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#another doodle thing before I start making more

my-insanity-is-an-artform · 2 days

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Woe, Crack Baby Shitten au be upon thee.

(@bamsara 's little doodle of Nari being dubbed Cult Babysitter and holding a little lamb irrevocably changed my brain chemistry. So of course, I'm now making it everyone else's problem with the headcanon that Narinder is good with children of all ages.)

A couple of months before Lamb gets captured, they meet another lamb or a very small flock that have to split up very quickly after meeting since there's more chance of the lamb species surviving if they aren't all together. In the meeting, Lamb agrees to try continue the lamb species and gets pregnant via *magic* or afab.

Of course, all of the lambs are captured and killed with Lamb being the last, still a few months away from giving birth.

But then they are chosen and resurrected by The One Who Waits.

Fun fact: a fetus can survive for a few minutes after the death of the carrier. (Also this is a world with magic and gods in it. Logic means nothing to me.)

Lamb starts their cult, crusades across the lands and meets all sorts of allies and enemies. All while quietly mourning their entire species and the child that never would be.

Right up until they go into labour.

The baby is lamb through and through with soft wool, wide eyes, tiny cloven hooves and floppy ears.

But the influence of the crown is blazingly obvious since the baby's wool is jet black and they have three red eyes.

I can't tell which would be funnier. Lamb giving birth in The Lonely Shack or while they are physically in The Gateway just post-beating Leshy. Like they were in active labour right throughout fighting Leshy and had no idea. Either way, it's Shocked Pikachu .jpeg all around. (My fucking KINGDOM for a doodle of this.)

Various dot point shenanigans under the cut

There are two ways to go about this. But either way, Baby is not staying in the Cult. Too dangerous, especially if word gets to the Bishops about there being another lamb. So Lamb can and will speed-run this shit. So it takes them about 4-6 years to fully defeat the Bishops.

Baby stays with Ratau:

Lamb goes and yells at TOWW. They are panicking because they have no idea how to raise a probably-half-god baby.

Narinder has no idea what happened right up until Lamb comes in screaming about him being a Baby Daddy and child support.

Ratau is Grandpa now. This is his fate. He embraces the Grandpa life.

Baby learns how to play knucklebones before they can speak.

Shrumy tries to wager with Lamb/Ratau for the whole Baby. Once and only Once.

Baby's first word is dice. Or die.

Baby worships TOWW, but they are a Baby and don't really comprehend worship so the small shrine gets a lot of flowers, neat rocks and some drawings. Narinder always gives a lot of gold for them. And No, it's not favouritism. Shut up.

Baby knows curses. This is concerning for everyone except Baby.

Baby gets a little TOWW doll. It's their favourite, it goes everywhere with them and washing it is a nightmare for everyone involved.

Baby is jokingly referred to as TOWW's most Devoted Follower because of the doll.

↑ this action will have consequences.

When Baby is not so baby, they make stuff out of their wool for TOWW and for his disciples. Or asks their parent to help them make stuff.

Cue Lamb awkwardly giving the three some very wonky scarves or hats.

Baal loves it.

Aym refuses to take his off. Ever.

Narinder is actually upset cause his doesn't fit. He's too big. He had to wear it like a little ring.

Or Baby stays/is brought to the Gateway ala Aym and Baal situation:

If Lamb gives birth in the Gateway, everyone is getting a free midwifery education and free trauma. The cats want a refund.

Ya know when a baby instinctively clasps their little hand around a finger and it's like a crime to pull away? That but with Narinder's big ass claw that Baby can only barely cling to.

Aym cries the first time he holds Baby.

Baal straight-up refuses to give Baby back for a good hour.

Lamb visits at least once a day.

Lamb also brings baby things since a baby will do what a baby will do.

Depending on how old Aym and Baal were when they were gifted, Narinder is either learning all of this for the first time or is reminded of how challenging baby care can be.

Narinder purrs = a zonked Baby.

Baby's first word is Vessel.

Baby is taught to fight. Lamb doesn't like it but accepts it.

Baby has a little lamb doll. It is only due to the fact the afterlife doesn't have dirt that they avoid the nightmare of trying to wash it.

Baby is jokingly referred to as TOWW's most Devoted Follower since they refuse to be parted with him for long.

↑ this action will have consequences.

Lamb teaches Baby about being a lamb and if Aym and Baal join in, well who are they to deny their child's only friends/guardians this?

Narinder and Lamb figure out how to get Baby to teleport to the Living World and Baby gets to visit Grandpa Ratau.

Post-game shenanigans.

Narinder: Give me back my crown. Lamb: Ok. Sure. Narinder: I will now sacrifice my most devoted follower (the Lamb) for my freedom. Lamb: *Kill Bill sirens*

Lamb somehow doesn't kill Aym and Baal and instead kidnaps them via Indoctrination Circle out of spite/ reluctance to hurt them.

Narinder feels betrayed that the Lamb would refuse like this and kidnap his acolytes. He was going to resurrect them! He can't fully commit to raising a child while being the God of Death.

Lamb feels betrayed that Narinder would want to kill their child. After all they've been through together! After the way they saw him treat Baby with such gentleness and now he wants to kill them?!

This comes out in the very final moments right before Lamb goes to give the final blow.

Narinder: You are a vengeful false idol and a traitor! Lamb: At least I'm not a monster who wanted to kill my own child! Narinder: Wait. What.

This devolves into a massive argument with divorced-couple vibes.

Narinder is insulted and a bit hurt they thought he would kill his own child.

Lamb is hurt that Narinder would just demand their sacrifice without even talking to them about the whole situation.

Either way the lesson learned is Narinder needs to be more blunt and Lamb needs to not jump to conclusions.

So they are left with a newly usurped Narinder and a newly crowned Lamb. Oops.

Baby is with Ratau when all of this is going down.

Baby is happy their family is all together properly. Baby is Not Happy about this whole cult thing demanding attention from Their Baba.

The Cult is baffled by the sight of their leader with both a baby and a Spouse? Bitterly Divorced Ex? Estranged Co-parent?! What ever it is, most of them have elected not to touch the whole situation with a 10ft barge pole.

Baby learns what the word Father is and how that word refers to Narinder.

Baby calls Narinder Father/Papa/Daddy. Instant KO.

Narinder somehow gains a small hoard of children that like to follow him. Baby Does Not Approve.

Baby also Does Not Approve of this newly formed rift between their parents.

Cue Parent Trap level of Shenanigans.

Aym and Baal are recruited.

The Hoard of Children are recruited. Baby now Slightly Approves.

Narinder and Lamb have an Actual Conversation after the 18th time they get locked in the confessional together.

This of course evolves into Narilamb.

Bishops are saved from purgatory.

Despite all attempts otherwise, Baby is introduced to them.

Shocked Pikachu .jpeg x4

Maybe after a few more years, not-so-baby Baby wants a sibling.

This got so much longer than I thought but yes. Shitten Shenanigans: Accidental Child Acquisition flavoured.

