#but i wanted to dive deep about this contrast

[originalavenuefox]

Bruno and the murals

You know what Encanto fam? I think it’s very interesting how in the Madrigal mural in town, Bruno’s part of the painting is perfectly normal and not scrubed off or damaged in any manner. However, the painting on his door in Casita was blocked from sight with with wooden boards.

Why I found that interesting? About halfway into the movie, it’s all but directly stated Bruno only became an outcast in town because people either took his bad prophecies as granted eventes, or blamed him for small unfortunes. It would be fair to assume such petty people would absolutely get him off the tribute of the amazing Madrigals, right? Except it shows the townsfolk didn’t have any real problems with Bruno himself, but with what his visions made them think/feel. 

Besides humans’ awful habit of searching for scape goats (which certainly was the root of the problem in some cases), all the people in the Encanto are either survivors from a violent attack that destroyed their former community or direct descendents of them. They too only survived because of a magic that no one understood. Of course there would be people who would get paranoid about Bruno’s visions. Of course they’d want to think he could seal their fates. They wanted the visions to provide security, but when they didn’t do it, their belief about how Bruno’s power worked and traumas made them assume the worst of the prophet. But it didn’t mean their dislike of Bruno ran deep. That’s why they didn’t try to erase the visual reminder of him in town, while his image was banned from his own door. They might have actually felt bad for him after he vanished.

His door being sealed off and his somewhat faded image in the mural inside Casita probably was meant to represent how the Madrigals that knew him well probably felt about his passing overall (because of course each individual had their own way of grieving him). All of them wanted to let him go for good because he just vanished on a particularly difficult night for everyone and didn’t give anything for closure. It wasn’t about Bruno annoying them or reminding them indirectly of a traumatic experience. He was a family member that no one could fully understand and that left them. Add that to the fact that the Madrigals didn’t have a good grasp on communication until the ending of their movie, and you have a pretty clear picture of what would follow.

[floorpancakes]

i refuse to let clamp off the hook for underutilising himawari's fucking fascinating character setup and traits but on a less serious level im obsessed with the concept of her as an instigator of chaos.

like she's way less airheaded than she seems and it doesn't come off like Default Airhead Girl Behaviour or even Default Girl Companion That Ships Her Friends primarily (like not as hard as some other series by comparison I mean she's very I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE by default) specifically she just seems like someone that thoroughly enjoys being a little shit in a sincere way and giggling at her dumbass friends and has a shade of high emotional intelligence about it all. like she's just girl of all time. she's i don't know where im going with this just take this low effort meme from when i watched the holic stage play on youtube this isn't a coherent thought it's like 2am ill come up with better thoughts later

[drchucktingle]

my masks

hey there buckaroos. due to all of the attention the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION situation has gotten i am going to take a minute to talk about my personal way as an autistic buckaroo. im going to tell you about my masks.

im doing this for a few reasons, some are good FUN reasons full of love and some are not so great. 

lets start with the GOOD STUFF. first of all, i am talking about this because speaking on my way can help other buckaroo feel more comfortable speaking on there own way, ESPECIALLY if they are good at ‘passing’ for neurotypical like chuck is. 

unfortunately the NOT SO GREAT reasons im talking about all this dang stuff are two fold. reason one: i have been put into a position of having to explain and justify my needs and boundaries by the TXLA. this is not something that i WANT to be taking up all of my time, but when large organizations do not make space for those who they have pledged to support, it puts us smaller buckaroos into position where were have to defend our existence. it is not plesent but it is necessary.

the second NOT SO GREAT reason is that ‘passing’ bisexual and autistic people like myself are ALWAYS just seconds from being gatekept from folks both outside and inside these communities. there will probably be a day on chucks deathbed where i take off my mask and say hello to this timeline (mostly so you can all see how handsome i am under here but I DIGRESS). i KNOW with absolute certainty (the same way other bi and autistic buckaroos are probably nodding along right now) that when that day comes i will STILL be accused of ‘not being real’ and ‘faking’ because i ‘dont look autistic’ and i have a beautiful ladybuck partner in sweet barbara.

ALL THAT IS TO SAY, i am taking a moment today to talk FOR THE RECORD about my neurodigence and my particular needs. hopefully i will not have to keep diving this deep every time an organization takes a discrimantory action against me, but i will also say this: at least it is a good fight on an important battlefield

anyway buds, here is the story of my way on the spectrum

when i was a young buckaroo i knew that my thought process was different. i could socialize easily, which is unique in contrast to many autistic buds (it is a spectrum after all), but my social ease was for an interesting reason. I ALWAYS KNEW WHAT OTHERS WERE ABOUT TO SAY. it was like a strange ‘human game’ where someone would say one thing and i would think ‘well you actually mean something else’ in a sort of logical way (this is why i later related to DATA from star trek so dang much). at first i remember thinking ‘well i am just NOT going to play along with this human game’. i quickly learned neurotypical buckaroos do not like this, that there is a BOB AND WEAVE to social interactions that must be learned. 

later i realized ‘actually if i WANT to make friends and prove love is real then i can do this like an expert because i can SEE the game where most cant’. this got chuck many buds and took me on many adventures. please understand, i am not saying these connections are not important to me, they are just different. they are full of love, but i express this in my own unique way.

HOWEVER, while growing up i felt disconnected from this timeline in other ways, like an alien or a reverse twin trotting along in a world that is not quite my own. i did not feel emotions the same way my buds did. they would get upset over the ‘human game’ interactions and i would not be moved at all, HOWEVER i could see the way sunlight hit a window and start crying my dang eyes out over the beauty. so my emotion was still there and VERY STRONG, i just felt it in more existential ways (like hearing the call of the lonesome train). these days that feeling has progressed to where i am pretty much in a constant blissed out state of cosmic emotional connection (make of that last sentence what you will, but it is the truth). when i make existential posts online i am not just FIRING OFF SOME CONTENT, i really mean every word. this is really my trot.

anyway as a young buckaroo these feelings made me worry sometimes. i thought about various mental health dianosises and marked the parts and pieces that matched with myself. am i this? am i that? sometimes, instead of just being’ different’ i worried i might actually be ‘wrong’. 

when i saw david byrne on letterman in my younger days i immediately recognized something connected to myself. i thought ‘wow this is the mystery being solved before my very eyes.’ i could hear it in the music of talking heads too. i started doing research and realized that i might be on autism spectrum, something that was later confirmed by a therapist (back then the diagnosis was called asperger's). it was a glorious and fulfilling moment. i was SO EXCITED TO BE AUTISTIC LIKE MY HERO. i felt very cool because of it, and i still feel very cool because of it.

one of the big reasons i talk so much about being autistic these days is because i want to make sure OTHER buckaroos can have that same moment that i did. they can see chuck and think ‘wow i really like this autistic artist, maybe being autistic is cool’

so what does an average day WITHOUT wearing the pink bag look like for me?

my thought process is exactly like ROSE from CAMP DAMASCUS, which is part of why i wrote the book. we have the same stim (complex order of finger taps), we prepare for social interactions the same way, we analyze things in the same logical trot that neurotypical people might think feels ‘detached’ but for me feels natural (certain reviews of camp damascus are very funny to me in this way. you can tell when a reader is just very confused by existing in an autistic brain for 250 pages.)

from the outside you would not be able to tell that i am on the spectrum. in fact you would probably find me very socially adept. 

the problem is, all of that masking can take its toll. i spent years trotting in and out the emergency room, talking to confused doctors who could not figure out the chronic phantom tension and pain that radiated through my body. i eventually accepted the fact that i would either live a life constantly on heavy painkillers or just stop living altogether.

eventually, however, i started noticing a correlation between the way that i felt, and the space that i allowed for chuck and the pink mask. i was exercising that tension, allowing my mental mask of neurotypical existence to take a rest. i started practicing physical therapy and this time THE RESULTS STUCK because i was approaching from two sides, MIND AND BODY. after a while, i got my pain down to about 5 percent of what it once was. i still have flare ups in times of stress, but the healing has been very real and life changing.

lets get VERY specific now. if i attended the TXLA confrence without a mask and gave my talk i can tell you this: i would do a dang good job. i can work the heck out of a crowd and (not to reveal too much about my secret way) I HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO DO THIS ON OCCASION VERY WELL. however, going home from this event i would very likely be in pain. i would likely need to do physical therapy. i would likely need to stim for a while. i would NOT be emotionally fullfilled in the same way. in other words, without my pink mask i can charm the heck out of buckaroos, but THE SPACE OF CHUCK TINGLE IS NOT THE SPACE FOR THAT. the pink bag is a place for me to not have to put up with that tension. it is a place for me to unmask mentally by masking physically.

this pink bag space SAVED MY LIFE and i am not going to risk blurring these lines. if and when that ever happens it will be MY decision, not someone elses. that is my boundary. the part of me that neurotypically masks could handle a library conference in a purely technical sense, but the part of me that chuck represents absolutely cannot and should not be asked to do that without the pink bag. unfortunately, the complexity of this point makes it even MORE difficult for me to think about and takes up even more of my time, because it forces me to START QUESTIONING MYSELF and my own needs. to be honest, that is the most insidious part of other people questioning your identify and refusing to accept your accommodation needs without ‘proof’.

the thing is, while all of this discussion of disability and accessibility is important, i have a much larger point to make by writing these words.

a conference should not uninvite someone with an unusual physical presentation or a strange way of speaking REGARDLESS of it being classified as a disability. it does not matter WHY i look the way that i look and wear what i wear. i should not have to spend all day writing this post instead of writing my next book, just because my sensibilities are unique and my presentation is unusual. 

fortunately the solution is very simple: let other people be themselves. its not hurting you to simply accept and nod at the buckaroos you think look strange. let us exist

[chaewandz]

DUOLINGO DATE : NRK

synopsis: niki catches u practicing japanese on duolingo just for him while he’s asleep

wc: 777 words

pairing: nishimura riki x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: niki teases, y/n throws a pillow, cliché, very cringey I must admit

“translate: a vegetable”

you quickly typed “やさい” into your keyboard, earning a little ding meaning you were correct.

moving onto the next question you were determined to finish the lesson under 30 seconds, even though your speed did not matter in the slightest.

“translate: どうもありがとう!”

“this is way too easy.” you whispered, swiftly typing “thank you very much!” into the space provided. duo blinked at you, then cheered.

“どうもありがとう duo!” you said, giggling as you prepared to answer the next question.

“translate: 先生, おはようございます”

as you were typing the correct english translation, a voice suddenly interrupted.

“what the actual fuck are you doing.”

you jumped, dropping your phone onto the floor and holding your chest, gasping for breath.

“YOU WERE MEANT TO BE SLEEPING!” you declared to your boyfriend as if he was somehow in the wrong for waking up to your extremely loud duolingo practice.

niki laughed and shook his head.

“HELLO why are you learning Japanese from a BIRD when you have me?” he asked, eyes wide and eyebrows raised, now propped up on his elbows.

“because! you were ASLEEP!” you were determined to blame him but only so you could mask your embarrassment.

niki just rolled his eyes, muttering something in japanese that you tried your absolute hardest to understand. but that was merely impossible considering you were still on level one of “greetings” according to Duo’s lesson plan.

“what was that?” you asked accusingly.

“did you not understand? i thought you were a japanese master…” he teased, a smug look on his face.

you just threw a pillow at him in return. this brought about the most dramatic gasp that you had ever heard from niki, which was not easy to beat considering he did this all the time.

you watched as he contemplated picking up the nearest pillow and chucking it at your head in the name of revenge, but paused and composed himself.

“y/n, why are you learning japanese? especially while I’m asleep?” there was a slight smirk on his lips that let you know that he already knew the answers to his own questions, he just wanted to tease you.

“you know, I know, we all know- let’s move on haha go back to sleep goodnightnikisweetdreams!” you rambled, quickly diving under the covers, hiding your face and turning your body away from him.

this didn’t really do anything. you were only met with loud shuffling and breaths until your boyfriend was now laying next to you, also underneath the covers.

“this is nice.” he whispered sarcastically, his lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at the duvet above him.

“now what do you want.” you turned your body now to face him, only to be met with the same mischievous smirk as before.

“tell me why you were learning japanese as a secret.”

“no.”

“yes!”

“no?”

“YES???”

“FINE. fine fine fine fine you win- alright- whatever- yes I was learning japanese because I wanted to surprise you and your family to make them feel more comfortable at dinner tomorrow and to make you happy.” you whispered the last part, letting out a deep sigh. “can we go to sleep now?”

even in the dark underneath your blankets, you could still pick out the rose colored tint that dusted niki’s cheeks, paired with an equally as flustered grin.

“thank you.” was all he could manage to say without getting too lovey-dovey. slowly, you began to smile back, finding his reaction to be quite sweet, a complete contrast to his sass from moments prior.

niki then grabbed your wrist and pulled you closer to him so that your head was now resting against his chest with your arms around his waist.

you breathed in his warmth, eyes peacefully closing.

“do you want to stay under the covers because I’m starting to sweat…” he whispered, suddenly breaking the comfortable silence. you just laughed, jokingly rolling your eyes. your laugh instantly made him chuckle as well, chin rested on the top of your head.

“yeah I’m overheating as well.” you slowly released your hands from around his waist and shoved the blanket away, the cool air of your apartment rushing in.

“better?” you asked, fanning his face.

“much.” he grabbed your wrists again and put your arms back to the way they were, wrapped around his waist.

“goodnight riki.” you whispered, titling your head up to lightly press a kiss to his chin.

