abundant specials IDW has been releasing for the past year have had a certain... "commonality" about them. Endless Summer, A Very Chaotix Halloween, Winter Jam - the Four Seasons theming read loud and clear. Now, up until a couple months ago, I'd assumed the 900th Adventure Special was meant to be the stand-in for Spring in this lineup, so I was a bit surprised when Spring Broken was announced to round the seasonal specials off. I was interested to see what kind of send-off they'd give this little gaggle of stories.

This time around, we have pencils by Adam Bryce Thomas and colors by Leonardo Ito. These two are a really great combo, as I think Ito's emphasis on simple, soft color palettes compliments the very manga-esque style Adam brings to the table. This style, however, leaves me a little confused as to why he, of all artists, was the one pulled for this story.

ABT tends to be at his best when working on big, over-the-top action sequences. His work really sells the sense of adrenaline the series is trying to convey in its tensest moments. That being said, the story here is... fairly mundane? The characters spend a day at the fair and solve a mystery about flowers. Heck, the entire last couple pages are entirely dedicated to showing the characters enjoying the attractions once all is said and done.

There's not really a ton here in the way of high-stakes plot that would really give Adam a chance to shine.

That being said, there's still enough here that you can see his art style noticably developing a bit in a manner akin to Evan Stanley's. Namely in the way he draws Sonic himself.

It might just be my imagination, here, but I could swear Sonic's quills are longer and come to a more distinct point than the way Adam usually draws them. We know Evan has been taking strides to incorporate elements of official 2D Sonic art into her artstyle, perhaps this is a sign that Adam has been doing the same. Beyond that, I think I'm noticing some more fun and stretchy facial expressions on some of these characters, too. When it comes to the way faces are drawn, I've always found that ABT has a tendency to stay pretty on-model, but here I'm seeing a bit more expressive warping of the facial proportions than I'd expect out of Adam.

Where Adam really knocks it out of the park here, though, is with the background character designs.

Adam's always good at drawing up unique OCs, and there are tons of 'em here. Having so many characters with so many looks and still having a consistent style to them all goes a long way toward helping the world feel just a little more lived in. Another cool bit of background work he contributed is this central figure that pops up in a few places around the festival.

Also I just noticed that Cream and Vanilla are here. Neato.

When asked about this figure on Twitter, ABT said that she's intended to be a sort of Nature Spirit, and that the festival pays reverence to her. She's never mentioned in the story, but it's a neat little detail to see the more spiritual side of this world's cultures.

As I said before, the story, written by Josh Trujillo, is not too incredibly exciting. The majority of the plot centers around the mystery behind the annual Flower Contest, which itself is really three mysteries, all of which are wrapped up pretty quickly. Really, it seems to be less about the mystery, and more about how these characters spend their free time in a sort of slice-of-life fashion. This is fine, and it shows us some neat character interactions we don't normally get to see, like Jewel and Espio or Amy and Nite, but it's also something we've been getting a lot of lately.

It almost makes me wonder, with the amount of miniseries and specials they've been putting out there recently, if it wouldn't be possible, and maybe a better use of resources, to just run a dedicated sister series devoted to telling side stories like Sonic Universe did for Archie.

I'm not the first person to make this point, but perhaps then we could get more big, exciting plots full of stakes and gravitas in the main book. Who knows.

All in all, Spring Broken didn't particularly blow me away. I'd say it's a nice break from the norm but... it's not. It's exactly the kind of story we've frankly been getting in surplus as of late. I'm ready for things to move again, ready for the non-stop, blood-pumping action of Sonic the Hedgehog! There are some cute moments here and there that I do appreciate, but I just wish they could have come at a different time.

Issue #70 drops in about 22 hours for me, so with any luck, that will scratch my itch for more exciting Sonic stories for a bit.

'Til then, thanks for reading!

[tentaclesandbellies]

How fat would you ideally want your characters?

So the fun thing with all of my current OCs; Zeke, Saloma, and Cassandra, is that they can all get *really* fat.

In my mind Zeke could get the fattest, his curse makes him swell with fat the more he eats, and coupled with his endless hunger he could eat until he was a complete blob weighing hundreds if not thousands of pounds, and beyond!Ideally... he's best when he's either hopelessly obese and unable to move, or when he's dragging around a stomach so heavy and big that it's weighing him down.

Saloma is a bit like Zeke in that she too can get ENORMOUS if she really wanted to, she's hopelessly gluttonous and if you keep putting food in front of her she'd honestly just keeping eating until she couldn't move! She's best when she's weighing hundreds of pounds and is so large she ends up waddling everywhere and getting stuck in doors~ But is also a good candidate for being a blob ;P

Now for Cassandra~ She's the visibly smallest of the lot of them, she's sculpted her body using magic to be stunning albeit utterly unreal in terms of proportions. Which makes it all the more fun when she's blown up absolutely huge! Her amulet that she has round her neck (and typically it's buried in her cleavage), 'stores' all the fat she would put on inside it. She can use it on people to fatten them up but it has the downside it inflicts all that weight gain on her if it's ever broken.

Which, given she's been alive for quite some time... there's a very strong likelihood that she'd swell up with so much fat she'd explode! (Though being a patron to a demonic entity, she could come back in some form with time).

I do love to picture her struggling with very fat, like a huge pot belly, massive clapping thighs and cheeks and a plush face with her fanged mouth getting buried by her fat face~

That was a bit of a ramble but hope it answered your question anon!

[writergirl3]

Jesse’s Pottery Class; 4 Town x Reader

Okay so I posted this the other day and it got deleted…🤦🏽‍♀️

Buuut, in belated honour of the manga release, I wanted to post this chaotic piece that I wrote a couple of months back. It was an idea that @4townlove and I chatted about, but this is kinda a sneak-peak. In other words, it’s all I have right now.

Be warned- there is swearing in this (in Spanish), and Google translate dependency. You’ve been warned.

Now…onto the good stuff! 💙

“What?! All I’m saying is that T could’ve been right about there being pepper in Dr Pepper!”

Shaking his head, Robaire gives you a sideways glance as the pair of you stroll through Jesse’s house. Nonetheless, a chuckle tumbles from his lips, “You shouldn’t encourage him, Y/N”

“He could be a genius one day, you never know.”

Before the pair of you can continue bickering about T’s outlandish ideas, your collective attention is taken by the sound of voices coming from Jesse’s art studio.

“So, if you wanna go for a more rounded shape, you gotta manipulate the clay slightly differently.”

“Like this?”

“Yeah, you got it!”

You turn to Robaire, met by an expression that’s just as perplexed as your own. Deciding to explore the situation further, you push open the door.

‘Wholesome’ couldn’t even begin to describe the scene in front of you.

Z sits on Jesse’s potter’s stool, his large hands tentatively cupping the clay on the wheel. Jesse stands over him, face beaming with pride and offering encouraging pointers. Honestly, it’s such a cute moment between the two friends, you wish you could take a photo to preserve the memory. That might’ve been an option, up until Robaire’s interruption of the moment;

“What are y’all doing?”

The verbal inquisition takes the both of them by surprise, and Z’s hands slip. In an instant, his hard work collapses in on itself and he looks at the mess in disbelief. Robaire chuckles uneasily, “Sorry, man.”

You elbow Robaire’s side and Jesse just shakes his head. Heading over to Z, you offer him a friendly hug, wrapping your arm around his broad shoulders from behind. “Poor Z!”

“I already said sorry!” Robaire insists.

“It’s fine,” Z sighs a bit, throwing the clay back on the wheel before offering you a small smile, “I’ll start over.”

Detaching yourself from Z, you wonder over to Jesse. “Robaire’s right, though; what are you both doing?”

Jesse smiles down at you, “Z was feeling a little…anxious,” he carefully explains, “so I thought throwing some clay down might help him.”

Z remains silent, focused on shaping the ball of clay in his hands. Robaire nods in approval, before getting an idea. “Hey, Jess, can you show us too?”

“Really?” Jesse’s surprised to say the least. None of the other guys have really shown that much of an interest in trying their hand at pottery.

“Yeah! It looks fun!” You enthusiastically confirm, taking a seat next to Z, “I wanna make a mug, Tae keeps stealing mine.”

“Ooh, yeah, I wanna make a mug too!” Robaire nods in agreement.

—

“Hey guys! What’s up?”

Tae Young pops his head around the door to the art studio, soon followed by T’s cap-clad chocolate tresses.

“They’re making clay stuff!”

“Hey guys,” Jesse chuckles, “We’re having a pottery lesson.”

Since beginning, you’ve made some solid progress on the mug you’re sculpting. Deciding to go for a larger, balloon shaped piece, you’ve been concentrating on getting the proportions just right.

“Ooooh, can we join?” Tae asks sweetly, mindful of the concentrated silence that’s filled the room.

Jesse nods, “Sure, take a seat.” He begins to guide the two youngest members through the basics, while you and Robaire put the finishing touches to your own projects.

“Everything’s messy,” Robaire whines a bit, examining his hands with vague disgust, “it’s stressing me out.”

You laugh at the perfectionist, actually finding the clay’s softness somehow soothing. “Think it’s just part of the process you gotta accept.”

“Hmm,” Robaire picks bits of wet clay from his fingernails, “I dunno if that’s possible for me.”

“Here,” Z throws Robaire a clean rag as he makes his way back from the kiln. Robaire gives Z a grateful nod, while the latter sits next you. “That’s cool, Y/N.”

You smile over at Z. “Thanks, I still can’t get the shape quite right thou-“

“A LA MIERDA ESTA MIERDA- THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE!!”

The ear-piercing screech comes from none other than T. It seems that after just two minutes of throwing clay, he’s already demolished his attempts by slamming his hands on the wheel. The action causes wet clay to sputter everywhere, and Robaire grimaces as a fair amount clings to his skin.

“T! Look what you did!” Jesse scolds, hands on hips.

-

“You all done, T? I’ll fire your bowl.”

Instead of handing over the unfired ceramic dish to Jesse, T clasps it tighter. Looking up at the blonde with somber eyes, T’s bottom lip quivers. “You’re gonna what?”

Jesse’s eyebrows crinkle with confusion, “I’m gonna fire your bowl”

“NO! NOT ON MY WATCH!”

The sudden outburst takes everyone by surprise. In fact, Robaire’s mug splatters everywhere, making even more of a mess, “Goddam-“

“-YOU WON’T GET AWAY WITH THIS!”