#cult of the lamb #cotl #Shitten Shenanigans Au #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #narilamb #true devotion #Cotl Aym #Cotl Baal #Cotl Ratau #accidental child acquisition #at least on Narinder's part #long post #I once again do not go here #this got longer than I thought it would #Bam's brain is SO wrinkled and I want to lick it

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eddie4bat-president · 3 months

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Saw a drawing of Steve and now I'm suddenly thinking about artist Eddie who designed the Hellfire shirts and Corroded Coffin fliers and who draws the villains of his D&D campaigns to slap onto his DM screen for visual aid and doodles in class and-

And i'm thinking about Steve, in a relationship with Nancy, trying to ignore that things are rocky but knowing it all the same. He finds a notebook left behind in school and he only takes it because he forgot his own. He plans to use it for the day and then figure out whose it is and get it back to them in exchange, that's probably more than fair, right? And the person is really gonna want this back - it looks like half their life is contained in this thing; there is... a shit ton of loose paper stuffed between the pages and notes on all kinds of subjects and drawings and.... he doesn't even know what that is. Who is Vecna and what the hell is a... lich?

Anyway as he leafs through it he finds that some of the drawings are... actually really good. Like, absurdly good for being in a lined notebook that looks like it has taken a trip into a dumpster and picked up some debris on the way out.

Like! Those hands! Steve has no artistic bone in his body but he's heard people whine about drawing hands and - he looks at the hand not holding the book and back again - yeah, that's exactly what hands look like! And here - a few pages further (it's one of the most empty pages of the whole thing, mostly because this one seems to have started as a drawing and not as a page of notes that turned into a drawing) there are only a few lines on the page but it's still very clearly the back of someone's neck, the collar, one shoulder.... Then there's another one that is almost all lines, but they were all carefully placed to give the effect of perfectly windswept hair. Then there's one that he actually can't make sense of at first (he almost pages past it because it is just a few lines and dots taking up a quarter of a page of very annoyed... history notes? Maybe English.) It's just a jawline with some moles but... only the day before he had cut himself shaving a finger's width underneath those exact moles. And that's when it clicks. He goes back to the hair... yeah that- that could be him too. Maybe. He flips back to that one very detailed drawing of hands and... putting down the book he tries to get his hands into the same position - the angle is off but. Yeah. That's why they looked so perfectly...! Uhhhh... Handsy! Because they're his fucking hands!

Anyway Steve realizes that about a third of the drawings are or could be him. He realizes that he actually can't go through with giving it back because - what would he even say? "Hey found your notebook, nice shrine to me?" Yeah no. But he's... also reluctant to take it to the Lost and Found. There's something in the handwriting.... He has a feeling that it might not be a girl secretly drawing him. What if someone else connects the dots? What if they confront the mystery artist about it? Flashbacks to his fight with Jonathan, the line he crossed and immediately regretted. He doesn't want to be the cause for someone else getting called that. And unrelated to that, things with Nancy aren't great right now and it's... it's just nice to think someone is paying attention, alright?

Then Halloween happens a few days after. The Break-up(?), the demodogs, Billy and the tunnels- and afterwards it's nice to have the notebook to distract him from the pain. The mundane mystery of a schoolmate maybe having a crush on him. He might not even have to confront them - he can just figure out a way to slip it into their locker; it looks like at least half their schoolwork is crammed into this thing, no matter how half-heartedly done. They definitely want this back.

Man, I wish I could actually write this thing. Damn. Maybe I could even do a scene where Steve tries to Sherlock Holmes his way to Mystery Artist and confronts a (hatefully seething) Robin, because she sits behind him in that one class, only to find his own Watson in her instead. But alas. It cannot be.

#as usual this is as good as it's gonna get #steddie #steddie season 2 au #steddie ficlet #hey i'm talkin' here #steddie fic prompt #steddie notfic

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gi4hao · 22 days

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☆ dino x gn!reader — domestic fluff!

☆ from repairing a sink to love confessions on the kitchen floor

9pm is right around the corner, and you know for a fact that your boyfriend is far from being done with repairing the leak under your kitchen sink. but of course he won’t accept defeat, which is why you resorted to having dinner on the floor, sat next to him to keep him company.

“you really should go lie down on the couch” chan tells you from beneath the sink, his voice muffled and punctuated by the clinks of his tools. “this isn’t good for your back.”

he’s not wrong, this position is definitely not the comfiest even though you managed to rest against a piece of furniture. but the view isn’t so bad here, you think to yourself, contently watching his arms flex as he twists and tightens metal pieces here and there.

“but if i leave who’s going to feed you those baby tomatoes?” you ask, looking at the half-eaten bowl in front of you.

putting his tools down, he emerges from under the sink with a contented sigh, stretching his limbs as he sits upright. “you’re such a simp” he chuckles, yet still gladly opens his mouth for you to throw yet another tomato inside.

with an exaggerated scoff, you put a hand over your heart in mock offense: “excuse me? says the biggest simp ever?”

the thing is, you don’t even mind being called a simp; you’re lucid enough to know that it’s only the truth. similarly, chan doesn’t mind it either, but it’s just so much more entertaining to deny and act like it offends him.

“if there’s a simp in this room it’s definitely you. and allow me to tell you why…” you tell him as he returns to the small confined space below your countertop.

you don’t even have to make an effort to gather your thoughts, countless examples just flow naturally into your brain: “first of all, you always carry me on your back when we’re walking back home from a party. you kiss me goodbye every morning even when i’m still asleep. you have a picture of me in your wallet, i’m your phone and ipad wallpaper. also, you keep a secret box on your side of the closet where you put all the receipts from our dates…”

a few seconds of silence follow your words.

when you lean to your side to finally catch a glimpse of your quiet boyfriend, it turns out he’s looking right back at you, a surprised expression painted on his face: “i didn’t know you knew about the box.”

suddenly, he gets the funny sensation that you’re definitely going to win this round.

“i know many things” you affirm, a satisfied smile on your lips as you keep going: “i know that you always keep one of my doodles in your phone case. i know that you bought duplicates of my skincare products to keep in your car as an emergency kit. and i also may or may not have heard you talk to seungkwan about me…”

this time, it’s a loud bang that comes to punctuate your sentence. but before you can even start to worry, chan yells a reassuring “i’m okay!” before getting out of there once again, “just dropped my tool, that’s all. but now let’s circle back to what you just said…”

with a chuckle, you notice a slight embarrassment spreading on his face, his cheeks turning a familiar shade of pink.

your relationship has never been a secret, so it wasn’t a surprise to know that he likely spoke about you to the other members. however, you hadn’t truly considered the nature of those conversations until a few months ago, when you had sort of eavesdropped on a discussion.

“don’t be embarrassed” you reassure him, a playful spark in your eyes: “it was nice to hear you describe us as a “perfect match” and feeling like “a married couple already, but in the best possible way”.

at this point, his surrender is palpable. “okay, you win. maybe i am a simp,” he concedes, a mixture of defeat and self-consciousness coloring his voice. his shoulders sag slightly, but his gaze is still full of affection. “i can’t deny it anymore. just like i can’t deny that I’m not a handyman. i actually have no idea if I’m fixing this thing or just making it worse.”

“i think it’s time to leave the plumbing to the experts,” you tease, taking the screwdriver out of his hands, “let’s bail on this floor and go cuddle on the couch; i’ll order some proper food.”

with just those words, he flashes you a bright smile, one that you know so well you could sketch it from memory. as he rises to his feet, he looks at you earnestly: “i meant what i said to seungkwan, you know,” he confesses, his voice softer than usual.

you take a brief moment to let his words and his sincerity sink in: “i know, baby,” you reply, your own voice matching his softness as you grab his hand to get up. “and that’s exactly how i feel too.”

his smile grows even bigger, relieved to see that you not only understand the depth of his love for you, but reflect it back to him as well. it’s all he’s ever hoped for, really — to find someone he could trust implicitly, someone he could pour all his love into, knowing it would be returned with the same intensity.