“goodnight, sneaky japanese prodigy.” he whispered back, smiling as he kissed the top of your head.

and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the same way you did each night. and as always, you wished that you could stay this way forever.

a/n: 🫠😅💃🏼🩰😚😊☺️😳 guys I wrote this like last summer bc I was trying to beat my gf in our friends quest on duolingo LOLLLL yes freja this is inspired by u. Guys also I gave up learning Japanese on duolingo bc it made absolutely no sense ??? n e ways

[katiexpunk]

Desert Dust | Joel Miller's POV

Summary: The last place Joel Miller expected to find himself at this point in his life was in a small highway town in Arizona, passing the days by. He never really though he needed more -- until he met you.

Warnings: This is Joel's POV from Desert Dust. Yeah, if you thought he was a consent king in the original, this just further proves it. Tommy comes with his own cheeky warning. No age gap mentioned (make it your own), but Joel mentions feeling old. Joel Miller has a bad back (it's canon). Self-deprecation. Attempted assault (not by Joel)/nothing too graphic (please be responsible about what you consume). Joel beats up a bad guy., and like actually kinda wants to kill him for trying to hurt you. References to blood and first aid. Alcohol. Pet names. Flirting/slow burn. Inexperienced reader. Body hair. References to taste of vagina. Smoking/cigarettes (it's bad, don't do it). Oral (f receiving). Praise kink. Rough sex. Sex on a desk. Just a really passionate, filthy fuck. Creampie (shocker, I know). No use of Y/N, no use of daddy. TLOU au. Reader has no physical descriptions apart from female anatomy.

W/C: ~8K

A/N: Thank you for all of the love on Desert Dust. Nobody asked for this, but I couldn't get Joel's POV outta my head, so I hope you enjoy a little deep dive into what Joel was thinking when he first walked into that restaurant. Your honor, they're in love. Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

Did you ever see a robin weep When leaves begin to die? Like me, he's lost the will to live I'm so lonesome I could cry

The timbre of Hank Williams’ voice fills the truck's cab as Joel drives. It’s early, the sky is just beginning to transition from a deep midnight blue to a gradient of warm orange as the sun gradually emerges. While Joel likes to think of himself as a morning person, his back has other opinions on the matter. It’s to be expected, though, that’s what nearly 30 years of hard labor will do to a man.

The warmth of the thermos in between his thighs contrasts with the chilly morning air pouring in through the cracked window. Smoke dances lazily around his broad frame, a burning cigarette clenched between his calloused fingers. He greedily draws long drags, knowing it’ll be hours before he can have another one. He should quit, he knows he should quit. The half-used pack of Nicorette gum that sits in his cupholder in front of him is proof of that. 

But like picking at a scab or peeling the skin of a sunburn, sometimes we all do things we know we shouldn’t, things that make us feel good, if only for just a minute or two. 

In truth, there isn’t a lot that makes him feel good anymore. Jesus, when did he turn into such a grumpy old man? Probably sometime between Sarah going to college, and Tommy convincing him to take this contract job in the middle of fuck all nowhere.

The silence of a falling star Lights up a purple sky And as I wonder where you are I'm so lone–

Williams’ voice falls silent as Joel turns off the truck, having pulled into the work site. He snubs out the cigarette into the ashtray in the middle of the dash and grabs his jacket, a clipboard, and safety helmet. 

“Another day, another dollar,” he mutters to himself, pulling the handle on the driver's side door. The ground crunches below him, his boots are so dusty he doesn’t think he’ll ever get them clean again. God damn desert dust. He shakes his head and walks to the white trailer in front of him, unsure of why he’s so frustrated in the first place.

“Well aren’t you a ray of fucking sunshine this morning,” Tommy says, responding to the quick snap of the door after Joel enters their makeshift office. 

“Don’t,” Joel bites back.

“What’s got your panties in a twist this morning, princess?” Tommy chides, sitting behind a wooden desk covered in blueprints and safety checklists. 

“This really the way you want to start the day, Tommy?” Joel says, voice low and even, masking his emotions. “Just, get to work.” 

He rounds around to the desk opposite Tommy’s and places everything down. The ripped chair lets out a little puff of air under his weight as he sits. 

Tommy, of course, knows what’s eating at Joel. He needs to get fucking laid. 

Tommy can’t even remember the last time he saw Joel with a woman it’s been so long. He was always so focused on Sarah, or growing the company, that he always put himself last. He’s tried to set Joel up on dates, but he always declines, citing he’s too busy or maybe next month. 

And while Tommy doesn’t say anything, it’s as if Joel can practically hear his thoughts. 

“Would you stop thinking so damn loud,” Joel mutters, and Tommy gives him a knowing smirk. “‘M fine. Worry about how we’re gonna finish this project and less about me,” Joel tells him. They both return their attention to their work.

As Joel works to finish up his administrative tasks before the rest of the crew arrives, he tries to shove down the annoyance he feels that maybe Tommy might be right. Maybe it has been too long, besides, rutting his cock into his fist in the shower every night is starting to get old. 

He’s not intentionally trying to avoid meeting someone, it’s just that nobody’s ever really caught his attention, not in any genuine way. He knows he’s attractive, but it might as well be poison to him for the types of women he attracts – it’s all fake tits, tight jeans, and money-hungry cougars just looking for someone to show them a good time. 

Just as he starts to think all of the good girls might be gone – he meets you.

++++ 

God, either this booth is uncomfortable or his back is getting worse. He tries to relieve some of the pressure by hunching over for a second. Nope, that’s worse. He sits up to full height and that’s a little better, for now, at least. He looks at the menu in front of him. He thinks about ordering a burger, but with how busy it is, he’s not confident it would come out in time before his lunch break ends. Besides, he told Tommy he would be back in less than 30. 

He didn’t intend to stop, he was just looking for an excuse to clear his head. But when he went to grab his coffee, he realized he had left it on his desk. He’d taken the highway exit to get to the restaurant by chance, hoping he might find a Starbucks or something quick. But nope, as it usually goes in small towns, the only coffee place nearby is where he currently sits. 

He notices you coming up to the table out of the corner of his eye and turns his head to look at you. 

Shit – you’re beautiful. He thinks he might have died and gone to heaven. He watches as your thighs come flesh with the edge of the table, a coffee pot in your hand. 

"Hi," you say, he notices your voice is soft. "Can I get you something to drink?"

He’s so fucked. You even sound pretty. 

Your eyes find him, and he swears he feels something shift, electricity courses through him. You’re the first person to look at him, actually look at him, in years. He tries to keep his face level, not wanting to give away any of what he’s thinking. 

His eyes drift down to your chest until he notices the nametag pinned to your shirt. Cute name. It matches your pretty face. He internally chuckles to himself when he notices the coffee stains and what he thinks might be ketchup on your shirt. It makes him smile, mostly because he’s no stranger to wearing food himself, although you’re a waitress, it makes more sense to him that you’d be a little messy, a little dirty. He doesn’t quite have the same excuse. 

Distracted, it dawns on him that he’s probably staring. Stop being weird, she doesn’t need some old man gawking at her while she’s just trying to do her job, you fucking creep. 

He moves his eyes to the coffee pot in your hand. Right. The whole reason he’s here in the first place. 

 "Just coffee, darlin'," he says, watching as you pour some into the mug that was already waiting on the table. 

“You let me know if I can get you anything else,” you whisper.

He thinks he might pass out when he sees your smile. So, so fucked. 

“Just coffee for me today, sweetheart, thank you.” 

He internally grimaces when he realizes he’d let sweetheart slip, hoping it didn’t weird you out. You can take the man out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the man. He tries not to stare as he watches you walk away, but he can’t help himself. 

Sitting in silence, he nurses his coffee and tries to ignore the annoying glances that he seems to be getting from, well, everyone. He feels like he might as well have a giant arrow above his head screaming I’m horny for the waitress. He knows he’s looking at you more than he should, but like a moth to a flame, he just can’t seem to look away. He wonders how long you’ve worked here, and what your story might be. He wonders if you’re happy. Why the hell would he be wondering that? He just met you, for fucks sake. 

He’s just another customer. 

The establishment itself is pretty much what’d you expect for a small-town dive, the smell of grease and hamburgers wafting through the air. The portions are huge, and the coffee is good. There’s just one annoying thing about it, and he quickly learns her name is Tracy. 

He only knows this because she’s quick to offer it up, calling him baby and sugar, pestering him like a fly. She’s attentive in a way that’s forced, suffocating in every possible way. He can tell she’s the type of woman who craves the attention of any man who’s willing to give her the time of day, the type of woman that lets her boobs do all the talking. He’s lonely, yes, but he’s not desperate. He wants nothing more than for you to refill his coffee, just so he can hear your voice again, but she makes it near impossible. 

More than three cups of deep, but still bone tired, he feels his phone vibrate in his jeans and he knows it’ll be Tommy asking where he’s at. He pulls it out and sure enough. He looks around the restaurant, hoping maybe he might be able to cash out with you, but you’re nowhere to be seen. 

He opens his worn leather wallet, the same one he’s had since Sarah gifted it to him all those years ago, only to find a handful of $20s. He drops one on the table and decides it’s not worth it to ask Tracy for change; he could go the rest of his life never talking to her again and be fine with it. 

He silently slips out of the restaurant, and his curiosity about you nearly drowns him on the drive back. 

But this time when he walks into the trailer, he can’t help the cheesy grin that involuntarily appears on his face. 

“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” Tommy teases, his words slightly muffled from the bite of PB&J in his mouth, the sticky tack of peanut butter glued to the roof of it. 

“Shut up,” he says, but there’s no bite behind it. 

++++

The days turn into weeks, and he tries to step away from work, he does. Every day he tries to find an excuse to go in and see you, a reasonable time to step away for an hour or so. But it’s hard, project demands are at an all-time high, and the client is up his butt, freaking out they won’t be done in time. He works overtime, arriving earlier than usual and leaving close to midnight nearly every night. 

Joel Miller is a lot of things, but above all, he’s a man of his word. He and his brother didn’t build this company by being late or half-assing work. We’ll get it done, he reassures the client. And they will, he’ll make sure of it. 

“Joel, get up man,” Tommy says, shaking his shoulder. He jolts awake, his vision a little fuzzy, slightly disoriented. 

He must have drifted off during his lunch break and passed out cold on his keyboard. When he finally comes to, he automatically feels a twinge in his lower back. He’ll pay for that little nap later, he can already tell. 

“You’ve been working too hard, why don’t you call it a day, go home, and get some sleep? I’ve got it here for the rest of today,” Tommy offers. As much as they fight, there is a mutual understanding there – respect, even love, although they’ll both never admit to that outright. 

He starts to protest, but the pain in his back tells him that maybe he’s right. Lord knows he could benefit from a hot shower and a good night's rest, but even those things, things that should be relaxing, don’t offer him any respite. When he’s not thinking about work, he’s thinking about you. Your kind, soft eyes, and warm smile have sunk their teeth into his mind, and no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t seem to shake you. 

A rather frustrating fact, considering you’ve probably forgotten all about him. Just another customer, he’s just another customer. 

On the drive back home, he realizes he’s not far off from the exit to the restaurant. You’re probably not even working, and he knows he might be risking seeing Tracy again, but fuck it.  Before he has time to talk himself out of the decision, he’s pulling into the parking lot. 

He’s surprised at how quiet the restaurant is, a lot different from his first visit. He looks at his watch, it’s close to 3 o’clock, and from the state of the place, he can tell the lunch rush likely just finished. He tries to not be obvious about the fact that he’s scanning the place, looking for something, someone. You. 

He sees you before you see him. You look – focused. He can tell you’re a little worn out, but fuck if you aren’t still adorable. He flexes his hand open and closed a few times, trying to calm nerves he didn’t even know he had anymore. 

He grins a little as you tell him to take a seat wherever you want, as he watches intently as you throw the final pieces of flatware into the bin. He’s kind of impressed with how quickly you cleaned up the mess, how easily you hoist the heavy bus bin onto your hip. 

When you finally notice him, he lifts his hand in a silent hello. 

You look cute when you’re surprised. He can tell he’s caught you off guard. Like you weren’t expecting him. He notices as you scan his body, taking him in. He wonders if you feel this too, whatever the fuck this is. 

“Oh, hi. Um, go ahead and take a seat, I’ll be with you in just a second, just gonna drop this in the back,” you say. The smile and obvious excitement that washes over your face tells him everything he needs to know. 

He’s a customer. But what if he was more than that? 

Jesus. 

No. 

He’s just a customer. 

He decides that the booth by the window looks decent enough. The booth and his back fight once more, but he eventually gets comfortable. When you greet him again, your smile and soft voice melt into him, making him forget all the stress of the past few weeks. It takes him a second before it dawns on him that he hasn’t responded to you, that he hasn’t said anything. Talk to her, say something…say anything. 

“I was, uh hoping you’d be here,” he says, realizing how cringe he probably sounds. Has he always been this bad at flirting?

But before he can recover, Tracy swoops in like a hawk, eager to monopolize his attention. He watches as you sink back into the depths of the restaurant, leaving him with her. No, come back. 

She's quick to bring him a menu, some coffee, and offer him a selection of homemade pies, her enthusiasm bordering on overwhelming. He’s being rather curt with her, not even trying to hide the fact that he’s not interested, but the more he seems to ignore her, the stronger she comes on. He’s a thin thread away from telling her to just fuck off, but he doesn’t want to be rude. Besides, he knows you’re busy. He might not get to talk to you this time, but he will – or at least he hopes he will – especially if everything goes according to his plan. 

He’s not even sure if what he intends to do can be classified as a plan. Hell, he’s just glad that he even has a spare business card in his wallet. 

He scans the dining room for you, and once he spots you, he rises from the booth and intentionally catches your eye. With the worn card in hand, folded between the folds of some cash, he hopes that you understand his message when he nods and tucks it under the coffee cup. Please call. He’s not sure he’s ever been more hopeful for anything, ever. 

He swings by the grocery store on his way home, picking up some beer and a frozen pizza, too tired to cook anything real for dinner. He sinks into the cushions of his couch and tries to drown out his hopefulness with the distraction of T.V. But, he’d be lying if he said his heart rate doesn’t quicken with every notification that comes through his phone. 

