#pencils?? gone. blank canvas.

[jenscx]

LET ME IN — yu jimin x f!reader

you return to your hometown after being overseas for years. there was no possible way for you to anticipate your old high school sweetheart waiting at the airport.

TAGS — angst, little fluff, exes to lovers, happy ending, high school sweetheart, cursing

WORDCOUNT — 5.1k

the sweater that you had picked out today, feels unfamiliar on your skin. it’s the one which reads, ‘seniors of 2018’. it’s the one you had never gone near, leaving it to rot in your closet. it’s the one that holds the most painful memories for you. how could a piece of clothing cause you so much pain?

frankly, you know why. it’s the one jimin had given to you as you left for the train to the airport. “something to remember me by,” she had stated after pulling it over the top of your head.

you had huffed, playfully asking, “how could i ever forget you?”

your closet had witnessed your stares— or rather glares at the sweater. not until an hour had passed, when you finally heaved a sigh and grabbed it off the hanger that was situated at the corner of the closet. it’s just because it’s comfortable, you had reasoned before. and it didn’t matter what you wore underneath the puffer jacket, it would end up covered.

of course, these were all excuses, trying to deny the very fact that it just reminded you of jimin. and you were very welcoming towards such reminders.

reminders of what?

you shake your head, picturing a blank canvas before the melodic laughter filled your ears. jimin’s laugh.

the screeching of your luggage’s wheels distract you. aeri’s standing at the door, a hand on your suitcase.

“hey girl,” she checks the watch on her wrist, “we gotta go. flight’s at 2.”

you nod, ignoring the fact that you had spent almost two whole hours thinking about the repercussions of returning back to… home? could you even call it that?

aeri seems to notice your inner turmoil, since in the taxi, she places a comforting hand over yours, sending you a small smile. while it didn’t really settle your nerves, you appreciated the effort nonetheless.

the journey to the boarding gate is like a fever dream. your airpods betraying you, randomly shuffling to a girls’ generation song. it was like a cry back to the past, when you and jimin would listen to girls’ generation songs together.

for jimin, you had complied.

you open your eyes, you can only see the back of someone’s head above the aeroplane’s seat. if you keep your eyes closed for too long, you might start to envision a blur of jimin’s perfect eyes, her nose, her lips that were always pursed in disappointment when she caught you and minjeong stealing her snacks…

the realisation that you can’t remember the face that once made you the happiest girl on the planet hits hard. it hits harder than the guilt and misery you felt when jimin, a week after you had left korea, sent a flurry of messages that went unresponded.

“i didn’t know you liked girls’ generation,” aeri comments. startled, you stare at your phone, the lock screen wallpaper being jimin’s back displaying girls’ generation’s holiday night baseball t-shirt. the girl had forced you to buy matching ones with her, you recall bitterly.

“i don’t,” you answer coolly, swiftly turning off your phone. aeri eyes you weirdly but eventually lets you off the hook and leans back into her seat.

the rest of the thirteen hours flight, you busy yourself with work— leftovers from the time before break, drafts of sketches, thesis statements and long-winded essays. while a plane was not the best environment to finish a full drawing, you could at least make some rough sketches. somehow, your pencil graphite gravitates from sturdy, concrete buildings to soft cheekbones, hooded eyes, pouty lips.

shit, you blink, taking in your subconscious sketch of a woman, familiar to your past.

almost instantly shutting your sketchbook shut, you ignore the implications of what your mind was telling you. the crew neck sweater itches at your neck. it’s almost like the words embroidered on the cotton burn into your heart, to always make you remember and recall the time before messy relationships, longing feelings and just enjoying the present time.

time. you didn’t have much of it anyway.

maybe this trip would allow you to make peace with the past. you wouldn’t flinch whenever your friends would talk about league of legends champion, ‘katarina’, or you wouldn’t immediately decline movie night with aeri in fear that one of the actresses would look eerily similar to jimin.

allowing your brain to wander past your comfort zone, you wonder what she's doing now. was she a flight stewardess? did she manage to finally get better at pubg? was her favourite colour still blue? did she still have that sparkle in her eyes when food was brought up?

the last thought makes you chuckle, reminiscing how excited jimin was whenever food was involved. when yizhuo would bring back mala snacks from china, jimin would be gone in a flash.

(so would yizhuo’s snacks, you can’t count the number of times you were forced to lie about who the perpetrator was.

maybe it was worth it when jimin would beam at you, flashing a bright smile that rivalled the shine of diamonds).

with bittersweet memories, you drift off. sleepless nights made up for, by just giving yourself permission to think about her.

you dream of crashing waves, two people on the shore, just sitting down and gazing at the scenery. the sunset’s everlasting in this timeline. like time doesn’t exist and all they did was stare at the deep ocean.

before you even get to see their faces, the announcement rings throughout the flight.

you sigh deeply, catching the attention of aeri.

“you okay? you slept so soundly, i thought you died,” the japanese girl asks worriedly. you laugh, it was the best sleep you ever got, and it was on an aeroplane.

strange how our consciousness works.

“i’m good,” this time you weren’t lying.

you stare at the glass doors, wondering if minjeong had told anyone else to come fetch you. it wasn’t a far fetched thought, maybe the girl had asked yizhuo to come as well. the chinese girl would kill minjeong if she didn’t tell her about your arrival back in korea after what? three, almost four years?

“hey, i asked my friend to pick us up and she might have brought someone else,” you warn aeri.

“oh that’s fun… why do you sound so scared?”

“because, the other girl is a little overbearing,” you scoff, “she might try to climb you, just a warning.”

aeri widens her eyes as you two drag your luggage to the gates.

she gapes, “no kidding? is she a koala or something?”

“something like that,” you shrug.

the doors open. it’s your first step (not really) into korea. the air is the same anywhere else, but the feeling isn’t.

it’s the feeling of uncertainty. the feeling of fear. aeri clasps your free hand tightly in hers, sensing your hesitance.

your gaze glides over the crowd of people waiting for their own family. aeri makes a noise of recognition and she pulls you to the side, you finally spot someone familiar.

“minjeong…!” you call out, voice going silent at the sight of a girl that is most definitely not minjeong.

it’s not yizhuo either, that’s for sure.

“did minjeong get plastic surgery or something?”

you want to run.

“because… that’s not— that’s not minjeong,” you whisper, “that’s yu jimin.”

aeri deadpans, “you say that like i know who the hell she is.”

you want to kill minjeong. and maybe jimin wants to kill aeri with how hard she’s glaring at her.

jimin only trots slowly towards you.

jimin’s eyes dart from aeri’s face back to yours, her hard, cold gaze trailing down to your sweater that has come uncovered by the puffer jacket. your eyes narrow when she raises an eyebrow at you, as if asking you, “why are you wearing that?”

you don’t answer her, because you don’t know either.

“i’m jimin, y/n’s—”

“friend,” you interrupt, quickly turning away to avoid the flash of hurt on jimin’s face.

the mentioned girl recovers quickly, putting on a fake smile, “classmate of y/n from high school.”

“i’m uchinaga aeri, y/n’s roommate, thank you for picking us up!” aeri grins widely, ignoring the deadly lasers pointing her way.

“where are you staying, if i may ask?” jimin’s sharp tone doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“with y/n—”

you cover aeri’s mouth, knowing how jimin gets, “it’s none of your business.”

your roommate makes a noise of indignation and licks a long strip across your palm. you groan, taking it off her mouth and wiping it on her jacket.

“that’s so gross,” you mutter in english.

“your english has gotten better,” jimin notes as the three of you walk to her car.

you don’t know what to say, so you stay silent.

“where do you stay, jimin-ssi?” aeri makes small talk to cover up the awkward silence. you thank her internally.

jimin stares at you through the mirror, “with y/n.”

you bite your lip, nervous at what jimin might say next. you had never told aeri about your complicated relationship with jimin and you didn’t plan to. only because of kim minjeong meddling in, now it seems like everything has to be uncovered again.

“she’s a bad roommate, right?” surprisingly, aeri ignores jimin’s statement and instead continues to complain about you.

you’re shocked, to say the least. you thought aeri would have started blabbing and asking probing questions about your past roommate situation. or maybe she noticed your sullen look.

“i thought four years would have been enough for her to change her bad habits,” jimin says.

you know for a fact she isn’t talking about the same thing as aeri. jimin was even worse than you as a roommate; eating your secret snack stash, never cleaning up the pile of laundry she had in her room and always invading your alone time in bed.

“many things have changed,” you mumble, “i’m not the same as before.”

the car goes silent, jimin probably analysing your words while aeri pouts, confused by the strange tension you had with your so-called friend.

“if you desire something enough, you’d want it to stay the same forever.”

you retort, “change is inevitable.”

aeri says quietly in the corner, “i know the guy who said that, his name is like john, or something.”

struggling to keep your laughter silent, you splutter in aghast at aeri’s sudden general knowledge.

“you’re so strange,” you comment.

aeri laughs, “i know, but you like me for that, right?”

(“—only had a brain the size of a walnut, that’s why the stegosaurus was one of the dumbest dinosaurs!” jimin reads out loud from your bed.

you stand at your vanity, finishing up your skincare, trying not to laugh at jimin’s absurd dinosaur facts, “you’re so weird.”

“you like that about me though?”)

you sense how intimate the conversation feels for the both of you, so you stop answering aeri and instead focus on jimin. her grip on the steering wheel has tightened significantly, eyes burning with something you can’t identify.

“you’re being annoying again, go to sleep or something, it’s a long drive from here to my house—” you halt in the middle of your sentence, finally questioning the very fact of… why?

why is yu jimin here? even if minjeong asked her to, why? the jimin you knew would never do this. the jimin you knew would never give up her sleeping time just to fetch an old friend, who she maybe had something going on with, and a stranger? yizhuo had friends from china who were visiting, and even then, jimin refused to fetch them from the airport. she was the only one in your friend group with a licence so it only made sense to ask her.

you try to bury yourself in the sweater even more. it was fine for now. seeing jimin in the flesh. but maybe you were so jet lagged that you hadn’t made sense of the situation yet.

the only sensible thing to do for now, was to let yourself escape into dreamland and wait for the morning after.

you can only anticipate it would be full of awkward silence, tension-filled gazes, hesitant actions.

it’s difficult to fall asleep. you decide to blame your insomnia on the nap you had during the flight. even when you know it’s because of the deeply asleep body, separated by a thin wall.

you’re sitting upright, staring at the unveiled moon. it’s stunning, not like the sun which literally glares. the moon is calming, easing you into the next day, all while making you feel… loneliness.

how could you feel lonely even with so many people around you?

(“do you think soulmates exist?” you had asked, curious of jimin’s take on such tales.

the girl seems taken aback, but she ultimately replies, “if they do, i think you’re mine.”)

you clench the duvet in your fists tightly, mind grasping at any other thought than of yu jimin. it’s unfortunate that you seem to enjoy the pain and torture past memories bring with how often your brain wanders through them.

maybe it’s time to come clean with yourself.

you were back in your hometown. you were staying in the same apartment as you did before you left. one that you shared with yu jimin; one that you called home.

eyes starting to become watery, you wipe them off and take a seat at your desk. if you were going to stay awake the rest of the night, might as well get work done. pulling out your sketchbook, the first page to be opened is the drawing of jimin from the flight. the realisation slaps you.

how long would it take someone to get over the love of their life?

for you, maybe eternity.

the door creaks open slightly. your head turns sharply, hand instinctively covering the drawing.

“y/n…?”

“jimin,” you inhale, “why are you still awake?”

she doesn’t bother to answer you and instead chooses to sit on your bed. once you notice the pyjamas she’s wearing, you feel daggers stab into your heart. it’s one of your many matching pyjamas with her. you hadn’t touched any of them since you left korea.

“are you dating aeri?” she asks.

you know what she’s secretly trying to ask.

“no, she’s just a friend.”

“that’s what they always say,” jimin scoffs. her tone doesn’t sit right with you.

with a sudden urge to defend your friendship with aeri, you shoot back, “i recall you saying that about lee jeno too.”

your words clearly strike a chord in jimin, her eyes widen, hurtful remarks at the tip of her tongue. yet, she merely looks away. you hate how beautiful she looks in the moonlight.

“y’know, technically we’re still dating.”

“what are you talking about?” you ask, bewildered.

jimin rolls her eyes, “we never explicitly broke up, you only ghosted me. technically we’re still together.”

“stop spouting nonsense.”

the girl only pouts in annoyance. you hate how your heartstrings tug at her cute expression. right now, yu jimin had to be anything but cute.

“and i didn’t ghost you, i was busy.” the lie slips out easily, revealing how used you are to saying it. jimin, of course, doesn’t believe you. she had never.

jimin frowns.

“you always say that too.”

she stands up, walking bit by bit closer to you. your hand grips the sketchbook protectively.

placing a hand onto the back of your chair, jimin smirks, leaning in. you hate how attractive she looks.

her now blonde locks form a curtain around your faces, preventing any outsider to peek in and see what you were doing.

“i think you’re a bad friend,” jimin claims.

“what?”

you can’t take your eyes off her fluttering eyelashes, her red nose, probably from the cold, and her eyes filled with determination.

“you lied to aeri,” she whispers, “since when were we ever just friends?”

a lump forms in your throat. your heart constricts. you can barely even say a word. you’re speechless.

“we’re barely even friends, roommates, probably,” you splutter out.

“yeah?”

“yeah.” jimin eyes you with an amused expression, lips twitching with the threat of a big, wide smile. you realise your words bid you no help, only further supplying as a challenge for jimin— for you to admit that you were more than friends. no words needed to be exchanged about that fact, but you being you, after fulfilling years of ghosting, would never admit that you harboured any sort of feelings for jimin after being the main reason why your relationship fell apart.

you would argue that your absence was just a contributing factor. the real trigger came in the form of lee jeno, a man that you could say with your whole heart and soul, you hated with every bone in your body.

after you had left, with a promise to stay in contact with jimin, you realised how hard it was to maintain your relationship status. and when jimin posted countless instagram stories of jeno, you realised again that maybe it was best to break it off.

never in the duration of your ‘ghosting stage’ had you ever told jimin the real reason for your sudden coldness. madly jealous and insecure, you decided to disappear. disappear just from jimin though.

“i’ve always been curious,” jimin pulls back from your intense gaze, “why you started being so distant, cold and indifferent. tell me, will you?”

“that’s just my personality.” a direct white lie, you decide to tell.

“i was heartbroken,” she ignores you and continues her monolouge, “my girlfriend decides to ghost me, and just me. made me think i did something wrong.”

you lick your lips, suddenly feeling your throat constrict up. no longer was this just banter, the conversation was steering into uncharted territory.

“it wasn’t just you,” you desperately argue, trying to direct the conversation away, “moving to another country isn’t easy.”

“you’re pretending our whole relationship didn’t exist. maybe in your eyes it meant nothing, but for me, it was everything. don’t you know every single day i have nightmares? the craziest thing is that all the demons in my nightmares have your smile,” jimin whispers fiercely, “and yet, i stay faithful to those nightmares, even if i wake up crying for someone who didn’t even bother answering my calls. you may have only been in the states, but it felt like you were on another planet. i was the last person to know you were coming back, even though you promised me; promised that if you were to return, i would be the first person to—”

you can’t control yourself. hearing her words makes your blood boil. the pumping of your heart only accelerates further as you lift up your hand, delivering a heavy slap across her face. how dare she? how dare she act as if everything was your fault? how could she accuse your devotion and adoration for her?