“we really are made for each other,” he states, giving you a proud nod as he pulls you close, arms wrapped around your waist.

“yeah, look at us. in love, both clueless about fixing that sink. perfect match.”

with a heartfelt laugh, chan gently rests his hand on your neck, pulling you closer for a kiss; the kind that lingers for a few more seconds than what you expected. just enough time for the both of you to think about how lucky you are to have found each other in this lifetime.

requests are open!

#can’t believe it’s my first time writing for dino i’m so ashamed #but it’s finally here!!!!!#dinonaras rejoice!!!!#seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #dino x reader #dino fluff #dino imagines #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt fluff

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gaypirate420 · 8 months

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Stars // Jasper W. Hale.

Jasper Whitlock-Hale x gn!reader.

Summary: You're bored in class and doodle on Jasper's arm.

Fluff. Jasper's Battle Scars.

A yawn scaped your lips as you stared down at your teacher as she gives a lecture that is not registering on your mind at all. She's talking something about the history of Forks, you don't care, she's boring and it's making you sleepy.

You stared down at your notes, empty except for today's date, your eyes travel to your right to find Jasper actually paying attention and writing down what he finds useful.

"Isn't that a bit useless?" You whisper to him, Jasper's eyes meet yours and he smirks, he raised an eyebrow.

"Writing down notes for history, I mean, I don't think you need notes, you where there." You explained, whispering very low the last part, Jasper lean over closer to you.

"I don't, but you need them, darlin'." He whispered back with a small smile. You smiled and felt your cheeks warming up after hearing the nickname. Your hand went up to his messy hair and brush it down with your fingers, he smiled at your action and let you be.

He quickly stealed a kiss off your cheek and kept paying attention to the class as if nothing happened while you felt your cheeks burning.

Jasper saw how your attention went to anything but the class, you took your pencil case that's full of scrunched up post its and colorful pens and started doodling on your notebook.

Jasper doesn't mind helping you, he gets to spend more time with you and you get a handsome vampire tutor to explain you what you missed over and over if necessary and never gets angry.

The vampire looks back at the teacher, as he hears your pen moving all around the page.

He feels you lifting the sleeves of his sweater and cursing under your breath when you found his dress shirt.

"So many layers, can't even get cold." You murmur teasinly, if it wasn't from his increased hearing he would miss little things like this. Jasper smirks and continues to write before he feels the pen against his marble skin.

He stayed still for a second, his eyes moved to look at you.

You can't see them, his scars, not all of them. But the ones you do seem to be treated with extreme care as you started doodling on his pale arm.

They don't itch, they don't hurt, but, for him, it felt so nice, so important.

Jasper felt flustered, almost like his dead hearth skipped a beat at the sight of the tender scene.

You drew stars, it felt right. You smiled widely as you keep adding more and more, along with little hearts and even a flower on his forearm.

"Do you like your tattoos?" You whispered with the cutest smile he's ever seen. Jasper nodded.

"You're very talented, pumpkin." He could feel your heart skipping and of course your emotions going wild. He smiles as your happiness rub off on him.

"Now you do mine." You offered your pen to him, Jasper looked back at the teacher who spoke nonsense by now, he could make the teacher look like fool on another day for now he smiles and picks up the pen.

His icy cold fingers gently grabbed your arm, bringing it closer to him, you felt a shiver down your body at the sensation.

Your felt the tingly sensation of the pen against your arms, making you giggle silently.

Jasper drew flowers, some skulls that matched your wristband and of course, stars. Your eyes admired him, his blonde hair falling on his face and his furrowed eyebrows showing the absolute dedication to this task.

"There, sugar." He spoke gently, you looked at your arm and grabbed his hand. You saw his wrist and with your free hand you passed two of your bracelets from your wrist to his.

Jasper smiled again, it's odd for him to doing that so many times on so little time, he's getting giddy in the best way possible.

"Now we match." You spoke with an excited whisper. Jasper nodded, your eyes went wide with an idea.

"We should wear matching outfits one day." You smiled wider at the thought. The vampire nodded in agreement.

"That's a great idea, dear." His golden eyes looked at you before he leaned and kissed your lips.

"Mister Hale." The teacher called his name and he pulled away from you, your cheeks were burning again and you looked at the floor in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, Miss." Jasper spoke with a victorious smirk as the teacher's frown disappears and turns into a smile, and of course the rest of the class magically turning their heads from you and Jasper.

"Don't worry about it." The teacher spoke with a following chuckle before returning to give her lecture. You giggle softly and shaked your head in mocking disapproval.

Jasper steals another quick peek on your lips before focusing back to writing notes for you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Little fluffy one shot for y'all, I'm working on the requests do not worry. Hope you like it!

#jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock hale #jasper whitlock #jasper hale #jasper whitlock x reader #x male reader #jasper hale x y/n #jasper hale x male reader #effervescent #the twilight saga

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ssavaart · 4 months

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Sometimes You Have to Make 100 BAD Drawings To Get 1 GOOD One

(Earlier this year, a publisher asked me if I'd be interested in writing a book on art. As we discussed it... they asked me to "give it a try" and this is one of two tests I did. I don't consider myself a writer, really, so this is just "in my own voice". I wound up turning down the offer... but would love to know your thoughts on this. Thanks)

Drawing something good. Something you like. It’s… elusive. Especially when you’re just starting out.

But, here’s the thing. You have good art in you. I promise. You just have to get to it and it’s stuck under a bunch of bad art. Really bad art.

When I was younger, I would draw every day. Filling up sketchbooks with doodles and sketches and I hated ALL of them.

Page 01: Crap

Page 02: Crap

Page 03: Crap

Page 04: Worse than Crap

Page 05: What even is that?

Page 06: Ugh

And it was just downhill from there…

But… somewhere around like page 100… I made something that… “wasn’t crap”. I actually didn’t hate it.

And that gave me courage to keep going. That one drawing made it all worth it. I was cured. I was now an expert. All of my art would be great from now on.

Oh… if only.

The next drawing was worse than any other drawing before it.

How??? I just made ART! like 5 minutes before that. I got all the bad drawings out! How did my art just go from Van Gogh to Van NO???

Honestly? I… got lucky. That one good drawing? Total fluke. Dumb luck. Sheer Happenstance.

Doing 100 drawings didn’t suddenly make me an expert. It couldn’t.

Have you ever heard of the saying “If a million monkeys type on a million typewriters for a million years, they’ll eventually write Shakespeare”?

I was those monkeys and that drawing was my Shakespeare.

I just pooped out enough bad art that eventually sheer luck was going to mean I may make something really good.

And I’m TOTALLY okay with that. I was 11. I’m not a prodigy. I don’t have any special gifts. But what I did have was… a taste for how making good art felt.

Seeing that one good drawing made me want more. Like my first time tasting chocolate ice cream. I was hooked.

So, I made 100 more bad drawings. Maybe more. And, guess what? ANOTHER great drawing emerged!

Another Shakespeare from this 11 year old monkey!!!! Huzzah!

