#stare at a blank canvas for 30 minutes challenge accepted

[kaiserouo]

Soul Silencer Ghost

[thestyleswritings]

Sweet Tooth

"So, why is it you're here?" You ask the brunette casually after taking a breath. Trying to play it cool by leaning back in your seat, nearly tipping yourself off of it. Luckily for you, the boy seems to have good reflexes, catching your arm before you could embarrass yourself further.

"Careful there, love. You'll hurt yourself." He says in a raspy baritone voice, steadying you before continuing, "I'm here because I've got a sweet tooth that can sometimes get me into trouble."

Or - The one where you meet Harry at the dentist’s office and things get sticky.

(4.3K) 

Warnings: Language, Smut

"You know you have to go to the dentist eventually, right?" Your friend Maggie chastises, fully aware of how truly dental-phobic you are and have always been.

 "I understand... But what if I just floss really well? Do I still have to go? Surely it cancels out." You try to negotiate with her, even though you know you'll just end up in the chair either way.

 "You're ridiculous, you know. Your appointment is at 4 and you'll be there whether you like it or not." Maggie rolls her eyes at you, turning her attention back to the flatscreen adorning the wall in her living room.

 "Think of it this way," she starts, sipping the iced coffee she had all but forgotten about, "the hygienist might be really hot."

 "Yeah, the 50-year-old woman that cleans my teeth is a dime." You snort, gathering your coat and bag before standing.

 "Anyways, I'd better be off. Wouldn't want to be late to my execution." You say over your shoulder, already halfway to the door. You only hear a scoff, but you assume if you turned to face your friend, you would've seen her roll her eyes at your dramatic tendencies.

—

 The train ride to the dentist's office did not take nearly as long as you'd hoped it would, leaving you with 30 minutes to spare before 4 came around. You saw this as either an opportunity to go window shopping very quickly or to sit in the waiting room to try and get comfortable with the atmosphere. You knew it was a bit ridiculous to be afraid to go to the dentist alone at the age of 21, but it was a legitimate fear for you! You'd been knicked as a child one too many times and it stuck with you ever since.

 By the time you decided to go upstairs, the waiting room was full of children, adults and elderly people. You didn't even know where to start looking for a seat. Your eyes scanned for a seat that wasn't directly next to someone, especially not the mum with vomit on the shoulder of her shirt, but alas there was no such luck. The only seat that semi appealed to you was directly next to a young man with messy brown hair - probably not far off your age - and he was so handsome, it made you nervous. He wore tan corduroy pants that were almost reminiscent of bellbottoms, a baby blue and white pinstriped button-up with the sleeves about a quarter of the way rolled up beneath a navy coloured cotton sweater vest that had what appeared to be sheep laced on the torso. The coat you assumed he wore here was shoved between himself and the armrest, one long sleeve perched on the chair aside him. He wore glasses low on the bridge of his nose, legs crossed and brows furrowed as he read, idle hand resting atop one of his black Vans. You squinted to see the cover of the book, seeing that it was Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami, one of your favourites. You wonder if it's also one of his, or if he's a first-time reader, but the thought is fleeting; your subconscious prying cut off by movement from the subject.

 He could probably feel your gaze on his figure, causing his eyes to snap up from the book perched in his lap to lock directly with your own. It's almost like he could feel how uncomfortable you were, standing off to the side next to the coat rack and magazine table. Almost like he couldn't help himself from asking you to sit down wordlessly by moving his long dark coat from drooping onto the seat beside his very own, then faintly nodding to it.

 You could feel your throat swell as you walked to him, praying to any god willing to listen that you wouldn't trip on your own feet or snag your knee on the coffee table. You were notorious for being a bit clumsy. You noticed, as you got closer, the intensity of his stare. The green of his eyes nearly causing your breath to catch at the back of your throat.

 Taking a seat, you move your canvas bag to your lap before slightly facing him. You didn't know the proper etiquette for things like this. Should you have just ignored him after you sat, or do you carry on with a conversation? You raise your gaze once again to look him in the eyes, and unlike moments earlier, he had already been looking at you. Your bottom lip gets caught beneath your upper front teeth, biting the soft flesh to keep in a gasp. He was truly a specimen up close, and you wanted nothing more at that moment than the ability to freeze time, just to get a longer look at him without being caught.