“don’t act like you’re the fucking victim, karina,” you hiss, your words even more painful than the stinging red on jimin’s cheek, “the first morning after, i sent you so many texts, barely even seen. then i see your story. were you acting when you said you were sad about me leaving? or were you happy to finally say that you don’t have a girlfriend anymore?”

jimin cradles her cheek in her hand, eyes narrowing when you finally confess the real reason. you can tell she doesn’t remember anything. her not even knowing what she did that made you feel unneeded only drives the blade deeper into your heart.

“drinking at a club with lee jeno,” you say his name with venom, voice gradually getting louder and louder. remembering that aeri’s only a few walls away, you try to control your emotions. “could you not understand how i felt— you said nothing would come between us and the first week away from home, constantly ignoring me for some guy.”

(“call me when your plane lands,” jimin said, playing with the hem of her sweater on you.

“isn’t it gonna be midnight in korea when i land?”

the girl merely chuckles, “i’ll be up all night just to hear your voice.”)

the realisation strikes you like a lightning bolt.

“this was a mistake.”

“what?”

“this… me coming back. i should have just stayed in the states but fuck, i let aeri convince me,” you run your fingers through your tousled hair, stressed. jimin was going to cause you to have white hair.

the redness on jimin’s cheek is still there. you feel slightly guilty for ruining her clear complexion.

“that was just how i coped with you leaving,” jimin explains.

you purse your lips, placing your open palms on jimin’s chest. maybe she thinks you’re about to cave in since she sighs in relief. however, instead of pulling her in, you push her until her back is touching your door.

“i don’t need an explanation, or an apology,” you say firmly, “i need time alone away from you.”

“you’ve had 4 years to yourself,” jimin states bitterly.

“i’m sorry for slapping you, but please, either show me your actions matching your words, or just get out of my life for good.”

jimin sighs again, this one full of exasperation.

“go,” you mutter under your breath.

the knife drives deep into your already ruined heart as you push her away. the girl scoffs, grasping your open palms into her hands, intertwining your fingers.

“if you insist on pushing me away, i’ll get rid of any possibility of us being together again. just let me into your heart again,” she throws your hands away and slams the door. the loud bang echoes in your ears, but not as loudly as her words. it only takes a few seconds for you to collapse onto the floor, sobs wrecking your whole body.

“morning,” aeri yawns, “i heard a loud bang last night, was that you or is your apartment haunted?”

you drizzle maple syrup onto your stacked pancakes, sending a bittersweet smile to your friend. your night was spent tossing and turning, both guilt and anger consuming you. when the clock ticked at four in the morning, you finally let yourself think about how jimin made you feel. even if she went to drink right after you left, you should have communicated with her instead of ghosting her. you knew for a fact that she was heartbroken based on the numerous texts your friends had sent you.

fuck, you groan into your pillow. getting up from your bed, your eyes roam the room, eventually landing on the sketchbook at your desk. you never finished that drawing on the plane. after considering (or more likely procrastination), you sit down, pouring your hours and feelings into your drawings. countless of them filled up the sketchbook’s pages. the drawings’ subjects all looked eerily similar to jimin. her pointed nose, soft gaze were all captured in the pages. you finally come to terms with it. you were still in love with her. after all, she was your only muse. thinking about her words from before, you knew that she meant them. spending years waiting for someone who was basically a ghost couldn’t have been easy.

you were going to do something about it.

barely getting any sleep last night, you woke up earlier than usual and decided to prepare breakfast. aeri had woken up an hour after, stomach growling and eyes gleaming at the pancakes.

“by the way,” she says, mouth full of pancake, “i’m meeting up with a friend today and she’s bringing someone too. wanna go with me on a double date?”

fate must be messing with you since right as aeri says the words ‘double date’, yu jimin walks in. her hair tousled, puffed cheeks and eyes narrowing. you stiffen, focusing on picking at your pancakes instead. unbeknownst to you, once jimin spots the lone plate of breakfast on the counter, her gaze softens.

“do you know who your friend’s bringing…?” you whisper softly, trying not to catch the attention of jimin.

aeri, although you love her, says in the loudest voice possible, “somi will be your date! i think she’s your type.”

the scraping of the metal fork makes you squeeze your eyes shut, mentally preparing for jimin’s outburst.

“so-mi,” jimin clicks her tongue.

aeri nods, stuffing her face with more food.

she turns to you, “and you’re going on a date with her?”

“double date with me,” aeri clarifies, “don’t worry jimin-ssi, i’ll be there to protect y/n! y’know in college i always had to pick y/n up from her bad dates. her taste in guys suck.”

“seems like her taste in girls has been downgraded,” jimin comments, smirking. you roll your eyes, wanting nothing more than for her to shut up. aeri guffaws, taking out her phone. “i’ll show you somi’s instagram account and you can decide for yourself, y/n,” she says.

you nod, deciding not to say anything in case jimin flares up. somi’s very pretty, anyone would agree. she had her own attractive style and seemed really confident. you liked that. aeri wasn’t wrong to say that somi was your type. it was just unfortunate that your heart was in the hands of another girl.

while scrolling on aeri’s phone, her alarm rings, reading, ‘brunch with yunny.’

“ah! yunjin wanted to meet earlier, just the two of us,” aeri smiles, “text me later if you wanna join!” she stands up from the table. you’re astonished by how fast she managed to finish those pancakes, her stack was evidently taller than yours. jimin glances at you, amazed as well.

“did she inhale those…?”

“i’ve got no fucking clue,” you mumble, digging into your own. jimin only chuckles and you hate how it makes your heart clench up in affection.

the silence is deafening. without aeri, the air thickens with tension between you and jimin, filled with nostalgia and regret. it feels just like last time— you and jimin eating breakfast together at that very same table, giggling about whatever trouble your friends got into the previous day.

“hey, about yesterday—”

“it’s fine,” you interrupt, “is your cheek okay?”

jimin swallows hard, “yes, it doesn’t hurt at all.”

“don’t lie, come here,” you instruct, “i’ve known you for so long, you can’t lie to me.”

she just laughs, showing you the slightly bruised side of her face. you feel guilt wreck you. no matter how angry you were, you shouldn’t have laid a hand on her.

“did you ice it?”

jimin shakes her head. you sigh, getting up and taking an ice pack out of the freezer. it’s too easy for you to return to past habits, moving around the kitchen like it was 2018 and jimin was the love of your life (she still is). wrapping the ice pack in a towel, you inch closer to jimin, holding it to her cheek. she winces slightly and you resist the urge to hold her hand in comfort.

“y/n…”

“hm?”

the girl seems so small now— her posture deflated, eyes barely meeting yours, biting her lip nervously. you have a feeling you know what she’s about to ask.

“are you going on that date with soyoung?” you laugh loudly, catching jimin off guard.

“jimin, her name’s somi.”

pouting, jimin turns away from you, making your hand falter. “hey, i need to ice your face.”

“i won’t let you unless you answer my question.” she’s so childish it’s adorable. the tension has gone, now filled with uncertainty instead.

“i don’t have anyone to spend the afternoon with. minjeong and yizhuo are busy today,” you explain.

“you have me,” she mutters.

ignoring her, you answer, “aeri seemed really excited for us to meet.”

“you spent all your time in the states with her, you should spend time with your friends here,” jimin retorts.

her hesitance to even admit she wants to spend time with you makes you want to tease her.

“oh? you’re right,” jimin perks up like a puppy. cute, you think. “i should text yujin if she wants to go out, remember her? she was our student council president.”

rolling her eyes, jimin swats at your hand nursing her bruise. it’s too easy for you to return to past habits, bantering with jimin like she was the only girl you’ve ever loved (she was).

it’s too easy. between the choice of going out with aeri to meet someone new and staying in with jimin. it’s such an easy choice to make.

you bring the ice pack away from her face, choosing to caress her cheek lovingly instead. she sighs, content, leaning into your touch.

“jimin,” you gulp, “i’m sorry for these past few years.”

her eyes gaze up at you, “it’s okay. i’ve come to terms with it. i honestly wasn’t expecting you to come back.”

“i wasn’t planning to either, but aeri wanted to.”

“good thing she convinced you, huh?” jimin smiles, “at least i know i was the reason for our break up.”

“it’s only a relationship if there are two people,” you say, “it was my fault too.”

her eyes momentarily flicker to your lips, it doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“i know these years haven’t been easy on both of us, but if you’re willing to, i think i’m okay with giving us a second chance,” you confess, “even if you hurt me again, i still want you. i just want you. you’ve always been the only one in here.” you point at your heart.

jimin’s eyes shoot straight up, finally breaking into a wide smile, “seriously? even after what i said last night? i’m not complaining but like… you were pretty angry. i just wanted to know why you ghosted me and i agree, i deserved it. but why the sudden change?”

“i mean,” you shrug, “it was what you said that made me think about this. i didn’t want you to stop loving me, because i’ve never stopped loving you.”

“you love me?”

“i love you.”

“this is so crazy, you went from slapping me to…” she trails off, grasping your chin and bringing you into a kiss. her lips were so, so, soft. you wondered why you even let her go. once your lips met, you felt her sigh before smiling into your mouth. catching your breath, you run your fingers through her blonde hair.

“still going on that date with suki?”

“jimin, you know her name’s somi.”

“whatever, i love you too.”

[straykeedz]

day 12: hyunjin + marking

©straykeedz

tw: mention of masturbation (m); oral sex (f receiving); fingering (f receiving); hints at cheating (reader); unprotected piv sex (don't do this at home 🤨); ♡

wc: 2,1k;

not too kinky lol sorry - but honestly as i was writing this i came up with an idea for a future fic 👀

this is part of my kinktober masterlist. you can find my regular masterlist here (tho it will not be updated until the end of kinktober) ♡

🔖 (open): @linos-kitten ; @luneskies ; @kxcies-blog ; @idunnomanmynamewastaken ; @cessixja ; @stolasisyourparent ; @kookiesbunny ; @xoxo-xoxo-bunny ; @ivyskzsworld ; @mal-lunar-28 ; @leetaste ; @sunnykynnie ; @channiesgoodgirl ; @seonghwatoothless ; @mrsminho ; @seungminluv3 ; @jin-from-the-block ; @aaasia111 ; @sulkygyu ; @whosanaanyway ; @y-ur--I ; @vixensss ; @nightimescapes ; @freckleboilix ; @dreamingaboutjisung ; @yourbeomiebear ; ♡

to make sure i add you to the taglist, your age must be clearly visible on your profile. also, empty blogs will not be added - add at least a profile picture to your blog so that i’ll know you’re not a bot. ♡

smut below the cut, minors dni.

✐

Hyunjin liked to think of the human body as a canvas. 

A big, blank canvas ready to be used, decorated, customized, adorned in every way possible. Personally, he loved to decorate his in a less drastic and permanent way than with tattoos or piercings - even though he found it extremely attractive and badass on others. He loved to personalize his body using all kinds of jewelry - necklaces, chains, rings, bracelets, sometimes chokers. Then, he loved to put makeup on - just a plain dark brown eye-shadow on his lid, messily blended with a black eye-pencil using the pads of his fingers to give his look a smudge effect; finally, he loved to paint his nails, usually opting for a dark brown or a pitch black color. 

However, since he met you, he found out he also liked another type of decoration on his skin - the signs you’d leave on his back with your nails when he’d fuck you. 

He discovered it casually.

It happened one day when he was looking at his naked figure through the mirror right before taking a hot shower - and he saw them. Faint pink on his chest and abdomen, bright red on his shoulders and back. Irregular shapes drawn by your fingernails on his skin while you were under him - although the ones on his spine vaguely resembled of a heart in his eyes, but he might’ve been biased. He got hard once again when he noticed the marks, and had to relieve himself in the shower, imagining your fingers on his skin once again.

Memories of what had happened moments before underneath his sheets, when you begged him to fuck you harder, to don’t stop, to keep thrusting like that kept running through his head, and he found himself getting hard once again, despite the two orgasms he’d had between your legs. 

To him, it was like having proof, directly on his skin, therefore clearly visible - that what you had was true, and not just a projection of his own imagination. It was real - you had been under him, him all over you, inside of you, your nails on the skin of his back, scratching it as he thrusted relentlessly, body pressed tightly against yours. 

Then, as soon as you both finished, it was all gone. You were gone. 

That’s all he was left with - an empty bed and a few marks on his pale skin. 

But the marks on his skin made everything real even though you weren’t there with him, and from that moment on, he never wanted them to fade away. The next time you fucked, he practically begged you to scratch his back with your nails - begged you to do it hard. 

You thought it was because he liked pain during sex when really - all he wanted was for them to last longer on his skin. 

Right now, he was giving you oral. Kissing your pussy with passionate reverence, dragging his plump lips all over the surface of your cunt, brushing you skin so delicately it made you shiver, nose bumping sweetly on your sensitive clit each time. And then he licked your lips, those lips, placing his tongue flat on you before he started lapping at it before closing his lips around your clit. 

Hyunjin was good at many things, but never the best at anything - that’s how he felt about himself. However, he firmly believed his oral giving skills were pretty much incomparable, not to brag - and he was confident you’d never find anyone else who’d appreciate your pussy more than him. And it wasn’t really because he loved pussy - which he did -, it was more because he was crazy about you and he had no other way to show you except for sex. 

Hyunjin kept sucking on your clit as he brought his fingers to your pussy, ready to slip two of them inside of you, and as his digits slowly made their way inside of you, your fingernails ended up on his shoulder, making him whimper. 

“Hyunjin…”, your nails felt like claws on his skin, and he was sure you were going to leave marks on his shoulders, and he couldn’t wait to see them reflected on his bathroom mirror, see which irregular, abstract shapes you’d drawn on his body this time. 

Maybe it was the artistic side of his personality that made him do it - but he’d snap a couple of pictures of the signs you’d leave on his body every time, and kept them in a secret folder on his phone.

He sucked harder on your clit, swirling his hot, wet tongue around it as he moved his fingers inside of you just how he knew you liked it. With his other hand, with which he was making sure your legs’d stay spread out for him, he parted your labia, exposing your clit even more to make sure he’d reach every single spot with his tongue. 

“I’m so close, Hyunjin.”, you moaned, moving your hand from his shoulder to his hair, running your fingers through it.  

It took him a few more sucks on your sensitive spot to make you reach your high, his name falling from your lips like a prayer as you clenched around his fingers, toes curling as you tugged at his hair. He took his time with cleaning you up, licking your orgasm off of your skin, swallowing it and humming at the taste - he could never get enough of it. 

Then, something inside of his head snapped. He moved his lips from your pussy to your groin, not wanting to overstimulate you and wanting you to give you the time to come off from your high properly, and placed a delicate, wet kiss on the soft flesh. Then, he sucked and added his teeth to the mix. 

He wanted to give you something to remember him from, too. He knew he could never do something like that on any other part of your body, knowing you’d get in trouble if anyone noticed the signs on your skin, so he had no other choice than to leave them there.

“Hyunjin, what are you-“, you stopped yourself mid-sentence before realizing what he had in mind. “Hyunjin, you can’t.”