But you don’t call or text. 

He thinks that maybe you’re just trying to play it cool, not wanting to come across as too eager. 

But as the days go on, still not a peep from you, he tries to shove down the darker thoughts that cross his mind. Maybe he had misinterpreted the signals you were giving him, misread the energy that feels palpable when you’re next to each other. Maybe he’s just out of practice. Not your type. 

You don’t want him. Why would you? He’s just some contractor, an old washup. Probably one of dozens of men who spend their nights waiting, wishful and hungry for even just a glance from you. One of the dozens of men who spew hot loads of come onto their bellies alone at night brought to a tipping point thinking about how sweet you might sound chanting their name, how tight your pussy would feel gripped around their cock. 

Fuck. 

++++

Some weeks later, he’s pulling another late night at the job site. And when the fluorescent lights get to be too much, he decides to call it a night. He can’t quite put a finger on it, but there’s a gnawing in the pit of his stomach, a silent feeling like he should swing by the restaurant – maybe even apologize for coming on too strong or weirding you out. Before he can even rationalize what he’s doing, he’s once again pulling into the parking lot. Except – 

Somethings wrong. 

There’s only one car in the parking lot, and the neon open sign remains lit, but something feels…off. 

He can feel it, like some sort of primal instinct laying dormant in his body has woken up.

It all happens so fast, faster than his mind can register. When he sees you, struggling in the hands of some fucker, he intervenes. He moves fast, doesn’t think twice, just lets his body take over. He pulls the man off of you, adrenaline coursing through his veins, his blood red hot, and his jaw tense. 

“I’d think twice if I were you before you try and win this one,” he says, voice low and threatening. Don’t make me go to jail tonight. 

He’s not surprised he hits the guy as hard as he does. He barely feels it, the bone-crunching under his fist. He’d probably kill the guy if you weren’t right there, watching his every move. It’s not a fair fight, not really. Joel knows he’s bigger and stronger, and has the unfair advantage of being sober. He can tell he probably broke the guy's nose, and that’s probably punishment enough. He drags the man out of the establishment and tells him to get the fuck out and never come back. He hopes the warning is enough, the message clear that if he tries to touch you again, ever, it’ll end worse. He’ll make sure of that. 

He locks the door and turns to face you. You look so – scared. So innocent, shaken, like a baby deer who just saw its mother get hit by a truck. He even thinks for a second that you might be afraid of him, a thought that makes his heart sink. I would never hurt you. He brings both of his hands to the sides of your arms – keeping the touch intentionally light, with a gentle, reassuring grip. It’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe now. 

“You alright?” he asks, watching with concern as you try and put on a brave face. God, he hates to see you cry, hates that anything could ever make you cry. He can tell you’re trying to avoid looking at him, not wanting him to see your vulnerability.

It’s okay. No one is going to hurt you.  

He brings his hand up to cup your cheek and uses the edge of his thumb to tilt you up to look at him. God, you’re perfect. 

The hand that meets his is soft until a sharp sting comes to his attention. He watches as you grab his hand and bring it down to your eye level, noticing the blood on it, a giant split down the middle of one of his knuckles. Fuck that guy. He wishes he would have given him just a little more, maybe a black eye or two. 

"You're hurt," you say, the tears in your eyes now replaced with genuine concern. 

He can tell you’re worried about him, a fact that makes him feel a little fuzzy inside. 

"It's okay, don't worry about it, doesn't hurt," he tries to reassure you. And he is. He’s suffered worse, nothing that won’t be better in a day or two, even if it does sting like hell right now.

"We've got a first aid kit in the back. Let me clean you up," you insist, nodding towards the rear of the room.

He doesn’t want you to have to put up with that right now, especially after everything that just happened. 

"It’s alright sweetheart, you don't have to, really…" he protests.

"You just defended me. Bandaging your knuckles is the least I can do to thank you," you tell him firmly, leaving no room for refusal. 

Fuck, you’re so sweet. So perfect and sweet. You could ask him for the moon and he’d try to find a way to lasso it down for you. 

His heart quickens as you interlace your fingers with his on his left hand and guide him through the restaurant. He even chuckles a little to himself when you tell him to watch his step. You’re being so nice, he can’t be misinterpreting this – there’s no way. But why didn’t you call? The question weighs heavy on his mind. 

In the small office, you flick on the light switch and rummage through the cabinets until you find an old first aid kit tucked away in the back. He leans against the desk, quietly observing you, taking in the fact that he’s here, in this tiny office, with you. That you care enough to help him. That he cares enough to protect you. 

"Ah, got it," you say with a hint of excitement that you found the kit, a little surprised there was even one stashed away. Though most of the bandages and finger condoms are missing, there's still plenty of gauze and alcohol wipes.

His cock twitches a little when you rip open the alcohol wipe with your teeth, he thinks you might be good with your mouth in more ways than one. 

"This might sting a bit," you warn, meeting his gaze with genuine care. I can take it, baby. He can tell the way you’re being with him right now might be your nature, to want to take care of those around you. To be what they need. 

“‘You can make it up to me later,” he whispers, hoping you’re sensing the intention behind his words. As you’re patting the blood on his knuckles, he feels the need to know why you didn’t call bubble up to the surface, the question at the tip of his tongue. Oh just ask her. 

“Can I ask you something,” he says, looking down at you, not even realizing he’s holding his breath. He exhales when he hears you say mhmm in response. 

Rip off the fucking bandaid man. 

“Why didn’t you call?” 

He watches as you close your eyes and take a deep breath. “I wanted to. I mean, I almost did – I typed out so many texts to you it’s borderline embarrassing,” you pause for a second to grab the gauze from the counter behind him. As you lean in closer to him, you bring with you the soft scent of your shampoo. You smell like honey and the earthy, clove smell of tobacco. You smell divine.  

“I guess I’m just not used to being wanted. Don’t know how to do this kind of thing. I’ve been alone for so long, and I guess, I don’t know, Joel,” you affix a little piece of tape to the gauze, before dropping his hand, all finished. How could anyone not want you?

He watches you intently as you stand before him, grateful that you’re being so honest with him. He wishes so badly you would look him in the eye. 

“I didn’t want to embarrass myself. Not sure why a guy like you would even want a girl like me to call him anyway…” you trail off, letting out a small cough to hide the emotion creeping up in your throat. Is she joking?  

He floats his hands up to your hips, and he tugs you in closer to him, body weight still propped up against the desk, his thick thighs bracketing yours. You still avoid his eyes, your gaze seemingly fixed on a button on his shirt. 

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

His hand still hurts a little, a dull throb, but he could care less right now. He trails it up over the side of your body until his fingers land under your chin. Sweet girl. He uses his thumb to tilt you up to look at him. You look so beautiful right now, so raw and so perfect. The soft plush of your lips draws his attention, and he can’t help but touch them.

There’s so much he could say, so much he wants to say. He wants to build you up, to tell you that you’re worthy of the whole world. That you’re beautiful and kind, and that any man would be lucky to have you. He doesn’t even have to deeply know you to know those things. 

But he can tell from the look in your eyes that it’s not what you need right now. He’ll tell you someday. He’ll tell you every day if you’ll have him. 

But no. 

Right now you don’t need someone to tell you how gorgeous you are, you need someone to show you.

“Joel,” he hears you whisper, knowing full well that his thumb is still on your lower lip. He wants so badly to know what they’d feel like on his. 

“Ki–” 

Fuck it. 

He drops his hand and leans in to crash his lips into yours, and holy shit. He wants you so fucking bad. He’s never wanted anything, or anyone, more. 

He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and his cock hardens when you let out a little whimper. He holds you tighter to his chest, his thick and capable hands admiring the soft curves of your hips. He needs more, needs to taste your skin, needs to know what it feels like on his lips. He dips his mouth to your neck, kitten-kissing you as delicately as he can. More, he needs more. 

He skims his injured hand underneath your shirt, caressing the skin between your shoulder blades. Jesus, you’re so impossibly soft, your skin feels like silk compared to his. He nips at your jaw, and the soft moan escapes your lips makes him feel feral. 

“Fuck, baby. Wanna go slow with you, take my time. Do it right,” he says, internally acknowledging how wrecked it comes out.

He trails his hand up and pulls the shirt of your uniform down over your breast, exposing the simple lacey bra. Ugh. It’s so much for him, the little moans you keep making for him as he kisses your neck, the way your nipples respond beneath the fabric to his touch.

“Wanna show you what you’re worthy of sweet girl, in all the ways,” he groans into your chest, and he means it.  

“I want you to fuck me so badly,” you blurt out, lost in the delusion of arousal. 

Fuck. Yes. 

His cock is rock hard, so stiff it’s almost painful. He doesn’t even remember the last time he was this hard. He wants so badly for you to just fall to your knees in this tiny little office and suck it. He wants so badly to hold the column of your throat while he shoves his thick cock into your wet and waiting mouth, feel him deep down your throat. More. He needs more. 

He hopes to god that you’ll chant his name like a prayer when he unravels you like a spool of thread. He can hear it in his head now, as he licks your soft skin and holds you against him. He can’t stop thinking about how pretty you’ll sound when you come for him.

“Patience, angel baby. You’re in good hands,” he purrs. 

“Can I undress you?” he asks. He wants you to know that you’re in control here, that hel’ll only do what you want him to and nothing more. You call the shots. 

You toe off your beat-up sneakers and work to take off your shirt and bra, and he works to unbutton your skirt. Fucking buttons. He thinks it’s cute the way you wiggle your hips to assist him in removing the barrier. After what seems like no time at all, you’re nearly fully nude in front of him, bare save the thin cotton of your panties. Perfection. You are perfection.

He frowns a little when he notices you cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to hide your body. 

“God damn, sweetheart. Look at you,” he says, taking a small step back and admiring the view. He thinks you’re a masterpiece, a piece of art holding court just for him to gaze at. He’s never really considered himself to be lucky, but he must have done something right to have you right here with him right now. 

He gently grabs the arm you’re covering yourself with and exposes your bare chest. Don’t hide, baby. 

“No need’ta hide from me,” he tries to reassure you. 

You push your chest out to him, for him. He accepts your offering; swipes a calloused thumb across your plush, silky nipple, and crouches to catch the other in his desperate mouth. He groans into your chest the second your nipple meets his lips. He smirks at the sound of the deep hum that escapes from your throat, lips still attached to your breast. 

“Feels so good, Joel,” you moan. Just getting started with you. 

He trails kisses down the valley of your breasts, across the soft swell of your stomach, doing his best to whisper sweet praises as he does. It feels so good, so natural when you drape your hands over his broad shoulders and thread your fingers through the curls. It’s been so long since he’s been touched like that, the feeling goes straight to his cock. More. More. More. 

He can tell you’re a little hesitant, maybe a little lost in your thoughts. He does his best to pull you back to him. On his knees, he places both of his hands on the curves of your hips and holds you steady while he looks up at you. You look so beautiful looking down at him, your lips slightly parted, your skin shiny from the sheen of sweat, your obvious arousal evident on your face. He wonders what he must look like to you. 

“Can I take these off, baby?” he asks, hooking his thumbs in the band of them. He wants to hear you say it, to permit him to cross that line. 

“You, um, you don’t have to. It’s okay, really…” you shy away. 

Please, he pleads to himself silently. 

He presses his nose into your mound and fuck, you smell so good, he can’t help but moan. 

“Smell so sweet, need to taste you, sweetheart. I won’t if you don’t want me to, but fuck, I would love to,” he says, and it’s true. He suspects you’ve never had a real man take care of you, taking the time to pleasure you to your heart’s content. A damn shame.

“O-kay,” you say on an exhale. 

“I gotcha, don’t worry,” he rasps out, his voice equal parts gentle, and gruff with desire. He wants to reassure you. 

He gently tugs the fabric down over your thighs, the fabric gathering at your ankles. You take a small step out of them, and he gently caresses up the back of your calve, and back of your thigh, his hand landing on the curve of your ass. He tightly grabs the flesh there. He gently guides your leg up onto one of his shoulders, and you press back into the wall and lean your pelvis closer to him. 

“Fuck, what a pretty little pussy,” he praises, before leaning in to place an experimental kiss on the top of your mound. He thinks this might be the most perfect pussy he’s ever seen in his life. Making sure you aren’t uncomfortable, he looks at you to make sure you’re okay with him continuing. 

He’s eager, and he’s sure it’s coming across in the way he’s kissing you. Once you’re comfortable with his mouth on you, he glides the middle finger of his non-bandaged hand through your wet slit before flipping it so it’s wrist up, pausing with the pad of it right at the entrance of your tight hole. 

He thinks he could come right there, with the way you’re looking down at him with lusty doe eyes and biting your lower lip. He watches your face as he gently nudges the tip in. Fuck, you’re so tight. He holds it there for a brief second, his restraint threadbare, before fully thrusting it up into your core. 

“Fuck angel, you’re tight,” he moans as he continues to feel you, eventually putting his mouth back on your pussy, sealing his lips around your puffy clit. He pumps his finger in and out of you and flicks and swirls his tongue where he can feel you need it the most. You’re so wet for him, so tight, so willing. If he weren’t already on his knees, he knows he’d fall to them eventually, he’d worship at your alter every day if you’d let him. 

“More,” you moan, “Fuck–please, Joel, give me more,” you mewle. 

“That’s my girl, gonna stretch you out, get you nice and ready for this cock,” he whispers against your wet skin as he slips another finger in, one you greedily accept. He devours you, licks at you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, because you are. He could stay here for hours, making you come for him again and again. 

