#in the morning and once im done arting

[brainworms-all-night-long]

I think. I think I relapsed into an old brainrot of mine for real. I'm never escaping that stupid skeleton am I

[cinna-bunnie]

me during my 4 days off: ha ha! weeee! laying in bed is so much fun!

me on the first workday 30 minutes before my shift: i want to draw. i want to do art that would take me at least 5 hours to complete. i want to be so immersed in it that nothing else is able to hold my attention until it is done. i want to submit to the creative forces within me that compel me to express myself. i want

[pocket-void]

Gooooood mornin!!! :D

You ever finish an art piece and think to yourself how insane you just might be.

That's me rn. ^///^)b

[b4kuch1n]

Hii i had a question. If we already got an ink commission would it be rude to try and get anither one?

mmm I'll say if you've gotten an ink comm in previous bouts then give it uhhhh 45min? before coming in. I don't know the specific numbers when it comes to demand here so my take is just to! use ur judgement! and please don't rush! thank u very much :]

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[oflgtfol]

heyyy look what i made at work

[be-good-to-bugs]

blehg

[pascals-doll]

candy

ellie williams x reader

🫧 happy valentines day to all my beautiful followers | enjoy this vday special 🩷 am i uploading this ar midnight because a bitch had classes and work yes but its valentines (was technically) IM GGONNA WRITE AN ELLIE FIC 🧘‍♀️

🫧 inspired by the song candy by doja cat | bed of roses PT2

🫧 description: fluffy, cute surprises, reader knows how to know paint a bit, just fluff, cute fluff,ellie sings to you (i took the scene from the game because i cherish it sm) smut, SLUT SMUT💋, power dynamic, dom!ellie, sub!reader, you and ellie live together, reader is PUSSYHUNGRY (mmm im so- i would do anything for that tsunami), reader eats out ellie on stairs (you’re welcome), fingering, praises, no use of y/n, use of petnames like doll, mama, and good girl, very little degradation, hair pulling, clit sucking, face grinding, cum eating, just ellie getting eaten so good! enjoy

She's just like candy, she's so sweet

but you know that it ain't real cherry

know that it ain't real cherry

🫧

it was valetines day today which meant ellie got to spoil you rotten; it is very well- deserved.

you would always be very thoughtful with your gifts.

this valentines day, you sneakily woke up around 1 AM and worked until dawn on customizing a wooden workstation that you got her for her artwork.

you knew you had work in the morning but you would do anything for the woman who’s protected you, provided for you, and pleased you.

you painted the workstation very carefully a dark earth-green. you let each coat of paint dry before beginning to carefully paint details on it.

you were going to paint symbols for each of her favorite memories onto it. you took references from her own beautiful drawings.

one of the details you painted were the beginning of Joel’s; now her guitar, painting even the moth.

one of the guitar strings then ran around the whole work-station, dragging the brush till the end.

you began to draw small moths and different flowers with herbs carefully placing them along the string line.

lastly, finishing it up by drawing a silhouette of the both of your bodies intertwined, then painting an outline of ellie’s knife and joel’s gun side by side on the side of her workbench.

once you were done, you carved both of your initials into the side of the workbench.

you transfered all of her essentials from the small broken down drawers; that could barely hold up to her made with so much love customized workstation.

you made your way back into your shared warm bed, careful not to wake up ellie.

sunrise made its way into the sky, ellie waking up now as you now slept.

ellie noticed you got up in the middle of the night, searching for your warmth but she shrugged it off before knocking into slumber again.

ellie got up very quietly, planting a kiss on your head before heading into her work room to get her guitar.

she walked into her art room, stepping as she scans the room. she immediately stopped in her steps, her eyes falling onto your beautiful workstation.

ellie’s heart pounds outside of her chest, tears wanting to form in her hazel eyes as a rush of emotions take over her.

she walks around the small wooden dark-green station, her handing brushing it softly as she takes in your designs.

she couldnt help but think about although you had work sadly on valetines day, you still did this for her.

this was bigger than the world to ellie.

you were the most perfect girl and if one thing was for certain, ellie would be spending an eternity of valetine’s day with you.

🫧

I can be your sugar when you're fiendin' for that sweet spot

Put me in your mouth, baby, and eat it 'til your teeth rot

I can be your cherry, apple, pecan,

or your key lime

Baby, I got everything and so much more than she's got

you were now currently at work, you hated how you got called in today.

you asked ellie if she was going to be good with you going to work today, in which she responded by pulling down your panties.

lets just say, you had a very pleasant morning before going into work.

while you were away at work, ellie got to work on her surprise because eating your cum for breakfast wasn’t enough.

she went to almost all the floral shops she could, selling them out of their pink and red roses.

ellie covered the entryway with petals, even the staircase that leads upstairs, and leading all the way up into your room.

the living room, she had a fairy lights hung along with pink lit candles on the ground.

ellie had a huge case of flowers waiting for you, wrapped in the arrangement of your inital.

that was only the downstairs, your room was filled with more surprises.

your shared bed was covered in rose petals, a couple small gifts waiting for you while your surprise gift was tucked away by ellie.

ellie finished up any last miniute preparations before you came home from work.

she changed from her pj shirt and boyshorts from this morning to a flannel with a black-tee and some baggy shorts that exposed her Calvin Klein lining.

She's just like candy, she's so sweet

But you know that it ain't real cherry, know that it ain't real cherry

She's just like candy, she's so sweet (She's so sweet)

But you know that it ain't real, know that it ain't real

🫧

you came home a bit exhausted but excited because you picked up a teddy bear that held a heart with the writing “i love u” on it from a street vendor, leaving your job.

once you made it home, beginning to turn the keys to step through your front door.

you open the door to see your beautiful auburn-hair girlfriend.

she was sitting there on your shared loveseat, her beautiful fingers strumming her guitar.

the melodious tone from the strums of her guitar strumming the song your love for each other shares.

she began to sing softly “talking away” your hand cant help but go ovee your mouth as you felt tears begin to form.

the sound of her silky voice singing through your ears, making your heart pound and face hot.

“today’s another day to find you”

you could listen to ellie sing for the rest of your life, tears were already streaming down your face. ellie couldn’t look you in the eyes while she sang because if she did, she wouldn’t be able to finish.

you made her heart go a million miles per minute like a schoolgirl crush.

you made her stomach flutter like she was born with a butterfly nest inside her.

you made her soul shine like the sun after never-ending rain.

ellie finished serenating you, putting her guitar down

she finally looked up at you, clutching a teddy bear with tears streaming down your face.

before ellie could say anything, you ran into her arms; immediately taking you in to her embrace.

this was a feeling words couldn’t express, but only actions.

your heart felt like it was going to pop out of your chest with the clash of ellie’s lips onto yours.

you weren’t alone with ellie barely being able to catch her breath but so desperate for you.

the way your lips moved with such hasty movement but yet still passionately and amorously.

you began to walk towards the staircase, lips not leaving a moment. your eyes slightly opening time to time to make sure you were guiding you and ellie correctly.

“all i wanted-“ you began but were interrupted by her lips again.

“all day was to” ellie pulled away momentarily to let you continue.

“come home to this” you whined out against her lips, your tongue slightly licking over them.

🫧

Sugar coated, lies unfolded, you still lick the wrapper

It's addictive, you know this, but you still lick the wrapper

Sugar coated, lies unfolded, you still lick the wrapper

It's addictive, you know this, but you still lick the wrapper

you were fillied with arousal and need to please as you dropped to your knees…on the staircase. you could careless at this given moment.

your hands ran through her back, feeling each crevess of each toned muscle, then coming back around to her arms.

you gave her strong-toned arms a soft squeeze before having them go up to her chest. you needed to have her.

“doll i got a surprise in the room, lets-” ellie begins but you didn’t care.

“no” you said, looking her in the eyes as you unzip and unbutton her shorts “right here, right now” you whine out, pulling down ellie shorts completely.

ellie would be lying if she said you dying to eat her out on each other’s staircase wasn’t the hottest thing, especially on fucking valentine’s day.

it was you, how could she deny you.

“that desperate, mama?” she teases you as you peck her toned abdomen. you gave her a slight whimper as you nod.

she brings herself down to sit on the stairs, grabbing you by your jaw to pull you in for a kiss.

your lips meet again, your hand traveling down into her boxers immediately feeling seeping slick cunt “you drive me insane” you moan out, your mind was so drunk by her.

she had you high on her scent, taste, look, and touch. anything ellie did could have you on your knees, just like this.

your fingers begin to rub her clit in circular motion causing her breathing to hitch and soft moans of content escape her mouth as your lips travel down to her neck.

you begin to suck on the skin as your fingers massaged her clit, slightly putting pressure here and there causing ellie to let out gentle-yet-loud groan.

ellie’s hips began to rise to meet your hand “my beautiful doll-s’good f’me” she mumbled under her breathy moans.

you were sure you left her a purpletrail from her neck leading into her shoulder before going down a couple more steps.

you waste no time in pulling off her boxers, meeting with her wet pussy “s’pretty els, i love you.” you were just completely dazed by ellie at this point, wanting to please her and have her taste on you for days.

“you gonna drool or eat up, doll?” ellie smirks, she knew the effect she had on you and it made you fiend to please her even more.

your hands go to spread her thighs open a bit more before diving your head in between her legs. you met face to face with her juiced pussy, her slick coating your tongue as you lick a stripe.

“ah fuck, doll!” ellie moans out, her hips slightly bucking against your face as her hand had a grip on your hair.

the way you were on your knees on these steps buried into ellie’s pussy, your tongue collects her juices as you begin to swirl your tongue around her clit sucking softly.

she tasted just like candy, you grab her one of her thighs, hooking it up to balance on your shoulder.

the wider angle made her throw her head back “s’fuck doll! just like that. eat it just like that.” her vile voice praising the way you took the way she slopped her pussy against your tongue.

ellie began to work herself towards her orgasm on your tongue, her hand following the movement of your head.

you ate her out like this was your last meal, not wanting to let a single drop “god fuck-y-you’re insane!” she whined out as you worked you fucked her with yout tongue.

ellies stomach stomach flexes, her toned abdomen becoming more prominent as her breathy moans turn into pants and loud gutteral moans as you took your free hand; licking her asshole all the way up to her clit.

“fuck fuck fuck, doll! s’such a good girl” ellie’s hand swore she could’ve pulled your hair our by now but you could careless, the only thing on your mind was making this woman cum.

she deserved the way you ate her with delight, completely letting her use your face for her orgasm.

your nails dig into her thigh as you feel yourself slowly loosing your breath; but you were not leaving till she had came all over your face.