From then on… I knew that all I had to do was keep banging away at that typewriter (I’m still on the million monkey thing… bear with me) and I would get rewarded with another masterpiece.

Week after week. Month after month. I would fill up my sketchbooks with the most horrific, amateurish, incomprehensible art… and, sure enough, 1 of every 100 drawings would not suck.

I would show it to my mom and she would say “Oh! That’s wonderful!” and when she tried to turn the pages to see more, I would quickly SNATCH it out of her hands and run back into the shadows like Gollum hiding his “Precious” from prying eyes.

I dare not let her see the monstrosities that came before the work of genius.

And… this went on. For years. Predictably. Rhythmically.

Until, one day… my 75th drawing was really good.

How? It was 25 drawings early! That’s not how it was supposed to work. That wasn’t the plan.

But there it was. A really amazing drawing of a spaceship I came up with out of my head. It had lasers and a cockpit and wings and…It was glorious. And it was totally unexpected.

Maybe NOW I was an expert and I no longer needed to make bad art? Would today be the day I would only make masterpieces?

I quickly turned the page and began to draw what would soon be my second greatest work of art and… NOPE.

Still crap.

Hm. But… something was different. It was still crap. But… it wasn’t as “crappy” as the other crap.

I grabbed my previous sketchbooks and looked at the bad drawings from previous years and… guess what? My older bad drawings were WORSE than my newer bad drawings!

Apparently, the more I drew… the better my BAD drawings got too.

Okay. So. I drew 75 more “not as crappy” bad drawings and… predictably… I made another great drawing!

I was… IMPROVING.

This went on for years. I went to high school. Then art school. I hated MOST of my art… but as I practiced… the number of BAD art I had to make to get to the GOOD art got lower and lower. Soon it was 50 bad pieces for 1 good one. Then 25. Then 10.

It took decades when I noticed… I liked my art more often than not.

It was a complete surprise. I was in my 40’s when this happened. I was SO conditioned to just accept I was going to hate my art that I hadn’t noticed that I had made 5 paintings that didn’t suck. IN A ROW!!!

Unheard of!

But, there it was. 5 good paintings. One right after the other.

The 6th one was complete trash. Tossed it in the garbage.

But, the 7th one? I liked. And the 8th. And the 9th.

I’m now 54 and I know I still have SO much bad art in me. I can feel it. Always ready to pop up and ruin my day.

But, I “pooped out” so much bad art over the years that I’m not really worried about those pop up bad art surprises. I know it’s just temporary.

I like my art now. And that’s because I got MOST of the bad art out of me and into those old sketchbooks.

I know it may seem daunting doing 100 bad drawings just to get to 1 good one. But… if you love that feeling of making that one GOOD piece of art… you need to be patient and get the bad ones out. They’re blocking the good ones. Keeping them deep inside you.

So, crack open that sketchbook. Poop out those bad pieces of art and never look back.

You’ll thank me in like 40 years or so. I promise.

(Oh. And sorry for all the poop references. I’m still that 11 year old when it comes to humor)

Poop.

#making art #creativity #artists #creating #art advice

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artfromsaturn · 4 months

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Collection of Free Art Tutorials

I don't usually make text post on this blog, but a nice artist I know was asking for tutorials a while back and I forgot to send some to them while in school. So here's a post on it since it's easiest to grab and go this way. :)

This list focuses on the basics. I'm focusing on the foundations of art, so medium is generally irrelevant and you can use physical or digital with these. You'll have to google more specific tutorials on things like character design and such.

One of the biggest pieces of advice I can give to you is strangely, introduce things to yourself one at a time. In art class, we took whole topics week by week. For high school, we did a few exercises then spent a week drawing/painting and doing your piece(s). For basic art 1 & 2 in college, we did 1-2 exercises and then did 1-2 drawings, followed by HW (which we turned in next week) and sketchbook practice (which she'd check at midpoints). For basic art lessons with a tutor, we did practice then our own art. You can see the pattern here - the point is don't be distressed if you don't get everything at once, or the lesson in 2 weeks, or the lesson in 3 years - we practice and do a lot over time, and you'll pick up on things you need to improve naturally and through help with others. Take time to be proud of your art in mini steps too, even if it's not the best! You tried and attempting to climb an obstacle over and over again before finally leapfrogging it is still progress to it.

Overall tutorials:

DrawABox.com is a site that's dedicated to art exercises and practicing when you can. They talk about the basics of art as well as how practice is important. It can get tough at times and it's ok to stop and do a balance of say those practices and doodles if you choose to try and do all of it's stuff - but you don't have to either. It's just a nice basic education done by some art nerds who like going hard.

Ethering Brothers - these guys are famous for their 40billion tutorials. If you need help on a specific idea, search their gallery and you'll likely find something.

Thundercluck's Art Fundamentals - She did a good huge ass tutorials on how things work, and it's the least overwhelming of the 3 I got in this section, so I suggest it as one of the first to look at for digital stuff.

Art Instructions Blog - Another good & simpler website that goes great into fundamentals. They focus more on traditional art but if you're digital, you can replicate most of the techniques - art fundamentals and subjects cover all mediums. Very important

Drawsh - Particularly notes on Construction: construction is the basics of building an illusion of a 3D image on a page. Figuring out how to build shape gives depth to your work, and learning how to see in 3D lets you be able to draw an item then move it around in your head (sometimes, when you're good enough, don't be afraid to pull out a reference or use live subjects). Construction is how to figure out the foundation of your drawing, and good planning = better picture! This link starts at the back, hit newer post to go forward.

There's a lot on anatomy and other nitty gritty details for when you want to practice those as well.

Griz and Norm's Assorted tips - Long time artist talk about various tips and tricks they use in art and how to avoid certain pitfalls. It's eclectic but great to look through.

James Gurney's Blog - He's got a lot of thoughts, a lot of tips, and a lot of adventures he catalogues. It's the least organized out of these but fortunately he has plenty of tags and most post have something neat going on. He's fantastic!🥰

BEFORE ALL OTHER BASICS….

How to Make Your Art Look Nice: Mindset

There's a lot of artist with different perspectives on how to approach art and your mindset while doing it, but the general consensus is that it's a process and sometimes you have to remind yourself to enjoy art!

Line

How to draw straight lines without a ruler. …but for the love of all that's good do NOT feel bad about using one! This talks about how to hold your pencil and how to do some good freehand stuff, some good practice.

5 grips for holding a Pencil for Drawing - This goes for pencil, pen, tablet, etc.. Get comfortable and figure out what's right for you and your pictures. I'd like to note that paintbrush holding will overlap, but some will differ.

A few line drawing exercises that help with line confidence.

Types of line drawings & what they are.

Contour Line & exercises with Mrs. Cook - Contour lines are one of the first art exercises I do in all the drawing classes I've taken. The good news is that they're surprisingly fun & look neat, even the blind contours!

Good deep thoughts on lines and how to use them.

Line Weight Tutorial

Lineart Weight Tips!

How to show variation in your line art: part 1 & part 2.

Some teacher's Drawing 1 & 2 lessons put online.

Light, Shadow, & Value

An introduction to tonal values.

Why values are important. The main reasons are that they give depth to a piece, and values literally shape our world.

Tonal Values: Everything you need to know

How does light work & the basics on Light

Light & Shadow in Art - much more in depth of the above! Highly recommended if you have time to spare.

