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lockefanfic · 3 months

Text

Truth

The following can be considered an alternate ending to the Business Trip series - although it can just as easily be read on its own. :)

---

The first few weeks together as an official couple were wonderful. Honeymoon phase and all that. Moving in together, domestic bliss. Fucking like rabbits, of course. But problems arose - became noticeable, and then unavoidable. Two of them, actually.

Problem 1: Your job.

Problem 2: Her job.

---

Problem 1: You’d thought business trips were a thing of the past. They weren’t.

You were happy to put the little adventure you’d had in Seoul and Tokyo behind you. Since then you’d done your best to decline any opportunities to engage in similar trips - feigning illness, sending underlings in your place, handling as many meetings as you could remotely. These days your life consisted of long, sometimes draining days at the office - a far cry from the brushes with danger and law enforcement that characterized your most recent trip overseas. Your days at work were boring and mundane now, but you were at home, and that was what mattered.

Home, after all, was where she was.

Regardless, the allure of another trip still came calling every now and then, tempting you, enticing you into spending a couple of weeks or months overseas where anything could - and sometimes did - happen.

Sometimes that allure took physical form. Sometimes it came waltzing into your office wearing a tight blouse and a pencil skirt. Sometimes it was named Shin Ryujin. Other days it was named Hwang Yeji, or Lee Chaeryeong. Today, as with most days, it was named Shin Yuna.

“Ryujin and Yeji are on-site in Busan, and Chaeryeong is in Seoul, waiting for her flight to join them. Lia sustained injuries in our last operation and isn’t medically cleared for this one, but she’s recovering well. Ryujin has begin surveillance on our competitors’ teams - codenamed New Jeans and Le Sserafim - and she is ready to proceed with next steps once you arrive,” Yuna says, eagerness evident in the tone of her moderately Korean-accented english. “Shall I make travel arrangements for us to join them?”

For the first time since she walked into your office you look up from the reports on your laptop. You don’t miss the small bite the young woman is giving her lower lip, nor the way she has crossed her legs and begun leaning her wide hips against your desk. It takes more restraint than you were willing to admit not to steal a glance at her long pantyhose-clad legs and the tight charcoal pencil skirt they led to. You find the self-control to keep eye contact with your eager young executive assistant, even if her body language and tone of voice made her intentions clear and easy to read.

“Give me a second to finish reviewing Ryujin’s report,” you answer, returning your full attention to the screen in front of you. “I’ll confirm whether I need to be on-site by end of day, and if so you can make the necessary arrangements then.”

Despite her best efforts, Yuna can’t hide the small twinge of disappointment that makes its way across her soft features. She’d been looking forward to the thirteen hour flight with you and the opportunities it would present.

“Oh, and…” she begins, her tone a little less upbeat now that you’d at least temporarily dampened her excitement. “You have a visitor. It’s Detective-”

“Let her in,” you interrupt. Yuna frowns, offers a short bow - a lingering habit from her Korean upbringing - and steps back toward the door to your office. She swings it open, and you catch the look of disdain on her features when she waves in your visitor.

Im Nayeon pushes past Yuna and into the office. She gives Yuna a sharp look as she passes the younger woman, and even from your chair you can sense the venom in it. The detective sits down in the chair opposite your desk, legs and arms crossed. She is dressed plainly, in a short denim skirt and a leather jacket, the glimmer of her badge on a chain around her neck the only clue as to her profession. She drops a large paper bag onto your desk.

“Please let me know if you need anything else, sir-”

“That will be all, Yuna,” you answer.

Before your executive assistant has a chance to close the door, Nayeon turns her head and squeezes in one last shot.

“Cancel his next hour, Miss-”

“My name is Yuna,” the young woman at the door answers, crossing her arms, scowl painted on her lips.

“Whatever,” Nayeon retorts, flatly. “Clear his schedule for the next hour. Oh, and do be a dear and lock the door.”

Out of the corner of your eye you catch two things - the barely restrained scoff on Yuna’s lips, and the satisfied sneer on Nayeon’s. With one last look of scorn directed at the back of the detective’s head, the younger Korean woman closes the door with a little more force than was necessary. The click of the lock engaging follows shortly after, as does the heavier than usual click-clack of her heels as she stomps away in obvious irritation.

“You have a thing for executive assistants with hips,” Nayeon observes. “Although this one’s much more of a brat than the last one.”

“Be nice,” you say, although you can’t keep the smirk from appearing on your lips as you continue to scroll through the report on your laptop. “She grew up in Korea, so she’s useful whenever I’m in-country. And she’s not a bad person.”

“I know,” Nayeon relents. “But the more of a cunt I am to her, the more she gets off on being a little fucktoy for you. I bet she gets off on thinking that you’re fucking her without me knowing. I bet it makes her so wet.”

Your smirk turns into a slim smile, and it becomes difficult to keep your eyes on the report in front of you.

“Am I wrong?” she contests.

“No,” you admit, finally turning to give her your full attention. “In fact, I’m about to hop on a plane with her to Korea in a couple of days. I expect it will be an… eventful flight.”

“Good,” Nayeon states, satisfied. “I bet she’ll be a good little girl for you, now that she’s received another reminder of how much you need some time away from your queen bitch of a girlfriend.”

She smiles - this one warm, soft - the smile that caught you in its clutches all those years ago and never let go. She turns momentarily to face the door.

“Oh, yeah, baby, fuck, you’re so big in me, fuck me! Fuck, this is the best dick I’ve ever had!” she exclaims in faux-pleasure, ensuring she was loud enough for the exasperated executive assistant sitting just outside your door to hear. You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“We can fuck at home later. I just wanted to piss her off,” Nayeon admits, a sly smile on her lips. “Anyway, pull up House of the Dragon?”

“Already on it,” you answer, swinging your laptop screen around so you can both watch. Nayeon pulls containers of take-out sushi from the paper bag.

She swaps your salmon for her tamago.

She leans over your desk as she passes you your chopsticks. She gives you a warm kiss, and the smile she leaves on your lips stays there for the rest of the day.

---

Even after all these years, she never tired of the collar and its leash.

It was showing signs of wear, of course - the bright fire engine red had faded into a softer, paler shade, the chain was no longer as shiny, and there was more than one set of her teeth marks on it from particularly frisky sessions - but she never missed a chance to put it on when the mood struck, and you never missed a chance to put it on her.

For now you are content to let the chain dangle freely in your left hand, watching the light streaming in from the open window as it plays on its metallic links. The chain glimmers in the morning light against her pale, creamy skin, swaying and occasionally bouncing along with her movements.

The chair you are sitting on protests with the weight and movement the both of you make atop it. Her soft sighs and gasps - a far cry from the loud shouts and moans you knew she was well capable of - happily cancel out the furniture’s squeaking protests as she rides you atop it. Soft, sensual, slow. The perfect fuck for a perfect morning.

You do your best to just sit there and savour the moment, letting Nayeon do all the work as she grinded back and forth on your lap. As much as you enjoyed watching her bounce up and down atop you, taking your full length in and out of her body - taking special delight in the delicious bounce it gave her breasts and thighs - there was something to be said for the intimacy of the way she was riding you now, slowly and softly. It gave her a chance to grind her slick, swollen clit against your crotch, and while it only let a third or so of your cock slip in and out of her hot, slippery cunt with each entry and exit, each movement nonetheless caused a warm spike of pleasure to course up your spine as your cock moves around inside her.

She was so beautiful, so utterly ethereal and intensely erotic all at the same time - clothed simultaneously in perfect golden sunlight and slick sweat, saliva, and other fluids. She was ethereal beauty and dirty sex. She wore both, was utterly enrapturing in both, was equally comfortable in both.

You watch each movement of her body - a body you knew well, knew every peak and curve and valley of - and you never tired of it. You watch as her round, full thighs flex and work, as her tight core drives her lower body back and forth, as her small, perfect breasts sway and bounce. Her face is immaculate, soft features twisted and wracked by pleasure. Sweat glistens over all of it. It makes her perfect skin glisten and glimmer in the sunlight.

You take a moment to look over her shoulder at the dressing mirror behind her, relishing the sight of her back - the beautiful curve of her spine and the sweat dripping down that delicious valley; the round cheeks of her ass and the muscles beneath them as they work to fuck herself on your cock; the short glimpses of your balls as she moves back and forth, takes you in and out of her body. Even her hair, having started the morning pulled into a messy bun, has become disheveled and loose - but in a way that is enticing and alluring, glued to the back of her neck and upper shoulders by perspiration.

Your right hand, resting on her thigh, snakes a path up her body - up her chiselled abs, cupping a soft breast and delighting in the tightness of her nipple as you capture it with your thumb and index finger and give it a pull, a twist, a pinch. Her pussy pulsates in response around you. She is sighing and moaning her pleasure when your hand continues its journey, sliding up a sweaty neck until you reach the side of her face.

Her eyes, shut, drift open at your touch.

You give the chain a jerk forward.

Her entire upper body crashes against yours at the sudden pull at her neck. Your lips find and capture hers, and for a few moments you share a passionate, heavy kiss. As your tongues duel you give her a slight thrust upward with your hips, timed to meet the apex of her grind - and she sighs into your mouth at the movement, eyes shutting again, nails digging into your shoulders.

Spurred by her reaction, you continue to thrust upward as best you can given your sitting position. Her cunt, already so wet and slick and hot, clenches around you with each thrust, welcoming you, taking you.

“Oh god,” she sighs, the first full words either of you have spoken in a while. “Oh god, I’m close-“

Her sentence breaks into a moan, a soft, wordless cry of pleasure as you continue your thrusts upwards into her body. She wraps her arms around your shoulders, burying your face against her warm, moist chest. You lick the sweat from between her dangling breasts. You savour each moan that leaves her mouth, heavy and hot, directly into your ears.

The chain drops from your left hand, its end falling with a soft clink onto the hardwood floor of your apartment. Forgotten for now, because the faux, pretend-ownership it represented was no longer needed, was perhaps never necessary.

She orgasms around you - pussy clenching, lungs emptying of breath as she cries her pleasure into your bedroom. Your hands find themselves clutching at her moist, sweaty back, hugging her to you, bringing your bodies as close together as possible.

“Your cum, inside me,” she hisses, her voice soft and almost vulnerable in your ear, still at the height of her orgasm. “Please, I want, I need it, please.”

Im Nayeon knew you - knew every part of what made you tick. She knew what you wanted to hear, knew when you wanted to hear it.

You thrust upward into her clenching, creamy cunt one last time. Every part of her body surrounds you, wraps itself around you: she buries your head into her chest, fingers interwoven into your hair, cradling you with her arms and legs as her cunt clenches and tightens around your cock.

Your shaft spurts warm, thick cum into her. She lets a sigh leave her breathless lips with each pulse of your cock inside her, knowing each one was another rope of cum that would bind your bodies even further together.

Your fluids mix inside her, eventually sliding out between the pussy lips stretched tight around the base of your cock. It drips down your shaft, your balls, and onto the chair. You are sticky everywhere - on your sweaty chests, your slick thighs, but especially where you are joined together, your shaft still embedded hilt deep inside her. You are glued together, made one.

You sigh into her chest, and the nails that had dug furrows into your scalp now stroke it softly. The exhaustion hits you both at once, and for a few wonderful moments the only sound either of you can hear is the sound of heavy breathing.

Her hands eventually slide from your scalp. Her turn now to cradle your face in her hands. Your faces hover in front of each other, noses barely touching, half-lidded, pleasure-ridden eyes locked on one another.

For a moment her left hand moves to her neck, where she undoes and releases the clasp of the red leather collar. It slips from her body and falls to the floor.

“I belong to you,” she says, breathless, not needing some scrap of leather around her neck to convince you of it - not that she ever needed such a thing to begin with. Her hands cradle your face, palms on each cheek, like you are the most delicate thing in the world. Your arms wrap themselves even tighter around her soft, trembling torso. Your foreheads touch, your eyes close.

“I know,” you answer. “I always have.”

Later that morning, when she is snoring peacefully, you slip out of the bed. Your flight to Korea wasn’t until later that afternoon, and so you had some time to spare before you had to leave the house, and her, for god knew how long. Every part of you wanted to lie there in bed with her and savour every moment of it, not knowing when you’d next be able to do so - but you had decided the night before that something needed to be done, and there was no better time to do it.

You fire up the coffee maker - you’d both settled into specific domestic roles since moving in together, and you were almost immediately appointed Minister of Caffeinated Beverages - and take a seat at the kitchen island with your laptop.

A few minutes later, and you’d begun an email to JYP informing him of your intention to resign your position following the end of your next business trip.

Distance had taken her from you once, and it wouldn’t do it again.

---

“Is she being a good girl?”

“Yes, Nayeon,” you say, your answer somewhere between a sigh and a hiss as you press your phone close to your ear, ensuring only you could hear the voice on the other side of the call. You made sure to use her name, as she’d previously suggested, knowing what hearing it would do to the young woman you were currently sharing a hotel room with.

Between your legs, Yuna gives the tip of your cock a swirl with the end of her tongue. Those large doe eyes glance up at you, the mention of your girlfriend’s name giving the topless young woman a small spike of wicked delight. You watch with a measure of your own satisfaction as she pumps your cock with one hand, the other fondling her own small, round breast and the tight nipple atop it. After a moment her hand drifts down her body, between her legs - and soon after she begins to sigh and moan around a mouthful of your shaft as she begins to pleasure herself.

“Good,” Nayeon continues. “I told you she would be. Did you fuck her on the plane, too?”

“Yes, we’ve started the operation. And yeah, Korea’s hot this time of year,” you say, keeping up the false pretence you both agreed upon.

“Let me guess - she’s on her knees? Are you fucking that pretty little mouth of hers?”

“Not yet,” you answer, “I think I’ll let the team continue to observe before we move.” Your eyes drift closed as the pleasure begins to build. You lean your head back slightly as the young woman between your knees increases her pace. What Yuna lacked in experience and technique, she more than made up for with enthusiasm.

On the line, you hear a soft sigh. A moment later, the sigh turns into a barely audible moan.

“What about you?” you ask. “Are you busy? How’s work?”

“Fine. I’m… alone. In a squad car.”

“On a stakeout?”

“We prefer the term ‘distanced surveillance,’ but yes, a stakeout.”

“You miss me?”

“Fuck,” you hear, followed by a soft hum. “Yes, I miss you,” she admits.

A thousand miles away, you smirk. The image of Nayeon alone, in her car, in an alleyway, a hand down her pants, touching herself to the sound of her boyfriend getting head from another woman - it aroused you more than the young woman between your knees, truth be told.

“Do you… miss me?” she asks.

You reach out with your free hand, cradling the side of Yuna’s head, running your fingertips through the bright red strands. She redoubles her efforts at your touch - she quickens her pace, her hand squeezing tighter around your shaft as her head continues to bob up and down its length.

“Fuck, I want you right now, Nayeon,” you hiss, knowing what repeating her name would do to the younger woman filling her mouth with your shaft. “I wish you were here.”

Between your legs, the moan Yuna lets out around your cock sends a delicious pulse of pleasure up your spine. On the line, Nayeon lets a similar moan escape her lips.

“Tell me what you would do to me,” Nayeon says, tone low and deep, the way it was when she was desperate, needy. “I bet she’d do it for you.”

You bite your lip for a second - listening to Nayeon’s increasingly breathless sighs and picturing her becoming a writhing, wet little mess in her car, watching Yuna try and fail to wrest your attention away - taking it all in, savouring every second of the two women, a thousand miles apart, each doing their best to pleasure you in their own way.

“I’d pull your mouth off my cock,” you say, gripping the base of Yuna’s ponytail and easing her off your shaft. She looks up with you with those large doe eyes of hers, momentarily confused, temporarily disappointed at the sudden emptiness in her mouth - until she quickly catches on to your intentions.

“Mmm, more,” Nayeon says, on the verge of a plea.

“I’d tell you to strip, and get your cunt on my cock like a good little girl.”

And just as she predicted, Yuna does exactly that - peels off ridiculously short denim shorts she wore, along with the flimsy scrap of string beneath it that passed for a thong. She climbs atop you, straddles your waist, reaches between your bodies, grasps your slick cock and spends just a second rubbing your head against her dripping, slick lips.

And then she takes you inside her. On the line, Nayeon hears that unmistakable gasp you made whenever you entered her own cunt, and it drives her crazy. Her fingers work quickly between her legs.

A thousand miles away, you watch as Yuna bounces her young, tight little body on your cock - up and down, up and down, up and down. She is rough, fast, impatient, with little technique but plenty of need.

Your free hand grips a thigh before snaking up her torso, gripping a soft, bouncing breast and pinching the taut nipple between two fingers and giving it a slight slap from the side that elicits a yelp of pleasure from the young woman. Your cock stretches her tight little cunt with each entry, filling her up, making her need more, want more, making her lose her control over her senses - not that she had much to begin with.

She is enthusiastic, needy - but she is clumsy in her movements, inexperienced, drunk on the idea of being used and fucked and not possessing the control to savour the moment, make it anything more memorable than a messy, quick fuck.

