#warning to comm artists

[weirdhasanxiety]

So. Hey, I’m back, just not with a drawing as per usual, apologies.

A warning to artists doing comms:

TL;DR: When doing comms, check email addresses, don’t forward any money before you’ve received any(or just don’t forward any at all), and ask for details of your commission to the commissioner.

I got scammed out of 200 USD on Instagram the other day.

I usually don’t do comms(because online money exchange is risky and I’m just not familiar with it), but a guy called Fred James(likely a randomly generated name) messaged me asking if I would be willing to do a drawing of his kid’s dog for 300USD.

I had some time, the guy’s dog was cute, and even after me saying ‘no, you don’t need to pay, I’ll just doodle something up for you’ multiple times he insisted, and me being the pushover I am I said ‘okay, I’ll open a PayPal’.

I did that, and he said he’d sent the 300 over. Then an email popped up, saying that for ‘verification’ the guy needed to send an additional 200 over and I needed to refund it to get my 300, and I actually did it.

I was panicking about this over on discord, and another artist who did comms pointed out that this might be a scam, and I double checked the email addresses. One from PayPal saying that I’d added a card to my PayPal, and the other saying that I needed to give the guy 200.

They were different(though very similar). It was a fucking scam.

I was angry, and I felt guilty over it for days.

Another email from the same fake address came the day after asking me to send an additional 300 over. I forwarded it to PayPal’s phishing address, deleted it and the other two fake emails, and just went to crochet to try and feel better about this whole shitshow.

I really hate how this guy took advantage of my unfamiliarity with commissions and PayPal, and because of this I doubt I’ll be doing any comms in the future, and my relatives(and my parents) have told me to take all my art off the internet, stop using social media and just… stop. With online art.

As seen with this post, I’m not going to do that, because I like sharing my art with people, and I’m not doing it for profit, anyways. I got greedy this time. I’ll not make that mistake again.

In hindsight, all the hints were there. When I asked the guy about what style he wanted, he didn’t answer. When I asked what his son’s name was, he didn’t answer. When I refused payment, he insisted, and he told me to give my name despite it being not necessary for PayPal transactions.

The fake emails he sent me had my name, and I know I’d given him my email as well, which is why the emails had my name and looked so official.

The emails’s images were all missing, too, and the copyright thing at the bottom said 20xx-2022. That’s another thing I missed.

I’m putting this out there, because I’ve checked my message requests on Insta, and there were two more people there asking ‘Do you do commissions?’, the exact same thing the scam guy asked me.

There’s nothing wrong with doing commissions. You do art for someone, you get paid, and that’s great!

But please, be careful. Check the addresses of your emails. Ask for commission details. Don’t send money to anyone before checking if it is legit.

(Unrelated to my particular case, but according to some friends, a lot of comm artists receive a percentage after doing the sketch, and the rest after they finish the final piece, to avoid getting scammed)

That’s all, I guess. And I did an initial doodle of the dog, too.

And to think I was so excited. I’m going to be terrified of doing comms, now, fuck.

Fuck you, scammers. Fuck you for taking advantage of us.

And fuck myself for not being careful enough.

[tk-sketches]

animated commission for brick-brooke! (character belongs to commissioner's friend)

[sourghostsoda]

Drew one of @feralpumpkincatgirl 's characters for a commission! Had a lot of fun with drawing him!

[maitaitiu]

was considering opening comms like this but it took so long to just do this (and i wanted them to have shading too..) that i dont think i will .but at least this is cute

[zer0notfound]

CW; Eye pulling!!

I was feeling a little silly and wanted to draw something of my Persona as a nice little break to keep myself from burnout. Z3R0G4L4XY is my official art thingy, so I made some silly stars and galaxy motifs

[kid-sid]

ARE COMMS OPEN?!?!?!?!

yeah

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

yes or no?, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader, slight yoongi x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook is distraught to know he can't jack off. After all, he spent all that money to complete his tattoo sleeve. He wasn't about to ruin all that hard work just for a quick nut. But it's going to take a while to heal. Days – no, weeks! – with no masturbating. Waaah! Why did he pick his right arm?! Thankfully, noona to the rescue... right? RIGHT?!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; slight crack b/c JK's POV; JK is whipped, welp; smut (fem reader, minor D/s dynamics, sexual fantasies, heavy petting / teasing, cock-and-ball torture, finger sucking, spit kink, handjob / m-masturbation, edging / orgasm denial, hair-pulling kink, nipple play, m-receiving oral, multiple orgasms, mentioned forearm kink); noona!reader; pleasure is JK-focused and JK's POV

'magic-8' ball noona is back! no need to read, just know there's a yoongi x reader x jk sex triangle and they're roommates :D

--

Jeon Jungkook was in pain, horny, and depressed.

On the plus side, his tattoo sleeve was almost completed!

Woohoo!

Sigh, no, he still felt like throwing himself into a wall and sliding down to become an unmoving puddle of goo. So tired. He always felt like this after the adrenaline of a long tattoo session. Session days were fun while he was in the studio hanging out with the tattoo artist, even for hours on end. He had brought his own snacks, plenty of water, and pain medication. The artist had even brought lunch for him – probably because Jungkook was spending a LOT of money covering up some old tattoos he ragretted regretted, but hey! Free food! Jungkook was always happy to receive free meat!

Wait. That sound weird.

Eh.

Anyway.

He sighed as he fumbled with his keys, trying to use his left hand as much as possible. Today, the artist had worked on his right forearm and filling in his elbow with black. The skin there was irritated and covered in plastic, which made it annoying to do common tasks he noticed. Great. Another day of not getting off. Yeah, Jungkook loved getting tattoos but it made him grumpy that he couldn’t just jerk off whenever he wanted.

What?!

It was a legitimate reason to be grumpy, dammit.

Why did Jungkook pick his right arm for his tattoo sleeve? Simple. He had no foresight and tattoos were permanent. Whoops. (He was not an idiot. Trust.) He finally got the key into the lock and turned it. His life wouldn’t be so hard (keke) if it wasn’t for his current living arrangements. To be clear, he really did love living in Kim Seokjin’s house full of his friends. There was just one problem. One very sexy problem.

He opened the door cautiously, wondering if he would hear moaning today.

Silence.

Whew.

The house smelled really good though. Like food. Mmmm. Food. Jungkook wandered in, loosely holding onto the strap of his large black bag and stepping out of his shoes, neatly settling them into their spot… to avoid getting scolded later. He was a good boy.

Sometimes.

The current residents of the home were: Kim Seokjin, the owner of the house, actor, and professional whaler in too many games; Kim Taehyung, a fashion model and close friend that had taken over Park Jimin’s spot after Jimin had moved out to work overseas for a while; Min Yoongi, a music producer and quite possibly sex on legs (Taehyung’s words, one had to be there for it to be funny); and the Magic-8 ball noona. The only girl. Also, she was, erm, part of a consensual sex triangle that Jungkook was a member of but he definitely didn’t start it.

Really…!

Anyway.

She had a real name but Jungkook was always going to remember that cursed hunk of plastic denying him twenty-six times. Besides, it was just easier to refer to her as noona since she was the one female and older than him. It was proper and polite. She was only by name when he was on his knees and begging to cum.

Cough.

Anyway!

He made his way into the kitchen carefully. It wasn’t unusual for the house to be fairly quiet as it was quite common for the introverts to split up and occupy themselves with their respective hobbies, especially when Taehyung went out with his friends. Jungkook vaguely remembered Taehyung saying he was going to a sauna with his squad or something like that. Seokjin was probably playing MapleStory in the master bedroom with his headphones on. Something about a new update. He wasn’t coming out unless to eat and even that would be rare. Yoongi and noona… well, they were either fucking or holed up in their respective rooms being creative.

Oh.

Yeah, did he mention the other part of this sex triangle was his sharp-witted, cat-eyed, resting-bitch-face-but-secretly-a-tsundere hyung? And the first place Jungkook witnessed Yoongi and her having sex was the kitchen he was about to walk into? His dick twitched every time he entered the kitchen because of it. He both felt guilty and became aroused by the wrongness of it. Then got more turned on when he remembered that he couldn’t masturbate tonight. Maybe he should just touch himself with his left hand to relieve some pressure. Or make it worse. On purpose.

Ugh, maybe he really was a masochist.

Jungkook rounded the corner and yelped when found himself cornered by his hyung and his noona glaring at him.

“Wah!”

“Oh, look who decided to show up,” his grumpy hyung grumbled.

“There you are,” his mischievous noona mused, waving about a ladle like it was a magic wand. “Sit down, sit down. You must be hungry after a long day.”

“Why didn’t you text? We ended up having dinner without you, hah,” Yoongi hmphed, poking Jungkook in the chest. The older male looked tired and overworked. One glance between the glowing, calm smile to Yoongi’s messy black hair sticking up in every direction. It was pretty clear what went down. RIP, hyung. His hyung was wearing an elegant black silk pajama shirt and matching pants with the waistband slightly askew. Red mark on the fair skin of his exposed collarbone.

Here? Or in her bed? Or in his bed? Or… mine so it smells just like them?

It was an irrelevant thought, as Jungkook rarely slept in his own bed despite having one. He had a bad habit unique quirk of falling asleep wherever he was, whenever he felt the need to sleep. This greatly annoyed Seokjin and made Taehyung laugh. Sometimes Jungkook would wake up with the latter guy sleeping on top of him like a handsome sloth. Just Taehyung things. But most times, Jungkook was in his noona’s bed.

Hey! It was a comfy bed.

Ahem.

Jungkook received another sharp poke and he jumped, stumbling as he was pushed to the kitchen island, extra startled as Yoongi wordlessly pulled out the seat for him. He got a what? look in response, complete with black strands falling over those narrowed dark brown eyes.

“Don’t you have to be careful about your arm, especially the first night?” Yoongi puffed. “Don’t get used to it.”

“O-Oh… yeah… t-thanks, hyung.”

Yoongi pretended not to hear and scooted himself towards the stove. She was standing next to a pot on low heat looking remarkably put together in red plaid pajamas. Jungkook plopped his butt onto the tall chair and put his bag on the other, yanking off his beanie. Ruffled his hair quickly to avoid his short black hair looking flat and dumb. He pretended like he wasn’t checking out the way her juicy butt completely filled out the pants and the way they clung to her lush hips. He pretended he didn’t notice that the top was relatively cropped and he could clearly see her amazing waist to ass ratio. He definitely didn’t say anything about how nice it was to see the beautiful curve of her neck due to the cute sheep-shaped claw clip collecting her hair back. And he surely didn’t go completely breathless when she turned around with a steaming bowl, suddenly realizing her pajama shirt was held together by only a single button in the center and she clearly wasn’t wearing a bra. There was a row of buttons; she just hadn’t done them up.

Fuck.

It was violently unfair that she was allowed to look this hot in normal clothes.

She leaned over the counter and placed the bowl in front of him. He could see down her shirt. Damn. Even through the flannel fabric, Jungkook could still see the peaks of her nipples if he really stared. Really, really stared. For maybe ten seconds.

He jumped at the clink of a metal spoon against ceramic.

“You should eat,” she said with an enigmatic smile. Gracefully balanced her chin on the back of her knuckles, her fingers fanned downwards, her elbows resting on the counter to look into his eyes.

Shit, he was smooth melting like butter under that hot gaze.

“Pick your jaw off the floor,” said a gruff voice in Daegu satoori.

Jungkook jolted as crabby Yoongi appeared seemingly out of nowhere – well, he was here the whole time, oop – and cocked an eyebrow at him. Now the older two were both standing side by side, observing him expectantly. It was only then that Jungkook looked down and realized what was in front of him.

“Wait… it’s not my birthday.”