Understanding grayscale/monochrome art. Great for shading & planning.

A guide to Cross Hatching (and hatching in general) - As a side note, crosshatching is one of the early things taught as it marries Line + Value into a nice neat package and helps add form with just a pen.

Crosshatching for Comics

Learn more about coloring by working in grayscale

How to Make Your Art Look Nice - Contrast!

Using lighting to make your art look nice.

Some light & shadow classifications.

Edges - notes on how they work in shading.

Color

A side note - color theory doesn't differ much, but color MIXING will change between mediums. If you're doing traditional colored pencil, you're overlapping 2 or more pigments on top of each other. If you're doing traditional paint, you're mixing & creating a solution/emulsion (depends on the pigment and binding) of pigments with the particles reflecting light in different ways. In digital, overlapping colors & blending colors depend on how the program you use calculates it if you're not just putting 2 color side by side. This just means you have to adjust your mixing when you switch between them. :)

Slawek Fedorczuk's Light & Color Tips - also shows how to guide through a scene.

The Color Tutorial Part 1 & 2 by Sashas - A personal favorite.

Color Studies 1-6 by Sheri Doty Amazingly nice breakdown on how color works in simple terms.

Sarah Culture's Tips on Color

The value of underpainting

A few notes on reflective light.

Experimental color techniques with Alai Ganuza: first post, second, & third.

Color zones of the face charts

Composition

Good Tips on Composition

Here's an example of how you can search the Etherington Brothers' stuff and get like 10 tutorials and tips on one subject. Composition & Cover Design, Shadow Composition, Two Line Composition - plus more.

How to make your art look nice: Thumbnailing!

And don't be afraid to make silly thumbnails or sketches.

Composition Examples - charts like these are great when you can't think of something yourself. There's no shame in using them.

Flow and Rhythm

Formulas for landscape composition.

Perspective

Perspective Drawing Tutorial by Julie Duell

Linear & Atmospheric Perspective Guide

One Point Perspective City Tut by Swingerzetta

Niso Explains Perspective - these are great for drawing figures in perspective!

Putting characters into scenes and drawing backgrounds

Backgrounds that make your character stand out!

Using background detail to guide the eye.

Odds and Ends

I shit you not, probably 1/3rd of my color, value, & structure knowledge comes from pixel art since I've done so much of it and it is all about challenging yourself to do the most you can with limitations. Check out lospec's tutorial database for fun and see how it compares to art techniques you're doing - even if you never try a medium, it's always interesting to see how it works. :D

How to Make Your Art Look Nice: Reference Images & Style, Pushing Proportions, and developing style.

Foervraengd talks about how he expanded his comfort zone with concept art & landscape drawing.

Luna Art talks about what they're thinking when doing concept art.

Repeating visual motifs in character design looks cool.

Eric's Thoughts on Drawing Backgrounds and Props.

Show vs. Tell: Why Visual is Not Optional in comics.

The Lost Vocabulary of Visual Story Telling Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, & Day 4.

Traditional Animation's 2 Digital Library books, The Know-How of Cartooning by Ken Hultgren & Advanced Animation by Preston Blair are two books from the golden age of animation they have up on their site for free viewing!

Animation resources dot org has a lot of cool stuff. Here's Nat Falk's How to Make Animated Cartoons (part 1). Their pages on Instruction & Theory are a good start.

Books

Good news: the internet archive has a TON of resources. Make sure to check around and toggle filters, it's a bit weird with organization. For example, a book can be under art or drawing - techniques, depending on who catalogues it.

Andrew Loomis is someone artist tend to die-hard reccomend. His work is collected here & here on the internet archive (one is Andrew Loomis, the other is Loomis, Andrew - thanks). I own Figure Drawing for All It's Worth and I recommend checking all of his stuff out, especially if you're having trouble with bodies and hands.

The Animator's Survival Guide by Richard Williams is mandatory in animation classes for good reason - it's fantastic!

Perspective for Comic Book Artist by David Chelsea is great for any type of artist. So is Extreme Perspective & Perspective in Action.

Scott McCloud's Understanding Comics, Reinventing Comics, & Making Comics. The first one is on the internet archive, the second two are likely avaliable at your library or at a bookstore as they're pretty popular.

Speaking of comics, Drawing Comics the Marvel Way has been a favorite of comic artist for years no matter what comic book companies and artist you like, it's a good introduction.

Anything by or endorsed by James Gurney, Color and Light: A Guide for the Realistic Painter is one of my favorites (this is his official page but you can get them elsewhere for cheaper too).

Art resource blogs with good tagging systems: @artist-refs , @help-me-draw , @helpfulharrie , @art-res , @drawingden , & @how-to-art

Lastly, I suggest if you find something you like online for free, SAVE IT! Whether it is through the Wayback Machine, screenshotting a whole webpage, reblogging/retweeting something, or putting it on pinterest, digital media is fickle and tends to go up in smoke when you least expect it. I have a partially organized Pinterest board that helped me find most of the stuff I wanted to keep. Figure out what works for you and save what you can.

#tutorials #art resources #art tutorial #tutorial #txt

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hairmetal666 · 1 year

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It starts in Eddie's second senior year, close to the beginning of the semester. Eddie's in trig (again). He's good at math, but Mundy fucking sucks, always giving Eddie shit for breathing, or his shoes squeaking on the linoleum, or whatever, and he ends up with detention most days. So, he hardly ever shows and can't be bothered to do the homework, even though he knows the answers more often than not.

On this particular day, Mundy is in a bad mood, on Eddie's case way more than normal. In the heat of frustration, Eddie scrawls, "I fucking hate this class" on a scrap of notebook paper, and for reasons he can't begin to explain, leaves it folded on the window ledge. He doesn't think anyone will answer; fully expects the paper to be gone come morning with maybe another detention slip under his belt to show for it. He's a little flabbergasted, the next day, when the note is still there, and loses his mind a little when he sees the words "tell me about it" underneath his first message. He doesn't recognize the handwriting, sloping and a little looped, and for most of the class period, he's too bemused to respond. Right before the final bell rings he scrawls, "trig. You?" He leaves the paper on the ledge again. "Algebra 2 :(" is the response.

They keep it up, just a few words at first, before Eddie accidentally doodles on the page, and the other guy scribbles a hasty formula, the math spectacularly wrong. There's a little arrow leading to the words, "this shit sucks." Eddie re-writes the formula with the correct math, leaving careful notations of how and why. The next day he sees, "Shit, dude, I totally get this now. Mundy should retire and let you take over." Which pleases Eddie down to his core.

The messages get longer, nothing super personal, but complaints about life, math help, Eddie's silly little doodles, bad jokes, the slightly lewd drawings typical of teen boys. Eddie's never had a better attendance record in his life, but there are some days where his notes are left unopened. Most remarkably a couple week period before Thanksgiving, where he goes unanswered for so long he figures whatever thing they had going is done. But after the holiday, the notes start up again, with no acknowledgement they ever stopped. Eddie doesn't bother questioning it.

They keep it up almost all year, and they're definitely friends, even though they're totally anonymous. And that wouldn't have changed, except it's the day before spring break and Eddie's vibrating out of his skin with anticipation of the time off, so he forgets his dnd notebook in Mundy's class. He makes it all the way to Click's before he realizes, then sprints back across the school. He crashes through Mundy's door, tripping a little over his own feet.

