#and lining takes so much personality out of the sketches i think

[peachypinkygloss]

dior girl ✰ park jimin

Park Jimin is one of a kind. When he wants something, he gets it, no matter how hard it can be. He's not scared to get his hands dirty. If he had any morals, maybe he'd consider his obsession with you getting out of hands. But this man has absolutely no morals.

୨୧ pairing: designer!jimin x model/fem!reader

୨୧ genre: strangers to lovers, age gap (21 & 38), smut, slight angst

୨୧ word count: 8.1k

୨୧ warnings: unrealistic depiction of the fashion industry, alcohol consumption & mention of drugs use, manipulation & corruption, jimin isn't a good person (especially not to oc lol <3), violent sexual thoughts, jimin's a sadist (my fav headcannon :D), heavy dom/sub dynamics, hard dom!jimin, unprotected vaginal & anal sex, anal play (use of a buttplug), my new headcannon: jimin likes giving anal, dacryphilia, praising & degradation, oral sex (m), face fucking, aftercare ig because yes jimin's a sadist but he still has a heart.

a.n.: yup so idk if you guys were expecting that... but i did say none of the characters were ethical lmfao so 🤷🏻‍♀️ i really, really hope you like the first part, i've worked hard on it even though it's not super long. so please, reblog and tell me what you thought about it! <3 as always, don't like, don't read.

[dior girl moodboard] ["older" masterlist]

His studio is his sanctuary. It's the only place in the world he can spend hours in without even noticing the moon setting or the sun rising. In his studio it feels like the time doesn't exist or that it's just a futile detail that doesn't have much importance.

When he's creating a piece, nothing around him matters. The only things he's willing to give attention to are the placements of the needles on the fabric, the little lines that form the pattern of the clothing, and the way his scissors cut through the satin material of the dress he's designing.

He's thought about this design for so long and he finally got the opportunity to make it. He's thought about the colours of the dress and also of the seam, about the length of the hem and the sleeves, how deep the neckline should be and if lace would be suitable.

He doesn't even recall how many sketches he's made of the dress. At some point it was consuming his entire mind, this dress the only design he could draw and think of.

Now that he's finally creating it, he has the feeling that it's going to be the best piece he's ever made. He already sees everyone talking about it, saying how much of a genius Park Jimin is. It's going to be the design of the year — of the century.

He still misses something, though, and it might be the most important part of the design. He needs a model, the perfect body to wear his piece and present it to the fashion world.

It can't be anybody, it must be someone who's confident, who always has their head up and who radiates elegance and sports a unique beauty.

Jimin still hasn't found this person. He constantly searches for them, but never finds them or when he thinks that he has, he discovers flaws he cannot unseen.

All the Dior models are great, but not enough. They don't spark anything in Jimin when he watches them strode down the catwalk. He's checked upon the apprentices and the newer models the company has hired, but he saw no one extraordinary.

Until today.

He hears steps against the wooden floor of his studio, entering the place without knocking. "Ah, there he is!" A manly voice exclaims, Jimin immediately recognizes it as his friend's, Sungwoon. "I have someone to introduce you."

Jimin raises his gaze up from his working table and looks at Sungwoon who's accompanied by a beautiful, young woman. He's then suddenly interested, contrary to usual where he doesn't really care about the many girls Sungwoon brings, claiming each one as the new phenomenon of the fashion industry.

When Jimin turns around, he eyes you up and down, barely glimpsing in Sungwoon's way. It's all it takes, one simple glance and he knows you're the one he needs — the one he wants and has to ruin.

Sungwoon introduces you both and when your name is pronounced by the man, sounding so charming and delicate, he's certain you're the model he had been waiting for since a long time.

You seem shy, arms locked behind your back, but you stand up straight and have a polite smile drawn on your face.

"I thought maybe you'd like to get to know each other, right?" Sungwoon raises his eyebrows in Jimin's direction. "Everyone's fond of her," he smiles and pats your back, encouraging you to speak up.

"Thanks," you smile back at Sungwoon before glancing back at Jimin who still hasn't looked away from you. "I've been a big fan of your work since I was a little kid, Mr. Park. You've inspired me to become a model."

The way you say his name has his cock twitching in his pants, filthy thoughts of him spanking your butt while you cry his name invading his mind.

He can sense your vulnerability, your willingness to submit. Who would he be to deny you that? Him, who is so eager to dominate the ones he's attracted to, to break but also repair them.

He knows it when someone's fragile, hiding their weaknesses under fake confidence. He doesn't know you, but he recognizes the pattern almost instantly. What can be broken can also be repaired and you're asking him to break you.

"I'm glad to hear that," Jimin says politely, a slight smile tugging on his lips. He's not the type to smile — stretch the corner of his mouth upward to imitate the person in front of him, he finds it useless. But for you, he'll do it, just so you trust him because you're so desperate to give yourself to the opposite sex.

"Park, you were wondering who'd be part of the fall show this year," Sungwoon begins, looking at you like you're the most irradiant ruby in the world. "Well, you have her in front of you." You giggle softly at the man's words, nodding your head at him and then looking at Jimin as if waiting for some praises.

Jimin faintly smiles, seeing your eyes glimmering and he curses himself for not finding you first. You'd have been his by now, his to praise, to kiss, to fuck, to destroy. But he swears, if he happens to break you, he'll gratefully keep you safe close to him.

๑♡՞

T H E N

"Careful," Jimin softly says as he catches you up from falling on the floor. You let out a high pitched laugh, as if all of this is a big joke, and push him back with a hand on his chest.

"I'm fine," you answer, shrugging him off with a flip of your hand. You stagger from left to right, leaning against the wall when you almost fall a second time. You laugh it off again, halting your steps.

Jimin looks at you with a cringe expression, eyeing the people behind, sporting worried looks on their faces.

You all went out after the show; models, designers, directors, stylists... everyone. It wasn't your plan to get drunk, Jimin knows that because you're not supposed to drink alcohol since you're on a very strict diet. A glass from time to time isn't so bad, but your consumption clearly surpassed just one glass tonight.

It's not really your fault, though. Technically yes, since you're the one who swallowed all of the glasses of wine, but you had a little help.

A little help from Jimin himself.

When you weren't looking, he poured more alcohol in your glass and to his satisfaction you've noticed nothing and gulped everything. Sure, you got a bit suspicious, wondering how you had only drank so little when you remembered swallowing more than that.

But Jimin assured you it was only your first glass, so you drank, and drank, and drank... Until you were more than tipsy.

You've received nasty looks from your colleagues, especially the other models who weren't drinking a single drop of wine, and yet, still weren't awarded with the status of the 'face of Dior'. How ironic that the drunkest girl in the room was the face of Dior and the little protégée of Mr. Park.

Years and years of training, countless sleepless nights, meals that are as nutritious as birds seed... All of the efforts in the world to have your biggest dream stolen by a model who is in the industry for less than six months.

Their rage is understandable, but Jimin couldn't care less. In fact, everything is going as planned and he can't fuck things up now. No, because if he does, all of the things he has done until now will be completely irrelevant.

"I'll... I'll bring her to our room, you can go out without us," Jimin announces, watching you sit down on the floor in the middle of the corridor.

"Will she be okay?" A stylist asks.

"Of course. I'll take care of her."

He waits for everyone to be gone before he gets you up from the floor and leads you both to your hotel room. When you're in the room, he sits you down on the bed.

You don't say anything as he takes off his jacket and loosens his tie. He crouches down in front of you to remove your heels and he does the same with his shoes, leaving them at the entry.

When he comes back, he sees you quietly crying, the features of your face contorting into a sad expression. You've slightly sobered up, harshly coming back to reality, realizing how much you've embarrassed yourself tonight.

"What did I do?" You ask, looking up at him with teary eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

Jimin sits down beside you, lifting your head up with his index under your chin and his thumb over it. "There's nothing that can't be repaired," he states in a soft voice, so low it sounds like a sweet whisper — a secret, a confession only you can hear. "Right?"

You sniff, wiping your tears away. You nod your head in agreement, slightly reassured, hoping Jimin will fix your mistakes. Your foolish mistakes, done by the carefree of a twenty-one year old.

"Shh, baby, shh," he softly murmurs, cradling your head in his hands and gently laying your face against his chest. You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tighter and tighter til suffocation.

He strokes your hair delicately, placing a sweet and warm kiss on the top of your head.

Someone as vulnerable as you contains a lot of emotions. He has to deal with them, which doesn't bother him at all. He wants you the way you are; sad and pitiful.

"Everything's going to be fine," he promises, but it's not entirely the truth. Not everything will be fine, though it'll be in the end, he thinks — he hopes.

You eventually pull away from his embrace, just enough to look at him. It seems like you're searching for something or maybe waiting for something, your eyes desperately staring at Jimin as if his simple presence will make all of your problems fly away.

You throw yourself at him and kiss him on the lips, fingers pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck. He reciprocates it, knowing you like your kisses sloppy and messy, wanting Jimin everywhere on you to remind you that he's always there.

You bring him closer, crumpling the material of his white shirt between your fists, moaning and whining as your teeth clash together at how roughly you kiss each other.

Jimin breaks your exchange first, both catching your breaths. His eyes observe you quietly as you look at him like you're still waiting for something.

"Did you do what I told you to?" He questions you, referring to your conversation of a few days when you came to his studio to try on his dress.

You were a bit stressed out, putting on the clothing like you were scared you'd rip it. He still remembers the way the satin was sliding up your body, hugging your waist and ass perfectly. He was baffled at how incredibly well it suited you as if he had made it exactly for you.

And maybe it was made for you, after all.

Because when he saw his creation on you, he knew you had to wear it for the runway. It has to be you, he'll accept no one else.

Jimin will make you walk the runway wearing his dress — the last time you'll ever step on the catwalk. After that, he'll keep you away from the rest of the world. He'll refuse anyone to see you because you're going to be his.

His forever.

"Yes," you nod your head, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Tell me what you did," Jimin softly demands, holding your chin in his hand, mouths inches away from each other.

You're too shy to say it out loud and that's why he wants you to tell him. Also to be sure you did everything correctly, but mainly because he wants to see you embarrassed.

"I prepared myself for you..." You begin, holding eye contact even though you feel your face heating up just thinking about all the things you've done per his request. "I... I used lube both on me and... the toy," you continue in a shy tone, so low Jimin wouldn't hear you if he wasn't so close.

"Where on you, sweetheart?" He interrupts, wanting each detail, each little thing you normally wouldn't have done if it wasn't for him. And all while thinking of him.

You swallow, "On my ass, Jimin," you answer in a whisper. "I stretched it out for you, using the toy like you told me," you finally admit.

"Good girl," Jimin purrs. "Let me see it then."

You proceed to strip off of your dress, now used to be nude in front of him, and slide your panties down your thighs, discarding them away on the floor.

You get back up on the mattress and position yourself on all fours close to the edge of the bed. Jimin stands up and goes behind you to have a closer look at your ass.

His veiny hands pull your cheeks apart, revealing your rim to his insatiable, sadistic eyes. You glance over your shoulder, curious of what he has in mind and what he has prepared for you.

You softly gasp when he spits and lets the globe of spit drip down between your asscheeks, rolling over your puckered hole. You clench around nothing, relieved to have his attention, to finally feel his hands on you instead of the usual touch of yours.

He sees that your ass is a bit looser than the last time he saw it, but it still clearly needs more preparation to welcome his girthy cock — though it's not like he cares that much if you're prepped enough or not.

He passes his thumb over your tight muscle, circling it and smearing his saliva over it. He wants to fuck it so bad, destroy it and do unbelievably violent things to you. Should he tonight? Should he show you his dark and evil side?

He's choked you before — smacked your ass hard til you felt your skin stings, overstimulated you to the point your orgasms were just spasms passing through your body, fucked your throat while you were drooling all over yourself, and tied your legs and wrists together to restrict your movements.

So fucking your ass can't be that bad, but the thing is Jimin wants it to be bad. He then wonders what would happen if the line is ever crossed. Would you endure it, would you defend yourself? Would you shut the fuck up and take it like you're asked to?

But you trust him so much — with all your pathetic being — and he thinks you'd let him cross any lines he desires to. He probably already has crossed multiple lines, and being the poor, sad girl that you are, you said nothing.

You truly are extraordinary.

He gives a slight slap to one of your asscheeks, groping both of them after, feeling how soft and tender your flesh is. "You did good, sweetheart," he comments in a honeyed voice that has you mewling, sounding so smooth and sweet. "How about we play with it a little?"

He lifts up a brow at you and you nod sheepishly, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. "Yes..."

"Great," he says in a low tone, running his hands one last time over your ass before going to take something from his suitcase.

"What is it?" You question, your curious eyes landing on the small object he's holding.

Jimin brings the object to you, something made of metal, the end having the shape of a cone and a pink gem placed on the top. "A gift for my princess," he replies, opening the bottle of lube he brought as well.

He applies some lube around your tight hole and on the butt plug, and carefully pushes the head of the toy in your ass. You gasp softly, feeling it slowly stretch you out, sinking in gradually as Jimin holds your cheeks apart.

"Mmh, feels good, Sir," you moan, arching your back and pushing your butt closer to Jimin.

When the plug is all the way in, the pink gem peeking out between your two globes of flesh, he smacks your other cheek, making it jiggle from the harsh hit.

"Is that so, dirty girl?" He wonders, gripping your hips and colliding his hips with your butt, sensing his big bulge pulsing under his pants. "You like it when your little ass gets stretched out?"

"I like everything you do to me," you say with a content sigh, pussy clenching around nothing as your ass gets used to the small butt plug.

Jimin genuinely thinks he can't find better than you. You were so shy in the beginning, looking like a lost puppy wherever you went. You just needed someone bigger and older to show you the way — though you were too dumb, and still are, to realize he was leading you to the wrong path.

It's not like you seem to mind, anyway.

After all, you both got what you wanted; you, male attention, someone to rely on and be protected by, and him, a woman to break and keep with him forever.

He lets go of your hips to unbuckle his belt, pulling the leather material out of the gold loop with the luxury Dior logo on it. He lets the two ends of the belt hang off, not bothering to remove it completely, and tucks the fly of his pants down.

He finally frees his cock from the confines of his boxers, springing up and slapping against his stomach, the bit of pre-cum escaping from his tip dampening his shirt.

"You're so good to me, princess," he praises as he wraps a hand around the base of his engorged cock, aching and begging to be nestled in your cute little pussy.

His head pushes at your entrance, never fully entering, only teasing your hole and stimulating all of your sensitive nerves. He watches how his cock stretches your cunt, your walls expending to receive his bulbous tip and then closing down when he pulls out.

"Sir, please, want more," you beg him, pushing your ass on him to have his dick back in you. You let out a little whimper when Jimin holds your hips in place, stopping you from wiggling your butt side to side against his thick cock.

He hums and slaps your ass harshly, your skin stinging after. "Want my cock in your needy little pussy, baby? Is that what you're crying for?" He asks, teasing even more by swiping the head of his penis between your pussy lips, a string of your arousal sticking to his angry tip.