She sighs and moans. “Daddy,” she gasps, uncaring now of being heard on the line, forgetting that you were supposed to be fucking her on the down low, under your girlfriend’s nose. “Daddy please, I need… Daddy please, your cum, inside me, I want-”

You remind her of her place by closing your hand around her throat. Not enough to cause pain, but enough to remind her of what she was - a fucktoy. Something to warm your cock while you were apart from the woman you really wanted. A substitute for a woman a thousand miles away.

“Is she… is she good for you?” Nayeon asks, voice betraying the fact that she was bringing herself to the edge. She’s wet and squirming and sighing - but she’s alone, in her car, far away.

Her fingers aren’t you.

Yuna continues to fuck herself on your cock, recklessly and wildly, her orgasm doing little to slow or stop her. You watch as she bites down hard on her lower lip, enough to draw blood, doing her best to keep herself from vocalizing the pleasure coursing through her body and only partially succeeding. You knew she’d be especially loud once you’d ended the call. You consider pretending to end it but leaving the line open, just to give Nayeon the satisfaction of hearing what Shin Yuna sounded like when she was being bent over the bed and having her tight little pussy pounded full of cum.

Your fingers tighten around Yuna’s neck as she bounces with an increasingly wild pace atop your cock. It forces her to slow down, forces her to submit to you and your needs. It reminds her of her place, reminds her who she was. It was necessary.

A makeshift leash.

“She’s good, Nayeon,” you admit. “But she’s not you.”

---

“Alright, I have to admit - she’s pretty fucking perfect for you.”

“There’s something I never thought I’d hear you say,” you admit, looking up from your laptop and the report on it to give Shin Yuna a look. The young woman is lounging about on her stomach your hotel room bed, picking away at a plate of room service french fries. She’d taken a shower, but hadn’t bothered to put her clothes back on after you’d bent her over the bed and fucked a load into her.

“She’s a bitch, don’t get me wrong,” she continues, tone casual, as though she weren’t naked on her boss’ hotel room bed with his cum still warm inside her. “But she’s really fucking pretty, and she’s a cop? Man. That’s a dream girl for most guys, you have to admit.”

“I suppose,” you say, flatly. “Where are you going with this, Yuna?”

“Nowhere,” she answers, popping another fry into her mouth. “I was just curious, I guess.”

“About?”

“About why you’re not married yet. About why there aren’t little hellspawn baby versions of her running around in your life.”

The thought is finally enough to wrest your attention from the report for good. You give the young woman atop your bed a look.

“Listen, I think it’s hot as fuck to be some exec’s fucktoy,” Yuna continues. “I just want to make sure I’m not the thing that’s keeping him from marrying the love of his life or some shit.”

“You’re not stopping anything, Yuna,” you state, clearly, ensuring that she didn’t form any wrong impressions. You certainly didn’t want her to overestimate her role in your life. “Trust me,” you add.

“So then what is stopping you? You’re in love, aren’t you?” Yuna continues. “I’ve heard all about your past with her from the company grapevine, and Dahyun filled me in on the rest. College sweethearts finding each other again in a foreign land after so long apart - that’s cute as fuck. So why isn’t there a ring on her finger and a baby in her belly?”

You are struck temporarily wordless by your executive assistant’s forwardness, but the answer comes to you eventually.

“We’re not ready yet,” you state.

Yuna seems satisfied with your answer - or at least, isn’t curious enough to pursue it further. She gives you a shrug before she picks up her phone and begins to scroll on it. “Whatever you say, boss,” she says.

You return your attention to your laptop, and the resignation email to JYP that was sitting in your drafts. Sending it would mean leaving a career that, in many ways, had defined you. Yes, it had played a major role in bringing Nayeon back into your life, but were you really ready to give up the adventures in distant lands, not to mention all the romance and intrigue and excitement said adventures brought with them?

Your cursor hovers over the send icon.

—

Problem 2: Her job.

As it turned out, JYP was more than happy to do whatever it took to keep you with the company - even if it meant giving you a tidy little promotion along with a promise to make any further business trips entirely optional. That was Problem 1 solved, then - leaving only Problem 2.

For the most part, Nayeon did a good job of keeping her work at work and not taking it home with her. Every now and then she’d vent about a particularly hard case she was on, or tell you about how something an actor did in a movie or tv show was wildly inaccurate compared to standard law enforcement procedures in the real world. By and large you could almost forget that she was a senior detective who regularly found herself in situations the average person might consider dangerous.

This was all to say that you only rarely gave Nayeon’s profession any thought, had you not noticed the breaking news report playing on the large TV screen in the JYP lobby on your way back from lunch one afternoon.

A reporter, apparently on scene, is speaking into the camera - but the TV is muted, and the captions are not turned on. Behind him civilians flee from a building under the guidance of two understandably anxious-looking uniformed police officers with their sidearms drawn. “Active hostage situation underway at downtown bank,” read the ticker. “Multiple hostages and casualties reported.”

You were ready to give it no further thought aside from a passing sense of disappointment at the general state of crime in your country, had you not caught a fleeting glimpse of her on the screen.

In the background, behind the reporter, Nayeon steps into frame, her back to the camera - but it was unmistakably her. She flashes the badge around her neck to the two uniformed cops nervously holding the bank entrance door.

You watch as she draws her sidearm from the holster at her hip, racks the slide to chamber a round, and rushes into the building.

To say the next few hours were absolutely nerve wracking would be an understatement.

Yes, you’d known that danger and the possibility of being hurt were part and parcel of being a member of active law enforcement. You were in the room when she was quite literally shot at close range in Seoul - a few layers of kevlar being the only thing that kept her from bleeding out on a dirty apartment floor.

You’d done your best to avoid having to deal with the reality that your girlfriend had a relatively dangerous profession. Maybe it was a subconscious thing - maybe your brain knew that living every day in fear of your girlfriend losing her life was not exactly conducive to a healthy relationship - or a healthy mental state.

Whatever the reason, it didn’t really hit home until that day. You’d never been so worried in your life, staying glued to the TV and your phone and news sites, pacing nervously alone in your apartment, grasping for any snippet of an update that would confirm she was okay, that she was safe. Needless to say she wasn’t picking up her phone, and a call to her precinct lieutenant went unanswered.

You’d learn later that she was never in any actual danger - the gunfire she’d heard turned out to be warning shots fired into the ceiling to intimidate the bank staff. Nayeon, who’d been passing by the building randomly on her lunch break, had decided that civilians were in immediate danger and entered the bank on her own volition, cleared out the remaining customers from the bank lobby, and held down the hallway leading to the safety deposit boxes where the suspects were holed up until SWAT arrived.

As the first responder to the scene, protocol demanded she remain on-site until it was resolved, explaining the length of her absence. She wasn’t actually in danger for very long, she’d later insist.

But she knew none of that when she rushed into the building, gun in hand. For all she’d known there could have easily been a suspect pointing an assault rifle down the hallway, finger on the trigger, just waiting for an eager young detective to stray into his sights. Moreover, her nine millimetre sidearm and lack of kevlar would’ve put her in a precarious position had they decided to make an escape using force.

Nonetheless, you were more relieved than you’d ever been in your life when she finally called to tell you she was on her way home - eight hours and forty-nine minutes since you’d made your first unanswered call to her cell phone (the first of thirty).

Your heart let out the breath it had been holding for nine hours.

---

When she finally got home it was a lot, all at once.

It was relief, mostly, and then reassurance, and comfort, followed shortly by an irresistible, intense lust. Danger never failed to get Im Nayeon going.

Within seconds of bursting through the door she was already on you, arms wrapped around your neck as yours wrapped around hers, lips searching for and quickly pulling yours into a deep, passionate kiss. Her leather jacket quickly leaves her body, her fingers immediately going to work on your button-up. While this hurried undressing was happening, when your lips parted long enough to draw in a breath, she’d tried, in broken sentences, to fill you in on what had happened.

You pieced enough together from her jumbled words to get an idea of how her day went, and how she wasn’t allowed to contact you until the incident was resolved. You wanted to ask her more, wanted to know more about what exactly happened, but she was in no mood for talking. Her lips and tongue stole the words and questions from your mouth before you could give them voice.

You are naked before long, stumbling into the bedroom and leaving behind a trail of haphazardly discarded clothing. She pushes you onto the bed with more force than you were ready for - silencing any objections by quickly climbing atop you, straddling your lap as you sit on its edge. Your mouths find each other and your tongues continue their frantic duel. Before long you slip from her lips to kiss a rough trail down her neck and to her chest.

You capture a breast in your mouth, closing your lips around her taut nipple. “Fuck,” she gasps, her hands quickly burying themselves in your hair, nails digging almost painfully into your scalp as you suckle from her tight bud.

A small part of you wants to slow down - perhaps even stop altogether - and tell her how damn worried you were for her, how the last nine hours were the longest nine hours you’d ever had in your life. But she steals your words again, this time with some of her own.

“Hard,” she hisses between gritted teeth, “I want it hard.”

She reaches between you, points your tip at her dripping entrance, and takes you inside her.

The long, hot sigh that escapes your lips finally rips them from her nipple. For the next few minutes you are powerless to do more than breathe heavily between her breasts as she rides you - those toned, full thighs of her working to throw her body up and down your shaft, taking you in and out of her tight, warm little cunt.

“Nayeon, I-” you begin, finally finding the wherewithal after a few minutes to look up at her.

She silences you with a finger to your lips. Her eyes are half-lidded, but hungry.

“Shut up,” she spits. “Just shut up.”

You were not one to argue, not when you were balls deep inside the most beautiful woman you’d ever known. And so you content yourself with watching as Nayeon took her pleasure from your body, using your cock like a toy, impaling herself with it over and over again until she became a mewling, moaning mess atop your lap.

You grasp her thighs, squeeze her bouncing breasts and tease the nipples atop them, slide your hand up her chest and up her throat and to her jaw before sliding your thumb between her lips for her to suck as you cradle the side of her pleasure-filled face - and throughout it all she rides you, pace relentless, merciless, hard.

Soon she is cumming - and she shows no sign of stopping, fucking herself through her orgasm even as her body is wracked by pleasure. She trembles, shakes, and quivers atop you - but it doesn’t stop her, doesn’t come close to fulfilling her immense need. She wants more. She needs more.

Even as her orgasm radiates throughout her body and turns her into a wet, writhing mess, you hold her tight to you as you turn her over, putting her on her back atop the bed while you rise to your feet next to it. You wrap her legs around your waist, pull her hips onto yours, and continue to fuck her - hard, fast, rough.

She sighs and moans and cries and you are content to let her, content to let out some of the frustration and worry and fear you’d held inside you for most of the day on her tight, helpless little body. Her breasts bounce deliciously atop her heaving chest. Her fingers are claws, finding purchase wherever she can - on the bedsheets and your forearms, mostly. Eventually she reaches down and fingers her own clit, even as your cock pumps in and out between the lips of her cunt, just beyond her fingertips. Her eyes spur you on - telling you to keep fucking her, keep using her, all without saying a single word.

Your hands leave her hips, pulling on her legs until her calves are atop your shoulders. You continue to pound into her all along, this new position leaving her cunt open and exposed, rendering her helpless to do anything but take each hard, fast thrust you make into her body. It is almost callous, the way you fuck her, as though she were some whore and not the love of your life. You use her cunt. You make it yours, remind her who it belonged to.

Her moans build, rising in volume and signalling another impending orgasm. You want to join her, and are about to give in, about to fill her-

“My ass,” she gasps. “Fuck my ass.”

She pulls her sweaty, still trembling body off you, denying you the warm slickness of her cunt. Her pussy drips onto the bedsheets as she wastes no time, getting atop the bed on her knees, upper body pressed against the bed. She reaches back with her hands, palming the cheeks of her ass, spreading them apart, showing you what she’d been keeping inside her.

And there it is, red silicone, glistening and slick with lube.

The sight of it takes your breath away. You let an unexpected sigh of pleasure leave your lips as you grasp the toy with your fingers, easing it out of her body slowly. She moans as it leaves her, perhaps in pain or pleasure or both. Soon it’s finally out. Every molecule in her body yearns to replace its absence.

Grasping your cock, slick and wet with her juices, you press the tip against her open, gaping hole - and begin to slide inside her.

You’d had her ass before, but never after she’d had a plug inside her, and it is sublime. Her ass immediately closes and tightens around you, and you think right then and there that you might cum. Your hand clutches her ass and left hip, fingers digging deep into the soft, yielding flesh, relishing the pleasure coursing through your veins but fighting it before it gets too intense, wanting to prolong this moment. She sighs and moans as she adjusts to your size. She trembles at the feeling of her ass being filled.

“Mmmm,” she hisses into the sheets, evidently having lost the ability to form words. She reaches back as far as she can with a free hand, her long fingers clutching your thigh. She pulls you toward her, and you oblige, pressing yourself as deep as you can until you are hilt deep.

“Do it,” she spits from between gritted teeth, “Fuck my ass. Hard.”

And so you begin - fucking Im Nayeon’s ass with hard, long strokes, using her tight, hot hole with the same tempo and speed as you did her cunt just moments earlier. She moans and shrieks and gasps into the sheets, the side of her face pressed against the bed, saliva dripping from a slack mouth. Her fingers are claws, digging into the sheets or your thighs or both, searching for something, anything, to ground herself amidst the constant pounding into the most vulnerable part of her body.

“Fuck, Nayeon,” you say, your brain unable to form much more than a curse and her name. She is so tight, so very hot - and she’d ensured the toy was well lubed before it entered her, so she was slick enough to make every entry and exit so delicious, so utterly sublime; a perfect cocktail of pleasure and pain all mixed into one irresistible sensation.

For the first time in a while Nayeon lifts her head from the bed, sweat pasting dark strands to the side of her face. She opens her mouth to say something-

But you reach forward, grasping her by the back of her neck, and slamming her back down onto the bed. She shrieks - partially in surprise, mostly in pleasure - as you resume pounding her.

“Shut up,” you spit. “Just shut up.”

The thick cotton bedsheets can do little to hide the long, deep moan of pleasure that leaves Nayeon’s lips as you impose yourself on her. She continues, not stopping for a moment, letting a drivel of wordless pleasure leave her mouth with each thrust you make into her body. She reaches a hand down, plays with her wet, slick clit even as you pound relentlessly into her ass - pleasuring her, hurting her - either way, making her yours.

The hand at her neck doesn’t leave her - it merely moves to her upper back, still keeping her pinned to the mattress, making sure she could do nothing more than take you. She lets you. She gives herself to you, lets you do what you want to her, because this - a rough, hard fuck - was what she wanted, what she craved.

It doesn’t take her long to orgasm, with her fingers on her clit and your cock pounding hard into her asshole. She tightens even more around you. She screams her pleasure into the bedsheets.

She clenches around your cock when she cums. It sends you over the edge, and you push yourself as deep as you can into Im Nayeon’s ass before you cum, filling her depths with thick, hot semen. Her moans turn into whimpers and then sobs, and you think for a moment that she might be crying.

You want to stay there, as you often did after you came inside her. You want to relish the moment and the sight of your cock embedded inside her ass and the feeling of her body wrapped around yours. But the accumulated physical and mental exhaustion of the day hit you all at once, and you collapse atop her, your arms only barely keeping you from crashing onto her back as you land on your elbows, still hilt-deep inside her.

You find the strength to bring your mouth to her ear. Filthy sex and dirty fucking aside, she had to know.

“I belong to you,” you say.

“I know,” she answers. Beneath the sweaty, messy hair and heavy breaths, Nayeon smiles.

—

The next morning, while you are still asleep, she wakes up early to make breakfast. She rarely cooked - every food delivery driver within a ten mile radius knew how to get to your apartment by heart - but when she did it was for special occasions. Or, in this case, a form of apology for making you worry so much the day before.

She’s stumbling towards the kitchen - she was understandably more than a little sore in places that made walking difficult - when she catches a glimpse of her old criminology textbooks on the hallway bookshelf.

She was a fairly sentimental person, and despite your efforts she wouldn’t get rid of the old, heavy texts. She insisted that they were a part of what made her who she was, and wanted to keep them as a reminder of how far she’d come in her career; privately, she kept them to remind herself of those hard months when you’d left to join JYP all those years ago, and how much she missed being away from you. Those months were difficult, and she’d turned to her career as a way of coping. Those months were instrumental in putting her on the path to becoming a detective, but they were also part of what drove her to Seoul to find you.

A thought strikes her as her eyes take in titles of the texts. She reaches out and lets her fingertips graze their worn covers, seeing in them a way to ensure her career would never worry you so much again.

---

And so the problems were solved. All it took was a few uncomfortable emails, a few months of occasionally stressful worrying and intense interviews, and two new job offers. Easy peasy.

You’d taken a job at a branch office of JYP that promised travel would be completely optional. Nayeon had quit the PD and become a professor in criminology at a local college. You’d moved out of the small downtown apartment that had been the home you’d shared for the past five years, and into a slightly more comfortable townhouse in the suburbs.