“s’close god! youre such a fuckin’ slut f’me.” her orgasm finally riding out.

“atta girl, lick it all up again.” she praises, pulling you back up from her pussy to her lips, tasting herself momentarily before her hand finds the back of your head guiding you to the white cum-beed that seaped out of her now fucked-out hole.

you licked her from asshole up, completely picking up her cum onto the tip on tongue causing you moan out as your lips were wrapped around her.

once you pulled away meeting her eyes, her cum covering your lips causing your face to glisten lightly.

“you’re a demon” ellie brings you into her embrace on the stairs.

“its not my fault you’re my favorite candy”

🫧

She's just like candy, she's so sweet

But you know that it ain't real cherry, know that it ain't real cherry

She's just like candy, she's so sweet

a/n > part 2 ??? 😇

[mysumeow]

──Trouble sleeping

WARNINGS ❪ Afab body, reader is referred to with you/your. YANDERE Lyney. Very mild angst. Unrealistic hypnosis, dub-con, piv unprotected sex. Not proofread. SUMMARY ❪ You have trouble sleeping, and Lyney suggests hypnosis therapy to solve it. Lyney is, however, dishonest with how he applies said hypnosis. WORD COUNT ❪ 873 A/N ❪ I remembered I had this smut idea pending since last year i think? ok here it is. ok bye im hungry

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ♡ 🌷 . . MASTERLIST

You approached the great magician Lyney with a problem: you were having trouble sleeping.

Not really expecting anything out of your conversation, as you were seeking mere emotional support, Lyney confessed that he had some dexterity in the art of hypnosis and that it wouldn’t hurt to try.

It was a success, seeing as you had fallen asleep in the first five minutes of the session, when on average, it would’ve taken you way longer. Unbeknownst to you, in the throes of sleep, he had whispered selfish suggestions into your subconscious.

... Had he known it was going to be this easy, he would’ve done it a long time ago.

He’s underserving of your love; he was aware. The moment you two met, he was unable to let go of you in all aspects. He looked forward to seeing you at his presentations, at the celebratory dinners after an unrivaled performance, and to having you visit him backstage before a show.

To take you home and have you for the rest of the night.

Perhaps he asked for too much. He thought there was a possibility of the universe knowing he didn’t deserve you, and that’s why things didn’t turn out as he daydreamed they would, without having to resort to this deceitful method...

The feeling of your heaving chest against his and your arms tightening around his shoulders as you rode him pulled him out of his mind, reminding him that he should enjoy this precious moment with you.

Lyney’s hold on your hips became tighter, taking the reigns on the pace again, canting his hips upwards to meet your body at an unforgiving pace. He sucked marks onto your neck.

Greed consumed his judgment, and he bit down with unprecedented force.

Your pained whine didn’t deter him from sucking more hickeys on your unprofaned skin. He needed this. Everyone has to know you’re his.

“Ow, Lyney…” You cried again, hoping that would send him the message to be gentler.

His thrusting ceased, and he put some space between your bodies, but not by much. It was only to take in the sight of the teeth shaped dents on your flesh, along with the reddish marks scattered in the expanse of your shoulders.

Lyney wasn’t a rough lover. He’s got enough introspection to know that.

Your existence, from day one, made him discover a new train of thoughts he was never aware that he could have: the cravings of roughing up in the most pleasurable of ways. Often, Lyney would fantasize about littering your body with his kisses and bites, seizing your arms, and securing you against his frame—not leaving a single inch of space between one another.

Your lovestruck visage seemed to lure him deeper into degeneracy, after all, not only were your eyes pleading for more, but your body as well. Lyney swallowed hard, calming himself down before he cummed too fast with how your pussy tensed around him.

“F-Fuck, Lyney— You feel so good,” You whined, locking your legs around him and using the leverage to make him thrust into you. “Why did you stop? Hurry up, please. Fuck your cum into me,”

Your words weren’t helping his case. Lyney panted against your neck, content with merely kissing and kneading your tits with his hands, his fingers pinching your nipples and making you tremble from lust.

The magician longed for this moment to never end, for the morning to never come, when the hypnosis would end for that day. Because you’ll forget everything that happened prior to the hypnosis, and you’ll want to come back to him every day so he can help you. Lyney convinced himself that he could allow himself to be selfish for once in his life.

“What a naughty mouth for such a lovely face,” He tutted before nipping your bottom lip. Whichever retort you had died in your throat when Lyney’s tongue slipped into your mouth, playing with yours without permitting a single second for you to collect your thoughts. “But who am I to deny you when you keep pulling me into you, as if not wanting to let go…”

With those words, he resumed his unyielding thrusts, and the lascivious noise of the bed creaking from the movements filled the room. Lyney hugged the leg you proceeded to rest on his shoulder, your other leg quivering from the onslaught of pleasure behind him. The position made it easier for him to stuff you with his dick; it was too much, and you lost yourself in the delightful sensations. Lyney was lucid enough to understand you were about to give out, so his hand darted to hold yours, squeezing it to keep you grounded.

Amidst the heartfelt intertwinement, a broken whine of his name escaped your lips when you orgasmed. Lyney doubled over at the feeling of your drenched cunt squeezing him so deliciously, he didn’t stand a chance and cummed almost right after you.

As he caught his breath, he helped you lower your leg back in its place and pressed his lips to yours, his hand caressing the side of your face.

[zyonsay]

Be my Boyfriend OP81

Fem aligned people may read but not f3tishize my work!!

Summary: The morning after a night out you wake up with a certain someone in your bed

Reader: Male

Warnings: Smut, Unprotected sex (Wrap it before you tap it babes), Choking, Spit, Oscar in the wild, Beautiful brown eyes like a baby cow

Now playing: "Art Deco" by Lana del Rey

AN: I've written smut before but THIS feels like the first time I've written real smut.

Also i meant hickory as in the color hickory, not hickory wood. I am not stupid i swear! *falls to knees*

Can anyone tell that im obsessed with his eyes? I AM NORMAL I SWEAR *falls to knees again*

Your head was aching badly, you had just woken up from your deep slumber after a long night out. The hangover was creeping up on you as you sat up on the bed. There was a man sleeping next to you. Wait. Theres a man sleeping next you-?

You risked a closer look and realized it was your friend Oscar, who you'd been sleeping around with recently. Thank God it wasn’t some random stranger. He was snoring quietly and looked peaceful, you decided to let him sleep a bit longer.

The floor was cold, and the sun hadn’t reached through the window yet, you carefully made your way down the stairs and into the kitchen. A hot cup of tea would surely make you feel a bit better. Just in case the sleeping man upstairs woke up, you heated enough water for two mugs. There were still a few dirty plates in the sink, so you decided to wash those and tidy up the kitchen.

Soon after you were greeted with two beautiful brown eyes. “Morning”, he was rubbing his eyes, and his soft hair was a mess. “Morning sunshine”, you chuckled while he tiredly walks down the stairs. Oscar groaned as his head hurt from the hangover. As soon as you two landed in your bed the day before, he was out like a light. Obviously not before you rearranged his guts though.

You fished out a pack of tablets from the cabinet and dissolved two tablets in a big cup of water. You offered Oscar the cup, which he eyed skeptically before drinking half of it. The medicine tastes awful, but you traded the glass for his mug and downed the rest of the disgusting liquid. Grabbing your own mug, you pulled Oscar towards the couch in the living room. You both quietly sat there, exchanging looks and taking occasional sips of your tea.

Once you were done, you placed the mugs on the coffee table. Oscar gently pulled you into his lap, holding you close. He felt warm and cozy, almost like your bed upstairs. You could’ve stayed like this forever, except… well. Oscar’s morning wood was pressing against you painfully. Feeling a bit cheeky you purposely grind against it, earning a low groan from the man in front of you.

He was now looking at you with a slight grin.

“Let me help you with that.” You carefully slid off the couch and knelt on the carpet in front of Oscars spread legs. His eyes observed you closely and only a small hint of tiredness was left in his expression. You carefully took off his shorts, appreciating his grey briefs. Offering him a mischievous look, you palm him through his underwear. Oscar groaned loudly at the contact, furrowing his brows while his face flushed.

You then pulled his boxers down, only enough for you to take his dick in your hand. “Fuck.”, he bit his lip at the feeling of your cold hands against his member. His stunning eyes were closed, and you took the opportunity to take him into your mouth. Oscar moaned loudly at the wet feeling, throwing back his head.

You swirled your tongue around the tip of his cock while jerking the rest. The scene before you was one you’d love to have on a polaroid picture. Oscar spreading his legs, trembling with pleasure and his head tipped back while begging for more.

Pushing his dick further into your mouth you gagged as it hit the back of your throat. He looked down at you with a flushed expression, sliding a hand into your curls and gently pushing his cock fully into your wet, warm mouth. You began bobbing up and down, enjoying the sight in front of you. He tasted slightly salty, slightly sweet but most importantly perfect.

You knelt there, your hands roaming his thighs, occasionally giving them a light squeeze. His body tensed and relaxed in a comfortable rhythm while you did your best to bring him pleasure. Oscar was a nice guy. He was more than that, he was the perfect guy. You'd known him for a long time now, though only recently you two agreed to hook up from time to time. Promising yourself to not catch any feelings was pointless, and you knew it from the start.

Oscar was a moaning mess by now and rambled on about how good it feels and how close he is. A sweet, tight feeling had coiled in his stomach. His body began tensing up and only a few moments later thick white ropes of cum shot down your throat, you weren’t going to waste a single drop. The feeling of your swallowing closing around his cock had Oscar moaning even louder.

After sucking him off, you collected yourself and straddled the heavily breathing man on your couch. “Take this off”, he tugged at your shirt. You did as you were told, meanwhile Oscar got rid of his own t shirt. He ran his hands over your bare chest, playing teasingly with your nipples.

You reached behind him and gave his ass a firm squeeze, before kissing his neck. As much as he likes the dominant you, today he had other plans. He pushed you backwards, making you gasp. He smiles at you smugly, before kissing and nibbling your neck, while one of his hands went under your shorts to caress your thighs. You groaned and mumbled under him, enjoying the attention. Your own hardness was now pressing against Oscar’s stomach as he was leaning over you. His body was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, you couldn’t resist touching him. He moans softly, the feel of your hands is like heaven to him.