"Yes," you say back quickly and desperately, arching your back, literally presenting yourself to Jimin. "Been so good, don't I deserve it, Sir?" You softly murmur, still looking over your shoulder to see his gaze fixated on your quivering pussy, cock head sliding up and down over your sex.

"You do..." He responds distractedly, licking his plump lips, his fingers touching the pink gem peeking out from your ass. You're always so good and obedient for him, he even wonders if you ever did something that genuinely pissed him off before.

When he really sinks in, his head passing the barrier of your sweet pussy, he groans deeply, feeling your walls deliciously enveloping his hard cock tightly.

You moan in unison as he bottoms out in you, his balls touching your wet and warm pussy. He bends his back over yours, running his hand up your spine, feeling all the little bumps of it until he reaches your head and shoves it against the mattress.

You whine when he starts pounding into you, his girth stretching you out so well, leaving you panting and moaning loudly. His other hand holds your hip against his dick, fingers digging into your skin, leaving permanent marks on your body — as well as on your mind and your soul.

He already sets a hard and rapid pace — fucking is never soft or loving with Jimin, it's violent, long, and agonizing. It's a way to be himself, the real and dark version of himself he hides in public and releases when he gets intimate with you.

You surprisingly got accustomed to it, embracing it as if it was your destiny, the reason for your existence; to be his personal slut, the little toy he likes to play rough with. And you've accepted it, like you had no other choice but to be fucked into oblivion by Jimin whenever he feels like it.

"You like that, baby? Huh?" He growls, as if you're the disgusting one for liking the way he treats you, ravished and delighted to have his girthy cock sliding against your velvety walls. "You like it when I fuck you hard like this?" He repeats and grips your hair, pushing your head against the bed covers with more strength.

You babble out something, voice caught in your throat, too out of breath to formulate a simple sentence. You then only nod, your cheek squished against the mattress, Jimin's hand still pushing down on your head.

His mouth hangs open to let out heavy breaths and his eyes are focused on your face, watching the little translucent pearls fall on your face and on the covers. Your pussy swallows all of his girth, clenching so tightly it has him groaning and saying profanities under his breath.

It's sick how it makes his cock so fucking hard, leaking so much pre-cum in you and twitching avidly by seeing you struggle to breathe. You crumple the bed sheets between your little fists, doing everything in your power to keep your ass up for Jimin and not slump down on the bed from the hard thrusts he's inflicting on you.

He snaps his hips against your ass and the entirety of his length is covered in your wetness, a white ring made of your cream circling the base of his cock.

His hand holding your head descends to your neck, enclosing it with his fingers, the coldness of his silver rings contrasting with the hotness of your sweaty skin. He squeezes a little, just a bit so you know who's in control, so you never forget Jimin controls you — that he controls your life and thoughts.

With a grip on your hair, he brings your torso up, arched back against his chest. The material of his shirt sticks to your skin, coated in a thin layer of sweat. He continues to pound into you, his cock sliding in and out of your pussy rapidly, as he holds you by the throat, lewdly licking a long stripe along the side of your face.

You shudder in desire, hair standing up on your delicate arms. "You're my little whore, aren't you, baby?" His mouth is right beside your ear as he whispers dirty things to you, his lips touching your hair, damp at the nape of your neck. "So fucking compliant... You want to please me so bad like the slut that you are," he mouths the words against your hair, cock pulsing hard in your cunt.

His free hand that doesn't have a hold around your throat slides down your body, passing over your belly and reaching your puffy clit. The sharp zipper of his pants graces the flesh just under your ass, irritating your skin and making it itchy.

You clench around him when his digits find your sensitive bud, circling it sensually and slowly, the complete opposite of his hip thrusts.

"Yes, want to please you, Jimin," you gasp, bucking your hips at the feeling of his rough fingertips on your pussy. He grunts when you address him by his name, loving how it sounds on your tongue, so sweet and timid.

He remembers the first time you moaned his name; you were sprawled across his expensive leather couch, blindfolded and hands attached together with his black tie. Intense for your first time with him, but it was also the last time he's ever been that gentle with you.

It was when his cold fingertips graced the skin of your stomach that you let out a squeak followed by his name, said in the quietest moan. He had then stopped his movements and looked at your face, an expression of distress painted over your features.

He had realized how frail and weak you actually were, needing your most important sense to be at ease. That's why he had blindfolded you, to show you how dependent you are of him, how impossible it is for you to live without him to guide you.

He pushes your jaw to the side so your lips can meet his in a feverish kiss, wet tongues mingling together, drool dripping down from the corners of your mouth. He continues to ram his cock in your now soppy and messy pussy, the sound of skin against skin resonating in the hotel room.

He traps your bottom lip between his teeth, making you whimper and close your walls around his girth once again. Your little hands grip the material of his trousers, keeping him close and holding on to something because the hard cadence of his hip thrusts push you forward, breasts bouncing up on your chest.

"Fuck," he curses and he suddenly stops, steadying his hips against your butt. You let out a whiny moan as Jimin lets go of your face and hips.

You're sad to have your pleasure ripped away from you so hastily, but you don't have the time to complain, Jimin slipping out of your cunt and pushing you down violently on the mattress.

You turn around on your back to see him unbuttoning his dress shirt and throwing it on the floor, revealing to you his beautiful chest and defined abs. He gets rid of his pants and socks after, finally removing his boxers, the only things remaining on him being his rings and the watch crowning his right wrist.

His cock glistens in your juices, more pre-cum leaking from his swollen tip and twitching avidly against his stomach. Even though him fucking you while being all dressed and you completely bare is a way to humiliate and degrade you, he also likes to be naked sometimes.

He loves skin to skin contact, how your bodies stick together because of all the sweat coating you. It's addicting, it's rougher and it creates more friction — more pain.

He doesn't mind being naked too because he knows how to dominate you either way. He doesn't find it embarrassing, on the contrary, it makes him scarier and hungrier. While you shiver without your clothes on, curled up on yourself, Jimin is imposing, his cock thick and girthy enough to split you in half.

He crawls back to you, hovering over you like a predator had caught his prey, boring his eyes into yours. You look at him in awe, always waiting patiently. You feel his cock against your thigh, thick and veiny, your hole pathetically quivering — missing his size stretching out your pussy.

He sneaks a hand between your legs and reaches the little pink gem, ready to get it out. "Take a deep breath sweetheart," Jimin instructs and you inhale deeply.

He doesn't waste a second, pulling out the butt plug out of your ass. You scrunch your eyes shut at the pain, exhaling when it's done. He carefully sets it on the nightstand, coming back to you after.

He bends your legs over your stomach and looks at your ass, just begging him to fuck it, shining with lube and arousal that leaks from your pussy. His erect cock is just so close to it and Jimin could slide right in with one movement of his hips.

He lets go of one of your legs to grip his engorged erection, a little gasp escaping your lips when he presses the head of his cock at your tight hole, threatening to sink in.

"Sir," you sigh, not sure if you're ready for that. It always burns no matter how good you prepped before and he knows that. That's why he's so tempted, that he's staring so obsessively at your rim.

Will it hurt you? Will you grip his biceps in an attempt to dissuade him? He wants to see those tears falling from your eyes again, he wants to lick them and tastes your pain. He feels more blood rush to his penis at the mere thought of hurting you.

Give him all of your pain, he'll fucking take it whole and cherish it. He wants it — he needs it. Accuse him for having a sick and twisted mind, accuse him for everything you've ever been hurt by because he'll gladly take the blame.

"I know you can take it," he says in a low tone, glancing up at your face as he applies just a bit more pressure to your ass hole. "Can you, baby?" Jimin asks, waiting for you to admit how much you want it, how badly you want him to destroy you.

"Yes..." You whisper back, a long shiver running up your spine as his eyes pierce through you.

"Yes, what? Tell me, sweetheart," he demands, and it's as if he doesn't care about your response whatsoever because the next thing he does makes you yelp in pain.

His tip has entered you, the burning sensation forcing you to scrunch your eyes shut, your instinct thinking it'll protect you.

"Yes, I- I can..." you stutter and as expected, you dig your nails in the flesh of his biceps — only fair to hurt him in return. "I can take your cock in my ass..."

You take a sharp breath, eyes slowly opening, all watery and painful. Jimin groans at that, stuffing more of himself in your hole. "Good girl," he praises, voice raspy, ending with a deep grunt.

He stretches you out completely, his dick in no comparison to the toys you've used to prepare yourself. You open your mouth as he pushes himself in gradually, tears streaming down your face when you blink.

The tears roll down the side of your face and Jimin can't help but be turned on, leaning in to kiss your face and collect some of your tears, tasting the saltiness of them on his tongue.

"Jimin...!" You look at him with the saddest and most hurtful gaze, tears rolling down your face. "It burns," you add in a quiet voice, now scratching his back, leaving long red trails on his skin.

"I know, baby, I know," he softly murmurs in your ear, a husky moan leaving his mouth when he's completely nestled in you, balls touching your ass. "You're so tight, fuck," he sucks air through his teeth, not moving until he estimates he's waited long enough.

He gives warm and wet kisses to your neck, descending to your collarbones and groping your breasts, slowly starting to move his hips. You lock your legs behind his back, wanting him as close to you as possible despite the pain he's inflicting on you.

He loves knowing it hurts you because it makes it more pleasurable to him somehow. The pain will go away soon anyway, that's why he doesn't bother to stop or slow down. You have to get used to the feeling first.

He wouldn't go too far to hurt you. The choking, the hair pulling, the smacks... He keeps it for the bedroom, but he won't lie that there's a part of him that wants to ruin your life, ruin everything you've accomplished so far just so he can see those sad eyes of yours and hear you ask him for help out of desperation.

It's not even sexual, he just wants to break you, that's all he desires. Though your life is something he wants to destroy, it's more of a way to have you dependant on him after. If your career is no longer successful, your solution is Jimin because he's the only person in your life capable of taking care of you both emotionally and physically.

His teeth chew on the tender skin of your neck while his hand travels all over your body, many veins popping out along his strong arm. The cool sensation of his rings on your stomach makes you shiver, his finger gently circling your clit to make the pain more bearable.

His cock slides in your hole back and forth, your ass slowly but surely taking the size of girth. Many curses leave Jimin's mouth, your ass probably the best he's ever fucked. You feel so good around him, you're tight, but you loosen easily, making it so, so pleasurable for him.

His hand that was roaming over your body comes to close around your throat and he turns his head to your side, lips brushing over your temple. "Yeah, just like that, baby," he mutters under his breath, his nose pressing down on your hair as he murmurs the words to you. "Just like that..."

A choked moan is all you can respond, eyes rolling back in your skull as Jimin splits your ass open, fucking his thick cock into you. His hot breath hits the side of your face, his chest heaving rapidly while you claw at his back, white scratches appearing on his skin.

He sweetly kisses your temple as he pounds into you, not tightening his hand around your throat, just holding you in place — always letting you know that he is always in control.

Your tits slightly bounce up and down on your chest, little whines coming out of you each time Jimin bottoms out. It starts feeling good for you — really good — and you think that this pleasure is totally worth a bit of pain at the beginning.

You grip the hair at the nape of his neck and bring him in for a kiss. He accepts it, kissing you back as if he wants to possess your whole mouth, biting and licking your lips. You moan into his mouth, twisting his hair between your fist and sinking your nails into the flesh of his back.

He backs away from you a little, his plump lips glistening in both of your saliva, and places his two palms on your boobs. He feels your perky nipples under his hands, just loving how plushy your breasts are, fitting perfectly in his palms.

He keeps thrusting in you as he gropes your tits and you bring your hands over his, looking into each other's eyes. He lowly groans, holding eye-contact with you.

You feel his veins under your palms, your pussy clenching around nothing but air while you run your hands all over his arms. You enjoy the sensations of his pulsing veins under your small fingers as you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, staring into Jimin's dark eyes.

"Jimin..." You moan his name, throwing your head back and closing your eyes, just enjoying the feeling of his hard cock entering and exiting your tight hole. Jimin takes the opportunity to smooch your neck again as you expose it to him, his full lips delicately pressing down on your throat. "I love it," you sigh pleasantly.

He hums, the sound coming deep from his throat. He wants to hurt you, yes, but he likes it even more when you love the pain. He just knew you were exactly like him when he first saw you. He had the feeling that you needed someone like him, someone that'd push you to your limits and make you discover a new type of pleasure.

And he was right because there's not one time where you told him to stop.

"My dirty girl," he purrs in response, bringing his lips up to your jaw. He slowly rolls your nipples between his fingertips, pinching and pulling on them. "You're stupid, but so, so good for me, baby," he groans in your ear, gritting his teeth as he feels his balls tightening.

He slowly halts his hips movements, letting out heavy breaths as he eventually pulls out of you. You gasp when he does so, already missing his cock stretching out your ass.

You're both trying to catch your breaths, Jimin raising himself up from you and getting out of the bed. His erection stands tall against his stomach, bouncing up as he walks to the front of the bed.

You watch him getting away until he orders you to follow him. "Come here," he says softly and you don't make him wait. "On your knees," Jimin commands when you're facing him, sinking down to your knees after.

He places a hand behind your head and the other around the base of his dick, guiding the head of his cock toward your lips as he pushes down on your head.

"Here, baby," he instructs in a low voice. "Take it in your mouth." You part your lips to welcome Jimin's length, his bulbous tip shining in pre-cum and your juices under the light of the hotel room.

He immediately moans when he enters the warmth of your mouth, his heavy cock sliding on your wet tongue. He doesn't let you have much control, pushing his dick in your mouth until your nose touches his pubic hair.

You relax your jaw for Jimin, allowing him to stuff your mouth full of his cock. He looks down at you, watching the way your lips wrap around him tightly, your eyes starting to water. He still holds the back of your head with one hand, guiding you over his stiff erection and you moan obscenely around Jimin, drool dripping down on your chin.

He begins to fuck your mouth, forcing you to take the whole thing each time he bottoms out. He moves his hips back and forth, obsessed with the way his girth appears and reappears between your lips as he uses your mouth as he pleases.

"Shit," he hisses when you hollow your cheeks, making it more pleasurable for him. "You're a fucking cockslut, aren't you, baby?" He says breathily, his eyes not once leaving his cock penetrating your mouth over and over again.

You whine around him, surely agreeing with what he said. It sends deliciously vibrations through his entire body, the sounds of your moans and hearing you gag around him is so arousing to him. He wants to hear more so he literally uses your mouth like a toy, snapping his hips against you, his balls slapping your chin.

He lets out a deep moan, your cheeks now damp and eyelashes all wet because of your tears, eyes stinging as Jimin fucks your throat like a mad man.

"Stroke your clit," he manages to say between two heavy breaths. "You can get off by yourself, right? I know you're soaking wet just by letting me use that pretty mouth of yours," he mocks you, but he knows he's right. Whatever he does, your cunt is always dripping wet.

You whimper again, doing what he told you to and sneaking a hand between your thighs to play with your pussy. You part your legs wider as you circle your clit with your finger, Jimin's hooded eyes lazily watching you playing with yourself.