He can tell you’re close, so he picks up his pace. You’re nearly there, seconds away from giving him what he wants. Just one more – 

“Holy shit, yes, I’m coming, oh my god, don’t stop,” you unravel for him, a babbling mess of pleasure, he holds you steady as he works you through it. Perfect, sweet girl. The taste of your release and the pretty sounds you make coming have his cock aching. He gently hoists your leg off of his shoulder and rises to full height. 

“Such a good girl for me, you come so pretty,” he whispers against your neck, nipping at your jaw until your lips find his. He wonders if you’ve ever tasted yourself before, or if he’s the first to kiss you after eating you out – the thought makes him even harder, to know he might be the first to show you how sweet you taste. 

He watches as you begin to kneel before him. He stops you before your knees touch the floor. 

“You don’t want me to suck your cock?” you ask. He does. Of course he does. He’s just not sure he’d last, but he’d never admit that, besides, there’s something he needs so much more right now. 

“Oh angel baby, I would love to feel those sweet little lips of yours wrapped tight around my cock, hold your throat as you choke on me,” he coos.

He groans as he feels you bring your palm to cup him through his jeans, drinking in the sensation of your hands tracing over him. His jaw tightens and his head falls back as you work over him. His cock welcomes the attention, too. He’s already leaking, he needs to come so bad.  

“But there’s something I want more right now. Feel what you do to me?” he says, pressing your hand harder down onto him. “Need to feel that sweet, tight cunt of yours around me first,” he says intensely. You make quick work of undoing his belt buckle and slip off his jeans and boxers in one swoop. It feels so good to be free of the confines of his pants, the pressure on his cock a little less overwhelming now. 

“Yo–you’re so big,” you say, a little intimidated. He grabs you by the hips and holds you tight against him, his cock pressed between your bodies against the bare flesh of your tummy. He can tell you might be a little overwhelmed, but he reassures you. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You can take it,” he says, using one hand to grab the back of your thigh and tapping the other. He lifts you with ease and spins you around so you’re sitting on the mahogany desk in front of him. He stands between your legs, holding himself by the base, pumping himself slowly up and down his length with his fist. He stares at your wet, aching hole, wishing he was buried inside of it. The thought dawns on him that he doesn’t have a condom. No, fuck. “I’m on birth control,” you say, blurting it out. “And I’m clean, you don’t have to use a condom, I mean, if you don’t want to.” And shit – that’s quite possibly the best sentence he’s ever heard in his entire life. 

He knows it might be a little reckless, but he doesn’t have any reason to believe you’d lie to him.

 “Okay. Open your legs wide for me, baby. Wanna see you,” he says, and you do as he tells you. He sees his hard cock in his hand and opens his mouth to spit on it. You’re wet and ready, but he knows he’s a lot to take, and he doesn’t want to hurt you. 

He admires the way you’re holding your legs open for him, giving him full access to your cunt. He positions himself at your entrance and gently pushes his hips forward so the tip of him is inside of you. Holy fuck. He pauses there, giving you a second to adjust. 

“Eyes on me, baby. Wanna see you as I take what’s mine,” he says, his voice a wreck. When you open them, he sinks even deeper. Halfway inside of you, he pauses again. How is he ever supposed to last with your pussy clenched this tight around him. 

He asks if you’re okay, and when you nod, he pushes in a little more, dragging back out of you for only a second, until he’s jutting his hips forward, fully burying himself deep inside of you. Nothing has ever felt this good to him, nothing could ever compare. 

Jesus, think of something else – make this last. He tries to distract his mind, disconnect his cock from his brain, but there’s no point. His primal urges have taken over, his body is losing the war with his mind. 

He sets a slow and steady rhythm at first, dragging in and out of you. He would love to fuck you harder, deeper. He knows he won’t last long, but he doesn’t care, as long as he gets you to come for him one more time. 

“You can fuck me harder, Joel. ‘M not gonna break, I promise,” you coo. His hand flexes tighter, and that’s all he needs. Give the girl what she wants. “Shit, c’mere,” he says, helping you off the desk, steading your legs. He flips you over and presses you against the desk. Your hips are perfectly positioned at the edge. He’s not sure anything could be prettier than you bent over, waiting to once again be stuffed with him. 

He stands behind you, angles your hips up slightly, and once again buries himself in you.

“Such a perfect cunt,” he groans, beginning to set a relentless pace. As good as this feels for him, he can tell that something about this angle does something for you, too. His cock fits just right, pushing and gliding over the spongey spot inside of you that he can tell is gonna be the thing that pushes you over the cliff of your orgasm. He holds your hips tightly as he pumps in and out of you, eliciting throaty moans from you. The air is filled with the filthy wanton sound of skin slapping against skin. 

“I –” you mew, “I think I’m gonna come again,” he hears you say, a little breathless. 

“Come for me, baby. Be the good girl I know you are and show me how pretty you are when you come on my cock,” he says, a little out of breath, voice deep. 

Yeah, that’s right. Use me.  

And you do. Your pussy pulses around him as the wave of your orgasm takes over you, and it’s borderline too much for him. He’s gotta slow down if he’s gonna last another second. 

“Where do you want me, baby?”

“Inside, please. Want you to fill me up, make me yours,” you beg for him. 

Holy fuck.

After a few more thrusts of his hips, he begins to stutter and slow. He pauses buried to the hilt inside of you and groans as his cock paints your insides with thick ropes of come. The immediate release of pressure is exhilarating, probably the best orgasm he’s ever had. He feels his cock pulse out final spurts of come, eliciting shakes from him with each one. He feels weightless like he could fly away and sleep on a cloud.

The sensation of him pulling out is a little much, his cock raw and spent. “Stay there,” he says, scurrying off to the kitchen, looking for something he can give you to help clean you up. His eye catches a roll of paper towels next to the sink and he grabs a handful of them for you. 

When he enters the office, he notices how breathtaking you look post-orgasm, post-fuck. It’s a sight he’ll commit to memory forever. He presses his lips to yours again, drinking in your sweetness once more. He thinks he could kiss you forever and never tire of it. 

He helps you get dressed, and you fasten his belt buckle for him and check the gauze on his fist. You both stand there in silence, not quite sure where to go from here, until he offers up. 

“Wanna smoke?” 

++++

“So, how long have you lived here’?” he asks, holding open the lit zippo from his back pocket to you. With the cigarette dangling between your lips, you steady it between your fingers and lean in, he admires your features amidst the dim glow of the fire. So beautiful.

“Too long,” you mumble. He lights his own. 

“And you, where are you off to next?” He hears you ask, and he's not sure how to respond.

“Not sure, the contract job my brother and I have in the county over ends in a week or so. Was thinkin’ it might be nice to head south, maybe Austin,” he responds, smoke twirling in the air around you both. 

“Although, ‘M not so sure anymore. Starting to think I might have a few things I need to take care of here first,” he says, shifting his gaze from the ground until his hooded eyes find yours. You. I need to take care of you.

You smile when he winks at you. Gosh, you’re cute when you smile. He wants to be the reason you smile every day. 

You stand there in comfortable silence, leaning up against the wall next to him. He thinks it feels nice to be wanted, to have someone to just be with. 

And when it’s time to go, he offers you his hand and a ride home. He’s pleased when you accept. 

It’s too soon. He knows it’s too soon, but the thought of you in the passenger seat of his truck, feet on the dash, wind in your hair, makes his heart skip a beat. 

He wants more. 

And something tells him you do, too. 

END

Ily. Thanks for reading! Tags: @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @pedrostories @bastardmandennis @milly-louise @drunk-and-capable @survivingandenduring @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @amyispxnk @paleidiot @ghostwritesthings @kulekehe @darkheartgatita @goldenhxurs @morallyinept @missladym1981 @auteurdelabre @morgaussy @likeficsinthewnd @morning-star-joy @agentjackdaniels @cayleej @amyispxnk @zialltops @syd-djarin @untamedheart81 @gracevnn @pedrossl4t @littlevenicebitch69 @chulopascal

[hanamisofficialspouse]

Basically just Sukuna admiring your pussy and eating ya out. (NSFW CONTENT!!! MINORS DNI!!!)

(Sorry for the grammar mistakes in advance yall, English is not my first language💩)

(I had this in my mind for so long, I had to get it off💀😭)

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

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First of all. Do you think Sukuna gives your pussy such massive pleasure because of you? Nope. You're wrong.

That pussy belongs to him, alright? He is the King of Curses, and if he says he owns you, says he owns it, that is a fact. That pussy is his to play with, to tease, his to taste. His to eat. He couldn't care less about how does it make you feel, what matters is that it's tasty. Addicting. Intoxicating. And that the King likes it.

And the way Sukuna is so mesmerised by it, gazing at it like its the tastiest meal he has ever witnessed, while completely ignoring you, like you're not even there. Those massive arms keeping you still, while he takes his time, savoring the view of your lips glistening with juices, clit twitching in sensitivity, your little hole clenching pathetically around nothing, practically calling out for him.

Oh, and he hears her. And he missed her, too. Sukuna can't help but let out a gentle rumble out from his chest, nose hovering above it and taking in that sweet, sweet scent, brows knitting and eyes closing, as his grip on you gets stronger, as a warning to keep still and quiet. That breath keeps fanning your folds, a cool contrast to the warm, awaiting arousal.

The King then finally makes a move, and swipes his tongue across your labia so painfully slow, gathering your nectar, and earning rather loud sounds from your throat, much to his amusement. "Quiet, woman. Can't you see I'm feasting?" He sneers, chuckling darkly at your huffs and whines of protest. His nose nudges those lips, admiring the shape of your cunt, the size of your fluttering hole, and the delicious juices it produces. Sukunas cannines gently nibble on those lips, gently tugging at them, as his fingers trace lines across your thighs, squeezing and scratching at the skin with those sharp nails, leaving red marks all over them.

Sukunas head dives deeper, now entirely evenloping his mouth around your clit, flicking and sucking at the aching nub, as his two fingers prod the entrance, teasing your cunt, making more wetness ooze out of your hole, coating the already soaking flesh. His mouth goes lower, gathering and slurping the nectar rather loudly, like a child without table manners, making sure his tongue doesn't leave anything behind. The King groans at the addicting taste of your cunt. He could never get tired of it. Without a warning, the warm muscle plunges deep inside your entrance, as his lips open wide and settle over the entire vulva. He keeps tongue-fucking you, slowly at first, but gradually picking up the pace. His fingers tease and massage your pink swollen a-hole, coated in wetness, making it easy for the fingertips to slide in, massaging and scissoring it. Sukuna then makes out with your lips, leaving open-mouthed kisses and nips at the pink flesh, while his warm muscle goes even deeper inside your hole. His eyes rolled back, grunting and sighing at the delicious meal he has been given, his face lightly pussy drunk and covered in a shade of crimson red.

Of course, because of doing such wonders with his mouth on you, you soon came hard, squirting all over him. Soaking his hair, face, making the curse simply hiss in delight, muttering praises at your cunt for doing such a good job for him. And he makes sure to lick it all off, he doesn't want his prize to go to waste. You try to push him off, overstimulated and panting, but he just doesn't care. Sukuna will continue eating you out, until the King feels satisfied. Until he has slurped every last drop of your cum, until there is nothing left, until your cunt gets all swollen and red from his abusing.

He does own it, after all. It's his. And he eats it not because of you, because of him.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

(Likes and reblogs are appreciated <3)

[holybibly]

Mmm, I just couldn't resist these thoughts. I think I need a full work about Siren Seonghwa. He's so coded for that, don't you think, bunny?

Since the unholy hours are active again. I would like to ask you two things.

Firstly, I try to answer your questions in as much detail as possible. But in this case, I can't answer as quickly as you would like. Should I keep doing that or would a quick, short answer be better?

Secondly, do we need a master list for the unholy hours? Let me know what you think.

I love you bunnies, and I hope that you are all ready to take a deep dive into the water.

These are my unholy thoughts

Warning: Dub-con, siren! Seonghwa

Your thighs feel so unbelievably soft to him when his cold lips touch them, and the skin under his sharp teeth like the petals of a flower. The urge to bite you is so strong; Seonghwa wants to hear you sigh and to taste the sweet blood that pulsates through your tender veins. But even though his instincts tell him to leave his marks and rights all over your body, he doesn't want you to feel the pain of your first time together. Instead, he lowers his gorgeous face between your legs and sucks hungrily at your cunt, the delicious flavours exploding on his cold, slippery tongue as he sucks. Just the taste of you makes his cock bulge out of its sheath. Hardening and throbbing with the need to be enveloped by the soft, warm walls of your beautiful pussy.

You moan so beautifully as his long tongue penetrates deep inside you, caressing your walls from the inside, and as his nose nuzzles your clit. An incredible contrast of temperature is created as his cold breath flows over your warm flesh, stimulating you even more. He gently strokes the top of your thigh, forcing himself to pull his lips away from your pussy for a moment.

"How does it feel, love?"

"It feels so good; keep kissing me." You're slurring what you're saying; your voice is heavy and delusional.

Seonghwa runs his clawed fingers down your cheek, admiring the way your eyes close in bliss at the touch of his hand. He would like to see the beautiful sparkle in your eyes that enchanted him. But under the hypnotic trance of his song, they have become hazy and distant. He is so sorry, but you have resisted him so much; you have resisted the call and the desire of your body so much that Seonghwa had no other choice but to sing for you. But he is confident that in time you will accept his love, his partnership, and that he will once again be able to admire your beautiful sparkling eyes as he devours you and deifies you during the lovemaking.   Seonghwa loves you deeply. Maybe too much is too much to be normal.

But for the time being, it is better for you to remain semi-conscious and submissive to him. Your sweet little pussy will find it much easier to stretch out and accommodate his larger cock with more pleasure than it will hurt. This is a real act of mercy on his part.

Seonghwa can't wait to be inside of you and to feel the welcoming warmth of your delicious cunt. He grabs hold of a rock and pulls his body and a beautiful, dark purple tail out of the water. The smooth scales shine like jewels in the light of the moon. His face is now in line with yours, and Seonghwa kisses your soft cheeks and fragile neck tenderly. The song you hear in your head doesn't give you enough coordination to kiss back. But you still feel his love and attention. How lovely.