"So, why is it you're here?" You ask the brunette casually after taking a breath. Trying to play it cool by leaning back in your seat, nearly tipping yourself off of it. Luckily for you, the boy seems to have good reflexes, catching your arm before you could embarrass yourself further.

 "Careful there, love. You'll hurt yourself." He says in a raspy baritone voice, steadying you before continuing, "I'm here because I've got a sweet tooth that can sometimes get me into trouble."

 He must know how that sounded.

 "I'm uh, I'm just here for a cleaning and some x-rays." You wince at the words that pass your lips, cringing at the thought that soon someone would come and call your name, leading you into that room which has a smell you nary forget.

 The boy laughs, clearly both hearing and seeing your distaste at the thought. You forego being annoyed at his mocking and leap straight to intrigue. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the faint scrunch of his nose, the way his head tilted just the slightest bit backwards. It all pulled you in and refused to let you go.

 "Tha's not too bad, y'know. I have to get one of my teeth drilled into." He says like it's just a minor inconvenience. You can practically feel the blood drain from your face. Drill!? Like a fucking construction site!?

 He laughs again, this time shaking his hair away from his eyes afterwards. "I have a cavity. I told you, the sweet tooth gets me into trouble." He tells you, and you could swear he winked.

 "I thought you were using a pun as a pickup line." You say before you can stop yourself, preparing yourself for him to look back at you like you were some delusional weirdo.

 "It might've had a dual purpose, yeah." He smirks, a deep dimple making itself known on the side of his face. As if he could become more attractive. It almost makes you want to roll your eyes.

 "Alright. So, the book. You enjoying it? It's one of my favourites." You tell him, gesturing towards the book, now closed.

 "Weird way to phrase it. The book is kinda dark, wouldn't you say?" He counters, resting his elbow on his knee before placing his palm on his face. Fully engaging you in conversation now.

 "Hell yeah. But it's so beautifully written and so gripping. Is this your first read?" You wonder aloud.

 "I keep it on rotation. The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion and Marie Kondo's The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up seem to wind up in that rotation too. Sometimes I throw in Love Is A Mixtape from Rob Sheffield if I'm feeling particularly mushy. You?" He tugs his lip in thought, awaiting your reply.

 "I love Marie Kondo. She's the only reason I keep my apartment tidy. I love basically any book, but I keep It's Kind of A Funny Story on my bedside table at all times. I'm drawing a blank right now, but my bookshelf gets proper attention, I swear." You laugh, triggering his own to bubble up from his throat.

 "So wha's your name, sweetheart?" He asks, and you nearly don't tell him. The sound of the nickname falling from his lips is too tempting to ignore.

 "Mhm... You first." You challenge, squinting as if daring him to inquire again before answering you.

 "M'Harry. Friends call me H. You can call me when I get outta here at 5:30 to have coffee at my place." He smiles. You'd usually get up and sit somewhere else, with the puke stained mum for instance, but your legs won't allow it. And why should they? What's the problem with entertaining this pretty, pretty man?

 "I preferred the sweet tooth comment, personally, but I won't prosecute you for that stinker." Playfully tutting before actually telling him your name. He says it under his breath as if testing the way it felt on his tongue before smiling again.

 “Well, I wasn’t joking, I’d actually like to have you over for coffee if you’d like. I promise I’m not a weird pervert. I can even tell my roommate to come home early if it makes you feel better.” Harry fumbled with his words, further endearing you. You snort a laugh at his phrasing before nodding your head.

“You don’t have to call your roommate, I’m sure you’re not a murderer. Anyway, my friend has my location on so she’ll know exactly where to send the cops in the event I turn up missing.” You gest, nudging his forearm with your elbow.

—

 You didn't know how you'd ended up in this situation. In the hour and a half it took for Harry's appointment to be completed, you walked around aimlessly talking to Maggie- or frantically shouting if you asked Maggie- about what steps to take from here. You had actually been so caught up in this whole "date" ordeal that the teeth cleaning breezed by. She snorted a laugh at your obvious hesitation, knowing this wasn't very "you". You weren't usually the type to even accept compliments, but here you were, ready to risk it all for a man you'd met a mere 120 minutes ago.