His lips moved along your neck to leave the occasional hickey, while he shifted his free hand to your inner thigh, massaging the soft spot there. “Feel good?”, you nod eagerly while he grins at you. His sweet lips felt like velvet to your skin, you could melt right there and then. Oscar reached for the waistband of your shorts before whispering: “Can I take care of you?”, you struggle to form words and just let out a loud whine. “Words, darling.”, groaning you muster up a weak ‘please’, which appeased Oscar.

He then gently lifted your legs, taking off the last pieces of clothing covering you, now leaving you sprawled out bare in front of him. Oscar carefully took your dick into his hand, then licked a long stripe up your length. Your breaths felt heavy and warm, you gripped Oscars shoulder. He slowly took in all of your length, sucking in all the right ways. He held onto your hips and caressed them softly while humming. The vibrations made you shudder and tense.

He reached up and tapped your mouth with two of his fingers, wanting you to wet them for him. You gladly sucked on them, coating them generously with saliva as you whined. Oscar then retracted his fingers again, making you pout at the loss. But that quickly turned into gasps as he slowly pushed them into your greedy hole, making scissoring motions. Squirming and whining filled the living room, heating the atmosphere. His raspberry lips looked so perfect around your cock and his soft, longing touches lit a fire in you.

Oscar decided to add another finger, making you whine at how well he was stretching you. His big brown eyes searched yours, his deep gaze looking right into your soul. You could get lost in those beautiful hickory colored pools.

With the pace of his fingers and his mouth, the cord inside you strained until it snapped and you were swallowed by pleasure. Cum splattered all over Oscar’s face. He smiled smugly as he wiped it off his face and put it in his mouth, savoring your taste.

Now it was your turn to push him over; you gently laid your hand on his chest while he gave you a questioning look, wondering what you'd do next

You slowly sunk down on his cock and winced at the full feeling. He didn’t give you any time to adjust as he already began thrusting up into you at a brutal pace. He made sure to watch every little shift in your expression.

Your body was shaking, but you managed to whisper: “Let me ride you.” Oscar smirked at your request, halting his movements. His hands found their way onto your hips as you bounced on his dick. You leaned down while keeping up your pace and pressed a hasty kiss to his forehead. ‘Feels so fucking good.’

Oscar smiled sweetly, almost innocently, but the next moment he has his hand wrapped around your throat, pressing tightly. He began fucking into you again, making you spill curses and moans. Of course, he was a very loving person but when it came to bedroom activities he seemed almost merciless.

There was a warm feeling pooling in your stomach again, indicating your incoming climax. With his other hand, Oscar took your dick in his hand and began pumping it. Another intent, deep look from him made you feel even warmer than you already did.

Your second orgasm hit you like a freight train. You clenching around his cock had Oscar seeing stars as he came in you. Hard.

Both of you were a sweaty, panting mess, his cock still inside you while you ride off your high.

He grabbed your chin and pulled you into a sweet kiss. Oscar looks at you intently.

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

[hobisstar]

blue | y!taehyung x fem!reader

summary: breaking up over difficult reasons was always tuff to handle. Everyone had their different ways with dealing with them. But, Taehyung wasn’t everyone, and he be damned if the love of his life thought it was okay to say such a thing.

warning: nothing too bad! light cursing, a little bit of angst, Taehyung is a little bit of a manipulator in this, tae is a painter in this. possessiveness.

tag list: none!

a/n: Hello! i’ve been on a role but this one will be short! just wanted to get an idea out before i go to bed! if you like this short one, let me know if i should make a longer version of it! enjoy!

disclaimer: as always, i do not intend to say that anyone i write open are actually like this. this is purely fiction and i would like to only keep it that way.

Blue.

the color that y/n thought explained her relationship deeply. it was the color that she picked out in each apartment she shared with her lover, Taehyung.

She loved him… at the start. she really did. But once his career started to take off, he changed and for the worst. he constantly was coming home late after hang out with some painters, constantly smelling like someone else’s perfume, constantly sleeping in on days that the both of them planned to go out and see the world, see the blue.

this time, it was the last straw. taehyung had come back at 3 am with some girl and a guy that was carrying him inside. she promised herself that in the morning she would leave and never return. tired of living the life of a famous man’s forgotten girlfriend.

morning comes and y/n was awaken by the smell of coffee and breakfast but also by the sound of smooth jazz playing. She assumed Tae was in one of his many paintings moods. When he was hungover, coffee and painting was his remedy. Always came up with a beautiful painting that he described as “ lady” who he said always was made in the thoughts of Y/N.

as she got up, took a shower and did her daily morning routine, she remembered her promise. This ends today, now, right now. Yes, she loves him or loved him. But she couldn’t continue to live like this anymore.

She walked to the closet and grabbed the nearest duffel bag and packed most off her clothes shoes and under garments. Lucky for her, her best friend lived not too far from here and always offered her home to her.

Once everything was packed she was heading down the huge staircase and realized that Tae must of been in the kitchen painting this time. She put everything of hers in her car and walked back in ready to end this, no matter what he said, Y/N was completely leaving.

She walked into the kitchen hearing the sweet deep hums of her now mentally but not physically ex boyfriend. His back facing her, she cleared her voice.

“ Tae, do you remember anything about last night?” she asked sitting at the island. “ No, All i remember is that Jimin and Amy carried me home last night. Im sorry, Mi amor, for coming in so late..” he said smiling lightly. he was truly sorry even if it didn’t show. That was Taehyung.

his answers seemed cold, heartless even, but mistaken his love for Y/N. He loves her with his life.

“ Taehyung i can’t do this anymore.” y/n blurted. While still painting Taehyung answered “ Hmm? Do what my dear?” he softly put the paint brush against the canvas. He was painting an image of what their intimacy looked like in art form. Though he had plenty of these paintings, it’s the only thing he would paint after being drunk.

“ Us. Im tired of the drinking, the partying, the coming home at whatever time of night, the ditching me, the canceling dates for the faulty friends of yours. Im tired of sitting in this colorless home when our love is supposed to make it colorful. Im done, Tae. I want to break up.” You stated and took a breath that you didn’t realize you held in. Being this honest felt so refreshing. “ I don’t need your answer, i already packed my things and i’m going to stay with my family for now until i find me a place permanently.” she cut in.

nothing. Taehyung said nothing. but oh he was thinking it. his mind just running on thoughts. he wanted to be okay and accept her choice like a normal human, but he damn sure wasn’t normal. he’s always had the thoughts of locking Y/N up when the day of her maybe wanting to leave came about. he didn’t know it be that fast.

why does she want to leave him so bad? when did y/n have all these issues with his lifestyle? why is it just now coming up? why doesn’t want to talk about it? all of these of examples of what is running through his head. instead of actually letting out a answer, he lets a huff out as he puts his paintbrushes down.

“ Why are you trying to leave?” he asked lowly, “ why is my lifestyle all of a sudden a problem for you?” he just wanted answers. Though he was really trying to add time so he could think about ways to keep her locked her.

He always has bodyguards at their house in the entrance, he could have them bring her bags in and get her car towed. Have them get their food, send out his newest works while he stayed in the house with her. Yeah, he thinks he’ll do exactly that.

“ Trying? oh no Kim, i’m leaving. All of sudden? i’ve mentioned your drinking and party habits plenty of times but you thought i was just nagging you so you ‘mi amor’ d your way out of it,” Y/N stood up and walked out the kitchen to the living room. Taehyung took this time to text his body guards to grab her things out her car, bring them to the back, take her car somewhere far, sell it and put the house on lock down.

He smirked and walked out of the kitchen and stood at the door way between the living room and kitchen, watching her walk to the front door but only to freeze.

Y/N saw the blue light on security system, the light means that the house was on lock down, no way in and no way out, unless you have the code which Taehyung changes every month. He just so happened to had change it earlier this morning. Good choice he was thinking.

“ Taehyung, take off the lock down.” Y/N stated while standing by the door, waiting. He smiled and walked close to her and leaned against the wall.

“ Y/N~, Mi amor~, i find it absolutely entertaining that he had any hope in assuming i was going to let you out this house. You don’t make the choices for us, baby. I do. I decided when you can walk away. And i decided you can’t-“ - “ you can’t force me to stay in here,” “ Cut me off again and i’ll lock you up without any food or water for the next two days until you learn your lesson.” He walked away and sat on the couch organizing the table in front of it.

Y/N was trying to figure out the code. she tried her birthday, nothing, his birthday, nothing, their anniversary, surprise, nothing. “ There is no use, princess.” he turned to look at her. “ It’s not Yeon’s birthday either or the day we got him. You should be a good girl. maybe i’ll let you out early.” he smiled, the smile you used to love.

y/n didn’t expect this. she never thought Tae would do something like this. locking her and hisself in the house for god knows how long? maybe months, maybe years…

“ Let’s go paint something, baby. And don’t be so blue, i won’t hurt you…” he mumbled the last part while staring at her.

Blue.

the color y/n now understands why she thought it was their color. Taehyung always had a way of making her feel stuck. Defeated. Lost with no where to go. he made her feel…

Blue.