Time passed. Good days and bad days. She was there for all of them, making the good days sweeter and the bad days more bearable. She was home. Safe harbour and north star for each other.

You are both sitting in a cafe on a lazy Sunday morning - you’re reading a book and nursing a coffee while she’s grading some papers on her laptop. You loved many things about your relationship, but one of the things you appreciated the most was how comfortable you both were in silence. The years had given you both a familiarity that had often transcended the need for speaking. Most of the time, you knew what the other was thinking, even before they spoke.

Your presence was enough, and there was no need to fill the space between you with words for the sake of it.

After awhile you look up to her to find that she’d been watching you, apparently for some time.

“I think we’re ready,” she says, a warm, soft smile on her lips.

She says no more, returning her attention to her laptop, but you know what she means.

You smile as you return to your book.

---

Im Nayeon could always surprise you.

You’d had her more times than you could count, but this night was different - it was important, special in a way none of the in-shower quickies or weekend-long marathon sessions were. Just when you’d thought sex and lovemaking could hold no more surprises, you are proven wrong.

“It’s you,” she sighs into your ear, her voice soft, still filled with pleasure, but with an undercurrent of emotion that you’d never heard in her before. One of her arms wraps itself around your back, the other buried into the hair at the back of your neck as you thrust in and out of her body.

“Cum inside me,” she continues, breathless, words spilling from her lips in a long, drawn out hiss. “Fill me up. It has to be you. Breed me, put a baby in my belly. I want it- I want you. It has to be you. It’s only ever been you.”

“Nayeon,” you say into her ear, and when she replies with your own name you think it is the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard in your life.

She is tight, wet, hot - she feels every bit as good as she did when you were teenagers fumbling awkwardly in an old dorm room, or when you were reunited old flames brought together by fate in Seoul, or when you moved in together and decided to build lives together. But it means more now. It means more now than it ever did.

“Give me a baby,” she says, half-moan, half-sigh. “Breed me, make me yours.”

Words you’d heard before, from the same lips, on many another night. But none like tonight, not when she meant them more than she ever did - this wasn’t pillow talk, an act meant to spice up a risqué encounter; no, this was much more. She meant every word, without pretence or facade. She meant it all.

“Nayeon,” you repeat, unable to say much else. The sound of her name on your lips draws a sigh from hers, sends a quiver up her spine that is pure pleasure and love.

“It has to be you,” she whispers into your ear, the most intimate words she has ever spoken. “It was always you - I love you.”

“I love you too,” you say, every molecule of your body shouting the words, even if they left your lips as little more than a light gasp.

You thrust between her spread legs, and she wraps her thighs and arms around you, making the two of you into one.

You fill her. She sighs, moans - and when your cheeks press against each other as you both lie there, breathing heavily - you can feel her cheeks pull her lips into a smile.

---

“It was always going to be you and me, wasn’t it?”

You are caught a little off-guard by her words - truth be told your mind was solely fixated on the humble sign outside your favourite sushi restaurant and the familiar but delicious culinary delights that awaited you. It’s a Friday night, and you were looking forward to a quiet dinner with her following a long, draining week of work.

The choice of dining establishment was a foregone conclusion, and you had nothing on your mind other than settling into a simple but comforting meal with her. Grand statements of destined love weren't exactly on your mind - not this early in the evening, anyway.

But when you turn to her and find a soft, warm smile on her lips, you couldn’t help but agree. She doesn’t even turn to look at you - her gaze, like yours, is locked on the old, dingy, familiar restaurant sign.

“Yes,” you answer, the word leaving your lips quickly, almost on instinct, almost on reflex, as though your body knew the truth - knew what you felt, in your innermost core. “It was always going to be you, Nayeon.”

She doesn’t turn her head to look at you. There is a slight deepening of the smile on her lips, a slightly deeper blush on her cheeks, but that’s it. She doesn’t need to read your face to verify or discern the truth in your expression. She is confident enough - in the years you’ve spent together, in the trials and tribulations borne at each others’ side, to know the truth in your words.

She feels it in the way you clutch her hand, the way you hold her close in your most intimate moments, the way you brush stray hairs away from her forehead when you kiss her good morning before heading out the door to work.

She sees it in the slight swell in her belly, and the family you were building together.

She knows all this. She feels it all, deep inside herself where nothing else exists except you and her and the home you’ve built with shared memories. She knows it is all true, always will be.

When you enter the restaurant you are greeted warmly with a smile and hug by the waiter - he’s become a good friend in the years since your escapades in Tokyo and Seoul. From behind the counter, Jisoo looks up from her prep work to wave and smile widely. She leaves the counter for a moment to greet you both, revealing the full roundness of her belly. She waddles awkwardly over, exchanging hugs, confirming plans for next week’s gender reveal dinner party for their child.

With one hand, Nayeon cradles Jisoo’s full belly. Perhaps unconsciously, her free hand hovers over her own, a warm, thoughtful smile on her lips.

Eventually, Jisoo shuffles adorably back to the counter to finish her vegetable prep, promising to come back later to chat. The waiter shows you to your table, leaving you both two cups of tea.

He doesn’t leave a menu, because he already knows your order.

You tap the chest pocket of your jacket as you take it off and drape it over the back of your seat, making sure the small box and the engagement ring within were still there.

Nayeon cups her tea in both hands before taking a small sip. She finally locks eyes with you, although she doesn’t say anything. She knows she doesn’t have to. She’s content just to smile, content to reach her hand over the table, palm up, wanting nothing more than to feel your hand in hers.

Maybe she knew what was coming. Maybe she caught a glimpse of the box in your nightstand drawer, or noticed an open tab on your browser for a local jewelry store. Maybe she read it in your face at some point today, in the way you moved or the words you chose. She was a former detective and current professor of criminology, after all. She’d made a living out of reading people, and to her, you were an open book.

But it didn’t matter whether she knew it was coming or not, whether she would be surprised at all when, at the end of your meal, you got down on one knee in this restaurant where your relationship began and asked her to spend the rest of her life with you.

Because you both already knew, on some level had always known. It was always going to be you and her. And every trial and tribulation, every painful relationship with long-gone lovers, every day apart - it had all led to tonight.

Nayeon’s hand finds yours and your fingers intertwine.

Your heart warms at her touch.

---

Author’s Note: Good to be back ^^ Excuse any writing rust that was evident in this fic :( I actually had this alternate ending to BT mostly written awhile ago, but I'd been thinking about coming back to writing again and Nayeon's comeback gave me all the inspiration I needed to finally finish it.

Shoutout to @capslocked, whose work played a part in getting me back into writing. A special shoutout to his Tzuyu fic, which is probably one of my favorite smuts of all time - and I might have borrowed the phone sex idea from it. Love ya bud. Mimosa fic next pls k thx.

Stories and posts will be few and far between, but you’re always welcome to leave an ask. Thank you all for the love and support you've shown me over the past year. <3

#twice #nayeon #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

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mclalan · 4 months

Note

Can you share what your art-making process is? What software and tools do you use?? I'm falling in love with your work!!

Thank you, I'm so happy you like my work and are interested in the process. The short answer is I mostly use Adobe Animate.

I hate how I'm using an Adobe product (although I still regard it as a MacroMedia Flash product), but there's just no other software that compares to its jankiness. Perhaps it's just my long familiarity with the program, but nothing I've experienced matches how it simultaneously feels like drawing in MS Paint and using Microsoft PowerPoint vector shapes. The result is something that feels in-between the two; handmade yet computer-generated.

Typically, I'll start with a hand-drawn sketch, often beginning as a thumbnail done with pencil and paper.

I'll then do a mix of hand drawing and vector shape tool rendering. I use the Paint Brush tool to hand draw strokes, and the line and shape tools mixed with transform to make more geometrically accurate shapes. The design is rendered into divided closed loop shapes, ready to be filled with a solid. The strokes are kept or removed depending on the design.

These fill shapes are then either coloured and rendered in Adobe Animate, using fills, gradients, or a more complex process of masks and effects.

Alternatively, I'll bring all these vector shapes into Photoshop and use them as clipping masks. The vector shapes act like masking taped areas or shields to maintain sharp edges, while the brush is like an atomized airbrush used to build soft volumed forms.

Please excuse all that horrible Adobe Cloud and AI bloatware...

And there we go!

Variations in the process include just using MS Paint, index color in Photoshop, or 3D programs.

Very old works of mine were almost abstract, just exploring digital mark-making, which was a trend I was following in the mid 2010s that I loved. This kind of stuff.

While my current work uses its digital material specificity as an intermediary to the subject in the illustration.

For example, #ersatz.world parodies clip-art and flash edutainment styles but imagines the characters living within that kind of world. The designs are meant to be cute, easy to read, light in computer processing, but also irreverent, janky, and generic too.

People typically regard this sort of clip art style as ephemeral trash, but I always found them charming. I use Ersatz World primarily as a satire vehicle, parodying educational formats to spoof corporate explainer content and digital media.

However, part of the problem with Ersatz is I've made it look too polished, complex, and I've grown too attached to the characters, which I imagine is a typical issue with overbuilding a world. So recently, I've made an even jankier Ersatz-like set of characters to play about with, using an even simpler style with less cohesion. I like to try and use slightly different styles and digital material styles to relate to the property at hand.

That’s why #autonymus has a bitmap digital material and a denser feel to it. Unlike Ersatz, Autonymus is not meant to be an overt semi-meta fiction. It’s not exactly pixel art, but the pixels are just about visible, as the intention is to create a digital expressionist depth to the setting. Although it’s still stylized and not realistic to our world, I definitely still want to evoke semblances of our world. That’s why there’s attention to landscape, plant life, and implied life beyond what you see in the frame with the characters, etc. But I'm still making a cartoon, and I still want it to feel at ease with itself being a digital material work. Characters are therefore flat, simple, stiff, and the speech style is like a bad Shakespeare parody. I like to balance between ugly and appealing, simple and complex, familiar and unfamiliar.

In regard to things like inspiration, references, and my relationship to aesthetic genres; these things certainly factor into my work, perhaps I'm even overtly dependent on them. My work can definitely be post-modernist in method; creating new, ironic, or fragmented interpretations through deconstructing a mix of various styles or methods. But at the same time, I'm still trying to make a digital gestural representation where the aesthetic is driven by my relationship to the software and techniques directly—not simply in an attempt to reference a style. For example, I like drawing lines in sweeping strokes, not to a point of geometric perfection, but just in a way where the curves are smooth and simple. But if I want perfectly curved or straight lines, I'll use the vector tools.

Working this way, you can sort of learn why certain styles and design choices in past vector aesthetics were made, as they would have also needed to make similar choices. That’s why I’m more mindful of using digital material specificity as a foundation to build narrative and subjects upon these days.

For example, genre references like cyberpunk clichés for #cyberhell or late medieval design for #autonymus or 2005 to 2015 era subculture fashion for #gradientgoblinz.

I think it’s important to take inspiration and reference from a wide variety of sources, but I think they’d mean nothing without having something to say or express. Autonymus, although it is a collection of tropes and clichés, isn’t just about that. It’s a story about the tensions of socially constructed systems and how that shapes faith, technology, and the natural world, or at least that's what I'm aiming for anyway.

But despite all that, I think there’s a danger of locking myself into the past by using these methods. For example, using nostalgia and references to past aesthetics can result in just recreating the past in a form of role-play. To avoid that, I try and evoke the past through a messy, inaccurate pastiche rather than caring to accurately re-enact anything. I’m probably not always successful at communicating the deliberateness of this, and it can certainly get very frustrating and pedantic. To be honest, I do kind of hate aesthetic labels (terms like Y2K, global coffee house, utopian scholastic designs from a pre-9/11 world).

I do not believe that a project aimed solely at mapping history through aesthetic styles is worthwhile. Sure, they can be handy for organizing style trends, but they can also be reductive and ahistoric. Who are these people to define the history of these design eras? The result is a kind of suffocating simulation of design history but removed from context, perfect for moodboardism. I wish it felt more tongue-in-cheek, less absolute of itself in its own practice. Instead, it acts to legitimize and engender those making these labels, almost giving them ownership of the design styles. It’s similar to the logic and process of generative AI and its databases in a way, just done manually.

I’m very inspired by artists like Oneohtrix Point Never in this regard, as I think he’s able to create an aesthetic portal to all kinds of memories, feelings, and worlds reminiscent of the past, while still being in the present. It’s more a reflection of how timelines are messy now, like a memory or dream, rather than an audacity to say the past was actually like that, or to try to actually map some kind of timeline.

I think the benefit of this process is how it avoids the other side of the spectrum—being locked into chasing the cutting edge of digital processes. I don't necessarily think using an old digital process means your work inherits the semiotics of old aesthetics. Non-digital mediums don’t have this issue to this degree, as you can still paint in oils and be considered contemporary, or at least it's not frowned upon to such a degree. And I also don't think anyone in the heyday of Flash ever made work the same as I do, especially as computers are more powerful now so can handle more. I probably shouldn't boast too much about that though, as artists at the time probably just had more sense than to use Flash like a painting program! So then, why is my use of Adobe Animate critiqued as obsolete and an aesthetic dead-end? Because to whose standards is this process obsolete? If you value digital aesthetics as an apparatus in industry practice, then sure, my work is redundant.

But as wonderful as the latest tech can be in creating new aesthetics, I do feel it can be overtly dependent on the trends and directions of tech corporations, and therefore act as an indirect propaganda tool to their hegemony over digital aesthetics, such as the ever-demanding processing power needed for simulated realism. If anything, work that does follow in the direction of the latest tech trends is ironically the quickest to date once the trends move on.

I've noticed I've not really described what my work is about, just the process, in this text. But I don't know, maybe I like Flash because it is regarded as redundant. No one really cares about it, so I feel free to make whatever I want, and can decide on form myself, to my own standards, the quality of my work. As fun as making images is, I find it difficult to put into words what it is exactly I'm expressing in my work, and perhaps that would spoil it anyway.

#mclalan #art process

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killevru33 · 2 months

Text

Modern Sukuna x reader? My fav type of brain rot rn (more like obsession but live laugh love)

i saw a video of this guy doing makeup then my brain was like WOAH write this, so i did. MUAH

Modern Sukuna x reader where the reader does his makeup. Fluff with a little sprinkle of something else wink wink (still mostly fluff don’t be deceived)

2023 words. My bad got carried away

NOT edited sorry for any mistakes i cannot be bothered to fix anything i wanna go to sleep XO.

“Can you please stop moving, it is just a headband!” I tell the man in front of me practically yelling in his face.

I watch as he rolls his eyes but complying nontheless. “do you really only have this headband.” He mumbles as I finally get all his hair behind the fluffy headband that melts into his hair seamlessly, the same shade of pink as his.

“Yes, it is.” I lie to him with a smile on my face. He hums moving closer to me once I turn around looking for my moisturizer. I am sitting on our bathrooms sink with the entirety of my make-up bag scattered across countertop. I pop open the lid squeezing a fair amount onto my index finger. Putting the bottle down I turn to face my boyfriend who is now inches from my own face.

My breath catches in my throat as I feel his breath fan across my lips. “What’s this supposed to be?” He asks me without looking at the moisturizer that is sitting on my finger.

I let out a breath bringing it up to his face. “Its moisturizer Sukuna, I’ve put it on you before.” I mutter to him.

He smirks giving me a few inches of space as I turn around for yet another product.

Taking a moment to spot what my next step is, my eyes finally find the familiar primer I use every time I do my makeup.

I take the bottle directly to his face pumping a few drops onto his forehead, cheeks, and chin. I rub it in gently, admiring how clear his skin is. I cannot even recall the last time I saw a pimple on his perfect face.

“I think it’s good princess.” Sukuna speaks out a smirk evident in his tone.

I stop rubbing in the primer leaning back to grab my concealer. “You’ve got great genetics.” I stupidly tell him.

He laughs and it feels like my heart skips a beat. Taking a breath, I remind myself this was my idea in the first place; I begged him for months to let me do this. He just randomly agreed this time catching me of guard as I was prepared for the rejection I have received every time I asked.

I twist open my concealer taking the wand to his face. I smear a fair amount under his eyes concentrating on his inner corners. I put a small bit of product under his nostrils and forehead, finishing with a swipe on each of his upper-jaw lines.

I then grab my eyebrow pencil using one end to brush his brow hairs. I twist the opposite end after flipping the pencil around; skillfully I draw tiny lines onto his already full eyebrows. Sukuna hands me a makeup brush with a thin and sharp shape. The next few minutes I silently carve out his brows.

I feel Sukuna place his hands on my waist, slowly rubbing my hips as I finish up. I turn and grab my setting spray and beauty blender. Sukunas hands come to a stop and then on my left hip I feel a tight pinch. “Ow?!” I screech moving as far back from the man who assaulted my skin.

He chuckles putting his hands on my lower back, pushing back up. “What?” he asks innocently.