"Now I am going to fuck you, my love. That's what you want. Isn't it?"

You nod and nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, enjoying the soft, cool feel of his skin.

"Yes, I want your cock, please." Seonghwa's song completely convinces you that this is exactly what you need; your voice is still slow and barely audible.

"Yes, sweetheart, that's what you want, and of course I will give it to you. I'm going to fuck you so good, darling." Seonghwa chirps.

His hands tremble a little as he presses the wet, swollen head of his cock against the small of your pussy. Biting his juicy lower lip until it bleeds from the delicious sensation, he rubs it several times between your plump, soft folds. He can't moan out loud now. It might ruin the song he's singing in your head.

It's finally time for him to mate with you, to have his way with you, and to breed with you. Seonghwa feels like he's in heaven after so much longing and desire.

When he finally enters you, stretching your little hole, his moan is so soft and restrained. He takes his time and slowly fills you all the way to the base with his massive, thick cock. His sharp nails dig into the stone beneath you, leaving white claw marks in their wake. As your velvety walls tighten around him, welcoming the penetration, his thighs cramp. He's afraid he'll pass out too soon. It's been such a long wait. This should be his pleasure.

Seonghwa wraps his arm around your leg and wraps her around his slutty waist, using it to ease his movements and establish a slow, deep rhythm of his cock as it pumps into you. He throws his head back and lets his eyes roll back in pleasure. Seonghwa looks slutty and vicious as he enjoys your cunt. The moonlight filters through the cracks in the stone of this secluded cave by the sea, tangling in his long strands of shimmering purple hair. Even the slightest whimper you make can be heard echoing off the walls. It is the most beautiful music to his ears, and to Seonghwa, it is a million times more beautiful than his own song.

"You are divine, dear one." Seonghwa whispers and presses his hips even more firmly against yours. He can feel how the head of his cock is hitting the deepest and most sensitive place in you with every thrust, and he is enjoying the way that you are clenching around him as he does so. The wet sound of his iridescent scales as they hit your ass reminds him of the sweet juices that flow from your pussy and how he is going to drink them every morning and every evening now that he has you. His cock twitches inside you as he thinks this, dripping heavily with his own pre-cum. 

Maybe he'll lick your pussy after he's filled you with his cum, tasting the mixture of your juices and the confirmation of your love. The twitching and throbbing of his cock will be even more intense.

Seonghwa captures your lips in an icy, passionate kiss, devouring your mouth and all the little sounds that you are making. Ignoring your minimal efforts to kiss him back, his long, slippery tongue slips into your small mouth and wraps around your tongue.

Your nails dig into his back, leaving only a minimal amount of damage. Seonghwa wants you to make him bleed out of it. He wants you to drink from him as much as he is able to drink from you.

"I'm close." You whimper, close your eyes, and tremble all over, either from the cold of his touch or from the approach of orgasm.

"Yes, yes, cum on my cock, my love," Seonghwa chokes, his eyes sharp and full of wild passion; midnight violet irises reflecting the dark hunger of his gaze. "I want to feel your love; I want to taste you."

You whimper as Seonghwa pulls out of you completely, leaving you empty and coming to orgasm. You look like a goddess in the throes of passion; your breasts are red from his kisses, and his claw marks are swelling on your fragile waist. His wish is that it will last forever.

He shoves his cock deep inside you, finally giving you the euphoric high you want before you can whimper and beg for Seonghwa's cock. As your orgasm washes over you and you milk his cock, your legs wrap around the base of his tail, shaking. Soon after, he cums and fills you with his cum until your belly is slightly bulging from the amount of sticky, pearly white fluid that has come.

Seonghwa slides out of you and lies on the floor beside you, resting his head on your chest. The cum is leaking out of your cunt, and he is lazily pushing it back in again. Your eyes, which are still blurry, close as you press yourself against him and do whatever he wants you to do. As your exhausted body drifts off to the siren's new song, your breathing becomes even, and you fall into a gentle sleep. Seonghwa caresses your cheek with his hand, and it feels so good to know that it is your face that will greet him every night from now on.

He will continue to sing to you until the end of time, if that is what it takes to keep you with him.

[chirpsythismorning]

This is everything the Stranger Things writers have posted publicly about the WGA strike:

TIMELINE

May 3rd:

Stranger Things writer Caitlin Schneiderhan tweets picture from personal Twitter account of sign from the strike that reads 'Pay us or Steve Harrington is toast'

May 6th:

Official Stranger Writers Twitter account makes post on behalf of the Duffers Brothers. They have since pinned this tweet to their profile. "Duffers here. Writing does not stop when filming begins. While we're excited to start production with our amazing cast and crew, it is not possible during this strike. We hope a fair deal is reached soon so we can all get back to work. Until then -- over and out. #wgastrong

Bonus:

May 12th:

Stranger Things writer Kate Trefry posts picture from personal Tumblr account of sign that reads, 'Byler won’t write itself'

As far as I know, the two writers that posted on their personal socials are the only writers from ST that even have personal accounts that are public, whereas the rest of the writers do not.

What does make me take a pause though, is that, while yes they did post these pictures from their personal accounts, which is about as official as it gets, they also cryptically did not include themselves in said pictures...

This just got me thinking about how Stranger Things is quite literally Netflix and vise versa. They are practically one in the same, where one without the other just doesn't make sense.

While this conflict of interest might run deep for many writers out there fearing to speak out against their employer, for us, the consumers, the fans, we as a collective have so much more power than we realize.

In contrast to the writers, streamers can't just fire their consumer base sometime down the line, out of spite for speaking out. Without consumers, neither Stranger Things nor Netflix would be what it is today.

We have the affordance of being able to speak up the loudest of anyone. And so why wouldn't we take advantage of that?

There are so many people out there protesting: writers, actors, others in the industry and even outside of it who are also taking a stand, many who need support so that they can continue to fight in the upcoming days, weeks, months, without being deterred by corporations that are making them feel greedy for demanding a contract that at most, asks that they be paid fairly.

And so I want to encourage anyone that is reading this, but fellow fans of Stranger Things especially, who have so much power in this strike when it comes to getting Netflix's attention, to consider taking the time to do whatever you can individually + with the masses as a community in order to best support the strike.

Follow the Strike! If you're active on various social media already, please be sure to follow the official accounts advocating for the strike via Instagram (@writersguildwest/@wgaeast), via Twitter (@WGAWest/@WGAEast). Engage with posts from folks that are out there daily, many with whom you can find by following tags like #WGAStrong, #WGAStrike and #WritersStrike. Although most fans are not able to join in picketing themselves, we can at least recognize all of those out there's individual efforts and do our best to show that we're paying attention and listening!

Spread the word! Show support any way you can by sharing posts and articles about the strike, or even fun memes to inform others in a more engaging way. This is the official site for the WGA strike if you want to learn more about what’s going on before diving in! And make sure to stay up-to-date here as things continue to unfold!

Donate! The Entertainment Community Fund is endorsed by the WGA for anyone that wants to support those affected by the strike financially. And this thread on Twitter is an incredible resourse, as it provides an ‘easy, one-click, stress-free, accessible-to-all-budgets’ ways you can support folks on the front lines.

Also! Consider donating through this link for the Entertainment Community Fund, where the money donated still goes directly to that fund, this is just an organizing page for Stranger Things fans specifically! By allowing fans to see how much of an impact we make as a collective, in real time, this could encourage even more ST fans to want to contribute. In a best case scenario, if this GoFundMe were to reach impressive proportions of donations from fans, that could lead to news outlets reporting on it, which could allow an opportunity for even more eyes on the strike, while also even more importantly being able to provide financial support to those that need it.

Trend! On social media, use #StrangerFansforWGA to trend or even just to reach other fans also looking to come together to support the strike!

While I know this post probably wont reach anywhere outside of Tumblr, I want to make a point to encourage those of you that are on other platforms to inform fans in those spaces about the strike and what they can do to help!

We might not all agree on everything, but I think we can agree on at least one thing... @Netflix & all major streamers and networks out there, who are still refusing to make a fair deal: PAY YOUR WRITERS!

In the mean time, if you're interested in working on different ideas for initiates we can carry out as a fandom, please reach out to me! I might only one person and I might not have all the answers and solutions, but I do know that with more of us working together, our odds of making an impact are much greater!

Over and out!

[sanspuppet]

✰ smut: 18+

✰ Hongjoong x fem reader

✰ a/o: short scenario bcuz im bored

ㅡㅡㅡㅡ

“Fucking sl-“ Hongjoong lets out a sharp groan, as you squeeze his cock with your hand, looking up at him you can see his provoking stare at you. “You better shut up” you demand, stroking decisively his cock without looking at him, your eyes paying only attention to his hard member. “You cheated on me” he accuses, releasing his stress by gripping harshly at the sheets beneath him. “No i didn’t.” your hand develops a faster pace on his length as your frustration grows. “Keep your hand off of my dick, whore.” he quickly exasperates, though he doesn’t want to, your touch on him is driving his mind blurry, his body can’t lye that it gets so fucking excited by you. “yet you let me strip you, and you’re already climaxing” you scold him, a smirk diving into your face by watching him struggling to find a good excuse. Suddenly all his coherent thoughts vanish, when you attach your lips on his cockhead, sucking purposely on it. “He was my high school best friend” you cut your sentence, taking fully his cock down your throat, before pulling out again and continuing: “it was only a dinner to update our life situation, do you fucking get it?” Hongjoong throws his head back, letting a quivering moan. Even if he knows you’re being honest, he’s blindly jealous, having seen that brat so close to you. “Oh yeah? Did you tell him you’re mine?” Hongjoong tries to articulate, between deep sighs given by pleasure. You chuckle arrogantly, your hand stroking mindlessly his lubricated cock while you stare at his dazed face. “How about shutting the fuck up, Joong?” Your pace speeds up suddenly, squelching sounds are echoing in the room, his pressed lips are muffling his whimpers, his body starts spasming from the unexpected overstimulation: “Fuck fuck fuck ok—“ he breathes in desperately as the need of cumming on you is growing intensely inside his core. “Good boy” You lick another time on his tip, before standing up. Hongjoong follows your movements with his eyes, he watches carefully, though his mind is already went dumb. He gazes at your lower body when you move aside your unties, smirking cockily as you watch his excited yet frustrated eyes. Your fingers squeeze his muscular shoulders, holding your body on him, while bringing slowly your hips down, enough for you to feel your cunt rubbing against Hongjoong’s cock. “i better use what’s mine, don’t you agree? And you better take it.” you push your hips down his lap, embracing his dick with your soaking pussy. You rub yourself against him slowly, enough for you to stretch out, before starting to bounce simultaneously with his length buried in you. “Tell me, Joong…” you lift his chin, forcing him to look at you. “Did you understand?” your soft voice out of contrast with your rough movements. “Mmh fuck. Yes. g-got it.”

[miyuhpapayuh]

Massage.

The cold metal of his bottom grill rubs along the inside of her ankle as she lays down on their bed. His massages always end up with him being more than touchy.

His hands found their way to her calves, pressing his fingers into her skin, his lips still lazily sliding up her leg.

“Jey,” she laughs, gasping as his bottom canines softly dig into her flesh, his tongue soothing it afterward.

Turning her head to look at him, she stares at the mischievous grin on his fine ass face.

“What?”

“You said you'd behave.”

“I am!” He chuckles, “I can't get a nibble or two?”

“No!” She giggles, turning to place her face back into the pillow once he moves up to her back, actually relieving the tension that had settled in her bones.

“Oh man, those hands are really magical cause no way,” she mumbles, stretching in ways she hadn't been able to in a few days due to the unbearable pressure when she'd try.

“I told you, I got the magic touch.” He hums, working his way to her lower back, kneading circles in the area with his thumbs.

“Yeah, you do.” She agrees, swiping her hair to the side to get more comfortable.

Pulling her left foot up to rest on his shoulder, she almost questioned him until one hand came up to rub her calf again, melting the tension right away.

Her eyes closed at the feeling, nose wrinkling up as his mouth found its way back to her ankle. She hums a laugh.

“I'm behavin’ as best as I can,” he grumbles, running his hand up her leg to mess with her little black shorts. “You just look so good like this, all laid out and relaxed, oiled down and smelling good,” he trails off, running his pointer finger up the center of her crotch.

Her sweet gasp makes him chuckle, a spank to her cheek earning him another one, her body beginning to squirm.

“Jey..”

“You wet as hell,” he darkly chuckled, moving hand back to rub her clothed slit. “I feel that shit."

“Th-this is not behavin’,” she tried to scold, all of that going out of the window as he pulled off her shorts and panties with ease.

Her pretty brown treasure staring at him, her slick shining as she rolls her hips in his direction, unable to deny her want for him any longer.

Diving into her wetland, she instantly shivers at the contrast of his warm tongue and his cold grill, one of her hands coming back to caress his head.

“Fuckkk,” she moans into the pillow as he dips his tongue into her opening, lapping up every drop of her sweet taste.

“Mmm… so good, baby,” he moans against her, slapping her ass with both hands.

His tongue finds her clit, suckling it into his mouth as her back arches, her hips jutting against his face as she nears her peak.

“Fuck, don't stop baby.. fuck!” She moans, clutching his hair in her hand tighter.

He wags his face against her, chuckling as she begins to scoot up the bed to get away from him, his mouth relentless as he grabs her thighs to hold them apart as he continues licking and sucking until her cum drips down his beard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” her hands are stuck in the sheets, his sloppy licks don't cease as her head spins from the pleasure.

Replacing his tongue with his fingers, his index and middle rub up and down her wet slit, her hips wildly buck against them, already about cum again.