[ninjasmudge]

What are your thoughts on the two other monkeys? Idk if you ever heard of them, but it's the Red Bottom Ape and Long Armed Gibbon.

i actaually had some pretty lore heavy origin story hcs for those guys a couple of years ago, but i dont think i ever posted them. ill put some of the old art here and paste the lore under a cut cause its LONG (replaced the old swk and maq in the last pic with some more recent ones bc my hcs for them changed so much lmao)

their lore was well researched i spent days on it but it was a couple years ago lmao, its based on the principals they represent plus which of yin/yang they represent

long armed gibbon- can seize the sun and the moon, distinguish the auspicious from the inauspicious, and manipulate planets and stars

gibbon was born when a seed from a fir tree fell from heaven to earth. it landed on top of an eroded mountian and a tree started growing. after several hundred years, when the tree stretched high enough and was wise enough and the pine cones had gone from dark purple to blue, the trunk split one day at sunrise on a blue misty morning and gibbon walked into the world

red-buttocked horse monkey- who has knowledge of yin and yang, understands human affairs, is adept in its daily life and able to avoid death and lengthen its life

horse was born from a drop of water flung from a trough in heavens stables (part of the reason swk was so pleased to guard the horses when he went)

when she fell to earth she became a river that people often visited and talked around and played in. from this she came to understand human affairs. she also found she could help creatures avoid death or prolong their life by feeding their crops. when she knew enough, she climbed out of the river at sundown and walked into the world

sun wukong, the wise stone monkey- who knows transformations, recognizes the seasons, discerns the advantages of earth, and is able to alter the course of planets and stars

stealing from nezha reborn where the myth goes that when nüwe patched the sky, the leftover stone was where swk came from, but im changing it to one of the tiles that was used to create the furnace was dropped, leaving a monkey sized gap where he could later on slot into to keep himself alive in there. the tile was knocked out of the basket by the wind and fell to earth and this was the only one that landed on ffm. you know the story here, he absorbed chi from heaven AND earth which is why hes so powerful

six eared macaque- who has a sensitive ear, discernment of fundamental principles, knowledge of past and future, and comprehension of all things

macaque was born very suddenly when a piece of moon rock broke off and fell to earth on a new moon. the resulting meteor created a huge and sudden flash of light in a forest which created hundreds of stark shadows at once. the shadows condensed and the resulting being wouldnt have lived if it hadnt been a new moon because he needed the next hours of darkness to collect himself into a full being. but before the night was done, a new monkey was born who was able to hear everything in the radius he had collected shadows from, which if youve ever seen a meteor flash, is a long way

somethin interesting abt the things that created them- swks tile was actually heavenly, which is why he represents primarily yang (heaven). his was the only one that was CRAFTED BY heaven. gibbon and horse are both from something that fell from heaven and then the earth changed its form (the tree grew on earth from a heavenly seed, and the drop of water became a river) whereas macaque, representing the yin is fully of earth, the meteor that created him was from heaven but he didnt directly come from the meteor, he came from the shadows it created on earth. his only connection is to the earth

[kurogane2512]

KURO KURO KURO

IM SHAMELESSLY REQUESTING for a smut with ANY mommy char x g!p r that’s based off this tweet plsssss

https://twitter.com/_maiqo/status/1661162706739638272?s=20

HOLY HELL ANON I ACTUALLY GASPED LIKE MY JAW DROPPED THE MOMENT I READ MAIQO IN THE LINK I KNEW IT WAS SOMETHING GOOD AND AAAAAAA IM IN LOVE OMG OMG

18+ CONTENT MDNI

Game: Genshin Impact

Characters: Lisa x g!p reader (The moment I saw that art I instantly thought of Lisa in Elysia's place idk it just fit so well)

Type: Smut and Fluff (consensual brief somnophilia, oral, uhhh semi-public sex?, penetration, kissing, teasing)

Lisa softly knocked on Jean's office door before calling out your name, "Y/n? Are you done?~"

She twisted the knob and went in carrying a tray of snacks and tea to offer you. The two of you were doing the regular check-up of the library today and after helping arrange the ground floor of the library, Lisa assigned you to do the same at Grandmaster's office. She had barely entered the room and was about to call your name again but pursed her lips seeing the surprising sight in front of her.

She smiled to herself and quietly walked inside to keep the tray on the desk before she made her way over to your sleeping figure on the couch, gazing at your calm and peaceful sleeping face. She kneeled down and gently caressed your cheek before placing a kiss on your forehead.

"She must have gotten tired; she did do this whole room by herself on top of the ground floor of the library....My cutie is so hardworking~"

She smiled and continued gazing at your adorable face until suddenly her eyes fell upon your abdomen and she noticed a peculiar bulge in your pants. Her eyes widened before she grinned and slid her hand towards your hardened shaft, lightly gripping it over the fabric.

"I thought you were tired but clearly, the other cutie is rather energetic now~"

She whispered as she gripped your shaft more, sliding her hand up and down and rubbing it. Your brows subconsciously furrowed and she quietly chuckled.

"My~ Would you feel rewarded if I wake you up this way?~"

She rubbed your dick in her hand more, pre-cum beginning to gather on the tip and stain your pants. She looked over at the door once to ensure it was locked before standing up and climbing on top of you, straddling your legs. She moved your pants down and watched as your semi-hard cock sprung up, twitching slightly. She licked her lips as your scent filled her senses, arousing her.

"She won't mind, we have done it this way before. Besides, she's close to waking up now. I'll stimulate her slightly until then before moving to the main event~"

She placed small kisses all over your cock, going from the tip to the shaft before licking long strip across the girth. She swirled her tongue over the head, her drool and your pre-cum mixing together as she proceeded to wrap her mouth around it. Your body shivered from the sensations as she sucked your dick, giving small licks to the tip at the same time.

"Mhhmm....w-what?" you groggily opened your eyes, watching the woman above you with hazy vision until you realized it was none other than your lover who was currently sucking your cock.

"Good morning, cutie~ Did you sleep well?~"

"L-Lisa....good morning, hi...what are you doing....?" you fumbled on your words, feeling flustered at the sight.

"Hehe~ As you can see, your little self here was rather worked up so I took it in my hands to comfort it~" she rubbed her cheek over your dick as she spoke.

"I-I see...."

"So? Were you having some dream that got this cutie so excited?~"

You smirked, "Well, I no longer remember most of it but for what I do remember....it's no longer a dream~"

Lisa also smirked before crawling over your face, trapping your figure beneath her and pecking your nose.

"Is that so? Well, how about we enact what you remember in order to jog your memory? I'm quite curious to know what you dreamed of~"

You grinned then kissed her chin, "Sounds like a plan~"

Lisa chuckled, "Hehe~ So, what shall we do? Would you prefer that I...." she slid her hands down your chest before applying force and pushing you down, "....Ride you?~"

"I'm starting to think this is even better than the dream~"

"Oh, sweetheart, I'll give you an experience you could never dream of~"

Lisa removed her hat and placed it on your head before moving back. She pulled her dress down to free her breasts, perky pink nipples in front of your eyes to feast on. You swallowed thickly, watching her undo her belt and hold up her dress to show you how wet she was, slick coating her panties.

"Mm, look how wet I am, cutie~" she rubbed her soaking cunt on your dick, grinding back n forth through her panties. You could feel her wetness seep through and coat your shaft, the hot juices making you aroused as she fastened her pace and grinded more. She then abruptly stopped and leaned up slightly to move aside her panties and holding your dick up before putting it in.

The two of you moaned in unison as she slipped it in one go, thrusting down on your lap as her walls parted. Her wet and slippery walls held your dick tightly, contracting on it as if they had been craving you forever. Your dick twitched inside her, you could already feel yourself going over the edge but held back for her.

She then began thrusting up and down, riding you to her heart's content. She looked akin to a goddess as she rutted on top of you, her supple boobs bouncing with every thrust giving you a marvelous sight to behold. You moved your hands to cup them, squeezing the soft flesh and pinching her hard nipple.

"Aaaah~ Cutie....cutie....f-fuck! You are in so deep!~ Hah! More....give me more....!~

You moved your hands down to grab her waist before thrusting your hips up, the movement making her gasp in ecstasy and arch up. Sounds of your thighs slapping against her hips resounded in the office accompanied by her angelic moans and grunts. You sat up to pull her closer, her arms wrapping around your neck and legs around your waist as you thrusted into her with all your strength.

Your dick filled her to the brim, the tip hitting her deepest and most sensitive spots. Her head shot back as she moved deeper, your dick pounding her at a new angle which practically made her see stars. Your head was enveloped in her soft bosom, giving you the chance to lick and suck on the mounds of flesh.

"I-I'm cumming, Lisa! Let me pull out, ngh!~"

"No! I want it in! Fill me up, my darling!~"

Who were you to deny such a heartfelt request? You slammed deep into her one last time as you came, ropes of hot cum painting her walls. She too came soon after, her slick coating your dick. You held each other tightly as you came down from your orgasms, smiling at each other and sharing a gentle kiss.

"Wanna continue?~" you husked, and she smiled then kissed your cheek in agreement.

[tinycozycomfort]

rest in the cup of my palms (part one)

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x art student f!reader

chapter one: drawing from life

series masterlist | next chapter

series summary: you went back to school to find out who you are—to make another leap in the hope of self discovery. when you finally find that first glimpse of yourself, it’s in someone else. what happens when the mirror tries to pull you in? or  you’re everything joel could’ve hoped to find. he doesn’t let go easily.

chapter summary: ellie volunteers joel to model for a drawing class on campus. you find someone worth dreaming about.

warnings/tags: no outbreak, no use of y/n, (for everything) -> mutual pining!, possessive behavior, smut (w individual tags to come), unnecessary descriptions of joel being beautiful, ellie is joel's daughter, ellie and reader attend the same university but reader is in post-grad, age gap (joel is late 40s, reader is not), alternating pov, slow-ish burn, joel miller wins girl dad of the century via unanimous vote (for this chapter) -> masturbation (f), intense feelings of loneliness, existential rumination

word count: 7.2k

rating: explicit (18+ only! mdni)

A/N: some good ol' work up, necessary to explain the rated r plans i have for them. ive been terrified of writing a series but i'm also tired of editing everything down to be one-shot appropriate, so today we try. im full-swing into my fixation era and on my 'i cant be loved + ive known how to love you for 1,000 lifetimes' bullshit. this fic is as self indulgent as they come, but i hope you can enjoy it! and for those of you willing to trudge through this with me, i love you.

read on ao3

“To photograph people is to violate them, by seeing them as they never see themselves, by having knowledge of them that they can never have; it turns people into objects that can be symbolically possessed.”

Susan Sontag - On Photography 

───────

A halo of hot light falls through the pane of glass above the sink. Joel’s got one eye pinched semi-shut, trying hard to focus on not burning himself while he drains boiling water out of a pot of pasta. 

When he woke up this morning, the blinds on every window in the house had been strung up to the lip. He’d barely gotten a hand around one of the strings in the glass frame above the couch before Ellie appeared out of nowhere to literally slap his wrist, ‘I’m drawing’. Still groggy, he tried to challenge her, ‘Do they all have to be open?’, to which she patiently explained—for what she probably feels is the millionth time—that she needed the extra light, and if she had them all open when she started, they’d need to stay that way until she was done. 

So he left her to work, knowing she’s got midterms to finish, walking around with his eyes closed until he felt his way back into his bedroom. He came out once for coffee, and not again until dinner. This is their weekend.

Joel spoons out some of the food into bowls, leaving them to stay warm by the stove before he steps into the dining room. He stops himself half-way, hanging back in the archway to give his daughter another minute as the last shreds of strong sunlight start to wane out.