I roll my eye deciding to move on from his attack. I spray my beauty blender with my setting spray then onto his face ignoring the way he flinches his face as the mist coats his skin. Once I go to pat the beauty blender onto his skin he flinches again. I eye him trying again only for the same response. “Sukuna.” I warn him only for him to still avoid my beauty blender. “Please just don’t move.” I groan pleading with him.

He does it again, so I grab his chin using most my strength to pull him closer. I hold him in place patting the concealer into his face and he lets me. Afterwords I move to get my liquid contour keeping my hand on his chin. I look over his face and giggle noticing the tone difference between us.

“What’s so funny.” He grumbles eyeing my hands movement. I open the container grabbing my designated brush to rub the contour under his check bones, then onto his nose to define it even more.

“The concealer is definitely not your shade.” I giggle out simultaneously blending the contour in.

He makes a displeased face but stays silent, going back to watching me intently. Satisfied with my blending I switch my contour and brush for my liquid blush, and it’s nominated brush that only ever touches blush products. Quickly I spray the brush with setting spray before dipping it onto the product. I take the brush to Sukunas upper check bone; blending it up till it touches the edges of his brow. Repeating the step on the other side I subconsciously lean into him.

He grabs onto my upper thighs giving them a tight squeeze. I move to add more product onto the brush but before I can apply more to his face he speaks up. “Careful with that, you got a history of blush blindness.”

I pull back astounded from the words that came out of his mouth. “Come again.” I demand more then ask.

“You heard me.” He licks his lips concealing a smirk that I know to well.

My jaw goes slack. “I have never once! Had blush blindness the fuck is you talking about?!”

“Come on be for real.” He deadpans

I grimace shaking my head asking as if a bug was buzzing in my ear. Taking a long breath in I meet his eyes. “I like a rosy look, sue me.”

“Whatever you wanna call it.” He drawls out.

“Are you telling me you don’t like my makeup?” I grill him, putting the blush down getting out the setting spray again.

He rubs my thighs, giving me a soft peck on the check. “No. I just like making your checks rosy myself.”

If it was not for the blush currently on my own skin, he would have seen what he liked. “That’s cheeky” I whisper distracting myself with spraying the setting spray all over his face forcing him to close his eyes, offering me a shield from his eyes to try and compose myself.

I place the setting spray down grabbing one of my most expensive products.

“Give me a warning next time you spray that shit woman.” He coughs out dramatically. I roll my eyes ignoring him as I softly fan his face with my unoccupied hand.

After the setting spray is dry enough for my liking, I place it down and get my press puff. Looking down I place the product Ive been holding onto the counter. My hands slowly open the black lid with the words ‘Huda Beauty’ sketch on-top. I lift the lid, watching as the lose powders particles fly in the air; the smell of fresh florals softly fills the air around us. “Don’t move for this I wanna do it right.” I tell the man whose hands are moving up my body inch by inch.

He hums and I start my attack on his face. Pressing the powder under the contour on his checks, I get more powder onto my puff and outline his nose before going onto the rest of his face with the excess product.

“Mkay now I mascara and lashes.” I beam excitedly, I even went out of my way to save a pair of lashes so I can have fresh ones for this makeup look.

I grab all the items I will need having them ready at my side. Staring with the lashes I peal them off their package taking each one to his eye to map out where I will need to cut them. Getting his eye shape, I take the scissors beside me and cut the lashes to fit his eyes. I expertly get the glue for the application, perfectly aligning it onto the lashes band. Letting the lashes sit I grab my eyelash curler. “I’m gonna place this on your lashes, when I say so just blink really hard to curl them.” I instruct moving the curler to his lashes. He listens and closes his eyes after I say so making the process easy for me. I move back and trade the eye lash curler for my lash glue. I grab Sukunas chin and get even closer. Keeping my palm on his cheek I tell him to close his eyes. I gently place the lash glue right above where his lashes grow being as precise as I can.

I move myself back finished with the lash glue. I just stare at him for a moment, catching his deep brown eyes. He must be one of gods favourites. I study his face without shame. If I was a bystander it would look like I had hearts in my eyes. Maybe I do, but I cannot help it. From the sharpness of his bone structure to the thickness of his lashes and brows that most girls would kill for. His beauty sometimes overwhelms me even so I can never rip my eyes from it.

“you’re to pretty Kuna.” I tell him in my daze.

He stares at me unmoving for what feels like forever. The silence so loud between us. Then he moves quicker then my eyes can adjust to. Capturing my lips breathless kiss. I want to pull away and tell him he is going to ruin all the hard work I put into his makeup, to my disappointment he reads my mind. i’m left breathless and now I know for certain there I have heart eyes. Disheartening I do not go in for a second kiss, instead I go for the lashes, picking each one up to perfectly place upon his upper lash line; making sure the inner corners stay down.

I reach for my fluffiest brush to brush away all the powder that was baking on his face.

I look over his face, my smile starts to hurt. I look behind me for the finial touch. I grab the last step unscrewing the top, hearing a pop! As it opens. I pucker my lips motioning for him to do the same.

I glide the pinky gloss over his slightly swollen lips due to the kiss we shared.

Putting the gloss down I let out a soft shriek, pushing his hands off my waist I squeeze past him rushing for my phone. As soon as I come back into the bathroom I snap unnecessary amount of pictures.

“Oh, your in for it now.” Sukuna smirks reaching for my phone only for me to pull away, running out of the bathroom into our shared room.

Giggling uncontrollably like a little girl I go to the living room on one side of our coffee table. He’s right behind me the entire time now parallel to me. In a flash he jumps over the table snatching me up in his arms. I scream as we crash onto the couch. Sukuna grabs my phone tosses it without a single care somewhere on the other end of the couch. He has me trapped beneath him. I wiggle my hands free cupping his face. I gasp “I forgot highlighter!”

He scoffs at me, ignoring my distress. “I did something for you.” He starts taking a pause looking down to my lips. “Now I think it is only fair you do something for me.” I cannot even respond before he smashes his lips to mine much more rough compared to the last one. He picks me up, wrapping my legs around his waist I don’t break the kiss. I run my hands up his hair. He takes us back to the bathroom, putting me down. He walks to the shower starting. He comes to where I am standing pulling my shirt followed by my pants. I tug at his shirt and he does the same. I go into the shower changing the temperature while he joins me.

Lets just say the makeup didn’t last long.

#sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk ryomen #jjk x you #jjk sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna fluff #x reader #jjk

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jordynbreeloa777 · 7 months

Note

Can you tell me the things that you've manifested?

Take love 💖

Hi anon! Also im not FULLY DONE with all my “big” manifestations i have manifested a lot in my journey! LONG POST AHEAD👀

sharp jawline, high defined cheekbones, slim face, overall 0 face fat, and a L, V shaped jawline. I lovee that I manifested this one because people literally ask me if I do mewing, and how my jawline is so sharp I manifested this with subliminals, even though I kinda already had a defined face I definitely enhanced it to the max ✨

thicker, fuller, better shaped brows. I think I mentioned this in one of my last post but I also manifested this with subliminals & robotic affirmations, this is probably my biggest one since I manifest it in a day 😭 I swear before my eyebrows was so thin, didn’t fit my face, and was giving pencil. But now it’s so pretty and my mom always tells me “ you always look like you got your eyebrows done” and “ did you brush your brows today?” 💈🎀

smaller nostrils. Which also I used subliminals, there is a visible change in my nose as the nostrils go more /\ instead of () which I love and the tip is more rounded, im not really done with this though because I may manifest a desired nose shape instead of just smaller👀

lips, this one is kinda self explanatory but I manifested plumper lips, pinker, and pointy lip corners also by subliminals 👄

clear skin, which I love because my skin use to have tiny bumps, but it’s clear and even though I manifested this a while ago it still IS! my friend asked me for my skincare rountine which was literally a affirmation in the subliminal 🫣

hair. I’m not done with this, but my hair definitely got much thicker then it was before 💇🏽‍♀️

lashes. My lashes are thicker, but im not done with this eitherr because I want them to be a little longer so half succes story ig 🫶🏽

‘TEETH. I have braces, so I didn’t manifest teeth change, because obviously the braces is already fixing my teeth plus I love how they look on me, but I manifested white teeth 🦷

~BODY TEAA⏳

less neck lines, I got these because of fake necklaces and it made me not like it so I manifested it away💋

strong, defined, collar bones, I already had this but I enhanced it and it’s so much more noticeable!

arms. I manifested slimmer, toner, longer arms ( I already had long arms but again I enhanced them)

fingers & nails. This one is kinda big, but my nails are so long and strong even my toe nails 😭 But I cut them ofc and my fingernails break because of sports so I may manifest them to never break even though they grow SUPER fast💨

flat stomach, which I manifested using subliminals it’s literally like paper, but I may manifest for it to still be flat when I get bloated because your girl still likes to buss down food🤗

thicker thighs. My thighs don’t have a gap, and there a little toned which I lovee (also subs)✨

bigger booty meatt- this may be tmi but I had to add it. I may manifest it to be bigger but y’all… it be showing. literally my friends be harassing me everytime I wear dresses😒

🍒- I manifested for them to look pretty, there not to big, not to small there like C cup and I love themm, so mwah

taller height. I was at first like 5’4 and now im 5’6.. not to tall not to short but i love my height my Dad even asked me “are you having a growth spurt” plus my legs are so long now <3

i manifested good exam marks.. only A’s & B’s without even studying 📚

SATS.

i manifested for my knees, elbows, and knuckles to all be the same color by affirming I have a even body skintone 🤞🏽

now this is probably all i manifested in the 4 years i been in the community! I’m still not “done” with all my “big manifestations” or my “journey” but I know it’s coming to an end 💝

#law of assumption #manifesting #neville goddard #loassumption #manifesation #loa tumblr #affirm and persist #robotic affirming #askfirmations #success story #loa success #subliminal results #subliminals #subliminal

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apocalypse-shuffle · 2 months

Text

PENELOPE GARCIA (criminal minds | criminal minds: evolution)

────────────────────

“As Always” (Penelope Garcia x Fem!Reader)

| You reassure Penelope about her choice in outfit for y’all’s group night out (that’s really a double date) after she gets a little too in her own head about her appearance. As far as you’re concerned though she looks fine…very fine.

| SFW, getting ready, established relationship, the reader-insert is absolutely taken with Penelope (the feelings are mutual)

| Source: Criminal Minds & Criminal Minds: Evolution

| 700+ words

“Are you sure this’s okay? I really don’t want to be one of those women that shows up overdressed to an event on someone else’s big day,” she snaps her fingers, eyes widening behind her wide-rimmed cat-eye glasses, before her hands go back to smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from the skirt of her dress. “Like wearing white to someone else’s wedding— oh my god! Is there too much white on this dress? Do I look like some hack attending a wedding who’s wearing white out of pettiness?”

At the rush of her words you don’t even bat an eye, raising a single brow at the other woman.

“Penelope, Sweet Girl, it’s just the club.”

“Yes, but it’s also Derek and Savannah’s first night away from baby Hank. I don’t want to make it weird by showing up dressed too sexily.”

Penelope wasn’t wrong per say. Savannah had bounced back crazy good after giving birth, only retaining baby fat in ‘all the right places’ according to Derek’s forward ass, but she’d still undeniably transitioned to dressing more like a “mother” than she used to.

Only slim fitting pencil skirts and the occasional maxi length dress for y’all’s girl now.

Where you’re sitting on the edge of the bed in Penelope’s room, and watching her check herself out in the mirror, you don’t stop yourself from running your eyes up and down her body in response to what she’s said.

She’s staring at you when your eyes travel back upwards and her reflection meets your gaze in the mirror.

You grin, throwing her a wink.

“Mm, that’ll be impossible to help. You always look sexy.”

In real time you watch the tips of her ears shift from their usual pale to blush pink to the most poignant of reds.

Penelope laughs and waves you off with a little snort and a, “Stop it.”

“No thank you,” you respond cheekily, pushing yourself to your feet so you can walk over to her.

Once you’re standing directly behind her and you’re able to run your hands down her arms you rest your chin over her shoulder.

Lashes fluttering, she gives you this tender little smile and leans into your hold. You squeeze her wrists then rub your hands up and down her forearms.

In her kitten heels, bright colored corset, and short skater dress and matching jewelry she looks to die for.

You press a kiss to her cheek. You’d happily give a hundred peoples lives to keep that smile on her face. Not that you’d ever tell her that, obviously.

“Now stop worrying. You’ll get nothing but compliments about how cute you are right now from our friends, and you know it.”

She huffs, blonde curls bouncing with her movement and briefly obscuring your sight. You chuckle through the curtain of golden strands before delicately brushing her hair back over her shoulder and pressing yourself even more securely to her back.

“But—”

“Uh uh,” you click your tongue, “Unless you have a legitimate concern then there are no ‘buts’ here, Penny Poo.”

She pouts.

“You suck when you’re right.”

Nodding, you let go of her arms to circle your arms around her waist with a brief squeeze.

“Oh, I know,” you coo and blow a raspberry into her shoulder. “It’s a curse.”

“It’s hot is what it is.”

For a second you're helpless but to choke on your spit, you’ve sucked in such a sharp breath.

“Jesus, fuck, Penelope,” you cough, eyes watering, and back away from her so you can hack into your fist.

Her evil laughter meets your ears just as you’ve cleared your throat and then her soft hands are on you.

She rubs at your back until you're good and meets your eyes the moment you’ve straightened.

“Oh ho no, My Lovely Stunning Woman, you are not getting out of this now. Let me make you swoon like you make me everyday.”

Though it doesn’t show against your darker skin, you flush. “Right?”

“Hell yeah.” She grins then moves her hands so she can cup your face between them both, light hands ever gentle against the dewy brown of your skin. You shiver, blinking at her through your lashes in wonder. “You gonna let me kiss you, Honey?”

“I’d be crazy not to.”

“Yes,” she laughs, “yes you would be.” Then her lips are on yours and every ounce of the world around you that’s not solely narrowed in on your partner falls away.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!!

I figured I’d add to the Pen x Reader cache on here because, why not, I love Penelope’s character. We’ll see how much traction this gets because I can’t even guess.

#penelope garcia #criminal minds #black!reader #black y/n #penelope garcia x black!reader #criminal minds x black!reader #bisexual penelope garcia #(mentioned: Savannah Hayes Derek Morgan & Hank Spencer Morgan - who’s staying the night with his Aunties)#penelope garcia imagine #penelope garcia x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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madisockz · 6 months

Text

Hello! I wanted to share my process of how I made my Easter Pony! She is my second ever custom and she made all the trouble I had with the first one seem like a walk in the park in comparison ಥ_ಥ Let's begin!

DISCLAIMER: Custom ponies like this one are not to be played with by children nor made by children. This pony was made with the use of nail polish remover (acetone) which is toxic. You need to wash your hands throughly after use and use in a well ventilated area. This pony was also made with sharp tools such as an xacto knife, sewing pins, rehairing needles, and an awl.

First, the concept art! Trial and error caused her to look a little different than the concept art but I still love the end result!

I wanted to start with a white base to give myself a clean canvas for dyeing so I got this G3 Breezie off Ebay for only $3. I decided to first remove her mane and tail which requires removing the head. If you know anything about G3 pony customzing, you know their heads are difficult to get back on once they come off. Even when you run them under warm/hot water. So to get it back on for dyeing, I tried trimming a little excess of vinyl off the neck ring with my xacto knife. It slipped and got me right under my nail! Bad omen for what's to come!

After getting her prepped (removing her mane and tail, cleaning her, using acetone (nail polish remover) to remove her cutie mark) she was ready for a dye bath! I used Rit DyeMore as regular Rit Dye won't dye the vinyl material that ponies are made of. This was my first ever time dyeing anything that wasn't fabric so I was thrilled when she came out this warm rich brown! So pretty!

I read online that dyed ponies will leach dye onto other ponies if they touch, so I wanted to try and prevent this as much as possible with some matte sealer. Lesson #1: Even though she was dry, the matte sealer reactivated the dye! The smallest touch left a print! :(

I pushed forward! And tripped immediately after! I thought, "Surely matte Modge Podge will seal her just that much more" and to my dismay, the Modge Podge kept every brush stroke I made when it dried!! She looked like a leather hand bag! ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥᷄⌓˂̣̣̥᷅ )‧º·˚ I learned later you can buy matte Modge Podge spray online but all I had was the type you brush on to your surface.

Thankfully, with the help of sixteen cotton balls and a q-tip with acetone, I managed to remove all the sealer but she was no longer that nice rich brown. Oh well I still loved her!

And whoever said the paint will protect the eyes from the dye has clearly never dyed a dark pony! Her eyes were so brown after this lol

Painting, adding of polymer clay easter themed confetti, and adding her 3D chocolate bunny cutie mark went great! It was all going well until the eyes.

I had never fully painted pony eyes before so the first attempt was pretty bad. Not even my multiple attempts at glitter and using clear nail polish as a cheap gloss on the eyes could save them.