She chuckled. Her eyes sparkled with mirth. Ugh, he loved seeing them directed at him. “Seaweed soup will be good after a long tattoo day. You need nutrients. You need energy. Plus, Yoongi added beef in there for you. There’s some rice too, but not too much because Yoongi said you don’t like having too many carbs before sleeping. More meat, as you like it,” she concluded, using the spoon to show him all the ingredients. “We made it for you. Eat.”

She smiled exactly how the Cheshire cat would grin. He glanced at Yoongi who was staring at his fingernails like they were the most interesting thing in the world. They stood close to each other. No mistaking their closeness. The worst (best?) part was that even though Jungkook knew exactly what had happened while he was gone all those hours, he didn’t find this scene offensive.

In fact, he felt a bit teary from their consideration.

“T-Thanks…”

He took the spoon from her, his inhale hitching as his fingertips brushed against hers. Oh, her hands. Those lovely hands. His gaze shifted up, his heart beating fast. The side of her lips tugged upwards.

A smile turned smirk.

His cock twitched as Jungkook remembered her smirking face grinning up at him with his cum drenched all over her tongue. The last time he had jacked off into her mouth.

Argh!

He had used his left hand, mostly because he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to do the repeated motion of bending his right arm and bringing the utensil to his mouth right now. Hmmmm. He scrunched up his face and wrinkled his nose. It probably wouldn’t be the best idea. He didn’t want to mess up the line work and all that nice color shading. He was already doing the cover ups, after all. Plus, it did hurt a little moving too much. He would just see how far he could get. It was pretty easy since it was soup and the pieces of beef were cut pretty small.

They must have thought of that.

Jungkook tried not to cry grateful tears into his seaweed soup as he heard his hyung and noona busy themselves with cleaning the kitchen, ‘cause that would be utterly embarrassing and not very manly, sniff.

Thankfully, he was saved by his rising boner.

The thing was, Jungkook was pretty sure he wasn’t turned on by pain. Ahem. Okay, maybe a little (lotta) bit. But, time and place! This was precisely why he picked a very cool and very talented male tattoo artist. He could ask questions and be noisy and immature and not feel bad. Jungkook liked female artists but he would get too mentally distracted because he didn’t really know what to talk about, so his mind would end up wandering to another set of hands and then, bam! A not useful boner. Also, he didn’t want to creep anybody out or make them uncomfortable. That would be mean.

But, uh.

Jungkook was beginning to realize he enjoyed and hated these long sessions. He enjoyed them because he very much considered his tattoo artist his friend. He enjoyed them because his close friends were supportive, bought him snacks, and told him he was cool or brave for getting so many tattoos (very important, yup). And, yeah, he liked the repeated stabbing (it was addictive, okay?!). But he also enjoyed them because of how attentive his noona was before and during the aftercare process. She helped him prepare his bag prior to the appointment, would make sure to remind him to keep the area hydrated, make him his favorite meals (meat!), and be the first to help him in case he needed it. As for the hate part…

Ugh, it made him so fucking horny knowing he couldn’t get off without her help.

Yeah, sure, he could use his left hand. But the nut would be pisslow awful and not at all satisfying. Of course, Jungkook could wait and use his right when he felt like it was fine but that wouldn’t be for a while. He didn’t spend all that money to have to explain that he wanted a touch-up because he needed to cum being around a literal sex goddess his noona (not to mention what a mortifying thing to say to his poor tattoo artist that didn’t need to know all that). And there was no way in hell Jungkook was going to avoid his noona during his recovery. She had just made him seaweed soup! Oh, yeah, and Yoongi was there too. Anyway, the forced waiting turned him on even more than usual because there was a real reason behind it. After his first long session, he even clumsily edged himself with his left hand, multiple times, before he asked her to get him off, just so it felt even better when her lips closed around his leaking, desperate cock.

Jungkook choked on some beef.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m – ack! – fine. Totally fine!” he managed to hack out in a very not-fine tone.

“You look like you’re choking,” Yoongi commented matter-of-factly, eerily similar to a narrator of a nature documentary.

“Be careful,” she laughed, coming around the counter to rub his back. Aaaah! Jungkook lifted his right arm slightly and tried to subtly punch his dick down into submission but, as it turned out, his erection was as stubborn as he was. Awesome. Not to mention space was very limited under the counter. Shit. She patted in between his shoulder blades. “Want some water?”

“No, hah, I’m f-fine,” he wheezed, freezing up a little at her touch. He thought he was used to it by now but he really wasn’t, especially when his dick was already halfway up the stairs to heaven. Down to hell to the circle of lust? Whatever. She wasn’t too close, as she was on his right side, but he had enough memories to know how skin-to skin felt, enough times of her breasts pressed to his back and her hands exploring his chest, enough moments of her agile fingers splayed out over his pecs like blooming flowers, running her nails over his skin, flicking his nipples, all the while tracing her tongue along the base of his neck with her hard nipples rubbing against his shivering back…

Okay.

Jungkook was not fine.

“It’s kinda warm…” he mumbled as she moved away.

“That’s because you’re still wearing your jacket and having hot soup,” Yoongi pointed out, putting away some bowls. “Take it off.”

“Want help?”

It was a very innocent suggestion. Thus, Jungkook spent the next minute trying not to reveal that he had popped a boner while eating seaweed soup, sitting up and sticking out his arms like a Ken doll, letting those dreamy, long fingers peel away his oversized white and black racer jacket. Left arm first, then the right, taking care to slide it off, the sleeve cocoon stripping back to reveal the beautiful butterfly that was his fresh, brightly inked right arm.

“Oh? That’s right, you were covering up some big tattoos today, huh?” Yoongi perked up, his raspy voice with a twinge of curiosity, padding over to investigate. Underneath the jacket, Jungkook had worn a closely fitted, white, ribbed tank top. Comfy but wouldn’t get in the way. “Ho, so much color. Quite rockstar of you. You’re become such a cool guy, heh.”

“I wanted the individual images to stand out more and the artist suggested adding some color,” Jungkook clarified, slurping away at his dinner again. “I just trusted him.”

“He did such a good job,” she was saying, delicately holding his hand. Jungkook tried not to melt into a puddle. “The gradient is fantastic. The text here looks cleaner too.”

“Oh, yeah, I asked him to clean up some of my older tattoos too. For consistency.”

He continued munching happily until…

“So, what’s with the boner?”

Jungkook nearly choked again.

“Ay, Yoongi-ssi, leave him alone,” she chided, smacking Yoongi in the butt. Received a scalding squinty side-eye in response but she didn’t seem to give a shit. Nerves of steel. “You know he can’t cum unless I let him.”

Wow, okay, way to broadcast the facts!

“Hey!”

She tilted her head and rubbed the tip of his nose. Open-mouthed smirk included. Gulp. “Am I wrong?”

Against his better judgement, Jungkook pouted. “Noona…”

She patted his thigh. Condescendingly. He intensified his pout but it was futile. “Finish eating, okay? I’ll help you out in the shower…” She winked, devilish. “As usual.”

Yoongi snickered. “Just don’t be too loud.”

“Put on some headphones then,” she countered.

“Oi, I’m not blowing out my eardrums.”

“Then listen,” she hummed, caressing Jungkook’s jeans. “Or watch. No one’s stopping you.”

The bottom of Yoongi’s lips upturned, giving him the expression of a disgruntled cat. “I have to sleep.”

“Oh, like you don’t sleep enough, grandpa.”

“That wasn’t what you were calling me when I had you folded in half under me.”

Jungkook was left to slurp his soup to the sound of their bickering as her hand gently stroked the inside of his thigh. It could be worse. Could be better too, like her unzipping him and establishing dominance by jacking him off at the kitchen island. But Yoongi was not so easily fazed, so she didn’t, and Jungkook cried at (and secretly enjoyed) the feeling of pre-cum soaking through his underwear.

Turns out, he didn’t have to wait that long to enjoy suffering.

Er.

Attention?

Towards the end of his meal was getting a bit annoying to scoop up what was left, so Jungkook put down the spoon to pick up the bowl and drink of the rest of the soup. For a brief second, he was let go and he noticed Yoongi was flicking his hand over his noona’s chest. She grabbed his hand, pulling that scowling face to her into a sudden and tense kiss. Hey, he wasn’t above some adult entertainment while eating. Well, maybe not during the majority of the meal, but Jungkook kept a (big) peeper out. From his periphery, he saw Yoongi slip his hands under her shirt and heard her murmur in satisfaction, trailing kisses over Yoongi’s face. He saw his hyung smile in response, warm and genuine and butterfly-inducing.

Jungkook lowered the bowl slowly as Yoongi opened his eyes.

And winked.

Devilish.

“I’m leaving,” Yoongi suddenly announced, untangling himself and slinking away.

His noona snickered and shook her head. “Okay, nerd.”

Then she turned around and, before Jungkook could say anything about Yoongi running away like a criminal undercover, she revealed that her shirt was now open and fully exposing her perky tits and large, hard nipples.

“Oh!”

Jungkook felt his eyeballs nearly pop out of his skull at the unexpected surprise.

She acted as if they could ever have a normal conversation with her boobs right in front of his face. “So, are you still tired? Just wanna get washed up and go to sleep?”

He tried to answer but from the first word it was impossible. Her pajama shirt was sliding down her perfect shoulders, revealing smooth skin and the flannel fabric cradled her breasts, framing them perfectly. She smelled fresh and fruity, just like her signature lotion scent. Blackberry and vanilla. Her forearms lay against his thighs, forcing his body to turn, and he gasped as her fingers fanned out over his muscular thighs and squeezed them, basically half-crawling into his lap to look up at him, asking her questions in a very leisurely and unbothered tone.

“Tired…?” he echoed, his brain in a completely different dimension. “Wuh?”

Her hands glided up his sides and delicately closed in around his waist. He gasped, stiffening as her touch encased him, feeling the action through the fabric of his tank top. She hummed softly, caressing his waist. Slow. Tender. Not a second of rushing even though blood was rushing straight down into his dick at record speed. He felt her gaze on him and shifted his own to her face, seeing her observe him with lovely eyes that contained all the innocence of a kumiho.

So, none at all.

Her smile reappeared, mysterious and sinful.

Her palm grazed over his tense abdomen and he whimpered under his breath. Or so he thought.

“Feeling good?” she asked serenely.

“Y… Yeah…”

Down. Tracing the button of his jeans. His breath caught in his throat. Fingertip by fingertip, in slow motion, tapping lightly on his bulge. Barely any pressure. Solidly tucked between his legs, her ass sticking out. He would be fine with the other side of the view too. This house needed more mirrors, Jungkook concluded.

“Do you remember why you came to me?”

He stopped staring at her ass as the question registered. He was holding his right arm out and his left elbow was resting on the counter. “In the beginning?”

“Mhm.”

She was now cupping his covered erection and pulsing her grip around it, making his cock throb and leak everywhere. Great. His boxer briefs were a cum-filled mess now, surely. He could feel the squish and the stimulation against the tip. Agonizing pleasure.

His cheeks warmed. “Ah… Yeah… because… my previous girlfriends said I f-fucked like a robot…”

“You think maybe you just weren’t that into them?” she questioned, running her fingertips of her other hand along his back and waist, sending tingles up his spine.

“I…” It was impossible to concentrate. “Ah… Well… A-Aren’t you supposed to fall f-for their personality first…?”

“Is that why you’re into me? My personality?”

Jungkook looked down.

Right at her personali-titties.

He swallowed so hard that he almost choked.

Again.

“Hm?” she mused.

Ripped his gaze from the visual of her prominent nipples hanging down next to his open thighs and into that sly stare that knew everything. Gulp. She continued toying with his crotch, stroking along the length, dipping down to pat the outline of his balls, smirking wider as his cock jerked in his pants. The roar of his heartbeat thundered in his ears. Fuck. It was the power in that gaze. The confidence in her stance. The ability to be below him and be completely, utterly in control. The taste of forbidden fruit, just within reach. The sensation of his whole body being overcome with want and the way she gladly overwhelmed all his senses by her presence alone. She didn’t have to touch him at all. She didn’t have to expose herself. She didn’t have to smell so good. She didn’t have to.