"Sorry," he pants. "I just left--" he looks over to his desk, far corner right by the window, and then forgets every word he's ever known because Steve Harrington Steve Harrington King Steve, stares right back at him. And he just. He stops and fucking laughs, because all this time--this whole goddamn year--it's been Harrington he exchanged notes with. And sure, the jock's star has fallen in the last few months, with the breakup with Nancy and all that shit with Hargrove, but it's still Steve Harrington. With his big house and his fancy car and his girls. It's pretty Steve Harrington, the focus of Eddie's most hopeless daydreams.

He has a few seconds to see Harrington's hazel eyes go wide, before Eddie spins on his heel and makes a hasty exit. He absolutely doesn't spend the break thinking about the notes, matching what Harrington wrote with the gossip Eddie heard on him from the past few months.

Once break ends, he doesn't bother going to Mundy's class at all.

The Friday of the first week back, Eddie walks out to his van, only to find King Steve leaning up against it. He's doing that obnoxious thing where he has one leg bent, foot resting against the side panel, arms crossed over his chest, stupid hair falling in glorious cascades around his face. It's ridiculously, unfairly attractive.

"What do you want?" Eddie asks. He opens his front door without fully looking at Steve.

"Can we talk?"

Eddie snorts, "what could you and I possibly have to talk about."

Steve narrows his eyes. It's so bitchy and so fucking cute it makes Eddie queasy. "You know what."

"Enlighten me, Harrington."

"C'mon, man, the notes!"

"What about them?

"Don't be stupid, Munson, you know what. Why'd you stop?"

Eddie pulls a pack of camels and his lighter out of his jacket pocket. "Lost its appeal once I knew who was on the other side. Surprised you even want to keep it up now that you know you've been writing to the freak."

He pointedly ignores the little jolt Harrington gives at that, like the words hurt. Which is pretty rich from Steve Harrington, former #1 bully of Hawkins High.

"I've always known it was you," he says.

"You don't--wait what?"

I've known since, like, the first week, Munson."

"How??"

"What do you mean 'how,' dude, you're always drawing little pentagrams and d20's. Writing the word "Slayer" over and over. Who else would it be?"

And he can't even deal with the fact that Harrington knows what a d20 is (what the fuck) with everything else the other boy just said.

"I gotta go," is his only response. He ducks into his van, slamming the door basically in Harrington's face, before peeling out of the parking lot.

✏️✏️✏️✏️

It's the last day of school. Eddie's failed again. His grades, which weren't great to begin with, took a sharp nosedive after spring break, and he just can't wait to be done with this place for a few months. Harrington hasn't spoken to him again, and Eddie tries his hardest to ignore the other boy (aside from seeing him hanging out with Robin Buckley, a junior and a band geek, besides, and he forcibly has to remind himself that he doesn't care what Harrington does).

He slouches into his last math class of the year, slumping over in his seat. He rests his head on his desk, eyes blankly staring out the window as Mundy talks about what a joy most of them were to have in class. His eyes are unfocused, he contemplates a nap, and then he sees it. The tightly folded piece of paper resting on the window ledge.

Eddie almost doesn't take it. He almost ignores it, but he physically can't stop himself for reaching for it, unfolding it, staring at Harrington's now familiar handwriting.

Hey man, I'm pretty sure I fucked things up with us, and I owe you an apology. I've always known who you were, but you had no idea I was me. Buckley helped me see how that maybe freaked you out a little. I know I used to be a piece of shit. But I'm better--or I'm trying to be. And I'm so fucking sorry for the shit I did to you before and the things I didn't bother to stop. You don't owe me forgiveness, but you should know that I regret all of it. I liked passing notes with you. You made me laugh, and I don't know. It was nice to think someone liked me for reasons other than that I'm Steve Harrington, or whatever. I'd really like it if we could be friends. I get if you can't do that or don't want to.

Whatever the note actually ended with is scribbled out in pen so thick Eddie can't make it out.

All day he thinks about the note, the apology, all of it. Eddie thinks, if he's smart, he won't forgive Harrington. That he knows better than to trust him. But Eddie's never actually been that smart in this way, so he's not totally surprised to find himself walking to Steve's car after the last bell rings.

This time, Eddie's the one with his foot resting on the side panel of Steve's BMW, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn't have to wait long before Harrington makes his way to the car, chestnut hair dancing in the breeze, biceps on display in a short-sleeve polo. A little smile dances across his lips when he spots Eddie.

"So, you gonna tell me how you know what a d20 is, Harrington, or do I have to guess?" Eddie offers the other boy a cigarette.

"Babysitting?

"Babys--Are you serious??" Eddie splutters. Steve Harrington babysits. Steve Harrington babysits little dnd playing nerds. Steve Harrington wants to be his friend.

A full grin spreads across Steve's perfect face and Eddie is absolutely, 100%, fucked.

(Part 2)

(Steddie Notes is now posted in full on ao3!)

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taocard · 10 months

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soft headcannons with tr

♡ I grant a wish for whoever summons me and take one thing as a payment ♡ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ♡when Baji gets bored gets bored, he doodles on your hands. but if you don't like that he will draw all over your scrap papers that you're using to finish your homework ♡if you have a favorite scent (pumpkin, lavender, ect..) Mitsuya will spray it all over his room to remind him of you. especially when you come over so that he can make you happy with the smell ♡Chifuyu calls you late at night to ramble about the thoughts that are keeping him up (an anime or manga he finished), and he loves it when you do the same ♡Souya links pinkies with you whenever you’re out in public but Nouya prefers holding your entire hand ♡Inui is a sucker for when you play with his hair or massage his scalp ♡Wakasa likes when you trace random shapes and letters over his skin, and it becomes a game of some sorts for him to guess what you're tracing ♡Izana is the type who’ll set up a blanket on the roof of some penthouse for you two to lay on and look up at the stars together ♡Sanzu is going to melt if you kiss his scars and making a comment about how all of him is beautiful ♡if you come over to Souya to give him a hug, Nouya will ALWAYS pop up with a grin and says, “what about me?” ...they're a package deal :)) ♡When you need Kakucho’s opinion at a clothing store for if you look good, he will always say “you look wonderful in that” because he looks at you like you're a god from another realm ♡Koko will tell you if something isn't your style. he isn't afraid to tell you because he’ll magically have something in his hands that looks a million times better ♡Koko will always buy you the newest product from this beauty line you like before you even learned something new was out ♡you know how they say when someone is in love, they tend to copy habits of who they love? Sanzu does this by having notifications set on his phone that involve your likes because he's starting like almost everything that you do ♡Inui loves when you hug him from behind. it doesn't matter if he's cooking, talking to Koko, or doing anything really. he likes having you close to him and enjoys the feeling of you nuzzling into his back ♡Shin is a total simp for you. he has a picture of you on the back of his phone, a picture of you in his wallet, an album on his phone that's just photos of you, and even has one in his coat pocket. at this point it's like he walks around with a shrine of you ♡Mikey learned from his older brother, and when he's talking to his friends and all of a sudden, his eyes will light up and he’ll say “oh this reminds me of this thing y/n did the other day” which then begins his long ramble about you. even if the conversation has nothing to do with you, he will always find a way to bring you up ♡Mitsuya has a sketchbook that is only filled with wedding dresses/suits with the idea and mind that you will walk down the aisle wearing one of these ♡Izana likes it when you sing as he plays his guitar even if you're awful and have so many voice cracks. he finds it adorable ♡Chifuyu has a picture in his phone somewhere of you napping with Peke J on your chest ♡Sanzu has your coffee order memorized. whenever he goes out to get coffee, he always orders you a cup as well. it's become such a habit that he's accidentally bought you coffee when you already had one ♡the first time Ran saw you doing skincare he was mesmerized. so, he wanted to join you and dragged Rin into it (despite the younger’s protests). now it's become a habit to do skincare with the Haitani brothers ♡Mitsuya may be the caretaker in your relationship, but it’d just make his entire morning if you were to give him breakfast in bed ♡Chifuyu enjoys laying his head on your lap and hearing you read the light novel version of his favorite manga ♡Ran likes when you braid his hair for him. he secretly swings his braids around more harsh and crazier than usual when you do his hair just so that he can see you sigh and start to do his hair again and feel you brush it and stuff ♡Rindou loves cuddling but is too nervous to initiate so he’ll just sit and mope next to you on the couch until you realize. luckily you notice rather quickly because he won't stop fiddling with your sleeve ♡if you're cold Kakucho will IMMEDIATELY try to warm you up. this man is putting his scarf around you, trying to warm your hand by holding them in his, even giving up his whole coat and setting it on your shoulders, ect ♡as we all know Mitsuya takes care of Luna and Mana, and he just loves seeing you interact with his sisters. he likes seeing how comfortable they are with you and how they always ask, “when's the next time y/n-san comes over?”. It’s one of the things that made him realize he's in love with you ♡when you and Mikey cuddle, he’s lying on top of you and falls asleep to the sound of your heartbeat ♡if you and Hakkai are out doing something together and your mom calls you to check up on you, he gives you the perfect silence you need. but right before you hang up, he’ll quickly exclaim “tell her i said hi!” ♡whenever Kazutora wants to hug you or give physical affection he always asks for permission first. for example, “hey baby can i-and you don't have to say yes- can I hug you?” please let him hug you and kiss his forehead :((