Your right hand is laying on his thigh while the other is operating between your legs, pleasuring yourself to the sounds of Jimin's moans and the feeling of his stiff cock weighing down on your tongue.

You do your best to breathe through your nose, swallowing around his length and flattening your tongue underneath him. Your juices drip down your inner thighs, your finger flickering over your sensitive bud smoothly because of your arousal.

The whole room is smelling like sex, an odour that Jimin can't ignore, loving it so much. Your lips glide so easily over his hard cock, completely covered in your spit and still some of your wetness, tasting yourself on him.

"Ah, fuck," he curses, his head rolling back on his shoulders, eyes still strained down on you. He feels the familiar burning sensation at the pit of his stomach, indicating he's really close to his orgasm. He stops thrusting in you. "Go on the bed, baby."

You're taken aback, but you follow his order, pulling him out of your mouth and laying your back down on the mattress close to the edge. You beautifully moan when Jimin penetrates your pussy a second time, bending your legs over your stomach.

"Oh, god," you cry softly, being pounded onto the bed by him right away, tits moving up and down on your chest.

His hands are positioned on each side of your shoulders, snapping his hips against yours so harshly you feel your skin stinging. You keep doing circle motions on your clit, now faster and impatient to reach your high.

You let out a high-pitched moan when Jimin suddenly steadies his hips over yours, dropping down to his elbows as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. "Holy fuck," he grunts, gripping the bed sheets tightly in fists beside your head as his cock twitches in your pussy.

"Yes, yes," you quietly exclaim, your clitoral orgasm passing through you, making you arch your back and buck your hips.

Your hole clenches repeatedly around him and he finally comes undone into you, shooting long, thick ropes of cum deep into you. He empties himself in your wet cunt, cumming just after you.

When he slips out of you, more spurts out of his tip, landing on your pussy, covering it in his creamy cum. You moan at the warm sensation, always loving how it feels both in and on you. Some of his seeds dribble out of you, dripping down to your ass.

He stays above you for some time, catching his breath and looking at the mess he made on you. He stares up at your face, seeing how fucked up you look, hair in a nest and eyes reddened.

Later, Jimin is in the shower, washing his hair and his body, passing a soft cloth soaked in soap over his chest. He lets the water fall over his head, wetting his black locks. He stays maybe a bit longer than normally, staring at the tiled wall.

He thinks about you, about all the things he's planned. He revised everything in his head, imagining you walk on the podium wearing his design, people looking at his piece with admiration in their eyes.

He thinks about all of that that will go down for you after the show, getting fired, losing your career and your fans. Many articles talking about your excessive use of alcohol and drugs, saying how tired and sad you look beside Jimin.

You won't last long, you're too weak anyway. A downfall like this is unconquerable, nobody recovers from that, and surely not a model who will be thrown out of the industry as soon as you turn twenty-five.

Jimin knows the industry, he's been in it for years now. He's aware of how cruel it is, how difficult and harsh it can be on fragile little girls like you.

But that's why he's here, to take care of you once nobody will want you anymore. That's the goal, after all; you to be finally his — solely and completely his.

"Jimin?"

Your voice reaches him, turning his head in your direction, seeing you hesitantly entering the shower with him. He opens his arms, inviting you to come closer and you do, hugging him and laying your head down on his wet chest.

"I love you, sweetheart," he softly murmurs against your hair. "I'll never leave you, you know that, right?"

You nod your head, looking up at him and meeting his gaze. "I love you, too."

๑♡՞

A F T E R

The runway went incredibly well. Celebrities and journalists were all gathered for the fall show, totally amazed by every design and the models that were wearing them.

But there was one specific piece that everyone was willing to say was the best.

Jimin was satisfied to see that his name stood out among everyone else's, being called more times than Dior itself. He predicted it; it was the creation that every guest remembered, the dress that the fans were only talking about.

He'd take all the credit, he was the one who imagined it and then sewed it after all, but he has to admit that you had contributed to the fame a lot.

Being the beloved face of Dior only made people talk more about it and that was what Jimin needed.

But everything has an end, doesn't it?

When Jimin comes back to his apartment, the place is silent except for the TV playing, as he thought it would be. You're looking through the window, watching the city living at night while it's raining. You're sitting on the sofa, not even acknowledging his presence as he enters, getting rid of his shoes.

You're not much of a talker since you've been fired from Dior a few days ago just after the fall show. He understands your wish of remaining silent, needing a bit of space to process everything that has happened the past weeks in your small head.

It was going to happen soon enough anyway. You've been to your photoshoots completely drunk, sometimes just going in with a hangover, but of course it didn't help your case at all.

Jimin was guilty for letting you drink alcohol so soon in the morning. No need to deny it, he was even the one for dropping you off at work like that. Well, he had to do it if he wanted people to notice how far you've fallen.

He doesn't feel bad, though. Your career wasn't going to last with Jimin's sabotage or not. He did you a favour, you should be thankful.

You can't handle being a model. If you could, none of that would have happened. You wouldn't have gained weight, you would have been suspicious of the amount of calories Jimin was feeding you. The bottle of wine wouldn't have been so tempting and smoking weed wouldn't have ever occurred to you as a good idea.

Some people can, others can't and you're one of them. You shouldn't be ashamed of it, sometimes things just don't work out like we would have wanted them to.

"Did you see the article they wrote about me?" You ask, already knowing he's walking up to you without looking. "You surely did, I bet that's all they're talking about..."

He sits down beside you and you eventually turn around, facing him. You care so much about what others think of you. It must be so tiring having such a low self-esteem. He can only imagine it; seeing you look through the window like a sad puppy, your life finally making sense when Jimin comes home.

"I did, but nothing of that matters to me," he answers, the most honest he's ever been. And even if he had to lie, it's not like you wouldn't have believed him. You always trust whatever he says.

You don't reply, your head still filled with many thoughts.

"Hey, come here," he softly tells you, patting his thigh. You straddle his lap, setting your hands on his shoulders. He cups your chin, forcing you to look at him as you keep avoiding his gaze. "Whatever they say, whatever their name is, nothing will ever be more important than you."

Because who is he if he lets some article affect the way he sees you? He's known you since the beginning of your career and he stayed til the end of it.

He knows you better than everyone else. He was with you during your highs and lows and he'll still be there for the next ones. There's nothing in the world that could make him leave you. After everything he's done to have you, there's no way he'll go away.

How cowardly of him if he does. He can't leave when he's promised he'd heal you — close all of your past wounds and create other ones.

He may be selfish, but there's one thing that he isn't and it's a fucking liar. He sticks to his words, and when he says he'll never leave you, that means he'll never, never abandon you — he'll never leave your side, not even once. He can't risk it.

๑♡՞

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taglist: @mcsalterego @blueberryarchive @gyukookswhore @bloopkook @ot72025 @mrsminho @ownthesunshine @dahliadaenerys

[hansolsfearofbugs]

Skz- Before He Confesses

little things they do while they have a crush on you, sfw

huyng line edition - Bang Chan, Lee Know, Changbin, Hyunjin

maknae line

part 2- how he confesses: hyung line

Chan

finds himself looking out for you like he does for the members

little things like making sure to set some of your favorite snacks aside (yes he payed attention) before the members get to them

or packing an extra hoodie in case you get cold (this one's not totally selfless...he can't deny how much he likes seeing you in his clothes)

this is more of a thing that'd happen when y'all are in a relationship but he would absolutely hold you in a way where he could hear your heartbeat

that hairtie you left lying around that one time? he's keeping it on his wrist in case you ever need it

sticking with that theme: he would remember all of the little things you've told him about yourself

he would know your favorite food, restaurants, places, clothing brands, books, tv shows, movies, colors, jewelry, and anything else

tries to casually slip his knowledge of these things into conversations hoping to impress you

would overthink every text he sends you

like he would draft everything in his notes app, read it over to make sure there's no typos and that theres the right balance of exclamation points so he doesn't seem to angry, but not so many that it's weird, and would have to take a deep breath before sending you anything

one of the members definitely found the note in his phone with all the drafted messages and he got so much shit for it lol

watches videos of you two over and over again while smiling like an idiot

Lee Minho

finds himself talking to soonie, doongie, and dori about you

"she's just funny and sweet"

"meow"

"exactlyyy"

is scared to get caught staring at you so he purposefully looks down when he's near you which just makes it more obvious that he likes you

this is what gets him caught by the members

is reduced to a quiet, blushing mess when the members confront him about his feelings for you

stalks your social media to figure out what music you're listening too

makes a playlist titled "her" with all the songs you like and listens to it to feel closer to you

will purposefully mix your songs in with his when he has the aux to impress you

so happy when he sees you smiling and singing along to one of your songs

brings you coffee and pastries in the morning but doesn't actually have the courage to give them to you in person

just leaves them by your stuff with a little note so you know it's for you :)

seo changbin

changbin is absolutely the type to become your boy bsf to get close to you

is there to listen or give you advice on everything

#1 outfit advice friend

i mean he's not necessarily the best at outfit advice but it's the enthusiasm that counts

gets so happy when you send him pics of different outfits and ask for his opinons

thinks you look so pretty in everything you send him

purposefully "accidentally" matches with you now that he knows what you're wearing

stands close to you whenever you're in group settings and will stare down any guy he catches checking you out

tries to "accidentally" make physical contact whenever he can

hand gently on your waist as he walks past you

knees brushing together under the table

grabbing your hands when he's excited

touches your shoulder when laughing

you're the only one thats allowed to call him binnie

the members heard you call him binnie and when he just let it happen they were so confused

that's how they figured out he liked you

they teased the hell out of him for it

hwang hyunjin

catches all his sketches turning into you

what can he say? you're his muse

daydreams romantic scenarios with you before he falls asleep

his personal favorite is slow dancing with you on an empty stage in the moonlight after everyone else has left

has made several paintings and sketches of that exact scenario

will sketch pretty flowers on napkins when y'all are out as gifts for you

has a collection of book quotes and songs that remind him of you

purposefully shows off a bit in dance practice whenever he knows you're watching

has a talent for finding you in a crowd if you go to a performance

takes note of the jewelry you wear and buys himself pieces in similar styles so he can match with you

has read every book and watched every tv show he's ever heard you talk about

always asks you to do up his tie for him when he's getting ready for awards shows

doodles on your arm when he's bored

likes to sit next to you while he sketches or reads and you get work done

doesn't bother him that its quiet, he just likes to be in your presence

steals glances at you while you're reading or working because he thinks you look extra pretty while you're concentrating

a/n: if you enjoyed this check out the maknae line version!

check out part 2- how they confess: hyung line

[meanbossart]

i just need to take a second to gush about how much i love durge drow and astarion, they feel so fleshed out and perfectly written together in their fucked up wretched ways. They really inspire me to write more for my own tavs, hopefully one day ill be able to say im as happy with my own work as i get when seeing yours. I have to ask though, do you have any tips on drawing head shapes and faces? or maybe about wrinkles? i find i really struggle with that stuff when drawing and i adore how expressive and grungey all your art looks!

First of all thank you so much, I love hearing what people think of the two of them together 😭

Honestly you've hit on something that's quite near and dear to my heart, I love developing and figuring how to draw and stylize different faces to get the most unique, interesting looking results - everything about the details is highly rewarding to me. What does x type of nose look like from this angle? In this style? How can this eyeshape best translate to my art? How different does a face look when its making this expression? What does that MOUTH DO? etc etc.

In fact you kind of inspired me to put a little tutorial/guide together the last hour lmao and what a blessing it is that the two current subjects of this blog serve as great models here, being that their faces are basically polar opposites!

When it comes to heads, you've probably heard it a dozen times before that you want to think of them in terms of geometry and facets; my process to drawing them is pretty conventional so I won't spend too much time on it, but it goes something like this:

Obviously I don't do every single one of these steps most of the time, which is just something that comes from practice/developing muscle memory, but it is helpful to start off this way for two main reasons:

By making these guide lines and splitting a head into pieces like this, you'll have an easier time seeing and understanding it as a multidimensional object, and in turn, facilitate It for you when you venture out into doing wacky angles and lighting.

Making different headshapes starts HERE. notice how Astarion's "face" slate is narrower and longer, how my durge's jaw pieces sit lower on the head, how all of the same pieces came together in the same way but we ended up with one real pointy elf and a real brick of a drow - making characters look different successfully begins very early in the sketching process.

The next thing you want to do branches out into every day life: start noticing yours and other people's facial features. How does an upturned nose look from a high angle? How does the size of someone's cheekbones affect what they look like when they smile? How about when the light hits them a certain way? Does someone's lip shape changes when they pout? When they laugh? How does a person's hairline change the shape of their face? You do NOT need to creepily sketch every stranger you see on the bus, but get into the habit of actually noticing what people look like when you talk to them - when you look at pictures, when you watch movies - make a mental list of interesting ways mouths, noses, and eyes can come together in a variety of different proportions to make completely distinct looking mugs, and how they change depending on how you are looking at them.

Light and shadow play a HUGE role in how faces look, too, basically as crucial as actual bone structure does. As you see up there I tried to rough out how natural, head on, and underhead light would look on these two very different looking guys, and while we can see definite patterns, there are small differences that come to be because of the sizes and shapes of their features.

Here is a very, very basic look at how some of these features come to look the way they do, how they interact with one another, and how they compare between a blocky, rather conventionally "masculine" head and one that's much softer and slimmer.

Note please that it is not one or two characteristics that give a chaarcter their "look"; you can reduce a face to eyes, mouth, and nose through stylization and still have them be recognizable, but if you want to do more than that, you have to consider the whole package! Chin, cheeks, brows, direction of the jaw, slope and size of the forehead, depth of eyes, ridge of the nose, etc - I know this is probably far more than you bargained for, but if you start making note of a FEW of these things now and slowly add on, this will eventually become second nature to you.

Similarly, understanding how these characteristics come together will help you with rendering light and shadow in a realistic way, and predicting what their facial expressions may look like - if no two people are alike, neither are their smiles. :)

Lastly, remember that I'm no expert - I have developed my own methods and semiotics and yours may look slightly (or vastly) different, and that's fine! I hope only that by sharing this it has given you a base to work off of.

Anyways, I HOPE this has been helpful and not just the unsolicited ramblings of a face pervert.

[ethernights]

Arthur Morgan Headcanons :3

he’s a killer no he’s my little pookie bear (gn! reader)

I feel like he’s super domestic - that one of his favourite things in the world is just to be at camp with you

Not even doing anything particular he just loves being around you while being safe and comfortable in camp

He most definitely loves cuddles in the mornings. He roles over in the morning and takes in your sleeping form, slowly and tentatively he wraps his arms around you and holds you close to him planting soft little kisses and with his large hands tracing the lines of your back.

“Mornin’ sweetheart” he says as you stir with that handsome goofy smile he never does as often as you’d like.

You plant a soft, lazy kiss on his lips “Morning handsome”. He opens his mouth to object but you shush him and settle down into his arms.

“I don’t want to get up” you mumble into his chest. He lets out a hearty chuckle, “do ya’ want Miss Grimshaw to beat you up?”