She simply chose to do all those things to drive him even more crazy.

“Yes or no?” she purred.

He could lie, but he was a terrible liar.

“Y… Yes…”

She seemed very satisfied with his response. Slid up between his legs, her hand on his back dropping and gliding up against his chest instead. He shivered, his lips parting as she rose, closer, the warmth of her exhale washing over him, a soft sigh and then their faces close, centimeters from each other with his racing heart under her palm. Her fingers spread out. Her index found his silver chain necklace resting on his collarbones, playing with it with a small smile.

Her other hand was still on top of his hard dick.

Jungkook used to think that there was no way sex could be sexy. The idea of it was sexy. In practice, sex used to be awkward and uncomfortable, but essential to get his rocks off. It felt like something he had to do. But it wasn’t like that, at least with her. Well, he still sometimes felt awkward and uncomfortable, but Jungkook suspected she was doing it on purpose. He didn’t mind though, because she always touched him with such fondness and – maybe this was the delulu talking – but he really didn’t need the sex so much as he needed her to keep looking at him the way she did.

His dick throbbed suddenly in protest.

“Ah–!”

She tilted her head and kissed him.

Placing a chaste kiss right below his lips, the soft press taking his breath away, and then her lips ghosted over his, grabbing a fistful of his tank top and kissing him deeply. Fuck, how he loved her lips. How could he describe them? So fluffy and yet so insistent. Determined, seductive, pulling him to her and sighing, her contented breath filling his lungs and giving him life. His left hand found the collar of her shirt and gripped it tightly, not even realizing he had closed his eyes instinctively, wanting nothing more than to melt into her. Her hair brushed against his cheek and neck. Her scent warmed him, sweet and decadent. Her knuckles pressed into his sternum, unyielding. Her fingers tangled into the silver chain around his neck, possessive.

His brain melted into a puddle of bliss.

He moaned her name into her lips as she parted. She squeezed his inner thigh through his loose jeans. Still, the fabric was too thick for it to be satisfying enough.

“W-Wait…”

“You kinda taste like beef,” she remarked, releasing her hold and patting his chest. “Come on. If we fuck in the kitchen, I’ll have more to clean than your dishes.”

Jungkook felt his cheeks burn. “O… Oh.”

She backed up a step and took way too long to button a single button to cover her breasts again. He spent a good ten seconds gawking at their perky shape and the way her obvious nipples stuck straight out. She acted as if nothing was wrong, lingering between his spread-open thighs.

“You have to shower quickly, right? Go get started and I’ll come wash your back.”

“But, n-noona–!”

Her hand flew up and landed at the base of his neck. Thumb to one side, four fingers on the other. Jungkook froze.

She cocked an eyebrow.

Then she smirked.

His pulse hammered in his throat, so close to being constricted.

“Are you saying you’re flexible enough to wash your own back now?”

Jungkook shook his head so fast his vision blurred. “Nope. I’m weak. Help. I can’t take off my clothes either. Owie. It hurts so much.”

“Mmmm, very convincing.” She didn’t sound convinced. At all.

Damnnit.

-

“Gah!”

She gave him an exasperated look. “As if I haven’t seen you naked before.”

Minutes later, Jungkook found himself sitting in the bathtub, puffing his cheeks as he washed his hair with his left hand and felt the bath sponge rub against his back. Ah. She was leaning over the side of the tub, holding onto his left shoulder and rubbing circles into his back. Aaaah. He had left the plastic on his right arm for now, intending to remove the tape as his last step so he could rinse it off with a gentle, unscented cleanser. The water was lukewarm. Not the greatest, but he didn’t want to steam up the bathroom. It would be bad for the tattoos.

“U-Um… noona?”

“Hm?”

She rubbed down to his lower back. He sat up straighter. There was a wet towel blanketed over his crotch. Not really for any reason other than cold. Yeah. Anyway. She leaned over and kept going, massaging him at the same time. He gasped as she pressed the base of her palm into his muscle and kneaded.

“I… uh… about what I said earlier…”

“Mhm.”

He jumped a little but she was just leaning over to grab the detachable showerhead, adjusting the water to the correct temperature. “I hope… I hope I didn’t offend you or anything. I do like your personality a lot. You’re assertive and funny and you always remember stuff I like,” Jungkook rambled, lowering his left hand. His right was slightly hanging off the edge of the tub to keep it out of the way. Of course, he scrubbed his armpits before she came in. It would have been rude not to clean all the important bits first.

She rinsed off his back. “I’m not worried,” she chuckled.

“Oh, okay.”

“I don’t mind that you’re shallow. It’s flattering, coming from a hot guy like you.”

“That’s good – wait, what?!”

She sprayed the top of his head and sent him into sputters.

“Ah!”

She grabbed his shoulder, quickly and vigorously rinsing off his hair before pulling the showerhead away and turning off the water. Not before spraying him in the chest though. Jungkook found himself with his drenched hair flat against his forehead, making him unable to see. He felt like a wet dog. He almost wiggled away – until her arm slid down and rested against his chest, her other hand slipping under his wet hair and pushing it back, laughing playfully as she spoke.

“Oh, Jungkook. You’re so silly. Don’t worry about nothing,” she sighed, petting his head.

He couldn’t say anything.

Mostly because her tits were now pressed against the top of his back.

Oh, fuck. Her large, soft nipples rubbed against his shoulders. And her breasts, ooh, so plushy. “Everyone knows you like my personality.” So bouncy. Mmmm. “Just like how everyone knows you’ve been thirsting after me since day one.” No, it was more like first thirty seconds of seeing her. “Just like how everyone knows you’re a pain slut.”

Her breasts pressed against his shoulders.

Wait.

What did she say?

She plucked the towel away from his crotch and locked her fingers around his package.

“AAH!”

She slapped a hand over his mouth and pinned him to her body, crouching over him. It was then – how could it be only THEN – that Jungkook’s brain fully registered that she was topless. Possibly bottom-less too! Not only was she naked but also she was roughly massaging his balls with his rapidly hardening length trapped between her thumb and index finger, essentially making a cock ring with her two fingers and a ball cage with the rest. He gasped, rolling his head back onto her shoulder, moaning behind her hand as her touch switched between caress and choking his balls. There was no water in the tub as the drain wasn’t pushed down.

Her hand changed from covering his mouth to slipping two fingers into his lips.

“See? You like this,” she whispered, sultry and low.

He tried to gurgle out, n-no way, but he was too busy lifting his hips and thrusting upwards, trying to get the friction he so urgently desired but couldn’t achieve. She dragged her nails across his balls and his eyelids fluttered, sucking on her fingers, spit trickling past his lips and down his chin, his moan echoing in the bathroom when she finally closed her grip around his aching cock, pumping slow, running a fingertip over the head, slicking out the pre-cum leaking out.

“P-Please…” he whined.

“You gotta get out now,” she reminded him.

“No, please…”

She slowly thrust her fingers into his mouth, rubbing his tongue. “You should wait longer, shouldn’t you?” He tried to shake his head but he couldn’t, his hips bucking as her speed increased. “Don’t want you to get sweaty and all that.” Fuck, please, he wanted to scream and nearly did when she let go and lightly smacked around his stiff erection, slapping his cock against his tense inner thighs. It bounced around, the head dark red, aching for release. He was so hard that his cock popped right back into position, sticking straight upwards between his spread legs. “Do you really think you’ve been a good boy?” His own saliva was dripping down his chin. How did she get this level of desperation out of him so easily? She held his shaft up with only the back of her thumb and firmly smacked his balls, rapid and light, making him cry out and squirm. “Hold it up.”

“N-Noona, please…”

“Hold it up if you want me to suck your dick,” she ordered calmly.

The thrill raced up his spine. His hair was dripping, droplets down his cheeks and neck. This was it. This electric, intense feeling that seemed to control him, his hand ghosting down to wrap around his twitching length, gasping sharply when her fingers left his mouth. She cupped his chin instead, tilting his head up and now they were looking at each other, only for a moment, her sparkling eyes rich with passion, intoxicating pleasure snaking up his core as he melted under her hot gaze.

This was the feeling Jungkook always wanted.

She lowered herself down. He stared at the ceiling as she teased his balls, moaning and lazily stroking his cock as she slapped them, dragged her fingernails over them, squeezed them. Spit on him. He whimpered, teasing the underside of the swollen head of his cock, more, flinching as she spat on him again, gasping as she dug her nails into the sensitive area behind his balls, coaxing himself to the edge and then stopping, building the frustration.

She kissed his hot cheek.

“You’re doing so good,” she murmured into his ear, licking it softly.

Her right hand closed around his left and they edged him together, their fingers laced, her teeth on the curve of his ear and his moan radiating off the tiles. Long, deep strokes, building up the speed. So good. Tight, rapid pace, close, his chest rattling, so close, his eyes rolling back when her hand clamped around the base of his aching cock and squeezed hard, cutting off the high and colliding him into the mental wall, his dismayed cry drowned out by her lips devouring his.

Fuck!

Was he going to get to bust a nut or not?!

-

“Please, don’t.”

He put on his best pout as she held the Magic-8 ball in front of her body. Still wearing her black seamless panties, but that was it. She was lightly sitting on his thighs, straddling him on the bed as she shook it teasingly.

“Noona, come on…”

“Why not? It’ll be fun.”

She lowered it and Jungkook gasped as the black plastic ball touched his chest, wiggling uncomfortably as she rolled it back and forth. Foreign and cold. It warmed up against his skin.  She leaned over him, not adding more pressure, but giving a great full-frontal view with her breasts trapped between her upper arms.

“It won’t be fun for me,” he whined, gripping the sheets tightly.

He reached up to squeeze her breasts, using his left hand, shuddering as he felt her hard nipples against his palm, looking up to see her tongue dance at the edge of her smirk, her tousled hair trailing down her shoulder. That had been the game before. He would ask to have sex. She would shake the Magic-8 ball and get his answer – resulting in twenty-six straight refusals from that evil children’s toy. Unlucky? Maybe. Cursed? More likely. Extra cursed because it was Park Jimin who purchased and gifted her the thing.

Grr.

Jungkook was still pissed about that.

She tilted her head, sending part of her face into delicious shadow.

“We can make it a little game.”

His hand slid down her arm and covered hers.

“No games,” he begged, catching the edge of his lower lip with his teeth. Her eyes shifted down. He was playing all his cards. She muttered under her breath, hah, I love that underlip mole of yours, how can I resist a lip bite, fuck, and those cute, round, big brown eyes… all while lowering herself to him, drawn to his plea, releasing her hold on the Magic-8 ball.

She rolled it on his chest and into his open hand.

“Okay. No games.”

She kissed him again.

A claim to his lips. Soft and insistent, working him into a frenzy, making him grip that hard plastic ball tightly as his breathing shallowed, moaning as her tongue slid in, out, in, out. He felt her hands frame his head, crowning him with her fanned-out fingers. Tingling as her thumb rubbed across his temple. His jaw. His earrings, toying with them, nipping at his lower lip and sucking on it, her warm body settling between his legs, soft to hard, rubbing up against him.

Fuck.

Fuuuuck.

She pulled on his hair roughly and his lip slipped from her teeth due his own whimper, gasping hotly as her kisses danced down his throat, then running her tongue over the trail of kisses. She had a hand planted onto his chest to prevent him from arching his back, lapping at his collarbones daintily as she tugged at a fistful of his still damp hair. Sparks of pain showering down from the crown od head meeting the maddening bliss of her lips on his chest, traveling, decorating his clavicle, each mark of her teeth mirroring the redness of a fallen rose petal.