 "But what if he's a player? What do I do then?" You'd asked, answered yet again with a snort.    "You fuck him and forget it. It happens all the time. It's just a bit of good fun." Maggie reassured you. To her, a casual 6 o'clock shag was nothing out of the ordinary.    Pacing around Fifth Avenue, you awaited a text. A simple "hey" to set your anxieties through the roof. Anything. You just wanted to be out of your misery already.    It wasn't like you'd never done this before, or even that you'd only done it a handful of times, but something about the prospect of hooking up with a boy from your dentist's office felt strange. Did people meet their soul mates this way, or was this really an odd thing? Don't people usually meet in clubs and bars? There's hardly anything sexy about having your teeth scraped and drilled into. Maybe you could spin an innuendo out of that if you tried. The moment your phone buzzed, you couldn't help the squeal that passed your lips.

H 127 W4th Street, Apartment 3F

—

 You'd only gone over for a coffee and a chat, honestly. So how you ended up with Harry's lips attached to your neck, you hadn't the fuzziest clue. If you were being honest, it was more on you than him.

 "So you've got a sweet tooth." You say, smirking from behind the brim of the mug as you watched him take a sip from his own.    "Ah, the rumours are true." He tuts, taking a sip of the black coffee.

 "But your coffee is black, and you didn't put any sugar in it." You point out, deadpan.

 "Doesn't mean I'm not naughty sometimes." He's talking about the sugar, you know he is. But his eyes are telling you he wants to go further into the discussion. Taunting, almost.

 "Prove it."

 So that's how you'd ended up here, really. With your fists scrunching up his baggy striped shirt, both of your breath becoming shallower and shallower as your lips smacked together. He had taken off the vest before you'd arrived, you noticed in your slight haze. His kisses trailed from your lips to your cheek, from your cheek to your jaw, then your neck. Each touch of his wet lips leaving a lingering buzz to your skin. He pulled away from your neck momentarily, breathing heavily before biting onto his own bottom lip.

 "You wanna...?" Harry trailed off, chest rising and falling noticeably, lips shining under his dim room light. You saw his eyes flick towards a door to the left of you both. You could feel your heart drop to your stomach, or rather, beneath your bellybutton. You know the feeling well. At that moment, you decide to throw caution to the wind. Who's to say this wasn't the time to sew your wild oats, so to speak?

 "You asking if I want a shag?" You smirk back at him. He really wasn't as scary as he seemed at first. He actually seemed to be your equal; nervously navigating life with a bit of sarcasm and a dash of wit.

 "You're mad. But yes." Harry laughs in bemusement. Perhaps he had pegged you for shier than you appeared now. Not that he'd complain.

 The two of you stand, Harry quickly grabbing your hand and placing a kiss on your knuckles before pulling you towards the closed door.

 "I er- obviously wasn't expecting a bird over after the doctors visit, so my rooms in shambles at the moment, sorry." He admits sheepishly. You just raised one shoulder in a shrug in response, giggling at the way his cheeks dusted rosy pink and the way he pronounced the word obviously. Obvioushry.

 Stepping inside, you see that he was massively overexaggerating. There were a few fun coloured tops on the ground in a heap, accompanied by another small pile of trousers and jeans. Clearly, he'd meant to do the washing up when he came home, but not everything always goes according to plan. You certainly didn't expect this either.

 Your thoughts are instantly placed aside as you felt two strong hands on either of your hips and the steady stream of breath upon your neck, soft lips dragging along the surface there. You roll your head to the side to grant him more of a canvas to paint his wet kisses, subtly pushing your behind into him. The groan that vibrates your skin tells you that he felt it. More gracefully than you'd ever be able to manage, your top is removed from your body by the man behind you in a flash.

 "Le's get comfortable, yeah? You'll be here a while." The gruff tone of his voice so near to your ear excites you, sending a shiver down the column of your spine. As you sit on his bed, you raise your gaze to observe him. A tall, gangly thing, but somehow solid and muscular simultaneously. His nimble fingers are quick to undo the buttons of the shirt adorning his torso, revealing intricate artwork penned on his skin. From where you sat, you could see two birds, a butterfly and a birdcage. You wondered what moved him to get these particular pieces.  

