#first rendered piece in months

[owlarchivist]

FISHIES!!!

[adxmanial]

I'm just coming in and taking what's mine load the 45, they're paying the price

[veveisveryuncool]

finally back home after a long battle..

kirbytober day 1: together again/friendship

[fendissxc]

[skipblebee]

You will never guess who binge watched Bungo Stray Dogs

[gompereatsall]

this is my submission for @totaled-drama's art contest! i wanted to draw scott and dawn because i love them a lot more than the first time i've been into td. and what better thing to draw them ith than animals! so they're at scott's farm with a pig. listen. im not that proud of this piece but i did what i could!!

[nmtltlz]

New commission sheets :) message me if youre interested!

Totally willing to discuss prices in messages! The prices on the left are assuming fully rendered images! Sketches would be around half that ($10/15/25)! I do all types of art and have experience in all types of subjects :)!

Reblogs are suuuper appreciated and i would adore the opportunity to make new art and get paid for it

I promise i wont disappoint :)!!

[cae-ruleam]

spiritual redraw of this piece from last year! which was also my first bigger dp piece :]

[azidoazide-art]

monochrome OC warmup pieces from this month!

[nigft]

I would give you some violets, but they all withered when my father died.

[vladimpale]

'suga? what? psh, nah, i dont have a crush on her, what are you talking about, shes my friend!'

[eighttones]

it's december already? damn

[vetyr]

hi, i ireally love your work and i don't know if you've answered this before but, what kinds of studies do you do or how did you learn color theory? i wanna get better at rendering and anatomy but im having trouble TT TT

Hi! Long answer alert. Once a chatterbox, always a chatterbox.

When I started actively learning how to draw about 10 1/2 years ago, I exclusively did graphite studies in sketchbooks. Here's a few examples—I mostly stuck to doing line drawings to drill basic shapes/contours and proportions into my brain. The more rendered sketches helped me practice edge control & basic values, and they were REALLY good for learning the actual 3D structure behind what I was drawing.

I'd use reference images that I grabbed from fitness forums, Instagram, Tumblr, Pinterest, and some NSFW places, but you could find adequate ref material from figure drawing sites like Line of Action. LoA has refs for people (you can filter by clothed/unclothed, age, & gender), animals, expressions, hands/feet, and a few other useful things as well. Love them.

Learning how to render digitally was a similar story; it helped a lot that I had a pretty strong foundation for value/anatomy going in. I basically didn't touch color at all for ~2 years (except for a few attempts at bad digital or acrylic paint studies), which may not have been the best idea. I learned color from a lot of trial and error, honestly, and I'm pretty sure this process involved a lot of imitation—there were a number of digital/traditional painters whose styles I really wanted to emulate (notably their edge control, color choices, value distributions, and shape design), so I kiiind of did a mixture of that + my own experimentation.

For example, I really found Benjamin Björklund's style appealing, especially his softened/lost edges & vibrant pops of saturated color, so here's a study I did from some photograph that I'm *pretty* sure was painted with him in mind.

Learning how to detail was definitely a slow process, and like all the aforementioned things (anatomy/color/edge control/values/etc.) I'm still figuring it out. Focusing on edge control first (that is, deciding on where to place hard/soft edges for emphasizing/de-emphasizing certain areas of the image) is super useful, because you can honestly fool a viewer into thinking there's more detail in a piece than there actually is if you're very economical about where you place your hard edges.

The most important part, to me, is probably just doing this stuff over and over again. You're likely not going to see improvement in a few weeks or even a few months, so don't fret about not getting the exact results you want and just keep studying + making art. I like to think about learning art as a process where you *need* to fail and make crappy art/studies—there's literally no way around it—so you might as well fail right now. See, by making bad art you're actually moving forward—isn't that a fun prospect!!

It's useful to have a folder with art you admire, especially if you can dissect the pieces and understand why you like them so much. You can study those aspects (like, you can redraw or repaint that person's work) and break down whether this is art that you just like to look at, or if it's the kind of art that you want to *make.* There's a LOT of art out there that I love looking at, probably tens of thousands of styles/mediums, but there's a very narrow range that I want to make myself.

I've mentioned it in some ask reply in the past, but I really do think looking at other artist's work is such a cheat code for improving your own skills—the other artist does the work to filter reality/ideas for you, and this sort of allows you to contact the subject matter more directly. I can think of so many examples where an artist I admired exaggerated, like, the way sunlight rested on a face and created that orange fringe around its edge, or the greys/dull blues in a wheat field, or the bright indigo in a cast shadow, or the red along the outside of a person's eye, and it just clicked for me that this was a very available & observable aspect of reality, which had up until that point gone completely unnoticed! If you're really perceptive about the art you look at, it's shocking how much it can teach you about how to see the world (in this particular case I mean this literally, in that the art I looked at fully changed the way I visually processed the world, but of course it has had a strong effect on my worldviews/relationships/beliefs).

Thanks so much for sending in a question (& for reading, if you got this far)! I read every single ask I receive, including the kind words & compliments, which I genuinely always appreciate. Best of luck with learning, my friend :)

[noearchives]

sober me up

(what happens when the one piece boys are drunk?)

characters: portgas d. ace, trafalgar d. water law, sanji.

note: personally i've never been drunk enough to the point where i lose my mind or anything like that ... so this is just based off of my imagination and stuff i see in movies ;;

cw/ tags: gender neutral reader, mentions of alcohol, unestablished relationship, mutual pining.

portgas d. ace

"woah,” ace whispers, head tilted to one side as he looks at you through half-lidded eyes, saying your name in the same way he did when he met you for the first time.“is that really you?”

you're not sure if he’s putting up an act to flirt, or if he’s actually so drunk to the point where he can’t tell his imagination from reality. not knowing how to reply, you hand him a glass of water in a fluster in hopes that he’ll sober up, and he downs the entire thing in one go, mistaking it for liquor.