He detached his mouth from your skin, then looked at you through his eyelids - eyes absolutely dark with lust and pussy drunk. “Just a couple.”, he pleaded, leaving a chaste kiss on the faint mark that had appeared on your skin. A shiver ran through his body at the sight. “They’re easier to hide here.”, he caressed your inner thigh with his knuckles. 

“But what if he…”, you didn’t finish the sentence, but he knew what you meant to say anyway. 

The thought pained Hyunjin, but he knew he couldn’t really say anything. He nodded, chest heavy, but he knew he had to respect your decision. He wanted to think you were his and only his, that no other people were involved, and that what you had was real and went beyond pure sexual satisfaction, but he couldn’t. You could - leave marks on his body, in any place you wanted, scratch him, bite him, anything you wanted. He couldn’t. 

“Maybe just… a couple.”, you whispered after a few instants, twisting one lock of his hair around your finger. 

His head snapped in your direction, and he looked absolutely caught off-guard. “Are you sure?”, he wanted to make sure you wanted it too and weren’t just agreeing on this because you felt pressured. 

“Mh-hm.”, you hummed, nodding. “Just- don’t bite too hard. They’ll be easier to cover.”, you explained. 

He nodded, and then his lips were on you once again. Lips brushing softly against you, before he latched his mouth on the soft flesh. He sucked lightly, not using his teeth yet, only his tongue to wet your skin to ease the friction. He hummed against your skin when his teeth gently scraped your skin, not properly biting your flesh - just like you asked him, but it was enough to make you moan. He pulled away to look at the work of art he’d left on your skin - the mark was much more visible now, but nothing that a good concealer and some powder wouldn’t hide. He really wished you wouldn’t, tho. If it were for him, if you were his, he’d mark you all over your skin and wouldn’t even want you to hide them. In fact, he’d make you show them off proudly, so it’d be crystal clear to anyone that you were his.

“Mine.”, he grunted under his breath, the adjective slipping out of his mouth automatically, before he could stop himself as he latched his mouth on your groin once again, this time a bit higher. He hoped you hadn’t heard him. 

You had, but you didn’t say anything. 

Those hickeys looked insanely good on you, Hyunjin thought once he pulled away to admire the two marks on your skin. He wished he could leave more, but he was already grateful enough you’d let him leave those two. 

“They look good on you.”, he whispered, brushing them with his fingers, not tearing his eyes off of them. 

“Mh, they do.”, you agreed. You wrapped your fingers around his wrist, making him snap his head in your direction to look you in the eyes. “Maybe if you fuck me right, just how I like it, I’ll let you leave more next time.”, you whispered sensually, biting your lip. 

The thought make his cock twitch for two reasons. Firstly, because the eventuality of sucking another hickey on your skin was nearly enough to make him come untouched; secondly, because of the implication in what you’d said - that he’d get to be with you again, that he’d get to have you once more.

“I fuck you right every time, tho, don’t I?” Hyunjin chuckled, positioning himself between your legs, aligning the tip of his cock to your entrance as he pressed his body on yours. 

“You’re right, you do.”, you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in for a kiss. “You always fuck me so well.”, you whispered on his lips, and his cock throbbed once again. 

Slowly, he started to push inside, closing his eyes and parting his lips as he bottomed out. Then, once he made sure you’d adjusted to the feeling, he started to rock his hips to meet yours - slowly at first and then faster and faster. Panting, he hooked one arm under one of your legs, the new position allowing him to sink even deeper inside of you. 

Now it was your turn to latch your mouth on the skin of his neck. Even though you’d left plenty of marks on his back, this was new, but you could tell Hyunjin definitely liked it. You sucked on his skin, biting and licking his soft flesh for a few seconds before pulling away - the mark was much brighter than the ones he left on you. You bit your lip at the sight, and decided to leave another one, this time on his collarbone, as your hands found their way to his shoulders and back. 

Hyunjin let out an embarrassingly deep sound when he felt your nails on his skin, and snapped his hips faster, hitting the right spot every time. 

“Harder.”, he moaned when you scratched his back. He wanted those marks not to fade, he wanted them to stay on his skin for as long as possible, until he saw you again. He wanted something to remember, something to prove that it wasn’t just a fantasy. 

Each time you scratched his skin, practically sticking your nails in his flesh, he thrusted harder inside of you. 

“Hyunjin.”, you moaned, kicking your head back, exposing your neck and collarbone. Oh, how he wished he could suck a beautiful, red mark right there, for everyone to see… “Close.”

You came with a high pitched sound, and he followed you not too long after, with an animalistic grunt and your nails on his skin, releasing inside of you. 

That night, when he went to take a shower - he wasn’t imagining it. As he looked over his shoulder to see your marks on his skin, he couldn’t believe his eyes, and bit his lip at the sight, because this time there really was a heart on his skin. A big, deep red heart shape right in the middle of his spine, and he could clearly tell the trace of your nails. And then, the two hickeys on his neck. 

Hyunjin liked to think of his own body as a canvas, too - and he liked to think of you as the only artist allowed to draw on his skin using whichever tools you wanted, as the only person allowed to use his body it whichever you preferred.

✐

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[sarahs-secrets2]

what do you think phillip would be like with an s/o who’s a struggling (or successful) painter/artist? idk just a crazy idea I had (ngl it would be so cute if he got his s/o their own studio or sum 💀) love ur writing!

Whatever You Want ˋ♡ˊ

phillip graves x gn!reader (pet names, swearing)

this is very Home Depot husband-esque, hope you enjoy!! thank you sm!! :)

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

“You think I’d be any good at it?” He scratched the back of his head unsure. Since you were an artist, it was only natural he asked you for advice, your word was gospel to him. 

“Of course baby,” placing a kiss on his lips for reassurance. 

Phillip had always been good with his hands, in more ways than one. It's why you suggested he look into building, and woodworking while he was on his break. 

Ever since you said that Phillip Graves had been in and out of the local hardware store nonstop. Luckily he had some time off due to his most recent stint of not being in the tank. The first couple of weeks you thought maybe he would drop it soon, move on to a new hobby. Little did you know what Phillip’s plans really were. 

You were sitting staring at a basically blank canvas. The only thing somewhat visible were faint sketch marks that you had tried to erase one too many times. In the background there was a faint sound of a screwdriver, Phillip had taken over the spare room for the past month. His newfound hobby had become much more serious. Of course, you didn't mind as long as he wasn't making too much of a mess. 

“Fuck,” mumbling under your breath, your brand-new set of pencils had just vanished. Not even 20 minutes ago they were on the kitchen table where you were working, and now… gone. “Honey!” you called out hoping you were loud enough he could hear. 

“Hm?” Graves stuck his head out from the door, pushing the clear safety goggles onto the top of his head. “You need me?”

“Do you know where my pencils went?”

He smirked, not answering right away. “Maybe…” his voice trailed, eyes darting back into the spare room. “Give me a few more minutes,” and just like that, the door slammed shut and the sound of the screwdriver returned. 

5 minutes later, Phillip stepped out of the room, making sure to close the door behind him. “You ready?” 

Hesitantly, you got up and followed him into the room. Almost immediately you froze taking in the new appearance of the room. Saying it was a dream come true was an understatement. An entire furnished art studio had now taken up residency in your spare room. 

“You did this?” you gestured to the brand-new studio in shock. Phillip smiled whilst stuffing his hands in his back pockets, obviously very proud of his work. The shelves were filled with your artwork from previous years that Phillip had saved. Against one of the walls, the perfect-sized desk sat already loaded with supplies (and your previously “lost pencils”). “For me?” 

“Of course,” his smile was warm as he stepped closer, “I’d build you whatever you want darlin’,” his eyes glued to yours, hands dragging slowly up and down your arms. You knew he meant it, he had always been your biggest supporter. 

“Thank you baby, this is…” your arms wrapped around his neck drawing him in. “This is everything, thank you,” 

He whispered, leaning in for a kiss, “Anythin’ for you doll,”

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

i didn't proof read bc im sleepy!! ill do it in the morning!!

graves masterlist!!

[101flavoursofweird]

Emerald Trio Week: Day 2 - Inspiration

Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Watching and Dreaming regarding Hunter’s new…talent.

Set: After Watching and Dreaming. Hunter is attending Hexside with the others.

Warnings: A reference to the Titanic movie is made… Gus doubts his artistic skills… Contains more Huntlow and Gustholomule— glad I can tag them now!

Note: Again, thanks to @loosescrewslefty for the prompts.

Resting on his stomach above his bedroom rug, Gus squinted at the sketchpad in front him. He gnawed on the end of his pencil like a hungry echo mouse.

Legend had it that human pencils used to contain lead , which was poisonous for humans—

Stop getting distracted!

Gus shook his head and returned to the issue at hand: Matt’s birthday— tomorrow.

Gus could have (should have) gone out and purchased Matt a gift, but, never one to pass up a challenge, Gus had decided to create something instead.

Illusions were too easy. Matt had received plenty of illusions from Gus, and by this point, Matt was proficient at casting his own illusions.

Matt would be expecting something better from Gus. Something Gus had worked hard on. A challenge!

So, Gus had decided to take a page of out of Matt’s book. Gus was going to draw him a picture…

It sounded childish when Gus put it like that. No— he was going to produce a portrait. Paint the canvas. Compose an artistic masterpiece!

…As soon as he could figure out what to draw.

Think, Augustus, think…

No thoughts manifested. His brain was completely empty.

“Uuuuuugh!” Gus groaned and dropped his pencil. “Guys, what should I draw for Matt?”

So engrossed was he in his art that he’d almost forgotten Willow and Hunter were there with him.

They had come over an hour ago to start work on a project for History class, which only Hunter was still invested in now.

“Not sure…” Hunter replied without looking up from his books on Gus’s desk.

Willow made an ‘ I dunno’ noise from Gus’s bed, where she was watching a professional flyer derby match on her scroll.

“Thanks, you two!” Gus said flatly. “Such helpful, reliable friends I have—“ Willow tossed a pillow in his direction.

Gus gasped and moved his sketchpad aside. “Willow! You’re gonna wreck my canvas!” He chucked the pillow right back at her.

“Ha!” Willow caught the pillow. She placed the pillow at the end of his bed and planted her elbows on it.

“You can draw me!” she suggested with a smirk. She held her chin in her hand. “Draw me like one of your French girls!”

That made Hunter’s head turn. Willow pursed her lips at him.

“Ew! No!” Gus protested, poking his tongue out. (Why had he insisted on watching Titanic with them in the Human Realm? He’d thought it was a documentary…! ) “You two can just leave if you’re going to be all lovey-dovey!”

“Very well…” Willow sniffed loudly. She rolled to the left side of the bed and slowly slipped off. “But I promise I will… never… let go—“

Hunter snorted. When Willow’s hand sank weakly out of view, Gus wheezed with laughter too. Hunter joined him, clutching his sides as he rocked back in Gus’s chair. Willow popped up from behind the bed, chortling.

“This really… isn’t funny!” Gus gasped, after a minute. “The Titanic sinking was a real disaster in human history—“

“Kind of like our History project?” Hunter hummed.

“—and so is this!” Gus thrust a hand at his blank sketchbook. “How am I going to impress Matt? How?!”

“Why don’t you draw a beach?” Willow supplied, actually being helpful this time.

“Not a beach in the Boiling Isles… ” Hunter mumbled. Gus glanced at him. Hunter glanced away, rubbing his lip.

Willow said, “Maybe a beach from the Human Realm would be better?”

“Yeah…” Gus agreed. “ Yeah—  that could work!”

One sunny day during their stay in the Human Realm, Camila had driven them all to a beach, where the sand was soft and the sea didn’t boil. They could actually swim in the water, without fear of burning…

Witches still had to wear sunblock. (Amity, especially…) But it was definitely worth it for that beautiful sunset.

Gus pictured it in his mind— the sand, the sea, the sunset— and he projected it as an illusion the size of a crystal ball.

“It was great,” Hunter said, smiling at the memory.

“Who needs photos,” Willow quipped, “when we’ve got Gus’ power?”

Gus grinned, grabbed his pencil and his sketchpad, and started to draw the scene. It was much easier when he had the memory in front of him.

The beach had been bustling and bright with colour: The sapphire waves, the golden sand, the pink and purple sky…

Gus had the outlines of the beach, but it was bland and grey with pencil.

Gus frowned. Should he try shading? He gently rubbed a pencil mark with his fingertip and winced at the mess he made. “I need colours— right now!”

“Paints or crayons?” Willow asked, shooting to her feet

Paints would be too messy… “Crayons!”

“You’re a witch,” Hunter reminded Gus. “Why don’t you just—? ”

“‘’S’cuse me!” Willow shoved past Hunter to reach the desk. She pulled a pack of colouring crayons out of a blue pencil pot, and passed them to Gus. “Here you go!”

“Thanks…”

Gus coloured in the lines he’d drawn, but when he was finished, it still looked… wrong. The crayons were too waxy, too artificial, and they didn’t blend together.

A baby could have done better than this!

“I’ve ruined it!” Gus moaned. His illusion-bubble popped. He threw his sketchbook away and flopped facedown on the rug.

“No, you haven’t!” Willow went to pick up his sketchbook

Still on the rug, Gus turned his head to Willow as she crouched beside him. She held the picture up to him, hoping he would see it in a different light.

“See? It’s fine, way better than my doodles—“

“Fine isn’t good enough,” Gus huffed.

Hunter said, “Why not?”

Rubbing his wrist, Gus sat up. “Because… Matt’s a really, really good artist. I just wanted to draw him something— something I put a lot of effort into…!”

“You did put a lot of effort in, Gus,” Willow assured him. “Of course Matt will see that, but if anyone doesn’t, who cares?”

“You can’t please everyone,” Hunter muttered, sympathetically. Willow offered him a reassuring smile.

Gus looked between the two of them. He took the sketchbook back from Willow, staring at his picture .

“But,” Hunter added, with surprising optimism, “do you know what would jazz it up even more…?” He stood up and pulled a small carving knife out of his apron pocket.

“A… palisman?” Gus guessed. “But Matt already has…”

Gus trailed off as Willow made a rectangle with her thumbs and index fingers. Closing one eye, Willow moved the rectangle over to Gus, as if she was snapping a photo of him.

“Oh!” Gus gasped.

-

Matt ripped the wrapping paper off the box. “You got me… a hunk of wood?”

“No !” Gus sighed. Carefully, Gus removed the hand-carved panel of wood and flipped it over, revealing his picture inside the frame.

Matt’s eyes widened. “Wait— you made this?”

Gus wasn’t sure if Matt was referring to the picture of the beach or the frame or both, but he nodded shyly.

Matt snatched the gift off him. For a horrible second, Gus thought Matt was going to throw the framed picture away, but then, Matt held it up for all of his party guests to see.

“Everyone— look at this! Look at THIS! The first of many masterpieces from Augustus Porter! And it’s all MINE…!”

Gus blushed and beamed at Matt’s adulation.

He glanced back at Willow and Hunter, who were both watching behind him. Willow gave him a thumbs-up. Though Hunter looked a little tired, he was smiling.

Gus mouthed, “Thank you—“ but he was cut off as Matt caught him in a one-armed hug.

-

Hunter smiled at Gus and Mattholomule.

He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night— between woodcarving and their history project— but it was worth it to see Gus and his friend/rival/crush(?) so happy together.