He tried to lower his chin and shuddered against the hurt, making better and worse at the same time, opening his eyes as she let go of his hair, seeing her sliding down his torso.

That ass.

He felt a nip at his nipple and his breathing hitched, snapping down to see her looking up at him, expression highly amused.

“Pretty nice ass, huh?”

No one said she was humble.

He grinned. “Yeah, I should take a pic and make it my phone background.”

She chuckled, running her tongue over his hard nipple and Jungkook shivered, transfixed by the image and the simultaneous surge of pleasure. He lifted his head higher off the pillow. Shallow breaths, watching, the glossy tip of that dexterous pink muscle against his dark nipple, her lips closing around it, feeling his body stiffen as he felt the sucking sensation vibrate through him. The moan bubbled in his tightened chest as she gently bit, licked, sucked, alternating between the actions. Her fingernails dragged over his sides and flexed abs, electrifying his skin with the pressure. He flinched when she released him and replaced the rough play with kisses, moving across his chest to do the same to his other nipple.

She glanced at him, witnessing his perverse enjoyment with a knowing glint in her eye.

He clutched the Magic-8 ball at his side with in his left hand, falling back into the pillow moaning, writhing slightly as the sucking intensified. Her hand slid down, stroking the inside of his thigh. He could barely feel the side of his half-hard cock brush against the back of her hand.

“F-Fuck… please…”

His entire body jolted when she popped her lips off him and sealed her work with a kiss.

“You’re so impatient, Jungkook,” she hummed, pressing her tongue flat to his nipple and rubbing roughly, saliva sticking to his skin. “So needy.”

His mind was spinning. Blood running hot under his skin, body uncontrollably quivering, clutching the sheets and the Magic-8 ball for dear life. The pent-up arousal was driving him insane but, as a wise man once said, gotaa go insane to stay sane. Or something like that. Jungkook couldn’t remember any wise proverbs right now. He was too horny. She was rising, re-clipping her hair with that cute sheep-shaped claw clip, keeping it out of her smirking face.

“Y-Yes, I am needy… a-ah… please…”

Slipping down, down.

She pressed her palms into the innermost part of his thighs, spreading her fingers over his crotch, and swallowed his cock.

He moaned so loud that Min Yoongi surely heard.

Hey.

No one said Jeon Jungkook was subtle.

Especially when being pleasured.

Immediately his cock swelled at her up-and-down motion that came with tongue and lips and a tight, wet, warm throat that pushed him in as deep as possible. He was always somewhat shocked at how easily she maneuvered him without her hands, preferring instead to use only her mouth to take him all the way to the base and lick at his balls, her constricting throat suffocating the thick head of his cock, and then back up, running the sensitive skin over the roof of her mouth and closing her lips around the tip tighter, teasing the underside of the slit with deft flicks. Then, again, swallowing his growing length, molding her tongue to his girth, slathering saliva over his balls.

God, Jungkook loved the bed suck.

She had an immaculate level of control when giving a blowjob on the bed. He didn’t have to do anything but lay back and relax, occasionally looking down to follow her head movements and see his length glistening in between her plush lips, then collapsing again as the erotic euphoria overtook him again, his chest fluttering with the intensity, his core tightening, lost in lust. He completely forgot the itchiness of his right arm. The colors were brighter under the overhead light and the lotion he had applied right before getting into bed, a sharp contrast to her bare arm against his hip, her elegant hand nestled up his side, her perfect round ass in the air. His pants blending into moans, floating on cloud nine from her tight, soft mouth and agile tongue, wondering how the fuck he got this lucky.

She’s basically a porn star in bed, Park Jimin once said.

She paused when she noticed him watching her again. Extended her pink tongue past her lips, slapping his balls and scooping them up against the base of his cock, raising an eyebrow at him.

Damn.

Truer words had never been spoken.

Then – thankfully – she returned her attention to his cock, except this time it was tighter, faster, and he gasped, feeling her push the head up and force it deeper into her throat when she descended, oh, fuck, he could see her breasts bouncing too, those perfect nipples, damn, obvious wet noises drowned out by the more obscene sounds he was making, crying out, moaning, the pace intense and deliberate and racing, and the only way he could describe it was as if somehow her mouth had become a warm, wet sleeve for his twitching cock, powerfully massaging his length all over, close, his eyes rolling back.

There.

He groaned as he shot into her suffocating throat, wanton and pathetic, finally, his mind going blank, pumping thick cum into that tight pocket and whining as she swallowed, fuck, finally, her pinning his flinching hips down as his shuddering length jerked again, another vicious throb and dripping cum, tears stinging the edge of his vision, gasping out her name as the apex of pleasure consumed his nerves and set them alight.

Fucking finally.

He felt his orgasm squish into the back of her tongue and around the aching head of his cock and he moaned. Long and loud and pornographic. He felt himself twitch in her mouth. She brought him down, slow and wet, a low hum vibrating from her throat to his cock to his core.

Jungkook panted.

Tension shimmered throughout his chest and limbs, keeping him breathless.

Wait.

Her tongue rubbed against the underside of his girth, fanning out along the pulsing, abused head, sending racing sparks over his ass and up his spine.

Wait a second.

Her fingertips glided over his slick balls, squeezing them and making him shudder at the shocking bliss.

I’m still hard.

He yelped, snapping his head down, but it was too late, too late to stop, the afterglow of his last orgasm building towards another, her head sliding up and down, her lips flush to his glossy shaft, him whimpering while he watched, shivering at the lewd image and the idea of back-to-back orgasms, so good, fuck, she looks so good and it feels so fucking amazing, the addictive adrenaline spiking, the lasting buzz radiating all over, oversensitivity increasing the forbidden pleasure, tight and wet and soft, taking him as so deep his balls slapped into her chin, the muscles of his body flexed and tense, hard underneath the soft.

His second orgasm slammed into him.

His head fell back and the pleasure swarmed him, knocking the air out of his lungs, drawing out his lustful moan, his heartbeat roaring in his ears. Her name tumbled out of his lips, praises, swears, her name again, the words mixing together on his confused tongue. She swallowed again, loud to his ears, so obvious, and he trembled all over. The sharp spasm of ecstasy left him rattled, whining, feeling her licking him again but tender, even more gentle this time, slurping around his softening cock, the sensitive skin prickling and pulsating under her warm tongue.

“So… fuck… s-so fucking good…”

Oh, how he loved the feeling of her lips and those kisses feathering his thighs, his crotch, his cock, his balls, shivering in delight, all his previous frustrations making it everything so much more satisfying.

Uh.

He didn’t just think that.

Shit.

“Man, you’re loud.”

“Gah!”

“Hey, Yoongi.”

She planted herself on top of his drenched cock, laying out all over him with her hands on his chest and shoulder. Jungkook gawked at her and then at his hyung standing there at her open bedroom door, looking around at the pastel sheep plushies decorating her room and pausing at the pink bunny and tuxedo cat plush sitting on her desk. Then those dark brown orbs moved back to her ass leaning against Jungkook’s still trembling thigh.

“You could have taken off your panties,” he grumbled in his low voice.

She turned her head to look back at Yoongi. “Sorry. I didn’t think about it since I wasn’t going to get any tonight. I didn’t know you would be watching.”

Her words made Jungkook frown. “What do you mean, you aren’t getting any?”

She faced him again, raising her eyebrows. “What are you talking about? We shouldn’t push it. You’ll get too sweaty.”

“But, noona, that’s not fair, I could…?”

Silence.

A bird cawed outside.

“Use you left hand?” Yoongi snorted. “Meh.”

She smiled. “I’ll wait. I can be patient.”

Yeah, well, guess who couldn’t be patient?

As the youngest, he protested. “You could use my thigh. Or… Or my forearm! You like that!”

“No, no. I’m fine with waiting.”

“You’re doing this on purpose! You’re torturing me by not letting me feel you cum!”

Jungkook paled as his hyung and noona grinned at the same time. Deviously. In unison. Scary as fuck. Yoongi leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his long black hair framing his cunning eyes and open-mouthed smirk, serving every bit the allegations of being sex on legs. Jungkook trembled as he felt her trail her fingers along the base of his neck, sensually rubbing his collarbone. Thumb on one side, four fingers on the other. Not moving up but reminding him nonetheless.

“Whatever gave you that impression?” she drawled.

They were in cahoots.

Not that Jungkook minded.

That was how he got this lucky in the first place.

The Magic-8 ball rested against his naked hip, the window reading, without a doubt.

--

masterpost

[mistydeyes]

Hey, Hope you're having a good day or night wherever you are.

Can I request a headcanon about 141 with a female reader who likes to draw and sketch a lot? Platonic ofc.

thanks anon, hope you have a good ____ as well <3 i used to be a sketch/artist girl so this was so cute to write :)

an artist’s touch

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summary: When you aren’t on the field, you are an avid artist of multiple mediums. It isn’t brought up much but once it is, the 141 has plenty of questions (and even some requests).

pairing: Taskforce 141 x platonic!fem!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood/violence

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

tbh when you first joined, they didn’t know much about your hobby (being part of a specialized task force is busy yk?)

but it was revealed when you finally were granted leave and you discussed your plan upon your return home

“my first stop is going to be to cass art :)”

immediate cacophony of “you draw?” “you’re an artist?” “have you ever drawn us before!”

after a few minutes you quelled all of their questions (“yes, yes, and i literally joined 4 months ago and haven’t had access to a pencil”)

ghost comments, “make sense why you’re so good at stabbing people”

“god you’re so morbid ghost”

when back on base, you were shy to show you’re talents but you eventually relaxed the more you were with your teammates

eventually you began to bring out your sketchbook or paints out when you were relaxing after a mission or training session

once in a while, someone will tell you your work is amazing but if you’re in the zone, they’ll leave you alone

one time price accidentally left his mug too close to your paint cup and you ended up swirling your brush into it

queue a long lecture about how you should pay more attention (but who am i kidding that coffee is so strong he probably didn’t notice)

you humored soap and drew what you thought the real simon riley looked like

ghost snuck a peek and one of the drawings was surprisingly accurate

speaking of which, you may or may not have used your teammates as drawing references but you’ll never tell

gaz just has such angular features which makes drawing his figure so easy

mans looks like a walking drawing figure

it’s relaxing to let your mind wander and hands do the work as you fill a page or canvas

painting at home in your studio helps you to unwind from the grueling job

once, you sketched a few designs for gaz when he mentioned wanting to get a tattoo

“i don’t know gaz this is permanent” “i’ve seen your sketches and they’re amazing! just send me a few designs”

he landed on a cool watercolor piece you had made months ago

after your design, you would all joke about how you would redesign ghost’s tattoo

“Lt. that shit is heinous, just let me draw you a coverup” “no.”

while you don’t accept commissions anymore, you did gift your captain a painting of his favorite secluded lake scenery

he has it hanging in the foyer of his elegant flat

while you don’t really exchange gifts, everyone knows what they would get you

ghost has taken special attention to the brand of pencil you use and the gouache paintings that litter your quarters

everyone likes to joke w you on the comms

“hey do you think you could paint a picture with the blood of your enemies?” “jesus! soap…but yes i could”

[prinxio]

FURRY COMMISSIONS

Hey, so, I need to start saving money for things like loan repayments and stuff and I'm not in the position where I can have a job due to personal circumstances. In the meanwhile, I'm opening 2D commissions with 3D ones on the way! If you'd like to see my comm sheet, here is the google form I use to track clients (warning: very nsfw): https://forms.gle/Q42ujMvmpu6zuZNx5

Here is my BlueSky:

And here is my furAffinity:

https://www.furaffinity.net/user/scythio

Even if you can't afford to comm me, sharing really helps!