T continues ranting, refusing to pass his bowl over to Jesse’s grabbing hands. “T, chill out man!”

“NO! YOU WON’T PUT MY BOWL OUT OF WORK!”

By this point, you and Tae are holding T back in a futile attempt to settle him, but Jesse finally manages to take the dish. Suddenly, you realize T’s confusion.

“T, Jesse’s gonna fire it in the kiln.”

Unfortunately, this doesn’t seem to lessen T’s distress. “YOU’RE KILLING JOEL THE BOWL?” The tussle between T and Jesse continues, the former screeching offensively, “THERE’LL BE CLAY ON YOUR HANDS!”

At that, Z slaps his hand across his face and Robaire looks equally unimpressed. Tae attempts to unravel T’s warped logic, while you’re honestly just trying not to laugh. “T, kiln, not kill!”

After Jesse carefully explains the process of firing T’s bowl to him, and reassures him that no ceramics will be harmed or made redundant in the process, he settles down.

“Thank God, I dunno what I’d do without Joel the bowl.”

“Joel the bowl?” Z snickers, “You named it?”

“It? Is that a polite way to refer to my handmade kitchenware?”

“Yes.”

Jesse sighs. “I’m implementing a new rule: no bickering, shouting or clay slamming in the art studio.”

—

Do you want me to write more for this?

Also, I wondered if anyone would want me to create a tag list on my posts? I’ve been thinking about it for a while. If you wanna be added, lemme know!

Musing Meaninglessly Masterlist

[starknature]

I'll update this post daily because I don't want to keep posting over and over 💀

Day 1: Stats

SW: 98lbs? I might have realized I had a problem a bit before that but I genuinely don't remember.

HW: 115lbs, I was 15/16 and Jesus given my proportions it was so bad.

Lw: 82.5

Current weight is 84

BMI: 14.9.

I want to at least get down to 80lbs but I'll take as low as I can get and still be able to maintain my job.

Day 2:

I'm 5'3", and no, I do not. Too short lol, causes intense dysphoria.

Day 3:

They're similar to my build, just thinner. They don't have the extra fat I do. I think these pictures are my favourite thinsp0

Day 4: my greatest fear is that I'll have to quit for my job, or that I'll be forced to recover if my family notices.

Day 5: I first wanted to lose weight because I have very round features, I have a round face, its all very feminine. I can't medically transition right now where I live, and I'm more angular and masculine looking when I'm thinner. Boobs are made of fat, the women in my family carry their weight around the middle and in the hips and I refuse to gain anymore, and I need to lose what I've got. I'm not a woman and it's throwing off my silhouette. It's gotten to the point where I now realize I'm fat regardless, and especially where I carry it is unacceptable and unnecessary.

Day 6: I don't think that my binging technically fits the criteria because at most I eat a couple to a few hundred calories over my limit, but I do feel in the moment like I can't stop, and it's still going over my limit so I count it as binging.

Day 7: I know my mom knows to some extent, but I don't have to worry about her doing anything about it because I don't live with her. Noone else really notices, fortunately, except for my brother that recognized it because of his own eating disorder.

Day 8: I have chronic pain so I don't exercise much outside of work, I'll go on long walks though when my joints let me out of the house💀 at work I'm running back and forth across a store and carrying heavy crap, and it's a mile away from the house so that helps with getting my steps in.

Day 9: my curves, chubby face and where I carry fat around my hips heavily contribute to my misgendering, although not the sole reason. Family members also used to make comments frequently.

Day 10: DR. PEPPER!!! THE DIET/0 SUGAR TASTES LIKE CRAP. Also my Autistic Comfort Food™️ dollar spicy ramen bowl. I'd eat one every day istg, half the time I'd omad it but literally a month before I relapsed hard, the guilt got to be too much LMFAO

Day 11: I don't necessarily have a favourite thinspo blog? But I do keep up with DecomposedMoon on twt.

Day 12: Sometimes 100cal oatmeal with flax seeds, I'll eat rice cakes with a little whipped strawberry cream cheese, those 70cal protein buffalo tuna salad packs, idk. I'm just getting into making shakes and I ordered vanilla protein powder so excited about that.

Day 13: I'm trying to mainly eat healthy foods but am definitely restricting more than is considered healthy, so an unhealthy way.

[fourseasonsfigs]

Moonlight Night

Day Two of this Junzhe Extended Universe week continues with this beautiful fig. Here we have Zhang Zhehan as Long Feiye in The Legend of Yunxi, the show I still haven't made any progress in since the last time I posted a Long Feiye fig.

Long Feiye is Prince Qin, the cold, noble prince with the heart of gold. He very rarely smiles, we are lucky to have this one with a quirky sideways smile - my favorite! He does actually have this smile in the poster for the show:

Similar to a number of Long Feiye figs, the name of this fig is a variant on "night". The “ye” in Long Feiye’s name 龙非夜 up there in the poster is the same as the character for night (夜), so that becomes an easy shorthand for fig makers. The name Moonlight Night for this fig is particularly appropriate since Zhehan is wearing white moonlight colored robes.

I've become a big fan (ahaha, inadvertent pun, I promise!) of these polystyrene boxes. I just got a big shipment of figs where I tried not air column wrapping all these resin figs in these type of boxes. They all arrived unscathed. Not a broken fig in the bunch. I lost a couple of Wen Kexing hairpin ends, but that's totally typical since it's such a delicate piece (ironically, those were figs I did air column bubble wrap!).

You're getting enormously cute, very blurry eyes in exchange for sharper focus on his fan-holding hand. You can see the little valley where his fan will sit. I will note the fan just sat in that little fan-holding valley very, very loosely. If I just exhaled too hard in his general direction, the fan fell out! I really hate to do anything permanent to my figs, but in this case the fan got glued in. There was nothing to be done.

Speaking of fans, both sides of the fan are black. I was hoping one of the sides would have the beautiful flower blossom branch like you see in the picture, but no. It would have been beautiful, but I guess this way the focus goes to the fig's face vs an ornate fan.

His little smile is particularly charming from this angle!

So cute! Something about the proportions of this fig seem extra adorable to me - I think because the hair style makes the big round head extra-chibi.

Just a broad expanse of white flowy robes in the back. I really like the gentle waves of fabric so we get a sense of volume and weight.

I also love that we have a full decoration on the back of his guan. The fig makers really do try to get all the details they can.

As you can tell, this fig stands quite well. His feet aren't overly tiny and balance him nicely.

The fan looks really good. Nice and straight set. Even though I would have liked the fan to be patterned, the black really works with the overall color theme.

The smile is great from this angle, too!

That guan is something. I don't really care for the general guzhuang style of severe, tightly pulled back hair with an enormous teetering hair crown. Long Feiye's hair at least is not pulled back tightly, but I still prefer when the hairdressers give more volume and bangs / wispies around the face. Just softens the over all look I think. That being said, this fig is perfectly, perfectly adorable!

This is a pretty good angle to see his waist ornament. It's not very detailed, it's more a little bit of ornamental color here to coordinate with the overall outfit.

The fig maker did a beautiful job with the detailing on the guan. I love, love, love that it actually has cutouts, and you can see the bound up hair in the inside. What a great detail.

You can see one of the cutouts a little more clearly here.

Beautiful box cards! I love it when the fig makers design art scenes on the cards.

If you like Long Feiye, let me just make a shameless plug for my all time favorite Long Feiye fig, which is part of a pair in Tianshu Beichen -Dog's Blood Drama. If you haven't seen it, it's totally worth checking out, I promise. Zombie Prince Long Feiye? yes please!

Material: Resin

Fig Count: 408

Scene Count: 29

Rating: The moonlight is beautiful tonight

[link back to Master Fig Index for more posts]

[raptorbricksart]

Let's give this a go with my OCs

Glance

Clara

- she's pretty generic looking all things considered, that said, she is pretty tall by skyfolk standards. Were she from our world, she'd be like 6'2'' or 6'3''

Maya

- probably her hair having natural bright pink roots.

Martha

- that'd be her arm. Big shiny metal prosthetic.

Katie

- she's really small. Skyfolk are already short, but she comes in almost a foot smaller than most.

Peter

- he's pretty different from other sea folk, pale, blonde, green eyes, while most are at least tanned with darker eyes

Face

Clara

- soft, warm and freckled. Big ol' brown eyes too

Maya

- she's got herself a strong jaw and nose. Tired brown eyes, but sometimes a little shine of magenta

Martha

- soft and squishy, big ol' glasses

Katie

- Sharp features with piercing green eyes. Often has a big of a resting scowl. Shows a little aging up close (got a bit of a Chilchuck thing going)

Peter

- a little sad looking. Don't worry, he just looks like that

Stature

Clara

- solid build, not the most feminine proportions, and a bit chunky round the middle. Pretty standard skyfolk, if a bit tall (5'6'')

Maya

- a little over 6'6'', smaller chest, toned build. Looks like she could pick up and throw you if she wanted.

Martha

- plump, but strong, fairly large bust. About average height for skyfolk

Katie

- thin, but fit, 4'3'', a little broad shouldered, completely flat chest. She tries to make herself seem taller where she can.

Peter

- lanky and not particularly muscular.

Gonna put a cut here because this is getting to be a long post, the rest is in the read more thingy ⤵️

Any other questions about them? My asks are always open to talk about them!

Motion

Clara

- a little clumsy, has fallen off her island once (she's fine, they put nets around the edge). Not so bad when she's cautious .

Maya

- her long legs carry her very fast. Moves with confidence. Get out of her way, lest she might accidentally elbow you in the face.

Martha

- moves pretty leisurely, but is a little more athletic than her fatter build would let on so can run pretty fast. Not always the most aware of her surroundings, hence the prosthetic arm.

Katie

- fast and will climb everything. Her little legs mean she has to jog to keep up with Maya's walking pace. Incredibly good coordination.

Peter

- cautious and quiet, but fast. Often accidentally sneaks up on people.