“Fuck— fuck me, please!” She whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut as her orgasm rushes through her, making her tremble in his hold.

“Stay just like this, beautiful,” he says, pushing the arch into her back, spreading her thighs to see her slick opening, before moving between them, rubbing himself between her folds.

Pulling her hair away from her neck and up into a makeshift ponytail, he glides into her and groans at how good she feels wrapping around him.

Her gasps at every deep thrust bounce off the walls of their bedroom.

“Fuck, you feel so good baby.” He moans, slapping her ass with his free hand, watching her grab for the pillow in front of her.

“Just like that,” she breathes, “fuck me!”

His hips piston into her ass over and over, tapping a spot that's got her body twitching, her eyes roll back at the sensation.

“Fuuuck, that f-feels so good! Right there!” Her whines are music to his ears, all the fuel he needed to keep going.

Moving his hands to her hips, his thrusts get deeper as her head falls forward, her wild moans hitting the sheets underneath her.

“Mhm, let it out baby… that shit feel good, don't it?”

“Yes!” She yells, throwing her ass back, her hands threading into her own hair, pulling as it gets good.

He bites his lip at the sight, swatting her ass again, groaning as she clamps down on him, cumming again.

Pulling away to flip her over, he hovers back over her. Her chest heaves up and down as she stares at him, ready for his next move.

“Can I get one more outta you, baby?” He asks, pulling her left leg up in his hip, grinding against her.

“Y-yes,” she softly moans, reaching between them to put his dick back inside, turning him on even more.

“Mmm, sexy ass.” He grabs her chin and smashes their lips together finally, swallowing every whimper and moan, throwing his hips into hers just the way she likes.

“Mmf!,” she pulls away to throw her head back, her eyes rolling backward as his tongue finds her neck. “J-just like that, baby— fuck!”

“Just like this, huh?” He asks as they wrap their arms around one another.

“Yes! It feels s-so goood! So good!” She whines, feeling her body tighten for the fourth time, pulling him down with her.

“Fuck, I'm cumming all in this pussy, baby?” He asks against her ear, the rutting of his hips becoming choppy.

“Yes, please cum inside me,” she moans, unable to stop the way she flexes around him, as her orgasm floods through, making him softly bite into her neck and fill her up.

Taking a minute to breathe, she softly hits his chest. “You still owe me an actual massage, Jey.” He laughs in return.

“I know, I know. I got you.”

For my girl @harmshake I hope you enjoy! 💜

[sinimake]

How to write smut scenes

Some personal tips i use for writers who want to set fires to the loins of their readers: (nsfw content)

For starters, define your end goal and drive of your smut.

Every writing must have a drive. Every character has an intention. No, I'm not talking about only the plot, and yes, even PWP needs it. Your scene can start in the midst of the action but must still contain the purpose.

Ask yourself why are the characters fucking? Does one character want to show their love to the other? Or are they seeking their own pleasure? Your characters' dynamic can be the drive. If you have kinky undertones, that can be your drive too.

What this does is that make the scene spicy, stake up the tension and give gratification to readers when the goal is reached.

Point of view

I said it before and i will say it again: No head hopping! Smut is a very intimate scene in which we dive deep into the character's feelings, emotions and entirely focused on their sensations.

You make readers feel the sensation of your first character then show outward reactions of your other character(s). So carefully choose whose pov you wanna write. If you need to change the pov, take a scene break, then switch.

How to absorb your readers into the action?

There's a simple technique called "being in your prime character's head" and this is how you do it.

Instead of writing this:

The air in the room was cold but the florescent light overhead was warm.

You write:

Goosebumps broke out on A's arms against the brisk air of the room while the warmth of the florescent light overhead heated his flushed skin furthermore.

An active tone example:

A shivered against the streep contrast of the cold night air and their flushed skin under the warm florescent light.

The beauty of pacing

If your foreplay is nicely detailed but the main course lasts for like two paragraphs, the satisfaction aint gonna be it, bestie. (Or you intentionally want it short, then oke you do you boo)

One of my favorite pacing techniques is carrying out the actions through dialogues. It keeps the characters dynamic and adds variables to the sentences while pushing the motion.

How to lengthen your smut scene:

The writing feels bland? Add sultry words.

Don't know many variations of sex movements? Use implications! You don't need to describe every thrust. Write about the noise, the rhythm, the bed moving, heart fastening, thighs quivering, breath getting haggard etc.

The scene feels too action oriented? Let your characters talk! Break it up with dialogues! Dirty talking is your condiment.

You don't wanna write long scene but want it to feel like it is long and properly paced? Change positions.

Don't know how to get in the mood? Watch porn (not only to enjoy it) and try to narrate what's happening in your head. It is a useful exercise, if you're comfortable.

Literally don't know what to add? Read smuts and take examples.

Well, that's it, folks! If you have any questions, feel free to hit up my ask, and i will walk you through it, bestie.

Happy writing!

[parisoonic]

I just want to say I love how you do your lineart, it looks so good! ahhhhhhhh!!

I'm gathering a lot of advice about the topic of lineart and I just wanna know how you get it to look like that? My line weight is getting better but the drawing itself just comes out a bit.. weird.

Thank you so much! Lineart is probably the thing I've been working hardest on as I am not a lineartist (and still struggle a lot) but it's something I really need to get better at for my job. UM there's honestly so much that could be said on the topic of lineart. Big things for me are:

Weight -> Use line weight (aka thickness) to describe form, lighting, contact and scale. Thick lines imply shadow, contact and nearness-to-camera. Thin lines imply tension, recession and light.

Straights vs Curves -> Use straight lines against curved ones for maximum interest. This is partly a character design thing but as we're using lines to describe our characters it's worth mentioning :)

Complex vx Simple -> Use complex lines against simple. Faces are always complex so therefore the backs of heads should always be simple. Chests are quite complex so backs should be simple. Dorsal sides of the arms are complex (Delt, tricep, bicep) whilst the ventral side is more simple (tricep...mainly) etc.

'Think in Ink' -> Lower your sketch layer almost to 0% opacity so you're not getting hung up on how nice/energetic your sketch look and instead are approaching the piece from an ink mindset. BUT it's digital! So if there's something in your sketch that you like just bring it forward (copy and paste) into your ink layer. I sketch and ink with the same brush so I can use this workflow

'Confidence' -> small hesitant feathery lines will look nervous compared to big swooping lines. Less is always more. I'll redraw arms/limbs until I can get the appearance that it was done in one brush stroke. Again it's digital so you can erase to cheat this look : )

MISC 01: I always hear 'draw from the shoulder'........meh............it's digital so draw from your wrist...it's fine honestly. If we were working at A1 in a life drawing class then we could get some shoulder action going but most of us are hunched over 16inch tablets. I think this advice aims to pull people away from feathery-nervous lineart honestly which you can improve on without relearning how to draw from your shoulder.

MISC 02: For a 'smoother' look do your lineart at a larger canvas size than you need. Once I'm happy with a sketch I usually double the canvas size and do my lineart then.

MISC 03: In PS (at least) anti-aliasing goes funny at any zoom level that isn't in the 5 times table. So try not to look at your canvas when you're zoomed in to 87% or 71.39% or something crazy. Just stick to 25%, 50%, 75% and 100% if possible.

UNFORTUNATE TRUTH: Lineart is incredibly based on raw draughtmanship I've discovered. When you're working with colour you can hide a lot in rendering (shadows, highlights) or post-processing (depth of field) but in lineart all your mistakes are just...there for people to see. There's ways round this...which I use A LOT. 'Flourishes' (I use 'flourishes' to mean over-confident lineart where it veers particuarly thick or particuarly thin in contrast to your approach in the rest of the image) can sort of trick people into thinking you're more confident about an area than you actually are.

As well as leaving 'breathing room' within your lineart instead of actually...resolving the area. I do this the most around the face and hands.

Hopefully some of this helps? Honestly there's a lot of deep dives that could be done into indivudal things and there's also the massive caveat that all of these are 'guidelines' and not strict rules. I also favour a more...concept-arty? animation-y? storyboard-y? look to my lineart which favours flourishes and breathing room for a incomplete/work-in-progress feel which would make methodical colouring (ie: for a comic or something) a pain.

Keep up pratice is the main thing and doing studies of artists who you like that have great lineart - you'll pick up draughtmanship skills along with the lineart studies. Here's some of my lineart from a year or two ago...it varies between very 'standardised' (which makes it difficult to read volumes and to be honest, it's boring) and 'TOO EXCITING' (which...also makes it difficult to read volumes and for the eye to rest).

I'd like to share my brushes at some point as I've found 3 that I really like and use for everything more or less. I discovered that a shocking low amount of people use PS on tumblr (shocking to me I guess as i'm so used to PS being the standard) and everyone seems to use Procreate or Clip Studio Pro...so I want to check that the brushes are Procreate compatible at least before I share!

[nayatarot777]

{what do they find attractive about you?} • pac

pick a cher pic 🫶🏾

• pile one •

cards:

6 of swords

king of wands

the tower

3 of swords

the first thing that their higher self is coming through to mention is your voice. they find it extremely soothing, “like a brain massage” i’m hearing 😂. they also like how you seem to be able to find your way to peace and balance - especially mentally. i’m hearing “you seem to be so far ahead”. perhaps you’re achieving things in your life that most people your age haven’t yet. or you carry the demeanour of someone who has achieved a certain level of success. they find your forward-thinking nature extremely attractive. some of you have been around children around this person too, and they love how protective you are over young people. i’m seeing that they find it attractive when you soothe a child, or when you know what to say or do to calm a baby. that’s cute ☺️. in contrast, your assertiveness also does something to them. they like feeling lead by you. there’s also something flamboyant about you - if not your fashion sense then something about your personality. you seem to gain attention without even trying like that. i’m hearing “i want what i want”. when you demand things from them, it gets them a lil hot and bothered 👀😂 they feel like you don’t take a “no” from anyone very easily, and they love how you can trail-blaze through life and get what you want. there’s also something about your hair that attracts attention too. it could be big, fluffy, an afro, or a striking colour (like red). you just naturally stand out and they love it. you could have gained all of this assertiveness due to some really fucked up things happening in your life. you had to gain your strength and independence for yourself through so much pain and so many traumatic events. but your person admires how you’ve transformed your pain into power.

• pile two •

cards:

3 of wands

death

king of wands

this person finds your ambition to be one of your most attractive traits. you could be the type of person who’s constantly moving onto the next opportunity in your life, or taking risks and chances for the sake of self development. if you wear any headscarves or head-wraps, that’s also attractive to this person. and also if you have ginger hair. i’m hearing that it’s because these things aren’t commonly seen by this person. you guys could be from different races, cultures, or ethnicities to each other. i’m also seeing that whenever you want to do anything new and you take baby-steps towards learning something (like a skill), they enjoy seeing the way that you handle the process. and it seems like you naturally attract a lot of opportunities into your life for yourself too. i’m hearing “go getter”. they also love how multifaceted you are. they realise that they discover new layers of you every-time they see you or speak to you. they notice something different. they might also know about some really heavy transformations that you had to go through, and how you had to reinvent yourself. there’s also a message about knowing how to leave something that’s stagnant behind you for the sake of moving forward. it also seems like you’re very intense. they like how you’re not afraid to go deep, peel back layers to people’s personalities by asking questions - even if they sound a bit invasive at times. or you could do this with them in particular. you seem very bold and courageous. like you don’t really hold much fear in your decisions to dive deep with people or things. you also have a lot of self-confidence. this person might be able to tell that you’ve had to climb out of the gutter to become the person who you are today, and it wasn’t easy. therefore, you have a level of pride within yourself. that may be the thing that they’re not used to seeing in people. and they really like it, although it is triggering to them because it makes their ego feel threatened. it makes them recognise things about themselves that they never did before.

• pile three •

cards:

judgement

10 of swords

the hierophant

your person loves how much knowledge you have. you could be well-learned or well-cultured. just aware of what’s going on in the world, and they find your intelligence extremely attractive. especially related to anything about philosophy or spirituality. anything related to the expansion of the human mind. this could be an interest in psychology too. i’m also seeing your pleasure-seeking being extremely attractive to them. you guys give me sagittarius/jupiter energy. they feel like the way that you seek to create and mould your life into what you want it to be is extremely attractive. it’s like you’re constantly on journeys where you discover new layers of life, and when you share that with them and expand their mind, they can’t help but feel a type of way 😂. your person may have also seen you become aware of people who wanted to backstab you, or people who gossiped about you behind your back. there’s something about your intelligence related to being able to see other people’s negative intentions and betrayals as clearly as possible. also when you shut down a conversation with your knowledge or what you know. they live for that lmaoo. a lot of you are also very much in control of your life. you’re your own authority and you could reject a lot of the traditional responsibilities of life that society tries to push onto all of us. a lot of you in this pile also talk a lot about the beliefs that you hold in which the government is secretly trying to “harm” us - to put it lightly 🙃 - and your person finds that extremely fascinating. it’s like you can see above the conditionings and surface-level explanations for things that are presented to society. you’re definitely a free-thinker.

[val-cansalute]

PICKING UP THE ———- PIECES -———

ch. 6

ch. 1 ch. 2 ch.3 ch. 4 ch. 5

don’t be a piece of shit

cw - set in jackson with an unclear timeline, no mentions of joel or jj, kind of half proofread, profanities, depictions of mental illness, graphic situations, CUNNILINGUS 🤰, mdni

Seconds, which blur the line between moments and hours, drag by, yet breaths still come in sharp, ragged gasps.

Your chest still feels heavy, bearing the lingering weight of the memories that overwhelmed you, and the stale, dust-ridden air of your old home still churns maliciously within your rib cage though you’re far from it now. Nothing is proving helpful in satiating your ravenous lungs.

Her hand is already soothing tender circles into your back before you can register it and the violence of your inhale softens.