You laugh too, “No, but i want to just say here a little longer”

“Me too love. Just a little while longer ok?”

He’s so gentle towards you, not because he thinks you’re fragile but because he’s so afraid of hurting not just you but everyone he cares about.

Is always sketching you, wether you’re looking or not. Even before you got together, he’d have just pages dedicated to you (not in the creepy way) doing the hundreds of different things you do each day.

Pretty sketches of you picking flowers with Jack, with said flowers in your hair, chopping vegetables with Pearson, carrying in kindling from the forest and cutting wood. Anything really - it’s the only drawings that he really loves to look back on, especially when he’s away from camp and missing you.

With your sleeves rolled up to your elbows, you wipe the thin sheen of sweat from your forehead after chopping up some wood for camp - you spot Arthur sitting on his bed, nose in his journal sketching away. When his looks up, his pretty blue eyes meet yours- he adverts his gaze and shoves his nose back into his journal with a blush spreading over his cheeks and nose.

When he sees you walking over to him, he (not very discreetly) closes his journal and places it beside him as you sit next to him.

“What you drawing cowboy?” you smile, noticing the redness of his cheeks.

“I uh, jus’ pretty things i seen” he says avoiding your gaze.

“Can i see?” you ask as he looks a little hesitant.

“I guess-“ He says opening up his journal to his recent page.

You read your name scribbled atop of the page in his pretty cursive writing, however the charcoal drawing of you drawing the axe down into the wood makes you blush a little. The other sketches of your face and side profile make you smile - you admire the scratches of the charcoal against the page, how he captures the high points and the low points of your face.

“These are beautiful Arthur” You say, amazed with his talent.

Instinctively he goes to say some self-depreciating comment, not used to accepting praise but he sees your wide eyes and large smile. “Thank you sweetheart”

He also really likes riding with you on the same horse, in-front or behind him he doesn’t care. He loves the way you wrap your arms around him and hold onto his gun belt. Or way that you lean back into his chest while he has one hand on the reins and the other resting atop your thigh or his arm wrapped around your stomach.

Overall i think he loves physical affection - giving and receiving, it’s definitely his love language. Just holding you and admiring you is his personal definition of heaven. PDA is definitely not his thing though, he much prefers the privacy of his tent or the quietness and peace of the wilderness even if it doesn’t last long while the two of you are there.

[ghouljams]

(The Day After)Halloween on the Farm (Ghost's Version) Rating: T, there's vague nudity and mentioned sex Word Count: <1k Tags: This is all fluff folks, short and sweet, Ghost x f!OC/reader, very and I mean very minor descriptions of reader, reader has a scar Summary: You spent all night last night policing other people's fun, now you can spend time relaxing in Ghost's company. If he'd come back to bed, that is.

The sheets fall off of you, the sun streaming over your stomach and creeping towards your eyes as it rises. You wake up just enough to toss an arm over your eyes. It takes you a moment of drifting for the scratching of pencil on paper to reach you. It's the only noise in the silence of the room until you groan and go to grab your blanket.

"Don't move," Simon tells you quietly. You smile to yourself and let out a breath, sinking back into the bed. 

"When did you get up?" You ask, settling in to listen to him draw. The soft drag of graphite is lulling, gentle and familiar. Simon is quiet for a long time as he works but you're patient, and you're not going anywhere.

"Hour ago," he says when his pencil stills, his fingers rub against the paper, "maybe."

You stretch a little, arch your back and twist your hips in the quiet. As long as he isn't sketching you can move, and you're quick to settle back into position. It's an attention you'll never get used to. The way you can feel his eyes drag over you, studying you with an open affection, makes you feel more beautiful than anyone ever has. He's not one to show off, but the few times you've seen his sketches they were amazing. His attention to detail is meticulous, every shadow shaping forms and adding softness, weight, to his sketches.

You wait for him to start sketching again. Each short scratch a new shadow that is rubbed soft by his fingers. You could almost doze like this. The soft light of the morning and the warmth of the house threaten to drag you back towards slumber. It's so warm in here, no wonder you barely notice the loss of your blankets. Simon must have turned up the heat after you fell asleep, easier than putting clothes on after sex you suppose. He stops sketching and you seize the opportunity.

"Can I see?" You chance the ask, he grunts and you hear the drag of his eraser.

"Sure." Your heart feels like it's going to burst. You move your arm from your eyes to check its OK to move and catch Simon staring at you. He really must have just woken up, his hair sticks in different directions, and he’s only wearing sweats. He's pulled one of the kitchen chairs to sit next to the bed, his shoulders hunched over his sketchbook. The pencil in his hands looks so small. He raises a brow, and that's good enough for you. He holds the book out to you as you push yourself up, and waits for you to take it from him. 

When you do you have to stop from pressing your fingers against the paper, you can't trace the lines of graphite as desperately as you want to. You don't want to ruin his art, but you can't believe what you're seeing is really you. You're not insecure by any stretch of the word, but the way he draws you… "Am I really this pretty?" You breathe, eyes touching on the dip of your waist, the swell of your breasts, the soft part of your lips, the scar along your stomach so adoringly detailed. 

Simon hums, and you glance at him. He’s staring at you, watching you inspect his work. His gaze is so open it almost makes you want to praise him. You think he’d like that.

“No,” He tugs the sketchbook free of your hands and starts scratching his pencil against the page, feathering the strokes along your sketched lashes, “You’re prettier in person, haven’t gotten it right yet.”

You lean forward against your knees with a smile and rest your head on your folded arms to watch Simon work. He’s so gruff, so practical with everything, it never fails to surprise you that his hobby is so delicate. Maybe that isn’t the right word, careful? Meticulous you could buy, but that makes too much sense with Simon. No, you like delicate. It speaks to the care, the consideration in his art. You’ve watched him draw his own hands, so meticulous to trace every vein and scar, and yet looking at the finished product it’s almost appreciative. 

It’s definitely appreciative when he draws you. You know that much. You can see it. His eyes dart to look at you and back down to the paper, each line struck with purpose, each glance a calculation. And again you think that for all the technical parts, it’s loving. His sketchbooks are full of you, pieces of you litter every page, every inch. He’s packed full of you, just like you’re stuffed to the brim with him.

“I love you,” You tell him. He sucks in a breath, the same way he always does, almost disbelieving.

“Love you too,” He mutters, burying himself a little further in his work. 

“We should fuck when you’re done,” You mumble, closing your eyes to enjoy the warm house, the warm affection in your chest. Simon’s sketchbook snaps shut almost as quickly as the words leave your mouth. You peek up at your husband to watch him strip his pants off, and reach to push you back down against the bed.

You move with his insistent hands, and stretch out against the bed again, letting his eyes roam over you with a different sort of appreciation. He pulls your legs up around his waist as you reach for him, tugging him down to kiss him. Simon meets your lips all too eagerly, and you let out a pleased hum as you finally receive a proper good morning.

[egophiliac]

I was wanting to try doing an art piece in the style of the signature spell poster art pieces you create. But I’m not really the best at coming up with a composition for such a thing.

Do you have a process for how you come up with the compositions for them?

oh, awesome! it is an INCREDIBLY enjoyable style to work in; I hope you have fun with it! :D

I'm not great at putting my thought/art process into words, so my apologies if this doesn't make a lot of sense, but I'll try! my first step is always to do a LOT of thumbnails to figure out both the idea and how I want to show it; not trying to do a real sketch or anything, just little doodles to figure out what exactly I'm trying to portray. (I also call these "garbage passes" because they're not meant to be any good, they're just there to throw things out. aha. ha. ...anyway.) I think it's important during that first stage to really focus on the idea and the layout and not to get too bogged down in the actual drawing yet!

I tend to save my final thumbnails, so I'll use 'em as examples (I posted the ones up through episode 5 here if you're interested!) (and, uhhh, spoilers through episode 5 also in this post, hopefully that won't be an issue!)

the main thing I try to think about in composition is balance -- not necessarily in terms of symmetry, but in where each element is placed and how much space it's taking up. remember, empty space is still space! it's also really important to think about the parts that don't have anything in them, as much as the parts that do!

personally, I like to divide things up roughly by both halves and by thirds -- there's a lot more in-depth info out there on why the "rule of thirds" in particular works well visually, but in short, our brains tend to focus on things that are placed closer to imaginary division lines, instead of in the exact center of an image. so even when I'm doing something that is very centered and symmetrical, I try to keep that in mind and generally aim around those for landmarks like faces/eyes (or...where they would be, anyway) and other focal points.

it's not a formula of "the character's face should be in this division of this grid" or anything, more like "our minds like to focus on these areas, let's think about how to use that", if that makes sense! and of course rules are made to be broken, art is lawless anarchy, and so on. but it can be a good starting place for deciding where you want to put things!

(blue - thirds, red - half)

and against the finished versions, because they do usually end up changing a lot (including the empty space of the border):

(...these actually lined up a lot better than I thought they would. :') it makes me look like I do things way more intentionally than I do.)

other stuff I just try to keep in mind is that our eyes like following arcs and paths, which can be a good way to guide the eye:

and frame and control the focus:

honestly, composition is one of those things I feel like I struggle with a lot, so I'm not sure how much of this is helpful or actually makes sense outside of my head. but hopefully it helps a little! it's all just stuff to think about while drawing and not anything hard-and-fast, so don't, like, stress out about making sure things are lining up exactly on the thirds or anything. again, it's more "our brains think these are the dopest parts of the rectangle" than anything else! take advantage of the cool parts of the rectangle!

NOW GO HAVE FUN DRAWING seriously though, it is always super cool that other people like this idea and style enough to want to do it themselves and for other/their own characters! thank you! ❤️❤️❤️

[kombuuuu]

OMG WAIT WAIT WAIT

MILES (42) BEING ASKED TO PAINT A MURAL WITH THE CUTIE IN HIS ART CLASS

“You started without me?”

“Not my fault you’re slow.”

“Slow! Am not! I was — busy.”

“Uh huh…”

You have him a quick smile and easy stare, teasing him as you shook the spray paint obnoxiously.

“Stop stressing, Miles. I’ve only done the rough outline.”

His name rolled off your tongue so nicely, and he faltered for a moment as your voice rung around his head.

“Did you stick to the sketch?” A quick recovery.

“No. I went rogue.” A quicker retort.

He snorted at your blatant lie, and turned his attention from the mural above your head, to you. He watched you sort through paints, choosing complimenting colours to the backdrop provided by the school. A brick wall, not much but we’ll make do.

You glanced up, and caught his eye, giving him a curious look right as he looked away.

“You gonna help out or not?”

He fumbled, before ultimately deciding to stay quiet and nod. You watched him grab a light blue, and grumbled appraisingly.

“You have experience with this?”

“Art?” He looked over at you with a sort of ‘stupid question’ look. You laughed lightly and shook your head. “Well, we were asked to do this for a reason.”

“No, dumbass. I know you’re in my art class—,” You look away bashfully at the slip up. Not like some of your more personal works are of him, or anything.

“,—I mean — you grabbed that can with a lot of confidence. You got experience in vandalism?”

“Wh— Uh. No— It’s not.. Ehh—”

When you busted out a short laugh, quickly covering your mouth and trying to stifle it. His face dropped into a playfully annoyed glare.

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Sorry! Sorry…”

A small tear lingered at the corner of your eye, and if it hadn’t made your eyes glisten so prettily against golden light, he might’ve reached out to swipe it.

“I’m no snitch.”

“Hope so, cause you just busted my ass.”

You giggled again, squinting at him and reaching down for a different can. “Better help me get that A then, Miles. Now I have something against you.”

You teased him again, and he gasped playfully. Indulging in your harmless taunts.

“Oh yeah. I just have to make this perfect now.”

“You weren’t gonna before?”

He watched you drag a smooth line down the wall, flicking your wrist off to end it in a fade. Then deadpanned towards you when your focus returned to him.

“You take every chance, don’t ya’?”

“I like to think it’s one of my better qualities.”

The smile you gave him had his stomach fluttering.

“Maybe you think right.”

You looked almost taken aback by his affirmation. Bashful eyes leaving his and a mumble of something he couldn’t tell if was agreeing or not boosting his confidence back up.

“Just—, Help me out with this, Miles.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Maybe he has the same affect on you, as you do him.

[wrtingsoftheunknown]

Vincent Sinclair HC

Vincent Sinclair hc SFW and NSFW

I’ve haven’t  been seeing my boy get repped recently so I have to do it myself. My first time writing something on here or towards this character ,I promise I will get better y'al,l I made this super quickly not proofread oops.

SFW

-While he can be insecure about his face he definitely has an ego from being the favorite child and having perfected his craft.

Lester drags him out to go for a ride around town or force him to come to his place for some quality brother time (Bo joins every now and then but wants peace and quiet dammit )

‘I know a lot of people have him learn sign language but I think he either writes what he wants to say, speaks as best as he can, or gestures, ( he was born in the south to parents that I don't think cared about communicating with him too much but he could have picked it up later in life maybe in his teen years or middle school era)

More sadistic than Bo when it comes to killing, he doesn't care if they are dead or alive when working on them and takes satisfaction in the result of his work

He prefers to work in silence but you can catch him humming now and then some country song or a guilty pleasure pop song from the 80’s( I see you Vince)

I think he partakes in multiple forms of art besides wax work.We see he’s able to paint, draw, but he also  takes pictures, , sews, writes, makes videos, anything artistic he’s learning and keeping up with new techniques.

Since he takes video of the killings at times I think they sell them as snuff films to make extra cash on top of stealing and selling victims stuff. (At least that’s what I thought when I first watched the film anyone else or just me)

Rarely happens but will keep victims that interest him like Bo ,but dispose of them when they get boring  or no longer match up the ideal version of them in his head.

-Does want a lifelong partner, the white wedding and picket fence, kids,  but knows it might be difficult with the line of work he does.

- He can talk but only does when it’s important or to emphasize something. He does have a southern draw like Bo and I imagine his voice to sound similar but raspier, maybe deeper/ quieter from not using it as much.

-like I said earlier you have to really catch his attention and be able to hold it for more than a week, if that happens then he’s obsessed and protective maybe a little too over protective.

Does indeed have a hair care routine I believe this full throttle and no one can can tell me otherwise I'm not listening.

NSFW

I don't know if he’s a virgin, I don't think he is something is telling me he isn't, but i’m not sure

He has no problem with nudity, bodies are seen as art, there's not as much of a sexual connotation with them as with Bo and Lester .

He wants to be in love with the person he is intimate with, he wants to be worship and worship his muse.

Drawings  of his partner naked as well as in the midst of a passionate night, he might tease them all night to make sure the sketch is as life like and accurate as possible

Good size and thick that's all I gotta say

Praise kink hard core, hearing his partner call him a good boy or how he makes them feel so good he will crumble

He starts slow and sensual, enjoys the control he has and having someone at his power.

I think he will edge you and leave you high and dry when you act out but he always caves by the end of the day and gives you what you need.