"You'll have to excuse me if 'm a bit rubbish, it's been ages," Harry laughs pathetically, capturing his bottom lip once again beneath his endearingly large front teeth. You don't even get a moment to react as he lunges forth, cementing your lips together in a harsh kiss that does little to undo the ball of tension you've felt building since you'd arrived. You feel the weight of his groin pressed against your own, slowly rocking back and forth, side to side. The pressure is delicious and you can't remember the last time you'd felt this exhilarated thanks to another person.

 His lips detach from your own again, opting to kiss your exposed chest instead, grabbing the cup of your bra before looking to you with pleading eyes. Begging to see you in nothing but his embrace. The granting nod of your head is slight, but he notices. He pulls the cup down with no trouble, laying the thick of his tongue against your areola, lapping it around the area like he was trying to lick up all the frosting from a cupcake.

 You felt dizzy as he began to suck on it, a moan being ripped from the pit of your chest. The noise seemed to spur Harry on, biting down softly before kissing down from your chest to your midsection, only stopping to peer up at you. Making sure you were still all in and just as eager as he was. The rational part of your brain knew where he was trailing his kisses. You knew he fully intended to put his mouth to good use, but it didn't stop your mind from the nervous thoughts it was producing.

 "You want me to prove I've got a sweet tooth, angel? I'll prove it to ya," Harry says, breath shallow in pure excitement. If the situation weren't so filthy, you'd think it wholesome. A kiss is pressed to your upper thigh, causing your muscles to clench and your breathing to halt. You could feel each breath that passed through his nostrils, washing over the delicate plush skin it hit.

 Harry took not a second to prepare for you, instead just peeling the pink lace from your behind and tossing them to the corner of his room. He stopped your legs from closing, taking a moment to peer between your legs where you were no doubt dripping for him. You'd be embarrassed if you weren't so eager, but from the way his nostrils flare and his eyes darken, you can tell he may not mind it.

 "Looks sweet, y'know," he breathes, warm breath now coating you in the most sinfully delightful way. You look down at him fast enough to catch his tongue leave his mouth to find your centre, immediately causing your body to tense. He started slowly at first, giving you a deep kiss between your legs before beginning to stroke his tongue against your clit in quick succession. It was mind-blowing, how quickly you felt yourself unravel. Your eyes wanted to clench shut desperately, but your mind wouldn't allow it. You couldn't possibly tear your eyes from the sight of the lower half of Harry's face pressed flat against your aching cunt, licking sucking and nibbling to his heart's content. His strong hands gripping your hips in an attempt to steady your rocking body. Your moans picked up with his rhythm, hand sneaking down to grasp his long locks between your fingers.

 "Harry, ungh, I'm gonna, uh! Fuck," you cried, tried warning him of your imminent end, but your voice just wouldn't allow it. You could faintly feel Harry moving the mattress with his quick ruts to the bed in search of some form of release, groaning and moaning against your sensitive skin.

 "C'mon then, lovie. Tastes so good, want more," He coaxes, voice deeper than it had been when he'd spoken earlier. He shook his tongue against you, releasing one of his hands from your hip to slide a finger into you, curving once he'd buried it as far as you'd permit. He removed it before twirling it back in, swivelling it in a circular motion and repeating. The combination of his wicked tongue, finger and moans had you coming to your end and had Harry lapping it up like a dog in heat.

 "God! Harry," You moaned loudly, holding tighter onto his hair. You knew you ought to ease up a bit, but he continued driving his finger in and out of you, nearly making you lose your mind. He was groaning against you, tongue never letting up until you'd finally had enough, pulling your legs together and pushing his head away.

 "Told ya I have a sweet tooth. I reckon I'll have you over at least once a week, if you'll let me." He smirks cheekily from the end of the bed, swiping the back of his hand across his chin to rid himself of your slick. For the first time in a long time, you were speechless. Instead of speaking, you reach down to grab at his shoulder, weakly attempting to pull him up the bed. He chuckles at your feeble try, accommodating you by dragging himself up to your face, kissing your nose gingerly.

 "Please Harry, I-" You didn't want to seem desperate, but at the moment, you felt terribly empty and you wanted him to just get on with it. You could feel the heavy length of him sat right on your clit, the corduroy material of his pants giving a certain friction that was fulfilling, but not entirely.