Stillness

Clara

- lots of fidgeting, swinging legs tapping hands, chewing things

Maya

- not much to speak of

Martha

- usually playing with tools or her arm

Katie

- not much fidgeting, but tends to place herself high up somewhere

Peter

- always holding something tight

Canvas

Clara

- warm light skin, lightly freckled, a few redder splotches

Maya

- dark brown skin with a deep reddish tone. A number of tattoos across her body and a few minor burn scars on her arms (accidents happen)

Martha

- soft pale skin, usual has a couple minor scrapes but nothing major (not counting the missing arm), has stickers all over her prosthetic and a little tattoo on her other arm

Katie

- peachy skin, heavily freckled, has a little matching tattoo with Martha, and a couple minor scars from falling off things and getting into fights

Peter

- has a scar on his leg and a little birth mark on his hand that mirrors his twin sister's

Night

Clara

- has some nice cosy PJ's, plaid button up top and matching bottoms

Maya

- just pulls on an old shirt and some underwear

Martha

- usually just some shorts. Might pull on a shirt if it's cold or there's guests

Katie

- uses Martha's old shirts, they're big enough to make big nightgowns for her

Peter

- shorts and an old shirt

Day

Clara

- Usually she'll wear a big jumper, comfy trousers and fluffy socks

Maya

- usually wearing a tank top over a sports bra and some practical trousers. Most of her clothes have a fire resistant treatment of some kind

Martha

- Not much consistency, though she likes to wear either comfy flowy clothes like her apron dress, or just full on work gear

Katie

- practical clothing, something that allows for mobility.

Peter - baggy clothes, would dress like Sans Undertale

Formal

Clara

- doesn't have formal clothes, not a huge thing in skyfolk culture. She does, however have some jumpers set aside so she has something that doesn't look rough if she needs to look nice

Maya

- has several snazzy button up shirts and tailored dress trousers for such occasions

- she also has a cool long jacket which she brings out of its appropriate/cold

Martha

- no formal only clothes, but will usually make something for the occasion

Katie

- custom made suit and a cool hat

Peter

- hates formality, will usually borrow something off his sister

Informal

Clara

- much the same as any regular day, maybe swapping to something a bit lighter if it's not too cold

Maya

- sticking with the tank top, but she has loose skirts and shorts for off days

Martha

- whatevers comfy (and at the top of the clothing pile)

Katie

- t-shirt and swim trunks

Peter

- PJs or just the regular outfit. Skirt on the hot days

Footwear

Clara

- slip-on shoes or walking shoes, depends what she's up to that day

Maya

- sturdy boots (custom ordered, with supportive insoles)

Martha

- sandals, legally distinct foam clogs, steel toe cap boots

Katie

- lightweight shoes with good grip

Peter

- waterproof boots, a gift from his sister after he got the job on Maya's ship

Arms

Maya

- standard self defense training and a bit of fire magic

Katie

- very proficient with a bow

Roots

Clara

- her general outfit pulls from winter clothes with a focus on materials that can be handmade

Maya

- Maya's outfits are intended to give her a strong presence

Martha

- she's just purely having fun with it. Comfy clothing, without much interest in being fashionable

Katie

- all her outfits are somewhat sporty, and often feature a fair bit of green

Peter

- just comfort clothing for him.

Texture

Clara

- likes soft clothing, anything scratchy and she's having a bad day. Heavy fabrics are good too

Maya

- not particularly bothered about texture, however likes clothing that fits snuggly but not too tight

Martha

- soft clothing again, but prioritises functionality

Katie

- light weight clothing, needs to fit just right

Wardrobe

Clara

- dresses pretty similar most days, she has a fair few of pretty similar clothes

Maya

- pretty simple wardrobe. Can fit most of her clothes in a single suitcase

Martha

- huge wardrobe, something for all weathers and situations

Katie

- decent selection, has a lot of green clothes

Peter

- decent amount, not much variety

Bling

Clara

- has a few pendants made from cool rocks she found

Maya

- has a couple necklaces and some earrings, though doesn't wear them often

Martha

- tongue piercing, and has a few necklaces, ear piercings and bracelets. Favourite is a set of jewelry made from nuts, bolts and gears

Hair

Clara

- slightly scruffy brown hair, she doesn't style it particularly, just keeps it trimmed to about shoulder length

Maya

- long curly black hair, grows it out very long. Generally wears it loose, though will tie it back when working

Martha

- thick black hair with a subtle purple sheen (kinda crow-like), experiments a lot with styles.

Katie

- ginger hair, cut very short. If she lets it grow, it's very curly

Peter

- shaggy blonde hair, about shoulder length

Makeup

Clara

- no makeup, doesn't particularly like it

Maya

- most days, no makeup. Sometimes does a little but not often

Martha

- likes to experiment, most days goes for a bit of eyeliner. Some days does like full goth makeup

Katie

- likes eyeliner, but doesn't wear much else

Peter

- make up isn't his vibe

oc asks: character design edition

FACE & FEATURES

glance: At first glance, what stands out most about your OC's appearance? What's their distinguishing feature?

face: Describe your OC's face. What's their smile like? Are their orbs cerulean? What would someone notice first when looking at them?

stature: What's your OC's body type? How tall are they? Do they wear clothing to accentuate their look or do they try to mask it?

motion: How does your OC move? How does their clothing help or hinder their range of motion? Are they flexible, coordinated, clumsy?

stillness: How does your OC act while still? Are they fidgety? Do they have any common gestures or tics? Does their clothing affect how they hold themselves while at rest?

canvas: Does your OC have any scars, piercings, tattoos, or other markings? Do they display or cover them up at all?

CUT & CLOTHES

night: What does your OC wear to sleep? Do they have a favorite pair of PJs, or are they more the birthday suit type?

day: What does your OC wear on a normal day? Why do they default to those clothes? Do they wear similar things, or do they change it up?

formal: What's your OC's formal look? Do they like dressing up? Do they have different looks for different occasions?

informal: What's your OC's lazy-day look? How do they like to dress when they're winding down?

outerwear: What's your OC's outerwear situation? Jacket, sweater, cloak? What sort of weather do they deal with most and how do they protect themselves?

footwear: What does your OC wear on their feet?

road: What does your OC wear while traveling? Do they have high-quality equipment, or are they making do? What does their gear look like?

armor: What kind of armor does your OC wear? Is it well kept? Bonus: where does it come from? Is there a story behind it?

arms: Does your OC have any weapons? What weapons do they carry, and how do they wear them when they're not fighting?

roots: Is your OC's look inspired by any specific style of clothing or fashion trend? What are the roots and/or inspiration for their look?

texture: Does your OC favor any specific kinds of cloth or textures? Is there anything they can't wear or don't like? What sort of fabrics do they prefer?

wardrobe: How big is your character's wardrobe? Do they wear things threadbare, or can they afford new clothes often? Are they any good at mending and repairing their own clothing?

ACCESSORIES & ACCENTS

bling: What jewelry does your OC wear? Does it have any meaning?

hair: How does your OC wear their hair? Does it have some kind of meaning?

makeup: Does your OC wear makeup? How often? What kind? Why do they wear makeup, and do they like it?

favorite: Does your OC have a favorite article of clothing or accessory? What is it? What's the meaning behind it? Do they wear it all the time or do they wear it sparingly to keep it safe?

change: Has your OC ever drastically changed their appearance? Significant haircuts, big tattoos, complete wardrobe swap, etc? Why? How do they feel about the change?

alternate: What would your OC's alternate universe look be? If they're a fantasy character, what's their modern look? If they're sci-fi, what's their fantasy look? What AU would you want to see your OC in, and how would they dress themself? Bonus: Prompt an AU!

[cuuno-moved]

A Study of Love in the Universe Itself

a jlethubs fic

Some say that Hermitcraft is the oldest server in the universe. Built from the early dusts, formed from the first clay.

Some say that its inhabitants are gods. Powerful and mighty and vengeful gods, with eyes that blaze with a holy fire and heads crowned in haloes.

Some say that they were the first beings ever crafted by the Devs. Created even before mobs, even before the first portals. Like their server, older than time itself.

Some say that, upon joining, you lose your human face, and become something new. You cease to be a mortal, cease to resemble one at all, and instead your form becomes one of unknowable proportions, unseeable power.

Some- and these were the stories that the Hermitcraft "gods" shared among themselves in giggles and whispers- some say that the admin is The Poem. The Universe that speaks to you in The End, the Void Itself. They certainly sounded like It.

Of course, all of these rumors had a bit of truth to them.

Hermitcraft wasn't the oldest server in the universe, although it was close, and it certainly was the oldest one to keep going, to keep living on, unabandoned.

Not all the inhabitants were gods, just a select few, and Doc was a god-killer (even scarier: he was a dev-killer) which made him some sort of god himself, although he didn't much care for the title. He'd rather people fear him for his intelligence than his ability to put a god down.

Not all the inhabitants were crafted by Devs, only Iskall, which was something that she didn't particularly take much pride in, either. She preferred to be viewed as just as human and non-divine as anyone else, thank you, even if she was a good deal older than even the earth she stood on.

Only a couple people had lost their Faces upon joining Hermitcraft, namely Keralis, although he didn't lose his so much as change it, rapidly, enough that it was unrecognizable from his Old Face. His eyes had grown wider than should be possible and his mouth a gaping hole. It's not like he wasn't human, just that he didn't look much like one.

And Xisuma, as powerful and ancient as they were, weren't really the Universe, only a bit of It, in the same way that a leaf wasn't a tree, or a cloud wasn't the sky. The comparison was far too strong to be apples and oranges, but not nearly strong enough to be quite the same thing.

The full truth about the server and the players was something that was hardly shared at all outside of its firewalls, a truth that few- if anyone- recognized as such.

The truth was, Hermitcraft was a refugee server, although it wasn't just for anyone. Scorned gods, fallen angels, killers and monsters, war heroes and spirits of forests that had been burnt to the ground, beings made of love and creatures built from hatred.

And Joe Hills.

Joe Hills, who had no stories or legends. Joe Hills, who was neither ancient nor powerful. Joe Hills, who, to this day, had yet to disprove his mortality.

Of course, he assumed he was mortal, because, as far as he knew, he was a human- and not human in the same way that xB or Bdubs or Iskall were human- they were only human through technicality, Joe was human in the real, actual sense.

His skin was soft and pliable, his heart beat just enough to move his red blood through his veins. He stood at a reasonable 5'9" and had to wear glasses because his eyesight wasn't phenomenal these days. His hair was made of hair, his ears were small and round, he couldn't particularly fight and his poetry was for fun, not prophecy.

Granted, he'd made it a bit longer than most humans would have made it if they lived on a server so ripe with power- 48 was nothing to scoff at when your closest companion was a zombie who was known for turning corpses into puppets and statues. However, he hadn't lived for long enough or dangerously enough to decide whether he was just fortunate or if he had any immunity past that point.