“wow,” ace says again, awestruck. it’s like his eyes are put in a spell to look at nothing else but you. his reaches for your face, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. nonsense runs off his tongue as he stumbles deep into your gaze in spirals. “you're so pretty i could kiss you.”

he pauses. “can i?”

fuck it, you think. he’s drunk out of his mind, you're tipsy enough to use it as an excuse. it won't hurt if you kissed your best friend who you’ve been pining for since the dawn of time when he won't even remember anything the day after, right?

so you agree to his request, and ace wastes no time with how quickly he slides his tongue into your mouth just after two seconds of his lips meeting yours— it’s like he doesn't want you to breathe.

when he finally lets go of you, you gasp like a fish out of water while he looks at you stupidly. his mind is filled with you, you, you. one kiss isn't enough to satisfy him— he’s been dreaming of this for months, afterall. with both hands on either side of your face, he makes a bold statement once again.

“let’s do that again.”

trafalgar d. water law

law doesn't drink much, but he can't say no to his crew when they offer. initially, he planned to stay sober for the rest of the night to look after all of you, but as shachi and penguin continue to pour him drink after drink, his head grows heavier with every sip of liquor.

he stays quiet even when he’s drunk. no bold confessions, no impulsive acts, nothing. he just watches his crew drink themselves stupid, the faintest hint of a smile at the corner of his lips.

with the loud hustle of the bar and the deafening laughter of your crewmates, it’s hard to notice how intoxicated law has become until you feel a foreign weight on your shoulder. a white fur hat lands on your lap, and you only realise your captain’s resting his head on you with his eyes closed then.

“captain?” you say. your heart’s beating out of your chest. “captain, you're drunk.”

“i know.” he mumbles in reply, looking silly with his cheek squished against your shoulder.

“let me get you some water.” you try to move out of your seat, but your body doesn't budge. law’s arm holds you down firmly, and you feel the skin under his touch tingle. “captain," you say again, weaker this time. you're not sure if your lungs are working properly with how he's rendered you breathless. "you've gotta let me go," you say, betraying your heart.

"no," law mumbles against you. his hold on you tightens, and you swear he's nuzzling into your neck.

at that point, you decide that he's had one too many and that he needs to be sobered up or else he'd be in a sour mood the morning after. you awkwardly prop his arm on your shoulders as you drag him back to the polar tang with the knowing gazes of your crewmates on your backs, your captain's hat in your hand as you strain to support his weight.

"ah, young love." penguin sighs.

sanji

being an absolute lightweight, sanji's already swaying with his tie off and a few buttons undone after two shots.

"oh, my love." he sing-songs. my love? you raise an eyebrow at the nickname. "the way you look at me makes my stomach flip. your eyes are brighter than the stars, and the way you say my name tugs at my heartstrings. would you make a poor man like me happy by just looking his way?" he rambles, freestyling a verbal love letter for you right then and there. you've heard him do the same for robin and nami, but never for you. (until now, of course.)

the crew's swordsman physically cringes in second-hand embarrassment. "curly, do all of us a favor and shut that mouth of yours."

miraculously, sanji doesn't retort like he usually does. instead, he takes your hand in his as he continues his weird love poem. "if only this wasn't a dream, and i had the courage to confess my love for you in the real world. alas!"

... and he starts crying. actual tears rolling down his cheeks and everything. "but i know you would never love a pathetic man like me!" he sobs into your lap, kneeling before you as your ship's navigator averts her gaze out of embarrassment, grumbling about how her efforts of keeping his secret are wasted.

though ridiculously stupid, his confession made your heart stop. after all this time, it turns out that he's equally as smitten as you are when you thought his heart belonged to someone else. (it's hard not to assume with the way he behaves around good-looking women.)

"why did nobody tell me...?" you ask, looking around as the strawhats look away with a supressed grin.

"because he said he'll kick our asses if any of us said anything. geez, both of you are so stupid. can't you see the way he makes those disgusting heart eyes at you every time you pass by?" the swordsman grumbles.

sanji's arms are still tightly wrapped around your waist after he's done with his improv love poem. "you're so warm, even in my dreams..." he mumbles. it seems like he still hasn't realized this isn't a dream.

the two of you are going to have a looooong talk when he sobers up, you're sure.

[cillianmurphyygf]

i think i'm in love with you

ꕥ luke castellan x afab!reader

warnings: descriptions of wounds + blood, allusions to sex but no actual smut, shitty writing (i havent wrote a fanfic in multiple years), not proofread cuz im way too lazy, (y/n) isn't used at all in this idk i almost like reading fanfic better without it

summary: you wake up in the middle of the night to strange noises. you find luke outside, with a deep wound in his side. you take him to the lake to take care of him. unfortunately for you, luke's in a teasing mood.

word count: 2.7k

You awoke suddenly to strange noises. Soft groans fell through the walls of your cabin. At first, you assumed it to be something you should be careful not to walk in on. But, as your head cleared up more as you fully woke up, it sounded more like someone who was in pain. 

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you slowly pulled the covers off of your body and stepped into a pair of soft slippers. You carefully weaved through the various beds in the dark towards the door. The groans continued, rendering you more concerned and nervous. You quietly eased the door open, wincing at every squeak it made. You peeked your head outside, searching for the source of the noise.

Through squinted eyes, your attention eventually landed on a certain Hermes boy laid down in the grass. Luke. You quickly shut the door, completely forgetting about keeping quiet, and tip-toe ran across the grass towards the boy. You and Luke had been friends for quite a while. You arrived at camp a month or so after him, and he was the most welcoming one there. While you remained unclaimed in the Hermes cabin for a few months, it didn’t really hurt as much while you were with Luke. He was the perfect distraction and a great friend, although you had begun to wish for something more.

“Luke!” You whisper yelled, causing him to practically jump a foot off the ground. Looking towards the startling voice, he realized it was you. He quickly sat up, his hand placed on his chest as he tried his best to calm his suddenly erratic breathing.