 "M' mouth wasn't enough, pet? Want more? Want me to stuff ya full?" He murmurs the filthy words against your skin, nipping at it every once in a while. You nod so vigorously he's afraid your head will fall to the ground. With another deep chuckle, he places a soft kiss to the crown of your head as he reaches to his bedside table for a condom.

 "Sure about this? I can just wank off if you don't wanna," Harry reassures her, fidgeting with the foil packaging. You can't help but press a firm kiss to the beauty mark by his lip, giggling at his words.

 "Yeah, I'm sure. Don't make me beg for it." You plead, fully aware that you'd beg in a heartbeat if it meant you could see this pretty boy in such a vulnerable state. He didn't have to know that, though.

 He nodded before unwrapping the plastic sheath, unravelling it on himself before giving himself a few purposeful tugs. The tension of his bicep and the soft grunts causing you to ache for him. He guides himself down to where he knows you're ready to take him, locking eyes with yours once more before shoving his hips forward. He didn't stop until he was bottomed out, heavy balls resting atop your behind. The initial push had you both reeling; clenched eyes and furrowed brows as you both adjusted to the new feeling. You'd never been with anyone bigger, and he could've sworn he'd never felt such a warm, wet, inviting cunt in his life. He could've blown his load right then.

  "God, princess. You've got the tightest little pussy, haven't you?" He was egging you on, wanting you to become more vocal. Dying to hear the strain in your voice, fully fucked out. You whimper in reply, jutting your hips up into his to get him to move. Your motion caught him off guard, causing the muscles in his stomach to become taught as he groaned.

 "Gotta warn a lad if you're gonna move, lovie. Nearly nutted off." Harry breathed a laugh before pulling his hips back halfway, slowly inching himself back in. You'd never felt such pleasure from such minimal movement, but the way he was digging into you had you breathless in no time.

 "Good, so so good," you panted out, gripping his shoulders tightly as if you'd float away otherwise. Both of your bodies were working together like a well-manufactured machine, pushing and pulling in the best ways.

 "Yeah? You like it slow, then? Like it when you can feel me here?" Harry boasted, pressing his large palm on your tummy just below your belly button. The next thrust he delivered made you scream out involuntarily, backing up towards the top of the bed. You hadn't expected to feel him brush against the palm of his own hand, but the added pressure set you off, rolling your eyes backwards and crying out in pure bliss.

 "Fuck, keep sayin' my name, lovie. Neighbours'll hear me giving you a proper fucking shag," He groaned, picking up the pace minutely, holding onto your hip with his free hand. "Don't run from it, darlin, take me. Fucking feel me," you could tell he was losing himself, slowly beginning to babble incoherently. You felt a surge of arousal at the fact you had this stranger in such a state.

 "Harry, I'm gonna fucking come again," you moaned loudly, upon his request but mainly because you really couldn't help yourself. Your moans were becoming higher pitched and more frequent, and you could tell it was feeding Harry's ego very well, fueling his own end.

 "Yeah? G'na come for me again? G'na let me feel it?" He grunted, bottoming out and swivelling his pelvis atop your own, pubis rubbing against your already overstimulated clit. That, in combination with his gruff voice and the sweat dripping off his own body onto yours, finished you off, clenching your core down onto his stiff prick deep within you, throwing your head back in defeat. You let the overwhelming pleasure course through your veins, bucking your hips blindly into his and mutter his name repeatedly.

 Seeing your beautiful face screwed up in pleasure whilst you whined and moaned that he was so good really did Harry in. In fact, a particularly filthy cry of his name is what did it for Harry, spewing all the spunk he was worth into the latex. His body folded, narrowly missing your body as he collapsed onto his Queen sized mattress, a sweaty and exhausted mess.

It took the pair of you a couple of minutes to catch your breath before either of you spoke. You thought he may never say anything, but as he lifted his head from your breasts to make eye contact with you, you smirked.

 "Think I can convince you to stay the night?" He asked dreamily, a glint in his eye. And really, how could you refuse?

--

This is my first published work, so please be kind to her!! I worked on it for quite a while, so feedback is always appreciated!