He hadn't even joined Hermitcraft in the Right Way. He was a mistake, whitelisted by Xisuma on accident when they tried to whitelist someone else. He was no refugee of lore, no soldier or criminal or god-killer, merely a man, merely a blip in the universe.

Cleo (a war hero, a fallen soldier, a monster) called him lucky for it. She said his liveliness, his humanity, made him better than anyone else.

He thought that was a strange thing to be better for.

In his eyes, she was better than him by leagues- perfect in a way that no one else could ever be perfect- strong and unafraid, willing to listen to him ramble or cry or laugh, but more than able to quiet him down if he needed it, able to pull him out of his mind and into the world, able to bring him to himself, but not inside of himself. Able to breathe life into him.

They weren't lovers.

Not quite.

Love had a strange meaning on Hermitcraft, where everyone loved each other.

You could say that Tango and Zedaph and Impulse were in love, if the way that they held each other meant anything.

Or you could say that Keralis and xB were in love, if the secret whispers between them that everyone had heard meant anything.

Or you could say (and most people did) that Grian and Scar were in love, if the way they hadn't left each other's sides in seasons meant anything.

But could you really say that?

Because holding a friend was the same as holding a lover, if you chose to think of it that way, and xB was far from the only person Keralis had ever called Princess. And, besides, Grian and Doc hadn't really left each other alone in seasons and what lay between them was love in the same way a pipe bomb was a box of chocolates.

So, really, love was a bit of a blurred term on the server.

And, yes, if you were to ask Joe what he felt for Cleo, he'd likely tell you it was love. He did love her, like a drowning man loved air or a forest fire loved pine needles.

And if you asked her, she might say the same. She might admit she loved the strange little man with his poetry and ink stained fingers. She might admit that she loved his voice, his rambling way of speaking, his drawl that bordered on slurred speech when he was tired. She might admit that she wanted to hold him, wanted to press kiss after kiss to his silly head, to his grinning lips, to his blushing cheeks.

However, there was no way of knowing, because, as far as Joe knew, no one had asked her.

And so, they were at an impasse.

It wasn't until things began to change, until the King's Court began, that he actually addressed it, and even then, he did so in a typical Joe Hills fashion, avoiding the actual point while he spoke circles around himself.

"What do you think?" He asked. "Could a ship love an anchor?"

Cleo hardly looked up from her notebook, where she'd been scribbling plans to overthrow the government (and even that was attractive to Joe, the knowledge that she had so much rage and chaos in her soul and yet she remained so gentle with him) to answer. "What do you mean?"

"Like, something that could travel the world, something with all the freedom you could imagine. Could it love the thing holding it back?"

"Well," Cleo took a moment to chew on the tip of her pen, her toxic green eyes slipping up to him for a moment. "The anchor is what keeps it in port, innit? For repairs and such? So, the anchor is what saves the ship."

Joe hummed, nodding. "I never thought of it that way. Perhaps the anchor loves the ship. Perhaps the anchor is just glad to be along for the journey."

"Perhaps," Cleo said, looking up for real now, and something in her face told Joe exactly what he needed to know: that she understood now what he was talking about. "Perhaps the ship is glad the anchor is along for the journey. And it loves it back."

Joe smiled, and she smiled back.

They never put a word to it. They didn't really need to. They loved each other, in that lightheaded, giddy way that children love each other, and while it was far from practical and would probably not last long, it was nice. So they continued to love each other like that, happy and unbothered.

It was surreal to him.

The idea that such a holy, beautiful thing as Cleo could love him was a wild idea indeed, and it made his head spin to think of it.

He didn't tell her about his doubts, didn't tell her he viewed her like that, because he knew she'd say something about him being beautiful in his own way, or talk about his humanity like it was something to be proud of, in love with.

So he didn't tell her.

And then, one day, Cleo brought news.

"I believe," She began, sinking into the couch beside Joe, tucking her bare, cold toes under his warm thigh. "The ship has fallen in love with a sailor?"

"Oh?" Joe asked, then, just to be safe, "And does it still love the anchor?"

"More than anything," She wiggled her toes, and her unclipped toenails scratched his skin, and he smiled at her. "But it also loves a sailor."

"And… is there a problem with that? Something keeping them apart?"

"Wouldn't be a good story otherwise," She bared those yellowed teeth at him. "And I know how you love a story."

"I do," He turned to her, putting down his book. "What's the conflict?"

"The sailor," She paused, thinking. "Works on another boat."

"Mhm. Can he work on both?"

"Probably," She sighed, leaning against the arm of the couch. "But unfortunately, that ship is the king's ship. And Our Ship is a pirate ship."

Joe laughed at that, incredulous. "Is your sailor, perhaps, the captain of the king's ship?"

"He is!" Cleo cried, flinging an arm over her eyes. "This is a disaster!"

"Well," Joe thought about it for a second. "I don't know if it helps, but I believe our anchor might have some feelings for the captain too."

"I didn't realize it spent so much time with him!" Cleo laughed, intrigued. "Much less enough time to fall in love."

"It's not love," Joe chuckled, flushing. "It's just… what little time it's spent with him was nice, and it might… it probably will end up loving him too, especially if the ship does."

Cleo gasped, delighted, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek. "Well then! We'll have to see if we can get the captain on board!"

It turns out, it was quite easy to get Bdubs on board.

Joe hadn't been lying when he said he'd likely fall in love with Bdubs beside her. When he'd seen Bdubs shriek with delight, lifting Cleo off her feet and swinging her around like she wasn't a head taller and a hundred pounds heavier than him, something in his chest had ached. Not in an unpleasant, jealous way, but in a warm, healthy way.

Things got a good deal more complicated.

They still hadn't put a name to things, although Cleo and Bdubs had and Joe felt a bit guilty knowing it was his fault they didn't have a title.

"Would partners suffice?" He asked, really late one night, while they lay in the grass. "Or, boyfriend and girlfriend?"

"Who gets to be the girlfriend?" Cleo asked. "And who's boyfriend?"

"I'll be whichever you don't want."

"I don't think I've ever gotten to be boyfriend," She said. "Sounds like a riot."

"Okay, I'll be girlfriend then," He bumped his hand against hers. "Sounds good."

It also complicated the matter of the rebellion.

Joe hadn't been really involved at all, in fact, he considered himself mostly loyal to the king, but it was a fun little thing to be a part of, especially since he had no stakes on who won. If the resistance failed, then he was the king's left hand man. If it succeeded, he was dating the resistance leader.

Obviously, Cleo couldn't tell Bdubs that she planned on overthrowing his boss, the man he crowned king, but he must have figured it out on his own, because he began to sprinkle propaganda into conversation. Being Bdubs, he was terrible at it, far from subtle, but it was endearing at worst, and horribly adorable at best.

Joe did quite like him. The smaller man was passionate, to a fault almost, and quite handsome, with soft hair and gentle eyes. Joe wasn't sure if it was real love, but he figured it was close enough.

"Since we share Cleo," Joe started, carefully. "I was wondering if you'd be interested in… closing the loop."

"Wha'd'ya mean?" Bdubs asked, glancing up from the stone he was carving. His hair was dusted with grey dust, his cheeks streaked with chalk. He wore a tank top and Joe took a second to appreciate his shoulder muscles as he set down the brick he had in his hand. "Close the loop?"

"Ah, well," Joe hesitated. He was usually quite good at talking, but this was a strange situation. "Um. Would you be interested in a date?"

Bdubs' eyes got even wider, and for a moment, Joe thought he'd laugh, but then he lunged forward, grabbing Joe's shoulders and dragging him into a hug. "Oh yes, I'd love that, oh my gosh, this- oh-!"

Joe laughed, hugging him back, cheeks comfortably warm.

They told Cleo together, Bdubs writhing around like a worm on a wet sidewalk, Joe blushing and stammering.

"I've never had to confess my feelin's before," He admitted to her later. "We never did that."

"Sure we did," She grinned, raising an eyebrow. "We just didn't do it the same way that most people do."

"Do you think Bdubs would understand if I started calling him the captain?"

Cleo laughed at that, but didn't answer the question, no doubt assuming it to be a joke.

So, Joe decided to experiment.

They were in court one evening, just the three of them, cleaning up after a meeting. Cleo was sweeping while Bdubs picked up trash and Joe wiped off the table.

"Hey, can you toss this for me?" Bdubs asked, holding out a plastic cup across the table to Joe. "This trash can's full."

"Yessir, captain, sir." Joe did a little salute.

Cleo snorted across the room, but Bdubs glowed, bouncing on his toes a little bit, blushing very prettily.

Oh, Joe was definitely a little bit in love. Or maybe more than a little bit. Maybe a lot.

Bdubs was different from Cleo in every imaginable way- he was loud where she was quiet, passionate where she was reserved. Her heart came from a place of simmering anger, his from a place on unshakable glee. He was nothing like her, but something about him seemed… ethereal in the same way she was.

And Joe was enamored by him.

And, somehow, miraculously, he loved him back.

Another way in which Bdubs was different from Cleo was the fact that he was so much easier to talk to, so much more approachable.

"Bdubs," Joe asked, casually, one early morning, watching the man cook some bacon and eggs for the three of them. "Why do you like me?"

"Because," Bdubs said, then paused. "Because, because, because, you're smart?"

"Is that it?"

"No. I mean, that's a huge chunk of it, but… hm, how do I phrase this," Bdubs put down the spatula, turning to face him. "You're like… you know people. Like, you know when people are tired or angry or sad and you know how to fix that. And you know… you know how to make me happy."

"You're always happy," Joe chuckled. "That doesn't count."

"I'm not, actually," Bdubs' voice was soft, and when Joe looked up, he was smiling. "I'm not always happy. But I am when I'm around you."

Joe blinked at him.

"Oh," He said, then, smiling now, again. "Oh."

"Oh," Bdubs repeated back at him, smiling, turning back to the eggs. "I like you because you understand people, I guess."

Cleo walked in, irritated and covered in dust, and the conversation turned once more, this time to whatever nonsense was happening with her, but Joe couldn't stop smiling to himself.

He understood people.

He didn't think he did, he thought he was poor at emotions and clumsy with conversation, and yet here was Bdubs, saying he understood people.

What a strange concept.

Bdubs was the next to present a complication.

"Look, I like him, a lot," He started, gazing at them earnestly (when has he ever done anything that wasn't completely and totally earnest in nature?) and clasping his hands under his chin. "And I was wondering if you'd be okay with me asking him out?"