“Oh, thank gods, it’s just you,” he laughed breathlessly, suddenly wincing and placing his hand on his side. His flushed face turned down toward his wound before he threw his head back again, hissing in pain.

“What happened?!” You exclaimed in a panic, running to close the last piece of distance between you both. You quickly fell to your knees next to him, trying to get a good look at whatever was hidden underneath his hand. He attempted to laugh it off but immediately winced and groaned. His hand remained on his side, hiding whatever had happened. “Luke I’ve gotta see..” you tried.

“I’m fine,” he responded, dismissively. He gave you a tightlipped smile in an attempt to reassure you. It did quite the opposite. You reached your hand to pull his away from his side.

“You’re not fine Luke-” His free hand grasped your wrist tightly, preventing you from moving yours any closer to his wound. You stayed silent and unstill, unsure of the situation. In your moment of stillness, your eyes raked over his hand wrapped tightly around yours. The veins in his hand and forearm looked so perfect, especially under the soft moonlight. You wondered what his hand would look like wrapped around your-

“Hey!” Luke snapped his fingers in front of your face, trying to regain your attention.

“Huh?” You responded, clueless and still in a daze, your eyes stuck on his hand around yours. You could have sworn you saw a sly smirk adorn his face from the corner of your eye but you brushed it off. You were tired, you were probably just seeing things. You snapped out of your trance, looking back at his face, confused about everything. “Luke, you’ve gotta let me help you-”

“Princess, I-”

“I have no idea what you did or what happened to you, but I’m worried and you’re being so confusing right now..” You trailed off, avoiding his eyes for a moment. Princess. You hated (loved) when he used that nickname for you. It gave you hope that he could ever feel the same way about you. You heard Luke sigh.

“Okay, I just got in a bit of a fight with an Ares kid.. he pulled a knife on me, got me in the side.. I was clumsy, made a mistake,” he removed his hand from your wrist, prompting you to reconnect your eye contact. “I’m fine and I’ll be more careful next time.” He smiled, trying to dismiss your worries yet again.

“Can you show me?” You asked tentatively. He looked at you and nodded. You noticed that same smirk from earlier, only softer and more hidden. Maybe you hadn’t been imagining things. You watched his hand reach down to the hem of his shirt. Oh shit. You had not thought about that. You internally facepalmed. You were so fucked. His fingers wrapped around the bottom seam of his shirt as he pulled it up about halfway. Your eyes immediately darted to his wound. A seemingly deep gash ran from about the bottom of his ribs to the top of his pelvis. Blood trickled along his already blood covered skin. Oh it looked bad. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, a nervous habit. 

As you examined the bloody gash, your eyes had other ideas. Your gaze slowly moved on to take in his toned abdomen. He had nice abs, prominent, but not so much like those crazy American bodybuilders. They gave you the creeps. His were just the perfect shape, size, and.. everything about him was perfect. While his side was doused in his own blood, the rest of his abdomen was covered in scattered beads of sweat. He looked good. Like really good. Luke’s sharp intake of breath broke you out of your trance. You quickly cleared your throat, hoping he hadn’t noticed you had been examining the rest of his body instead of his injury. 

“I’d ask if you like what you see but.. I’m in a bit of a predicament currently.” Luke chuckled, referring to the bloody gash. Your face flushed red. Shit, he noticed. You fumbled over your words, trying to form a coherent sentence. He watched you, amused, but still very evidently in pain. You abruptly stood up, offering Luke your hand.

“You got a kit or something I can use?” You asked as you carefully pulled him to his feet. His arm landed to rest over your shoulders. You felt the breath leave your body. He was so close. His body heat radiated heavily onto your already heated body. You hoped he couldn’t feel how hot you are, or how loud and hard your heart was beating. His quiet groan brought you back to your senses.

“Yeah I’ve got a kit hidden in the trees near the beach.” He finally answered. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Why.. there?” You asked, genuinely confused. Luke looked down at you as if you should have already known.

“For times like these.” He replied, as if it were obvious. You just shrugged and let him slowly lead you to the beach. The trek through the grass proved a lot more difficult than you had expected. Random bumps and holes in the dirt caused you both to almost fall multiple times.

“Here,” Luke spoke and pointed a few feet in front of you. You nodded and slowly lowered him to the ground, leaning him against the tree. Your hands rummaged and dug through the dirt in search of Luke’s medical kit. Your fingernail eventually scratched along a hard, plastic surface. You dug your hands further into the dirt to pull the case out of the ground.

“I got it!” You sighed in relief. Your hands were becoming increasingly tired from all of the digging. You sat next to Luke, opening the latches of the small box. He smiled at you, watching your every move, completely mesmerized by you. You grabbed the small bottle of rubbing alcohol and popped it open. You opened your mouth to speak, looking up at Luke, only to find him already looking back at you. You quickly looked away, your face flushing a deep crimson. You took a deep breath before allowing yourself to actually speak.

“I’m gonna need you to hold your shirt up above the cut, if you’re comfortable.” You looked back up at Luke, nervously waiting for his response. You shouldn’t have been that nervous, you were just tending to his wound, nothing else. But still, the idea of asking him to lift up his shirt and reveal his really nice abdomen embarrassed you a lot.

“Yeah of course.” He replied in a suddenly husky, low voice. It caught you off guard, causing even more heat to rush to your cheeks.. and to the spot between your legs. He grasped the hem of his orange shirt and pulled it up, revealing the wound again.

“Okay.. this is gonna hurt, but I’ve gotta clean it out somehow.” You warned, slowly starting to pour the rubbing alcohol over the cut. Luke nodded in acknowledgement, hissing immediately as the strong liquid hit his skin. You hadn’t really treated all too many wounds in your lifetime, let alone a cut as deep and bloody as this one. You hoped you were doing it right and you weren’t making it worse. Luke’s harsh groans and hisses weren’t aiding your stressed mind. Throughout the few minutes you spent drenching his side in rubbing alcohol, you noticed him drop his shirt a few times, muttering apologies, saying his hands were having trouble keeping it up. You brushed it off each and every time it happened. 