“Shimmer?” you repeat, words veiled by winded breaths.

“Yeah, that’s right,” like it’s second nature to her, Ellie moves her calloused hand so that it’s splayed across your thumping heart to gently ground you and the room stops spinning so frustratingly.

Your focus shifts to her touch, to the warmth that radiates from her palm.

“It’s kinda fuckin’ impressive you managed to go so long without learning any of their names,” as always, her voice is a quiet rasp, intimate and gentle as a smile plays at her chapped lips.

In contrast, your gaze is intense and, somehow, distant. It makes Ellie’s stomach twist with anxiety.

“Wasn’t planning on staying.”

“… Right. Well, you should probably learn them now.”

You’re back in Jackson – not in your home, but in Ellie’s decrepit hybrid shed, which somehow managed to outdo your actual house by miles.

What your home lacked, hers carried in abundance; warmth and soul, with pictures and posters scattered across the dulled walls and memories laced through the trinkets lining each shelf. It was alive with the force of her affection.

Coming back invited the questioning gaze of the townspeople, but your mind was too tired to pay it any mind, or to pay the fact that she was leading you away from your house any mind either.

“The place you went to... You used to live there? I, uh, saw a carving of your name and your brother’s, I think it was, in the fence. Soren, right?”

“Yeah… Me and Soren…”

“… Listen… Why did you do it? You didn’t wanna be there, I know that much. You were... fucked up, to say the least, when I found you. I don’t understand.”

“I don't know… I don’t want to be safe; I don’t deserve to be safe-”

Your heart beats sporadically at the sudden overbearing guilt inside you, the source of which you can’t trace back to a specific moment, and your breath hitches in your throat so you can't meet her worried eyes. There are so many actions you cannot justify at all, save for the fact that there was a massive remorseful compulsion to do it. For Soren, even though you know, deep down, he’d never have wanted this, you know you did it for him. You’ll never fully be able to explain why, or why you ended up going back with Ellie without argument.

“Hey, I'm here." her soothing voice cuts through the dense anxiousness in the air and, for a moment, the fog clears - the sight of her softened face, so endearing.

“It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Her eyes are so beautiful; it's so easy to forget what you were even thinking about when you dive into them.

"You- fuck- you know that’s stupid, right? Of course you deserve to be safe, y/n, how could you not deserve that?"

You’re a fraud. You had everyone fooled, thinking you had morals, but you can’t let her believe in a falsehood. The words burst out like rust-ridden water from a burst pipe; so explosively that she jerks back slightly, eyebrows knitted in worry.

"Because I’m bad person! You don’t know me, Ellie! I killed him! I fucking beat him to death! I am so fucking disgusting!"

"You-"

"Oh my god, Ellie, he was just a fucking kid! And he was terrified! Terrified of what would happen if he let the infection take over and terrified of hurting me! Fuck, and he begged me to do it before he turned, but I couldn't fucking do it! How could I?! And then I beat him to death as soon as he came for me, because I am a coward, and when it came down to it, all it took was a little scare for me to hurt him so fucking badly... God, Ellie, it didn’t have to be like that; it shouldn’t have fucking been like that but I’m so selfish… He was all I had left… Without him, I’m nothing… But I fucking deserve it. I deserve all the shit that comes my way. And I have to take it. All of it."

Somewhere amidst the fire, she grabs your shoulders and pulls you closer,

"Y/N, no. Deep down, you know that's not true. He was just a kid but -fucking- so were you! You were just a kid, and it's not fair that you had to fend for yourself! It's not fair that you and your brother had to live like this! It's not fair that he got infected, or that anyone did, and it is not your fault that your choice had the consequences it did when you were panicked and desperate and young. It is not your fault it happened the way it did. This world... Nothing about it is fair. Even though I can’t replace him, and I don’t know you as well as him, I care about you and I want to be around you. And I know for a fact that you are not a bad person, and I fucking know that. You are not a bad person. What happened back then was not evil, it was tragic, not evil. You can’t forget it, and you shouldn’t! But your brother would never want you to be stuck in this awful cycle. He would never blame you like this. Shit happens, we do things we regret and life doesn't go the way we plan, we lose people we love, but we move forward. We have to. And you are not alone, not while I’m here, you can never be."

Her words are harsh and sharp, to get through to you, nicking little chips at the edges of your iron-strong resolve. For the first time, you let yourself consider it, and the strength of your guilt’s hold loosens up just a bit.

Through pooling tears that threaten to fall and the lump that sits tight in your throat, you reach out your arms to bury your face into the warmth of her shoulder, and push your shaky, cracking voice out.

“I miss him so much… I can’t stop thing about it… I can’t stop feeling like this…”

Ellie immediately collects your draped body into a fervid hold, trying desperately to cling onto the rare openings you allow her.

“It’s gonna be okay. Just give yourself time. Everything’s gonna be okay, I promise you.”

6 MONTHS LATER

The Tipsy Bison’s doors are held wide open, but great gusts of wind are no match for the laughter, clinking of glasses and constant hum of conversation within.

Somewhere amongst the bundles of life, you are sat at a rickety table beside Ellie, Dina, and Jesse, and are fitting in like a puzzle piece beyond all capabilities of your imagination when you first arrived in Jackson.

Jesse’s eyes held fast to Dina, who’s head was thrown back in a wholehearted cackle over something relatively insignificant. You were all slumped in your chairs with great big grins, flushed faces and strands of hair clinging to your clammy necks, in high spirits.

Your heart feels full. For the first time, you can go out and laugh freely without the intense gaze of your overwhelming guilt or constant, racing thoughts of Soren. Panic attacks lie dormant for longer than you’d ever dreamed of.

Ellie’s gaze reaches you, and the way your heart swells with all-consuming affection is mutual. You can tell from the way she looks at you, all warm and admiring.

For a second, the sight of the people behind her falls away and you are the only people left in the room, in the world. Here, you are with people who care about you, want to be around you. Here, there is a sense of belonging that you hadn't felt in a long time.

After a moment, the pink-tinged apples of her cheeks fatten with a sincere, toothy grin, hazy eyes squinting as they flit down to her glass, and you notice that the number of people here has actually dwindled.

“Oh shit, everyone’s gone, I didn’t even realise.” Dina mumbled, scanning the room. Jesse lazily rose from his chair, stretching as he looked back at her,

“We should probably get going too, huh. I'll see you two tomorrow, then.” He nodded over to both of you before huddling together with Dina and drunkenly walking off.

You look back to Ellie; she’s leaning back in her chair, legs spread in a way that brings on certain feelings, raising her glass to her parted lips and her eyes never leave yours.

You watch her swallow the last traces of whiskey and set the glass down before tilting her head at you with a smirk. You’re both drunk, warm, fuzzy, tingly.

Her eyebrows raise before she gets up and leans over, and whispering,

“C’mon, babe,” into your ear.

As you stroll back, you’re met with the refreshing cool night air and you can’t help but feel a sense of contentment, hand in hand with Ellie, watching her ramble on. Your hushed giggles carry through the empty paths.

When you arrive at Ellie's place, stumbling through the door, you collapse onto her bed. This place has become more of a home than your real home; you’re almost never not spending the night. Among the clusters of trinkets and piles of clothes, your belongings have found a place, as well as the acrylic image of your face amidst her paintings.

Candlelight, the room is bathed in the soft orangey glow, casting shadows that dance and flicker across Ellie’s grinning face. You cling onto her dearly, intertwining your limbs with flushed cheeks and gazing up at her longingly, light and airy.

You settle into a comfortable silence with your bodies pressed against each other while she stares up down at her rough palm as you trace, with gentle and loving touches, the lines engraving it, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten.

She pecks your cheek,

“Are you sleepy?”

You look up at her with a sly smirk,

“No. Are you?”

“Nuh uh, you know what I’m thinking?”

“Oh, I know exactly what you’re thinking?”

You rise from your spot, nestled into her side, taking the hand you were playing with and entwining your fingers as you hover over her. The look on her face is mellow yet excited, her hands already reach out for your waist, already making your body feel hotter.

“You gonna show me, babe?”

She pulls you closer so you dive into the soft crook of her neck, sensitive with trails of tingling skin where you place kisses, desperate to feel the warmth her body emits, desperate for her to feel so incredibly real to you, for her to overwhelm your senses. You’ve never been infatuated quite like this before, never felt quite so comfortable with the love you hold for a person. But with Ellie, it’s simple, easy, comes naturally to you. She’s so many things, but, especially a sanctuary. A sanctuary weathered by the storms of your past but still standing firm.

“Mhmm, I’m gonna show you, Els.”

Ellie’s slumped at the head of her dingy bed.

Her body is bare and her muscles are tensing with each desperate, visceral movement, glowing with a thin sheen of sweat and slick,, as she kneads her fingers into the fat of your ass and meets your lips hungrily.

You hold onto her freckled face, looking down at her fucked out, beautiful eyes. They’re just begging for more after giving it to you for so long, consolidated by the sparkly feeling of her grinding up onto you,

“You’re so hot,”

“Oh, am I?” you mutter, pushing her back against the mattress and watching her eyes widen while chuckling to yourself,

“Wha- Alright, jesus fuck,”

You crawl off her lap with deliberate sexuality, pushing her legs apart abruptly. She clambers up onto her arms but you push her back, watching her tits bounce as she collapses,

“Shut up, El,”

“Oh, I see how it is, you aren’t fucking around anymore. No more mr nice guy, no funny busin-”

“Dude, fucking stop, you just, like, made me un-wet,”

“Oh shit, gotta get serious.”

You smack her thigh gently.

She grins and folds her arms behind her head, her eyes never leaving yours as you lower yourself in front of her pussy. Yours narrow ever so slightly when she grabs the back of your head and pushes it into your mouth, moaning at the contact of your lips with hers.

It gets you warm, placing a kiss filled with genuine love on her puffy clit before borderline making out with her pussy,

The sight of her eyes rolling back as her jaw goes slack has you begging for more, so you run your tongue up from her slit before lapping at it like you’re starved and watching her go cross-eyed from the sheer pleasure.

You can’t help but dip a finger a finger or two into her dripping hole, wanting nothing but to make her feel good, for her to come undone on you, slick smeared over your mouth, nose and chin, dripping lewdly down your palm.

You watch her body convulse, mattress cover clinging to her sweaty back as it arches up off the bed and her legs pull you in graciously.

You rest your head on her thigh and relish in the sight for a moment before she’s looking back into your eyes and urging you to come up so she can hold you, and also to stop breathing onto her clit because her “legs might spasm and strangle you or something,”

You laugh and lay your head down on her naked chest to hear her heart thump within her, in the tender embrace of the arms she holds out for you.

“Els?”

“Hmm?”

“Remind me to take those really fluffy socks I have home with me later. So much stuff is here now, I keep getting annoyed whenever Im actually home for once.”

“Sure, I can do that, if I don’t also forget.”

“Great.”

She lulls your eyes into a soft close with the feeling of her stroking your hair, and as she watches you exist, she realises she’d like to do that for longer. So, she leans into your ear and whispers,

“Hey, babe?”

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t you just… bring all your stuff to my place, you know, move in with me?”

You raise your head from her chest (she immediately misses the warmth) and meet her eyes, face slowly morphing into an adoring smile which she reflects, before placing a kiss on her forehead and then locking your lips with hers.

PLEASE READ

a/n - last chapterrrrrr ahdgstihaveahugepenisdtyf, banners by cafekitsune and saradika-graphics, my condolences to anyone who has read this bc i kinda hate it but thanks anyways. im not gonna write anything for a while after this (except for this one req thats been sitting in my drafts for an ungodly amount of time) because of the situation in palestine and the upcoming global strikes. i dont want to think abt a game made by a zionist who embedded zionist propaganda into it and donated money to israel most likely earned from the game. upwards of 30,000 palestinians, 11,000 of which were children, have been murdered by israel since october. yeah, for now, it’s only gonna be palestine-related posts. please, please do not buy the remaster, im begging you. its just a remaster, im pretty sure we can all go without it.

[ijbolz]

EUNSEOK — who won't take a shaky 'yes' as an answer, always leaving you on your own with your needy glistening cunt as he refuses to fuck you unless you consent clearly. and it won't do when you avoid eye contact, voice coming out softer than you expected, fingers fidgeting.

he's always giving you a soft kiss in return, chasing his lips as he pulls away. "that won't do baby," he coos, expecting you to tell him that you want it all with confidence. he believes you're capable of that and wants you to initiate without an ounce of regret in your voice. ultimately denying your claims about how he’s just playing hard to get, teasing you.

so he's surprised one night when you topple over him at the sofa, peppering him wet, desperate kisses all over. and you felt his body beneath his clothes, eyes almost teary as you whimper. "couldn't take it anymore, eunseok... help me please." he only cocks an eyebrow, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as he could almost coax what he wants out of you. "...want you to fuck me right now, come on."

eunseok sits up immediately, surprised at the way you’re suddenly acting to take the lead. a shiver runs up his spine when he felt your fingers ghost beneath his shirt, rushing to get him undressed until you pull off the last piece of fabric.

he wishes he could take a photo of your expression when you first laid your eyes on his cock, wondering if your initial shock was because of his size or your horniness. maybe both, but he just laughs beneath you as he laces his fingers with yours. "i got you baby," he whispers, ever so gently.

he buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent before he takes you off guard by sucking hard. "you're so adorable." his tongue peeks out in between his lips, making you whimper.

it’s not for long until he’s got you where he’s wanted you, so cute and pathetic underneath him. he’s still careful of course, starting off his thrusts with a slow pace until you start to feel the pleasure bleed through your nerves, almost begging him to fuck into you frantically.

his previous words were a contrast to the way you were writhing beneath him, wanting to ask what's so adorable with the way your legs are spread out, feeling your arousal dripping down your ass as he continues to fuck.

and your expression, oh your expression... pupils lost somewhere in the ceiling with your eyes half lidded. mouth parted with your lips all swollen from making out with him, he can't help but bite on 'em as he dives back in for a deep kiss, slipping his tongue inside.

drool so messy by the side of your lip, he doesn't even wipe it.

you're so gorgeous beneath him looking far too gone just with mere filthy thrusts of his cock getting sucked in by your desperate pussy. and he coos at the feeling of your hands clinging onto his broad back, nails almost digging into his skin, failing as you feel the pleasure course through your limbs, numbing you dumb.

and he asks why you’re suddenly biting your lip, brows furrowed in frustration. "wanna cum with you eunseok, wanna cum together." your eyes are all glazed over, inhaling sharply.