"Joe?" Cleo asked, glancing at him. "What do you think?"

"Um," Joe rubbed his chin. "I can't really think of a reason to say no. You?"

"Not really," Cleo crossed her arms over her chest. "So. You plan to ask him to… what, join the polycule? Or just date you?"

"I was planning on just him dating me," Bdubs paused, raising an eyebrow. "Unless… you want him to join the polycule?"

"Let's say I do," Cleo tilted her head. "What then?"

"I'm on board with it!" Bdubs clapped excitedly. "Joe, would you mind?"

"Not a bit," Joe smiled. "Although I guess it's up to him, in the end, ain't it?"

And then it fell to Ethoslab.

Etho was the opposite of Joe, in the same way Bdubs was the opposite of Cleo.

While Joe was small, human, full of words and life and meaningless chatter, Etho was old, infinite and unlimited, full of the void, and space and stars and power and a great unfathomable silence. It was old in a way that nothing else was old, powerful in a way the human mind couldn't comprehend. It had been creating for longer than creation was a thing, and whispering into the cosmos for longer than speech was imaginable.

And it was impossible not to love.

They cornered hush at the intersection of a couple streets in the shopping district, almost subconsciously fanning out to surround hush, block off any getaways, before Bdubs stepped forward, puffed up his chest, and asked the question.

Etho stared at him.

It wasn't a mean stare, just an Ethoslab stare, one eyebrow ever so slightly quirked, eyes not quite narrow, head tilted just enough to make long white hair slip from its shoulders and down its back.

"I don't… do love," It finally said, tensely. "Sorry."

"Well," Bdubs said, unphased. "Would you be willing to give dating a shot? You don't have to love me- love us- but we love you anyways."

"So…" Etho set down the shopping bags hush was carrying, adjusting hush's gloves absently as it thought. "You like me, I don't like you, and we date?"

"Yeah exactly! You get it!"

"Okay, but I've got some requirements," It glanced around at them all. "First of all, no cuddles. And no kisses."

"Done, no problem," Joe threw a thumbs up. "What else?"

"Don't tell anyone, unless I told them first," Etho said, looking like it was ready for them to argue. "And I don't want Beef to know, he'd tease me for it for millenia."

"Got it," Bdubs agreed. "Anything else?"

"No, I-" Etho paused, tilting hush's head, thinking for a second, before shrugging. "No, that should be it."

"It all sounds good to me," Bdubs said, beaming giddily. "Can I call you pet names?"

"Uh… no. your pet names are incoherent," Etho said warily. "I don't want to have to explain what a spoinkly or whatever is to someone."

"Well, I'll explain it then," Bdubs shrugged. "What fun is a relationship if you can't give each other cute nicknames?"

"'Blorbo' isn't a cute nickname," Cleo chortled. "It's hardly a sound!"

"Well I think it's adorable," Joe said, swinging an arm around Bdubs' shoulders. "You can call me whatever you like, Bdubs."

Together, they made an odd group.

Cleo was an undead monster, a beast of rage and power, a being of unquestionable danger. And Joe loved her.

Bdubs was a strange, off-kilter being in between human and divine, time and fear and reality sliding over him like water on a duck's wing. And Joe loved him.

Etho was a god, almost, old as reality and powerful as the Universe, built of the same impossible qualities as The Poem itself. And, while Joe wasn't sure whether the crushing feeling in his chest was love or fear, he certainly felt an awful lot of something for it.

And Joe was just a man, just a blip in the universe. One day, he'd die, and the others wouldn't, and he'd be forgotten.

But for now, they loved him.

[banqdanfnfic]

which, as they kiss, consume | jjk

you just wanted to get a tattoo from your boyfriend

pairing: tattoo artist!jk x reader

genre: established relationships au, tattoo artist au, smut

word count: 4k

warnings: unprotected sex, biting, making out, grinding, licking, nipple play, jk has a lip ring, oral (f receiving), fingering, shy jk and oc, sexual tension, slight choking, slight aftercare

♫ : Streets by Doja Cat, Candy by Doja Cat

♡ Aesthetics: Playlist | Moodboard

He visibly chokes on his glass of beer as he almost snaps his neck to meet your gaze. He could say that you were awfully drunk and hence the sudden confession out of the blue, but behind your heavy lidded eyes, Jungkook could sense that you were serious.

“You what?”, he gulps abruptly, moving closer to your face, doe eyes pleading to repeat yourself.

“Yes Kook. I want that tattoo on my breasts. I’ve decided”.

It’s not that Jungkook didn’t have experience in his career with inking on different parts of a human body. He just had never given a tattoo to someone who is romantically associated with him and the thought of seeing you half naked made him chuck down the rest of his drink in one go.

The most physical he had ever gotten with you was a kiss shared occasionally since it’s only been over two weeks you had started dating. Okay maybe you made out once in his car but that’s it. It never got to the point of shedding clothes or anything intense.

“Are you sure?”

You giggle at the sudden hoarseness in his voice and nod positive. Ironic how his aura never matched his personality. His inked skin, athletic body proportions covered in black monochrome bad boy outfits gave out default energy that he is a local heartthrob with multiple chicks wrapped around his finger each night and a heavy demeanor to carry in his smirk.

You were one of those believers until Jungkook asked you out in the most hopeless romantic way possible after constantly visiting the café you work in, a few shops besides his parlor. He was a gentleman with respectful boundaries, warm hands to hold yours and sweet sensual kisses though you are pretty sure he probably has a good game.

For any outsider it looked like those cliché bad boy and shy girl love stories, but for real both of you were a good percentage of introverts.

Jungkook runs his tongue around his lip ring while he is stressfully ruffling his dark locks into a mess. He is trying to explain his reasons to postpone your decision considering how shy he got at this point. But then that’s exactly why you were requesting him with soft eyes, it would be so uncomfortable to be shirtless in front of anybody else. Or maybe it’s your way of saying the relationship is open for higher levels of physical affection.

After debating around in vain, he finally hums and clears one of his slots for his beloved client.

Friday approaches way quicker than you assumed and now your heart is beating in your throat. Right after you are done cleaning the tables, you have to make it to Jungkook’s parlor for your appointment.

Running on three hours of sleep, black under eyes even after a decent amount of makeup, you groan as you check yourself out in the mirror. You opted for a simple shirt and skirt (also known as the outfit you bought for occasions with Jungkook), light beach waves resting on your shoulders. Hoping that a few cups of coffee will save you, you stride across the street to stop before the infamous parlor he worked in. Hopefully the full body shave and chocolate body butter has kept its excellence on your skin below the clothing.

The door chimes as it opens with a dragged creak on the musky wooden flooring. It felt like an otherworld where air smelled like men’s perfume and faint tint of cigarettes. In other words, intoxicating.

You ask the first person you meet at the reception, one of Jungkook’s companions at the shop and he assists you to his cabin located at a comfortably remote location.

His space is hidden with a simple black curtain. You are met with Jungkook’s back facing you, working determinately on a client’s arm and cares to spare a glance only when the guy with you is informing him about your presence.

“This will be over in a few”, he grins to your face and goes back to focusing his coil on the skin of a woman in her late twenties laying down his chair. The vibration from his inking machine fills in the silence and you excuse yourself to sit on a small black couch beside them.

This was the first time watching him at work and now you can understand why people rumored so much about his attitude because damn it is intimidating.

Brows knit together and inked muscles flex as he drags the needles around for finishing touches. Meanwhile you can pretty much smell the drool from the woman who is shamelessly checking out your boyfriend. Though you are pretty sure Jungkook gets such glances more than he can count every day, you can’t help but feel jealous. Partly because of the childish possessiveness and partly because you want to be the reason behind his dark eyes and intricate concentration, in profession or not.

To stop from mentally throwing daggers on the client’s way, you grab a random fashion magazine from the side table and flip through pages, though other four senses are inclined on your man. With a close attention to his low sigh you conclude that he is done.

The customer with now a fresh tattoo on her arm is discussing random useless topics to get him to talk, a very vain job realizing how Jungkook doesn’t bat a friendly lash at anybody, especially to those who hit on him. To be honest a large part of the ink business was linked with the obsession to attractive people who worked here, even if it meant trading an area of your skin. You grip the edges of the magazine a bit hard, not able to contain the sanity particularly at the high pitch voice she mumbles in before finally leaving his cabin.

A little excited and a lot nervous, you stand up as Jungkook bids goodbye to the third person.

He is quick to notice your discomfort, though not sure if it was the woman or the thought of finally getting the tattoo, he knew you were nervous and surviving in several cups of espresso by the dark circles slowly showing through the faded layers of your concealer. But nothing pulls down the opinion he has about you, beautiful and simple, no dramatics attached.

“Hey are you okay?”

You nod as soon as you sit down on the black tattoo chair, shifting a little to find a comfortable position. He is taking out a box full of equipment and fine needles, already making you break a sweat at the side of your forehead.

But more than that, it’s the way he is sharp and professional that catches your attention more.

You have never seen Jungkook this serious before. The choice of his vetiver perfume digging through your nostrils was driving you insane. If he doesn’t smile soon, you are going to melt into a puddle at his gaze.

“Are you nervous?”, he smirks this time, a newfound reason for your worsening gut health.

It’s mostly going in cycles at this point. Every bit of his skilled motion causes a vigorous hormonal reaction which initiates his next set of effortless teasing.

“I’m a little nervous”, you say, fiddling with your freshly painted nude nails.

“Me too”

It’s something you least expect to come out of his mouth observing how confident he looks right now. He basically has you cornered with his gaze. But whenever he had been truthful about his emotions it felt like a hug.

“I can take off my shirt too, so that we are even. Is that okay?”

He said it so softly like he is handling a child and the duality of the situation had your mind fogged and limbs frozen for a few minutes.

“Yeah it’s okay” It’s far beyond than okay. It’s great actually.

Jeon Jungkook is ripped, a Greek God sculptured masterpiece covered in self designed artwork you are more than happy to wake up to every morning. He hears you gulp at the feast before your eyes while he discards his black t-shirt to a nearby chair.

Now you don’t know if this whole thing is supposed to warm your heart or make you play several erotic fantasies like a movie before your eyes.

Both of you share a small smile while his long fingers are tugging at the hem of your shirt and pulling it up over your head.

He almost wishes you don’t opt to wear a bra but he is met with lacy black, a-bit-over your-usual-budget fabric hugging the roundness of your breasts.