Can last a long time surprisingly

Mainly a giver but someone please for the love of god give this man the nastiest had he’s ever received will make the prettiest noises 

Is down to try anything new and more open about sex than you would think.

When he’s horny he comes up behind his partner and starts caressing every inch he can reach, while resting his chin on their shoulder acting as innocent as he can.

[musings-of-a-college-dork]

An Odd Request

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Word count: roughly 1K

Steve’s wife goes to the gym and makes an odd request when she arrives home. 

Warnings: sorta NSFW (mdni), use of Y/N, terms of endearment (baby).

Author’s note: This is just fluffy Steve and was written directly after I got home from the gym needing this man and a very specific kind of cuddling so…here it is! Short and sweet and very silly. Hope y’all enjoy! 

It was a quiet Saturday morning in the Harrington household. Steve was the only one home, having a few hours on his own as Y/N went to meet her personal trainer. She had been seeing a trainer for a while as she, quote on quote, wanted “to be able to carry all the groceries in a single trip all by myself.” A noble and worthy cause in Steve’s eyes and yet as long as he was around, she’d never have to lift a finger. He was more than content to show off his own strength for her enjoyment…and yet wished to support her in any and all of her goals so off to the gym she had gone. As such, he had the home to himself for a few hours, a chance to get some work done. 

He had spent most of the morning thus far drinking his coffee and sketching up new basketball drills and formations for the middle school team he coached. He finally understood exactly what Hopper had meant all those years ago about “coffee and contemplation” finding more and more that the man’s wisdom was never ending the older he got. We’ve gotta tighten up their current formations, he thought as the TV played some mindless sitcom in the background while he chewed on the end of his pencil. His mind looked over the squiggles on the paper in front of him trying to decide how to fix this. It had been weeks since they had won a game and morale was dropping fast. Jamie has to pass more but Donovan can’t really shoot…maybe if we move Paul to center and then swap Jordan and Cole we could-

The man wasn’t given another moment to think as he heard the front door open and close with a loud slam, the sound of feet padding their way down the entry hallway. 

“Hey, baby!” Steve called as he continued to focus on the squiggles, drawing a few more lines before erasing them with equally as much vigor, “How was the gym?” A loud groan was all he received in reply as his wife dropped her bag to the ground and kicked off her tennis shoes, not even bothering to put them in the basket where she knew they belonged. The same basket she insisted his shoes lived in but rules didn’t apply to her, at least not right now. I’ll tease her about it later. “That good huh?” He called with a low chuckle as he ran a hand through his hair, “Well your protein shake is in the fridge. Should be cold enough since I put it in when you left.” Oddly enough, the man received no response. He waited a moment before he called again, looking up from his work.

“Bab-” And just like that she was in front of him. He jumped and let out a quiet swear as he clutched a hand to his chest. He hadn’t seen her before she had left and found himself taking a sharp inhale as he looked her up and down. She looked so fucking gorgeous in those tight black leggings that fit her just right, a simple white workout top, hugging her every curve, and the expensive black workout jacket he had saved up to get her for Christmas that she never left for the gym without. Not to mention the way her hair looked post-workout and the glow of sweat that radiated off of her. He was about to open his mouth to make some lewd remark he hoped she’d find charming but-

“Hold my tits.” The man blinked once, then again, his mouth open and gaping like a fish. 

“W-what?” 

“I want your hands on my tits,” Y/N repeated, holding his gaze with complete and utter seriousness, “Please.” 

“Like…you want my…”

“Your hands. On my tits. Now.” When the man continued not to move his wife let out a deep sigh and took the pencil from his hand, laying it down next to his sketch as she replaced it with something much better. She led his large palm gently to her breast, letting out a sigh of relief as she encouraged him to give a little squeeze. Again, Steve didn’t even know what to do, never having seen her like this. Sure, she was usually a little more cuddly and blissed out after the gym as the endorphins ran through her body but this was…new. A good kind of new. 

“So I take it you had a good time at the gym?” The man teased breathlessly as he ushered her around the coffee table to sit beside him on the couch. The woman let out a hum in confirmation as she laid down so they were pressed together, her back to his front, and wrapped his arms around her so his hands could live right where she needed them to. Another chuckle came from Steve as he buried his face into her hair finding-

“Did you put on perfume?” 

“After working out,” she whispered as her eyes closed shut in complete and utter satisfaction, being held just the way she needed to be right now, “Didn’t want to come home smelling only like sweat.”

“I don’t mind,” Steve used his nose to brush the hair from the side of her neck, making her giggle as he pressed mindless kisses there, “I smell like sweat all the time and you still love me.” 

“I do,” Y/N titled her head so he could press a kiss to her lips, one she returned eagerly before laying her head back down on the couch, “Fuck, I’m never doing the Stairmaster ever again.” 

“Y/N, baby, if this,” Steve gave her tits a little squeeze to punctuate his thought, “is what happens after you’re on the Stairmaster, by all means, keep doing it. Any excuse to cuddle with my pretty little wife and hold her boobies is more than fine by me.” 

“Don’t call them that,” Y/N scrunched her nose with a chuckle as she pressed her ass more into him to fit them closer together. 

“What?” The man teased giving another squeeze, “Boobies?” 

“STEVE!” The couple dissolved into a communal fit of giggles as they lay there together, all stress and strain completely forgotten as calm domesticity filled their hearts and home. 

[molotovmetro]

Hi! I hope you are well!

I was wondering if you could do 141+Alejandro Vargas with a male reader who disassociates a lot? Not while working, but if you catch him anywhere else he’s usually just staring blankly at the wall while barely blinking and whenever someone talks to him while he’s in his “trance” he kinda gets shocked like he’s just woken up from a very deep sleep and goes like “HOLY JESU- oh hey what’s up”

I feel a little called out... /hj

Thank you for requesting, I hope you like it :)

Warnings: disassociation

M!reader

A/N: someone pointed out to me that using the term "zoning out" can come across as dismissive/invalidation. I personally do experience a lot of disassociation so this was far from ny intention. I tried not to get too repetitive so I tried using a different term, but I didn't think of the fact it might come across as rude. Just wanted to clarify this real quick.

The 141 + Alejandro with a s/o who disassociates a lot

Ghost

Honestly? Ghost is most likely sitting right next to you also disassociating.

It used to freak the team out a little, but they're used to it by now. Its a daily occurrence and they just leave you to it until they need either of you for something.

Usually it happens because he silently sits next to you, waiting for you to snap out of it, which doesn't happen because he's not trying to talk to you, and then he just checks out himself.

This guy has so much on his mind and deals with so much stress, sometimes it's nice to not have to think.

Soap

You and Soap regularly give each other heart attacks. Him by coming up to you and immediately talking your ear off, snapping you out of your head, and you with your startled reaction.

It's like a golden retriever puppy sprinting into a room and then jumping a meter into the air because something startled it. Except the thing is another puppy who also jumps.

The few times he doesn't just barge into your room already talking, he usually hangs around you in silence, sketching or writing in his journal and lets you do your thing.

He waits for you to come back to earth and then teases you about it.

Gaz

Like Soap, if you suddenly snap out of it Gaz'll startle himself. He gets used to it after a while, though.

He tries to find a way to "wake" you without shocking you. It's a long process of trial and error, and he jokingly treats it as a very serious science experiment. He will be taking notes.

He's a bit more successful in finding out what gives you the biggest heart attack instead, but he's not giving up that easily.

He'd make sure to have a chat with Price about your behaviour. He just wants to make sure you're okay.

Price

Especially at first, Price is a little concerned about it. He's just worried about your wellbeing.

He might subtly suggest you maybe go talk to a psychologist about it. He's seen too many men lose themselves to the trauma that comes with their line of work to risk seeing the same thing happen to you.

But if you explain to him that it's just something that happens, and not caused by flashbacks or the like, he'll be relieved and back off.

When he sees you staring blankly at the wall he'll just huff out a chuckle and fondly shake his head.

Alejandro

Out of everyone here, Alejandro gets used to it the quickest.

It's just like that sometimes. He gets it.

Unless you ask him to, or he needs you for something, he just let's you be.

He absolutely will give dirty looks to anyone who disturbs you. Maybe even a scolding if you're really surprised.

If he sees you zoning out while he's going about his day, he'll make sure to take a second to put a blanket around your shoulders if its cold, or put a glass of water on the nearest surface for when you snap out of it.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [24] - Geraniums

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: Inspiration can strike at midnight.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions and descriptions of domestic violence, injuries and trauma. 

Word Count: 3400

Series Masterlist

Playing the madly in love couple in public had never been challenging so far, so it was quite surprising that the mask was slipping.

You had a feeling that it was mostly because of you though.

For the past week, you had managed to keep your interaction with Benedict to a minimum even though it felt incredibly hard. Whenever you saw him in the hallway or you two went to your separate rooms, you were filled with this powerful urge to talk to him, but after that duel you weren’t so sure you could.

Though, there was no denying it. You missed him terribly.

Benedict on the other hand was respecting your wishes and giving you the space you wanted. Though you two pretended as if nothing was wrong in public, the usual displays of affection were not there, no doubt because he didn’t want to cross the line you drew between you two.

“Are you sure everything is alright?” Felix asked you while he sketched beside you under the tree you were leaning your back against. Charlotte had asked both you and Benedict to join her on a picnic but Anthony had spent no time to whisk her away, and Benedict was busy talking with his artist friends so you had excused yourself to read a book in the shadow of a tree, Felix soon joining you to sketch the view in a peaceful corner.

“Absolutely,” you said. “Why do you ask?”

Felix shrugged before tilting his head. “Is that your brother-in-law?”

You turned your head, then raised a hand in the air so that Andrew could see you, a smile lighting up his face immediately.

“This is a lovely surprise,” he said as he threw himself next to you. “Clover. Felix.”

“Andrew,” Felix said with a smile and you held back a grin upon hearing the first name basis.

“What are you doing here?” you asked and he motioned at the entrance of the park.

“Oh I had this business with an incredibly boring lord about—it doesn’t matter,” he said. “How about you? Is Jo around as well?”

“Mm hm, she and Bess decided to take a walk around the park,” you said and he grinned.

“They do love their walks.”

You shot him a mischievous glance and he looked inside the picnic basket.

“No cookies this time?”

“My reaction exactly,” Felix said and Andrew tut-tutted.

“You play with our feelings, Y/N.”

“I’m just sitting here doing nothing,” you deadpanned, turning your gaze to Benedict at the moment he stole a glance at you, and you both looked elsewhere at the same time. Felix raised his brows and Andrew looked between you.

“Oh something happened.”

“That’s what I said!”

“Nothing happened, you both are being nonsense—” you started but got distracted the moment your looked at Benedict again who was just approached by Lady Margery. That bitter taste climbed up your throat as you gritted your teeth, but then forced yourself to turn back to your book.

“Oh it’s a jealousy issue,” Andrew pointed out and turned to Felix while your eyes widened. “That settles it.”

“It’s not a jealousy issue!”

“Of Lady Margery?” Felix asked Andrew who nodded solemnly.

“Seems like it, is that her name?”

“I’m sitting right here,” you grumbled, turning to glare at Andrew who rolled his eyes at you.

“You were a scrawny little thing when I first met you, that glare doesn’t work on me.”

“You might be the only person in the ton who doesn’t get intimidated by her.” Felix pointed out and Andrew chuckled.

“I built up an immunity.”

“Great, I’m still waiting for that day.”

“Oh you need to put in years before that happens.”

You shook your head slightly and kept your gaze on the book.

“Who is Lady Margery?” Andrew asked Felix who took a deep breath.

“She’s a very wealthy widow,” he said. “A lover of arts and the last I heard, she likes Benedict’s works.”

“Where did she see his works?” You couldn’t help but ask and Felix shrugged.

“At a party, I’m told,” he said. “Either that or Henry showed her.”

“Benedict is in love with you though, don’t feel threatened.”

“I do not feel threatened by her,” you deadpanned, still trying to ignore that burning in your throat. “A lot of people admire Benedict’s works.”

“Not all of them look like that though,” Andrew mused and you narrowed your eyes at him. “Not as pretty as you, obviously!”

You huffed out and closed your book as soon as you caught the sight of Josie and Bess. “I’ll get some fresh air.”

“We’re sitting outside, Y/N.”

“Fine, then I’ll go and join Bess and Josie,” you said. “They’re over there.”

“Clover—”

“I’m fine,” you said as you stood up, painfully aware of Benedict’s gaze immediately turning to you. “Really. I just need to stretch my legs, I’ve been sitting here for way too long.”

You walked away from them, ignoring the way Benedict’s eyes were following you as you passed through the garden to make your way to Bess and Josie.

                                                   *

The dinner was quiet at first and you weren’t particularly hungry, so you kept playing with the food on your plate, pushing at it with your fork, trying your hardest not to look at Benedict even if you could feel him stealing looks at you.

He took a deep breath when you pushed at your plate, ready to retrieve to your bedroom but before you could stand up, he cleared his throat.

“Y/N?”

You looked up at him. “Hm?”

“I was going to tell you,” he said. “My mother invited us for dinner this weekend.”

“Oh?” you said. “Sure. What brought that on?”

He grimaced, making you bite back a smile.

“She wants the family to have dinner with Charlie’s family,” he muttered. “Which would have been fine if it were for any reason other than…you know.”

“Lottie and Anthony courting?”

He let out a noise of discontent and nodded his head. “That.”

“Will you be alright?” you asked. “During that dinner?”

He thought for a moment.

“…Uh huh.”

You raised your brows. “Very convincing.”

“It’s just—” he motioned with his hand. “Charlie and him?”

“It’s been almost a week since they started courting each other, how are you still so shocked about this?”

“Neither of them told me.”

“I wonder how that feels,” you pointed out and he scrunched up his nose, making you bite down on your lip.

“Walked right into that one.”

“Kind of like walking into a duel,” you mused and he nodded.

“Mm hm, kind of like that,” he said and his head shot up. “Which reminds me, I have something for you.”

You pulled your brows together in confusion.

“What?” you asked as he got up from his chair to come closer to you, then pulled the chair near you to sit down. He reached into the inner pocket of his waistcoat, then pulled out a tiny bag to put it on the table, making your frown deeper.  

“What is this?”

“It’s a gift,” he said, crossing his arms over the table so that you would see he wouldn’t pull the gift out of your reach. “Along with my heartfelt apologies and promise to not keep things from you.”

You stole a look at him, then slowly reached out to take the small bag. You untied it and turned it over, then blinked a couple of times when you saw the tiny seeds falling into your palm.

“Benedict—?”

“Geranium seeds,” Benedict said. “I figured maybe you’d want to plant them.”

Your eyes found his, your heart skipping a beat.

“And I’ve been told geraniums represent foolishness,” he added with a small grin. “Considering my actions of late…”

A small giggle escaped from your lips and you ran your fingertip over the seeds.

“But I haven’t been gardening lately.”

“I know,” he said. “They can grow in a vase as well, did you know that?”

Your jaw dropped, a laughter climbing up your throat.

“Wow, really?”