Once you finally deemed it enough rubbing alcohol, you moved away from his abdomen, grabbing the cap of the bottle. Your shaky hands tried closing the bottle but to no avail. You were stressed and embarrassed, and your entire body was shaking way too much. Luke’s warm hands grasped yours.

“Hey,” He whispered, grabbing your attention. You looked up at him. “I’ve got it.” He smiled at you, and carefully took the bottle from your palms to close it himself. You whispered your thanks under your breath, so quiet, you almost couldn’t hear it yourself. You reached back into the medical kit to pull out a cloth and an antiseptic wipe. You placed your hand on Luke’s cheek. Red slowly started to creep up his neck and into his cheeks, unbeknownst to you.

“I’ll be right back, I’m just gonna wet the cloth.” You told him, smiling and standing up. 

“You’re too good to me.” Luke said, in that low voice, again. You turned quickly to hide your blush, making your way to the shore, as quick as you could. You dipped the cloth in the cold water and rung it out. You jogged back to Luke at the tree, dropping back onto your knees next to him. You lightly dabbed the cloth around his cut, trying to pick up and clean up the blood all over him. You did your best to avoid pressing into the actual cut, but failed a few times. Luke tried his best to keep his cool, but you could see how much he was hurting. You felt awful. 

Occasionally, Luke would let the hem of his shirt slip out of his hands, obscuring your cleaning abilities. He would apologize profusely, telling you he had no idea why it kept happening. When you would shrug and go back to cleaning the blood, a smug smile would pull at his lips. You were so clueless.

You continued to clean the excess blood off of Luke’s body. His shirt would drop every couple minutes. He would apologize, and you would get back to work. This went on for a little over ten minutes.

You placed the cloth at your side, actually proud of what you had got done so far. You had managed to clean up the majority of the blood from his cut, and it was looking a lot better now. All that was left for now was to wrap it up and then send him for Ambrosia to finish the healing process. 

As you grabbed the roll of bandage from the box, you watched Luke drop his shirt yet again. He sighed dramatically and threw his hands up in defeat.

“I just can’t keep my shirt up. Guess I’m just gonna have to take the whole thing off.” He sighed and grabbed the hem, pulling it up and over his head. You were practically drooling as you watched. The way his muscles flexed when he ripped his shirt off.. it was so.. hot. You could now see his entire toned abdomen, and his chest. Your face was surely beet red at this point. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. 

You had no idea in your trance, but Luke was watching the way you looked at him, a smug smile adorning his perfect face. He loved the way you reacted to his body. He thought you were the cutest thing. It was fun to see you all flustered like this. Eventually, by some miracle you were able to pull your eyes away from Luke’s body to focus on bandaging him up. You hastily unraveled the thin cloth, trying to ignore the burning feeling of Luke’s eyes on you, watching your every move. 

You leaned over his body, trying to reach to start the wrapping. It turned out to be really difficult, as you could barely reach. You sat back and sat there for a moment, trying to clear your head and figure out your next plan of action.

“I’m not sure how I’m gonna..” You admitted quietly, embarrassed. Luke looked up at you with a very clear and obvious smirk on his face. This worried you. You had no idea what he was planning, and you did not want to make a fool of yourself. 

To your immense surprise, Luke’s hands grabbed onto your hips and lifted you off the ground, making you squeal. He sat you down on his lap, in a straddle position. You were so close. Too close. The embarrassingly warm area between your legs sat right over his. You prayed and prayed he couldn’t feel it. You would never live it down.

“That’ll do it.” Luke smiled and pat your thigh encouragingly, causing you to let out a sharp squeak. You gulped and tried to focus on the bandage again. Your shaky hands brought the edge of the bandage to his back as you wrapped it around his torso, multiple times over. You wrapped it tight, but not too tight as to suffocate Luke.

Although, at that point it wouldn’t have mattered. Luke was completely focused on making you a flustered mess. The intense pain he was in was in the very back of his mind. He could barely feel it at this point. He was having way too much fun with you.

After the most painfully long two minutes of your life, you had finally finished wrapping Luke up. You let out a huge breath you didn’t know you were holding, feeling a weight drop off of your shoulders. You had never felt so stressed and embarrassed in your life. You hoped your work would hold up well and you had done it right.

Luke’s arms wrapped around your torso, pulling you in even closer. His nose brushed against yours as he looked up at you through heavy-lidded eyes.

“Thanks for your help,” he whispered in his gravelly voice. He leaned in even closer. “Means a lot.” He mumbled, almost against your lips. Your heart rate was through the roof. He was so close. So close you could kiss him. You could feel his breath mingling with yours. The warmth between your legs only continued to grow now. Luke chuckled lowly, watching the thoughts flow through your mind.

Luke moved his lips ever closer to yours. Dropping to a deep whisper, he spoke again. “I think.. I’m in love with you..” His lips moved slowly to capture yours. Your eyes widened, before you closed them, easing into his kiss. 

Your lips moved in perfect unison, as if made for eachother. Your hands moved to grip his dark curls. You softly pulled, feeling him moan into your mouth. Luke pulled away, moving his lips to your neck. Nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. He was sure to leave many marks on your delicate skin.

“I-” You were cut off by your own moans as Luke’s hands moved to rest on your breasts while his kisses along your neck became harsher. He slowly pulled away from your neck, keeping his hands on your chest.

“What were you gonna say, baby?”

“I.. love you as well.” You replied, breathless. Luke smirked, crashing his lips into yours again.

[babyyhoneyyy]

I wanna kiss your neck H.S (pt.3)

He didn’t let up on the kisses, not when her hands held the side of his neck, not when he stroked her cheeks. “And you know I love you so, so much, right?”

”Uh-huh.”