It seemed like you were way too competitive about today. Anything less than complete awe from Jungkook for you was straight disappointment, you don't want anything less.

Well it seems like it did from how blown his pupils were at this point. He peels his gaze off your chest with a sharp gulp to look at your eyes suddenly devoid of any fear and staring back at him with all ease. He is filled with an exapnse of warmth and he isn't sure why does spending just a little amount of time with you had such a grip on him. He can’t wait to propose the idea of getting a couple tattoo together soon and as far as you know how Jungkook is, he is very serious with his body art so apparently he does trust you a lot already.

“Where exactly are you trying to get it?”, his voice is a lot deeper suddenly as he waits for your fingers to guide to his canvas.

You softly trace the spot at the upper circumference of your right boob, “Here”.

You suck a breath through your nose as his own fingers are mimicking your gesture, lightly pulling down the lace to inspect the fitting of the design at hand.

These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder

Jungkook traces each word on your burning skin, now leaning dangerously close which was questioning your control to put your palms flat on his pecs. He doesn’t notice that though, his mind is busy creating his own fantasies about the women under him.

After two minutes and twenty four second long of inspection and mutual thirst, Jungkook is selecting a bunch of needles to set into the rotary machine. Five fine sharp like a painter's brush moves in and out at a set regularity as Jungkook tests it out.

The next of his actions had you flushed into a pool of crimson. He gently lifts up your resting torso with one hand while the other is unclasping the hook of your bra, making you half naked for the sake of the tattoo.

"I'm going to start", he says shyly.

You still have time to save yourself from the growing phobia for the object, but another unlogical part of your brain says it's a piece of cake considering you have a whole distracting full course meal in front of you.

It stings at first. Well, okay it hurts like hell but your face is devoid of any indication, except your right hand is gripping on the rim of the chair for dear life.

Jungkook on the other hand had never felt this much diversion of mind during his work. He knows that you are probably hurting very badly, especially for a first timer. He is biting into his lip ring, trying to get this over with for the well-being of your pain and his hormones.

After he had scribed one word into your dermis, you are no longer able to contain the ache so you give out a small squeak out of your glossed lips and the vibration of the machine at his hands stops as he looks at you.

"You want me to stop? ", he is relaxing his face as he cups yours with one hand. You don't want to answer that question, but the drumroll of the current situation is making your heart flutter and everything about the little burn on your chest is forgotten.

"No. It does hurt but I'll be fine I guess", you whisper. His breath is mixing with yours slowly as he is leaning more towards your face. If it isn't for a kiss then you are likely to be disappointed.

"It'll be over before you know it. I'll make it quick", and then he kisses you, a small act to get off the pressure of sexual tension between your bare upper bodies.

Before you think of any tongue in the act, he is breaking off the contact and returns to his position on your chest. He misses the pout that forms on your mouth but right now both of your heads are in cloud nine.

The pain starts again, only this time you are busy reliving how his lips felt in yours; soft, firm and controlled.

You gasp when you feel one of his hands cupping your right breast to further his design but it's lowkey an act empowered by lust which is straining behind the so called professional eyes.

You just sit there flustered out of your mind and then Jungkook is suddenly squeezing, full palm hiding your breasts like it's a protected treasure, but he isn't showing the slightest facial expression other than determined eyes and his lower lip caught between his teeth.

Fuck you can't take it anymore. Jungkook can feel your nipples harden against his hand and his brain isn't helping much to concentrate on the design. But by the grace of some positive karma left on his side, he makes it through the long text and when he is letting go of your chest and standing tall, your skin is popping out with redness on the places the text lays embedded.

He fishes out a mirror for you to look.

"It looks beautiful thank you Jungkook", you smile.

"Can I give you one more tattoo on your left one?", he asks while you are contemplating whether going through the pain is worth it, not to mention you really want to get back at a private space with Jungkook as soon as possible.

"It won't hurt I promise", and then he is kissing you a lot filthier than before; all tongue and teeth, while his hands are grazing on the skin of your waist, pressing a little firmer than before.

The coldness of his lip ring rivaled around your mouth, and you try sucking on it to which Jungkook responds with a growl and pushes his body adamantly against yours.

Skin to skin, you are lost in euphoria of everything happening and finally, you roam your eager hands around his body, to his pecs and the definition of abs.

As your fingers scraped against his scalp, Jungkook is biting eagerly down your jawline to your collarbone and continues his ministrations at a particular spot which is bringing out melodic moan variation from you.

He is going down your skin, licking on your left boob before he starts planting violet tattoos as he had promised. As if it couldn't get better, he is massaging the right breast, in a way to soothe pain.

He loses it when you stutter his name, but he is just a fucking tease when it comes to making love and doing anything in a public space is the last thing he wants to do. There isn't much room for all that he wants right now.

"Why did you choose this particular tattoo Y/n?", he rasps while he is planting small pecks on his artwork, and you reply when he is finally eye level with you

"I just felt like it's a good one", your breaths are uneven and mostly caught in your neck. He pecks your lips before speaking, "Those are lines from Romeo and Juliet".

He takes your hands to trace over a line of text among the many designs on his chest.

which, as they kiss, consume

"We pretty much have a couple tattoo now Y/n", his breath is matched with your pace and you are not very sure how to respond to this new knowledge.

"That's… hot"

You break into giggles along with him, he just can't stop dragging his lips around your skin, but he isn't able to word his feelings right now either.

"I have some aftercare healing ointment for the tattoo at my place, wanna come over?" Now that may be a little lame of an excuse to get his little friend out of his pants but you are too unfazed to analyse any of that.

His hands find place on your ass under the skirt as soon as the door to his apartment closes, and before you know it, you are in his bedroom, sitting on the soft mattress and tongue lost devouring each other.

While eagerly getting rid of every article of clothing, Jungkook notices that you don't have your bra on beneath the shirt, so it's probably back at the parlour, but none of you have the slightest care for it, might as well make an excuse with it later to fuck you in his cabin.

He is pushing you farther towards the headboard, him on top, grinding sensenslesy while your lips mould with his. Though he has his whole body pressed against you, you can't seem to feel his weight at the slightest, every one of his actions were just balanced and perfect.

As Jungkook goes down on you, his smile is evident against your skin, finally able to find out how every one of those scenarios in his head will come to look like. He lets out a satisfied hum being finally able to suck on your tits, your fingers finding place on his hair, twisting it out of stimulation.

His pelvis is flushed harshly against yours, grinding and rubbing against your pussy for as long as he is rejoicing the feeling of moving his tongue around both the nipples.

He stops rubbing after some point and you whimper at the loss but his fingers are soon to meet your core as a quick apology. All your later moans are muffled on his mouth once again.

Feeling the controlled movements of his fingers on your clit, you dig your nails down on his toned shoulders. It's becoming impossible to reciprocate his lewd movements of tongue on your lips at this point as the excitement between your thighs is growing every passing second.

Your mouth remains slightly parted as he removes his face to watch you squirm underneath, lips swollen, deep red and glossy from all the saliva.

He pecks at the shell of your ear before going down past your navel.

You haven't had much heads in the twenty years of your life, most of the guys being completely against the idea which made you feel insecure to bring up the topic in bed, but Jungkook does it like his life depends on it.

He growls at the sight of you dripping into his sheets and he seems to enjoy the idea of being the influence behind it. But none is going through your head at the moment, not the metal on his lips grazing against your folds, or the fact that Jungkook is grinning each time you cry his name, it feels unreal to feel something like this.

His mouth is wrapping against your entrance and he is balancing your lower body on his palms to help him reach the right depths inside you. While all you can muster up is the strength to grope the bedsheets in your fist and close your eyes at the pleasure.

Jungkook brings his head higher to give some attention to the throbbing clit, catching it between his teeth and triggering the bundle of nerves just the perfect dose to have your hips jolting up to his face.

He can't take it himself when you are now whining and chasing for your release, so he is slightly humping against the bed to get some friction.

He licks a slow stripe up till your abdomen and slowly raises to your face, already fucked out and dishevelled to keep up with his dominant orbs.

He swears he had never felt so much warmth and care for sex with any of his previous partners, in relationship or not, all he could think is how good can he treat the pleading eyes underneath him.

"Is there something you like that you want me to do?", he says, fingers grazing once again to your crotch to not deny you from his contact. Only this time he is exploring the tightness of your pretty cunt with two skillful fingers.

Is there? You are not sure. Or in other words you are too caught up at the sense of him fingering you. It's not like you had enough experience or people who cared enough to ask that question. It astounds you that never in this entire foreplay he asked for any favor for himself.

"I'm not sure…", you whisper and then maybe you have something on your mind " um I guess I would like to be choked" Okay this felt embarrassing.

He smiles before sliding his free hand from your lips to your neck, and applies slight force, careful to not hurt you in the slightest bit.

"Is that fine?"

"Yeah", you muffle through the decreasing course of air.

He pulls up your face by the throat to attach lips once more. He just can't seem to get enough of kissing you senseless. Then, the tip of his long ignored cock is teasing the length of your pussy twice before it's stretching you out to the brim.

Bodies flushed and hot, his pace is deep and slow, making sure to kiss the cervix every time he is inside.

He watches as your eyes close shut and flutters around whenever he is grazing against your sweet spot. Both of your ears lost and eager for the moans looming out of each other, his more like what he sounds at the gym. Nice observation Y/n.

In this span of sexual energy you shared, you can make some obvious conclusions. Sex with him was surreal, both in terms of domination and the care he had. Rocking against him and keeping up with his hips was attainable— Compared to the intense eye contact he tries to hold, or the way he cups the side of your face and rubs the pad of his thumb on your cheeks while he kisses you during sinking back in, or the way his eyes glow at the beauty of your body open for him. It makes you feel special and it's difficult to respond to these gestures when you never felt this way before.

Jungkook could tell that from your face, but he hopes he lasts with you enough to help you know the worth you hold. You couldn't think too much about anything when you are busy squeezing around his length and coming twice in the first ten minutes.

By the third orgasm Jungkook is nearing his own and he pulls out to pump a few times before coming on your stomach.

"Was it okay?", his voice is all over the place, still balancing his body on his arms while you are amazed by his strength.