“Mm hm,” he said, that proud smile playing on his lips before his gaze turned soft. “So until you want to put it in the garden, it can be in your room in a vase. If that’ll be more comfortable for you.”

He was giving you a way to garden and making sure you knew he couldn’t take it from you.

That familiar warmth spread through your chest as you put the seeds back into the small bag, and carefully tied it up before turning to look at him.

“Thank you,” you managed to say, “Really, Benedict. It means a lot.”

He shot you that lopsided grin and you held up your pinky.

“Truce?”

He raised his brows, then hooked his pinky with yours.

“Truce,” he said, tugging at your finger with his before pulling his hand back. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Who told you where to get geranium seeds?”

“Lady Margery,” he said, making you raise your brows but he looked nearly oblivious to your reaction. “You two have a lot in common, she likes flowers as well. She was telling me about it today—she also has a garden, apparently. Invited us for dinner whenever we’re available.”

“Did she now?” you asked, trying to ignore that bitterness in your throat. “Interesting.”

“You would get along well with her I think.”

“I doubt that,” you murmured and he tilted his head.

“Why?”

“Just a feeling,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders, and cleared your throat. “Speaking of gardens, I think I want to take a walk in ours and get some fresh air before bed.”

“Oh,” he said. “Alright. Do you—?”

You shook your head and pushed your chair back to stand up. “No worries. I’ll just walk around, that’s all. It’ll help me sleep better.”

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll see you later then?”

“Mm hm, enjoy your meal!” you said and walked out of the dining room, still holding the small bag tight in your hand, a smile curling your lips once again.

                                              *

The interesting thing about your nightmares was that they had changed quite a bit after you had found out that Benedict had gone on a duel. Contrary to before, now your night terrors were about his death, getting shot in the duel, bleeding out in that field—

A gasp got caught in your throat as your eyes snapped open into the dark room, and you blinked a couple of times before wiping up the cold sweat off your forehead, realizing just how freezing the room was. Contrary to the pleasant weather from earlier, the warmth was replaced by the cold as soon as the night fell, and not only you had told the maids they didn’t have to start a fire in the fireplace, you had also left the window open as you went to bed.

You pushed the covers off of you and got up from the bed, now realizing you had no idea where the matches were because you hadn’t had to do anything related to fireplace ever since you had moved into this house. The familiar ache in your wrist that came back whenever it was cold made you grimace and you closed the window, rubbing at your arms. You thought for a moment, then walked to the door to peek your head out, the faint light at the end of the hallway catching your attention immediately.

Benedict’s studio.

Well, that room had to be warm.

You lingered at your doorstep only for a moment before you left your room, then made your way down the hallway to reach the studio to find Benedict sketching by the fireplace. Your heart skipped a beat at how effortlessly handsome he looked, and you knocked on the doorframe, making his head shoot up.

“Y/N?”

“Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all, come in,” he said, motioning at the other armchair across from the fireplace and you smiled at him, then sat down on the armchair.

“Nightmares again?”

You stole a look at him, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Just cold,” you said, holding out your wrist so that you could feel the warmth of the flames in the fireplace just so that the throbbing would ease a little. Benedict’s gaze fell on you as you turned your wrist, clenching and unclenching your hands. “What are you drawing?”

“Hm? Oh—” Benedict snapped out of his thoughts and looked down at the sketchbook before looking up at you. “Just some practice, that’s all.”

“Can I see it?”

He thought for a moment, then made a face. “You don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s you.”

You raised your brows, your stomach doing a happy flip.

“The sketch?”

He nodded his head and you arched a brow.

“I don’t want to see it or you don’t want me to want to see it?” you asked and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m not sure it’s good.”

“Can I be the judge of that?”

“Will you spare my feelings?”

“Absolutely, because I walk around sparing people’s feelings,” you retorted, holding out your hand. “Come on.”

He heaved a sigh, then handed you the sketchbook, making you giggle before you turned your gaze to the page.

Oh.

The sketch was so beautiful that for a moment you couldn’t help but stare at it, your mouth slightly open. It was a sketch of you from today, when you were sitting under the tree with a book in your lap, surrounded by beautiful flowers-

When you thought he was busy with Lady Margery.

Benedict’s voice pulled you out of your daze; “It’s that terrible huh?”

You looked up at him in disbelief, then shook your head.

“I was thinking the opposite actually,” you managed to say, turning your glances to the page again. “It’s just…”

“Tell me,” he said when you fell quiet and you licked your lips, then shook your head again.

“You drew me prettier than I actually am,” you mumbled, still admiring the sketch in front of you but you saw him tilt his head out of the corner of your eye.

“What?”

You shot him a small smile, then handed him the sketchbook back.

“It’s beautiful,” you said. “Too beautiful.”

Benedict let out a small chuckle, his gaze soft on you.

“Nothing I draw or paint comes close to how beautiful you are, you do realize that?” he asked, a fire spreading on your face. “That’s why I keep thinking it’s not good enough. It’s nowhere near a reflection, merely a shadow.”

It felt as if your heart was trying to escape from your ribcage with how fast it was beating and you felt a smile warm your face, then shot him a look.

“Well then I’m afraid I have no criticism for you,” you said, making him clutch at his chest.

“Oh no.”

“Mm hm,” you said. “Just what every artist hates. No criticism, only admiration.”

“You have no idea,” he played along and you giggled, holding your wrist closer to the fireplace again to feel the warmth on your skin, even in your bones. He watched you in silence for a couple of seconds, then took a deep breath.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not normally but cold makes it ache,” you said. “It should go away soon.”

“How did you break it?”

Your stomach did a painful flip and you bit inside your cheek, pursing your lips.

“That’s not important information,” you said, your voice completely flat and he paused for a moment, then nodded.

“Still don’t trust me huh?” he said with a small smile as you pulled your gaze off the fire to steal a look at him.

“Benedict—”

“It’s alright,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

A silence fell upon you both and you could feel the nervousness filling your system, but you managed to ignore it as you cleared your throat.

“It wasn’t…” you trailed off. “Peaceful. Back home, before my uncle took me in.”

He pulled his brows together in confusion as if he couldn’t understand how it was relevant and you turned your wrist again, still holding it to the fireplace.

“My parents were very different than yours, or my uncle and aunt,” the words left your lips very easily. “We could never tell when it was going to get bad because most of the time there wasn’t even an actual reason behind it, my father was always angry and my mother wasn’t any better than him, they just had different ways of discipline and punishment.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him pulling back but you didn’t turn to look at him, keeping your eyes on the fireplace.

“Josie got the worst of it, mostly,” you muttered. “She always got in the way to protect me no matter what and like I said, they had different ways, my mother would mostly just slap us or push us around, but my father…” You let out a bitter laugh. “My father was the type of person who would only stop beating the hell out of you when he decided it was enough, regardless of how much you cried—not that Josie ever really cried. I used to, but I learned to stop myself after a while.”

The memory hit you and you shook your head slightly, trying to focus.

“Anyway, there was this one time he got really mad at Josie and he was drunk, and in all that pushing and pulling this bottle got broken, and he had this…this idea to cut her hand with it so that she would ‘learn some respect’,” you quoted him, the words giving you goosebumps even now. “But my mother stopped him, saying it would ruin Josie’s chances to get married if he left any actual scars that her potential suitors could see, making her—what was the term?” you asked more to yourself and scoffed. “Damaged goods, she said.”

Benedict could only stare at you in silence.

“I was very young when it happened, so in my mind I figured that if I had an actual scar, then no one would want to marry me and no one could put me through what my father put my mother through,” you said. “But the problem was that I didn’t have any, so that night after everyone went to bed, I went to the kitchen to give myself one.”

The crackles of the wood in the fireplace echoed through the room, making you heave a sigh.

“I couldn’t really do it though, because it hurt way worse than I thought it would,” you added. “I stopped before I could push the knife deeper or drag it down, but my mother walked in the kitchen and saw me doing that.”

You could feel the tears burning your eyes and you blinked a couple of times to push them back.

“I begged her not to tell my father but of course she did, and father was absolutely furious,” you said. “He yelled at me, then shoved me headfirst into the wall and I hit my head very hard. And the thing about hitting your head is that you can’t really find your balance when it happens, so I tripped backwards and fell right on my wrist.”

For a second, the only thing you could hear was the burning wood and you shrugged your shoulders, then retrieved your hand and turned to look at him.

“That’s how I broke it.”

He looked nearly frozen, staring at you in complete silence as he blinked a couple of times like he was trying to wrap his mind around what you had told him. He gritted his teeth, that fire coming to life in his eyes and he opened his mouth but you stopped him before he could say anything.

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” you said, shaking your head. “I don’t need anyone to do that, I hate that nonsense. I’m fine, that’s not why I…”

You trailed off for a moment before you took a deep breath, your eyes locking in his.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust you Ben,” you rasped out, then offered him a small smile and got up from the chair. “That’s the moral of this story.”

“Y/N—”

“Good luck with your sketches,” you said, nodding at the notebook in his lap. “Being immortalized sounds rather lovely now to think of it. Keep drawing me prettier than I am, will you?”

With that, you walked out of the room, your heart still beating in your ears. 

Chapter 25

[tw1l1te]

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼- 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 2

Part 2!! This will include Hyrule, Four, and Legend ₍ᐢᐢ₎

Warnings: mention of scars and negative mental health

Please read with the warnings in mind, this one is heavier in terms of mental health topics.

⋆｡°✩

𝕳𝖞𝖗𝖚𝖑𝖊

About 18/19, a couple years after his journey is done

Average height, his build is still toned but more on the leaner side because of height and anatomy

light freckles across his cheeks/nose and skin is tanner than the rest of the boys

Has 2 small cartilidge piercings, small silver hoops

Part fae, I know a few others headcanon him as fae too I just think it suits his character

Speaks and writes Hylian well, takes a bit longer to read though (he's trying his best)

Closer to Legend, they're the downfall duo :3, but also close to Sky

I wanna say he's like one of the last few boys to feel attraction towards Y/n. Fae bonding to humans is weird and Hyrule doesn't wanna freak you out and needs to really process it.

When he realizes he fell for you? Oh boy. Definitely more clingy and obsessive and frets over your safety, more than Sky even.

Major sweet tooth, favorite food has go to be spoonfuls of honey

Keeps a journal, lots of sketches and notes on herbs and flora and some thoughts on Y/n

Has a.... difficult relationship with Hylia/Zelda/the Goddess

Knows about some of Legend's past, not as much as Y/n though

Has a large scar on his lower stomach from Dark Link, and faded white scratches on his back from a past incident that I may or may not bring up later down the line

Do not let him near a cooking pot. Don't do it.

𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗

Our favorite smithy is about 18-19

He may be short, but don't let his height fool you. Mr. swordmaker here is built. You think all the hours hammering away at metal don't build muscle? You'd be wrong

Anywayss, I headcanon Four as having heterochromia, one eye green and the other a dark blue.

Has the lightest stubble, hardly noticeable because he shaves it everyday

Recently has also started tying up his hair in a pony tail, so he honestly looks like a younger Time from far away

Has lots of ear piercings and stacks rings on his fingers, most of which he made himself from spare parts. He made a few rings for Legend and Y/n

Develops feelings for Y/n slowly, though it hits him like a brick after the Yiga clan incident after realizing how close he was to losing you

Has a few scars on his hands and arms, a few burn marks from reckless accdients both in and out of the blacksmith shop

Has a tattoo of the Four Sword on his forearm

Ironically enough, close to Wild and Wind. He's keeping a tally of how many swords Wild has broken So far it's 46

Similar to Wild, he kinda has shaggier hair, though its only really visible when his hair is fully down without the headband

REALLY GOOD AT SHIELD SURFING FOR SOME REASON-

𝖑𝖊𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖉

19, slightly older than Four and Hyrule

Average height, leaner build, and I wanna say he's on the paler side. He gets sunburned crazy fast like no amount of suscreen can save him

Pink hair, duh, but its more faded than it was when he first shifted into his rabbit form. It's more like leftover on his bangs and on part of his head.

Pinky is decked out in rings, every single finger is stacked with rings for functionality, protection, etc., but some he just thinks are neat.

Double pierced lobes, a few cartilidge piercings, maybe even a Hylian-equivalent of an industrial and has a dick piercing shh

Does not like wearing pants. no sir. Only if absolutely necessary.

Can speak/write Hylian and Lorulean pretty well, though pretty rusty on the latter because he hasn't used or read it much since his adventures

Like the 4th person to develop feelings for our protagonist, he's a little lost to be completely honest. Part of him wants to succumb to his feelings, the other is terrified of losing someone again

Close to Hyrule, Wild, and Wars ironically enough (mostly because of the bickering :D)

Keeps a scrap of Ravio's scarf in his bag, holds it sometimes.

Has a deep long scar along his forearm from a fight, some burn marks from the fire rod. He also has other scars that he doesn't show or discuss, those are difficult to talk about. He wasn't in a good place after.... everything.

Snarky and grumpy, but he softens up around people he trusts. He just needs time and love ₍ᐢᐢ₎

[comicaurora]

Out of curiosity, how far ahead are you on the comic? I mean, you must have it all planned and written out, but I imagine that you are drawing the future of Aurora even while we're reading it.

So is Arc 2 already illustrated and ready for upload while you're on like Arc 5 or something? I'm by no means undermining your need for a break; I'm shocked that you've been uploading continuously for over 4 years at this point. I'm just interested to know how long it takes a person to make something this great. And also if you change any details in the final edit?

Basically: what's the workflow like?

Also I think you low-key inspired me to pick up painting as a hobby. I'm ready to pour so much money into creating things that I know I'll hate. :)

God, arc 5? That's a very generous assessment of how fast I can draw!

Typically, when the comic is updating regularly, I keep a buffer of 10 to 20 completed pages. Right now, in the interest of taking a break, the buffer is 0 completed pages.

Chapter 1 of Arc 2 is completely storyboarded, meaning it's sketched out, the dialog is all mostly finalized barring last-minute rephrasements, etc. It can be read in its current form, it just looks unpretty. In fact, just for fun, here's a sneak peek!

In the next month I'll go through and finalize as many pages from this chapter as possible - which means locking down the panel borders, fleshing out the backgrounds, lining, shading, coloring, polish, etc. - which will be the process of building up a new buffer for when the comic starts back up again in January. During that time, I'll also be storyboarding Chapter 2 and as much of the following parts as I can manage.

I have the next several chapters and sub-arcs planned out in loose timelines - event A happens at location B leading to consequences C and D, stuff like that. Chapter 2, being the closest, is a little more fleshed-out, with a more detailed bullet-pointed timeline and various character ideas I've had that might or might not make it into the final version.

What exactly the chapter breakdown is going to look like is a little more complicated. Initially I'd planned for Chapter 1 to be low-stakes downtime and Chapter 2 to quickly kick off the high-octane adventure again, but when I started bullet-pointing out the stuff I wanted to do in Chapter 2, I ended up with a big pile of slower-paced character moments I thought were well worth exploring, so the runtimes might stretch a little.