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smeddiemunson · 1 year

Text

(part 1 here)

After they narrowly escape being fucked up by what Eddie had planned for them (a goblin ambush they were completely underprepared for), the Hellfire members took their sweet time in clearing up after themselves; an unspoken agreement between the older members to hang around long enough to see just how Eddie behaves around Steve.

Gareth didn’t think Dustin had figured it out. He just connected dots he doesn’t know are on the same playing board, Eddie’s mystery crush and Steve’s favourite song nothing more than a coincidence. Or at least Gareth hoped that’s how it’s playing out, he knew it took a lot, more than his posturing would ever imply, for Eddie to reveal his big secret to the band. He didn’t want Eddie to have to confront that again until he felt ready, even if it is just to some kids.

Jeff was kneeling on the floor, reaching under the table where he pretended to drop a bag of dice when Steve began to make his way down the stairs.

Over his shoulder he called out, “Thank you, Mrs Wheeler!”

Jeff didn’t see the way Eddie perked up just at the sound of his voice, but Gareth and Grant certainly did.

“Are you flirting with Mrs Wheeler again, Stevie?” Eddie teased, ignoring the way Mike retched and groaned about it being gross.

‘Stevie?’ Gareth mouthed to Grant, who just shrugged. Nicknames are a dime a dozen when Eddie decides he likes a person. Gareth had been Gare-Bear for as long as he’d known him, Jeff was Jeffy, and Grant got to be ad-Grant-age. Stevie was a bit different, Stevie was close, affectionate in a way that the nicknames that usually spilled from Eddie’s lips weren’t.

This was maybe worse than they thought.

The last crush Eddie had was there and gone almost in a blink of an eye. Connor from his home room who doodled stick figure drawings of their teachers to pass to Eddie every morning until the jocks got to him and Eddie was cast aside again. But for two precious weeks, Eddie was happy, nice, and didn’t freak when Grant snapped a guitar string that meant they couldn’t practise until he got his hands on a replacement.

This was wholly different. Steve didn’t even bat an eyelash at the affectionate tone, in fact, Gareth thought he saw a faint pinkness colour his cheeks; though he didn’t know if it was just the heat of the basement that did it.

“Convincing her you haven’t yet corrupted her children more like,” Steve laughed.

Jeff, who had now appeared from under the table, made a half aborted motion towards Mike that only Gareth and Grant could see from their side of the table. There was no question that Eddie had sunk his claws into Wheeler and the boy was fully corrupted. If they didn’t know better, they could’ve confused Mike for Eddie’s brother, the resemblance now so uncanny.

Eddie smiled. A real one that took up his whole face and made his eyes sparkle.

Definitely worse than they thought.

Steve turned to the kids. “Henderson, you’re with me. Byers you’re with Eddie. Sinclair, I trust you can walk next door without supervision?” He glanced at his watch while Lucas nodded as if this weren’t the first time he’d been questioned in such a way. “And we’ve got thirty minutes until curfew so get moving.”

The kids, naturally grumbled but they didn’t argue, which was yet another weird thing for the Corroded Coffin boys to experience. Those kids argued with everything.

“Oh hey, Ed, Argyle is getting in late Friday night so pool party at mine on Saturday. You in?” Steve dug his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, trying to act casual, as if he didn’t care about Eddie’s answer. But it was clear as day to Gareth, who didn’t even know him, that Steve really really cared.

Eddie’s face fell. “Sorry, band practice on Saturday. We’ve got a show coming up so…”

Gareth jumped in before he had to watch either of them start crying. “You can go after, Eddie. My mom’ll kill me if we spend all day in the garage anyway.”

Steve’s face lit up like it was Christmas morning.

Now Gareth couldn’t be certain, he wasn’t certain about anything in his life except for his love of Iron Maiden and the reality that he was never leaving Hawkins, but he was fairly sure Steve Harrington might just return Eddie’s feelings.

“Awesome! Hey, you guys should come too! It’s only gonna be a small thing: me, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan and his friend Argyle.”

“Um, thanks, but—“ Jeff cut off in his refusal with a groan as Gareth and Grant not so subtly dug their elbows into his stomach.

They were going to have to spend more time in the orbit of Eddie-and-Steve if Gareth was going to be able to figure out if feelings were a two way street. He wasn’t super excited about the prospect of spending all afternoon playing nice with rich kids, but he’d done worse things for the sake of making Eddie happy. He could do this as well.

“We’d love to!” Grant filled in a little too excitedly. Gareth shot him a look that hopefully conveyed his need to calm down.

“Where do you live?”

Steve smiled. “Teddy knows, he’s been enough times. Oh and you’re welcome to crash after, if you want. There’s enough space.”

“Teddy,” Gareth echoed. They all knew about Eddie’s mom’s nickname for him. Eddie’s dead mom’s nickname for him, and the way he never wanted a reminder.

Steve laughed. “Yeah because he’s just so cuddle-able!”

Eddie, through clenched teeth and a bright red blush, hissed. “Shut up.”

Oh and his eyes pleaded with Gareth to let it go, that they wouldn’t talk about it later.

Clue 5. Eddie was completely aware of how smitten he was.

“We’ll be there, Harrington,” Gareth said, the finality on the matter that Jeff would be arguing with him about later.