Rubbing his eyes, Hunter wondered how much longer he would have to stay at the party…

Mattholomule wouldn’t mind if Hunter left, would he? He and Hunter weren’t really close (Hunter was more familiar with Matt’s brother, Steve), and Hunter didn’t have a present with him…

An arm wrapped around Hunter’s shoulder. Willow pulled him down so her mouth was level with his burning ear.

“You can take credit for the frame,” she whispered. “Gus won’t mind…”

“Nah…” Hunter chuckled. “I’ll let him have this one—“

“That’s sweet of you…” Willow hummed hopefully. “Could you make me a photo frame— when it’s my birthday?”

“S-sure…”

To make sure it was absolutely perfect he’d have to start preparations immediately— finding the right wood, marking the measurements…

Willow pecked him on the cheek, interrupting Hunter’s plans.

“Thanks, Hunter.”

[februarysprada]

The Artist and Her Muse.

I write about everyone. The writer is in my blood. I can’t help it.   It’s like being an artist. Painting on a blank canvas  To readily showcase at a museum to your audience.   And vividly critique it. But instead, this is a lined piece of paper.   A pencil. A dictionary. The internet. A book to read. As many times as erasing. Mixed with truer words. It’s being awake every waking hour of the day.   After, trying to finish up an assignment. In front of my computer brightened on my bed. Where I anonymously post my craft on the web. Because I know I’ll never be alone in this. Everyone in my life.   I make sure I get each and every one of them.   Because once, they leave. They’re not always gone. Living in nouns, verbs, and adjectives. Formulated into a paragraph. Sentences. Verses. Stanzas. Sonnets.   Plots. In books, pages, novellas, love letters, storylines. They get written into a project that can either be long or short. Doesn’t matter because either way, they’re still important to me. They’re going to be a part of my past, my history  My life. Part of all the art world’s glory. They may not be mine. But they’re for the people to get to know and see.  

[theravenclawlover]

Hi hi! I don't know if you're still doing the June challenge but may I request for fluffy bf headcanon for Newt with a Muggle artist s/o? I love him so so much, and just came back to the Wizarding world thanks to him ;_;

Yes! I’m still doing it! Up to the 28th of this month I’ll be taking those requests. I still have no idea what to do for next month lol

Anyways, this idea is so cute 🥹

Newt Scamander x GN!Muggle!Reader

Okay so it is a total accidental meeting. Newt had been walking down the street one early morning that the sun had barely begun to break through the horizon

And that was what interested you

You were at the park where the most beautiful sky was starting to show

And you wanted to capture it so bad

And you had gone and set up everything to make sure you could

So newt had been surprised to see you there

An easel and blank canvas starting to be filled by your brush strokes.

Newt rarely caught himself distracted for anything other than a creature

But you doing such task had

A Muggle artist had stopped him dead in his tracks to watch you in you natural habitat

And it was beautiful…the sky too

You were so concentrated, totally lost and captivated by the mesh of beautiful colors in the sky

But Newt was watching how your brows furrowed in concentration, your mouth slightly pressed into a thin smile as you resisted the urge to stick out your tongue

Newt and you were so distracted that neither noticed when Pickett had decided to peer out of his hiding spot.

He had left it too. And now he was on your palette, comparing the sky with your half done painting

And it’s little squeaks broke you from your trance

Your eyes widen

« Oh hello » you said softly. The little green stick moved and began to…nod?

“You like it?” You whispered. Half of you thought you crazy but the other half was fascinated

It nodded its little head

That broke newt out of his trance

“Oh dear,” he said before approaching you both. “Pickett.”

You and the little thing looked at him with wide eyes

If you had found the creature fascinating, the man in front of you had no words

And neither did he when you looked at you

That had been a weird day for you. But you didn’t complain much as now you lived with such beautiful man

And your canvases, sketch books, and any other blank paper was filled with drawing and paintings of him and his magical creatures.

He had fessed up by the second meeting bc you wouldn’t stop asking

Not that he had minded much because u were in love with Pickett and was drawing him at every chance you got

Napkins were always subjects to it. You never left the house without a pencil or a marker

But he loved that about you. He loved that you had magic too and that was your art.

[lluiscarrasco]

MUSE / izara

MUSE :  for one muse to model for the other’s art project.

It wasn't exactly an art project, in the traditional sense of the words. It was an art project, popularized by the god of the internet — Tiktok. Luis had bought them both an average size blank canvas and a couple of packs of colorful pencils and he had now turned a small area of his apartment into their work space.

"You're not supposed to move, Iz — " he protested. "Shit — I messed up your eyebrow" They were sat down across from each other, and had attempted to draw the other, under ten minutes. It was obvious, that all artistic talent in his family had gone to his baby brother. "Are you ready? Dude — " a series of chuckles erupted from his throat. One of her eyes had turned out smaller than the other; so much smaller, and her mouth was kinda lopsided, like she's had a stroke. " — I'm so sorry you have to see this. I'm buying you shots after this."

[mysticalunknownflower]

Art: The Simple Life, Tanka Tuesday, Festival of leaves challenge

My painting, ‘The Simple Life’ is a fishing village somewhere in Europe. My last few paintings have been done without pencil sketching i.e. I’ve applied the paint directly on the blank canvas and gone about painting the picture from a photograph. I especially enjoyed painting the boats. It’s something since I’ve wanted to paint since my trip to Norway, two months ago. Fishing boats lazily bobbing…

[yhwhsdaughter]

Horror of a Hundred Hands

art credit

prince! shigaraki x reader

content: main character death, angst, amputation, unrequited love, hand kink

“You have pretty hands.”

Blinking, there was a moment of silence where you wondered if you’d somehow misheard the prince.

“..Pardon?”

Shigaraki grunted, not wanting to repeat himself. It wouldn’t matter if you heard him or not. He stayed still as you finished posing him, staring blankly to the side. Sunlight kissed Shigaraki’s face, illuminating those features that he tried so hard to hide behind a curtain of grey hair.

His refusal to answer made your brow twitch. You had only approached the prince because he kept shifting, preventing you from capturing his essence onto the canvas.

Rumour had it that Prince Shigaraki possessed quite the temper so you refrained from making further inquiries unrelated to your job. Touching his limbs with the gentleness of a feather, you poised him like a doll, using your fingers to grasp his jaw and turning him towards your direction. Pink decorated his cheeks, though it was probably from the sun’s warmth.

Returning to the painting, you noticed he had gone back to facing the window. “Um..” you chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating how to approach this.

“What is it?”

It was now that he turned, eyes shining bright like rubies. “His Highness seems.. uncomfortable.” Shigaraki blanked, unimpressed by your commentary. “I have to pose like this for hours.”

“It’s not that…”

He was losing his patience and you could see this. “Could His Highness try relaxing a bit?” Even as he followed the suggestion, your smile strained, “His Highness needs to face me for this to be completed.”

Omitting a sigh, you choose to focus on the colors rather than the uncooperative royal. The plan was to finish this commission as soon as possible, though it seemed like you’d be staying a bit longer.

—

Years earlier, when the two of you were just students, Shigaraki first came across you during a physical altercation.

Your hand, met a classmate’s cheek with such force, that the collision resonated throughout the hall. Immediately, a crowd surrounded you two. Jeers drowned your subsequent words.

Later, Shigaraki heard you had defended a friend’s honor. He didn’t really care about that. What bothered him was the fact that he could not get the imagine of you slapping the classmate, out of his head.

A few days later, Shigaraki saw you in the academy’s courtyard, holding hands with someone, laughing at some joke they’d said. He paused for a moment, observing. Fingers were intertwined in a lazy manner. The prince was ashamed to admit that he held a fascination towards your hands.

He wondered many times what he would’ve done if he had been in your classmate’s position. Part of him would have been angry, but another part, would have let you slap him again.

From then on, Shigaraki would stare at your hands whenever he could. He memorized the way you held a pencil or brush, how your fingers would flex when you talked animatedly with a friend, or the way you’d use them to touch others—affectionately and aggressively.

He, of course, never had the courage to approach you. One, he was above your status. Two, he feared rejection. Surely it wasn’t normal to feel this obsessively over a person, much less their hands.

—

Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

Shigaraki amassed enemies, for they weren’t all in accordance with the way he dealt things. Crushing them beneath his feet wasn’t easy. Relentlessly, they battled.

Throughout the course of these events, not once did Shigaraki think about you, until he came across a familiar pair of hands.

They were unlike before. Instead of the softness and cleanliness, there was scars and filth covering them. Though drab in appearance, he recognized them first. In all fairness, war had taken its toll on you. Eyes which once shone with passion, were now dull. Lifeless, is the only way he could describe you.

You, the person Shigaraki favored, clutched a single hand as if your entire existence depended on it. Your tears dropped onto the soiled skin, cleaning it with your misery. Heartbreaking sobs erupted from your chest. Did that woe of yours belong to a lover, a friend, family?

The prince’s steps faltered, unwilling to tell you that the hand who you refused to let go, was no longer attached to a body. Dried blood covered your forearms and sleeves. Shigaraki felt his chest tightened, wanting nothing more than to pull you to him.

Walking away, he would realize, was his worst mistake when it came to you.

—

All that remained of your existence was a single hand.

It was difficult to decipher what’d happened, but word from witnesses revealed you’d been caught and punished for stealing out of hunger.

The amputation itself wasn’t what killed you. No, the infection did. Your body was tossed into a heap of people like yourself, who had tried to survived but ultimately failed. They were burned.

Ashes. You were nothing more than that.

Fury, grief, vengeance filled Shigaraki’s being to the brim. Never did they see such cruelty come from a king. His enemies, each of them, had their hands cut, their bodies burned in heaps just like you.

It was a homage.

His face, which had been obscured by his now-long hair, would never be seen without a decaying hand. No one said anything, for fear of suffering the same fate which had befallen many.

Shigaraki could swear he felt warmth radiate from your palm. It wasn’t smooth anymore but that didn’t matter. He finally had part of you, forever. This hand, which he loved, would adorn his face till he could no longer breath.

—

Years later, after the king’s passing, people would raid his home and find a large portrait of himself at the entrance, for all to see.

It hung atop the wall in all its glory.

What mattered not were the contents of the painting, but the hands which had so carefully handled each brush with perfection.

[kookieswan]

Yoongi's hands 😍

Nimble Hands

(Oho! I’m going to write something for my series called “First Love” ❤️ (TattooArtist!Yoongi)

You never tire of watching him work, not when he seems to enjoy it so much. Yoongi takes pride in what he does, a delicate craft that he’s been working on for years now. He’s a skilled tattooist, of that much you’re sure, considering his work is inked into your skin.

You watch has he draws, hand holding the pencil loosely as he sketches out forms. As he nibbles on his nails, flicks at his fingers indecisively when he’s unsure of his next move. That’s okay though, he finds his place again eventually.

You’ve seen Yoongi lay down the stencil against your own body countless times now, hands gentle but firm as he places his art over your skin. Of course, sometimes he might move it or readjust because he wants an excuse to touch you… but he’ll never tell.

Someone’s you even get to see him tattoo, any of the previous shakiness he may have had while sketching gone. His hands remain steady, flicking lines of black against your skin, his skin, others… His hands create magic so easily, turning a simple blank canvas into a beautiful piece of art.

Your favorite though is when your fresh tattoos are finally healed enough to touch. He runs nimble fingers over the design every time, slowly caressing your skin as he retraces every line he made. Yoon always smiles his gummy smile, eyes bright as he gazes up at you.

“My tattoos may be good, but they only looks so nice because they’re on the prettiest canvas…”

[jadequeen88]

Smart Girls Make Fast Learners

NSFW 18+ ONLY. MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

My contribution to the BNHarem’s monthly collab. The theme was SEx work. ⛓This piece is a first real deep dive into darker themes and was actually really, really exciting to write. 🖤 A massive thanks to my dear friend @libiraki​ for beta reading this.

TW: yandere behavior, toxic relationship, degradation, non-con, dub-con, degradation/praise kinks, mind break, oral (M and F receiving), over stim, loss of virginity, mentions of physical violence.

DISCLAIMER: I do not condone this type of relationship. This is a work of fiction and if this happens IRL please get out of the relationship!

There is a very specific type of dread that occurs when you discover that the person you built your world around has been lying to you. Tamaki Amajiki was experiencing this brand of betrayal for the first time in his twenty-one years on a rainy Tuesday in October in the dim lighting of your dorm room. His grip tightened around the open laptop as he stared at glimpses of flesh in the thumbnails of the many, many videos posted to the site. Previous live streams with thousands of views. He gulped down the bile in his throat as he scrolled through the videos. His shock and disgust morphed into a pure rage as he counted up the live streams that you’d had since first kissing him. 12. There had been twelve. Three times a week for the past four weeks. 

Those big doe eyes that looked into his eyes as you tentatively licked the tip of his cock for the first time… mere hours later they were rolling in the back of your head as you got off for strangers on the internet. He couldn’t take it. You were his first… everything… he knew that you hadn’t been innocent in your past. The way your tongue expertly wound around his when you first kissed him amongst your plush pillows and goose-down comforter reminded him of the fact. The low violet LED lighting of your bedroom made him feel like the two of you were in your own ethereal world. He could forgive you for not waiting for him as he’d waited for you. 

For the past four years, he kept to the shadows. He was there when the football player from freshman year cheated on you with one of your terrible friends (and when it happened the second, third, fourth time). He was there to binge your favorite shows with you (“*insert current guy you were fucking* just doesn’t get it, he’s not into it. I’m so glad I’ve got you to watch it with!”) He bit back the heartache that would wash over him when you’d pet him and coo over him… you didn’t see him as a man. He wanted to bend you over and prove he could fuck your brains out. He KNOWS he’d be perfect for you. But he never rejected the attention. He smiled and accepted whatever crumbs fell from your table. Whether it be helping you study or letting you complain about your shitty friends or your shitty jock boyfriends or your shitty parents… He gave and gave and gave… until that one day, 35 days ago to be exact, a shift in the tide occurred.

 ⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸

“So why don’t you have a girlfriend, Tama-kun?”

“Wh-wha?”

Tamaki dropped the pencil he’d been using and before he could bend to get it himself, your hand was on his thigh and he was putty in your grasp. You giggled and cooed over him like you always did, but this time you did it while assaulting his mouth and neck with your skilled tongue. This time, for the first time, you made Tamaki feel like a man. Like YOUR man.

⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸

Over the next few weeks, Tamaki had become quite skilled in pleasing a woman. It only took a little guidance to have him sucking at your clit with just the right amount of pressure. He learned on his own how to couple that with his long, delicate fingers twisting and pumping in and out of your slick hole. You’d cling to his silky hair, pulling him closer as a constant stream of praise tumbled from your lips:

“No one has ever made me feel this good.”

“Your fingers are perfect Tama-kun”.

“I love your mouth on me so much, baby.”

The first time you came on his face, Tamaki knew there was a god because he’d found heaven between your thighs.

But that was gone now… ripped away with one mouse click on the night he was going to finally give you his virginity. He had held on to it like it was a treasure. A treasure he’d present to you one day wrapped up in life-long devotion and worship... But Tamaki wasn’t in heaven anymore. He wasn’t going to worship you tonight. For the first time since laying eyes on you, Tamaki wanted to hurt you.

⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸

You turned the shower off and dried yourself. Wiping the condensation from the mirror, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection. You felt like this was going to be the first time giving your body to someone. Tonight was a redo. You were wiping the slate clean. Your first time would no longer be underneath the football captain in the passenger seat of his truck, left feeling sore and unsatisfied. It was going to be with the guy you should have noticed long ago. It would be soft and slow… passionate and filled with sweet words and caresses… limbs tangled in soft sheets that smell like lavender and vanilla. 

You applied your lotion and moisturized your face. The red lace adorning your body was arranged perfectly, accentuating the soft swell of your hips and chest. With one last glance in the mirror and adjustment of your bra, you opened the door to the cool air of your dorm room…

...And saw Tamaki looking murderous. 

His eyes slowly left the screen to meet your gaze. His tear-stained face had never looked this harsh. His normally sweet eyes were narrowed and red from crying. The sweet lips you’d licked and sucked with such tenderness were hard and cold as they pulled upward in a grimace.

The only thing he said before rising from the bed and setting aside your laptop was your camgirl username. Then he was on you before you could draw a breath to explain.

⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸

Tamaki always thought he liked you best on top of him showering him with kisses and threading your fingers through his hair, but he had to admit… having your arms tied to a bed frame with the silky sash of your bathrobe cutting into your skin was doing things to him. When you sniffled, face stained with tears and snot, his dick twitched in his boxers. The whines you were choking back behind the silky red panties stuffed down your throat sent chills up his spine. You had to learn the hard way not to spit them out after a harsh slap echoed against your skin when you fought back the first time.

Tamaki stood back to survey the mess of skin, spit, and tears for a moment. You were a blank canvas for him to mark up with his rage and lust. You tried to hide away your bare pussy by clenching your thighs together. It only spurred him on.

“Do you have any clue what you’ve done?” he hovered over you, sleek muscles rippling over your own soft body, “I waited, and waited, and WAITED,” he bit down on the side of your exposed neck and you screamed behind the silky gag, trying your best not to expel it from your mouth and receive more punishment.

“I want to give you everything, Y/N,” he licks over the bite, almost apologetically, “I don’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want it to happen like this… FUCK, why?! Why did you ruin this?” his long fingers dug into your cheeks as he forced you to meet his fiery gaze. You couldn’t help whimpering and sniffling back more clear runny snot. You were so humiliated at how disheveled and disgusting you must look. His head ducked into the soft spot between your neck and shoulder and you felt him sob. 

Despite the abuse he’d inflicted upon you in the last ten minutes, you nuzzled your cheek into the top of his head in an attempt to comfort him. And he let you… he hated himself for it and he hated you for making this all so hard for him.

“No… no, no, no,” he rose from the bed to set up your ring-light and laptop, ice running through your veins at the sight. Your mind couldn’t accept what was about to happen.

“I’m... I’m not letting you get away with this,” he shook his head and pulled at his hair as he finished setting everything up, “If you’re insisting on being a slut, you’ll be MY slut. And everyone will know…” he jerked your ankle to force you flat on your back.

⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸

Maybe if he’d let the gag out of your mouth, you’d be able to tell him this was just a job to you. That it was clinical… that he was the only one who had ever been able to get you off, that his face was the only one you’d come on… that you needed the money since your parents had disowned you…

But you only laid there, accepting whatever he was going to dish out. You knew he was hurt. You weren’t stupid. You overlooked him while knowing how he felt about you. It took years of horrible one-night stands and countless frat parties pretending that whatever guy you’d picked that night was interesting for you to come to your senses. You hated yourself for being so blind for so long… You adored Tamaki, truly. And you hated yourself for all the times you’d hurt him… so you swallowed your fear and tried to prepare yourself for whatever came next.

⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸

Any soft parts of Tamaki that you’d grown to love were gone, hardened by heartache and desperation. After angling the laptop to get the perfect shot, he started the live stream countdown. Subscribers started trickling in, commenting on how this was a pleasant surprise since it wasn’t one of your regularly scheduled streams. You shut your eyes to pretend this wasn’t real.

Without fanfare or warning, Tamaki ripped apart your thighs, exposing your bare slit. A raw shrill was pulled from your lungs, your back arching from the sting of an abrupt slap. Neurons fired off in your brain… were you in pain? Was it pleasure?

“Since my girlfriend likes to keep secrets from me, I can’t trust what comes out of her whore mouth,” he emphasized his point by stuffing his fingers past your lips, pushing the soaked silk further into your throat, “So she’s going to keep this gag right here until I can fuck the truth out of her,” he trailed his fingers along your reddened folds. Were you getting wet? Horror and shame blossomed in your chest. The fact that you were growing aroused wasn’t lost on Tamaki. His foreign, sadistic grin was back… aimed directly into your soul.  

“So that’s what you like, huh?” His nails bit into your thighs leaving tiny crescents behind, “I’ve been too nice? Too soft?” He pushed your thighs impossibly wide, the stretch causing you to moan. He hovered over your core, onyx orbs blown wide with a mix of hate and lust. Tamaki looked like the devil himself and you wondered just how fucked up you were for wanting his punishment.

He opened his mouth and lolled out his tongue, never severing the desperate gaze you both shared, his intertwined with hunger, yours with fear. You’d never noticed how long and thick his tongue was and couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel caressing every ridge and crevice of your inner walls. He flattened the warm, wet muscle and pressed it along your slit. As he slowly slid it closer and closer to your burning clit, you whimpered and bucked your hips chasing the pleasure you knew he was capable of giving… but this was not your sweet boy and he wasn’t doing any of this for your pleasure.

He slung his arm over your lower stomach and growled into your drenched lips. You were pinned down, helpless against his torturous tongue. Fresh tears pricked at your eyes as you remembered how he’d let you pet him and buck into his face, how sweetly he’d ease you into a gentle release. Not this time… it was all teeth and sharp sucks, his tongue forcing you open violently. You were being shoved over a cliff and despite the horror and violence of what was happening to you. You were approaching an orgasmic state at record speed. Tamaki caught on and doubled down. The arm that wasn’t pinning you into the mattress pulled your leg down straight, your knee in a death grip. The new angle made the sensations even more intense. His face pressed harder into your core and you noticed that at some point, he’d started weeping, small sobs vibrating against your skin. The overwhelming mix of emotions and the vigor in which he was eating you shoved you over the edge.

He kept going along at the same speed with the same determination through your orgasm until it became painful. You pushed past it as best you could, allowing him to sob into your over-sensitive skin until he had his fill. As the pain started intermingling with pleasure, your legs shook and the gag couldn’t hold your screams back any longer. You released against his tongue once more, both of you sobbing. He laid against your thigh for what felt like an eternity before he lifted himself to lay on top of you, his hip bones digging into your soft thighs. You could feel the bulge through the thin material of his boxer briefs. Your hips rose to meet it, a pleading gesture filled with the desire to comfort and please him. Your eagerness encourages his mercy, there’s a meek cry that leaves your lips when the damp silk slips from between your teeth.

“Please baby… I’m so, so sorry I didn’t tell you…” your voice was as weak as a kitten’s cry and Tamaki couldn’t deny it made his heart (his dick) clench.

“Say it…” his lips were close enough to kiss, but you resisted… fearful of what he’d do if you did.

“Say what, Tama?” your eyes were wide with concern and confusion. You were desperate to please him.

He turned your face to the camera that you’d forgotten was there and the gravity of the situation crashed around you again. New tears leaked from your stinging eyes as Tamaki whispered into your ear.

“Say that you’re a lying whore…”

“I..I’m a lying whore…”

The last syllable broke as your abused throat grew accustomed to speaking again. He rewarded you with a soft kiss to your cheek and your eyes closed at the tender gesture. The familiar pain in your chest welled to the surface causing even more tears to escape.

“And tell everyone that you’re my own personal slut”

You repeated the phrase to the audience behind the screen and he hummed with approval, trailing one finger along your wet cheek. 

“Good girl…” the praise sent shivers through your wrecked body.

“And tell them from now on, your boyfriend will be the only one making you come… that they only get to see you be HIS slut.”

You noticed the chat going absolutely haywire at your announcement. Before Tamaki shut your laptop, you realized you’d made three times as much as you’d ever made before and a twisted sense of accomplishment filled your cloudy mind.

“Please,” your voice came out in a croak, “Please untie me. I wanna make it up to you,” his clothed bulge was burning into your core and you could tell he was close to breaking.

“Please let me make you feel good. I’m so, so sorry,” the clench of your thighs around his waist made him whimper.

He reluctantly pulled away to sit on the foot of the bed. The way he curled in on himself hugging his knees made him appear so small, so fragile… a complete change from the man who’d just manhandled you into restraints.

“You’re a liar…” you almost didn’t hear the whisper, his face buried into his knees.

“Please!” you were losing feeling in your hands and all you wanted was to be free to comfort him.

His eyes met yours and it was your Tamaki again... Your sweet boy… the snarling, green beast that threatened to devour you was sleeping now after it reached its fill of violence. He crawled over your body and released your restraint. Before you even regained feeling in your hands, you wrapped your arms around him. You littered his collarbone with sweet kisses and apologetic sobs. He began to melt into your affectionate gestures and you wrapped your legs around his waist pulling him impossibly close. Wet lips met and your tongues fought against each other for dominance. Hips began to roll against each other, increasing pressure until you both gasped. 

The violence was gone, but this was still not a gentle coupling like you’d been planning. Tamaki pulled away and freed his straining cock from his boxers. The skin-to-skin contact made your eyes roll back into your skull. You felt his long fingers grasp your throat, squeezing to remind you just how powerful they were. You shuddered in response, arching upward into his touch, chasing that high his dominance was giving you.

With one swift motion, Tamaki speared you onto his cock. With the minimal prep he’d given you, the stretch was agonizing. This was by far the largest cock you’d ever taken and it stole your breath from your aching lungs. You moaned earning a visceral reaction from the boy on top of you.  

Tamaki stayed as still as he could. He refused to come so soon… not when he’d waited so long for this. He tightened his grip on your throat and tentatively rocked his hips into yours. It didn’t take long for it to progress into the most frantic love-making you’d ever experienced.

There was no other way to describe it, he was hate fucking you… biting and sucking your chest until blood bloomed under your skin… hammering into your sore, sticky cunt with total abandon… he was using you like a toy, taking out all his frustrations on your body.

It was ecstasy.

When his hips stuttered as he met his release, the spasms of his tip against your gummy walls sent you into a painful orgasm. You were spent and it seemed like he was too. Your fingers twitched over the crown of his head, wanting to run your fingers through his hair but too scared to initiate any contact with him. As if he could read your mind, he grabbed your hand and placed it on his head. You sighed and began carding through the tangles, gently undoing them. You felt a stream of tears running down your chest as you worked your fingers through his strands. Lifting his face gently, you met his teary gaze with your own.

“Don’t…” he drew in a shuddering breath, “ever lie to me like that again…” the monster behind his eyes stirred quietly, a malicious glint in his eye, before shifting back into your gentle boyfriend. 

“Never, I swear to you, baby…” he lets you lift his chin gently to meet your lips. His eyes close and he sighs into your kiss. His muscles relax and when his eyes open again, his warm, adoring expression falls over your face. The hand that wanted to choke the life out of your eyes minutes ago now caresses your jaw tenderly,

“I trust you…” his lips turn up into a grin that’s just a little too wide, “Because you’re a smart girl, aren’t you?” his top lip brushed against your still trembling bottom lip…

“Y-yes…”

You were fucked. This whole situation was fucked up and you weren’t blind to the fact. But as Tamaki nuzzled into your neck placing soft kisses and whispering praises into your skin, you let yourself bask in the gentleness of the moment…

Because you were a smart girl and smart girls learn their lessons quickly... 

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Consequences

Word count: 2100+

Rating: explicit, 18+ only

Outline: Javier Pena x “You” (cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: slightly scary angry Javi; fingering/F receiving; oral/M receiving; messing around in Javier’s office with the possibility of getting caught

@deberiaestarescribiendo and @spacedilf - This is for y'all! :)

---

You tapped lightly on Javier’s office door and heard him call out a gruff, “Come.”

You opened the door to see him seated at his desk, papers and folders spread out like a hurricane had hit. “You wanted to see me?”

“You’re late.” Javier fixed his dark brown eyes on you, no hint of a smile or underlying humor to lighten his words.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it. I told you to come see me in my office immediately after the morning staff meeting.” He stood from behind the desk and walked quickly toward you, then threw one arm out over your shoulder to push the heavy wooden door closed with a quick bang. It made you jump.

He took another step closer, hands on his hips, arms splayed out to the sides, and your back hit the door. You were cornered. You fixed your eyes on the floor and saw that his toes were nearly touching yours. You smoothed your hands down your thighs, then your nervous fingers twisted the fabric of your skirt, pinching and pressing it between your knuckles.

Your voice came out in a hoarse whisper. “I got delayed.”

He answered you roughly, hot words hitting the top of your bent head. He smelled of contradictions: his morning coffee and cigarettes; his spiced, woodsy cologne; and the breath mint he had aggressively crunched during the last few minutes of the morning meeting. “Maybe you should learn not to get delayed.”

You waited, feeling the silence descend heavily in his office. The only thing you could hear through Javier's solid door was the muffled sounds of office routines: hurried footsteps in the hall, phones ringing, and typewriters chattering. You wondered if anyone could hear Javier over the mix; if he ever yelled loud enough to stop the world that was spinning just a few feet outside his door.

You kept your eyes on his feet and meekly moved your arms behind your hips, palms flat against the door, buttocks pressing against the backs of your hands to keep them from nervously tapping. The cool, flat wood against your skin grounded you, and you took in a shaky breath to try to steady yourself.

Javier took the opportunity to step forward, boxing you in even closer, both of his large legs caging yours in. He braced one hand flat against the door near your head, and used his other to grasp your chin firmly but not painfully in his large fingers. He tilted your chin up so that you couldn't avoid him, couldn't keep staring at the shiny tips of his shoes.

When your eyes met his, you felt your last breath leave your body. A volcano of uncertainty and embarrassment heated you from within, strangling you from ribs to eyebrows. You wondered if he could feel the heat, the sudden rise in your internal temperature.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

You couldn't think. One heartbeat passed, then two. Your blood rushed through your ears so quickly that you could no longer hear the world outside of his door. There was only you and Javier, and you felt like a part of yourself was close to disappearing the longer you spent in close contact with him. Maybe when he was done with you, it would just be him, and you would have evaporated.

You gulped and opened your mouth to try to answer, but only a strangled squeak came out. Javier was still gripping your chin between his thumb and first knuckle, but it wasn't painful, your airway wasn't restricted, and all of your parts should have worked fine... but the only part of you that seemed to be functioning was your beating heart and the burning ball of desire that was starting to spin in your gut.

"Anything? You have nothing to say about this?" Javier's brows knitted together, and the look of disappointment he gave you was hell. You would do anything, say anything to erase it.

"I- I'm-" You gagged on your own words, then swallowed and tried again, concentrating as hard as you could on getting language from your brain to your lips to his ears. Finally a whispered rush of words tumbled out. "I'm sorry. I don't know what happened, but I'm here now. I'm here like you asked."

You bit your lip and hoped that would be enough. He still scowled at you like you had wounded him, but he dropped his hand from your chin. You felt the warmth in your face start to recede, until you realized what he was doing with his hand.