Ellie’s right where he left her: at the table, cross-legged in her chair with an eraser-less pencil held tightly in her fist. She’s hunched over a large pad of paper, the back of it lifted at an angle under a pile of old books and dog-eared tool catalogs. The sketchbook she uses as a reference guide is propped up on the corner of her left knee, leaned against the edge of the table. She rifles between two pages of it, eyeing some of the quick sketches—visual notes, as she puts it—that she took in class to help her navigate the larger, more detailed version with ease. Silent save for her short huffs of breath, she’s concentrated, wrist-corner lifted to not misplace any graphite. Her process is always the same; a little creature of habit.

She’s wearing her headphones, the cord winding dangerously low, threatening to dip into a cup of water she’d placed in the empty triangle between her lap—the same one he’d seen her with six hours ago. She hasn’t even touched it, still full nearly to the brim. He wonders if she’s gotten up at all. The girl works herself a bit too hard, he thinks, always falls head first into whatever project she’s working on, nothing if not like her dad. The corner of his mouth tugs up so tight it hurts. What is he going to do without her?

He just stands there, feet crossed on top of each other and arms in a twist over his chest, and watches her while she’s not looking, knowing she still gets shy sometimes when he catches her like this. She’s the sweetest reminder of everything good Joel’s ever done; another life he’d gladly offer his own for. 

It’s always come naturally—to be what someone needs of him—in a way that transcends reward or expectation. 

Joel had been his brother’s primary caregiver first, from birth and then well into their adulthood—always around to bail him out of jail or lend him money he didn’t have. Because he cared. Loved him. He couldn’t ever really say it, always had a problem with the wording, but he knew that at least some of what he wanted to explain had come across. He can see it in the way Tommy is with his own family.

His brother has Maria now, and the kids, and seeing how happy Tommy could be in spite of their upbringing was the first time Joel had ever put his priorities into question. Somewhere in all the caring-for he did, he’d forgotten about himself; the possibility of having his own wife and child and home. He’d always ached for that, deep down, but didn’t even know it was an option until he saw it happen. By that point, he wasn’t sure if he could do any of it, or if he even had the time to start. Then came Ellie.

She entered his life when a close friend of Tommy’s had died unexpectedly and no one came forward to claim her, unknowingly giving him a second chance; one he worked to make count. She was tough to crack at first—also like him in that way—but the love had always been there, waiting its turn after all the awkwardness and misunderstanding and adapting before finally showing its face. She’d needed him then, as much as his brother had all those years ago, carrying on the torch of purpose that Joel so feverishly searched for. 

He rolls his eyes at himself; he’s been having too many misty-eyed moments about her lately. It’s so unserious, the actuality of it; of being her dad. Going to work and the supermarket and museums, being there to chaperone field-trips and take one-thousand mostly-blurry photos of her graduation. But it’s been everything to him. He’s desperately clung to the five years of her life that she’s shared with him, and he’s so proud to witness it, but he knows she’s getting to a point where she needs to be her own person. He’ll miss her when she’s only home for summers, then only home for Christmas, then only home once in a while—so he holds on to every bit, and tries not to think about what’s next for him. 

He walks closer to her, tilting his head to try and steal a glance of what it is she’s working on. He catches a glimpse of the face of a woman, a portrait from shoulders-up. She’s pretty, with a soft and thoughtful expression, looking downward off the side of the pad. From what he could make out between the movements of Ellie’s hand, she even looks a little shy. His daughter rubs at the cheeks and nose of the girl on the paper, imitating the shadow-less areas where light would fall. Joel is mesmerized by the way she creates so effortlessly, like breathing. 

Without moving her head, she pulls a tiny white bobble out from her ear, “I know you’re watching me, weirdo.” 

Joel laughs, wet and thick in his mouth with the emotion he’s still climbing down from, “Is this how you treat me when I’m trying to feed you?” 

She smiles, he can see the fat of her cheek rounding out even from this angle, “You should’ve just said that.” 

Ellie leaves her set-up untouched, just getting up and moving down to an empty seat while Joel goes to bring the food out. 

She shifts around in her seat, feet folded again on the flat of it, eating too fast—ill-mannered—and it reminds Joel of all the nights they spent at Tommy’s for family dinner, right at the beginning, back when they’d just begun to become close. When she’d push his patience with her behavior to see if he’d say something, to see if he still paid her mind—he always did, still does, “Jesus Christ, kid. Have I taught you nothing?”

She holds back a laugh, mouth full of tomato sauce, “You love it. I’m charming.” 

He snorts, the two of them falling into a comfortable quiet for only a few minutes before she breaks it again, “Speaking of how much you love me, I need to ask you for a favor.” 

“Oh no,” He jokes, “What now?” 

“Remember those drawings I turned in of you last month?” She starts pushing around the last bite of her spaghetti, never a good sign, but he nods anyway for her to continue, “Well my teacher really liked them. And there’s been an issue with finding people to sit for the drawings. Sooo,” she really drags it out, “I signed you up.”

“What do you mean, you signed me up? For what?” 

“To model,” Joel’s mouth pops open in an immediate attempt to oppose, but Ellie’s quicker, “Didn’t you say you’d always support me in school?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Joel finishes his plate and then they’re both just clinking their forks against porcelain for a heavy eightnineten seconds before she gives it another shot.

“C’mon, seriously. I’ll get extra credit if you do it,” She lets out a long sigh like she can’t believe she has to explain anything more than that, “My professor teaches a Monday session for the master’s program and they need people. It’s just one time.” 

“Ellie. It’s Sunday. How are you gonna tell me this now?” 

“Please, you just sit there for, like, two hours while they draw you and you don’t have to talk. That’s two of your favorite things. Three if you consider that you’d be helping me out.” she looks at him with a sticky-sweet smile, eyes crinkled—like she knows she’s getting away with it. 

She might be. 

“Why don’t you ask one of your friends to do it?” Joel gathers up their plates from the table to carry them into the kitchen. Ellie picks up their still half-full glasses as an excuse to follow him.

“Because we all have class together tomorrow on the other side of campus. Plus, you’re easy to draw and—” 

“Hey.” 

She ignores the flat look he shoots her, flipping on the sink, “That’s a compliment, by the way. But really, it’s no effort and you’d be getting me into a good place with my professor ‘cause she’ll be super grateful. The budget’s kinda tight this semester.” 

“Then what am I payin’ for, if you’re gonna make me do this stuff myself?” It’s a half-hearted dig—he’s mostly annoyed because she probably already figured out he’s going to agree.

Her little smirk graduates to a shit-eating grin, she knows it, “Best dad ever.”

“You’re a pain in my ass, y’know that?”

“Just because I knew you were gonna say that, I actually signed you up for two.”

───────

Joel stumbles out of the elevator, filing hurriedly through groups of students with a new-found purpose now that he’s managed to make it to the correct floor. Ellie made a point of not mentioning that he had to be at the school at 7:30am until she was saying goodnight to him a few hours ago, because she thought it would dissuade him—she was right—so now he’s running late on top of everything else. 

He’s got the little scaled-down, splotchy-printed version of the campus map gripped tightly between his hands. Room 14B is seemingly only two turns and one corner from where he stands—if he’s holding it the right way. He wants to ask for directions, but he feels too out-of-place to set aside his embarrassment. He’s older than at least half the staff, and some of the attendees are even younger, and he doesn’t want to run the risk of looking incapable, as foolish as it is. He wishes Ellie would have just offered to show him where to go before she headed off to her own class. 

For someone who prides themselves on their ability to parent, he feels hopeless now without his daughter; not for the first time, but it’s especially harsh considering the circumstances. It hurts something bittersweet, to think about how much more they’ve bonded since he started working less and she decided to live at home her first year of college (though it’s coming to an end sooner than he’d like). Again, too many sad thoughts, and she’s not here, so he trudges on. 

He walks in two more circles before he finds the right place—down a fucking hallway and hidden behind a door he didn’t know he was allowed to open, of course. A woman with long, dark blonde hair is sitting at a desk by the door when he enters. She doesn’t look up at him.

“Good morning, ma’am. Sorry I’m late. My—uh. You teach my daughter? I’m here for—” 

“Ellie’s dad,” She cocks her head without meeting his eye, “Late? You’re about twenty minutes early, she told me you probably would be.” 

She knows me too well, the brat. He chastises her in his mind but outwardly he corrects himself, “Yes, right, sorry. I’m a little turned around.” 

“That’s alright. There’s just a waiver you need to sign, and you can get undressed in the bathroom down the hall. I’ll give you a cover-up to wear until I come to grab you.” 

Right, he’d have to be naked. He already knew that—sort-of—having seen dozens of Ellie’s sketches from semesters past. He knows the students don’t see it that way, knows that they’ve all drawn the same things so many times they would be desensitized to his nudity. They’d probably all be desensitized to him as well; in their eyes, he was just a reference, as familiar as any of the memorialized piles of fruit or arrangements of glass that Ellie's also brought home. 

Still, Joel feels a wash of anxiety come over him. He’s more than comfortable in his body, after putting it through so much, but this degree of vulnerability is severe in comparison to vanity or sex—it’s a state of living he hasn’t participated in for a long time. He doesn’t like to be seen, and being documented—having physical evidence of how he’s interpreted by others—makes his stomach turn. He hasn’t looked in a mirror for more than a moment in months, but it can’t be that bad, right? Ellie’s always given him a favorable light, but he worries she has a bias beyond belief. What if he sees something about himself he doesn’t like? What if everyone’s been able to see it all along?

Caught in his thoughts, he doesn’t realize the woman is still talking, “We have a scheduled break halfway through class. You can leave then. Next week it’ll flip and you can come for the latter half so they can finish.” She slides the form and a swath of black fabric across the table, and almost like she can sense his apprehension, finally raises her head to give him a meaningful look, “Thank you again for doing this. I know it can feel weird, but it makes a difference for them. There’ll be a joint show at the end of the month, too, with Ellie’s class.” 

He just offers her a little nod of his head, thank you, signing the form and padding to the bathroom to unceremoniously disrobe in an empty stall.

It’s just two hours. 

───────

If they make you take another figure-drawing class, you’re going to scream. 

You’d think this far into a second degree, the school board would stop requiring you to take what is essentially the same class every semester. Sincerely, the only thing that changes is how long the session runs and what number follows the class title. It’s getting old. 

To be fair, it’s not necessarily that you dislike drawing—it provides a pretty firm foundation for your personal work to stand on—it’s just tedious. Nothing is inspiring about assignment-based work, especially when they’ve decided the only way you can prove your skill-set is to make you draw the same three objects five-thousand ways. 