"It was amazing Jungkook", you smile. You have known a lot about Jungkook over the few dates you spent with him. That he likes literature, classics and philosophy, designs tattoos as a subconscious thing, that his game is A-1, and he likes working out almost three hours a day. Good for you. But it wasn't until now you know him to be gentle, like he is afraid to crush you under a feather touch. You don't know him as someone who is staring deep into your face after a good fuck, speaks nothing, smiles widely, and plants a peck on your forehead before getting off the bed.

He does the honors of cleaning both of your bodies with a towel, it's not like you have any strength left in you anyway. And then pulls out an ointment from the bedside table and plops next to your body.

"There. You need this to protect the tattoo", he takes off the nozzle and applies a required amount against the words on your chest and massages against them.

"Now go to sleep Juliet", he mocks, pulling up the sheets over you both "good night".

You snuggle against his hard chest, kissing his pecs before resting on it, "Good night Romeo".

thank you so much for reading!! please leave a feedback!!

★ taglist: @pjmochii (dm, ask or comment to enter the tl!)

★ credits: @/rainbeary on spotify : songs that'll make you feel everything's in slow motion playlist

★ banner & boards: by me :)

a/n: this is my first time writing smut and i basically died of second hand embarrassment during the process. pardon for my untalented ass, i tried this wip continuously for a week and i seriously don't think it could get anything better though it's probably not much.

© banqdanfnfic 2021, all rights reserved. do not modify, translate, or repost my works. modification, translations, and/or redistribution of my works on any platform is strictly prohibited.

[multifandomimagines]

Obvious - A Kai Parker Imagine

Characters: Kai Parker x Reader

Word Count: 2285

Summary: Kai and the reader go to a party at the Salvatore house, but they can’t keep their hands off each other.

Warnings: Alcohol, suggestive comments, making out

Written by: Josie

A/N: First imagine! Really hope you guys like it, we’ll be posting more like this soon so be sure to check out our page to help us get going! x

Disclaimer: Gif isn’t ours - credit to who it belongs to.

Kai and Y/N didn’t have what was known as a typically conventional relationship. A witch with unlimited power and a somewhat insane siphon, both with a thirst for chaos and excitement? I mean, causing mayhem together isn’t usually on most people’s date night ideas list.

The Salvatore house was once again home to a massive Friday night party, courtesy of Caroline Forbes’ charm over Stefan, who reluctantly agreed to let her use their house as the venue. Only one of the couple was technically invited, as Y/N was best friends with the hostess. The others weren’t exactly thrilled at Kai appearing by her side with a wide grin when they arrived, but they wouldn’t object. For now at least. Not when he brought enough snacks and drinks for at least ten people.

A few drinks later, and the two witches were almost ready to let loose on the unsuspecting partygoers. What they were planning wasn’t quite as extreme as Kai would have wanted, but Y/N was able to convince him of something both fun, and that wouldn’t kill her friends or land them in a magical coma of sorts.

“Come on,” Y/N giggled as she dragged her boyfriend by the hand away from the snack table and toward the middle of the room. Kai eyed the food with longing as he was taken away from it like he was being torn from his soulmate. He kind of was, really. “Dance with me.”

Turning back to his girl, he raised an eyebrow at her flushed expression. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Only enough to give me confidence,” She turned to face him when she reached her destination in the middle of the crowd, having forced herself and Kai through various sweaty bodies. Kai got smacked in the face by a dancing drunk blonde on the way, but Y/N’s grip on his hand was too strong to give him the chance to get angry at her.

Kai smiled and pulled her close as she wrapped her arms round his neck, beaming up at him. “I thought you wanted to cause some trouble?” He smirked, leaning close as he spoke. Y/N was already a little tipsy, but having him this close made her feel completely intoxicated. He was stronger than any alcohol she could drink, and she never got hungover after a hit of him, she only wanted more.

“I do, but can’t we just act like normal people at a party for a bit? And besides, I like this song!” She swayed with him as the bass boomed through the speakers, making it all the more intense.

“You know I’m not all that much of a dancer.” Kai chuckled at her moves; she was so carefree once she let herself go and her smile was enough to pull at the corner of his lips.

“You liar,” She hit lightly at his chest and looked up at him with a challenging fire in her eyes. “You dance all the time at home.”

“Okay yeah, but that’s not in front of everyone else,” His eyes drifted behind her as she cocked her head in confusion. “And your friends are watching us.”

Y/N turned her head to the side, still latched onto her boyfriend, and caught Damon and Elena keeping a watchful (and definitely judging) eye on the couple. Rolling her eyes, she turned back to Kai. “Let them,” She spoke, reeling him in with her gaze. He was basically putty in her hand. “Just pretend we’re back at home, dancing in the living room, just like we do at the weekends.”

A smile crept its way back onto Kai’s lips as the memory flashed against his mind. Saturday nights were traditionally romantic - they’d cook dinner together, cuddle on the sofa and watch tv, then afterwards he’d always somehow end up twirling her around the room with the lights dimmed until they couldn’t dance anymore, and he’d carry her upstairs to bed.

“Unless,” Her voice by his ear pulled him out of his reverie, looking forward to tomorrow’s date night and thinking about how well he was going to treat her. “You fancied going somewhere else?”

The hair on the back of his neck pricked up at her words, eyes snapping to hers, pupils dilated. His signature smirk appeared, quickly melting her down. “You know me so well.”

Grabbing her wrist, their roles were reversed as he dragged her out of the crowd this time, eyes darting quickly as they searched for somewhere to hide.

“Here,” Y/N said, pointing to a small storage cupboard. “No one ever comes in here.”

“Well then,” Kai said, pushing her inside and closing the door behind them. “You’ll be the first.”

In a flash, she was slammed against the door as Kai’s lips moulded with hers in desperation. He had needed this all night. He might be an expert at hiding it, since emotions had never really bothered him before, but the critical gazes of her friends made him uncomfortable. They made him start questioning every move he made, just because he wanted Y/N’s friends to approve of him and be happy that she’s with him. Kai Parker would never let stupid emotions get to him. Not like love. At least, not until her.

She sighed into his mouth as he took her breath away, her hands gripping his hair tightly while his held her waist firmly in place. His fingers slowly trailed up her shirt, brushing the skin underneath, making her shiver. Breathing heavily, her hands found their way to his chest as he pulled away from the kiss and moved his lips to her neck.

“Eager, are we?” She giggled, her voice thin from the exhilaration. She felt Kai chuckle in response against her skin, sending a tingling sensation through her veins.

“Impatient, actually. I want you now.” Kai trailed his lips down to her collarbone, and back up to her jawline.

Y/N was finding it harder and harder to think straight as Kai pulled away, his fingers tracing the faint marks he’d left on her neck. I’ll definitely have to add to these later, he thought. “What about the plan? Still want to cause a little chaos?”

Kai’s hand that was on her neck moved behind and into her hair, her head automatically tilting up to make capturing his lips easier. “To hell with the plan.”

Leaning in for another heated kiss, their lips had barely met when the door of the storage cupboard swung open and the two of them fell to the ground with a good thump, Y/N groaning as Kai’s whole body weight crushed her.

“Seriously?” Caroline stood over the couple with her hands on her hips, looking mostly irritated yet somewhat amused. The twinkle behind her eye when she looked at Y/N gave that away - she was always the most supportive of her dating Kai.

The female witch glanced sheepishly up at her friend, lightly shoving Kai to the side. The siphon didn’t even want to make eye contact with the blonde vampire. He was yet to familiarise himself with how to deal with awkward.

“Y/N, I thought I said making out in dingy cupboards was off-limits! Raise your standards,” Caroline eyed her friend, the ghost of a smirk lingering on her lips. After looking briefly at Kai’s embarrassed expression, she leaned in closer to Y/N and whispered, “If you guys want to have some fun then just leave. The party’s starting to clear out now anyway, and it’ll be a lot more fun than in a dusty old closet.”

She winked at her and strutted back into the crowd, not before giving Kai a light pat on the shoulder on her way past. She was right, the crowd was slightly smaller than before.

“God,” Kai sighed. “That was awful. I don’t like awkward, it’s my least favourite emotion so far.”

Y/N laughed at her boyfriend; he still discovers himself experiencing new emotions all the time, and she finds it oh so endearing to see how he reacts to the foreign feeling. “Well if anyone was to catch us, I’m glad it was Caroline.”

The tall boy looked at the girl he thought was an angel, although she didn’t quite see herself that way. Sometimes that made him sad, another feeling he didn’t particularly enjoy. “Let’s just get out of here,” He said, taking her hand and intertwining their fingers, something she always loved. “Bring the party back home, just you and me. We can pick up where we left off and no one will even notice we’re gone.”

Y/N grinned, happy that they were always on the same page. She took a step forward, watching as Kai’s eyes lit up more and more the closer she got to him. Their sparkle seemed to be directly proportional to his distance from her. “You just read my mind.”

It wasn’t long until Kai was driving his silver car back to their shared apartment, one hand on her thigh as it always was. She was his comfort blanket no matter what, and physical touch was Kai’s love language, so even when driving he craved some contact with her to keep himself sane.

Mostly sane anyway.

Eventually, they returned to the warmth of their apartment and wasted no time in latching onto each other. See, that was the thing about Y/N and Kai. She might be his comfort blanket, but he was hers too. When they’re apart it feels like two separate parts of a magnet, aching to be able to touch, see, feel the other, so when that ache is satisfied, it’s like a force unlike any other, and pulling them apart proves difficult as neither of them wants to ever be away from the other.

Their love for each other was obvious, you’d have to be blind not to see it. The only reason Y/N’s friends tolerated Kai was because they couldn’t deny the clear adoration and care he had for her. They’d tell her Y/N, he can’t be trusted, he doesn’t feel, he can’t feel love, but when you witness a love like they have, how could you ignore it? They’d almost come to a silent truce: Kai stays out of trouble and never hurts Y/N, and they’d leave him be. It worked for them.

What they had said about him not feeling love was true though, before. Kai thought that love was a wasted feeling - relationships crash and burn everyday, he’d said once, so why would he let it waste his time if he can’t one hundred percent confirm that it would be for life? Y/N came into his life like a wildfire spreading through dry forest, this new and unusual feeling coursing through him at an alarming pace, and it made him want to scream. He couldn’t understand why he was unable to shake this one girl out of his head, it was distracting him and he couldn’t concentrate, it was a nuisance.