It was so bad that I almost didn't take any pictures but when I went to seal her head, this weird white powder covered half of her face?? I had never seen this before and it freaked me out thinking I just ruined her. I managed to get it off with a cotton ball and some acetone but her paint was fully damaged.

Turns out this was caused because I didn't shake the can of sealer well enough. I needed a break....

While I took a break for a few days, I decided to watch tutorials on how to paint doll eyes and learned that it's actually pretty common to use high quality watercolor pencils; either Faber Castell or Derwent (which is what I ended up buying).

When I came back, I made the hard decision of removing all the paint and decorations from the head and starting over. Hours of work gone but it was so worth it! 🩷 Removing the paint with acetone ended up making her head lighter than her body so I had to redye her head lol. This time I mixed Derwent pencils with acrylic paints for her eyes.

Time for the hair! I've never done curls before and my original plan was to buy curly hair online but it's so hard to find in the color and curl size I wanted.

So my second idea was to buy small curlers to use on regular nylon doll hair bought from ShimmerLocks on Etsy. But when I tested them out on poor Flower Bouquet it looked so bad ಥ_ಥ

I discovered a Youtube channel you may know called Dollightful where in one of her Stock Box videos she used yarn that she unraveled to make super cute tight wavy hair for a doll. It was a perfect solution! It looks so good but omg it was tedious haha! I used it for her tail too; sectioning off the colors hoping they'd stay separated (they didn't lol).

She's nearly complete! Time for small decorations! I tried so many different ears from air dry clay to stealing some from bunny decorations I bought at the store and nothing was working! But I had one last idea...

I gave these old Littlest Pet Shop costume bunny ears some use with a flat top sewing pin and some glue so now my pony has bunny ears! Yay!

I forgot it in the concept art, but I originally wanted to add flowers to her mane but I couldn't figure out how to do that without glue which I didn't want to do, too permanent, so I opted for some beads I had on hand. I didn't have any light blue so I made some with the use of acetone (nail polish remover in my case) and boom! Light blue beads! Then I washed them off so the acetone wouldn't damage anything :)

I used a gold topped sewing pin, a butterfly charm, a felt flower and two faux flowers to create a cute hair accessory!

Finally I sewed a hair tie to a puffball to give her a removable cottontail if I ever wanted to take it off.

And DONE! She looks so good after so much time and effort! I worked on this girly for two weeks I think? She actually had a partner I designed but I've run out of time to make her :') Maybe next year? 👀 🩷🩷

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sachirobabe · 6 months

Text

Chapter 3

Kuroo Tetsurou x reader

Wc: 1664

Summary: You, a dedicated member of the girls' volleyball team, find an unexpected connection with Kuroo Tetsurou. Igniting a bond over shared passions and stolen moments, love blossoms on the court; all because you met him at a captains meeting.

<— Previous | Masterlist | Next —>

Taglist: @merlucide, @lemurzsquad, @02shuuu

After a grueling week, your tryouts officially ended. There was already an idea of what the lineup would be looking like, but your coach wanted to have a meeting about it.

Which is why you're at school on your only days off from both practice and your studies. Normally, meetings weren't every week, but it was a new season so they'd be more frequent for the first couple of weeks.

Your team had been too busy with tryouts to have a practice match with the boys', but it'd be happening this upcoming week and you were so excited.

"Good morning." You say walking into the gym, Kuroo and coach Nekomata were both seated—well Kuroo was on the floor, lying on his stomach.

"Good morning." Kuroo smiled, then began writing on his piece of paper on the floor.

"Where's Mori at?" You look around confusingly, trying to spot her light brown hair, pulled back into a loose pony tail.

"Her office, I think." Kuroo answers.

"I thought she said the bathroom?" Coach Nekomata furrows his brows and in response Kuroo shrugs. You sit down next to him and eye his paper, he's drawing up some lineups.

You frown at the absence of your coach. She made you get up early when you should be sleeping in like the rest of your teammates. The worst part is she didn't bribe you this time so you had nothing to look forward to.

Kuroo finishes and hands his paper to his coach, he examines it and held onto it for a minute or two. He kicks his feet, waiting for feedback. You laugh at him silently, in your head. He's kinda cute.

"What do you think about this, Y/n?" Coach Nekomata hands you the paper, it's slightly crumpled, you're starting to think that all of Kuroo's papers are.

You take it from his hands and look at the rotations, "I think a 5-1 is a good choice, especially if your second setter is clearly outplayed by Kenma." You follow the rotations more, seeing which players are getting switched.

"You guys also run a 5-1 too, right?" Kuroo bites the inside of his cheek, not wanting to sound like a creep for knowing.

"Yeah," you chuckle, "I think it looks great. You have a good use of substitutions." You smile and hand back the paper to him. His hand brushes yours for a millisecond as he grabs it.

"This is the lineup we'll beat your team with." He smirks.

"Oh yeah? Confident, I like it." You say,the door to the gym opens and all of your heads turn. "And where were you? We agreed on 9:30 am sharp. You're late." You lecture.

"Oh please, I don't want to hear it." She laughs. "I was here before you, I just had to get some things from my office." She shuffles some things around in her backpack, then pulls out a blank piece of paper, like Kuroo's, just not crumpled. "Start thinking of some lineups." She says.

You frown, "Can I borrow that?" You point to Kuroo's pencil and he immediately nods and slides it to you. "Thank you."

"I think we got this one in the bag." Kuroo now flips from his stomach to his back and faces the gym ceiling.

"Uh-huh, sure." You draw out the last word. "How many tournaments have you won?"

He clicks his tongue, "We've won."

"Recently?" You raise an eyebrow, staring into his eyes.

He can feel his cheeks begin to heat up, he turns away before you could see, "Yeah well, you lost some valuable players last season."

"We have good first-years." You say, "I heard one of your first-years can't receive well, isn't that what your team's known for?"

The two coaches watch you two banter back and forth, Mori reminding Kuroo that you had to finish the rotations still and to stop distracting you. The meeting was pretty short, there wasn't a lot to cover besides lineups.

"You're staying?" You point between the two coaches, Kuroo and you helped clean up and were ready to leave.

"We've got a board meeting in a little." Coach Nekomata says and you nod, bidding them goodbye for the day as you walk out with Kuroo.

You're not surprised to see that it's lightly raining, since it had been all week, and yet you still didn't bring an umbrella. "You have an umbrella?"

"Of course I do." He chuckles, opening it and luckily it was big enough for the two of you to be under. "Have you eaten already?"

You shook your head, "I was starving that whole time," you laugh, "Have you?"

He shook his head, "There's this convenience store by my house, you wanna go get something?" He strengthens his grip on the umbrella.

"Yeah." You smile.

He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding and turns his head so he can smile like a schoolgirl, he quickly recomposes himself and look forward again.

You thought Kuroo was nice, you've never really gotten to know him, but you were semi-close to Kai, one of his teammates, only because he was in your class.

"How'd you feel about the first week of classes?" You ask after a moment of silence.

"Pretty easy, I'm enjoying it while it lasts." He says and you chuckle.

"Yeah, it gets rough around June and July. We usually use the first hour of practice to study before actually playing." You say.

"So you guys practice less?" Kuroo is intrigued by this, he had never heard of a team doing anything like it.

"No, we extend it to end an hour later, coach just wants to make sure we at least do something productive before practice." You clarify.

He hums, "I'm sure you have no issue passing exams." He compliments.

You smile, "Not really, I study frequently. I could say the same about you." You slightly nudge him.

He shrugs and rolls his eyes playfully, "Aw stop it, I just pay attention, that's all."

"Consider that the last time I compliment you." You laugh.

"I'm kidding! I appreciate it, thanks." He laughs along with you. "This is it." He says, looking both ways before crossing the street to the convenience store. The second you spot food, your stomach began to grumble.

You found yourself in a different aisle than Kuroo, trying to choose from the two onigiri in your hand. You decided to take both, you're extremely hungry. Kuroo came up next to you in line, you noticed he had a sandwich and a drink, an iced tea you think.

It was your turn next in line, you kindly greeted the man at the register and placed your items on the counter. What you didn't expect was to see Kuroo's items placed next to yours, you turn confusingly, but he had already given the man his card.

"You didn't have to—"

"Nonsense. I'm the one who asked you to come." He smiles widely, then quickly takes his card back and puts it inside of his wallet. "Cmon, let's eat." He grabs the bag full of your shared items.

"Thank you." You sincerely say, feeling a little bad about him paying, not that it was expensive, but still.

"Of course." The rain had stopped, the sun began to come out of the gray clouds. He leads you to one of the benches at a nearby park, it had an umbrella so it wasn't too soaked.

"God, I'm starving." He says, handing you your items.

You agree with him and a comfortable silence falls between you two as you're both distracted with eating. You eye the area around you, it was unfamiliar, but it wasn't too far from your home.

You watch an owner play with her dog, repeatedly throwing the ball for the dog to run and get it, it made you smile. You crumble up the wrapper the onigiri was in and place it on the table.

"You know," You begin, Kuroo was also watching the dog, but now his eyes were looking into yours, "I've lived here for a while now and I've never been to this park before."

Kuroo chuckles, "It's nice, right?" And you nod. "Kenma and I would play here all the time."

"That sounds nice." You smile and begin watching the dog again, Kuroo can't help but continue to stare at you.

"He didn't like it very much, his arms would hurt after playing volleyball for a long time." Kuroo recalls the memory.

"I believe that. I'm surprised he's still playing." You honestly say.

"I think he likes it. In his own way." He shrugs. "You and Himari are close, too."

You smile, thinking of your best friend, "Yeah, we grew up next to each other. It was nice having someone in the same grade, it felt like I wasn't going through anything alone."

"I get that, she's like a sister to you." He says and you immediately agree. Both of your families had been close since the day they moved in. "You don't have siblings don't you?"

"No, only child." You shrug.

"I have an older sister." He says.

"Really?" You're surprised, you would've thought he was an only child.

"Yeah, she's way older, so I don't see her very often." As he finishes his sentence, the sun quickly goes away and the sounds of thunder hit your ears. "Oh shit." Kuroo says.

"I think it's gonna rain again." You say, "I better get going."

"I hope it's not too long of a walk." Kuroo says, worried that you're going to get soaked.

"No, don't worry it's not." You smile, "I'll see you later. Thank you again for paying!" You say as you leave, speed walking towards your house.

Kuroo watches you get further and further away, his heart was pounding from the moment you walked into the gym. A small smile remains on his face as he walks back home.

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beomiracles · 10 months

Text

professor, Kang

BRUUUU I LOVE THE IDEA OF SEXC TEACHER TAE OKAY SUE ME mkay anyway enjoy hehe

pairing. taehyun x fem!reader reader is above the age of 18!! this a uni y'all !!!! warnings. implied smut, teacherxstudent relationship sorta (not established) but yk sum goin on at least

A/N ─ she was very well received so here's a part 2 for anyone interested >_<

You never liked physics, in fact you hated it. That's why you'd considered dropping the class before it had even started. But he made class interesting. He made you come to every single one of your physics classes. He made you be on time ⎯ he didn't like when you were late. You wore high ponytails, he liked that. Glasses placed neatly on the bridge of your nose, your skirt, a little too short to be considered everyday wear, rode up your thighs.

Sitting at the front row, slightly to the left, that's where he wanted you, the desk closest to his. Legs crossed and the tip of your pen stuck between your lips as you watch his every move. The way he walks back and forward with long and calculated strides. Slim hands occasionally pointing toward the board, you thought you could make out a few veins. The black shirt hugging his slim waist whilst accentuating his muscled arms. The glasses making his sharp and angelic features look impossibly more delicate.

You find your mind wandering.. fantasizing. The same slim and delicate fingers roughly spreading your bare thighs apart. His voice like running silver, except he's not talking about physics anymore. Clenching your thighs subconsciously whilst biting on your pen. You're brought back to reality by that same silvery voice ⎯ "is all well, miss y/l/n?" His voice is indifferent but you can feel his eyes on you, all over you, in places where they shouldn't be. You nod quietly and your gaze drops back to the notebook in front of you.

The sound of chairs dragging across the floor fill the room. Bags are being thrown around as people chatter excitedly, it was Friday after all. You tell your friends that you'll catch up to them later, slowly you pack up your things. You glance up at the desk in front of you, your professor looks engrossed in the paper in front of him. As the classroom empties out you hesitantly stand up ⎯ the noise making him look up at you. "Is something wrong miss y/l/n? Shouldn't you be heading out with the other students?"

You bite your lip frustratedly, thinking of an excuse, anything. Finally you take a small step forward, "Erm.. it's just..I didn't really get this part..." you say and point at a highlighted part of your notes. Your professor frowns and beckons you closer with his fingers, you feel your panties dampen at the thought of what those fingers could do to you. Your hands brush as you hand him the paper.

He scans the text you'd pointed at before sighing and removing his glasses. Pointing at the board he says "Show me what you understood and I'll help you with the rest." You gulp as you make your way to the board, suddenly becoming aware of the outfit you'd chosen. Pulling at your skirt before you grab a pencil and start writing ⎯ you had lied earlier, you understood everything perfectly. For someone not liking physics you never missed a class and Mr Kang was really an excellent teacher. Still you write down formulas ⎯ feeling your professors eyes on you, wandering.

You leave out a few parts and just as you're about to turn around to face your professor you feel him behind you. Your back almost pressing against his chest as he towers over you. "Alright.." he says in his usual smooth voice, your heart flutters at the thought of him being this close and you resist the urge to squeeze your legs together. He begins explaining what you already know and your mind wanders off for the third time today.

He clears his throat causing you to jump slightly, "S-sorry?" you say. "Pencil." he says in a more annoyed tone. "O-oh right...sorry." you say as you quickly hand him the pencil you'd been using. Writing down another formula on the board he leans forward and now your back is firmly pressed to his chest. You're almost certain he can hear your heart practically beating out of your chest. That is until you feel it, thick and hard prodding at your lower back. You feel your checks turn crimson red as you bite your lip ⎯ your professor however seems completely unbothered by the situation.

When he finishes explaining he leans away, leaving you feeling empty despite never actually having him. You turn around to face him for the first time in almost 20 minutes. Unable to read his expression but not daring to look down you maintain eye contact, chewing on your bottom lip nervously. When you realise he's waiting for you to speak you scramble for words. "I...yes I think I got it now...thank you.." you stutter, back pressed against the board still, you're caged.

He doesn't answer but lifts his arm, slim fingers brushing a strand of hair out of your face. "You don't have to lie to me miss y/l/n." his voice is low, "If you wanted to see me you could've just said so." You nod ⎯ avoiding his gaze. "I know you talk, use your words" he says in a stern voice making you squirm. "That goes for class too" he adds, "No more nodding", you almost nod again before catching yourself. "Yes professor", you breathe out eyes meeting his.

He steps back, freeing you from your temporary cage which was him and the board behind you. Sitting down behind his desk as you scramble for your belongings, you whisper a, "Have a good weekend" before making your way out.

Just as you reach the door he speaks, "Y/n?" the use of your first name makes you stop dead in your tracks. "Y-yes..?" You turn around. Your professor's eyes wandering lustfully over your body, "Don't bite your lips like that in class." he says his voice no different from when he teaches. "You have no idea what it does to me."

#kang taehyun #taehyun x reader #professor x student reader #professor taehyun #txt fanfic #taehyun fanfic #tyunnie's dreams

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artharakka · 4 months

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Your art is so pretty!! I especially love the way the thinner, more subtle lines work with the light colors! It makes everything look very soft and dreamy in a really pleasant way.

I also adore the painterly style in some of the illustrations accompanying the Finnish poetry. You also did a great job with the translations, Finnish is my native language and I know how hard it can be 😭.

Anyways this isn’t really an ask im just excited and glad to find another cool person. Also, suomi mainittu is just a plus.

Thank you! I originally started to use the chracoal/soft pencil like brush for my digital art because I wanted to teach myself to focus on bolder shapes rather than very tiny details (that took a lot of time!!). The texture of it is much more forgiving than sharp line art pens' and I also really like how it looks 🧡

And, tbh, English is bit harder to me than Finnish because another native Finnish speaker here! I tried to study to be a translator, but switched to just studying English literature. I do still enjoy translating things for my own amusement, but oh boy translating is harder than it looks! There're some small things I would change in those translations from Moonday Letters but oh well, those have already circulated kinda far.

Ja kiitti myös suomeks! 🧡🦢

#torille 💃🏼#also the texts from Moonday Letters/Kuunpäivän kirjeet are very poetic but it is actually and entire novel!#ask

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peachinthenight · 1 year

Text

Black On Black

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Rated: M

Read on AO3

Summary: You've always had a bit of a thing for men in makeup, especially that black eye makeup Bruce wears under his cowl, and you won't pass up an opportunity to help him get ready for patrol.

Any sane person would run and hide as soon as night fell over Gotham. But your boyfriend? He was putting on a bat-themed crime-fighting suit to go beat people up. He’s insane. You like that.

He was in his lair, preparing for a night out. Alfred was on the supercomputer, examining some security footage from the night before.