But it’s not up to you. 

So here you are again, two weeks from spring break, back in this frigid building after surviving another forty minutes of traffic, body still stiff from fighting the urge to fall asleep at the wheel. 

It’s important, you remind yourself, to show up and put your fullest effort into everything, no matter how much you don’t enjoy it. Even if just to prove to yourself you can still finish things.

Coming back to school was an idea you’d toyed with for years after graduating. 

There had been a lot of pressure on you to go in the first place, from your parents and your teachers and your nightmare of an ex, because according to them you’d get nowhere without it. After enough pressure and in a need to appease them, you folded and went; suffered every long night and pushed through every period of self-doubt and smiled for every ‘worth-capturing’ moment right up to the end. And then when it was over, gone faster than you could comprehend, you felt like something was taken away from you, even with how low it had made you—the worst kind of stockholm syndrome. 

In an attempt to keep some momentum, you were over-eager for more right out of the gate. There was an initial need to continue, because you’d been reliant on academic structure just by the nature of familiarity, and maybe a little ill-prepared to face who you were without guidance. Without the instruction of someone with two degrees and a smoking addiction and no teaching license. Now it sounds silly, but then you spent a few too many nights uncontrollably looking into post-grad institutions or internship programs, googling professors and reading forums for first-hand accounts. 

Then, after a year, the thought of continuing got a little less exciting, and you became comfortable in the freedom of nothing after being in school your whole life. So you pretended to research, emailed everyone about how great the options looked, signed up for one-on-ones you didn’t show up for—until people stopped asking. 

It was at that point that you finally had the time to process what you were doing and why, and accepted that you didn’t have to have all the answers, despite what everyone had led you to believe. Truthfully, you still had no idea who you wanted to be and that’s okay—living with it and living alongside it weren’t mutually exclusive. You just took time to practice being yourself—sucked up the embarrassment and did the work, little exercises in unleashing yourself onto the world instead of letting every experience be done to you. If you were going to do anything anymore, even something like continuing your education, it had to be on your own terms, to try it all in the effort of self-discovery.

So yes, applying and getting accepted and attending every class—even this one—this time around was for you—to better yourself instead of just filling an expectation. You’re determined to make good on the opportunity.

And it has been better, so far. You even have friends this time around. Okay, two, and one of them is your roommate, but it's more of a support system than what you had going into undergrad.

You say yes now, too; not to everything, but to more than before. Which is maybe how you got roped into getting ‘introductory’ drinks later this evening with everyone, now that more people have joined the program as winter thaws out and it’s easier to commute. It’ll be nice to swap ideas and catch up and maybe even get laid instead of spending hours staring at the ceiling and willing time to pass. That thought alone is enough to keep you here.

It’s just two hours.  

The room this semester is a little bigger, at least; probably the only perk that moving up so gracefully from Drawing II to Drawing III had earned you. It’s still unfortunately just another classroom; windowless to protect it from outside influence and drenched in fluorescent light to create a controlled environment. Old, stained art horses form a circle in the center of the space, crowding around a painted-gray wood pallet like an audience. A metal stool sits atop the make-shift stage, providing a seat for the subject. It’s clinical, the way the elements come together; a perfectly disarrayed scene that’s been neatly curated to emulate every ‘socratic seminar’ model you’ve seen in education since you can remember. Always the same.

You’re hoping for someone new today to rest on the chair; the department has been in less-than-preferred financial standing lately, so you’ve seen the same faces interchanged for  most of the term.

Your professor is at her desk when you make your way in, greeting you with a grin despite the tired look on her face. A hardworking woman, the shadows under her eyes gave her a beauty you could only explain as determined. You knew she cross-taught for both sections of the department, and you respected her for it. It couldn’t be anything short of a struggle to toggle between those modes of seriousness—to have the patience to answer the younger students’ unending questions and the passion to keep the post-grads engaged. 

Moving to get a seat as far on the outskirts of the cluster as possible, you watch as your classmates arrive slowly until all the slots are filled. No one really talks, probably all similarly bogged down by the early start and the cold weather outside. Ian, your friend who’d invited you out tonight, waves at you from four horses down and you halfheartedly nod back at him. 

“Good morning everyone, we’ve only got two more classes after this until your week off, so we’ll make this next one a two-parter and have critique on the twenty-first. I want you guys to focus on composition more than anything else,” She turns in her seat to write some names on the board behind her, “We’ll go for two hours then break. If your name’s up here we’ll have a conversation about your thesis. The rest of you can go.” 

Thankfully you’ve been spared this time—granted another seven-nights-straight writing the segment of your thesis that was meant to be finished two months ago. Your brain hurts inside of your skull. 

You set up your little station, sketchpad raised against the easel, body straddling the drawing horse as you fiddle with some dirty erasers in your pack. 

You can hear the slap slap slap of the model’s feet on the concrete floor as they enter—a long gait paired with hard, thudding steps; probably a man by the sound of it. Tall and heavy. 

“Okay guys, we’re starting,” She winds up the dial on a plastic kitchen timer and sets it on the edge of her desk, “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be making a few passes throughout and we’ll exchange thoughts.”

You roll your neck, knowing the model tends to take a minute to find a comfortable position, and that people watching didn’t do anything to help. A tempered soundtrack—the poorly contained buzzing of the clock and the moan of the air-conditioning—plays on in the background. Your leg is asleep. It’s cold in here. You count to thirty in your head. That’s enough time, right? You shift again, stretching your arms once more just in case.

Looking up, you peer over the side of the easel to get a quick look at the model’s pose and immediately do a double take. 

It is a man.

He’s sitting on the chair, facing the girl a few seats down from you so that you can only see him from a three-quarters view. He has one long, thick leg pushed against the lower bar of the stool, the other one, closest to you, hiked up on the seat, folded so that his knee points towards the ceiling. His arms are crossed, hugging his erect shin with his wide back wrapped over his thigh, effectively shielding the ‘naked’ parts of him from view. He looks shy, but not uncomfortable; either like he’s done this before or he’s accustomed to protecting himself—to hiding. 

The frame of his body is captivating; he looks strong but used, little nicks and scars littering his shoulders and hands. Weathered. As you make your way up his torso, you find it’s a similar state of experienced, tan profile and neck bearing the slightest difference in color from the soft of his side, and you can see the faintest curve of a hem-shaped tan-line across the dip in his shoulder. Little wisps of gray-dusted brown curls frame the edges of his face. He’s beautiful in a gentle way, with a dark, heavy brow that leads into the sharp slope of his nose, plush lips pursed like he’s concentrating. 

Part of you feels bad about staring, but it’s easy enough to disguise it as working, so you map him with your gaze again and again until you can still see him when you blink. It takes the constant movement of your classmate’s hand sketching something in your periphery to remember you’re being timed. 

You choke out a cough, repositioning your body and grabbing some charcoal. 

The way you usually approach this task is simple: get down the general gist of the body, careful to keep out the details of the person in favor of capturing light and weight—there’s a graded challenge to be considered, after all. 

Yet as you watch him, you decide you can fulfill the requirements in a way that gives him more room to exist. You crop the drawing tighter, paying careful attention to the landscape of his face; the hills of his cheekbones and the valley between his lips. You want to immortalize him. 

You’re suddenly deeply concerned with the history that’s woven itself into the shape of him, in what happened to make him look this way. It seems like life has been useful to him, but that he’d had to grow from something to make it so—like he had to work for it. He’s the living manifestation of his own grief and enjoyment and passion, and you want to know all of it.

Countless minutes pass as you take him in and spill him out, fingers moving quickly to recreate the weighted feeling of his posture, exhausted and heavy, muscles held together on the string of bone that runs through the center of his back. You write him down, again and again, flipping to a new page half-way through to get in one last version of him—one for yourself. 

You’ve never seen him before, but you see part of yourself in him. He mirrors the anxious peace you’ve been operating under for the last few years, humming with energy but willfully stagnant. It makes you feel seen, less burdened by your recent inability to connect—he makes you want to keep trying.

You wonder if he writes or draws or makes, and if he’d show you. You want to hear him talk. You want to see the other side of him, literally and metaphorically. You want to feel—

The tinny ring of the alarm sounds off, and you’re taken out of the fantasy. 

The second drawing is only really half done, but you didn’t make it with the intention of sharing it anyway, so you flip back to the original to hide it.. 

You try not to watch the man when he stands—remembering that just because he’d been hidden before doesn't mean he wasn't naked the entire time—maybe more for your sake than his. You peek around the room instead, taking a healthy, albeit competitive, glance around for other interpretations of the man; did they see him too, the way you do?

When you look up to take a comparative look, he’s gone. You’re a little disappointed, admittedly, but there’s still one more chance to interact with him, and you can make up for it then. You start to pack up your things in an effort to make it to the parking lot before the crowd. A sudden rise in the volume level in the room tells you that the shock of the early morning has started to burn off. You try to tune it out, so much so that you don’t hear someone walking up behind you. 

“Wow.” It’s a man’s voice, deep and smooth. You pivot in your seat. 

It’s him, in all his communal-robe wearing glory, even more gorgeous from head on. It’s a pleasant surprise, this reveal; his beauty is evenly distributed, like a handwritten note that extends into the margins or when a movie’s ending is just as good as the start.

“Oh. Hi. Thank you.” You feel exposed, like you got caught doing something bad, even though there are ten other people in the room with even more detailed portraits of him.

“Can I see the other one, too?” 

“What?” 

“You flipped your page. I didn’t see anyone else do that. Did you make two?” 

You just nod, shocked that he was watching you back, peeling back the paper to reveal to him the unfinished drawing. He won’t question it if you don’t give him a reason to. 

“Are you gonna finish it?” He asks, eyes rolling over it with an intense curiosity.

“Uh, probably not. I don’t like it as much as the first one.” Maybe lying your way through this would provide better reasoning than ‘I wanted a part of you that no one else could see’.

“Can I have it?” 

When you can’t find something to say fast enough, he just continues.

“I’m sorry, is that rude? If you’re just gonna get rid of it, I’ll take it. It just… looks like me. I mean they all do, I’ve been told I have a ‘simple face’,” He coughs awkwardly in acknowledgement of his own tangent, “I just mean to say that it feels a lot like me. If that makes sense.”

“You’re actually very visually interesting.” Is the first thing you can think of, and fuck, did that come out really fucking wrong, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Maybe it’s better if he takes it, if it’ll stop you from fumbling, “But yeah, you can have it.” You pull a little plastic mail-tube out of your bag, ripping the drawing free from its perforated tether and rolling it in on itself. 