She wasn’t able to get any more words in since he was kissing her so eagerly, and Y/N had to tug him from his hair as her head finally cleared. “You really fucking hurt me, Harry. I feel— felt so used.” Harry’s eyebrows came together downturned, like he was so saddened by her confession. Y/N almost thought he would cry when he swooped his thumbs under her eyes.

“I know, and I’m so sorry, baby,” he said softly, “let me make it up to you? I feel terrible.”

Or,

Part 3 to the one where Y/N and Harry are best friends, but they’ve crossed a big, fat line that says otherwise.

part 1

part 2

word count: 5k+

content warning: mature!! minors please dni!!

Harry called Y/N the next day like everything was normal. Like her entire sense of self-respect wasn’t torn into pieces. Like he didn't rip her heart from her throat and laughed tauntingly at the weak, pulsing muscle. She was dumbfounded on the other end of the phone, trying to keep her composure so she didn’t burst into tears.

In direct contrast to her, he was chirpy and enthusiastic, asking her if they could meet at her house to try out the new cafe they had been eyeing for the past month or so. Of course, Y/N lied and told him she was unwell. The fact of the matter was that she was perfectly fine— still walking, talking, eating and breathing like normal.

Except there was this hole in her chest, gaping and wounded, frayed at the edges which ached every waking second of the day. She hadn’t been able to think straight ever since Harry left her cold and freshly-fucked in her apartment the night before.

After his departure, she scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed her body in the shower until it was red and raw; even then it was like she could feel his lingering touches and wet kisses against her skin. The thought of them disgusted her to no end. All she could see in the mirror were the bruises he left behind, the ones she wore on her neck, her hips. Blossoms on her skin that did nothing but remind her of how used she felt.

So she avoided her reflection and went about her day with her head low, afraid to catch a glimpse of herself in any reflective surface in her home. No matter how much she tried to convince herself that her Harry wouldn’t do such a thing, the image of the pretty brunette and Harry’s kiss against her temple flashed in front of her eyes and rendered her hopeless.

There weren’t a lot of people with whom one would take such an intimate photo with. Maybe with a mother, a sister, a cousin, a best friend.

But she knew the girl wasn’t any of those, and a terrible prickly possibility contaminated Y/N’s clouded mind; what if it was a lover?

A lover of whom she had no idea. A lover of whom her best friend never bothered to tell her of. A lover whom he lied about.

A lover whom he probably went home to right after fucking her.

For two weeks Y/N let her exhausted brain work itself to a number of conclusions— overthinking and overthinking and overthinking. A grey cloud loomed over her head wherever she went, covered head-to-toe in the most modest of sweaters and thickest of scarves to cover her story-telling skin. She felt terrible, a weight settling on her chest which consisted not only of his lies and deceit, but of the gnawing reminder that she really fucking loved him.

Harry was her best friend; the boy she grew up with, the one she shared all her secrets with, the one who knew of all her firsts, the one who was loved by all of her family, the one who she spent every birthday and every Christmas with. She could dislike him and she could be mad at him, but she could never hate him.

That’s why when he showed up at her door the following Saturday evening, she took a deep breath, threw away all the tear-stained tissues that littered her coffee table and let him in. A hundred red flags and alarms blared in her head telling her that anything would be better than confronting him right now, but she ignored them all because there was a part of her that yearned to be with him. To talk to him and confide in him.

She was already ignoring all of his texts and letting his calls go to voicemail. All she told him was that she wasn’t feeling well and whatever she had was contagious. Just staring at his words on her screen was enough to have her gut wrenching; texts like are you feeling better? and i miss you when can we hang out again littered their chats, unanswered.

Somehow seeing him appear at her doorstep after so long was a million times worse— he had a frown on his face and his hair was pulled back in a bun. He was dressed in basic grey sweats and a black top and he didn’t bother saying anything as he strolled right into her home with his lip pinched between his fingers. “Why are you avoiding me?”

She was well-aware of her tattered state and his question threw her right into another tizzy. Y/N was tired and overwhelmed from all the crying, a palm coming up to rub her forehead in distraught, “I told you I don’t feel well.”

“Well, you’re lying. I asked Em and she told me you’ve been at work this week, so you’re obviously mad at me or something.” He sounded angry, staring at her intently with his other hand on his hip, “why are you avoiding me, Y/N?” Harry’s eyes were like fire, seeping into her skin and burning her flesh as he expected an answer from her dishevelled state.

Y/N went to sit on the sofa and cupped her hand over the seam of her hairline. Her skull ached and she needed to find a way to cover her face which would inevitably be covered in sticky tears really soon if the conversation headed where she thought it was headed.

A second passed while she mulled over the question in her head and finally decided to rip the band-aid off in one go. “I want you to be honest with me, Harry.”

The soft tone of her voice caught him off guard as he watched her from the other side of the table, “‘course I’ll be honest, just tell me why you’re not talking to me.” When she looked up at him, her eyes were glistening, “last weekend, when you… when we…” she hoped he would understand what she meant without her having to verbalise the now tainted memory, “um. After that when you got that phone call… it wasn’t Niall, was it?”

Her words were heavy and they suffocated her. Just the fact that she let them past her tongue was enough to have her heart racing, bracing herself for a response. She tried to make eye-contact with him, but the slight downturn of his lips and rounding of his eyes told her all she had to know.

“What… what do you mean?”

“What I mean is you fucked me, Harry, lied to me and left me on that couch to go fuck your girlfriend right after.” Her cheeks became hot with anger as she watched his expression twist into something of confusion, “what the fuck are you talking about?”

“You lied about the phone call. It wasn’t Niall, it was some girl called Chelsea, who clearly needed you so fucking urgently—“

“—You don’t know what you’re saying—“

“—that you had to leave your best friend, who you just had sex with—“

“—stop it, you’re wrong, you don’t know what you’re saying—“

“—to go and fuck fucking Chelsea—“

“—Stop it, Y/N!”