“Bruce is in his corner,” Alfred told you wryly, his eyes glued to the monitor.

“Thanks,” you said in response as you went into Bruce’s corner. It was a little alcove that Bruce used to get ready in. Behind one of the train cars, you found Bruce, in front of a table. He was wearing the suit, sans his cowl and gloves. The table had all sorts of gadgets, half of which you didn’t even know what they did. You also noticed that he hadn’t put his makeup on yet. Perfect. It’s all coming together.

Bruce spared you a glance as you approached him.

“Can I help?” You said, your voice quiet. “I want to help put your makeup on,” you clarified as you got closer to him.

“You… want to what?” He said, his brow furrowing. As if that was the most outlandish thing you had ever asked him.

“I want to put your makeup on,” you said. “Do you not want me to?”

Bruce didn’t seem to really register the request— he had shock on his face as if you just asked to marry him. His lips press together in a thin line before he finally gives a small nod. You smile widely.

You bounced over to him in excitement. It really was all coming together. Your master plan.

Bruce looked you up and down, only just now noticing you were wearing one of his shirts.

“Do you do it in a special order?” You ask, sitting on the table he was next to, pulling the small makeup bag into your hands. You unzipped it and looked at the contents. A black, jumbo eyeliner pencil. A MAC Paint Pot in black. Wow, they still made paint pots? Also various eye shadow singles. All in black, of course. And he had a few makeup brushes, too.

"Umm... No, you don't have to. First— Let's start with the eyeliner." He murmured, reaching into the bag and pulling out the eyeliner pencil. You took it from his calloused fingers.

“You’re just gonna let me do whatever I want?” You ask, with an almost devilish smile on your face. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him close. His hands plant themselves down on the table, on either side of your thighs.

He hissed out your name.

“Really?” He said quietly but sternly. “Now?”

He tried to sound irritated but his cheeks were soft, cute pink.

"What? You really think I didn't have any ulterior motives?"

"Well..." He trails off, flushing a little darker, "I sort of suspected, but I didn't think you'd be so... uh, blatant.”

“I’m starting now,” you said pointedly, taking the cap off of the eyeliner pencil.

Before you started, you couldn’t help but take one good look at his features. Bruce’s lips are on the thinner side, and well-formed with a perfect cupid’s bow. His cheekbones are impressive, and he has a straight nose and sharp jaw. His most striking feature, though, is his eyes. Bruce has a deep blue-grey color, framed by his thick, black eyelashes, with dark circles around them from the lack of sleep. He looks intimidating. And hot.

You began by very delicately lining his waterline and lashline with the black. He didn’t even flinch or blink as you did so. You found this to be one of the more uncomfortable steps of makeup, and you were impressed that he took it so well. That’s not to say it wasn’t uncomfortable for him, he could feel the eyeliner tickling his eyelashes, but it was a small price to pay to be so close to you, and to see your cute, impish smiles directed at him.

"Okay, so you're really gonna let me do this however I want?" You asked, just making sure.

"Uh— I suppose so," he responded, sounding unsure of it himself.

“Close,” you told him, and he closed his eyes for you.

You take the MAC Paint Pot and dip into it with a brush. The creamy eyeliner glides on effortlessly. You spread it across his eyelids, and down under his eyes. You notice that Bruce is squirming.

“The uncomfortable part is already over,” you murmured, “why are you so squirmy?”

He let out a breath and his eyes fluttered open. "Well," Bruce begins, seemingly breathless, "It's, uh... You're... touching me."

He was nestled between your thighs, your legs hooked around his waist, keeping him close. As he spoke, his warm breath fanned over your face. His breath smelt like peppermints.

You and Bruce have been dating for a year and a half now, but he was still uncomfortable with non-sexual intimacy.

“Do you want me to stop?” You offered, your legs unwrapping from his waist, allowing him to move away, if he so wished.

He took in a deep breath and shook his head. "No... I'm okay,” he said, shifting his weight. He leaned in closer.

“Just— when you hold me with your legs like that, it’s… hot,” he breathed out.

You picked up a matte black eyeshadow single, and a dry brush. “Are we talking temperature or seductive?” You ask, knowing his answer already.

He hesitates for a moment. "Just..." He trails off, giving in to you, "the second one."

Bruce just made it way too easy to tease him. But he was already a bit uncomfortable, so you held off your teasing remarks. Instead, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his in a sweet and chaste kiss.

“Close your eyes,” you instructed again. You began to pat on the black eyeshadow atop the eyeliner. Bruce’s hand moved from the table to your left hand, which held the eyeshadow in it. With his eyes still closed, he moved the eyeshadow single out of your hand, so he could lace his fingers with yours. His cheeks were noticeably pink. His eyes open again, as you brush the black eyeshadow underneath his eyes, using soft and gentle motions.

You were done.

Well. It didn’t take long to smear black all over the eyes. He looked like a raccoon. But like, a sexy and intimidating raccoon. His eyes were still shut, and you spotted a bottle of setting spray. He really did go all out, huh? You sprayed a mist of setting spray over his face, and you used your hand to fan him, trying to get it to dry faster.

“All done,” you said softly.

"Alright... Let's see..." He turned his head to look at a mirror nearby, and he took a glance at himself. You did a good job, turning the area around his eyes into little black voids.

“Did I do good?” You asked, looking at his face as he looked into the mirror. “I may have gone a tad zealous, but I wanted to make sure I got the whole area.”

"You did pretty well," he admitted, "Maybe a little too well..”

“If I did such a good job, I should help you out more often,” and you’d never say no to an excuse to spending time with Bruce, and being physically close to him.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at you. “You don’t hate it?”

You couldn’t suppress an eye roll. “What do you mean? I’ll do anything to be close to you.”

"Really?" he asks, looking deep into your eyes, "Anything?"

“You’re going to make me regret saying that, aren’t you?” You said wryly.

“I don’t know,” he said, leaning closer until his nose was nearly touching yours. "You want me to?" he asks, his breath fanning your skin.

His voice was low and seductive, it caused your heart to quicken, and your body to feel as if it was burning.

“You’re teasing me,” you breathed out. Bruce didn’t tease often. Not like this. He must really be in a good mood, you mused.

"Maybe I am..." he admits, the smile not leaving his lips as he spoke. His peppermint-scented breath kept hitting your face, keeping you hot. His eyes were locked with yours, and his smile was smug. He seemed slightly proud of his teasing, but your reaction was definitely encouraging.

Bruce wasn’t like this often, so you reveled in the attention; in his teasing. Your body felt hot in the best possible way. He was causing your heart to beat so hard in your chest that you swore he could feel it through his armor plates.

“You getting tight in that suit, Bruce?” You asked, your voice hitching. “Or am I the only one getting hot under the collar.”

Bruce chuckled a low rumble from his chest. “Just a little,” he said, his cheeks still a soft pink. “You make it too easy, you know,” he murmured. Words you once told him, when he complained of your incessant teasing. You bit down on your lower lip and stared into his eyes. His beautiful, beautiful eyes.

“If Alfred wasn’t here,” you said, your voice quiet. “I’d have you out of that suit already.”

Bruce finally closed the distance, leaning forward just an inch so your lips met his. You attempt to deepen the kiss, but Bruce pulls away, causing a low whine to escape from your lips.

“Alfred,” he reminded.

“He’s not paying attention,” you whisper.

“Alfred always pays attention,” he responded quietly.

You huff, but relent.

“Bruce,” Alfred’s voice called out, causing the Bats within the abandoned subway station to screech and scatter. “The signal is up,” Alfred stated.

Bruce let out a sigh, being pulled from their own little world back into their grim reality was like a bucket of cold water being thrown on your head. He gave you an apologetic look. Your kiss had given him an emotional high, but Alfred had pulled him back to earth.

“Right,” Bruce breathed out. He gave you another kiss; tender and loving. He smiled at you, but it looked pained. He quickly slipped on his gauntlets, still not really moving away from you.

“Don’t— don’t forget that you have someone waiting at home for you, alright?”

Please don’t do anything stupid. Don’t take any unnecessary risks. Please come home to me.

“I won’t.” He assured you with a gentle kiss on the forehead.

Bruce grabbed his cowl and put it on. It was time for Batman to answer his signal.

#Bruce Wayne x Reader #Battinson x Reader #Bruce Wayne x You #DC x Reader #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #Bruce Wayne #Peach's Writing

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lovinqmils · 1 year

Text

ꜰᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʜᴏᴍᴇ┊ avatar x human!reader

Warnings: follows avatar twow plot (aka spoils the whole thing) , sfw (don't even try me w anything weird) , some ooc, use of y/n, female reader

can also be found on wattpad: @lovinqmils

THIS IS A STORY (NOT A ONESHOT) SO IT'LL HAVE MULTIPLE PARTS

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍...

you manage to get lost on your way home, you unintentionally get yourself caught in a sketchy science experiment...yikes. you wake up in a foreign land (or shall I say planet) that filled with 8-10ft tall blue...creatures?

read along to find out how this interesting adventure unfolds !

according to google the oldest of the sully kids was 15, so the reader is 14-15yrs. please pretend the reader could get to pandora in a couple months, js for story purposes :))

TW: KIDNAPPING

PART 1: ❝ PANIC ❞ 1.7k words

"this doesn't look familiar..." you muttered, frantically wiping your phone screen dry from the pouring rain, trying to find out where in the world you were. but no matter how hard you swiped and tapped your phone was frozen still , completely ruined from the rain. still in denial , you continued trying to get your phone to cooperate with you , failing to notice the white van pulling up towards you.

after feeling a light splash of the cold rain splash onto your legs, you look up making direct eye contact with a blonde-haired man wearing a white lab coat with the letters 'RDA' sewn onto the left side.

"oh my ! sorry to bother you, but do you know the fastest way to get to xxx station?" you ask, a bit loudly as he still hasn't rolled down the window.

the back door of the van slides open, a fairly muscly man dressed in a black tank top and matching cargo pants steps outside. strolling over towards you, "what'd you need , darling?"

feeling slightly intimidated, you take a step back realising just how dangerous this situation is, "oh, uhm...don't worry about it..thank you for your help though"

"now now, where do you think you're off to?" the muscly man chuckles, roughly grabbing your arm. he leaned in so close you could smell all the smoke and alcohol he consumed.

"let go of me !" you attempt to pull yourself away , but unfortunately his grip only tightened.

panicking, you started to scream and kick anywhere you could , but he managed to wrap one of his arms around you and drag you into the van. you took a last glimpse of the dimly lit street, your phone laying on the wet concrete , broken. the doors to the van slammed shut and sped off to an unknown location. you felt a damp cloth being stuffed into your mouth and in no time everything went black.

༻✧༺ ༻✧༻༻✧༺ ༻✧༻༻✧༻

TW: operation?, syringes

your eyelids still too heavy to open , you felt restraints tied around your hands and legs forcing you to lie as stiff as a pencil. your senses seemed to be dulled but you managed to make out a conversation between 2 people who stood on either side of you

"boss..you got fired from the RDA years ago...do you even think she's gonna make it through the transportation?"

"quiet! just because we don't have all the fancy equipment does not mean this project is impossible! now pass me the scalpel."

'...scalpel? are they operating on me!?'

your body immediately tensed, your tried to force your eyes open but they wouldn't budge. so you resulted to jerking your body in any direction possible.

"SHE'S MOVING! HURRY AND PASS ME THE SYRINGE!"

you felt a tiny prick in your arm and once again, everything faded into complete darkness.

༻✧༺ ༻✧༻༻✧༺ ༻✧༻༻✧༻

your eyes shot open, you sat up looking around you. you were in a forest, filled to the brim with exotic colourful plants. the trees towered over you , the trunk was at least 50ft tall.

"where am i...?" you muttered. as beautiful as this place was it definitely was not home. you brushed your hair out of your face and stood up, you've got to find a way out of here. after some scavenging, you managed to create a makeshift spear, consisting of a sharp stone that was tied to a sturdy stick with a couple of hair ties.

"anyone!? hello..!! can somebody please help me!?" you started to walk mindlessly deeper into the forest shouting for what you hoped, would be help.

"is anyone there!? pleas-" you were cut off by an extremely tall blue creature landing in front of you, aiming a dagger that would definitely do more damage than your spear directly to your throat.

"w-wait..what are you..." you stumbled back unable to finish your sentence gripping onto your spear for dear life.

you heard the blue creature make some sort of screaming sound, alerting 6 other 8ft tall blue creatures to land on all sides of you. you were surrounded.

hyperventilating, you swung your makeshift spear around, trying to create an opening however they only moved closer. a slim blue fist collided with your left cheek, the force throwing you to the ground. the pain you felt was unbearable , and the stinging sensation in your cheek caused tears to roll down your face. you were picked up by the front of your shirt, and one of the creatures held its dagger against your neck. at this point you were frozen still, were you gonna die..?

unexpectedly, you heard a loud whistle which must've startled whoever whatever was holding you as it let go of your shirt, dropping you to the floor.

as soon as you made contact with the floor, you scrambled over to your 'spear' and held it protectively. the 7 blue creatures that had ambushed you earlier stood in a line listening to a taller blue creature. this 'taller one' looked more mature, and was probably the leader of whatever these things were.

when all 8 of the 8ft+ creatures turned in your direction, you started swinging your spear at the air screaming with every movement you made.

"don't! ugh..come! any! closer!!"

as the tallest one started to approach you, the adrenaline vanished along with any other courage you had. so you threw the spear and took off into a sprint.

it certainly wasn't easy running in a forest where you're the size of an ant so you only made it about 15 meters before you tripped.

you looked up to see all 8 of those creatures directly in front of you, the 7 you saw before looking especially angry.

"w-wait! I'm sorry, p-please...don't kill me!" hot, salty tears raced down your face, as you desperately tried to crawl away.

"stop." the tallest one was now crouched in front of you, "what's your name ,and who sent you?" he asked, his amber eyes staring into your soul.

"...you speak english?" you breathed out, feeling relieved that you weren't as alone as you thought

"answer the question" he repeated, the 7 other creatures reaching for their weapons

"okay..okay ! just don't kill me" you took a deep breath,

"m..my name is, y/n l/n and I wasn't sent by anybody...I was ki..kidnapped by some crazy people and ended up here.." you tried your hardest to speak clearly, but you couldn't help but hiccup every now and then.

"do you know where you are?"

"no..I don't even know... what in the world you are..!" your eyes welled up with tears as you finally grasped your reality. you were stranded, in a foreign land, with people who want to kill you.

"get up. if you won't tell me the truth, I'll force it out of you." the leader stood up, pulling your arm to force you onto your feet.

༻✧༺ ༻✧༻༻✧༺ ༻✧༻༻✧༻

awkwardly you sat on a lab table, surrounded by scientists that would not stop taking tests or examining you.

you sighed, "how many times do I have to tell you! my name is y/n l/n, I turn 15 this year and I have NO IDEA how I got here."

"I know this must be stressful, but if you're a human you shouldn't be able to breathe the air here," a female scientist, Florence, explained, rubbing her temples hoping to ease the stress.

you heard a knock at the door, immediately knowing who it was you slipped off the table and hid behind a wall, "DO. NOT. LET. HIM. IN!"

"y/n dear, you cannot keep avoiding Jake, you've been here for a good 3 days now!" Florence groaned, walking over to the door.

"you cannot tell me I'm on PANDORA, the planet that humankind tried to destroy, and expect me not to fear for my life!" you retorted. despite your fear, Florence still unlocked the door and let the visitors inside,

"y/n! come say hi, Jake and his sons have come to check on you!" Florence sweetly called, yet the only thing you heard from the message was that the two people who had previously threatened to kill you, were in the building. Florence chuckled as she heard your footsteps quickly scurry off into your bedroom followed by the loud slam and locking of the door.

"don't mind her, she is still a bit panicky due to the current circumstances." Florence sighed, moving out of the way to let Jake and Neteyam Sully (two familiar faces), followed by Jake's younger son; Lo'ak.

"I understand. have you learned anything about her?..why she's able to breathe without a mask?" Jake asked, putting on a recom breather as he walked further into the lab.

"we managed to get an x-ray of her lungs," Florence said, picking up a remote and turning on a projected image of your lungs. " it looks like a filter of some sort has been placed in the middle of her trachea. as of now we can only guess what it may do , as trying to look at it surgically would put her life in danger."

the room fell into an awkward silence, Florence rested her hand on her chin trying to think of a way to get you to socialise with the Na'vi. "ah!" she exclaimed, "Jake, I don't think we're gonna be getting y/n home any time soon, and your sons are around her age so why don't they teach her the language? it'll help her loosen up around you !"

Jake sighed, "I mean I don't see why not." he turned to his two sons, "I want the two of you here tomorrow 3 hours after dawn. remember to be patient, learning a new language isn't easy"

"yes sir." they both answered, now wishing they never came to the lab in the first place.

"right it's settled! I'll see you two tomorrow!"