Translating those brainstormed notes into storyboards and dialog is what I would classify as the "writing" part of this process. It happens at an erratic pace largely determined by the whims of whatever muse decides to get me in a headlock that day; sometimes I go weeks with no storyboarding progress, sometimes I hammer out fifteen pages in one day.

It's kinda like weaving, to me. The soon-to-be-arriving parts of the story are the most finalized, the most densely woven. A little ways beyond that, things get looser - some patterns may be locked down, but the actual work that'll hold it together hasn't been done yet. And in the far-flung future arcs, it's just the basic bones of the story and a pile of the threads I've planned to use. I know the shape of it, but in order for it to be fun and engaging for me to make it, I need to give myself room to be creative when I'm putting the whole thing together.

I actually have a file called the "Toolbox" that contains every random character or subplot idea I've had, and sometimes when I'm debating where to go with a chunk of story, I'll crack it open and scan through to see if anything jumps out begging to be used. Lotta fun stuff in there that may or may not ever see the light of day. Dropping stuff in the Toolbox is one of the most fun and freeing parts of the process for me!

[imaginedanvrs]

my demon gave me everything

part 5 l masterlist

summary: dark!natasha romanoff x reader. Natasha Romanoff saves the world. Morals, lifestyle and past aside, the fact is that she puts her life on the line for everyone else. And for this, she believes she’s owed something. She saves billions of lives on the regular, so why not take the occasional one for herself?

word count: 3.3k

warnings: established kidnapping, abuse, power dynamics, strap on sex, breathe play, degrading, manipulation, hints of stockholm syndrone

“Fuck,” Natasha grunted, voice raspy from the pleasure you were able to give her. “Keep that pretty mouth there.” She ordered as her hand gripped your hair tighter and forced you to stay put with her cock touching the back of your throat. You looked up at the assassin with watery eyes, a sight that only drove her to buck her hips up more and make you choke. She let up at that and was  kind enough to give you a few seconds to gather more air into your lungs before she was forcing you back onto the toy. 

  That time, you took your time in licking the underside of the toy and humming around it. The redhead was feeling generous that day and brought out your favourite strap, the one that filled you up just enough without giving you too much of an uncomfortable ache. Natasha’s breathing picked up again at the visual, of course not being able to actually feel it but loving the sight nonetheless. Her throaty moan of approval made you throb and you brought your mouth down to the base to apply some light pressure to her clit.

  Natasha never let you touch her, so times like that were your only opportunity to make her feel even remotely as good as she made you feel. She had never let you continue for long enough to make her cum, something she only did in the security of her rooms upstairs as she pictured those very scenes. Though when she saw how into it you were getting, she gripped the back of your head and forced you down to the base without letting up. You squirmed between her legs and scratched at her thighs but she only grinned down at the sight of your defiance. 

  “Fight a little harder, detka, you can do it,” she cooed condescendingly as you struggled in her grasp. You looked up at the redhead, pleading and wide eyes and wholly desperate for some relief. She let you off and slapped you for not fighting hard enough. You almost toppled to the floor but Natasha’s thighs held you upright enough and she was hauling you onto the sofa with her within a second anyway. 

  “I love seeing you cry around me,” Natasha breathed heavily as she pulled your underwear down and nestled between your legs. You were too disorientated at first to register either until she pushed the head of her strap against your cunt. “You always look so pathetic,” she smiled and thrust the toy inside without another word. Natasha was never gentle when she fucked you. She was rough and careless and only seemed to strive to make you feel worthless. Despite yourself, you cherished every second. Even if you didn’t think you wanted it, Natasha soon showed you otherwise and had you putty in her hands before you could think too hard about it. 

  That was how it was every day, though things grew lonely quickly. You were never much of a social person, in fact, you had labelled yourself a house mouse to numerous people proudly. In all honesty that was partly down to you not feeling like you fit in anywhere or not being comfortable around enough people to ask them if they wanted to hang out and so over time you found yourself  enjoying your own company more often than not. But you got lonely a lot. You craved company and just didn’t know how to obtain it. So in a sense, it was no surprise that in a matter of a few days the isolation got to you, especially as Natasha wasn’t the best company. 

  You found yourself falling into a routine with the Russian. You would wake up without her and spend the majority of the day sketching, (finding your pencil freshly sharpened each morning), staring out at the city, missing your home until your head started to hurt from crying, then finally waiting for Natasha to come back. Sometimes she was just upstairs but stayed there for the same duration of time. Then the evening would arrive and she would bring you some dinner or make some and sit in silence on the sofa for several hours before fucking you however and where ever she pleased. That was the only time she truly acknowledged you. When she didn’t have her hands on you, she wouldn’t even answer you when you talked to her. It drove you up the wall at first but now it was starting to ache as the loneliness set in. Consequently, you craved the sex because it was the only time you didn’t feel so alone. You still hated Natasha. A lot. 

  You spent a lot of your time thinking of all the ways you could hurt her. Not even necessarily to escape, just to be a painful inconvenience. You thought of hiding in cupboards and jumping out at her with a knife to stick her gut. You thought of splashing boiling water in her face. You thought of smashing up all her plates and glasses just for the sake of making her have to buy new ones. You doubted it would cause her any financial distress, but it would be annoying. However you never had the nerve to attempt a follow through of any of those ideas, knowing the torment it could cause you in return. 

  Sometimes you wondered if it would be best just to stop fighting all together. To let go of your hatred for the redhead and let yourself succumb to loneliness. But you were always swift to remind yourself that thats’s not what Natasha deserves. She doesn’t get to have you give in so soon. Because you did not want to be there. You wanted to go home to your small apartment, not live with an Avenger in a condo. 

  On one of those days, Natasha still wasn’t home by the time the sun had long since submerged itself beneath the city and the sky was darkening. When specks of white were caught in the black net, the redhead still showed no signs of returning and you considered two possibilities. One, that she had been injured on a mission and that you could be dead by the time she gets back. Or two, that it was some twisted test on you to see exactly how you’d fend for myself when Natasha wasn’t around. 

  Eventually, you laid down on the sofa so that you were facing the door at the top of the stairs. You stared at it for several minutes as you considered the two possibilities and let your mind tunnel down both rabbit holes before eventually succumbing to the exhaustion of what they could both entail. Neither good, but were they still better than Natasha returning home before they could play themselves out?

  It was 2am when Natasha finally arrived home. You were fast asleep on the sofa where you had been for hours when she strolled down the stairs. The redhead knew how long you had been there because she had been examining the camera logs on her return flight from the mission, yet she was still mildly surprised to find you still there and even more so that you didn’t stir to the sound of her boots hitting each step with a heavy thud. You were both tired. 

  Natasha crouched down in front of you, watching as you slept soundly amongst her blankets. She knew you had trouble sleeping, between being in a new environment, not having your stuffies and being uncomfortable next to her, but clearly the exhaustion had finally won. The Russian gently moved the hair away from your face so she could see you better and wondered if the weariness was going to bring your breaking point closer. Natasha knew you were lonely and that it was making you crave the sex, but your hatred was still there, a contrast she saw in a few women but not to such an extent. It seemed you were stuck in the vortex of your own turmoil and consequently made it harder for Natasha to seek any answers on just how much longer you would be in that apartment. You had only been there a couple weeks but if you arrived at the point where the Russian were to kick me out in a few days, you still would have been there longer than a couple. Then again, perhaps it would go the other way and you would persevere for a couple more months and make it longer than anyone. The longest stay was two months and four days. 

  Natasha placed her slightly roughened hand against your cheek and let her thumb graze over the small scratch under your eye where the spy had caught her nail ‘accidentally’ on you the last time she slapped you. She smiled at the look of shock you had everytime she did it, as though you couldn’t believe it would happen again. Natasha’s smile broadened when she remembered how wet you got as well. 

  The redhead’s gaze focused when you showed signs of waking up, the slight furrow in your brown and your eyes moving beneath your eyelids and as you shifted, you leaned into Natasha’s touch with a content hum. The spy smirked at that and rubbed her thumb gently in a circular motion that made you smile sleepily, chasing the foreign feeling of tenderness. You allowed your eyes to flicker open and meet the older woman’s but it was only after several moments of slow processing that you realised what you were doing and shot back against the sofa away from the redhead with a scowl. She chuckled at your antics and her smugness made you want to hit her. 

  “Come to bed, detka,” Natasha called as she strolled away, still chuckling to herself. You cursed internally and tried to ignore how the warmth of Natasha’s touch was still lingering on your cheek. You hadn’t felt such warmth before, not from anyone. You had always hoped you would feel it from a girl you loved someday, from someone who made the butterflies in your stomach cheer with glee, not try to hide. 

  You followed Natasha through to the bedroom where she had already stripped down to just her shirt and slipped into bed beside her, already anticipating however she was going to touch you that night and certainly not expecting it to be the way it was. The redhead immediately wrapped her arms around you and pulled you against her chest where she held you close. You tensed, awaiting her next move that never came. Instead, Natasha continued to hold you until her breathing steadied enough for you to wonder if she had fallen asleep. 

  It was just like the first night when she held you. But that had been after sex and she hadn’t held you since, leaving you to wonder what she was doing. Perhaps she was merely too tired to do anything else, you gathered that it was late although you still had no access to anything that told you the time. 

  You tried to relax in her hold as hypothetically it should have eased your loneliness, but you felt suffocated. It was too much. She was too close and holding you too tight and you didn’t know how to adapt to the change in routine, so you lay there wide awake for a long time. It was then that you started wondering what exactly it was that Natasha was looking for in having you living with her. 

  She treated you like a prisoner, not letting you leave, not giving you access to the outside world, only being able to eat and drink what she provided and not having your own clothes. Not to mention the power scales. And yet part of you wondered if she was just as lonely as you were and that she merely wanted a companion. She wasn’t soft with you and didn’t seem to even really like you all that much, but there she was holding you as she slept. You had no idea what it was that Natasha was striving to find, and you weren’t convinced she knew herself. 

*

"Want a pb&j, detka?” Natasha asked from the kitchen. You could have laughed at that, surprised that such a ruthless and deadly assassin enjoyed such a snack.

  “I’m allergic,” you called back from the sofa where you sat reading one of the novels the redhead had leant you after you finally worked up the nerve to ask. The drawing became tedious when it was all you did for eight to ten hours a day. 

  “To what?” Natasha replied without a beat, staring into the back of your head with a frown. She had your medical records and there was nothing about any food allergies. There was no way she would miss that and it unsettled the redhead that there was something like that she didn’t know. She was meant to know everything.

  “Peanut butter,” you said simply without looking back. “Well at least I think I am. I had a weird little reaction once but I never got tested because I didn’t like it anyway,” you explained as Natasha came over to the sofa and placed a cup of tea down in front of you instead. 

  “We better get that sorted then,” she muttered, intending to get a test kit as soon as she could to answer that question. You shrugged in vague agreement, not feeling the pressing need like the redhead did.

  Things had shifted in the atmosphere of the apartment after the night Natasha held you as she fell asleep. For one thing, you were able to fall asleep swiftly and stay asleep, as though the redhead’s hold was enough to keep you from unwanted consciousness. You didn’t want to believe that that was the cause of the end of your insomnia, but when Natasha did the same thing night after night and the same effect happened, you knew there was no point denying it to yourself. You never revealed this discovery to the Russian though you had wondered if she had noticed herself. 

  Though it wasn’t just during the night that things had made a gradual change. While still tense, it felt as though there was a touch less hostility with every passing moment, as though you didn’t have to be constantly on edge. You still knew that if you tried anything with Natasha all of that would fly out the window, especially as the redhead was no less rough when she fucked you and continued to make it clear that she didn’t give a second thought to hurting you, but the rest of the time she seemed…pleasant. 

  You were still scared of the Avenger. You also still hated her, though maybe hate had become too strong a word. Your desire to go home remained strong, especially when the redhead was in a bad mood, and you knew Natasha wasn’t about to let you go anytime soon, a fact you continued to shed a tear about when you were in the shower. It didn’t help that she had started watching you a lot too. You could feel her eyes burning into your back more often than not, as though she was still waiting for you to make some sudden attempt at escape and you never knew how to act under her intense gaze. 

  However, sometimes you woke up with her still laying next to you and you found it to be something you appreciated. It made you feel less alone. She started talking to you as well throughout the day, just the odd comment here and there about anything from when she was going out to and her occasional enquiry about your life, though you always dismissed those questions. She still didn’t get you a clock but if you asked what the time was she would tell you. A couple times you had asked for the TV on but she continued to deny you that until the third try. 

  You watched as Natasha pressed a few buttons and fiddled around with the back of the screen before it flickered to life and the news started playing. You could feel the redhead’s eyes on you as you sat back and turned the volume up so you could hear the presenter's voice clearly. You didn’t want to miss anything, wondering if perhaps there was even the slightest chance you would be there. People had to know you were missing. It had been…well I wasn’t sure exactly how long but it was definitely long enough to be declared missing surely. 

  The news went on for an hour, covering stories from all over the world with countless kinds of issues being mentioned, but you weren’t one of them. You knew that that would be the case, the Avengers would never let any awareness be brought to your disappearance when it was connected so closely to one of their own, but you couldn’t help but hope. Natasha Romanoff was untouchable and you were nothing. 

 You wondered how many people actually knew you were missing or if they had been given a story about you moving back to England early or even dying. Either way, it was being kept on the downlow. No one was looking for you. 

  You turned the screen off when the channel changed to some reality show you didn’t recognise, you weren’t in the mood for reality. Instead, you tucked your feet up on the sofa and stared up at the ceiling, dwelling in your feelings of emptiness until Natasha’s hand slipped around your back and pulled you to her to rest your head on her shoulder. You didn’t protest, instead closing your eyes and imagining you were somewhere else with someone else who was doing the same thing. 

  “Don’t worry about the rest of the world, malysh. This is where you’re meant to be,” Natasha cooed with a kiss to your head. For some reason, you didn’t feel entirely shit about that. And you think the spy knew that.

  While Natasha could tell you still weren’t exactly her biggest fan, she was able to see that the hatred had started to weaken into plain dislike. She had known before she had taken you that you weren’t the kind of person who was able to hold onto such bitter feelings, even under such testing circumstances. It had certainly helped that Natasha was giving you what you had secretly been craving for as long as you could remember: a woman’s touch. Granted it wasn’t in a context you ever could have foreseen, but it was something. 

  For Natasha, it wasn’t enough yet. Refraining from you unless it was to fuck you had certainly pushed things along, but the redhead had grown bored or the same routine and wanted to try something else. There were many games Natasha had up her sleeve that she could play and some of them she was just itching to try. She had made your body betray you but your mind needed something different, something to help lul it into a false sense of security, so she had been pleasant and watched, giving you the attention you had desired but didn’t have any clue what to do with when you finally got it. 

  You were still weary of the redhead, but not as weary as you wanted to be. You were fully aware of how your walls were starting to crack and you couldn’t seem to do anything to stop it. Which led Natasha to ponder the same question as you were, how badly did you really want to leave? So the redhead went about setting up the same test she had pulled numerous times in the past that had always provided the same results. Would you be any different? Natasha hoped so, it would be nice to have a change. 