"so that's why you're holding it all in baby?" eunseok's voice is deep against your ear, vibrating in his chest flush against your own. and you nod at him, trying to choke out words throughout your hoarse moans.

"mhm-hm..." was all you could muster, his arms tight around you as he chuckles lowly, pace slowing down for a bit. "go ahead baby, cum right now if you can't help it anymore. no need to wait for me."

and you do, feeling your orgasm wash over you like a wave, legs shuddering around eunseok’s thighs. he’s cursing under his breath when he begins to struggle thrusting inside your poor cunt, pulsing all around him in a tight grip. you’re embarrassed from the way your hips seem to uncontrollably buck up against his, riding out your climax.

"there, there ... felt so good didn't you?” you nod back at him, mind cloudy in bliss.

"can i cum as well baby? my turn now alright?” and you didn't know what to expect until he's suddenly thrusting so hard and fast that you're crying out from overstimulation, legs withering from getting pushed over to the edge far too much, eyes shut tight. he's surprised you even managed to utter any words, burying his face deeper in the crook of your neck. "don't pull out please, please... want you to cum in me."

"got that baby, don't even need to ask me twice."

[hoony2k]

FIGHT CLUB

Summary: You discover why Sunghoon is always mia during the weekend so you decide to visit the sketchiest place in the city to see him in action- too bad Sunghoon has other plans.

PAIRING: Sunghoon x reader

GENRE: not so platonic friends, fight club au, fluff, crack,

WARNINGS: slight mentions of shady stuff, its a fight club au but I have never seen fight club, I yap a lot before sunghoon shows up, blond sunghoon, self indulgent, blond sunghoon, sunghoon.

WORD COUNT: 2.4k+

NOTE: hi everyone! lore : this was originally written for jeno but was banished in the dungeons until sunghoon dyed his hair and I felt things. This has been close to my heart for a long time and i really loved the idea more than the execution but hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

It's stupid. One of the stupidest ideas you've ever had in your life. Despite your last-minute planning and caution, it's still stupid, you weren't thinking ( you still aren't ) but you refuse to go back home without completing your mission, a simple "in and out" after you're done sightseeing. Before the stars decided it was your fate to go through this ordeal, Heesung said you deserve an award for being the "biggest idiot in the world" and you think he's right.

No one inclined towards their rational side would do this alone. Thank God love is blind.

So, here you stand, in a large room lit up by two dangling bulbs that sway due to the vibrations in the ceiling and three neon signs that cast the remaining dim light, staring at the rowdy crowd in front of you.

It's noisy, the crowd is bouncing like a single organism, blaring with cheers and screams, so loud you can't understand your thoughts and there's a constant ringing in your ears. It's the feeling you get when you dive into a cold pool and water licks your ears and blood rushes in your veins before you swim upwards and break the surface tension.

You take a deep breath to prepare yourself and mould into the pack of bodies. Immediately, your shirt feels too sticky, your body squirming as a reaction to the humid stuffy air and sweaty bodies around you.

Suddenly, you want to shrink to escape the uncomfortable, overstimulating sensations around you, everything is happening all at once. Or perhaps, going invisible would somehow cure the sense of isolation that spreads subtle fear in you, but you made your choice to enter alone in an unfamiliar environment when you ignored the beware signs plastered on the basement doors.

Your grip on the plastic cup hardens hand tremors along with the vibrations that are now flowing in the ground. Everything is far too shaky and you splash a bit of the drink onto your fingers. You have no idea what the drink is nor do you plan on taking a sip. It's just an accessory, an illusion to blend in and look casual. You think you're doing a great job at this despite your prior dilemma.

There's a man's voice bursting through the speakers, effectively hushing the noise in the large room, everyone waits silently, no one nudging or pushing anyone.

You think you're getting a whiplash at how the crowd's obedience contrasts with their anticipation and actions. The man's voice booms again, it echoes in the vast room, demanding attention.

"And now presenting, a young man who flew from Japan, Haruto!"

There are some cheers, barely a few people you can count on your fingers, someone in the crowd boos, and the rest stand uninterested in the Japanese boy, their eyes darting around, pretending to be nonchalant about their distaste for him. You almost feel bad.

The Japanese boy appears to be unaffected by the lack of enthusiasm. He checks the pale yellow bandages tied around his wrists and palms and flexes his fingers.

The announcer continues "In a raw battle against the fan favourite-"

Immediately, girls with artistic smokey makeup and intimidating smiles lose control and begin giggling and shouting in glee, their bright lips split to show their pearly teeth, and they nudge each other in a similar pattern. The crowd's enthusiasm returns tenfold and inch by inch, people begin levitating towards where Haruto stands as if placed under a spell. There are no ring ropes to stop them, hell, there isn't even a proper ring, only three large mats that look like they've witnessed multiple crimes.

"-the one and only, Park!"

Everyone in the room starts yelling and cheering louder than ever, and the announcer's voice dies under the noise- it's overwhelming, this sudden wave of ringing makes you dizzy and you almost regret coming here. But you're no coward, sure, you're way out of your comfort bubble and have ignored Heeseung's numerous warnings, but you're on a mission and you need the front seat. Not his fans or admirers, it has to be you watching Park throw fists and hopefully win.

You discard the full cup on a table nearby and once again begin to dig your way into the tightly packed crowd. It's worse than before due to people linking their arms like a giant human chain. Friends are glued together by the hip and you're scared someone's going to fall onto the large blue mat where the matches take place.

Nonetheless, you scoot past a man bulging with muscles, stacks of us dollars in a death grip while he yells loudly, spit flying everywhere. You wince and begin to move toward the left.

Why do people get so obsessed with these things?

You wonder if Sunghoon's already on the battlefield, fixing his bandages or mouthguard or whatever it is fighters do before a fight. You croak out a tiny " excuse me" as a tall girl harshly elbows you on accident. She merely glances at you with a tight-lipped smile and focuses her intention back onto the match uninterested in you. You wonder if she's looking at "Park".

Shoving the menacing thought away, you slowly force yourself towards the centre of the ring- or an excuse of a ring, just three worn-out mats placed next to each other, not even taped together. Had someone fallen mid-fight, they'd scrape their knee on the concrete.

The mats look too old, with lines engraved onto them from being used and the dark blue colour is faded on a few sides, leather ripped from previous matches. You think about how dirty and unhygienic it would be to come in contact with it, forget the ground.

Then again, nothing in this place says clean, it's a sketchy room in a sketchy alleyway that's locked up by a fenced door. In the morning, it's got two men always surrounding it. Everything is dark, posters of advertisements- some ripped- and graffiti linger on the walls and you're sure that the group next to the 'out of order' washroom is high.

This isn't a place you would ever come to, but desperate times (falling in love) can change people so here you stand. With only two people blocking you from seeing Park you curse at your height, but ambition runs in your veins. You slither between more disgustingly warm bodies until-

There's an unignorable sensation of being choked as someone pulls the hood of your sweatshirt and you're being yanked backwards. The wind successfully knocked out of you and whoever is behind you is slowly pulling you back into the crowd, their grip isn't loosening any time soon and you can feel your lungs about to explode. You wave your arms around but no one spares a glance, they're happy to occupy the vacant space you left.

Finally being pulled out of the crowd gelled together, your vision blurs when you're roughly turned out to lock your eyes on the culprit who glares at you with thick furrowed brows.

Before you stands Park Sunghoon.

If you couldn't breathe before, you're suffering from asphyxiation right now. Your arms feel like they weigh a ton, lungs seconds away from collapsing.

His eyes bore into yours, yet something was so sickeningly sweet about them, raw honey-brown eyes that held the secrets to the entire galaxy. They gaze into your pair, his gentle eyes have swirls of anger in them but wait-

There's a ringing in your head that sounds like Heeseung saying "I wish I never introduced Sunghoon to you" and you shove it away.

That's not it though, when you finally break contact and have a good look at the boy you realise, to your horror, that his hair is no longer silky black that you've grown to love.

Blond.

Sunghoon is blond.

Park Sunghoon is blond.

This is it, this is how you die. The purple and pink neon light cast a glow on his sculptured face and God, you think, he's heavenly. What a perfect way to die. His skin effortlessly glows, the gentle slope of his nose curves ever so elegantly and the tips of plush pink his lips curl upwards. The beauty marks decorating his face like glitter are shining. He's truly a sight for sour eyes.

Unlike his gentle eyes that glare, the first words that tumble out of his moisturised lips are,

" Sorry for being so harsh. The girls would have pushed you onto the mat. They kind of love that Park guy."

Your brain finally begins to restart and has two epiphanies at the same time, one, the fan favourite ' Park' is not your Park Sunghoon but a random guy Park that you suddenly don't care about anymore and that the unfortunate soul you were thinking about a few minutes ago could have been you. Your sly mission is a failure because you were not sneaky in the slightest and also because you could have gotten injured.

Sunghoon is an angel that God blessed you with you conclude.

Noticing your silent manner, Sunghoon mistakes it for hidden anger, fumbles with his slender hands and repeats "I'm really sorry for being so harsh."

You want to tell him that you forgave him the moment he dyed his hair blond but you don't want to come off too strong. You also realise that endangering your life by coming into a disturbingly dark neighbourhood that had abandoned buildings, neon as the only source of light and rowdy people, with no friends or plan and a phone with 20% battery was worth it. No matter how utterly stupid your plan was, the love of your life stands before you.

You quickly respond, moving your hands around casually and letting a simple smile show, " No! I'm good. I come here a lot!"

Your response is too happy and too quick and you pray he lets go of your lie.

He quirks a strong brow upwards and you can feel your mind going haywire. His voice is raspy but somehow so so silky you want to drown in it. Mirth glittering in his eyes, willing to let you play your game.

"I come here all the time. Pity how I never saw you."

You awkwardly move your hands around again and exhale through your nose. Trying to brush off his comment as if it didn't mean much.

'"It's-I…I came back after a long time. Yea."

Sunghoon snorts at your reply, nose crinkling, " And that's why you looked like you were going to jump straight into the match?"

An angry blush explodes on your face and before you can scramble to lie a bit more, he continues by asking.

" Are you here to watch Park?"

His tone has changed, he sounds like he's trying not to be nosy but like you, he fails.

A match made in heaven.

You sigh solemnly and decide to let the cat out of the bag, there's no use in continuing your lies, it's respectful of him to not embarrass you or call you out and maybe your heart feels weaker than before.

Amid preparation, you look down at your worn-out tennis shoes, they've got mud from when you walked too fast down the stairs.

" No. I came to watch you. I thought Park was you, Park Sunghoon" You confess, still unable to meet his eyes.

Sunghoon looks genuinely surprised by the response and his reaction confuses you. His forehead creases and he tries to hide how swiftly his eyes widen with a fake cough. He rolls his shoulders back and shrugs casually as a reply to your statement. You don't follow what he means.

Then, as quickly as it conceals his vulnerability, Sunghoon lets go of his cool act and relaxes his guard but still, the shock and relief sends waves in your body. Somewhere in the conversation, the noise around you two has become muffled and practically non-existent.

His dark brows pinch together, nose scrunched upwards and mouth open in a small oval. He leans closer to speak but quickly closes his mouth as if he's debating whether his next words will offend you. He looks around and shoves his pretty hands into his blue jeans.

"You realise there are other Parks right?"

He sounds incredibly smug but his expression remains neutral, hesitance in his shaky eyes. There's no way this is the same man who brings hell on the dirty ring.

You weakly argue back with a quiet "Shut up." And he laughs at your flustered state. You want to whip out your phone and record it but you felt your phone buzz a while ago which means it's dead.

Sunghoon looks around again, his right hand appearing to push his blond hair back, bringing the expanse of his forehead under the pink hues. He turns to gaze upon you, half-lidded eyes that stare into your soul and cause a shiver up your spine.

"Since I'm the Park you're looking for, wanna get out of here and eat? My treat."

He sounds confident, tone so velvety. You find yourself instantly agreeing automatically, head nodding before you verbally agree.

The reaction is immediate, Sunghoon's lips stretch to smile at you, dimple peeking. Adoring his pretty smile you can feel the world move beneath your feet.

In the end, it didn't matter if you weren't able to shift into a fly and flutter close to the match or if your lack of comprehension skills made you risk your life for the wrong Park. The Park of your dreams is right there, arm outstretched with his hand waiting to cradle yours. None of the cons or "what ifs" matter anymore. It doesn't matter if he sees how you thread the carefully mapped-out line of so-called friendship. It doesn't matter how he fights the urge to scold you for ignoring his caution to specifically avoid this area. It doesn't matter if you don't question why he spends most weekends here, doing who knows what, for reasons unknown to you and his friends.

What matters is the moment at hand, how right now you and the love of your life are going to escape the crowd and spend an evening enjoying the company of one another.

Outside, the sky is dark and clear as you left it and Park Sunghoon is a huge star that drapes itself around the blanket night sky.

He burns bright no matter where he is. He finds you no matter where you go, and your path always leads to his. Just how it was destined to be.

thank you for reading!

please do not edit/translate/copy the work. all ideas are original.