Y/N fell silent. Scalding tears brimmed in her eyes and his loud baritone echoed in her head over and over and over again. She was practically vibrating with anger. His chest heaved as he took in her wet pupils.

“I didn’t fuck her— shit, I don’t have a fucking girlfriend. How could you… how could you even think I would do something like that? Do you really think that low of me?”

There was this sort of pleading in his voice. A desperation when he saw her parted lips and leaky sockets. The sight of her made his shoulders slump and eyebrows relax. Y/N pressed her lips together, watching him get on his knees before her so they were eye-level. Harry took her trembling hands in his.

“But you… the picture on your phone. You were kissing her.”

“Sweetheart, she’s not my girlfriend. Just some girl Niall set me up with a couple months back, we saw each other for a week before I broke it off. It was nothing special so I didn’t waste my time with you talking about her,” he explained against the skin of her knuckles. A kiss was pressed to the first boney globe of her index finger.

The cogs in Y/N’s mind twisted and turned as she tried to put the pieces together, still wary of his words; but he sounded sincere and honest, and Y/N was a firm believer in letting someone have the benefit of the doubt if the situation called for it.

“We took that picture ages ago. Way before you and I fell into this arrangement. She wouldn’t stop calling me even though I told her I wasn’t interested. I promise that’s all it is.”

Now, Y/N was a fool for Harry.

So when he dropped her hands and instead cradled her face, a very familiar moony look came over her glossy eyes. She felt herself slipping into that mindset again— the one where she was a puppy with a wagging tail for Harry. Where she wanted to believe whatever he told her. Where he was able to mould and bend her however he wanted, like she was a piece of clay and his hands were covered in glaze.

”You trust me, don’t you?”

They were a sinful collection of words designed to make her melt in the palm of his hand; a fruit of manipulation which she happily sunk her teeth into. It was what made her lean into his affections so easily.

He kissed her damp cheek. Her forehead. Then her eyes. Then her nose. Her jaw. Her chin.

Her lips.

It was the first time they ever kissed, painted in warm, salty tears and promises mumbled against worried skin. She sighed in defeat.

“Tell me you trust me.”

Another kiss to her smushed mouth, “tell me, Y/N,” he mumbled, “you believe me don’t you? I love you so much, you’re my best friend.”

a breath escaped her mouth amidst his soft assault, “yes,” she managed to whisper, “yes, mm—“

He didn’t let up on the kisses, not when her hands held the side of his neck, not when he stroked her cheeks. “And you know I love you so, so much, right?”

”Uh-huh.”

She wasn’t able to get any more words in since he was kissing her so eagerly, and Y/N had to tug him from his hair as her head finally cleared. “You really fucking hurt me, Harry. I feel— felt so used.” Harry’s eyebrows came together downturned, like he was so saddened by her confession. Y/N almost thought he would cry when he swooped his thumbs under her eyes.

“I know, and I’m so sorry, baby,” he said softly, “let me make it up to you? I feel terrible.”

Y/N froze at his words, feeling a little hesitant; all she had been thinking about the past week was the picture of that girl and the lie Harry made up so easily. Her mind had mulled over so many possibilities, and she hadn’t anticipated his explanation in any one of her conclusions. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him and still thought he was lying, it was just that the wound he left in her heart was going to take more than a few kisses to heal.

Of course his explanation helped her feel a little more sane, but there was a part of her that told her she shouldn’t let him go so easily— that she should dig deeper and ask more questions: why did he have to leave so urgently after the phone call? Why didn’t he just block the girl’s number if she was being annoying?

But then Harry slid his hand along her jaw and looked at her with his sorrowful eyes… his apology did sound sincere… surely she could forgive him and move on. She just didn’t want her questions to make matters worse; she didn’t want her best friend to think she didn’t trust him, but on the other hand she also valued her own self respect.

It was hard when he was staring at her with his lip between his teeth, begging her to let him make it up to her. It couldn’t hurt to let him, Y/N thought. Maybe it would be good for her. She could go for a couple of hours where she didn’t have to think about anything and could just feel.

Despite her brain telling her she was being irrational and stupid, falling for his sugar-coated words like a fool, her heart wanted to feel safe, and she felt most safe when she was with him.

Maybe that was why she nodded wordlessly and let him kiss her again, before pulling her off the sofa and guiding her to her room. He didn’t let her get too far from him, making sure every inch of her was pressed against every inch of him constantly. Harry had one arm around her waist and one holding her face to angle it up to him, “missed my baby so much,” he mumbled between kisses, “couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“I missed you too,” Y/N sighed. Her arms slithered around his neck.

“M’sorry, Berry.” His kisses progressed down her jaw and her neck, where Harry took his time suckling at her (his) favorite spots and soothing them over with his tongue.

“M’sorry,” he nuzzled into her throat, “m’so sorry, my love.” The hand on her waist fell to her hip and Harry nudged her in the direction of the bed. He let her settle amongst her mound of pillows and stuffed animals and parted her thighs so he could fit between them. It felt so nice to have him close to her again; just his warmth and weight made Y/N feel at ease— something she struggled with the past fortnight.

His touch travelled down her neck, tracing the skin of her collarbones. He looped circles around the soft skin before coming back up to cup her jaw. His eyes never left hers and Y/N watched as he slowly leaned closer to kiss a line from the sensitive curve of her neck to her mouth.

This kiss was much different than the first. Y/N could practically taste the desperation on his tongue as he stroked it along with hers. She was whimpering against his mouth, especially when he pecked her once, twice, and then dug his teeth into her bottom lip.

“I missed this pretty little pussy,” he whispered. Y/N didn’t know when he sneakily brought his hand down to cup her where she was dripping over the fabric, but the contact was electrifying. His fingers pressed deliciously against her clit and he began grinding his hand against her slowly. “Missed tasting her… fucking her.”