[sashaloriene]

The Manifestation of 3

As I sit in my apartment surrounded by my art, I realize I wear my heart on my sleeve. I'm constantly reminded that I insert pieces of me into each painting that hangs on my walls or tucks between my furniture, some more intentional than others. Organic experiences, stories, feelings, etc. Sometimes I wonder if they know who I really am, simple yet complex. I wonder if they know the questions about me are answered in my paintings. I wonder if they know the true meaning behind my creations.    My walls hold so many stories etched within each corner. I thought I'd share one - her name is "3." She started off as a sketch I completed at a bar in late-January. I met up with a friend to brainstorm ideas for an exhibit, which came to fruition as "The Collection" exhibit that March. I sat at the table, listening to Warm Winds by SZA feat. Isaiah Rashad on repeat, and let my hands do the work. I tuned out all the outside noise and about 30 minutes later, she was complete. I was pleased. The weeks passed and I never got the chance to paint her in time for the exhibit. I decided save her for another time because I don't like rushing paintings. For some reason, this sketch was one of my favorites. I had to save her for the perfect moment.

I decided that moment was in mid-June. That morning, I woke up needing to paint. It had been a month or so since my last painting. I started with the background, then the line work, then the face to tie her altogether. The finished product was okay, but not what I expected. I knew it wasn't my best work, but I couldn't put my finger on it. What did I miss? Was today not the right day? Did I force it? So many thoughts ran through my head until I accepted the painting for what she was, signing and dating the bottom right corner. Maybe she'd grow on me.

It wasn't until an outside opinion came into play. "Honestly, I don't like it at all. You're capable of better than this. I think you should just start over." I'm not going to lie, those words shocked and initially stung. No my painting didn't look like the sketch but also, no one's ever said that to me. The honesty was constructive criticism, something that I had asked for. Instead of shutting down, I listened and let it sink in. I reached for my last blank canvas, and set out to create a SZA portrait more in her likening. I wanted to prove to myself that I can produce better. She came out beautifully. One of my favorite abstract portraits to date.

Now that I created a piece in confidence, what was I to do with the initial painting? I decided not to rush her. Maybe that was my error the first time around. I said to myself, "she will sit and stare at me everyday until she inspires me to complete her." Little did I know a few stressors would uproot about a month later, prompting the assistance of a therapist to help sort out various pint-up issues. Naturally, I needed to express myself. After exhausting reckless and impulsive behaviors, I resorted to the only positive outlet I know he best, creating. I got the urge to paint again, more specifically, paint her. I saw shapes, patterns, and colors that I wanted to emulate on her. I painted accordingly and everything fell in place. She felt right. This felt good.

I was proud of her but had no idea what to name her. I noticed that she had many circles so I decided to count them an hopefully they would somehow add up to some combination of 11, my favorite number. Each combination I counted, gave me a 3. I tried big circles, small circles, circles with lines, etc. and still ended up with 3. So there it was, her name became "3." I immediately researched the angel number 3 and found this below:

"The meaning of angel number 3 is self-confidence. The angels are telling you that this is the time to demonstrate all the great things that you can do... Now is the time to share your talents with the world. Be open and receptive to new and vibrant energies. Pursuing your passion will bring you closer to your divine purpose. Take this opportunity to expand and grow your skills and knowledge. Get out of your comfort zone and do something unexpected and different... Your angels want your success as much as they want your happiness. Continuously challenging and surprising yourself is one way you can achieve that." - A more in depth analysis can be found here.    I needed that. I needed to paint 3 as a confirmation to myself that I didn't even realize. I tried to fit her into a different category and she refused. Ironically, she also gave me 3 timely and needed lessons below:

Don't complete/sign work that doesn't shock and amaze you. Never settle, especially in your work. Every piece you produce should make you feel good. There is no room for ambivalence.

Don't be afraid to start over and/or add to your pieces. Don’t limit yourself with an ultimate start and end. Allow yourself and your work to grow. This gives layers to the story.

Welcome honesty and constructive criticism about your work. Be mindful that not everyone is in the position to give it to you. It's important to know who and where to get it from. Trust will ensure that honesty and constructive criticism are packaged with good intentions. Both are necessary for growth.

In all, believe in yourself and your ability to create! You are astounding and your work should reflect that. Always trust your intuition and never second-guess yourself. Keep going!