* . • ☆ . ° .• °: . *₊ ° . ☆ .* . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆. * . • ₊ °

A/N: thank you so much for reading! please comment and lmk who you want to be the main love interest! (as the reader is a child, the love interest will not be any adults.) <333

#avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar x reader #neteyam #lo'ak #tuk #tsireya #avatar 2 #sully family #avatar x y/n #atwow #x reader #fanfic #lovinqmils #pandora #na'vi #omatikaya #metkayina #human reader

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gumballavocadoharry · 2 months

Text

Unjust Corporate; Jack Chambers:

*This is the 50s, so corporal punishment was around and that meant teachers were allowed to administer swats with paddles or canes then. It's unethical, but I have to be historically correct to set the scene. I do not agree with this, and it's a trigger containing: mentions of abuse, abusive childhood, student abuse, hitting, beating, some racisms, bad parenting and bad educational system. *

Mr. Driscoll. Hated by every student (and teacher) in the building. Possibly the district.

A very strict and callous type who would punish for even the simplest infringements. Assignment was a day late- an F. One word misspelled on a paper- F. Whispering in class- a hard paddle against your backside. None of the teachers in the school used the paddle or the cane. But Mr. Driscoll did. He expected perfection from every student, despite even if their best attempts couldn't come to par. A painly thin older man with white hair, a thin pasty mustache and liver spots all over his hands. A slight slouch in his posture, but still managed to stand a solid six foot in a half.

Then he met Roger Chambers. The boy swore he hated him from day one. His name was spoken stringent against his lips. Sharp and stern looks into Roger's mischievous but innocuous green eyes where filled with this utter disgust like the way you spot maggots in rotted fruit. "ROGER! STOP TALKING!" Roger wouldn't say a word.

"ROGER STOP DAYDREAMING AND PAY ATTENTION!" Roger would force himself out of his gaze through the classroom window and snap back to the teacher's lesson. It was during class that Roger realized he could use both hands when writing. Left and right.

Finishing the last piece of his Benjamin Franklin- using his left hand- a harsh burning sting was slapped to his wrist. "Ow!" grabbing his wrist and looking up to Mr. Driscoll. "Use your right hand, Mr. Chambers!" Tapping the ruler against his palm, Mr. Driscoll gave Roger a acrimonious glare. Tears brimming his eyes, Roger slowly picked up his pencil with his right hand; ignoring the mordant pain that was shooting through his wrist.

The walk home from school was quiet. "Hey Roger, what did you get on that Algebra test?" Roger shrugged. "Maybe, a 56- I don't know." Susan glanced to Roger with a slight furrow. "Did Matthew Malkin give you wedgie?"

"I don't know, probably." "Did Mom and Dad jump across the moon and into a pile of turnips that shoot out raisins?"

"Yeah, probably." A laugh escaped from Susan. "Did you even hear what I just said?" Roger turned sharply to Susan, almost ringing himself out of his world. "Uh... what?" Susan crooked her head to the side. "Roger, what's wrong?" Roger scratched the side of his head. "Oh, nothing. It's just.... I have a lot of homework." Susan bit the edge of her lip and kept quiet. Letting the sound of the swishing spring wind bellow her skirt, Susan would occasionally look to Roger and then back to the sidewalk. "Hi sweeties," Alice wiped the last path of suds off the tables from the cleaner. "I'll make you a snack in just a minute."

"Thanks." Susan said, taking a seat on the couch. Roger smiled before charging toward his bedroom. His wrist brushed against his slacks, twinging the boy with pain. Roger scanned his left wrist again. A thick red welt formed in the center of a purplish-pink bruise. Roger stared at the sore. Watching it ooze from his skin like an ugly patch. Changing into a droopy maroon sweater that hovered over his legs, making them look little under the cloak of garment. Roger trollied down the stairs, ignoring the stares from his sister and mother. "Roger, you changed your shirt." Roger smiled and took a seat at the bar, reaching for the fresh baked cookies on the platter in front of him. Alice let a slight furrow arch through her eyebrows. "I got cold, so I changed my shirt." As if Roger could sense Alice's buried question. Alice raised an eyebrow. "Okay...." Roger kept his gaze on the counter. A fear slithered through him- wafting in this musky glower of already having blown his cover.

Roger perked himself up with a smile. "Sorry, if I'm coming off mysterious.... it's been a long day." Alice gave Roger a small smile. She leaned in closer, pouting her lip a bit. "Are you alright honey? Feeling okay?" Alice put her hand on Roger's left wrist and rubbed- pressuring the fore of it against the brim of the counter. Roger bit the inside of his bottom lip. "I'm fine- it's just that- my new history teacher had us doing a lot of work in class today." Alice smiled wider. Rubbing her hand against Roger's cheek, she leaned back and went back to the stove. Roger kept his stare on her a bit longer- wondering if her mind was already made up. And.... it was.

Jack came home and hour later. Roger was already at his grainy oak desk, finishing the last of his assingment. Signing the last cursive word on the paper, Roger's heartbeat sped up. A warm patch heated against the nath of his neck. A burning heat flashed through his skin. Mr. Driscoll taught history. Mr. Driscoll would fail him for one mistake. Or maybe not one at all. He hated Roger after all. He would cane his wrist again. Or berate him in front of the entire class. Roger didn't tell anyone of how Mr. Driscoll seperated his desk to the outside of the classroom for laughing too much. The memory burned deep into his brain- sauntering the grimness of how he couldn't even cry because of the passing students and teachers. Embarrassed and angry, Roger was banished to the outskirts of the class until lunch, where his desk was brought back inside, but with his crayons sprawled out over the hallway. They were swept up and thrown into the garbage when asked about them.

Roger scratched the itch by his eye. His finger became wet, letting the realization of brimming tears that trickled down his face sink in. He swallowed hard- letting the hollow of his woe slide down into his gut to loll there.

A knock on the door sounded. "Rogie?" Jack's soft voice was both a reassurance, and a parcel. Roger couldn't afford to carry a burden. His mind was weighted with Mr. Driscoll's rasping jarring voice. Jack invited himself in. He always did that when he thought the problem was big. It annoyed the children, but it would disperse with realization of Jack's love and concern. He took a seat on the bed, letting his eyes- filled with worry- bore into Roger's. "Hey bud.... you've been quiet today... everything okay?"

"Yeah. Why, why wouldn't it be?" He frowned. "Because, you came home and didn't say anything-"

"I was tired. Mr. Driscoll piled on a lot of homework." Jack raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Driscoll?" Roger nodded. Jack rememberd Mr. Driscoll. He hated him too.

He never taught Jack's grade as a child, but when he moved to California as an adult, he found Mr. Driscoll to be the biggest prick of an educator he met. Uttering several words about him behind his back, the old man was embittered, in Jack's mind. He hated how he demanded unquestioned respect, despite never showing it back to anyone. Sometimes, even to his own superiors. Jack never forgot how in the line at a supermarket, Mr. Driscoll glared at the young ebony man, a bagger, who was extraordinarily polite and kind. His name tag read, Dan, and Jack didn't think twice about him. He just thought good business was good business.

"I bet he steals from the registers." Mr. Driscoll snarled. Jack puncated his frown to the elderly man, who was in his early sixties at the time. "He probably has kids all over with different woman." Mr. Driscoll didn't say this to anyone but himself. But Jack heard him. He heard everything the man said. "I think he's doing a good job." Jack wished he hadn't opened his mouth. But was still glad he did. Mr. Driscoll turned around, but Jack stared straight ahead. "Respect your elders." He said before turning back towards the line. Jack towered over the man slightly. He stared deep into the back of his head like he wanted to burn holes through it. He did want to.

Mr. Driscoll turned around with a scowl over his face. "Maybe you could learn something from us elders, hm?" Jack smirked. "I think society's already beat me to it, hm?"

"I can help the next customer!" A lady clerk yelled. Jack happily took his cart to the next line. Ringing up faster, Jack pulled an extra five from his wallet. Handing it to Dan, he smiled. "Thank you very much sir, have a nice day." Dan smiled. "You too!" Mr. Driscoll watched as Jack walked out of the store with the biggest smile across his face, before turning around to share one last smart alec smile toward the old man.

The name sent this ping of anger through Jack. "Mr. Driscoll." He repeated. "He's your new history teacher?" Roger's eyebrows furrowed as he gave another nod. "Racist bastard." Roger gasped. "Oh! I'm sorry Roger! Don't repeat that, okay?"

"Mr. Driscoll's racist?" Jack nodded. "I know him. Don't worry it'll be okay." Roger felt reassured. A warm glow had illumentated through him like a candle in the dark night. Jack's face was set serious. Serious into this deep rigid frown. Jack turned back to Roger after staring at the specks of carpet for too long. "What did he do in class?" A cool fanned through Roger's chest. He didn't want to tell him what happened today. But he knew Jack would find out. He would come to the classroom and surveillance Mr. Driscoll like a prison guard. And he would deserve it. But it wouldn't help Roger forever. It wouldn't etch the pain from his mind, or the fear in his gut... or the twinge of heat from his bruised wrist.

"Roger?" Jack's voice softened and warm. "He.... was strict. Very strict- he always is with everyone. Even some of the teachers." Jack narrowed his eyes. "But what did he do to you?" Roger swallowed.

"I was talking too much in class. So....." Roger looked down. Jack wanted Roger to come closer to him, but couldn't choke out the words to say so. "What did he do Roger?" His voice laced more thickly in concern.

"He yelled at me." Roger held in his tears. But Jack could sense them. He could sense the pain snaking through Roger, while his head was held down and his voice as frail as parchment paper. "What else?" Jack knew. Roger didn't know how, but he did.

"He put my desk....." Roger choked. Tears- not even having time to brim- begin dripping onto the carpet. He looked back up with tears and a wobbly mouth. "He made me sit out in the hall because I was laughing too much!" He brokedown. "Today in class, I decided I could use my left hand to write. And I did pretty good. Mr. Driscoll- ow!" Jack perked up. Roger had brushed a particular sensitive part of his wrist against his pants. "Ow.. ow...ow." He cried. Jack hurled himself up from the bed and grabbed Roger's wrist without question.

A big welt on his wrist. Bruising and burning with pain. The sight shattered Jack's heart to a million pieces. David would whip Jack's legs with a thick belt, till welts would sprout over his little calves. Sometimes, he whip his bare back or strike a paddle against his bare bottom. Coupled with slaps across the face and a throng of curses thrown at him, the sight of Roger's wrist nearly made Jack sick. He never bragged about his disciplines- there was nothing to brag about. Who could take pleasure in being beaten senseless for pratically nothing? Some boys at his school would laugh or brag about how many beatings they took from their fathers. Jack never joined in and in fact, would judge the boys.

"What's so great about that?" he said once. Steward Hollister looked around before piping up. "Well, hasn't your dad ever beat ya?"

"Yeah. I just don't laugh about it. It's ridiculous and abusive..... I'd much rather take pleasure in striking him back." He said, before walking back to his locker. "Sensitive little pussy." Steward laughed along with his friends. Jack slammed the books into locker and continued to the bleachers for the rally.

Looking at Roger's little wrist- his soft little wrist that was hurting, causing his little boy to welp in pain- sent an angry shiver through his spine. A muderous desire to wrap his bulky hands around Driscoll's neck and choke the life out of him until his face was as blue and purple as the bruise forming around the welt.

"He... caned me." Roger's voice was so little. So innocent and fragile. Jack looked into Roger's eyes before cuffing his little lanky body into a bear hug. "Oh my little baby.... it'll be okay. Daddy's here. I'm so sorry.... I'm so sorry." Jack sounded regretful, despite not doing anything. "We'll take care of the boo boo." Roger didn't mind Jack's baby puns. In fact, he wanted it. He needed it. Clinging to Jack as he took him into the bathroom, Jack smoothed an ointment onto the welt before applying some kitchen ice. Placing a gentle hand on Roger's cheek, Jack looked into Roger's eyes with unfathomable sympathy and blazing fury. "Just hold it onto the welt and the bruising will go down in no time." Roger nodded, still sniffling. Jack placed a long big whistling smooch to Roger's cheek. Then another one, then another one. He didn't want to leave Roger's side for a second and would rather hold him in the hollow of his chest, placing candy kisses onto the ridge of his forehead.

Caned. It stuck out in Jack's brain all night. He would cane Mr. Driscoll. What he did to Roger, Jack would do to him thrice as hard. Jack kept his fists balled up all night, making the knuckles stiff in the morning. Jack finally hit it.

He would surprise Driscoll. He had no idea Roger was his son... but he would soon find out. Today... in the middle of history class.

Roger was sitting quietly at his desk. Mr. Driscoll spiting out nonsense facts about the british war of whatever. "ROGER! SIT UP STRAIGHT!"

Jack could hear the harsh address from down the hall. Storming harder up to the classroom door- Jack dressed in his navy blue office suit, neat matching black dress shoes with a very stern look- peeked through the window of the classroom.

"Roger come up here now!" Roger gulped, taking little steps up towards Mr. Driscoll. "It's funny. It's really funny how you think class is a joke? That all these students don't deserve to learn in peace!"

"But-"

"Hush up!" Grabbing a thick wooden paddle, Roger's eyes widened. "Turn around." Mr. Driscoll's voice venomed with hatered. Grabbing Roger's arm and snatching him around, Jack barged through the door- without thinking and yanked up Mr. Driscoll's arm- dragging him out of the classroom.

He practically slammed the old man against the walls of the corridor. "How dare you!" Jack hissed. "How dare you even lay a fingernail on my son like that!"

Mr. Driscoll straightend his suitjacket. "I didn't paddle him for your information- I was about to and he deserved it!" Jack came closer to the teacher's face. "I don't care what he did or didn't do. I saw you. I'll be the one to decide how and whether my child gets punished or not!"

"I am fully qualified to do my job, sir!" "To hell with your job- you ever touch my son again, it'll be the last time, you ever touch him... is that clear?"

Mr. Driscoll squinted his eyes. "Do I know you?" Jack didn't respond. His gruff breaths puffed out like steam out of the nostrils of a dragon. "That man.... you were in the supermarket- defending that colored boy-"

"He was a man. A grown man." Jack hissed. "How dare you." His voice trailed a little. "And yes! It's me! And that's my son."

Mr. Driscoll scoffed. "No wonder. The boy never knws when to keep his mouth shut- I'd pop him if I could." Even the burning glare from Mr. Driscoll, didn't save him from being lifted by the fringed of his collar.

"You're lucky I don't break your jaw into a million pieces! If you ever take that paddle out again- then you can shove it up your ass, because that's the first place I'm gonna come looking for it!" Dropping Mr. Driscoll back to earth, feet pinging so hard against the ground, that an ache begin to radiate. Jack's deadly glare riveted the man, before he whizzed past and into the classroom.

"Roger," Jack took Roger's hand and led him back outside. "How about you and me take the day off? Just the two of us?" A bright smile fell over Roger. "Oh boy! You mean it?!" Jack bent down and hugged Roger tightly. "Of course! I thought you could use some fun after that awful day you had." Jack cooed. Kissing the side of his temple, Jack took Roger's hand- both skipping down the hall with peps in their step.

For Mr. Driscoll, this would surely be a day that would go down in history for him. He counted that as walked back into the classroom, wobbly and red faced.

The same way he left Roger yesterday, but with more vigour. Not able to look the class in the eye. He picked the paddle from the ground and set it on his desk.

"Class dismissed." He said shakily. As the classroom emptied out, Mr. Driscoll sat his desk and started his resignation letter. Somehow, he believed Jack. And he didn't want to take that risk.

#jack chambers imagines #jack chambers son #jack chambers imagine #jack and roger #jack chambers #susan chambers #alice chambers #roger chambers #dont worry darling #harry styles dwd #dwd blurbs #harry styles #harry styles imagine #dadrry #dad!harry

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valhethella · 1 year

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I got quite a few DMs over the weekend on twitter asking about my brushes, and as with anything, your mileage may vary, and digital art isn’t made or broken by brushes, but having them never hurt! Talking about how you use your tools is just as important as talking about what tools you use, so consider this a small breakdown of my process for digital sketching.

First thing’s first, I avoid sketching on an untextured canvas. If you like to have a flat, solid canvas, I recommend working at 50% grey, or adjusting your canvas to be slightly off-white. The harshness of black on pure-white can be a hang-up for many people, including myself.

I sketch on paper textures sourced from my own old sketchbooks and papers. The one I use most frequently is available in my Sketchbook Paper Pack, and named Off White.

While a true-to-life pencil look is not what I’m actively going for with my sketches, these papers certainly help achieve it.

I do almost all of my work in Procreate, but learned digital art first in Photoshop. Anything I share here in regards to how I use brushes can be applied to any brush, I’m certain!

For my sketches, you’re seeing the work of one brush and one eraser.

For my brush, I use an altered version of Procreate’s native HB Pencil brush that I’ve named HB Pencil Beefy. It’s available in my 2021 Brush Pack.

For my eraser, I use Alexa Sharpe’s Soft Eraser. It’s available in their Eraser Brush Pack.