He crawled further down her body and withdrew his touch from her cunt, instead focused on getting her top off. Y/N wasn’t wearing a bra so her tits were immediately bare, which did wonders for Harry as he groaned loudly, “fuck,” he cupped both of them, “need you so bad, baby.” He smushed a kiss against the swell of her right breast.

“You have me.” Y/N was barely able to get the words out of her mouth, lost in the sensation of his lips wrapping around her nipple. He suckled and kissed it, flicked his tongue against the bud and grazed his teeth against it all while his other hand slipped up to Y/N’s lips to press two fingers against her tongue. She was gasping and whining against his skin, biting down hard on his two knuckles when Harry began humming against her. The vibrations went all the way down to her heat, making her all the more wetter.

“You’re so fucking sensitive,” Harry said as he let go of her nipple. It was spit-slicked and pebbled. “I bet I could make y’come just by playing with these.” He knew how much his words affected her, and he knew how much she liked it when he gave both her breasts a squeeze. “Y’like it when I suck on them?”

He took his fingers from her mouth to draw lines along the seam of her bottom lip. She met his gaze again, “mhmm. It’s so good, H.” It was hard to finish her sentence, because halfway through it Harry lost patience and kissed her open mouth instead. Her chin was a bit wet because of the way she was sucking on his fingers, but Harry didn’t mind. If anything, he sort of preferred it that way— a little bit messy.

Another suckle to her bottom lip (he really couldn’t get enough), and he left to tend to the waistband of her pyjama bottoms. They were easy to get rid of, her pink underwear following. Harry didn’t waste a beat in parting her thighs wide and staring down at her leaky pussy, “you’re so beautiful, Ber.” He kissed her right knee, then her thigh. She was completely at his mercy before him; naked and needy. She was so wet she could feel it dripping down to the sheets.

A careful finger came to collect her arousal and push it right back inside of her. There was no resistance since she was so hot for him, so when Harry curled his finger against her g-spot, her back arched off the bed and she moaned loudly. His other hand rested on her mound, his thumb just above her clit, but not touching it. He knew exactly what he was doing, teasing her and not giving any attention to the bundle of nerves.

His thumb pressed into the skin there, tauntingly. “Harry,” Y/N whined, “touch me.”

“I am touching you.” He reasoned as he twisted his finger inside of her. Another joined it shortly. “No, you’re not,” she retorted. Her train of thought was lost as he sped up his thrusts. The tips of his fingers stimulated her g-spot perfectly. Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away from how she was just swallowing him up, snug and warm around him. He was doing everything which pushed Y/N to the edge apart from giving attention to her throbbing clit.

Y/N gasped when he barely grazed his thumb over the bud, “I thought you were making it up to me!”

Desperation was heavy in her voice and she raised her hips to chase his touch. Harry giggled, “I’m sorry, baby. You’re right,” he kissed her inner thigh.

Finally his thumb moved to her clit and he looped a big circle around it, making Y/N cry out loud. If he kept this up for a few more seconds, Y/N would come around him in no time.

Her thighs pressed tightly against his shoulders, trying to shut amidst the blinding pleasure, though Harry didn’t let her take his treat away. He also didn’t let up on his fingers, pushing and curling and circling until she was lifting off the bed and throwing her head back. The first orgasm of the night was phenomenal as Harry rid her through it, “tha’s it. You look so gorgeous when you come, Berry.”

He pulled his fingers out, drenched and dripping down to his knuckles. Harry wasn’t shy in the way he looked right into Y/N’s eyes and licked his digits. Her eyes widened when he groaned and came up to be face-level with her, and held her jaw tightly. He forced her mouth open and let a line of his spit mixed with her arousal fall onto her tongue.

It was filthy as he proceeded to lather the spit in with his thumb and it was filthy when he cooed at her, “swallow.”

Y/N was always eager to please him, so it wasn’t a surprise when she obediently followed his every command. Harry smiled at her sickly, “good girl,” he praised, “such a dirty little thing.” His hand slipped down to her throat, “but s’just for me, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, yes— only you,” Y/N agreed, and she was rewarded with a hot, wet kiss to her lips. If kissing him felt this good every time, Y/N cursed herself for not trying this out earlier. He was skillful with his tongue, heavily stroking it with hers and moaning against her open mouth. They parted with a loud smack, and Harry got off of her to quickly undress.

Y/N watched hungrily as he tugged his shirt off and stepped out of his pants. His cock was revealed to her, angry and leaking at the tip. He hissed, wrapping a hand around it and tugging slowly. “Fuck me, please,” Y/N begged. She was practically drooling at the sight of him, all toned and 6 feet of him, tall and towering over her. He smirked cockily and climbed over her again, “s’okay, baby, don’t have to ask,” he tsked, “gonna let daddy fuck this needy pussy?”

His words almost made Y/N come on the spot. She moaned out loud and wrapped her arms around his neck, “yes, please.” The honorific did unimaginable things for her and Harry must have sensed it when she began trying to lift her hips and fuck down onto his dick, “I take it you like that, then?” he giggled, giving into her desperation and rubbing her clit with his tip, “mm. S’so good.”

Y/N didn’t even notice when he put a condom on, lost in the feeling of him running one hand across her chest and up her arm, linking their fingers together. He interlocked them and brought their joined hands above her head, holding them there and pushing into her at the same time. Her other hand tightened in his hair, and Harry moaned all deep into her ear. The sound travelled straight down to her pussy, which squelched with each slow, deep thrust he delivered.

His pace was delicious— pressing into all her favourite spots and barely kissing her cervix as he came down to the corner of her mouth and nipped her chin. “So good, Berry, always so good for me,” he said. Her fingers tightened against his. She was arching off of the bed and pressing her tits against his firm chest when he rucked into her, making her push up on the bed, “so good for daddy.” Y/N cried out loud.

A couple more minutes passed of him fucking her like that— skin right against skin, deep, and stimulating her g-spot perfectly. She was already sensitive from her first orgasm, so when he brought his free hand down to her clit and rubbed it through the wetness seeping out of her, she found herself coming around his cock a second time. This orgasm was more intense, and she felt like she would snap in half with the way he had her arching in pleasure, “look at you,” he hummed, “such an angel.”