[tk-sketches]

hey guys i’m opening commission slots!!

if you’re interested or have questions, shoot me an email/dm, or you can fill out the form in my bio!

Base Prices:

Bust: $50

Half-Body: $75

Full-Body: $100

Chibi: $50

Bounce Animation: +$30

Additional info:

Paypal invoice only, work will begin after payment is received

Art is for personal use only (email me for commercial rates)

Design complexity may change price

My gifs have worked as roll20 tokens for many people, though keep in mind these can run as large as 7mb - please double check that your internet can load gif tokens smoothly in roll20 before commissioning for this purpose!

[oddballwriter]

HEYAA. I’ve been so obsessed with ur MK stuff lately it’s insane. Wondering if I could request a little blurb with Steven? 🙏 Maybe artistic reader who uses Steven as a muse of sorts? 🎨 Maybe Steven finds reader’s sketches of him and Reader is like embarrassed 😨 that he may be uncomfortable with it? Add and change up anything you’d like!! 😽 ur my fav writer thank you 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼❤️❤️

Your Drawings Look like Heaven to Me

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Summary: Steven always enjoys your drawings and art, big or small, painting or simple sketch and doodle. But he's a bit surprised when he discovers that you have a habit of drawing a certain muse that you have. 

Warnings: There's nothing that I can actually thing of other than it's mentioned that the reader draws Steven when he's unaware, but I don't think it's that bad. Also 'Y/n' is used once. 

Author’s Snip: This was meant to be just a little blurb but I got the writing equivalent of zoomies. You asked for a cookie and I made you a cake with layers, frosting, and toppings. This is insane how did I do this. I think it's because I've been drinking a monster while writing this. I have paused the video that I was previously watching in the background because I am so focused. I'm not even joking this shit is 1517 words long and that is before I proof and grammar checked it. I think this might be the longest writing I've done thus far. Enjoy your free cake, anon.

Notes: This is written in the lens of a world where it's just Steven, so none of the actual events in the show happen.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Steven always knew you drew. You met at your jobs at the museum, at the time, you were working the front desk while he of course worked at the gift shop. The two of you weren't all too familiar with each other since you only saw each other in passing. You knew him as Steven from the gift shop, and he knew you as Y/N from the front desk. You did learn more details through others. Steven was a chatty guy who had an impressive knowledge about Egyptology and mythos. And you were the person at the front desk who did nothing but sit there and draw all day when not granting visitors entry, or in most cases, taking a second to scan a preprinted ticket and check the schedule.

Steven heard talk that you were really talented in your art. You were able to draw what were basically pictures of things you saw or even made up. He hadn't seen your actual art till one day he found you sat where he usually did for lunch, drawing the statue man that he talked at everyday. And wow, were they right about how well you could draw. Though while you talked to each other you laughed "Well of course I'm able to draw him perfectly. He doesn't move.".

That lunch break was a long time ago. You two started dating between then and now. Steven managed to leave the museum for a new one that actually let him be a tour guide. You eventually managed to find work that let you use your skills in art instead of using it to beat the boredom of your job. And you also moved in with Steven in his little flat, in which he cleared out some of this clutter to make a space for you to work and make your own.

You would draw little doodles for Steven to have. Like Gus swimming around. An Egyptian god that you made using his books as a reference. You even drew him a little alligator with a speech bubble saying "Later" on a sticky note. He still has it by the way. He laminated it using clear tape and has it in his wallet as a pick-me-up when he's upset or as a lucky charm of sorts. You always made drawings for him. But never once had he thought that you would make drawings of him. Let alone how many drawing you made of him.

Steven isn't a man who likes to snoop around regularly, feeling a massive sense of ruining someone's privacy. But you said that he could always look through your sketchbooks and art pieces if he wanted, as long as it wasn't a commission that was still being worked on, which he respected. You, like any other artist, had a plethora of sketchbooks of different sizes that served different purposes. There were your personal sketchbooks, outline and testing sketchbooks, practice sketchbooks, a lot of sketchbooks with a lot of different things they were for. It amazed him just how many you had and how you were able to remember which is which.

He knew which ones were ones he gifted you though. Steven was never confident when it came to gifting you supplies. He wasn't an artist himself so he didn't know what was perfect and what was something you would say thank you for out of courtesy. One of the things he used as a safe play were sketchbooks. The bookstore he frequented had a section of art stuff and found that the sketchbooks were not only great quality but also had various designs on their covers. So he'd get you one almost every time he went.

When he looked at them on the shelf next to your desk he realized that he had never actually seen inside of those ones. He was a bit hesitant to grab one since he didn't know if you would want him to. It's not like he could ask you right now. You were out running some important errands and he didn't want to bother you. However, they were on the part of the shelf that you put all your regular personal sketchbooks, which he was allowed to look at so he took a one random from the collection and flicked through the pages.

Out of some coincidence, it was the first sketchbook he got you, which was admittedly one he got you before he learned what pages were good for actual art. The first few pages were doodles that were likely from testing how the paper held up with the actual process of drawing which soon stopped and the rest of the art was actually taped on like they originally belonged to another sketchbook.

Steven thought of that as a clever use for the pages. You would sometimes make art you thought was nice on miscellaneous papers and would simply take the piece with the art out and stick it somewhere else. But he soon notices a theme amongst all the doodles and drawings, which then follow into all of the other sketchbooks he gifted you.

Him.

Most of the drawings in these sketchbooks were of him.

They were all different. Some were him lounging around or taking a nap. Something that would have made him unaware of you creating a drawing of him. There was one that was him asleep laying in bed from what would be your side of the bed. His face was calm, the limpness of his arms and body was captured perfectly, the sheets drawn with the most accurate wrinkles, and the lighting gave the impression of the light of the morning that came in through the curtains. It looked like you simply took a picture of him while he slept but it was clearly a sketch drawn using a pen and pencil.

There was these bust and face portraits that spanned through out the books, of course of him. The first were already so good in detail considering these had to be drawings of him from memory. But they only got more detailed as they went on. You managed to get his amount of stubble right. You had the little baby curls that lived along his hair line. The crease between his eyebrows he had since he always had a slight anxious expression. That tiny little dimple that he had next to his nose that he didn't know existed until you pointed it out one time.

Steven's mind was boggling to him to see such detailed drawings of him that looked so carefully done even when they were simply quick sketches. They were life-like. They were him. They were Steven. To be honest, how could it not? You see his face all the time. So why wouldn't you have him completely memorized. It was just the fact that you had taken time and pages to draw him and him alone.

It was a bit jarring, for the both of you, when you walked through the front door with a hand full of groceries and other things from your errands and he was seen looking at all the drawings of him. You were embarrassed that he finally saw all your drawings of him and worried that he would think it was weird. He thought that he crossed a line and breached your privacy.

You two avoided talking about it till Steven finally did during dinner later that evening.

"You, uh, draw me... a lot." Steven spoke. "Yeah. I do." you blush as you avoided eye contact in case his eyes showed that your fear of him finding your habit with drawing him was strange was correct. "Why do you draw me so much?" he questions. You sighed, "It's sort of a habit I formed." you confess. You proceeded to explain how it started,

"I first drew you as an exercise to get rid of some art block. I usually draw faces of people I know as a means to do that. So I drew you. It was okay. But when I looked at it a couple days later I thought that I could do it again to improve on detailing some more. Then I used you as a study for lighting and colors.".

"Then, sometimes, I would just draw you when I thought you looked pretty or thought of you. And that's sort of what I've been doing." you explain further. "I thought you would find it weird if you saw all the times I drew you and so I just put them in the books you got me and hoped you wouldn't see them." you say in a timid manner.

"I don't think it's strange. I think it's actually quite flattering." Steven clarifies. "I was just surprised that you think of me as something worth drawing. Especially with such detail." he remarks. You breathe a sigh of relief at that.

"If I'm entirely honest, love," Steven spoke up, "Never tell me that you're drawing me from where I am. I'll get nervous and possibly ruin the position that you're drawing me in." he remarks.

[ohno-the-sun]

23 year old artist

Likes science and art

Draws some pretty things, some scary things, likes blood and gore so be warned

My main is @weird-one-23 so if ya see that blog pop up randomly that’s me pfpfpt

Directional stuff below

Also I don’t do tag games, I appreciate the tags very much but they used to make me go on depressive spirals so I try to avoid them nowadays (though know everytime I am very tempted to respond pftftft)

Tags

My art : all of my art (hopefully)

Thoughts: random thoughts

My writing : my writing

AUs

Mad scientist au : adopted from @/oobbbear, Sun is a mad scientist and moon is his creation. Also Moon infects Sun. Tw for body horror and eye gore for this au

Luca Au: Mermaid au, Sun and Moon are sirens that turn human when dry, secrets and conflict abound. There is a fic

Kofi:

Comms are [OPEN]

[masked-watcher]

More Than That

Words: 4.5k

Pairing: Soap x Ghost

Warnings: None apply

Tags: Fluff, confessions, awkward men trying to talk to each other

Artist: aiden.lydia on Instagram

Soap and Ghost were in a bar, a little tired after a long day. Sitting by themselves, not talking to anyone in particular- just drinking. Without realizing, Johnny catches himself staring at him. Ghost looks over, meeting his eyes and cocking his head to the side a bit.

“You’ve been staring MacTavish.”

Soap freezes a little, not aware he's been so obvious. Then giving him a lopsided smirk. "Sorry L.T... Just been a while since we did something outside of a mission."

The older man chuckles. “I feel ya. Sometimes the stress of doing your damn job needs a good release. Speaking of… What’s that you got?” He points at his drink. The scotsman laughs, taking a sip.

"Whiskey, feels at least a little like home." The younger one smirks and nods to the others glass. "Next one's on me."

“Sure, I’ll take you up on that. I’ll have the same.”

He signals to the bartender, who pours Ghost a glass of golden, honey like liquid, which he accepts with a slight nod.

" 's pretty nice to hang around with ya Ghost. Missed that. Missed my buddy." Soap grins before taking another swig. The banter between them, especially over comms, has gotten more intense lately. Their last mission just a few days ago was... something. They made it out alive, obviously. But for a while things started to look grim. At least they had each other to listen to.

Soap catches himself staring again before looking away. Letting his gaze drift over the other people in the bar.

“I’ll drink to that. I missed it too, Soap.” He pauses, and finishes his beer in a matter of seconds before shifting his attention to the newly acquired drink. “The last mission was… A real clusterfuck. Bloody hells, I thought we were done for, for a minute there.”

"Was worried for a second but-" The scotsman looks down at his glass, smiling softly. "I knew I'd be safe with you looking out for me." With that, his eyes find their way to Ghost's. Blue meeting brown. And they stay like that for a moment. Just for a heartbeat. Until the masked man gives a little grunt of confirmation, taking the small glass of whiskey, slowly nursing it down. He relaxes a little as the drink settles in.

“Not like I wouldn’t be worried about your ass too. You may be a hell of a soldier…” He grins under his mask, the only thing visible being the crinkle of his eyes. “But you’re dumb as a sack of bricks outside a firefight.”

"Oi!" Soap protests and jokingly punches him on the shoulder. "I got dem street smarts aye? You'd be done for if I didn't contribute my quick thinkin' and I ain't not scared of a little... boom." He underlined the last part with a wiggle of his brows. The older one gives a short bark of laughter, almost choking on his drink for a moment.

“I always know you’ve got my back, Johnny.” He pauses, taking in the atmosphere for a moment. “It’s good to have a few minutes to relax. And not have to worry about getting shot at.” He glances at his sergeant for a moment, but doesn’t pursue that thought further before taking a generous swig of his booze. His throat slightly burns.

Soap flashes him a toothy grin before nipping at his own, almost empty glass. Leaning a little forward on the bar stool, supporting his head on his hand, propped up on the countertop. "Yea... These moments are rare. So I really wanna enjoy them to the fullest while they last."