I use my brush at pretty consistently set sizes that are based on my standard canvas size, which is 6″ x 9″ 400 dpi or I use a double spread of 12″ x 9″ 400 dpi.

(If you work in pixels that’s 2400x3600 at 400 dpi and 4800x3600 at 400 dpi)

HB Pencil Beefy I use at 4%, 15%, and 50% size, with the brush’s opacity set to either 60% or 15%.

I set the brush to 15% opacity when I want to go in very softly with lots of that pencil texture. I use this when I need to scale back and really rough something out, or if I’m trying to get a sense of volume with some shadows or contours.

With Alexa Sharpe’s Soft Eraser, I use the eraser set at 2%, 10%, and 25% size. I only scale back the opacity on the eraser if I want to take something back to nearly gone, but still want those lines, faint, there as a guideline.

Jumping back to my file setup really quick, I like to work in a digital sketchbook! It’s just a procreate canvas with a paper texture that’s creased down its center, and all the added layers are my pages. This helps me feel less pressured to create something perfect or finished; It gives me the illusion of just noodling in any old sketchbook.

Okay. Back to the pencil. Below, I have a small idea of my process in sketching and drawing. This is not a how-to-draw demo, and it’s definitely not an anatomy demo – it’s just how I approach drawing using this brush. The page below, and the one above, were both done on a 9″x 6″ canvas at 400 dpi.

01.

Loose and light

using brush at 50% size

this brush does have a tilt dynamic, but I’ve never used it

02.

Nastiest phase

building up a little opacity

still only using brush at 50% size

use eraser at 25% size, if at all

03.

start refining

come in with 15% sized brush

at no point do I abandon larger brushwork, it just becomes about more careful and purposeful use

use eraser to hatch and cut back roughs

04.

hello 4% brush my beautiful little boy ♡

hatching in detail

build up opacity, using eraser to bring it back and to carve volume

jump back to larger sizes for larger forms and volumes

fiddle until “finished”

P.S. the liquify tool is my best friend

#blog #Brushes #procreate brushes #Procreate #Digital #old art reposting saga

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d1xonss · 10 months

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Desert Rose

Chapter 3 ~ Opening up

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 1

✧ Word Count : 3.6k

In this chapter ~ When spending some much needed time alone after the fight she was just involved in, Rose sets off toward the woods for the peace and quiet. Though she was unaware of the person that seemed to follow her, only innocently wanting to know more about her as he only seemed to want a friend. Meanwhile, the planned search for Merle was now set in stone.

I was completely unaware of the amount of time I had spent in the forest drawing, but I really didn't mind how long it had been, enjoying the cool breeze passing by me every now and then. I found myself constantly losing track of time when I sketched, even before the dead started walking around. Just living in the moment as for once my mind wasn't constantly running. My pencil moved quickly whilst I drew out the trees and flowers that surrounded me, the sunlight brushing upon them from my left as mother nature seemed to glow.

Creating things was what always kept me grounded in this life that only seemed to grow more intense every second we were alive. It was corny, sure, but it couldn't be truer. In a way it was somewhat of a distraction whenever I felt down about myself or stressed about things that I couldn't control. It brought me a form of comfort that other people's words could never quite do. And that's why I loved it. So, it made sense why I yearned to come out here to decompress, the intense argument still replaying a few times in my mind.

In all honesty, I didn't know for sure what was going to happen next. Not only with Rick's big plan to head back into Atlanta despite everyone's strong opinions, but more of the bigger picture. It had been a couple months since this whole apocalypse happened, and I still found I couldn't seem to get over how insane it's all been. A part of me thought I would never get used to it, the dead slowly picking off the remainder of the population. But another part of me knew that I could, adjusting to what the world has come to now was something I would have to get over. Though I didn't know if I wished to, not wanting to let go of just everything I once knew. But sometimes that's just how life worked, and you had to swallow it down and move on.

A sudden snap of a branch coming from right behind me is what made me stop my movements completely, slowly putting my pencil down as I listened. Now that walkers have started to make their way through the peaks, I found myself a little more on edge as they could truly come out of nowhere, seemingly migrating out of the city. When I didn't hear another sound, I slowly lowered my hand and pulled out a knife from where it was attached on my hip, before turning around swiftly, ready to throw at the threat. But my movements halted once I saw it was just that kid Glenn, looking completely taken aback that I almost threw the blade in between his eyes.

"Woah, woah, not dead." he said with raised arms, eyeing the sharp weapon in my hands.

I huffed with a roll of my eyes, putting my knife back in place before turning my attention back to my notebook, picking up the pencil I had once discarded to the ground. My eyes stayed down on the page as I tried to ignore his sudden presence, even though he seemed to only be inching himself closer to me at the speed of a sloth. I silently prayed that he would just take the hint and leave me alone, but I knew it was a long shot. Everyone in this damn camp seemed to be infatuated at the idea of a new person joining their little clan, considering I had hardly had a moment of peace since arriving.

My annoyance brewed as I felt him shuffle closer, practically breathing down my neck as to try and catch a glimpse at what I was doing in curiosity. All while clearly not knowing or understanding the definition of personal space. Growing annoyed, I stopped what I was doing and slowly looked over at the man, a pointed glare on my face to get him off my back. But I guess I underestimated how close he really was, our faces being a mere inch apart as I watched him immediately get flustered, turning his head away from me in an instant.

Now as much as I didn't want to, I couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh upon noticing how red his cheeks had gotten from the smallest amount of contact. It was amusing, my reaction completely genuine as I watched his embarrassment grow. Though he quickly heard my silent giggles, a small smile making its way onto his face as he saw my initial response to the awkward exchange. He then moved to sit himself down next to me, letting out a breath of air now that some of the tension was gone.

"I just wanted to say, what you did back there was...pretty badass." he stated out of the blue.

I scoffed quietly to myself, "Well, I had to step in...I knew Shane couldn't handle it."

My comment caused him to laugh a little and nod his head as if I had a point, "Y'know you're right, I think Dixon would've knocked him clean on his ass."

My lips twitch up slightly in amusement, before turning my attention back to the lined paper on my lap. We sat like that in the comfortable silence that followed as I stayed focused, glancing up at the different colorful petals every once and a while to make sure I knew what I was doing. But silently, I knew the quiet wouldn't last very long as he seemed to talk more than the rest of them combined, his mouth clearly having a mind of its own.

"So, I was thinking, and uh...I realized I didn't really get the chance to get to know you. You know, with all the chaos happening and stuff." he pointed out.

I let out a hum, "You're right." I muttered as I didn't take my eyes off the page.

I could practically feel his smile drop after I said that, the thought alone almost causing me to laugh again at how I practically shut him down. But I never claimed I was the easiest person to get along with.

He sighed quietly, "Well, can I get to know you? It would be nice to befriend the cool girl of the group so someone has my back." he said with a sweet smile.

Looking at this kid, I could tell that he was very nice and just simply wanted a friend. In the back of my mind, it would be nice to have one too, but I couldn't help but grow a bit uneasy at the thought. Mostly because I didn't want anyone to get too close. Allegedly I didn't have a very clean track record when it came to being a good friend, at least that's what I'd been told in the past. I didn't want him to get hurt because of me, especially since I was continuously balancing on the fence about whether or not to stay.

But regardless of all of that, I somehow convinced myself to agree. "Okay..."

His excitement was almost too much to handle as he began asking me question after question about myself, but I quickly slowed his role. Instead I offered questions of my own, getting to know him a bit better so he had the chance to talk about himself. I was always a better listener than a talker. The two of us began to reminisce as we swapped stories from the past, talking quietly amongst ourselves in the grass. I learned that he delivered pizzas as an occupation, hearing it out loud actually made a lot of sense. His favorite color is green, he loves to fish; especially with some friends, and he really likes baseball.

Now with me, I didn't really feel totally comfortable telling him my whole life story like he did moments ago, finding it hard to really open up to people. It was rare for someone to ask me something and actually care to know the answer. But regardless, I told him that I worked as an undercover cop previously, which in return really intrigued him and led me to tell some of my most interesting stories. Then I listed a few of my favorite hobbies, painting and pottery, and some of my favorite bands who all remained in the same category; rock.

It felt weird being so open and honest with someone, a strange feeling I hadn't allowed myself to experience in quite some time. But somehow, I knew I could trust him. He was showing me a kindness that I didn't even know existed before now, and I would be lying to myself if I said I didn't enjoy it. And although I wouldn't admit it out loud, a part of me was actually glad he tracked me down.

Towards the end of our conversation, I turned my notebook over so he could see the finished product, "Well, what do you think?"

He eyes about popped out of his head, his mouth falling open a little as he took the picture in, "Wow, this is really good! Rose, you're super talented."

My heart warmed at how genuine he was, almost not wanting to bring myself to believe it. I couldn't help but grow a bit flustered at the compliment, shrugging it off, "Thanks..."

After that we collectively managed to head back in the direction of the campsite, realizing just how much time we had spent chatting on and on. Though the closer we got, the more I could clearly hear the disagreement that was going down just past the line of trees ahead. The noise alone was enough to make me want to turn right back around and stall in the forest for a little longer. Rick and Shane were at each other's throats for whatever reason that was unknown to me, yet I knew it was probably something stupid.

I quickly glanced around to everyone before attempting to turn back but Glenn, as if reading my mind, grabbed onto my shirt sleeve to keep me from parting from him. I sent him a pointed look, but he just merely smiled at me, not letting go so I didn't even have a chance at getting away. Bastard.

Rick continued to go back and forth with Shane and Lori, practically fighting for his life as he kept trying to prove his point that humanity was not lost. That a human being needed help, and he wanted to be the one to deliver. I almost wanted to roll my eyes at the whole hero facade. Though after Lori said something about not being comfortable with him doing this all by himself, the man suddenly had a lightbulb appear atop his head, instantly looking toward Glenn and I.

"Oh, come on." Glenn groaned.

I took this as my opportunity and ripped my sleeve out of his hold, "Good luck with that." I muttered just loud enough for him to hear before slipping away from the next argument.

I placed my notebook back safely in my bag as I lingered by the RV, my back facing the rest as I cringed slightly when I heard how bad the conversation was going from a distance. But I faltered for a moment when I felt someone's eyes on me as I moved, turning back around subtly to see it was Daryl who stood tall by what I could only assume to be his tent. Out of the corner of my eye I just watched him, sensing that he was trying to figure me out even though what happened earlier between the two of us was far from a proper conversation.

But I didn't give in and look back, my focus staying on Rick as he continued to stress about his big plan that he had all planned out in his mind, while Daryl's eyes never strayed away from my frame. I nearly squirmed as the feeling lingered for much longer than what I was comfortable with, still managing to ignore it. If he had a problem with me, he could confront me himself.

But the thought didn't fail to cross my mind at how hard he was to figure out. Most of the time I was pretty good at reading people, but for some reason that wasn't the case with him. It was like he put up a protective wall to hide behind, to keep people away, which was something that I surprisingly understood as I tried to do the same. Maybe I understood him better than I originally thought.

"We could take Rose too." Glenn's voice suddenly suggested, causing me to quickly tune back into the conversation as my mouth nearly fell on the floor at his casual comment.

I could've strangled him right then and there for bringing me back into this when I didn't need to be, knowing he somehow caught that vibe when I watched him visibly recoil at the glare I sent him. I absolutely did not feel like risking my life for anyone around here let alone that asshole, and yet, this man was throwing me up for grabs.

"No, no," I said with a wave of my hand as I trucked back over to join the exchange, "Don't you dare speak for me." I snapped, "I barely made it out of that shit hole with you people last time, and you want me to go back?" I asked.

"I actually don't think you should go either, in fact I don't think anyone should go!" Shane shouted, "Why risk your life for a douchebag like Merle Dixon?"

Daryl's ears seemed to perk up at that comment, trailing over as he lingered near the small circle we created, "You better choose your words more carefully." he warned lowly.

"No douchebag is what I meant." Shane clapped back, "You're really going to risk three men?" he asked Rick in disbelief.

"Four." T-Dog stepped in.

"My day just keeps gettin better don't it." Daryl muttered with a roll of his eyes.

Glenn huffed, "Five." he tried again as he gestured to me, "We need as many people as we can get, and if you ask me, she knows how to handle herself."

My mouth parted as I was prepared to rip him a new one in order to make myself clear, but Rick beat me to the punch, "No, she's staying here, can't have too many people out there at once."

At that moment I felt like I could kiss him...no not really, but I was definitely thanking my lucky stars that I had someone else on my side. For some reason I had a bad feeling about this whole thing in fear that something would go terribly wrong, and I just couldn't push myself to jump back into the walker infested streets. Although I think Rick easily saw the relief in my face because he dipped his head in a nod with a small smile. "You're welcome. "

I slightly nodded in return to express my thanks before glancing back towards Glenn, hesitating for a moment, before placing my hand on his shoulder to get his attention. Managing a small and apologetic smile, he nodded in return to my gesture, clearly understanding my stance on the matter. And just like that, I was off the hook. Though the quarrel was far from over.

Trying to get as far away from the booming voices as possible, I headed inside the RV, not wanting to listen to the no doubt merry-go-round of emotions Lori continued to express. To my surprise the vehicle was completely empty, actually having some peace and quiet for a little bit longer like I wanted. I appreciated Glenn's kindness and undoubtably good conversation, but I still felt a bit unfulfilled for the silence I craved. I sat myself down at the table as I faced away from the entrance, placing my forehead on the coolness of the table.

My eyes fluttered closed for a moment, feeling them burn slightly with how tired I seemed to be from the restless night. I couldn't even remember the last time I had actually gotten a decent amount of sleep. Whether it was waking up every hour to check my surroundings, or not being able to fall asleep at all, something would always keep me from my dreams. It was frustrating and a little unnerving, making me rethink the offer Dale made to me about crashing out in here. Though I knew I would never accept to begin with, not wanting to impose as this space was clearly crammed enough as it was.

I eventually lifted my head again to take a look outside the window, seeing the four men beginning to pack up their things to head out, seemingly coming to a final decision. Though a part of me started to feel a hint of guilt. Especially when my eyes lingered on Daryl for a moment longer than the rest. I felt as though I should say something, something reassuring and maybe comforting, seeing as he wouldn't receive that from anyone else around here. This was his brother, and half of the group was treating it like it was a joke of some kind. It was probably a dumb idea, but I had to say...something.

Sighing to myself, I reluctantly got up to get out of the RV, looking around to where he had gone. Shane and Lori were still irate, the few kids were sitting along with Carol working on schoolwork of some kind, whilst Glenn and T-Dog packed up the truck. My eyes then finally landed on who I was silently searching for, seeing him linger near his tent as he gathered up his weapons. I was starting to have second thoughts the more I let myself think about it, but my legs were suddenly moving towards him before my mind could even process it.

Once I was finally close enough, I cleared my throat awkwardly to get his attention. His head snapped towards me, looking a little surprised at my unexpected presence, before he quickly fixed me with a glare.

"What?" he asked sharply.

In a split second he managed to make me regret coming over here in the first place, taking all the willpower I had not to roll my eyes. So, I didn't. "I just wanted to...apologize, I guess."

He stared at me in what looked to be disbelief mixed with annoyance, "For what? Leavin my brother behind with the rest of them assholes? Or puttin me in a chokehold?"

"About your brother." I said with no hesitation, "You deserved the chokehold."

He took a step closer to me, "Is that right?" he asked, clearly trying to intimidate me, but I still stood my ground.

"Yeah, that's right. You pulled out a knife, don't try and convince me that I'm the bad guy here." I said, my tone coming out harsher than I intended as he began to frustrate me.

His face reddened as he clearly grew angrier at my attitude, quickly forcing the words out of my mouth before he had the chance to snap. "Look, I'm not going to stand here and defend your brother because let's face it, you and I both know he's an asshole. But I wanted to apologize for just...leaving him. He's still a human being, and I don't think anyone should have to go through that fear. So, I'm sorry, and I... I hope you find him."

Without another word, or even giving him a chance to respond, I turned on my heel to head in the opposite direction. Partially because I feared his response. But there was another part of me that was embarrassed for expressing my regret and sympathy, not even knowing if that's what he needed to hear at a time like this. Though I could've sworn the minute my back was facing him, I heard him mutter a small "Thanks." as I continued to walk away. But then again, that could've been my mind playing tricks on me.

I moved quickly back into the RV and sat down in the same spot I once occupied, looking out the window to the people just on the other side of the glass. The ones cooking something over the small fire, the kid's infectious laughter, and the ones putting everything on the line to save a man that seemingly didn't deserve it.

I hated to even think about it, let alone say it out loud, but I couldn't help but wonder that maybe I could use an accepting group like this one. My trust issues have gotten worse over the years, but there was something about this place that somehow made me feel just a little bit safer. At first, I thought it was because it was so far away from the city, the hot spot of where the dead roamed. But I slowly came to the realization that it was actually because of the people. There was something about them that pulled me in, perhaps the same strong ass magnet that drew me back here in the first place. Maybe this so-called clan wouldn't be so bad after all.

~ Thanks for reading!

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