Javier skimmed the backs of his knuckles down your collarbone, over one breast, down your ribs, over your hip, and down... down... down the front of your thigh. He didn't stop until he reached the hem of your pencil skirt. He toyed with the fabric for a moment, teasing the edge of it with the back of his index finger, before he suddenly hooked his fingers underneath and pulled it up quickly. The front of one thigh was exposed as the fabric bunched around your hip. The surprise of it and the sudden feeling of cool air on your upper leg made you squeak. You gasped for air as you felt his thick fingers start to trace their way up the inside of your leg. The heat came rushing back up tenfold.

Javier still had his eyes fixed on yours, keeping you in place with his look as he slowly made his way up your thigh. When his thick fingers reached your panties, he hesitated for only a moment before hooking the leg band at the top of your thigh and pressing the pads of his index and middle finger to your slit. You were hot and soft and wet already, and you wanted him to keep pushing those fingers against you, make you open up for him like a flower.

"Do you want this?" He spoke the words in a low tone, trying to capture your attention, trying to grate through your haze.

His gaze was so intense that you closed your eyes and nodded vigorously. "Yes," you breathed. "Yes, I want this." You threw your head back and rested it against the door, exposing your throat to him like a sacrifice.

He responded by diving into your neck, abrading your soft skin with his mustache, planting kisses and small bites up one side of your throat and down the other. He kept his fingers right where they were, just at the entrance of you, and you desperately wanted to shift and wiggle and force his fingers inside where they belonged. A rush of wetness built and you could feel it soaking his fingers as they stayed maddeningly still, just out of reach of your greedy slit.

“Javi, I- Javier, please-” You couldn’t form the words, the thoughts that would make him move his hand. He just kept kissing your neck, biting his way up to your ear, your jaw, your chin, and then back down again to your collarbone. Then he tilted his head to the other side and did it again. How many times had he chewed up one side of your neck and down the other? Eight? Twelve? Twenty? You had lost count, feeling the heat and the desire rise in your chest.

You were still pinned against his door, palms flat behind you and trapped by the pressure of your own hips, head thrown back and fixed in place by Javier’s open-mouthed assault on your senses. You could barely breathe, let alone tell him the words that would convey how much you needed his fingers inside of you now. Just as you started to feel faint, he suddenly plunged his thick index and middle fingers inside as deep as he could, stopping only when the curled knuckles of his ring and pinky fingers hit resistance.

You gasped out a strangled cry, and he moved his hand from the door to cup it gently over your mouth. “No noise,” he growled against your ear. His voice was low and gravelly, serious and calm. How was he so calm while he was doing this to you? While he was tearing you apart at your jugular? While he was working his broad fingers inside of you and building up your waves of pleasure?

You shuddered and moaned a soft “Mmm-hmm…” against his fingers, indicating your compliance.

Suddenly there was space around you and a rush of cold against your crotch, and you blinked stupidly at the bright light and the change in temperature. Javier was gone, moving away from you to sit on the little leather sofa in the corner of his office.

He settled in, leaning back to open his belt and zipper. He looked at you with a hint of irritation. “Are you coming?” He jerked his head to call you over.

You gathered your wits and tried to blink away the haze he had left you in. You pushed up off the door and walked shakily over to him.

“Kneel down for me,” he grunted. You stepped around one long leg and kneeled in front of the sofa, settling your arms over his thighs. He pulled his erection out of his fly and pumped himself a few times to get ready.

“Don’t you want me to lock your door?” You looked at him with concern.

He froze and fixed his coffee-brown eyes on yours. You suddenly felt like you had done something wrong, upset him in some way.

“If you had been on time we wouldn’t have to lock the door. I would have taken you somewhere private and fucked you like a good girl. But you were late, and now you don’t get to come. You better get me off quickly before somebody needs me for something.”

You nodded and felt a little petulant. Now you would have to try to find time to go to the ladies room later, to work out your frustrations on your own fingers in silence so that nobody would hear you. You wouldn’t get to cry Javier’s name as you climaxed. But there was no sense in feeling wounded, being late had its consequences.

You got to work quickly, wrapping one hand around his base and bobbing up and down on the length of him, swirling your tongue over the head before plunging back down to take him as far back in your throat as you could.

You tried to move rapidly without sacrificing all of the little markers of attention that you loved to lavish on him. He was always so sensitive when you kitten-licked his slit, always groaned and shifted his hips just so when you ran the tip of your tongue firmly up the frenulum and switched to a flat, open-mouthed lick around his head. You also had to keep it clean, somehow keep things moist without letting excess saliva drip and dribble onto his pants. This whole thing was difficult and felt unfair, but then again, maybe next time you would be on time.

You pulled out all the stops, giving Javier every ounce of energy that you had, trying to bring him closer without rushing, fearful of getting caught and fired. Or worse yet, keeping your job and hearing all of the secondhand rumors that always seemed to swirl around Javier and his conquests. You kept your hand and mouth working, humming in frustration as your thoughts occupied you.

Suddenly Javi placed one large hand on your shoulder and grunted a low, “I’m coming.” You gave one last long suck as he released into your mouth, letting the salty fluid slip down your throat. You stayed attached to him at the head until you felt the eruption stop, then you pulled off, closing your lips around him to catch every last drop of liquid.

He didn’t look at you as he tucked himself back into his pants and rearranged his clothing. “You can go now.”

You wanted to pout and tell him how unfair it was, but you also knew the rules you had agreed to, the game that you were playing together. You stood up and brushed your skirt down, grazing your hands over your knees to make sure there was no dust on them. You crossed to the door and turned the handle. It was locked.

You looked back over your shoulder to Javier with surprise. He grinned, “I locked it behind your back while I was kissing your neck. I knew you wouldn’t notice.”

You laughed, grateful for his gesture of respect. You had been playing with a safety net under you after all. “Thank you,” you said wryly. “I’m glad it was locked after all.”

“Oh, no problem, babe.” Javier arched an eyebrow at you. “But next time you’re late? It won’t be.”

--- Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

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[itsthe-neo-zone]

Paint Bleeds on Ice - Enhypen Series

Enhypen, Park Sunghoon x Reader

Please read the Masterlist for this series. 

Authors Note// A bit of jay and jakey in this chapter, enjoy :)

Chapter 5:

“It’s not getting easier.” Juniper mumbled, her lips were cracked and dry, she moistened them with her tongue momentarily.

Jake sighed, he twisted around in his position on the sofa from the side.

“I know but you have to keep trying.” He pressed his lips together if there was a feeling he despised it was the lack of being able to help. And the emotion seemed to be the only feeling that he had these days.

“What if,” juniper paused, jakes eyes peered from his book and towards the hunched figure of his friend, he watched her stare emptily at the scratched canvas.

“What if I don’t want to?”

“don’t want to what.” The book slipped shut, this was more important. Jake felt that sense of hopelessness creep up again.

“Keep trying.” Her small echo bounced off the blank empty walls in the studio. “I don’t want this anymore.”

“Juniper please.” Jake stood up, fixing the jumper he wore. A shiver pressed itself into his cool hands, his voice cracked slightly. The stinging of a salty tear began slowly trickling its way down her lower eye lid, pushing down a sniffle she repressed the sorrowful emotion. Don’t cry. Not here, not now.

He walked over to the stool she sat on. Slipping his fingers into hers he took away the paintbrush and pencil.

“It’ll come back eventually.” Arms slowly introduced themselves to her crouched figure. She looked fragile, broken. Helpless. It wasn’t a look that suited her.

Jake pressed her head towards his chest effulging her with his hold and scent hoping it calmed the raging solemn emotions that were starting to take over.

His eyes softened at the weak grasp she had on his sweater. She’d lost weight. It’s like she was starving herself or something. Rubbing up and down her firm back Jake tried his best to give her what he could.

“I don’t think so Jake.”

~

Dear diary,

So I’m fucked, big time.

Whatever happened to me must’ve fucked up the creative part in my head, because it’s been a good while and I haven’t reverted.

I’ve probably lost everything now, all my skill, the talent I’ve been cultivating and working on, gone, poof.

Mums called into college to ask if I can switch classes, I guess I’m not going to be able to continue in art since nothing is working right now.

I’m just sick of this, sick of everything, sick of having to sit around and hope for the best while I ‘give it another chance’ when I know myself I wont be able to go back. I regret nothing though, it just wasnt executed properly.

And I just feel so vulnerable.

I cant control the emotions in me, I cant control my anger, I’m just always so numb and when I do feel something its either tears or anger.

I miss being happy.

I miss…

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” The black diary flips shut. Juniper slides it off her lap and into her bag swiftly as soon as she hears jays familiar voice ringing near her.

The tall raven, took a seat next to her flashing her a bright smile. “How have you been Juni?”

“Good, good. Um, all good.” Juniper glanced down and up before making her way towards his own gaze with her eyes. She mentally cursed herself over the small and awkward response.

“Uh, ok, that’s good.” He shifted closer, “Listen,” Jays fingers slipped above her own resting above the table, he was caught off guard with the cold flinch that shuddered throughout her figure. This wasn’t normal juniper behaviour. Somethings wrong.

What the fuck was wrong with me, junipers face fell, she tried to cover the horrified look that was slowly peeking from behind the mask.  when she saw herself flinch away from jays touch. His face gave it all away.

He noticed too.

“I… um, I wanted to introduce you to someone special.” His fingers moved away and Jay distanced slightly.

Please no, don’t. It was almost felt physically, the pain that panged through her chest watching him pull away from her touch, his visible confusion turned into discomfort then respect as he gave her space. God I always do this, I push everyone away, fuck.

Juniper clenched her jaw involuntarily. “Sure, I’d love to meet them.” She paused. Her lips opened slightly to talk but the words were stuck, clogged in her throat.

Juniper pressed them together quickly forming a tight lipped smile.

“Fantastic, I know you’ll get super close.”

Jay flashed a smile back at juniper, she nodded unable to comprehend why her body was getting hot and cold flashes. The awkward tension in between the air around her and jay. The boy she was once inseparable with.

 ~~~

 “Keep still will you?” Karina mumbled. “You’ll definitely give everything away with that body language.” She rolls her eyes lolling her head back to stretch,

I looked up from beneath my lashes at her, the raven was perched up at the edge of the table. The diner ambience was calm enough not to startle me, but I could still feel the sharp trickling feeling of beady eyes on my back.

“I’m slightly uncomfortable.”

“Yeah I know, but you need to ease yourself back into public settings, no human can survive being locked up in a studio all day.”

“I wouldn’t call it being locked up. Its voluntary isolation,” i was able to calm the fiddling with my fingers by sliding my hand looking for jakes.

“Right, He’s not here.” I whisper. Karina picks up on my words.

“He’s taking too long in the toilets.” She sighed,  “Probably admiring his obnoxious self in the mirror.”

“when did jay say he’ll be here?

“At six thirty.”

“Calm down you two, he’ll be here soon.” Jake finally makes his way over towards their booked table sliding next to me into his space.

“Missed me?” he grinned. I sighed feeling relieved,

“No not at all,” Karina rolled her eyes, taking her seat as well facing Jake. The two continued bickering playfully to pass time.

Shifting slightly, I slipped my hand into his gratefully, he extended it out letting me touch his metallic rings, a habit I picked up recently. I twisted them around studying his fingers.

Recently Jake has been the target of my attention and a safe haven in this whole mess, trying to get myself out of this block through drawing him has been the last thread keeping me from losing it completely.

I chuckle quietly at the stage I’ve hit. Playing with the texture indented into the ring I don’t realise jay had arrived and was chatting to the others already. Jakes hand caressed my own capturing my attention.

Glancing upwards I was greeted with the warm smile jay usually gave, “hey,” he mumbled, extending his hands. I stood gathering courage, stepping closer and into his embrace.

“I missed you.”

There was a tremble in his voice, his arms careful around me, almost cautious. Like id disappear with a tighter grip. I felt him holding back.

“I missed you too,” I sigh, his scent was always the same. Comforting and velvety, wanting to push me back onto a train down memory lane with him before he left for America.

It was short but I wanted it to last, I wanted to be there, in the moment. In his touch, speaking from the heart, whispering only for each other to hear.  

Jay stepped away, his smile bright, the edges melancholic though, it was similar to the one I saw before he left.

I was confused.

“So, I wanted to introduce you all to someone very special to me.”

I sat back down letting jay take his seat at the top of the table, the figure that was standing to the far edge, came into view.

Blonde curls, gorgeous round orbs, doe eyed even. The girl held herself with grace and poise, she waked towards him, smiling as she greeted the table. It was genuine as can be, and filled with so much joy.

“Hi, my name is Cara, wonderful to meet you all.”

“This is Karina,” the raven smiled a greeting,  “Jake, one of my closest friends.” Jake nodded grinning.   “And this is juni.” I looked up flashing a quick smile.

I was still very confused and I think the feeling was mutual between me and the others. Jake gasped slightly when the young female shifted closer to his friend.

Cara grabbed his hand in hers and interlinked their fingers, I felt a shiver tickle the back of my spine, feeling a cold flash through my fingertips.

“Bro? you have something to confess?”

Jay looked from her to his friends. “Were dating, Cara is my girlfriend.” He lifted their hands together. I didn’t need the movement, my eyes were already attached to their fingers since she touched him.

I gulped slightly, the sour taste at the back of my throat was itching to be relieved but I couldn’t dare bring myself to cough or speak.

“Congratulations, I’m happy for you bro.” Jake was nudged harshly by Karina to notice.

“Yes, congrats.” She added forcedly, flashing a grin towards the two.

My fingers nimbly searched for jakes beneath the table, ever material that wasn’t his touch sent me into a deeper spiral of worry.

I was too late.

“I told you they’d love you.”

I should’ve said yes, I should’ve been there.

“See sweetheart? Nothing to worry about Cara, you’ll be close friends with them all.”  

I pushed him away, for good. They’ll all leave.  

“I know you and juniper will get along so well, I trust you two to become close very quickly, Cara has a similar personality to our juni.”

Is she my replacement? I’ll be so easily replaced with everyone else, they’ll all go.

Jay, Jake, Karina, Ningning, mum, dad. Everyone.

It’s even getting difficult to breath.

I found jakes warmth radiating from his figure near me. Gripping his hand, he held my hand beneath the table tightly rubbing his thumb soothingly in the centre of my palm.

Jake stood eyeing Karina, she picked up the message.

“Jay tell  me about how you two met?”

“Lets take a trip to the bathroom, shall we?” murmuring, I felt his touch slither behind me and make its way to the small of my lower back. Lifting me up gently. We stepped out and away from the table.

Daze evident in my eyes.

“Is juni ok? You not feeling well?” jay stood up making the two females chatting pause,

“She had coffee before she came here is all, you know her and caffeine don’t go well on an empty stomach.”

Jay paused, eyebrows furrowed.

“She’s always loved coffee, this is juniper were talking about.” He mumbled to Jake. Jays eyes glimmered with mistrust. He was beyond confused.

The males lips pressed together, before sighing, “It’ll be alright Hyung. Don’t worry, she’ll be fine, just order something for her till we get back.”

Jay watched Jake carefully walk off away with wonder, his eyes capturing my small frame against jakes broad one.

~~~

 “That was so obvious, juni—” he paused for a second. Trying to read the situation. “Are you ok?”

The breath that left my lips came out shakier than I had expected. And I wasn’t liking the knot that was building and squeezing tighter low and in my stomach. It made me feel slightly sick,

“I haven’t eaten anything but I feel sick.” I slid myself down to the floor, the corridor we were in was near the back towards the bathrooms. i glanced up towards Jake seeing him flustered and anxious.