But as time went on and he started wanting to make sure she was safe and happy, it became less and less of a burden to him. In fact, he started to revel in it. Any excuse he could find to see her, he’d take it. Any chance to protect her, he’d be there in an instant. He actually started to care, which baffled him at first because Kai Parker doesn’t care. But as he looked at her then, wind blowing her hair around her face, he didn’t mind it. Maybe caring wasn’t so bad, if it was this one girl he cared about. He decided then that he would dedicate all his emotion to her, all his care, all his time, all his love.

Love. When Kai realised he was in love, he wasn’t sure if he was awake or dreaming. Love was pointless, he told himself so. But he couldn’t bring himself to lie to himself any longer. It may have been pointless to him back then, but not now. Now, his whole reason for living was to make this one girl happy, this one girl who had managed to change a man so set in his old toxic ways. He loved her.

Y/N wasn’t sure if she’d ever definitely know that she was in love. I mean, how can you really know? Everyone’s experiences with love are different, and all relationships vary, so there’s not one set formula for it. Love is complex, and that was scary to her, because she didn’t want to let someone in thinking they’re her soulmate, and they end up breaking her heart. She’d made that mistake before, and she didn’t want to let the wrong person get to her again. But with Kai, there wasn’t a single question or doubt in her mind. This, this was what love was supposed to feel like. All that fear of allowing the wrong person into her heart had vanished in an instant, because she knew there would be no one else ever again now that she had Kai. He had taken up residence in her mind and there was no space for anyone else. He was her person, she knew, it was obvious. She loved him.

Back in the apartment with the two of them getting lost in each other, those intense feelings resurfaced. In that moment, it was just the two of them: no problems, no death, no prison worlds. Only the crystal clear love they had for each other that everyone could see. It even got them a bit of a reputation in the local supernatural community as the couple that defeated all odds.

The sociopath who learned to fall in love, and the witch that taught him how.

[mrsbrookegillespie]

-Chapter One- Teacher!Charlie Gillespie x Single!Mom!Reader

(Not My Gif)

This Story Was INSPIRED By @boyfriendskywalker Who Deactivated Their Account While Writing The Charlie Gillespie Kindergarten Teacher Story. I Have Taken It Upon Myself To Write My Own Version With Some Of The Storyline They Used. So, ALL Credit For Part Of The Storyline Goes To Them. This Will Be A Series, And I Will Finish It.

Description: Just Read It While I Try To Come Up With One--GOT IT! Okay, so Y/N L/N is a single mother of her daughter Y/D/N. Having it been four years since the father walked away. Y/N taught herself to never trust a man, but when Y/D/N’s teacher uses his charm to worm his way into her life, will she finally be able to open herself up to love again?

Warnings: Language, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of mental abuse, and as the story goes on I’ll think of more. But, be prepared for some angst.

-Chapter One-

“One, two, three, four--”

“Mama?” Y/N looks down at the doe-eyed 5 year old. “Why are you counting?” 

With a head shake, she presses her fingers onto her temples, gently massaging them. “Mama’s just tired, baby,” she explains, calmly. “And has a migraine.” Now flashing her daughter, Y/D/N, a fake smile, she starts the car. “Are you ready for school? Not gonna cause trouble again… Are you?” 

“I don’t cause trouble!” Y/D/N argues, lightly kicking the back of the passenger seat. “My classmates also cause trouble, I just resolve it differently than others.” She crosses her arms with a huff.

Y/N furrows her eyebrows at her daughter's words. “Are you sure you’re five?” 

“I like to say I’m six,” she says, casually.

The seriousness of the young girl’s demeanor was enough to make Y/N fall into a fit of laughter. “Well alrighty then. Six it is.” She pulls into a parking space. “We are here,” she announces, unbuckling her seat belt.

“Finally!” Y/D/N wrestles to get out of her car seat. “Could you help me out?” 

Y/N gets out of the car, rushing to grab her majesty from the backseat. “Do you have everything?” she asks, setting Y/D/N down on the pavement. 

Y/D/N shrugs, but resorts to saying, “Yes.” 

“Good.” Y/N takes Y/D/N’s hand, guiding her into the colorful building they both grew to love and hate. 

“Ms. L/N,” a female teacher says, only giving a stiff nod towards the women.

“Mrs. Winchester,” she replies mimicking the gesture. Both her and Y/D/N shiver when she passes by. “She scares me.”

Y/D/N nods dramatically, agreeing. “I think she’s a ghost,” she stage-whispers.

“Definitely.” Though Y/N’s tone might’ve been teasing, she wouldn’t be surprised if she actually was. 

“Hello Y/D/N!” Another young female teacher waves before meeting Y/N’s eyes. “Ugh…” She continues to walk without giving Y/N a proper greeting.

“Good morning to you too,” she mumbles under her breath. 

Only a couple more awkward encounters were experienced until she heard the loud shrill of-- “Mr. Gillespie!” Y/D/N lets go of Y/N’s hand, sprinting towards the man that she called her teacher.

“Good morning Miss Y/D/N!” he greets verbally, along with a big hug. “And look who’s with you.” He moves from his crouched position to stand as tall as he could next to Y/N. “Good morning, Y/N.” 

“Good morning, Mr. Gillespie,” she responds. “Nice to feel welcomed.” Her tone turned a little colder than what it was. “I swear it was either just someone saying my name, or a judgement glare.” 

“You’ll warm up to them,” he assures. 

“Like I warmed up to you?” she questions. “Don’t put me under the impression that you actually like me, please, it’ll just blow my ego right out of proportion.” She uses her hands to demonstrate.

He doesn’t respond, only showing her a bright smile.

The bell rings, signaling both of them to go their separate directions. “Mr. Gillespie the bell rang,” a student calls out. 

Y/N snaps out of her little daze. “And I guess Y/D/N already went to her seat. See? I knew she wasn’t that much of a troublemaker, but you know--” she cuts herself off seeing his amused expression. “You have to teach,” she blurts. “Right! Sorry, I’ll let you get to that. Bye Y/D/N!” she shouts into the filled room, Y/D/N’s face going into a look of horror. “Love you, stay safe and…” She salutes Charlie. “Good luck.” With a turn on her heel she goes to leave the building, mentally face palming herself on the way.

When in the safe space of her car, she allows her head to fall forward, which only led to her accidentally setting the horn off. It wasn’t like she’s not used to people. With being a hostess at a restaurant, all she did was talk, see, and meet a variety of different personalities and personas. But, after having to raise a daughter on her own you can say her cool way of talking, and the ability to form well rounded sentences went downhill. Baby talk does that.

“So, what you’re trying to tell me is that you like your daughter’s hot teacher?” her friend, Madison, asks. Madison was a little bit younger than Y/N was, Madison being seventeen and Y/N being twenty-four, she couldn’t help but bond with the girl. 

“That’s not what I said,” Y/N remarks, wiping down a table. 

“Then why are you blushing?”

“Because you’re embarrassing me!” Y/N whines.

“And I’m the teenager,” Madison snickers.

Y/N blows some of her hair out of her face. “I won’t deny that he’s… Decent looking, but the problem is in the question. ‘Daughter’s teacher’,” she repeats the words Madison said earlier. 

“You told me that Y/D/N can’t get enough of what you only call ‘Mr. Gillespie’, I don’t even know his first name.” She scrunches up the right side of her face. 

“Because it’s informal.” 

“He calls you by your first name,” Madison replies back, bluntly. “But, back to the point. If Y/D/N really likes him then what’s the problem?” 

Y/N stops her movements, giving Madison a blank stare. She opens her mouth to answer, but closes it. “I just can’t, okay? Can we please drop it?” 

Madison’s eyes soften when seeing Y/N’s pleading ones. “Yeah, sure.” She leans against one of the tables. 

“Hello!” someone calls out from a few feet away. “We’ve been standing here for like ten minutes, can we be seated?” The annoyance on the man's face was evident.

Y/N sends Madison a cheeky smirk. “You’re on, Mads.” 

She stomps her foot, discreetly, going to the group of people who are most likely ‘hangry’. Y/N glances at her watch, seeing how it was about time she headed out for her break and got Y/D/N from school, only to have the last minute babysitter she found that morning watch her for the rest of the day, so Y/N can finish her shift. It wasn’t the most ideal schedule, but it worked. It paid the bills, it put food on the table--could it be the reason Y/D/N throws fits, and tantrums in classrooms, and seeks attention? Maybe.

“We need to set up a meeting.” 

Y/N gapes at Mr. Gillespie who for the first time she’s seen with a stern look on his face. “Wh-why?” she stutters.

“I know you aren’t blind to see that Y/D/N is…” His voice fades off. “The Principal wants to set up a conference with you, me, Y/D/N, and the counselor after school one of these days.”

Y/N’s frown gets wider, glancing over towards Y/D/N in the seat next to her. The girl only kept her eyes glued to her shoes. “The only days I’m off of work are Saturdays, Sunday’ and Wednesdays.” She pulls out her phone, scrolling through the calendar. “Yeah, only those days, I don’t know if any of those days would work but…” 

“You work all those other days?” He raises an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah,” she answers, not thinking too much about it. She gasps loudly, when it hits her. “Work!” She looks at her watch. “I’m gonna be late going back.” She stands up. “I’ll send you an email tonight on what time works best for me, and then you as a faculty can talk amongst yourselves if it works for you. I’m gonna take my kid now, and go, so I don’t have to keep being stared at with that look you and all the other teachers give me.” She takes Y/D/N’s hand, the slight pull of it noticeable enough to have Y/N make a mental note.. “Have a nice rest of your day, Mr. Gillespie.

“Bye, bye,” Y/D/N finally whispers towards him. With a weak wave they both leave the room, once out of sight running for the door. “Why were we running?” she asks, when Y/N starts to speed to their house.

“Because Mama’s gonna be late to work, and is now stressed because we have to talk to adults who don’t like her very much,” she pauses. “You and I need to have a very, very, serious conversation when I get back home on where your behavior is coming from.” 

“But, I don’t wanna,” Y/D/N cries.

“I know you don’t want to, I don’t want to, but it’s one of the cons of being a parent, I have to be strict at times when you don’t follow the rules.”

“But--” 

“Don’t make me yell at you,” Y/N warns. “You and I both hate yelling when you’re in trouble, so I think we’d both appreciate it if you promise to be good until I’m back, no arguing.” 

Y/D/N slowly feels the tears come to her eyes. “Mr. Gillespie never yells at me.”

The name made Y/N freeze a little. Was he a part of the reason? 

Taglist

@yagorlemmalyn @justxfolio @charliegillespiewife