The edges of his mouth pull up, a cute little thing, free of laughter or judgement, “Thank you. I’m Joel.” One of his hands drapes across his stomach, palm spread over the knot of the wrap—he’s holding himself at length again. Why? 

“Hi Joel. You seem to know a fair amount about this whole thing. Not your first time, then?” You offer him your name in return, and he parrots it back—guard still up, still standing too far away. 

“It is, actually. The closest I’ve come to this is sitting in the yard for my daughter,” He watches as you slide the drawing into the cylindrical case, “You’re very talented.” 

“Thank you.” It feels weird to hear the praise twice, “How’d they get you to pose for no money? I heard the department’s a little strapped. I’ve been subbing in for the undergrads too when I can.” 

“My daughter volunteered me, she’s on the other side of the program. Your teacher was giving out extra credit.” He takes the roll when you pass it to him, going out of his way to grab it from the middle, his thumb grazing yours. Your skin heats up where he’s touched it, and you look down at the floor, suddenly nervous. 

“Wow, this is the first time I’m hearing anything about that.” You continue to pack away items into your bag, “I’m owed quite a lot if that’s true.” 

His face falls in on itself in a wince, “Oh. Didn’t mean to do her in like that.” You can feel him looking at you for a few beats too long, and his eyes narrow like he’s about to say more. 

In the same moment, as if summoned, your professor turns on her heel, walking over to your bench. 

“It’s okay. I’ll be okay without it. I’ll see you next week, right?”

He shakes a little, releasing his stare, and throws a thumbs up in your direction with his protective hand, “Yeah, see ya next week. Nice to meet you.” 

───────

After another four-hour class and a too-long nap and a break for dinner, everyone from this morning joins together in a few cars to head to a bar downtown. You meet up with Ian, who offered to drive as a bargaining chip, because he knows by now that you’d back out if you had to show up on your own.

The bar is dark and divey and perfect for being overly-observant in secret. You’ve warmed up to this crowd enough, but you’re still on plus-one basis with a lot of them, Ian serving as your invitation. You like to just listen to them at first during these outings, strategically planning your involvement so you don’t feel put on the spot when they give you a turn.

It’s a lot like being in class; the group of you occupying a dimly lit corner, a round-table of bodies, with the person in the center alternating as the topic changes. Tonight you stay at the furthest end.

You cling to the single tequila soda you ordered, watery and flat by now with pea-sized ice chips bobbing around in the center to avoid the heat of your fingers. You watch them swim, tipping your cup to see them swirl in a frenzied circle until they disappear. 

Some guy from your English class—Andre or Andrew or who cares—is talking at you, making his best attempt at what you think is supposed to be flirting. It’s really just him asking your opinions on his five favorite books, not hiding his disapproval when you mention you haven’t read one or the other. 

You watch Ian, who left you twenty minutes ago in search of the bar-top for another drink. He’s caught now on his third conversation on the way back, maybe thinking he’s doing you a favor by taking his time. You try relentlessly to catch his eye instead, and he bounds over without question when he sees you. The glass of wine in his hand is already half empty, and the English-class-guy spooks at the sight of what he probably thinks is competition. So much for that.

“Having fun?” he prods when he slips in the chair beside you, already aware that you are absolutely very much not having fun. 

Ian’s a nice guy, and he means well. You met him a week into your first semester—almost a year ago now—at orientation, because your last names were the beginning and end of the line of their respective letters. He was from somewhere in Canada, studying photography with a minor in painting and drawing. He’s maybe a year or two older than you, though you’ve never asked to confirm; tall and long and pretty, for lack of a better word, with big eyes and a permanent split in the little bangs that cover his forehead. He’s the first man in years you’ve been comfortable around, never initiating anything or pushing too hard for your friendship. All in all, no one’s been as welcoming to you, except the person you literally live with, and you’re happy to let him drag you out if it means he’ll continue to look after you the way he does.

“Of course, when have you ever known me to have a bad time?” 

“No luck with Adrian?” Adrian. You were close.

“Just likes to hear himself talk, I think. I wasn’t interested in being an audience.” 

He hums, “Someone else on your mind?” 

“Like who?” You lean the lip of your cup against your mouth.

“Saw you making eyes at the model today,” He teases, nudging you in your rib when you take a sip of your drink so that you keel over slightly. You sputter, unamused with the tactic to get you to fess up.

Was it that obvious?

“Isn’t that the point of the class?” 

“Yeah maybe, smartass, but that’s not what I meant. I saw him talking to you, saw you give him a little gift,” He bobs his eyebrows at you suggestively, “Excited for him to come back next week?”

“So I can stare more, you mean?” 

“So you can get his number.” 

“Ian.”

“I’m just saying you should try and find someone outside our section of the building. No writers, either, obviously.” He gestures to where Adrian is already trying his shtick on some girl from your class.

“He’s a little too old for me, don’t you think? His daughter goes here.” You muse. He’s mostly right about you needing to expand your reach, but you won’t let him off that easily.

“Maybe. But if you don’t care, and he doesn’t care, what’s it matter? He’s not too old to fuck you.” He makes a face and you roll your eyes. 

The thought is nice, but you know forging relationships is unlikely when you’re concerned, at least as of late, “I don’t want to spend my night talking about people I’m not going to fuck.” 

“Whatever you say.” He slinks out from his seat, mumbling something about a glass of water. A few steps away, he looks back over his shoulder, “You’re not doomed, by the way,” the asshole can read your mind, “You can enjoy yourself without feeling guilty. You’re allowed to like people.” 

And then you’re alone again. 

It’s like that for another hour, small attempts at chatter and meetings until you realize you’re too tired to fuck anyone, let alone continue to sit upright. Being up so early this morning took more of a toll than an hour nap could fix, and you're begging Ian to take you home. He agrees, spending the trip trying to plan another outing later in the week before everyone’s gone on vacation.

You give him a sleepy goodbye when he pulls into your apartment complex, making sure he’s still going to class tomorrow before letting him drive away. Once you’re inside, slipping quietly in through the front door, you realize your roommate isn’t home. She’s probably still in a late class or at her boyfriend’s or somewhere else. You enjoy the quiet enough to not think about it too hard.

The five sips of tequila-mostly-water has settled into your stomach by now, making you a quarter-second slower when you strip all your clothes off and climb into bed. 

You twist under the sheets, and after a while your skin starts to feel too hot, even in the cold air of your room. Breathing deep, you try to think of something boring to get your mind to still, but when you sense the sleep about to take over, it switches.

You see his face behind your eyelids, the man from today, strong and pretty and delicate, remembering all your favorite details—the length of his fingers and the depth of his voice. You curse yourself for assigning this importance to him. He’s just another page in your portfolio, if you even keep him, yet you can feel a slow heat bubble up at your core when you remember the stretch of his body under the robe. It’s okay to be taken with him, you think, he’s objectively gorgeous. 

Your conversation with Ian replays in your head—less about his sincere advice and more about how you need to get laid. It’s been too long; maybe you are just horny, and maybe taking care of it just this once could be enough to stop this hollow interest from growing. 

You reach a hand down under your blanket, the tips of your digits pushing into the slit of your cunt. You’re wet, arousal tacky and pooled so much that the light pressure you meant to be exploring with is enough to have you accidentally slipping inside. Okay, he’s really hot. So what? Was it really that bad if you thought so?

You dip a finger further in, timid at first; you’re used to keeping quiet for this kind of activity, and even though your roommate was gone when you got here, it doesn’t mean she hadn’t come in in the thirty minutes of rolling around you’d done before giving into your desire. You lay your free hand over your mouth just in case, teeth biting into the meat at the base of your thumb to keep yourself quiet. 

You slide in a second finger to the knuckle to join the first, the light stretch of it enough to make you pant. You see him again, hard and soft and beautiful. You think about what his skin would taste like, if he’d let you sink your teeth into the sinew of his neck. It feels weird to know what he looks like without his clothes, and you’re weirdly proud of yourself for holding back from seeing him fully; it's easier to dream about that way. You wonder how he’d present himself to you, how he’d want to fuck you. You imagine him winding a hand around the hinge of your jaw, fingers pressing hard into the soft of your cheeks. Would he be gentle? Would he make it hurt? You suspect either would be too much. You feverishly palm your clit, hips canting in an effort to climax. The pictures flash faster—his cock in your mouth, his tongue in your cunt, the way he’d spit and grip and hold—and you’re coming, drooling over your hand as you hear him say your name in your mind. 

You take your hand away after a minute, breath pushing out heavily from your nose. It’s fine, you needed to do it, just one time. No shame in that. It’s out of your system now. 

And if you see his face one more time before you fall asleep, it’s probably an afterthought.

───────

By the end of the week, you come to a horrible conclusion. 

It starts the next morning when you take your sketchbook out, itching to get a handle on the many writing assignments you’ve been dutifully ignoring, hoping for an outline or a free-flow of ideas. Nothing comes to mind. You draw a little bit to fill the space while you think, just a mess of material on the page, strokes of your hand that leave barely anything behind. 

Then on Wednesday you’re at your laptop, typing with one hand while the other one slides against the wood of the dining table, down and around in a loop, mimicking the same shape each time. 

And again last night in the shower, letting the shame of a different semi-failed night-out wash over and off of you. You slosh your foot around in the water in the basin below, catching it as it runs down and pools, ankle dragging in a tiny, controlled movement. 

It’s not until now that you put it together.

You’re sitting at your desk, with creative materials at your disposal this time, trying to make sense of what it is you’re forming. You find that no matter the medium, your hand automatically makes a single hard line. The same line, from memory. It’s negligible at first, just a light press of pen or pencil or crayon, until it drags down, down, down. It’s not until you lift your utensil that you recognize it. The hook of a nose and the crest of a top lip. 

A hard pit forms in your stomach, blood draining from your head to gather in the center of your chest, a blooming sickness of obsession you haven’t felt in a long time. You’re drawing him. You’ve been drawing him. You know this feeling, have participated in this kind of behavior. These are the actions that cause the humiliating dregs of attraction to bleed over into fixation—juvenile and universal and unavoidable.  He’s going to be a problem.

[kkydult]

— Lights out

non idol!minghao x introvert!gn!reader - fluff + mischief(?) - 1.5k

a/n. i haven’t written in a while, i hope you enjoy this im pretty much done with school so i might be active again soon !!