“I hear that.” The Lieutenant pauses, taking in the sounds and smells of the bar. He glances at his company again for a moment, before turning back and staring at his whiskey. “You know, you’re different without the gear on, Soap.” He says it in a matter of fact way. Not necessarily a diss, but the truth. “You’re almost… Normal.”

Another grin spreads on the scots lips as he looks down once more. Voice soft and almost murmuring. "Kinda sounds like a bad thing when you say it..." He wasn't completely serious. But it got him thinking.

“Not at all, Johnny.” Ghost shifts his position slightly, and looks at him again. "What I meant was… Outside of a mission or the field, you relax… you have a softer side. You’re not a robot." Not like me. But he keeps that thought to himself, leaning back against his bar stool. "And... You still get a little nervous talking to females." A slight eyebrow raise from Soap. "In all fairness, so do I."

Soap snorts, shaking his head. "Dunnae wat ya mean. I got the rizz baby. Could snatch me any woman I want from here." Of course he is confident. And as he emptied his golden liquor, maybe also a slight bit tipsy. Just adding to his boldness. Ghost watches him, raising a brow as he boasts about his "rizz".

“I saw you try and flirt with that waitress, Soap. I saw the way she shot you down.” He tries not to snicker, but it’s a lost cause. “You’re gonna need a lot more work with the ‘rizz’ before you ‘snatch’ any woman from here.”

"Pff, that was nothin'. She shot me down cause she was into women herself. Here, watch this." Soap cracks his knuckles and hops from the stool. Making his way towards a woman leaning against a wall, drinking. He proceeds to talk to her, trying to impress her with his military position and attempting to buy her a drink. But she turns him down; very quickly.

With a little pout he returns back to Ghost, slumping onto the stool once more and immediately ordering a new drink for himself. Ghost watched his fruitless efforts to flirt, not even bothering to hide his amusement. “Damn, soldier… You’re worse than I thought.” He takes a last sip of his drink. “I mean… Did you really think that girl was going to be head-over-heels for a soldier?” He chuckles. It is low and vibrating. Rumbling in his chest. A rare sound but even more treasured that way whenever Soap got to hear it. “You may be a hell of a soldier, Soap, but your ‘rizz’ could use some work… Or maybe some new lines. And new moves.”

Now the younger one takes a sip and looks at him, raising his slitted eyebrow. "Oh yea? As if you know anything about flirting. But now I'm curious. Lemme hear your best line or move. Come on." He again wiggles his brows and grins at him.

His lieutenant looks him over for a moment. “The trick… Is confidence.” He shrugs, as if that should be obvious. “If you’re gonna hit on a girl…” He pauses and smirks. “Be straight up. Honest. Don’t try and charm her or hit her with some cheesy ass ‘slick’ line.” He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Just be you, Soap.”

"Just be me? Hasn't worked recently to be honest. I'm not all that great." He chuckles, a little self deprecating perhaps. He slowly starts to feel the alcohol. Averting his gaze.

The older man watches him and frowns slightly, setting his drink down. He shifts his position a little bit, leaning on the counter, as if trying to get a little closer to him. “Johnny, don’t doubt yourself. You’re a good man. And any girl out there would be lucky to be with you.” He pauses and sets his elbow down on the counter, resting his head on his hand. “What’s your problem with the ladies anyway? You are never like this when we are in the field.” Maybe the intentions of this question are a little selfish. What answer exactly did Ghost hope for?

Soap chuckles before he looks up at him. Smirking. "Yea well, on the field it's you and me. The banter is easy with you. Just comes natural, ya know?" Ghost looks at him for a moment, trying to gauge how much the alcohol has affected him. “Yeah… I get that. But even off the field. You were always so… Charismatic. Flirtatious, to some extent too. Remember the time when we were stationed in Eastern Europe?" He pauses, his eyes drifting slightly, as if in thought. He glances at him again, meeting his eyes. “The way you were with those locals… You practically flirted with every woman we met.”

Johnny still had that smirk on his lips, nodding as he remembers that time. He did manage to score, spending some nights off base. He mumbles into his drink as he takes another swig. "Maybe my priorities have changed over time..."

“...Maybe.” Ghost wasn't sure what kind of answer that was, still looking at him thoughtfully. “What happened? You used to be like Casanova. Hell, you probably had half of the town wrapped around your finger.” He pauses, then sighs as if something has just occurred to him. “Come to think of it… You never do talk about women much anymore, do you?”

"Ah, s'pose I haven't. Didn't even notice, haha." The scotsman empties the glass, not immediately ordering a replacement. After all, he didn't want to get wasted so it was time for a short break. He fully turned to look at his lieutenant. "You never really do either. I don't think I ever really heard you talk about any relationship. Not interested right now L.T.?"

Ghost looks slightly surprised when he brings that up but quickly recovers. He shrugs, trying to play it cool- trying to appear nonchalant. “I mean… The work we do… We’re not exactly the ideal men to settle down with, now are we?” He pauses. “So nah, I haven’t really thought about it. Besides, I’m always moving around anyway.” He then smirks, looking at Soap. “What about you? Still no one back home waiting for you?”

"Guess you're right 'bout that..." He sighs, a little lost in thought. Circling his finger around the rim of his empty glass. "Kinda miss someone by my side tho... It does get lonely sometimes. With just your mind keeping you company at night. Not the best type either."

The masked man watches him quietly as he contemplates. It was different to see him in a situation not completely under control. Not exactly a bad thing, seeing him vulnerable like this. It’s humanizing. “Missin' someone after all?" He shifts on his stool again, his voice quieter; it was as if it took effort for him to ask that. He waits for the answer, eyes on Soap the whole time. Who shakes his head, smiling softly.

"Ah, no. No one in particular." Finally he lifts his head to lock eyes with him. Looking at his gaze through his mask. Holding it maybe a bit too long. But the older one stares back just as intense. Perhaps too intense. He doesn’t even flinch, but there was a slight edge to the way the air felt between them both. Neither of them were breaking eye contact, almost as though they were challenging each other. When he finally spoke up, Ghost's voice was softer than usual; a lot of the usual banter and sarcasm gone.

“That’s nice to hear. Maybe we’re not so different after all.”

Johnny's eyes flicker but he quickly recovers. Slowly and surely, a light blush began to spread across his cheeks. "Maybe not..." Okay to hell with it. He signaled the bartender he needed a beer. He couldn't do that whole feelings talk so effortlessly. Ghost watches him and doesn't say anything. He looks back down at his own drink, nursing it slowly now. An odd, tense silence settling between the two of them. He takes in Soap's features for a moment, out of the corner of his eye; the way his mohawk curls around the back of his neck when it got too long, his piercing blue eyes rivaling the clear summer sky, strong facial structure adorned by a slight beard. His eyes flicker to his lips for a moment, before he shakes his head quickly and looks back down at his drink. He takes in another sip, his blush only worsening.

"Hey L.T. Wanna bail after this?" Soap's lips curve into a soft smile. Ghost glances back at him, almost surprised he asks. But he slowly nods and the younger one finishes his pint with a few big gulps. “Hell… Yeah, you read my mind. I was about to ask the same.” He rises to his feet, offering him a slight grin that is only noticeable through the movement of his eyes. “Let’s get out of here, Soap.”

The cold night air immediately hits them. It is refreshing, waking them up again slightly. Soap takes a short moment to close his eyes and inhales. Then looking up at his company besides him. "Alright, let's head back to base." The taller man stares out at the night, taking in the view before nodding. There’s a slight hint of relief on his face as he suggests heading back to the base. “I could use some rest anyway. It’s been a long day.”

Ghost starts to walk, heading to the alleyway back towards the base. His steps are steady and deliberate, almost robotic. As if his mind is completely absent from the present; his thoughts somewhere else. He gestures at his sergeant to come along, not slowing his pace, who quickly scrambles after him until they are walking side by side. It would take them a bit until they arrive. But that was fine, he didn't mind.

"...I had fun today. Thanks, Simon." He quietly spoke into the night, looking straight ahead. His hands in his pockets. He could see his breath forming in little clouds.

Simon stares ahead, eyes seemingly unfocused despite his words. His face remains unreadable, but his body language eases subtly; the tension dissipating as he continues walking beside him. He likes it when Soap uses his name. Likes that he was the only one daring to do so. The only one Ghost allows to. “Me too, Johnny.” His voice is soft, almost too quiet to be heard. His eyes flicker towards him for a moment, then they quickly return to staring ahead, as if he hadn’t heard his reply. Johnny notices the way Ghost's eyes scan his surroundings constantly, the way his footsteps never falter or stumble. Despite everything else, Ghost was a soldier above all.

They continue to walk in silence for a while. But the little chatterbox just couldn't shut his mouth. The alcohol loosening his tongue further. He smiled faintly. "Shame there's this unspoken rule in the force..."

That brought attention to his lieutenant. “Which is?” He speaks without looking at him, but he sounds intrigued. The conversation has broken him out of his reverie of quiet thought earlier and he’s not trying to hide it. His gaze turns to Soap, his eyes seemingly a bit sharper than usual as he stares at him intently. His footsteps haven’t slowed whatsoever in the time it took for him to say that. It’s almost as if his body is on autopilot; every motion as smooth and precise as his stride.

"No dating within the squad." He tries to match his pace. Looking up at the same moment his eyes fall on him. Another lopsided grin of Soap before he averted his gaze back to the front. There's not much more he had to say right now. One could practically hear Simon blink at those words. His expression softens when he looks at him again, as if he’s still reeling from what he just said. After a moment, he smirks and shrugs.

“It’s an unspoken rule, sure. But…” He pauses, looks at Johnny again. His expression is still relaxed but there’s more to it than before. A certain intensity, almost. “…I’d break it."

"Would you now?" The scotsman snickers and raises an eyebrow at him. Not sure if he was all that serious. Would he just break it in general or did he actually play with that thought right now? His eyes dart between his, trying to figure out what exactly he meant.

Ghost stares back at him. Letting the question hang in the air. His gaze holds Soap's for a bit longer before he takes in a deep breath; fogging up a bit as he breathes into the cold night air. “I know the rule exists for a reason… Can’t have soldiers be distracted by ‘love’ in the middle of an operation. No tension or drama on base, between mates. No clouding of decision making.” His voice was quieter than usual. “But… We’re not on any major mission anymore.”

He looks ahead again. “There’s nothing stopping us.”

Soap's eyes still linger on his mask. Did he hear that right? Nothing stopping them? After a few beats of silence, his head turns as well. Eyes staring straight forward. Voice equally quiet and tender. "Mhm, I suppose not..." His hand closest to the tall man slides out of his jacket pocket. Just hanging by his side, trembling slightly. Is he really all that nervous right now? One can almost hear his breath catch in his throat. There’s so much tension in the air, as if every minor movement, every word is a potential match to ignite the spark of something more. He’s waiting, searching for a sign.

His footsteps slow to a stop and for a while, it’s just the sound of them both breathing.

“…”

His voice is a whisper now, as if he’s worried someone will hear him. “Soap… Can I ask you something?”

He notices his pace slowing, coming to a halt just slightly ahead of him. Turning to face him and looking up at his mask. His brows furrow at his question. He seemed so serious, yet... uncertain. "Anything L.T. What is it?" While speaking he took a step closer to him.

“I…“ Simon stops himself. As if reconsidering whether to ask what’s on his mind. He sighs slightly, his gaze on him, voice so soft even the gentle sounds of the city and environment around them seems to be muted somehow. “Nevermind. Forget it.”

A second passes by… And then he speaks again.

”No, wait…”

He shakes his head, as if trying to clear his mind. It’s like watching a person in the middle of an internal struggle.