“Please, please, please, daddy, fuc—“

She was babbling and mumbling, fucked out of her mind when Harry pulled out to reposition the two. He let go of her hand and flipped her over so that she was on her tummy. A sharp smack resounded in the room when he slapped her ass. He kneaded it as it jiggled and pushed into her again, “you’re going to come one more time for me.”

It was a demand that he expected to be fulfilled, forgetting the slow pace he set earlier and now fucking her harder and faster. Y/N felt like she would become a part of the mattress with how forcefully his thrusts moulded her to the bed. He slapped her right cheek, then her left one twice. His other hand travelled up the dip in her back and wrapped around her throat from behind.

The sounds he was making were only making the experience that much better; Y/N squeezed around him whenever he let out a particularly harsh or whiney moan.

His thrusts speedened, signalling he was close to coming, punching into her g-spot with every thrust. Y/N’s eyes struggled to stay open, “please don’t stop, daddy, please,” she begged shamelessly. Harry had a way of reducing her into nothing but a begging mess for him, and somehow Y/N was into it. Her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth dropped open as she slipped her own hand down and circled her clit.

Harry whimpered at the sight. “G’na come, I’m gonna come,” she warned him.

The way she squeezed him was enough of a sign to let him know she was seconds from falling apart, “come for me, baby, come all over daddy’s cock. Pussy squeezes me so fucking good, such a good little slut, all for me—“

Praise upon praise tumbled from his bitten mouth as she came for the third time. Y/N was screaming and pulsing uncontrollably around him, and the sensation was enough to make Harry spill into his condom. He threw his head back and gripped her ass, mumbling her name over and over again.

It was like the orgasm was never ending, elongated with the way Harry continued fucking her until she had tears streaming down her cheeks. He took that as his queue to pull out and Y/N shut her thighs, letting Harry flip her over onto her back. Her chest was heaving and her hair was a mess, but he didn’t mind. He pushed some strands back with his clean hand and petted her forehead, then smoothed over her brows and kissed her eyelid, “y’okay, Berry?”

“Mm. You?” Harry giggled, “I’m great,” he kissed her swollen bottom lip. Y/N sighed against his mouth. She didn’t want him to leave her just yet, but then remembered that they were both covered in various juices and fluids and pulled him away with a grip in his hair. “Go get a towel,” she demanded. Harry rolled his eyes playfully, “so bossy. I should be calling you daddy,” he mumbled.

He got off the bed and took off the condom, tied it and disposed of it in the bin before tugging on his sweats. When he left to go get a towel, Y/N was left with an odd sense of deja-vu.

She hoped this time she wasn’t left cold and alone with a bleeding heart and weepy eyes after Harry fucked her. All she wanted was to enjoy this moment of bliss; she didn’t want to think about how things went south this time of the night just two weeks ago.

He came back after a bit and whistled a familiar tune as he wiped her thighs and between her legs. Y/N didn’t notice when he tossed a shirt and underwear her way, but she was grateful for the gesture and put on the garments. Once they were both clean and dressed, Harry dropped next to her on the bed and pulled Y/N to his chest.

He kissed her forehead, “I hope you can forgive me, Ber. I didn’t ever mean to hurt you,” he said. Y/N hummed and traced the swallows on his chest.

“Why did you leave right after the call?” She asked. She didn’t know why she felt scared as she did— she had no reason to be afraid. In fact, she had every right to be asking these questions. Harry owed these answers to her. A part of her was just scared of any outcome that would result in her breaking off her friendship with Harry, so she tried her best to tread carefully.

He snorted, “because, right after I told her off for calling me and blocking her, I actually did get a call from Niall,” he explained, lazily threading his fingers through her hair, “that fucker left the oven on and went to get his dick wet so I had to hurry back to the apartment. Think I broke about thirty traffic laws.”

She laughed at his words and tilted her head up so she looked into his eyes but he was already looking down at her, a soft smile on his pink lips. “I… I’m sorry. I should have known you wouldn’t do something like that. I made you feel like I didn’t trust you.”

“Shh. None of that. Not your fault I was a dick and left you on the couch right after having sex with you,” he retorted. He kissed her hairline again, “don’t have to apologise for a thing.” Y/N nuzzled into his chest, “Uh-oh. That's a big out you're giving me right now. I might abuse it.”

“I don’t mind.”

Her face felt warm against his cool skin and Harry brought a hand down to pinch her cheek, “you’re so cute.” She smacked his chest playfully to which he laughed and brought her leg up over his hip.

A feeling fizzled in her heart— one which bloomed in her chest and wrapped its tendrils around her lungs. It was like a warm hug on a cold day; comforting. Something akin to fondness… except it felt like more. Y/N felt scared as it tainted her, unable to put her finger on it when it was literally right there.

She was afraid to admit it; to say the word that might put a label on the warmth that sprouted inside of her. She was scared because it was foreign. Forbidden. Something she never allowed herself to explore, especially when it came to Harry.

She wouldn’t say it and she wouldn’t think it. The only solution she saw was to lock it into a box and tuck it deep into an alcove in her conscience, wary of it like a ticking bomb that would blow if she spent too much time with it. Y/N ignored the butterflies in her tummy and the heavy feeling in her chest and shifted closer to Harry’s side. He hummed quietly as he caressed her upper arm.

Y/N knew she had to ignore her heart for the sake of their friendship. The last thing she ever wanted was to lose her best friend over some silly feelings she might have.

It was this thought that kept her awake for a good part of that night, shifting restlessly in Harry’s arms. For the first time she found herself questioning her decision to take such a big step with him. All the risks it came with suddenly taunted her, and Y/N prayed to some mighty deity that her actions didn’t translate into stupidity, and she didn’t just set fire to her most treasured friendship.

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