“You can’t be serious right now — you brought me here” you whine at your friend, one of your closest friends at that, she had this big plan on taking you out to actually live life after being down for months over nothing and now…

“I’ll make up for it. Please, just go try talk to people, they’re my friends you’ll get along well… I’m so sorry” she pushes you gently with soft shoulder pats towards the entrance of the building where the main event was taking place, you turn back to her with a frown. It really seems pointless if she’s not there, you don’t even want to talk to people.

She gives you an apologetic smile paired with a gentle wave and there she goes waving her hand on the main street for a taxi abandoning you finally. You decide to suck it up for at least half an hour, she can’t really get mad at that considering she abandoned you.

The soirée is of course on the rooftop so you’re in the elevator for 3 minutes at least before you get there, 30 mins will fly by. Naturally you find yourself by the bar while everyone else has a place in the crowd, dancing, chatting, it all seems fun but you’re out of your comfort zone, the alcohol should help but you’ll be out before it hits.

Minutes passed nothing changed, a few drunk guys tried to make conversation after noticing your “loneliness” but they quickly realized you were alone for a reason. As soon as you get up you stumble on your feet, bumping into a new stranger, the surprised look on his face as he holds your arms to help you up makes you actually want to talk, but the daydream is swiftly caught off by someone else, a girl this time and she’s not too pleased with your clumsiness. Being light headed is a curse.

“Get your hands off him” she snatches your arm away from his grip, the look she gives you confuses you so much considering you did nothing in the situation, you’re just about to apologize and call it a day only for her to snap at you once again, “You’re so embarrassing being all over him like that” before you can defend yourself she walks away dragging him along with her, your eyes meet his and an amused smile creeps on his lips, you scoff in disbelief and return your focus on getting out of there.

Only reason you had to get up the next morning after such an exhausting night was for your regular art class and while you could easily cancel, you needed it to stop your chronic bed rotting. You get there a few minutes before the class starts and watch as the room fills up gradually. Your eyes linger on one person in particular, he looked familiar but you couldn’t place it at first until he catches you staring and gives you that smile again, your eyes shift back to your canvas and you’re rethinking getting up this morning.

The class is like background noise and your eyes are completely fixed to your canvas till the assignment starts. Something is telling you you’re overreacting because you’ve never seen him before this and now after that incident he’s all of a sudden your classmate and the worst part is he’s directly in front of you, he can probably tell you’re hiding behind your canvas. You finally focus on the task at hand, glancing at the model and analyzing in shape before replicating the movement on your page, the urge to look up at him is literally the only thing that’s constant in your mind so you take a peek between strokes. First glance, he’s not looking at the model, second glance, he’s literally looking at you, third glance, why the hell is he staring at you?

He’s making this harder than it should be, he should focus on drawing. It’s making it hard for you to concentrate and it wasn’t easy in the first place, you look up in his direction again just to be sure, this time he’s not looking but his gaze shifts like he could feel yours and for some reason you don’t look away, he tilts his head slightly with a soft smile as to ask why you’re staring and it snaps you right back. Now you’re trying to distract yourself with the drawing but it’s barely effective when you’re basically under the spotlight, you can feel the heat spreading all over your face.

Once the class is over you debate on confronting him or just leaving and never turning back of course you choose the latter but it’s never that easy, you’re about to step out right when your professor reminds you it’s your turn to clear up the class and obviously you’re paired with him, Minghao. The class gets empty quickly and now you’re alone together and it feels so awkward, you feel obliged to say something dumb.

“Were you staring at me?” you ask completely avoiding his face as you arrange the materials into their respective cupboards, your head jolted in his direction when you hear him snicker as if you were joking, he looks at you with that smile still plastered on his face enjoying every moment of this exchange.

“Why would I be staring at you?”

“You tell me, I literally saw you” his smile grows and for some reason it makes you nervous like your stomach is acting weird, he’s making this feel so weird to you cause why would he be staring at you? he’s literally across the room but it feels like he’s pulling you in with his remarks,

“oh you saw me?” you can only muster out a hum in response with a slight nod, why do you feel so little? he sighs finally grabbing his coat from the hanger, “You were just in my view, don’t worry” and just like that he’s gone leaving you there with a wink and a stupid statement, whatever you were gonna change classes anyway.

Makes absolute sense that the only time you’re thinking nonstop about a guy is when he literally made fun of you in your face multiple times. It’s probably been two weeks since you saw him last and his face, his voice, his stupid smile have been on heavy rotation in your mind daily, it’s especially annoying considering you have no interest in seeing him again, it was too embarrassing for you last time it would only be worse. You’ll get over it he’s just a hot guy.

“WHAT A GUY?!” you turn over and there she is, you don’t even know how she got into your house but she’s gonna make this a big deal,

“Please no.. I don’t want to think about it” she pouts for literally a second then gives you the most demonic smile ever, “I have the perfect solution, actually that’s why i’m here. To make up for last time. Yay!” she drops her bag that’s probably filled with dresses and makeup on the floor and drags you off your comfort zone.

Just like that you’re back at 2 weeks ago at the front door of a nice apartment only this time you won’t be going in alone, she’s holding on tightly to your arm you can tell she’s excited as you make your way in. As you walk through the crowd you realize she quite literally knows every one and so every corner is a new conversation, it almost starts getting repetitive.

“Haoo! Oh wow I didn’t expect to see you here” You look up to greet this new friend and it’s him, you almost say it out loud out of shock. As soon as your eyes meet you feel a jolt across your heart it feels so silly to be so weak just from a man’s gaze and yet. He wasn’t just looking at you he was taking in every detail of your face.

He turns back his gaze to your friend, greeting her back with a soft kiss on her hand right before bringing his attention back to you, a soft smile on his lips as you let him take your hand to place a kiss upon. His gaze lifts up at you and that smile resurfaces forcing you to divert your gaze.

“Are you still embarrassed?” he asks softly keeping his eyes on yours, his eyebrow raising slightly. You turn over to your friend and she’s already gone to continue greeting others, you sigh before looking back at him and he breathes out a soft laughter letting his smile linger as his eyes travel down to your lips,

“Okay i’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d leave really. I was just teasing” you feel even more embarrassed from that, you really thought you wouldn’t have to see him again. The movement of the crowd drawing you closer and closer to each other, he can probably feel your breath on his chest, the way he’s looking at you is only making it heavier.

“I didn’t leave cause of you.” he tries to hold back his smile this time looking away with his eyes shut before coming back to you, he nods understandingly making you roll your eyes at him,

“Just you know… don’t avoid me anymore, it was fun teasing you but I actually want to get to know you”

[majorproblems77]

Sacred realm, Sacred realm, Sacred realm!!!!!

OH BOY, I AM EXCITED ABOUT THIS ONE

Prepare yourself for the most excited screaming you've ever heard because this update is wonderful and I love it and I'm so excited about it that I'm writing this instead of sleeping and it will be worth it.

Set the clock its 12.45am lets see if I can do this before I have to go to bed for the morning shift.

Alright, now for the important stuff! Sacred realm belongs to @zelda-the-sacred-realm, and all art from the comics belongs to the comic artist. I've got their permission to do these!

Link to the comic can be found here! :D

Now, get some popcorn and if your like me probably an energy drink too and lets goooooo!

Firstly...

HI

HELLO THERE

OH MY

Big evil big bad. Who's hair is stunning i could never ngl.

(Investigates)

It's awesome to see the black knight like this. (I believe that's right? Correct me if I'm wrong.)

Though im trying to figure out what he found unexpected? Is it Sky? Is Sky the unexpected thing? Good, No body expects the blorbo to come out of the medallion and whoop ass.

Self-sacrificing boy please you are in pain

Cinnamon roll link please i know you're not used to this, but he's got this

He's so damn pretty dammit, pretty boy right here. Hylia chose him for his looks first, 10/10.

Yesssssssssss

GET THEM! GET IT!

THE FACT THAT THEY JUMP IN FRONT OF HIM IS GIVING ME SO MUCH LIFE THEY ARE LIKE PROTECTIVE UNCLES OF THE SMALL CINAMON ROLL.

Like low key look how Sky is moving he's pushing towards time but moving more to the right to do so then time is. Which would indicate that he's moved rather quickly to get in front of this thing.

They have to protect the small hero and it gives me life.

Okay, this all but confirms this isn't the first time they've done this.

Oh and it has to be said

BY THE POWER OF STUBBORN FRIENDSHIP!

That's a practised spell

(using a few panels from this update here) Chapter 4 - part 1

So, I think that the last time the spirits gathered was sometime around when Twilight was still alive, we know that Time had direct contact with Twilight because of the comic panels in the last update.

We also know that Time recognised Sky when he first appeared in the last update.

So there one of two explanations

The medallion or something akin to it has been used in a previous hero's journey. And so some of the spirit already know each other

Or being a spirit grants them foresight that they can just fight with each other like this.

Im more inclined to lean towards the first one at this stage because of that recognition from time but to be honest I think we need to meet Twilight first before we get any answers about that.

I am also going to assume the element that time yields is Electricity (Or time haha.)

It looks like lightning, but we've also seen him use a time spell so I'm not entirely sure at this stage.

Gonna lean towards lighting tho, it suits him

YEAH GET HIM!

He looks so tired, and the lines against him have been growing longer. I assume its more and more of the barrier sucking his energy away.

Pretty boy alert

i am once again an advocate for the Sky is the Best Bean Club he just needs a nap he's going to be fine

Also, Medalion jails for Sky because he's eepy.

I assume this is how we are going to keep Sky out of this arch, he is too tired and is resting from doing this now. I hope we see you soon blorbo!

HA

This made me chuckle, Time just grabbing him by the waist like the child he is brings me joy (Im aware Link isn't a child but he is in the cinnamon roll outfit right now so he is a child)

And time is older than him and is at current the only one who can help with the current predicament.

We interupt the end of this post for a Sky appreciation segment because he is the best bean and is my blorbo and got a bunch of great panels this update

He

Being the hero

Jumping into harm's way

The face of determination

He

Sleepy

Sleepy boy we got sleepy sky and I love him

Okay im done, We shall get back to the end now.

That's everything from me! :D

I hope you enjoyed my rambling please do let me know if you spotted anything I didn't! Thanks for hanging out with me and for uhh, also hanging out as I yell excitedly about my blorbo because, to be honest, I love him and it wouldn't be something from me if I didn't soooo....

Yeah!

Thanks again to the artist for letting me do this! I really appreciate it!

Have a great night!