"Simon..." Soap sees the struggle in his eyes. His hand lands on his friends upper arm in a reassuring gesture. Lightly squeezing it. "It's okay... No pressure, relax..."

Ghost glances down at the hand on his arm, staring at it for a moment. As if the slightest bit of human contact can cause him to become overwhelmed with emotion. His other hand reaches out, placing it on top of Johnny's. And then… he’s pulling himself into you. Soap knows from experience how careful and meticulous this man usually is with everything he does. Yet, right now, as he leans into him… He seems almost vulnerable. An awkward moment of silence stretches between both. Simon's gaze meets his again, his eyes searching for something. Soap wraps his arms around him. Embracing him in a hug. It was rare he accepted such close contact. Let alone initiate it. For a long while he actually was the only one allowed to physically touch him. With time he opened up to Price as well, who mostly gave out pats on the back. And Gaz with his fist bumps and side hugs.

Soap leans into him. His arms barely able to completely fit around him. He closes his eyes, enjoying the warmth as he didn't notice before how cold it actually has gotten. Ghost's arms come around him as well, his embrace firm and secure. Their bodies molding against each other. Ghost takes in a deep breath and the other can feel his chest rise and fall ever so slightly against him. His expression is a mess of emotions.

The tall man remains silent, content to just hold Soap in his arms for a while. A soft sigh escaping his lips.

“Johnny…”

That’s all he says, and there’s a lot implied in that one word.

"Simon..."

His name comes out as a whisper. Not wanting to break much of the silence. The world around them seems to freeze as snow slowly begins to fall and settle on the ground, trees, park benches. Being illuminated by the street lamp they stood under and pale moonlight peeking through the clouds. Soap leans backwards ever so slightly. Tilting his head to look up at Ghost. How tiny snowflakes get caught on his pale lashes. Being almost hypnotized by his eyes. His half lidded gaze. One of his hands rises to brush away some of the snowflakes that had gathered on Johnny's face. The other remains around him. A quiet moment passes, as they both just stand there together, enjoying the company. The snow falling around them. Ghost glances down at him for a moment and he can feel his gaze lingering on his lips. His mind races, wondering what he’s looking at. Or thinking. Then realizing. He could kiss him right now and maybe he wants to.

Both of Soap's hands slowly come up to his face, trembling. Fingers tracing the edge of his balaclava. "...May I?"

Simon stares at the hands as he raises them to his face. His expression is completely unreadable through his mask. The sergeant's heart races, adrenaline surging through his veins. He wants to do it. Why is he waiting for him? Just do it. Just…

As if reading his thoughts, Ghost slowly nods, his expression becoming more tender. "....Go ahead." His voice is a soft whisper, barely audible under the sounds of the snow and wind outside. Soap's fingers run along the edge of his balaclava once more, feeling the rough material and warm skin beneath. He takes his time, slowly sliding it up. He didn't push his luck though by overstepping any boundaries. Moving it just up to his nose. Revealing his jawline and lips. He can see how pale his complexion is, in a stark contrast to his own more tanned skin. Blue eyes wander over some faded and some deeper scars. His thumb lightly stroking over the bottom half of his cheek, the corner of his mouth. His lips are full and slightly pink. Johnny's fingers can feel the soft, warm breath against them. He was beautiful.

His gaze trails to the older man's eyes once more. As if silently asking for yet another permission. To see if this really was okay. Their eyes meet and Ghost stares at him with intensity. There is no need to ask for permission anymore. He’s looking at him with nothing but tenderness and longing.

Soap swallows, nervousness eating at him. His heart beating faster against his ribcage. Stomach twisting and turning. Instead of pulling his wide frame towards him, he gets on his tiptoes. Just a little. Enough for his lips to meet Simon's who leans down slightly. It only takes a few seconds for him to fully adapt to the height difference between them. Strong arms tighten around him. As if holding him tight enough will stop him from ever going away again. As if he never wants to let him go. As his big arms hold him close, he could've melted in an instant. He feels safe. Finally at home.

Ghost kisses him with an urgency that might’ve been reserved for life-or-death situations. Not the love and tenderness he’s showing now. Soap's eyes flutter close immediately. Giving into the moment completely. Enjoying his surprisingly soft, plush lips on his. The faint taste of beer still lingering on them. Mixed with his very own note. Simon's lips part ever so slightly and his own follow suit. His tongue flicks against his in an experimental gesture, as if testing the water. He gently pulls Soap in closer, his arms holding him tighter. And the sergeant's arms are now wrapped around Ghost's neck. Holding onto him just as much as he pressed close. He feels safe with him, in ways that words couldn't possibly describe. Their kiss deepens, becoming passionate and aggressive. Tongues exploring inside each other's mouths, teeth grazing against lips. Their breathing is quick, ragged. Barely able to hold themselves back anymore. Senses clouded not only by the booze from earlier but now with so many more sensations. It is intoxicating.

His tongue moves against Johnny's quickly. It feels like his passion is increasing with each passing second. Like something inside of him has broken free, releasing all of the pent-up emotions he’s been storing within himself. The embrace becomes more forceful; pressing their bodies together tightly. Soap begins to feel dizzy, almost overwhelmed by the rush of sensations running through his body. And then, Ghost pulls away from him gently… Slowly, reluctantly, letting go. His breathing slows a bit, though his chest is still heaving as if he’d been running a marathon.

Soap immediately takes a deep breath as well. Looking up at him as his eyes open again. Chest moving rapidly, lips curling into a grin. He lets a few moments pass before whispering. "You know... I think I'm okay with breaking rules here and there..."

Simon smiles warmly, his expression a complete contrast to the intense way he was just looking at him a moment ago. He still holds that loving gaze but now he seems like he’s content in the present moment; as if nothing else in the world matters. He even relaxes his grip, letting a hand slip off of him for a moment. “I second that...” His voice is softer now, the husky tone gone away. He lets his eyes trail towards Soap's mouth again, his hand slides back onto his cheek. Stroking it tenderly.

The smaller man lowers his balaclava again. Neatly tucking it back into the collar of his shirt. Patting his chest with a grin. "Freezing my butt off out here. Let's get movin'. I think we have the whole night to talk about a few things... And who knows..." He takes Ghost's skeleton gloved hand into his own as he starts walking again, dragging him along. His lieutenant chuckles slightly and allows him to take his hand. He nods as he lets him lead the way. The snow falling, the city sleeping… It’s all so peaceful.

Simon remains silent for a while, watching his sergeant walk in front of him. He seems like a different person now; the soldier who could barely show any emotion, who spoke in short, curt sentences and kept himself closed off, is now replaced with a man who smiles like a boy who’s gotten everything he wanted this christmas.

He still looks at Soap with tenderness, though his eyes are now filled with love.

Simon Riley was a human with emotions after all. He was more than the murderous beast the military made of him. He was more than The Ghost.

But most importantly.

Simon Riley was in love with John MacTavish

[redfurrycat]

👮‍♂️🤠🕴️🐓Bradley & Jake: un duo très spécial 🐓🕴️🤠👮‍♂️

I'm so happy to share the amazing art that I commissioned from @forsty. It is linked to a fic I'm working on, a White Collar au with con artist Jake Seresin and FBI agent Bradley Bradshaw. [You can have a look at this post and this other post for more details about the general plot.]

GORGEOUS piece of art, ain't it? 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

[Thank you so much for this baby, Fors, and also thanks to @thebahwrites for handling the comms part! You both did a lovely job! 😘]

WARNING. Be respectful of the art and the artist who did it. Do not be an art thief like Jake once was [lol still is!]! 😘

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Double, Double Boil and Trouble - Part 3

A/N: This is part 3 my fic for the @rare-clone-fic-exchange, which I wrote for @goblininawig. Part 4 coming soon! The story takes place in a shared continuity with Stars Beyond Number, Martyrs and Kings, and “Do It Again,” but it stands alone and can be read independently of those fics.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Boil x Reader (GN; reader practices tasseomancy/reads tea leaves) 

Rating: T, but minors DNI

Wordcount: 2.5K

Warnings and tags: fluff; banter; DJ spent way too much time on a visual gag; angst

Summary: You and Boil test the limits of the GAR comms filter.

Suggested Listening:

Part 1 | Part 2 | Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

gars-best-stache: You up? languishing-in-obscuri-tea: Are you seriously booty calling me at four in the afternoon? gars-best-stache: It’s not a booty call. I’m halfway across the galaxy. Just thought your species might be nocturnal. languishing-in-obscuri-tea: I’m human, you stale baguette. gars-best-stache: You sure about that? languishing-in-obscuri-tea: [MESSAGE REDACTED BY GAR OBSCENITY FILTER] languishing-in-obscuri-tea: WTK, they censor your messages? gars-best-stache: Everything gets scanned when we’re deployed. languishing-in-obscuri-tea: [MESSAGE REDACTED BY GAR OBSCENITY FILTER] languishing-in-obscuri-tea: That’s a *heck* of a way to live. Happy now, censors? languishing-in-obscuri-tea: HA! It worked! gars-best-stache: You’ll have to tell me what you were trying to say next time I’m on Trip Zip. languishing-in-obscuri-tea: TF is Trip Zip? gars-best-stache: Coruscant languishing-in-obscuri-tea: Do I want to ask for an explanation, or is it something boring? gars-best-stache: It’s boring. Let’s talk about something much more interesting: me. languishing-in-obscuri-tea: [MESSAGE REDACTED BY GAR OBSCENITY FILTER]

That was how it started. Simple, mundane messages about your day: he’d complain about his bunkmates’ snoring; you’d describe the most bizarre patrons you saw wandering into the bar next to your shop. He’d send you holos of his favorite gunship nose art; you’d send him silly things you found on the holonet. 

languishing-in-obscuri-tea: Where you at? gars-best-stache: Headed to Kiros. GAR rations are disgusting. languishing-in-obscuri-tea: Sucks to be you. I’m eating crumblebuns and spiced tea right now. gars-best-stache: Maker, why would you tell me that? Are you trying to torture me? languishing-in-obscuri-tea: Mmmmm, crumblebuns… gars-best-stache: I hate you. gars-best-stache: …  gars-best-stache: Can you send me a holo?

Galactic time zones being what they were, Boil’s messages were sporadic and unpredictable. More than once, you lay awake all night, exchanging messages for hours, never talking about anything serious, but strangely reluctant to stop. 

gars-best-stache: Saw this bird while I was on patrol, reminded me of you.

languishing-in-obscuri-tea: First of all, that bird is glorious, and I’ll take the comparison as a compliment. Secondly, [REDACT] you. gars-best-stache: … did you just redact your own message? languishing-in-obscuri-tea: I wanted to be sure you got it. Where you at? gars-best-stache: [MESSAGE REDACTED BY GAR SECURITY FILTER] gars-best-stache: Oops, guess it’s classified.

By unspoken agreement, you both kept things light. Boil had a hard enough time opening up in person; there was simply no way he would be willing to show the vulnerability you’d glimpsed in a holomessage that was subject to GAR scans. 

gars-best-stache: How are things in the con-artist industry? Taken any unsuspecting tourists for all they’re worth lately? languishing-in-obscuri-tea: Careful. I might hex your pillow so it’s never cool again. gars-best-stache: That the best you can do? languishing-in-obscuri-tea: Not even close. I could curse one of your boots so it always squeaks, or make it so your caf is always either too hot or lukewarm. gars-best-stache: Oooh, I’m so scared. languishing-in-obscuri-tea: Tremble before my wrath.