“You’ll be ok, it’ll be fine,” he sounded more like self-reassurance. My brain racked through actions. What was I supposed to do now, I sighed again.

Fluttering my eyes shut I could still feel the ghost of jays touch around my figure and the warm minty breath caressing my ears. It felt violating. He was with someone else, I couldn’t be like this anymore. I was too late.

But fuck did I wish it was me.

The feeling of his ghostly figure around me started to get too much, I was too aware of the fluffy fibre of the jumper I wore and the tight astringent feeling of the cage of my bra pressing down on my chest. It became too much to feel, the eyelashes on my cheek resting, they were prickling and I felt like I was about to explode.

“I need to forget.” I murmured hauling myself up.

“What?” Jake staggered backwards confused but helping me up. I silently thanked him pushing him back gently.

“I need to forget it all.” I whisper, he heard clearly from how close we were. But the confusion on his face showed what was on his mind.

Jakes voice cracked slightly he was seriously concerned now. “Jun, what are you talking about?”

“I need this, so just. i…” I felt out of breath, shaky and not in the right place mentally. But his lips were there, Jake was breathing hard, almost panting.  Taking some of his exhale in, I paused, it felt good. It was so wrong but it felt good.

“I’m sorry, jakey.” I pushed him further back,

“Sorry for wh--”

He hit a wall, but he couldn’t say much when his lips were pressing against mine, I pushed. Letting out all the frustration out. Everything I was struggling with left through that kiss.

Pressing deeper and tilting my head he reciprocated slowly easing in after the initial shock, it felt electric, sending shockwaves down my entire being and waking me up slowly. The dull pain in my chest subsiding as it filled with a nauseatingly sweet feeling.

I felt his fingers slowly trace every little inch of my arms, looking for skin he found my palms slowly taking his own and interlocking, trying to reassure the raging storm within me.

The other caressing my own cheek, he pushed away the wet tears rolling down, wiping all the pain and dull aching away.

It didn’t match, he didn’t match the aggression. Jakes soft actions didn’t mirror the violent kissing. He picked up the pace letting himself enter past my lips his tongue keeping me focused on him and making me forget, I tried hard to keep set on why I did this,

Why was I kissing Jake? Why did I do this?

The questions were fumbling my brain, I didn’t want to fall in the trap of losing myself in the pleasure. But I haven’t felt it in so long. It was a rare emotion. And it was intense like a drug taken away from someone addicted then being dangled right between his grasp.