[indigoflorals]

needles (18+)

rafe cameron x reader

you and your friends get tattoos on a night out. the artist takes an interest in you

warnings: public oral sex(f), public fingering, sexual tension, tattoos, very slight latex fetish (gloves)

a/n: i live! haha anyway no i’ve just been busy and struggling with my mental health a little. i’m SO happy to put this out for you guys because i’ve been working on it for weeks. i hope you all love it im so happy to post and be back for my community <3 i missed everyone SO much

Alcohol warmed your chest as your pulled your jacket closed. The wind whipped around you, and the December air stung against your skin. It was dark, and there was a thick layer of fog hovering over the ground. The undesirable weather didn’t stop the business of your city on a Friday night, though. Bars were crowded and you had visited multiple places on birthday night out.

You heard your friend gasp from your right on the sidewalk, “Babe!” she cheered, pointing to a neon sign reading Tattoos. You followed her lead as she opened the door to the small shop, stepping inside onto the checked floor. There were sketches hung around the walls, all in different styles seemingly done by multiple different artists.

“We so have to get matched tattoos,” Your friend giggled, leaning onto the counter to flip through a sketch book. You ignored her remark, stepping around the corner to see a different design. A tiger. It was traditional, yet clearly had a lot of the artists personal touch. You leaned in to get a better look at the line work.

“Like what you see?” A voice spoke from behind you. You turned to see a tall, blond man. He was muscular, and covered in tattoos many of which that were seemingly self done. He was handsome, and you blushed at his forwardness.

You pointed back to the tiger, “This is your work?”

He nodded, “It’s old, but yes.” He stepped to stand beside you, taking the framed piece of art off of the wall. “Were you thinking of something like this?”

You exhaled, laughing slightly, “Well,” you looked back to your friend who was looking at simple designs, “It’s a girls night out. For my birthday.”

“Ahh,” He grinned, “So matching tats to commemorate?”

“You got it,” you sighed.

“Well happy birthday then, beautiful,” he winked.

Before you could respond, your friend called your name, and both you and the artist walked over to her. She smiled, twirling her hair at the sight of him. “Babe, why didn’t you introduce me to your friend?”

The artist took your friends hand, kissing it, “Rafe Cameron. What are you looking to get done today, love?” Jealousy filled you, and with it confusion. You had just met this man, and yet you wanted his attention.

Your friends face turned bright red, as she leaned into him before pointing to a design. He smiled, nodding. “Sounds good, just let me call my partner.”

He called loudly for a woman in the back, and she walked out. Rafe showed the design to his partner and turned back to your friend, “Jessica will take great care of you, love.” Your friends face dropped immediately, and she stared at you longingly as the woman led her back into a room.

“Now,” Rafe smiled, back turning to you, “Something simple for you?” He handed you a thick binder with laminated photos sliding out of the sides. You placed it onto the counter, flipping it open. Inside were more more designs, moths, some other similar bugs and skulls. Not ‘traditionally’ feminine. All fitting with your personality.

You turned to him, a blush creeping to your cheeks, “How’d you know what I’d like?”

He shrugged, leaning against the counter with you, “I like to think I’m a pretty good judge of character.” Your eyes landed on a small design of a bee, it was fuzzy looking, and all black and grey. Before you could say anything, Rafe slid the binder out from in front of you, closing it. “So the bee for you, ma’am. Where at?” He smirked.

You stuttered, unconsciously reaching for the binder, “I…I wasn’t do—“

“Again, where do you want it?” Rafe placed the binder back onto its shelf. You huffed at his indifference, a smile creeping to your lips.

“My hip.”

—

Rafe had you comfortably lied on your back in the leather chair, staring at the tiled ceiling. Your shorts were pulled down to your ankles expose your thighs and hip in the closed room. The tattoo gun buzzed against your skin, burning slightly. He was gentle with you, his opposite hand resting gloved on your bare thigh for stability.

“So,” He turned back to dip his needle in the ink, “Tell me about yourself, birthday girl.”

You blushed at his nickname, adjusting in your seat. He waited for you to get comfortable before continuing his work. “Well,” You mumbled, “It’s my twenty-first actually. I’m just not a big drinker, so my friend suggested we come here.”

“Oh,” He hummed, a smirk creeping to his lips, “A good girl. This your first tat?” You nodded, wincing as the needle hit a sensitive spot. “Sorry, baby,” He looked to you, “Need a break?”

“Yeah,” You sighed, running a hand through your hair, “Hurts less than I thought, though.” Rafe smiled, wiping the excess ink before setting the tattoo gun down, “I’m glad.”

It hit you then as he relaxed into his chair that you were sat only in your top and panties with this very attractive man. You wondered if he felt the tension. Probably not, you assumed. He probably did tattoos like this all the time.

“Sorry,” He gestured to your bare legs, “I’d offer to let you pull up your pants but it’s better if we just wait until we’re all done.”

You waved your hand, sitting up a bit, “It’s fine, really.” You looked down to see his hand still on your thigh. Your breath hitched as your chest heated up. It was stupid, he probably didn’t even realize he was doing it.

“Any other plans for your special day tonight, baby?” The hand crept further up your leg. Your eyes shot to it. “Sorry,” He hummed, not looking to you but feeling your stillness, “Just getting a closer look at my work so far.”

You felt your core throb as you readjusted in your seat, unconsciously giving him a better view of your clothed pussy. “I didn’t have any other plans.” You blushed.

“Ah,” He smirked, eyes finally meeting yours as his hand slid to your inner thigh, “Well I hope I can make your birthday special then.”

You nodded, unable to reply. There was no denying how badly you wanted him in that moment. You felt like you had to be dripping on the leather chair below you. Your face flushed as your fingers gripped the hand rest.

In the heat of the moment, you were sure Rafe felt the tension too. His eyes dropped slowly from your face to your clothed pussy, and he licked his lips at the visible wet patch. “I think I need more room to work,” he hummed, sliding his hand back around to your hip, hooking his fingers underneath your panties, “You don’t mind, do you baby?”

You shook your head, the heat in your cheeks rising still. Lifting your hips, you looked away in embarrassment as Rafe pulled your underwear off in a swift motion. From the waist down, you were bare to him now. “Look at you, baby,” he moaned, running a gloved finger through your folds, the latex cold against your skin. You shook, involuntarily rolling your hips harder into him. “Patience,” he looked up to you, smirking. He placed his thumb against your clit, rubbing it in a circular motion. You clamped your hand over your mouth to silence the moan that ripped through you. Finally.

You could hear your wetness, and you could tell Rafe was just as into it as you were. “I have to taste you,” he groaned, leaning further into you. From his place sitting at the end of the table, he was at the perfect height to eat your pussy. He leaned in so his breath ghosted against your clit. Your hips shook and your cried into your hand loudly enough for him to hear. “Gotta stay quiet for me, baby. Stay quiet and I’ll make you feel real good.”

The second his mouth made contact with your clit, you felt like you could explode. You rocked your hips desperately into his mouth, the heat of his tongue sending you over the edge almost instantly. Rafe lapped up your come like a man starved, not stopping even after you were whining. “Please,” You cried, overstimulated from your immediate orgasm, “I can’t,”

You had been too excited and things had happened too fast, but Rafe didn’t stop. His fingers, now bare prodded to your tight hole, poking inside gently. You threw your head back and he slid two inside, scissoring them as his did. You squeezed your eyes shut as he sucked your clit.

“Rafe,” You moaned as he rolled his fingers against your g-spot. He was relentless, desperate to rip orgasm after orgasm from you. Your legs shook as your thighs cupped his ears. “Gonna come,” You whined, feeling a tightness in your belly. Before you knew it, relaxation flooded your system and you sunk into the chair. Rafe huffed into your pussy before leaning back into his stool.

“Holy shit,” he smirked, wiping his chin which was dripping with yoke fluid, “You squirted.”

You sat up in shock, “No, I did not. I don’t do that.”

Rafe ran a fingers up your slit, and you whined involuntarily. He smirked, your liquids pooling on his finger, “Then what’s this?”

You groaned, leaning back into the chair to avoid him, “Just finish my tattoo please.”

“Oh,” he laughed, “That’s been done.”

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[rollinouttahere-writes]

So. It's kinda random but what if Platonic Yandere! Strawhats with Y/n who is an artist? And maybe one day they saw how Y/n drew one of them but doesn't want to show any?

Let me see!

Yandere Straw Hats x GN!Reader

1.4k words

It was rare to get any time to yourself around here. Ever since you got mixed in with the Strawhat Crew, you felt like you always had someone attached to your hip or hovering over your shoulder. This made indulging in your personal hobbies difficult. Granted, it’s not like any of them would stop you from doing it, but you wanted to keep at least one thing for yourself.

Today was one of those instances where you were actually being left alone. You’re not sure how it happened this time. Maybe they all thought you were already spending time with someone else. Whatever, you’re not about to waste these precious moments pondering it.

Quietly slipping into your room, you pull your sketchbook and utensils out of their hiding spot. You curled up in your bed and flipped through the book until you found a blank page. Twirling the pencil between your fingers, you contemplate what to draw.

Despite your.. Complicated relationship with the crew, you couldn’t help but be inspired by them. Well, artistically speaking at least. They were constantly doing all these incredible feats and looking cool as hell while doing it. That, and it’s not like you saw much else besides them anyways.

After mulling it over, you start sketching, having decided on drawing Luffy today. He was an incredibly fun person to draw, what with his admittedly adorable baby face and his cartoonish anatomy. 

It didn’t take long for you to really get into the zone and be only focused on putting new lines onto the sheet of paper. You’re so focused that you don’t hear the door to your room open, nor the sound of sandals slapping across the floor until it’s too late.

“(Y/N)! Why are you hiding in here, I’ve been looking for you!” Luffy giddily rushed towards your bed and threw himself onto it, and subsequently you.

Frantically, you try to hide the sketch book under the covers, but he already saw it. Perking up, he tries snatching it out of your hand, “C’mon, why are you reading a book when you could be playing with me?!” 

Yes! You might be able to get out of this yet. If he thinks it’s a book, he definitely won’t try to read it and discover what it really is. “I like reading, Luffy. I just want to curl up with a good book once in a while,” as you’re saying this, you narrowly avoid letting it fall into his grabby hands, and slip it underneath yourself to sit on it.

He pouts and rests his face on his hands, still focused on the book, “Is it really that good that you want to read it more than hang out with me?”

You cringe a bit at how pointed the question was. There was no good answer here. Either you say no and he’ll immediately drag you off, or you say yes and run the risk of hurting his feelings. Then you’ll have to deal with a temper tantrum from him, and being admonished by the rest of the crew for being mean. “It’s not about it being better than hanging out with you, I can like doing more things you know.”

Luffy huffs at your indirect answer and begins tugging on the book again, “What’s it’s even about then?”

Oh shit. Um. Hm. Now you need to improvise. “It’s about,” you dart your eyes around looking for any inspiration to help you out. You’re in a plain room on a boat in the middle of the ocean, and of course the plot of literally every book you’ve ever read has completely vacated your brain.

You were apparently taking too long to tell him, so he just ripped it out from under you to investigate himself. “It can’t be that good if it’s that hard to explain. Why would you-” Luffy’s sentence died on his tongue as he opens it, right onto a picture of himself.

Panicking, you launch yourself onto his back in a desperate attempt to confiscate it, but he simply stretches his arms to keep it out of reach.

“This is awesome! Why didn’t you tell me you could draw so good?” Much to your chagrin, he starts flipping through it, now seeing sketches of the other members, too.

“Luffy! Give that back! I didn’t say you could look at that!” Blood rushed to your face from the embarrassment of being caught.

He peers over his shoulder at you, looking bewildered at your statement, “What’s the big deal? Don’t you want to share your talent?”

“No, I don’t! Just give it back and don’t tell anyone about it! Please!” You scrambled off the bed and leapt for the book, but he just snapped his arms back and continued the game of keep away.

You could see the gears turning in his head, trying to make sense of your words and actions. His eyes suddenly widened and he grinned as something clicked for him, “Oh I get it! You don’t know how good these are! You just need some help realizing it!” With that, he took off out of your room, sketchbook in hand.

“Get back here!” You sprinted after him, hoping you could get it back before he showed everyone, but deep down you knew it was already too late.

You were at a massive disadvantage here. Luffy was fast, especially when he had something he wasn’t supposed to. By the time you make it onto the deck, you’re horrified to see he’s already acquired an audience. Nami and Robin were seated at the table, with Sanji serving them some tea and snacks (which were currently being inhaled by Luffy while they were distracted by the book).

“You aren’t supposed to see that!” You hope that you’ll be able to get it out of Robin’s hands, but Luffy wraps one of his arms around you, leaving you immobilized at his side. Before you could beg them to please put it down, Luffy shoves a tiny cake into your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Go back a page, I think I saw one of me!” Nami was pestering Robin and trying to get it to herself, but any attempts at grabbing it were thwarted by an arm sprouting from the table and swatting her hands away. 

“In a minute, Nami, I’ll let you see when I’m finished,” Robin was entirely unbothered by her pleas (and yours), choosing to casually flip through each and every page with a small smile on her face.

Sanji was looking over them, smiling at the artwork, and was the first to acknowledge that you were standing right there. “These are incredible, though I’m not surprised that you would be so talented~!”

The sweet and genuine compliment almost made you cave in to accepting the situation, but you dismissed it. Swallowing the cake, you can finally speak again, “Please stop looking at that, I don’t like people looking at my sketchbook!” Especially not when the people in question kidnapped you and are actively holding you hostage.

“Oh? Are you shy about it? How cute,” Robin teased.

“It’s not-” you were once again cut off by another cake being stuffed into your mouth.

“What are you guys all looking at?” Chopper was now approaching with Usopp not far behind. Great. Why not just let everyone see it! 

Robin flipped to a page with Chopper on it and showed it to him, “(Y/N), took the time to draw all of us, it seems.”

Chopper’s eyes sparkled at the drawing, and against all logic he was somehow blushing??? “Oh I don’t look all cutesy like that, you jerk!” His dopey smile easily contradicted his words.

“I didn’t know you were also an artist. You should have told me sooner, I could’ve been teaching you! I’ll have you know I’ve tutored many famous artists! In fact, this reminds me- You drew me too?!” Usopp’s tale is cut short when Robin shows him a sketch of himself. 

You finally stop struggling, instead choosing to flop against Luffy in defeat. What’s the point? Damn near everyone has already seen it, you’re sure Zoro will wander on over here soon enough anyways. 

Upon feeling you give up, Luffy lets go and looks very pleased with himself. He unceremoniously shoves the little remaining food into his mouth and runs off calling for Zoro while Sanji gives chase, scolding him for eating all the food.

You just stood there, not knowing what else you could do. With Luffy gone, everyone else was crowding around you, lavishing you with compliments and asking questions all at once. You couldn’t even bring yourself to answer, all you could do was sulk as the last thing that you had just to yourself was taken away and thrown out into the open.

It was bound to happen eventually, you suppose.