Some days, he’d send dozens of messages; others, only one or two. Sometimes a week would pass with no word from him, and you knew he must be in active combat. The churn of anxiety in your gut would worsen with each rotation until, at last, your datapad would chime and send you scrambling to check your messages. Not that you told him this, of course. You’d send some flippant comment and go back to your usual lighthearted exchanges.

languishing-in-obscuri-tea: Where you at? gars-best-stache: Hyperspace. languishing-in-obscuri-tea: Am I allowed to know where you’re going? gars-best-stache: Nope. What did you do today? Aside from luring innocent victims to financial ruin, I mean. languishing-in-obscuri-tea: Went to the charity shop. gars-best-stache: Get anything good? languishing-in-obscuri-tea: I found the perfect gift for you. gars-best-stache: Aww, you bought me a present? languishing-in-obscuri-tea: 

gars-best-stache: [MESSAGE REDACTED BY GAR OBSCENITY FILTER] gars-best-stache: My stache is amazing! How dare you. languishing-in-obscuri-tea: That’s certainly one word for it. I’m amazed every time I see it. gars-best-stache: As you should be. languishing-in-obscuri-tea: Amazed that none of your brothers have held you down and forcibly shaved it off. That thing is a crime against sentients. gars-best-stache: Didn’t realize it was a crime to look this good. languishing-in-obscuri-tea: I’m calling the Corries. gars-best-stache: They’ll never take me alive!

One of the things that surprised you was just how kriffing boring GAR life was when the troopers weren’t risking their lives in active combat. The tedium and monotony of long hyperspace jumps with nothing to do and nothing to look at except the endless gray of durasteel walls—your soul shriveled at the very idea of such a drab existence. 

Of course, for Boil and the other clones, the alternative was the deadly chaos of the battlefield. It was no wonder the troopers were so ready to hit the entertainment district and blow off steam during their shore leaves. Thus, you took it upon yourself to entertain him.

languishing-in-obscuri-tea: I look hot as K today.  gars-best-stache: Holos or it didn’t happen. languishing-in-obscuri-tea: What’s the GAR policy on spicy holos? gars-best-stache: Wait, what? languishing-in-obscuri-tea: [IMAGE REDACTED BY GAR INDECENCY FILTER] languishing-in-obscuri-tea: I guess that answers that question. gars-best-stache: WHAT WAS IT?? languishing-in-obscuri-tea: 😏 gars-best-stache: You’re killing me. languishing-in-obscuri-tea: Where you at? gars-best-stache: Headed to Sarrish. Might get messy.

“Hellooooo,” Tas called, waving her hand in front of your face. “Anyone home?”

You glanced up from your datapad, blinking as your brain struggled to switch  gears. You stashed your datapad and gave the Dathomirian an irate glare that she definitely hadn’t earned.

“Don’t you have some runes to cast?” you asked.

“Nope, but one of your regulars is here,” she replied.

You peeked out into the reception room and spotted a clone trooper. He was wearing civilian clothes, but he wasn’t hard to identify. As he turned his head, you spotted the distinctive scar on his jaw—courtesy of a lightsaber, he’d once told you—and your mouth went dry as your heart began to pound.

“I think he has a crush on you,” Tas teased.

“He definitely doesn’t,” you muttered.

You quickly straightened your clothing and glanced in the mirror to make sure you didn’t have anything in your teeth. Straightening your shoulders, you plastered on your patented brilliant smile and walked out to greet him.

Not all armor is made of plastoid, you thought grimly.

He glanced up as you entered, his eyes as cold as ever. The broken nose was new, though. No doubt it had been well-earned. You were briefly envious of whatever lucky individual had broken it.

“Hello, Hart,” you said. “Welcome back.”

He nodded, and his eyes flicked past you to Tas. His jaw tensed, and you intervened quickly before he could say something awful to her. She might have been a Nightsister, but she was the softest marshmallow imaginable, and you’d be contractually obligated to murder Hart if he hurt her feelings. Not that you had any particular objection to the idea, but bloodstains were so hard to get out of the carpet. Best to avoid them if possible.

“Right this way,” you gestured toward your reading room.

“I know,” he growled.

You ushered him into the room and closed the door. “Is there any particular advice or guidance you need today?”

Like maybe a complete personality transplant?

“Cut the kark,” he said. “You know why I’m here.”

You felt your teeth clench, and you suspected that your signature smile might have briefly morphed into a snarl before you recovered.

“Indeed, I do, Captain,” you said in a voice so artificially sweet you could practically feel the cavities forming. “But my readings take at least fifteen minutes, so you might as well get comfortable if you don’t want anyone to suspect why you’re really here. Would you care for tea?”

“No.”

Suppressing the urge to roll your eyes, you rummaged through your tea cabinet until you found the tiny latch you were searching for. You flicked it open, and the back of the cabinet slid down to reveal a hidden compartment. You withdrew a small case and handed it to Hart without a word.

He opened it and glanced through the contents.

“It’s all there,” you said.

He grunted, then glanced impatiently at his chrono. “Kriffin’ hell, how has it only been three minutes?”

You shrugged and began to brew a pot of tea. “Might as well make the best of it.”

He grumbled, then reluctantly asked, “Do you have any of those chocolate biscuits from last time?”

“Those are only for people I like,” you replied. “You can have the boring ones.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, but still ate the plain biscuits you gave him. You assumed that Hart’s sweet tooth was even bigger than most of the troopers’ to offset his general sourness.

“Milk? Sugar? Lemon?” you offered more out of habit than hospitality.

“You have milk?” he asked.

You pulled the bottle out of your mini-conservator and passed it to him.

“I’m taking this,” he said, then he grabbed the packet of biscuits. “And these.”

He stood and strode toward the door.

“It’s only been ten minutes,” you pointed out as you followed him.

“Longest of my life,” he snapped.

You didn’t bother to suppress your eye roll this time. He threw open the door to your reading room and headed for the exit, pushing past Tas wordlessly. She watched him with an expression of astonishment, and when the door slammed behind him, she turned to you.

“Was that bantha milk?” she asked, baffled.

“Yeah,” you replied. “What a kriffin’ weirdo.”

“Hmm,” she said contemplatively. “Kind of hot, though.”

You snorted. “Maybe if you have a thing for sociopaths.”

“He can’t be that bad,” she laughed.

“He’s worse. Want a cup of tea? I’d just finished making a pot when he decided he didn’t require my services today.”

She gasped in faux outrage. “The nerve! You’re right; sociopath isn’t a strong enough word. Clearly, he’s a monster.”

“Exactly,” you replied. “Now come help me drink this tea and tell me what horrors your nightmare of a flatmate has committed recently. Is he still doing that thing with his feet?”

You didn’t hear from Boil for several days. You had more or less expected this, but still, his silence made you restless. It wasn’t so bad at first. The shop was busier than usual because the palm reader had traveled to his home planet of Aldhani for Mak-ani bray Dhani, leaving you and the rest of your fellow mediums to pick up his customers. Every night after the shop closed, you dragged yourself to your flat and collapsed straight into bed, endlessly thankful that the Eye of Aldhani only happened once every three years.

Of course, once you were in bed, your mind would begin to race, wondering where Boil was, whether he was safe, when—or if—you would see him again. Inevitably, you would get up after a few hours and settle onto your sofa with a cup of tea while you practiced the mind-calming techniques your grandmother had taught you so long ago.

One such night, as you sipped your tea and levitated a sugar spoon in tiny circles in front of your face, a thunderous crash sounded outside, rattling your windows and instantly obliterating your concentration. The spoon clattered to the floor as you rushed outside to investigate. 

On the walkway in front of your shop, beings of every imaginable species stumbled out of the various bars, clubs, and shops. Speculation ran rampant: was it another Separatist attack? Another Zillo beast incident? Sirens began to blare in the distance, but no further disturbance occurred, and eventually the walkways began to clear out as people either drifted home or returned to their revelry.

The next morning, you awoke in a bed drenched with sweat. Your apartment was stifling. Groggily, you stumbled to the window to slide it open, but it was even hotter outside.

“What the kriff?” you mumbled, grinding your palm against your face to clear your bleary eyes.

Your datapad flashed with a notification indicator, and you snatched it up, hoping to see a message from Boil at last, but instead, you had a missed comm from Tas. You called her back immediately.

“Tas, what’s going on?” you rasped, your voice hoarse from sleep. “Why is it so hot?”

“Did you hear that big boom last night?” she asked.

“Yeah?”

“It was the district relay substation for the planetary weather control system,” she said. “Coruscant WeatherNet said it could be days before it’s repaired.”

“What?” you asked, aghast. “What about air filtration?”

“They’re trying to compensate with other relay stations to keep it livable.”

“Do you think we should close the shop until it’s repaired?” 

“I doubt we’ll have many customers,” she said. “I’m more worried about you, though. The rest of us don’t live in the district, so we’re all safe. Do you have somewhere you can go if it gets bad?”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling very alone and vulnerable in a way that you hadn’t felt in years. “Not really.”

“Then you can come stay with me,” she said firmly. 

“What about your horrid flatmate?” you objected. “Won’t he object to me crashing on your couch?”

“Who cares?” she asked. “We’ll outnumber him.”

Reluctant to cause even more tension between Tas and her flatmate, you waffled. “Maybe I’ll stick it out for now. If it gets bad, then I’ll come stay with you.”

“Are you sure you want to wait that long?”

You shrugged, forcing an optimistic tone. “Maybe it’ll be fixed soon.”

“Maybe…” she said doubtfully.

“Look at it this way. The Entertainment District is a huge credit-cow for Coruscant. They won’t let it go on too long and risk losing all that tourist revenue.”

“Good point,” she replied. “Well, if you change your mind, my couch is super comfy, and you already have my door keycode.”

“Thanks, Tas,” you replied gratefully. “You’re the best.”

You ended the call and prepared for a few very uncomfortable days. It wasn’t ideal, but you managed. The air quality never did get as bad as you expected, but the temperature grew steadily warmer. Against all odds, you managed to buy a small climate control unit—the last one in the store, and you nearly had to fight an Ishi Tib for it, but you set it up in your studio and ran it round the chronometer to keep the flat livable. For the first time, you were grateful for how tiny your studio was; if it had been any bigger, there was no way the little unit would have been able to cool the space.

As Tas predicted, no customers came to the shop, so at least you didn’t have to worry about closing up. It was a strange sight: the Entertainment District, silent and completely deserted. Empty walkways; empty nightclubs, bathed in the neon signs advertising closed businesses to an audience of nobody. It was kriffing eerie, was what it was.

If you’d thought it was hard to sleep before, you were nearly frantic now. The silence was overwhelming, accustomed as you were to the endless roar of traffic and thumping of dance music. Eventually, you found an ambient noise station on the holonet and let it play nonstop.

And just when you thought things couldn’t get any worse, they did.

Five days after the relay station failed, you turned on Republic HoloNet News to see a headline that knocked the air from your lungs: “Overwhelming Republic Casualties at Sarrish; GAR in Full Retreat.”

Boil.

---

A/N: the mug says, "Galaxy's okayest mustache." Both pictures by me 🧡

[teethflavoured]

new pinned ! bc the last one was outdated.

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vincent / morgan - she/they - 20 years old

comms - merch shop - carrd

hi, welcome to my page. i'm an artist from deep inside the midwestern wildness that may or not be a vampire. this is my main art blog, i draw sillies and spookies (basically whatever i want) i'm very chatty so any asks are welcome :)

✧ art tag - #teethdraws

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✧ rambling tag - #teeth talks

art with gore, blood and horror will be tagged accordingly, though i don't tag specifics unless i feel its needed.

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my art occasionally features horror, gore and other potentially disturbing things. please check the content warning in my carrd. however no disturbing content i showcase here is in a sexual context. if you sexualize traumatizing things and violence fuck off and dont come back until you've gotten a grip.

PLEASE DO NOT LEAVE SEXUAL COMMENTS ON MY ART OR OBJECTIFY THE CHARACTERS I DRAW. I WILL BLOCK YOU. JUST BECAUSE THEY ARE MEN DOESNT MAKE IT OK.