 And I was hooked pulling him closer to my touch, so close it almost hurt my own lips.

 ~~~

I went home that night with the bitter taste of his iced Americano in my mouth. And an immense amount of guilt for running away from him.

Seola - It’s the neo zone © All rights reserved.

[inksandpensblog]

Sticktober 19: Destruction

“when do we start?”

When, indeed.

He looked at demolished ruins of Animate, thinking.

Should he give it a day? Let things settle? Or should they start immediately, to keep from losing…whatever progress this was?

[How does 15 minutes sound?]

It nodded.

[I’m setting a timer for both of us, I’ll brb.]

He paused. He considered mentioning his previous ultimatum about breaking anything, but instead ended up adding:

[Go be with your friends.]

And with that, he deleted the little box, allowing the orange figure inside to stumble briefly before rushing towards the browser window.

(He wasn’t sure why he added that. A show of goodwill? But why?)

He turned from the screen, feeling bizarrely like an interloper.

Fifteen minutes.

He should make a Facebook announcement, and explain what happened. No, his phone was messed up, he should reset it.

“Alan?”

Or maybe he should explain why the laundry was taking so long.

When he returned to his desk, he was somewhat surprised and a little relieved to find that the orange figure appeared to already be exchanging casual farewells with the four from the fight simulator.

The figure had opened Animate to its own project earlier. He wasn’t sure what simply closing and reopening the project would do, so he found the history menu and carefully began backtracking.

Watching the software slowly piece itself back together was gratifying, though he probably should’ve expected the jumpscare that was all the living sketched suddenly reappearing. He froze, unsure how to handle them.

But the orange figure leaped in before he had to do anything. Well, flew in would be more accurate, as its wings had returned.

He watched as the figure brandished the pencil tool, before gesturing at the sketches with it. Then, he saw all of them approach and somehow leap into the tool, seemingly of their own accord. The figure hesitated, before siphoning away its own wings in a similar way.

Then they stared at each other for a silence-loaded moment.

[If I hit “undo” again after you’ve done that will they all come back?]

It shrugged.

Well, he was basically back to where he’d been when he’d first gone afk.

[Think you could disassemble your little ray gun and put everything back where you found it?]

It seemed to startle a little, before jogging over to where it had dropped the contraption earlier. It picked up the gun, spent a brief time simply staring at it, then started pulling it apart piece by piece (with, it was amusing to note, about as much frustration as went into unsticking stubborn lego bricks) and tossing them in the vague direction of the toolbar, where they were drawn to their usual resting places like magnets.

(It got frustrated. He got frustrated.)

At some point in the process, it had sat down, and he didn’t realize until it had stood up to face him again that he’d been zoned out and staring at it the whole time. Blinking, he directed the cursor up to the save button almost reflexively.

He noticed its stance loosen a bit, as the progress percentage bar reached completion.

(It could…he could…he felt relief.)

(Which had to mean it…he could feel fear.)

(Duh, Alan. It’d…he’d been quivering like a leaf earlier.)

(That could be simulated. Couldn’t it?)

[Alright,] he typed, waving away the complicated thoughts. [for the sake of getting used to each other, I was thinking we start with just finishing the running animation I was working on before you…]

(Before he…)

[woke up.]

It looked at a blank area of the canvas, then nodded at him, before proceeding to move to the spot where its gaze had landed and…ah, resuming the pose it had held before.

[I’ll start the next frame then?]

It gave a salute.

(It…he could be enthusiastic?)

Wait.

[Wait, none of the other frames are gonna come to life, are they?]

That actually seemed to give it pause, its raised foot returning to the floor as it brought a hand up to its face to think.

“I don’t think so? Not now that I’m here”

(Oh great, he was just as clueless as Alan was.)

He’d have to just go with things, then.

[Ok. I’m gonna start drawing now.]

It resumed its pose.

He drew the next frame, and then one more, saving after each one, trying to act like nothing had changed in the past half hour. Like he didn’t have an autonomous stickfigure on his desktop again. Like no major revelations were lying in wait for him to lose his focus on the task at hand.

(He wasn’t normally that judicious with saving, but now, with…)

“What are you doing?”

He looked back two frames, where the figure had once again left its pose and was...um…leaning on…the fourth wall??

Oh, the new frames probably blocked it in or something. He moved the cursor to the relevant frame on the timeline, clicking it to bring the figure forward. It wobbled at the sudden loss of support, but recovered quickly.

[Drawing?]

“A run cycle? Without keys?”

[]

[Yes.]

It…put its hands on its hips.

(…was he impatient?)

“And how do you think you’re gonna animate a consistent run without contact points and passing poses?”

[]

[Can I not just copy earlier poses?]

It shook its head…at him. “Not if you keep drawing straight-ahead like this! All your breakdown frames are gonna be so different that the end of the cycle won’t loop back into the beginning cohesively at all, the final product is gonna look so janky!

[]

[My what frames?]

It facepalmed.

(…okay, an “it” wouldn’t make him feel this level of embarrassment.)

(God, he had a little guy in his pc.)

(…God, he’d had little guys in his pc.)

[What should I call you?]

It- he looked up at the text without reacting for a moment. Alan supposed the question was a bit off-topic, from the figure’s perspective.

“Didn’t you give me a title?”

[I didn’t, actually. Seems that just happened on its own.]

“It’s a bit long. Can you just call me Orange?”

Huh. He’d expected a shortened version of his file name.

(He’d had an expectation?)

But yes, he could do that.

[Orange. I’m Alan.]

The figure…Orange nodded, offering a half-hearted wave, and how had he already figured out exactly what that looked like?

He must’ve paused a bit too long, because with a scuff of his foot Orange added “Don’t expect me to say it’s nice to meet you.”

Which was.

[Fair. The feeling’s mutual. But we’re here now.]

[So. Those frames you mentioned.]

Orange nodded, adopting a thinking pose again. “How about this: scrap what you have for now, and I’ll give you some new poses to copy. Then we’ll work from there.”

[Okay.]

He started moving the cursor, but stopped himself as a thought struck.

[Um, when you say “scrap it,” you probably mean just delete everything I don’t need from within the project, right?]

[As opposed to deleting the project itself?]

Alan saw the exact moment when Orange had the same thought that had prompted him to ask.

“yeah preferably” the figure replied, hugging himself and trying to look nonchalant about it.

(…he wasn’t reading too deep into the body language, was he?)

(Well without any actual animation work to focus on, it was either that or thinking about other unsaved projects, which he really didn’t want to examine too closely right now.)

He deleted every frame except the blank one Orange had emerged from.

On a whim, he renamed the project. Following the tail of that whim, he went and got his external drive and backed the project up.

It took him until he’d opened an entirely new project to realize that Orange had been staring after him through the whole process, observing without commenting.

[You’re not getting deleted.]

(He couldn’t really explain it, himself, but he hoped that would suffice.)

Orange nodded, his posture shedding a wariness that Alan hadn’t identified before.

Alan looked at the browser window, just barely visible peeking out from behind where Animate overlapped it. He could still see the four from earlier. The card game had mutated into card-tower-constructing, except the constructors were all doing a rather poor job of pretending not to be keeping a watch on Orange. The tower collapsed twice in the few seconds he spent watching.

Noticing a flash of orange text, he returned his attention to Animate.

“Hey, leave them be, I’m helping you.”

Alan frowned. That was technically true, but…something about it didn’t seem right.

Orange shifted his weight to his other foot. “That was the deal, right? I help you animate, and you don’t end them.”

Oh.

No, that actually hadn’t been the deal, but…

(Even seeing how easily Alan could bring them back, it still mattered that much to him?)

[Not ending them isn’t conditional on you helping me.]

[I did it before because I thought you all were gonna destroy the computer.]

[As long as none of you do that, no one’s getting ended.]

“Why would we destroy it? We were just playing.”

He...didn’t have a good response to that.

(Blue screens and fires and virus detectors, gobbled up essays and popup preventors, hasty red brush strokes and mission briefings...stickfigures all seemed like destructive things.)

[Okay then don’t worry about me ending them. I won’t do it.]

“Okay then don’t worry about us destroying the pc that we LIVE ON, we won’t do it”

He’d have to give them the benefit of the doubt next time he saw them prancing around the desktop, wouldn’t he? That sure would be a change of pace.

“Wait, if nothing’s getting broken and no one’s getting ended, why am I helping you?”

[I said I’d let you free if you did.]

“oh yeah”

“So if no one’s getting ended, what happens if I stop helping?”

One of the friends in the browser slumped over, elbows on the card table and head in hands. Orange reeled back minutely, looking in the direction of the browser, before thumping a hand to his chest and stomping one foot. Alan caught a brief flash of orange text before the figure realized it was visible and somehow batted it away, but not before he’d caught the words “Hey, I heard that, don’t call me a brazen idiot!”

Alan observed bemusedly as little noodle arms waved in tune with rising tempers on both sides of the developing argument.

It was, he could admit, a worthwhile question. What if Orange refused?

(His old solution of shoving the dissenter into a box didn’t sit right with him anymore.)

[Nothing I guess, I’ll just be grumpy.]

Argument interrupted, Orange folded his arms. “I feel like there’s a point I could demonstrate here, but honestly I’m all in on the helping-you-animate thing, if only because you’re grasp of the process is atrocious.”

And he was getting scolded by a stickfigure.

[You’ve already destroyed my Facebook friendships, please not my pride too.]

Orange…no, yeah, that was definitely giggling, that Orange was doing.

[Alright, how about we even things out a bit? I’ve got my two stipulations but you’ve only got one. Can you think of anything else you want or don’t want from me?]

“No”

That was.

[Really? Not a single thing?]

Orange shrugged. “Nope”

Could he not conceptualize…did he not understand the advantage Alan held? Did he really not see a need to level the playing field, or did he just not realize he could?

Geez, Alan was practically getting vertigo from trying to look down at how low the bar was.

(He was resolutely not thinking about all the things he knew would sail right over its current placement.)

(All the things he’d done. Done to people.)

(…no wonder they wanted to destroy his pc so badly.)

…he was gonna have to be the responsible one, wasn’t he?

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers Zero Vol. 12 Azusa Mukami [Track 1]

Original title: 串刺しの蝶たち

Source: Diabolik Lovers Zero Vol. 12 Azusa Mukami [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Kishio Daisuke

Translator’s note: The second to last Zero CD I have to translate before completing the entire series, wooh~! I know Azusa isn’t a very popular character within the fandom, but I actually have a huge soft spot for him after translating his Eternal Blood CD. ;w; He is just such a cutie at times, it warms my heart. Hearing his ‘clone’ talk regularly completely threw me off though! He sounds so different, but in a good way! I kind of wish Azusa would start talking a little faster himself but I suppose that’s part of the charm of his character?

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5

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Track 1: Pinned Butterflies

*Creaaaaak*

*THUD*

The two of you step inside the museum.

“It’s really...pouring outside, huh?”

You nod.

“I’m glad we just so happened...to pass by a place where we can take shelter from the rain...If not, we might have ended up...wandering through the forest while sopping wet...However, if we return home late...Ruki and the others will...get worried. I wonder if we should have just...headed straight home after finishing our errand?”

You frown. 

“It has been a while since we visited the Demon World...So we just wanted to make a little detour, right...?”

*CRASH*

You flinch at the thunder.

“...Oh. It struck closeby...With the weather like this...It seems smart to stay here...until the rain lifts...”

You agree.

“We’ll end up returning home late but...Let’s stay here just a little longer? Then after we’re back...We can apologize to everyone. I’m sure they’ll understand...If we explain.”

You nod.

“Mmh. I suppose we can kill some time...inside this building?”

Azusa starts looking around.

“Hm...But...I didn’t expect to find a museum around here...Seems like we are the only visitors though...Furthermore...Oh. What an impressive amount of portraits...Several people are portrayed...Seeing them all lined up next to each other like this...makes me a little anxious.”

You tell him it’s a little creepy.

“Mmh. I’m sure they would have made for nice paintings...if only their expressions were a little more bright...But they all seem to be suffering. ...That large canvas over there...The man on it looks sad, don’t you think? I wonder if he...went through a painful experience? ...This museum is kinda...weird.”

*CRASH*

“Ah...! ...Ah, are you okay? ...The thunder is a little scary here, don’t you think? It said on the guide map that there’s a basement floor as well...So should we move there?”

*TIMESKIP*

You have arrived in the basement.

“Just as I thought...We can’t hear the thunder down here...It’s less illuminated than the earlier floor but...It seems comfortable to stay at.”

Azusa comes to a halt.

“Oh. A door. I wonder what room this is...?”

He opens the door.

*Creaaaak*

“Woah...It’s so spacious...There’s a bunch of glass cases...Are they exhibiting something, perhaps...? ...Oh! There’s a lot of...insects. They all look like...specimen.”

You get scared, hiding behind Azusa.

*Rustle*

“Oh? What’s wrong...? No need to hide...They can’t move, so it’s fine...”

You still seem worried.

“Hm...There’s a lot of species from the Demon World but...I can spot some insects which exist in the human world as well...Ah! This! These are the bugs which devastated Yuma’s garden in the past...They ate the vegetables Yuma had been carefully growing...It was quite the fiasco...Me and Kou had to help him get rid of the bugs as well...Fufu~ Brings back memories...”

The two of you continue looking around.

“...Oh. Now that I got a better look, they’re displayed all over the walls as well. I wonder if that...large insect the size of a cushion is...real?”

You get scared again.

“...Oh. Ah...Huh? Your complexion looks...pale?”

You explain. 

“Ah...I’m sorry. I guess these are scary to you...even if they can’t move? Yet I failed to notice...Shall we leave this room now?”

You try and act tough. 

“You don’t look okay...No need to push yourself...Okay?”

*Rustle*

“Your body is...shaking. Hey, come here.”

Azusa pulls you close.

*Rustle rustle*

“I’m sure you’ll calm down in my embrace...In no time...”

He starts stroking your head.

“There, there...Everything will be okay...I’m with you...after all...”

You smile. 

“Mmh. I’m glad you seem a little more...relaxed. Ah...But you’re still a little tense...I wonder if we should touch each other more...?”

He cups your cheek.

“Whenever you do this to me...I always feel really relieved...So I figured you might feel the same...How is it?”

You tell him it feels nice.

“Fufu~ I’m glad...Then, next up...Mmh.”

*Smooch*

You get flustered.

“Hehe~ You twitched just now...Hm. Seems like you’re gradually relaxing...Also the scent of your blood...has grown sweeter. Does it feel...good, perhaps? Oh. Right. If you feel good, you’ll no longer be bothered by the specimen, right...?”

*Rustle*

“Say...I’ll suck your blood. If I do that, you don’t have to worry about a thing...”

You seem a little worried. 

“Don’t worry...Leave it to me. Mmh...”

Azusa bites you.

*Gulp*

*Sluuuurp*

“Haah...Mmh...Your blood is...extremely delicious. Say, do you feel good now?”

You don’t respond.

“What’s the matter? Was this...simply not enough? Hm...Hehe. However, you’re enraptured. Your cheeks are flushed and...you’ve got that dreamy look in your eyes. Haah...I wonder why you are this cute?”

You quickly cover your face with both hands.

“Oh...Why would you hide your face? I want to...see it.”

You explain.

“It’s...embarrassing? Hm...There’s really no reason to conceal it though. But...If you don’t want to, I won’t force you...You can keep your hands there, okay? I’ll suck your blood from here...”

He bites you again.

*Sluuuuurp*

“...Haah...Such sweet noises...Even though you said it’s embarrassing...You actually wanted me to do this...right? Hehe. I’ll bite other places too...”

*Sluuuuurp*

*Gulp gulp*

“Mmh...Hah...Haah...Oh. You no longer...need to hide your face? Has your mind...gone blank?”

You nod.

“Fufu~ I’m glad that’s the case. ...Your body has...stopped shivering as well, it seems...I wanted to do this for your sake but...I ended up getting a little too into it as well. Hm...The wounds aren’t deep so I’m sure the bleeding has stopped already...”

Azusa takes a deep breath.

“The whole room’s filled with the scent of blood now, huh...? It might be good that there’s...no other Vampires here. If someone else was around, it might have lead to trouーー”

A sudden gust of wind can be heard.

“O-Oh...? Ah...What was that just now...? The sound of the wind...? It kind of sounded like someone...crying?”

You tell Azusa you don’t like being here.

“...M-Mmh...Guess we should take our leave soon...? It might have...stopped raining by now. Let’s head back up.”

*TIMESKIP*

*Creaaaak*

“Ugh...Oh? Huh? We ended up in a...different room? Did we take...a wrong turn?”

Azusa steps into the room.

“It’s better lit than the other rooms...There’s a canvas and art supplies...Everything’s all over the place. ...Seems like this isn’t an exhibition room. There’s no specimen either, so don’t worry. Say...This might be a working space? Oh...If that’s the case...We might get scolded for entering without permission, right? Let’s quickly leave. It’d be troublesome if...we were to stain something important...”

He bumps into something while turning around.

*Thud*

*Flip*

“...Aah! Oh...I dropped them...S-Sorry...!”

Azusa kneels down to pick up the papers and so do you.

“Ah...Thank you for helping me...”

The two of you pick up the drawings.

“I guess we’ve got them all now...?”

*Flip*

“Oh...These were drawn with...pencil, I suppose? What a beautiful person...It’s the same woman portrayed on all of them. I’m sure she was...someone very important.”

T/N: From this point onwards, I will be putting fake Azusa’s dialogue between ( ) and changing the font to bolded italics. This CD has both the real and the fake Azusa interacting with you and each other, so hopefully that will make it a bit easier to tell them apart.

( Exactly. She was important. )

“...E-Eh?”

( To me, she was irreplaceable.... )

“...!? W-Who are you...? Where are you...!?”

( Right here. Look at the wall. )

“Oh? ...Huh? My...portrait? Are you the one...who talked just now?”

( That’s right. Nice to meet you, dear visitors. Ah. I suppose it would be rude to introduce myself from within the canvas. )

The fake Azusa steps out of the frame.

( ...Uhm, let me greet you one more time. Nice to meet you, dear visitors. Welcome to the museum. )

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

[peachyteabuck]

slaughterhouse // bucky barnes x reader

summary:   “ Slaughter it in the Lord’s presence at the entrance to the tent of meeting. Take some of the bull’s blood and put it on the horns of the altar with your finger, and pour out the rest of it at the base of the altar. Then take all the fat on the internal organs, the long lobe of the liver, and both kidneys with the fat on them, and burn them on the altar. But burn the bull’s flesh and its hide and its intestines outside the camp. It is a sin offering.” - exodus 29:11-14

or, the real story of how the winter soldier lost his arm

pairing: winter soldier!bucky x reader

words: 2,035

trigger warnings: heavy gore, explicit references to propaganda use, smut, snuff films, sub!bucky, use of restraints and suicidal thoughts, extreme dehumanization, allusions to breeding 

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

A woman Soldat had never seen and likely would never see again stood confidently in front of him as she delivered the news. Every member of Hydra (at least, the ones that joined willingly) had the same stance – chest out, shoulders back, face blank. None of them needed emotions because the organization felt for them, so their mouths only twisted themselves into smiles when another pro-America politician ate a bullet.

He listened diligently as he could, watching her with eyes long gone dead. The scientist coat she wore – branded with the Hydra insignia – was freshly laundered, covering most of her shapeless black bodysuit. It was the standard bulletproof one all agents wore, including Soldat.

“If we want to form a successful regime,” she explained, “Propaganda is necessary. Simply relying on the organization itself to crumble is a short-sighted approach. Do you understand?”

Soldat nodded, grumbled something akin to a “yes” as he traced the cracks in the cinderblock wall behind her. He had made them, there was no need to map them out once more, but it gave him something to look at besides the middle-aged scientist in front of him – so he continued.

“And, given you’re the most successful case of bodily rejuvenation with the serum,” she paused for a moment, waiting until Soldat’s eyes met her own. “We need you to step up and help Hydra.”

His brow furrowed. Hadn’t he already done enough? He’d given up his freedom, his life, his will to live…what else would this place possibly take from him!?

The woman shook her head and sighed to herself. “Perhaps I’m not explaining myself correctly…”

The guard, who had been silent enough Soldat had forgotten about him, stepped forward. His finger never left its resting place on his weapon and held it close to him as he spoke. Soldat knew for a fact that the man spoke at least ten languages – but somehow his English remained heavily accented and broken in the typical Eastern European style he’d come to know quite well. “We need common man. Common man watch porn. We make porn. You star in porn. Get it?”

Soldat narrowed and his fingers gripped the steel bedframe he was sitting on. He heard the distinct creak of metal bending as he did so. In his own black bodysuit, he felt his cock hardening at the proposition. It had been, what? Months? Years? Decades? Since he buried himself in a tight, hot cunt. Surely this offer was too good to be true – they wouldn’t just film him fucking some snatch and leave it at that…

But he knew, even if there was some weird catch, he wouldn’t have a say in whether or not he had to abide.

So Soldat – all 200 pounds of him – gives a small shrug. The woman seemed relieved. The guard seemed to not care very much either way.

“Good,” the woman says with bated breath, turning to her colleagues. She addresses them with the same tentative, small voice, as if she’s ashamed of what she’s saying. “Go prep the room, I’ll meet you there once it’s done.”

The rest of them, all except the guard, give her a single nod as she exits, waiting for her footsteps to fall out of earshot before they leave. Soldat and the single man are left alone, then, staring at each other with equally bored expressions.

It’s a while – an hour or so, maybe – when the guard gets a radio transmission, a crackly voice speaking Russian requesting for “the transfer of the Soldat to room 4527BW.” The Soldat has never heard of the room – the letters indicating its location in the west wing of the basement with numbers telling him it’s in the part of the Hydra base even the Soldat hasn’t been to. He’s heard murmurings of it, of words like Americans and genes and perfect human male. He remembers overhearing two younger, female scientists giggling about what he was packing, which didn’t make much sense to him. He never had to pack anything, he wore the same clothes the entire mission and guns were either strapped to him or handed to him by a Hydra operative.

No matter his confusion, the Soldat follows the guards to the room previously mentioned on the radio, obediently laying down on a medical table that was slightly wider than what he was used to. He lays there, silently, as he’s strapped down with the special material Hydra had made specially for him. An IV is attached to his left arm by a nurse he’d never seen before, the fluid flowing into his veins soon making everything below his shoulder feel…heavy, somehow.

The same nurse takes out a pen, moves it close to him, and asks him if he can feel that.

Soldat shakes his head once. Then the nurse disappears, and all the ceiling lights go off except one; one single, bright bulb that illuminates the doorway he had walked through just a few minutes prior.

Someone yells “актион!,” and then someone else walks through the door.

He’d seen you before, Soldat realizes as you step into the low lighting. You were, are, a scientist – the one who checks him out every so often after a particularly hard mission. Each visit was never as bad as he’d come to expect from the others; you and your clipboard and your perfectly sharpened pencil were somehow kinder to him in the minutes it took to jot down any external injuries that the others subjected to the serum could suffer. The healing process was documented thoroughly as well, his bruises and broken bones and stab wounds measured and noted on a chart he assumed you had stacks of copies of in your office. He imagines you pulling one off of the large pile each time you were notified he had returned from his “danger-cations,” as you called them. You always said it with a small smile, one Soldat always attempted to mimic once he had left.

The large men, the even larger guns, the numerous cameras and the noises all the objects quickly turn into background noise as you step closer, clad in a skintight dress that makes Soldat’s mouth go dry.

If this was many, many years ago (how many, exactly, he couldn’t tell) he might’ve delivered some smooth line about wanting to take you out on a date, maybe ask you what a good dame like you was doing in a place like this. Maybe he’d give you a nice half-smile and lean against the wall, do something else smooth and flirty.

It’s been a long time since Soldat was like that, since he had that instinct that made him so good with women. All of that melted away the first time he was thawed, revealing some bare canvas for Hydra to paint whatever it is they wanted him to be over his cold, hard skin.

So now he was laid bare, his legs spread out and his arms tied straight out, kept in place by the mythical metal everyone keeps talking about – the thing that makes that dastardly Captain America’s shield so legendary. You clicked them into place just before he was given the cue to keep quiet, shoving a single thin finger between his wrist and the slowly warming material. For a moment, Soldat did not understand why you were doing it and tensed with the anticipation of what was he thought would be a sedative or worse. None of the millions of scenarios that ran through his head included you looking down at him with wide, attentive eyes and asking if the cuffs were too tight.

Soldat just laughed dryly. “What would you do if they were?”

You didn’t respond, just turned back to ask something from a superior that Soldat didn’t bother listening to.

Somewhere between you walking away (and his eyes flitting down to the short hemline of that black dress) and you returning (and his eyes flitting up to the deep neckline of that black dress), you had discarded the matching lace panties that dropped them onto the center of Soldat’s face.

The fabric is soft, softer than anything Soldat had felt in years. He can smell you, too, the deep, heady scent snapping him back to the reality he had been attempting to distance himself from.

“You like that?” you coo, nails now painted some deep red as they trail across his chest. All Soldat does is gulp, his nonverbal actions met by a slap and you grabbing his jaw and forcing his eyes to meet yours. “Answer me.”

“Yes!” He gasps out, voice thick and broken from lack of use.

“Yes, what?” you scream, your face so close to his he can feel the fake rage that settles over your skin.

It takes all of Soldat’s power not to lean forward and kiss you – using all his willpower to keep his body flat on the table instead of wrapping himself around you. “Yes, Mistress!”

You smile and the Soldat swears he feels proud of himself for the first time he can remember.

“Now stay perfectly still, and only speak when spoken to, and maybe I’ll reward you…” your words feel like silk against the man’s skin, soft against his scars and burns and marred flesh.

He nods and keeps himself static, watching as you hike your dress up just enough to reveal your bare pussy. If the Soldat was given permission he’d moan and tell you it’s the most beautiful cunt he’s ever seen; but he wasn’t, so he just watches you with desperate, wide eyes as you climb onto the table he’s strapped to, and then onto him.

You mount him with a look of disgust painted on your face – a single raised brow and bared teeth making Soldat’s cock jump inside of you.

“It’s always a dirty Russian,” you hiss as you slap him again. “Poking around in places you know you shouldn’t be.”

“I-I’m sorry,” he stutters. “I’m so sorry!”

A smirk paints itself across your face. “You want to impregnant me, don’t you? You want to pump me full of you, want to make me round with your children?”

The Soldat, finally, moans out a “Yes! Mistress, yes!” as you tighten around him, the feeling making his head spin.

“But first,” you reach down while the Soldat’s eyes remain trained on your hands. A large knife – one larger than the one he carries but the same shape – is pulled from the holster on your thigh, previously covered by the fabric of your dress. “We need to get you into proper form.”

Still inside of you, the Soldat is too focused on the feeling of you around him to notice the blood dripping down from the table, or the cuff’s heavy metal latch being undone, or the loud THUD of something hitting the cement ground. He feels none of it – too pumped full of hormones and whatever else Hydra mixed into the clear bang hanging from the pole next to him to care at all about that you were doing. As long as he could feel your velvet walls around his aching cock…you could do anything to him, and he’d thank you profusely.

“You going to cum in me, Russian?” your voice is breathy, satisfied. “You going to fill me up with your dirty Russian cum?”

It doesn’t take much longer before the Soldat comes the hardest he ever has, screaming louder than an airplane at takeoff as his thrusts become harder, deeper before he stills at his very peak.

“Oh, Иисус Христос,” he moans, the arm that’s left moving to cup your face. His thumb moves to swipe at your bottom lip and you leave a kiss there, smiling blissfully. Soldat’s vision darkens just as he finds the energy to smile back.

“I love you,” he whispers, knowing he’s fading fast. It’ll be his last words – and he’s okay with that.

“I love you, too,” you tell him in an equally low voice, the reply music to his ears as the world falls apart around him. It’s the first time he’s felt at peace for years, he quickly realizes. Somehow, it’s not as pathetic as he thinks it should be.