Steve smiled so wide it was almost blinding. He left with a squeeze to Eddie’s shoulder, hand lingering longer than necessary, and Dustin moaning about why the kids hadn’t been invited to a pool party.

There were two things Gareth knew for sure. One: Eddie wasn’t just crushing on Steve Harrington, he was well on his way to being in love with him. Two: Steve was either just the chillest guy alive (unlikely) or he returned Eddie’s feelings.

Either way, Gareth had some meddling to do.

(part 3)

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #my fic #gareth emerson #corroded coffin #this is getting away from me #if you asked to be tagged in part 2 i'm very sorry i haven't done that #it was really hard to keep track of and i didn't want to accidentally leave someone out

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u3pxx · 11 days

Note

PLEASEEE can you elaborate on the gavinners i cant stop looking at them theyre so pretty

sometimes i forget that outside of my friends and servers, i don't really talk much about my gavinners boys* huh! so basically, i originally wanted to make them so i could beef up turnabout serenade in my roleswap au, kind of like turnabout samurai where you have a lot more characters which in turn means a lot more suspects!

but then i realized, wait, i need to make them in the canon-verse first before i could make their swap au counterparts! and so now they exist pftt

here y'all go, i'm gonna be copy-pasting the character descriptions i wrote for them during art fight pftt <3

🥁 DEIDRE MINUENDO

Height: 5'7" (170 cm), 5'9.5" (176) with boots on Birthday: Jul 7 ♋︎ | Pronouns: He/Him, She/Her, They/Them

Deidre is the seemingly gloomy and stoic drummer of the band The Gavinners! At first, it could be difficult to get a read on them but despite all that, they're just like that because they prefer saving their energy. It might not look like it, but Deidre enjoys company even if they're not the most chatty with it and thrives the most when they are around other people (she prefers it if she's around the people closest to her though). Deidre is pretty sensitive and an emotional person even if they don't outwardly express it. To the people close to them, Deidre has a sarcastic streak and can be pretty snappy when it comes to teasing. She can dish it but she can't take it however as they can get slightly irritated when they're teased back. Even if they are a rockstar, they can get embarrassed when people praise or say nice things about them to their face, he tends to brush affection if even if he is secretly flattered by it (he's not gonna admit it though pftt) They also enjoy doodling here and there and like stuffed animals (they have a few of their own!)

Deidre was the closest to Daryan so the events of 4-3 affected him immensely. They felt betrayed and confused and tried to deny that Daryan would be capable of taking another person's life; they scrambled to do everything to protect Daryan from omitting information and even lying on the stand. In the end, all of their efforts were for naught and they felt incredibly guilty for what they've done, especially since she started antagonizing Preston when he was starting to suspect Daryan. They cut themselves off from the group, their job, and stardom. They ended up severely depressed and started to rarely go outside anymore. Only Doremy (Daryan's twin, also a close friend of his) was able to reach him during this time while Viva tried to but he kept refusing to see him. It took them a long time to finally be able to reconnect with the group and it took them a lot of help and support to be able to be well again. Deidre carries Daryan's betrayal to the group heavily and it took a while for her to start forgiving herself.

⚡ VIVA CHI

Age: 25 | Height: 5'9" (175 cm) Birthday: Jan 1 ♑︎ | Pronouns: He/Him

Viva is the lively and energetic bassist of the band The Gavinners! Though he may seem goofy and a little unserious, he actually is pretty responsible and is the mediator of the band (as the eldest brother of his siblings and the eldest of the band, he kind of made that his responsibility). He's a forensic scientist and has always had an interest in science alongside music ever since he was young (he thinks Ema is very pretty but she finds him annoying pftt). Viva was the last one to join the band when they were all in high school and despite his extroverted personality, felt a little shy at the time getting to know a new group of people (it's because Preston was there who he may or may not have crushed at while in high-school.) He's a lover of all things caffeinated (especially energy drinks though he should really pace himself) which isn't always the best match to the fact that he's got terrible anxiety and thinks himself down a spiral when he gets too worried.

Once the band disbanded after the events of AA4, Viva, though left in a bad place with his anxiety shot through the roof, fared better compared to the other members. He tried his best to keep in touch with everyone with varying successes despite Daryan's arrest being fresh and hurt. - visiting Daryan in prison to hear his side of the story - popping in to check at Preston in his office because the guy started to take worse care of himself - contacting Deidre even if she was trying to isolate and cut herself from everyone and looking out for Klavier even if he buried himself in his work He took a break from music like everyone else, he still hopes one day they can meet up and play music again, not even as a band, but as a group of friends who loved creating music.

🦇 PRESTON KEISS

Age: 25 | Height: 6'1" (185 cm) Birthday: Oct 25 ♏︎ | Pronouns: He/Him

Preston is the mysterious yet magnetic keyboardist of the Gavinners! Tall, dark, and bewitching; Preston is aware of the impression people have of him at first glance and likes to use that preconception to surprise and even catch people off-guard by purposely being silly or crass. He has a number of odd quirks and mannerisms that he doesn't realize he has, people tend to notice but they often let it pass because he is very handsome (pretty privilege lmao). Preston can sometimes be mischievous and finds certain things amusing only to him even if others don't find it as funny. He's always had an interest in horror and the macabre ever since he was a young boy which developed into a great fascination with the special effects used in old and new horror films alike. (He can be a bit jumpy when watching movies even if he loves to do it, he can't help it if the movie gets to him!) He plays up his whole immortal vampire schtick because the fans tend to theorize if he really was one. (He is not, he'd love to be one though pftt) Preston is very stubborn and adamant about his opinions and can be difficult to sway if he thinks he's correct; he is also quite awkward when it comes to personal matters, as can be seen in his strained relationship with his older sister and whatever romantic thing he's trying to achieve with Viva. He's used to acting larger than life when the cameras are on but being raw and honest has him feeling a little embarrassed and stilted. Preston smokes and keeps it a secret. (Don't tell Viva that!)

Preston was the first person in the band to start suspecting Daryan which he mostly kept to himself at first but wouldn't deny when you asked him (Deidre did not like that.) After Lamirior accused Daryan in court, Preston was determined to make Deidre confront the truth (unfortunately, not taking in why Deidre might be upset and in denial about it) which caused them to have a fight (with Viva being unsuccessful in de-escalating it.) After the Gavinners disbanded, Preston didn't feel very well after Daryan got sent to prison and lost contact with Deidre (whom he hasn't talked to since the case. [he misses them.]) He seemed fine afterward with his workload seeming to increase though upon closer inspection, he's started taking worse care of himself, skipping meals, and losing his interest in music. Preston has a lot of baggage to sort through regarding his friends and his family that will be difficult and painful for him to confront, but rest assured, he's gonna come out of it happy and well.

and here's a compilation of some very old turnabout serenade drawings too :^]

(i didnt make dei's bday turnabout serenade on purpose, it was a tragic happy accident DFGHDJ i wanted his bday to be 7/7 bc i made daryan 6/6 but then the date. i realize the date orz)

#also i dont think ive mentioned this before but ive been thinking about preston being somewhere in the autism spectrum too :^]#ace attorney #deidre minuendo #viva chi #preston keiss #klavier gavin #daryan crescend #the gavinners #sunnysidedoodles #den's gavinners tag #den's ocs tag #sunnysideanswers #id in alt text #described

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hxjikonn · 1 year

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Hi, dear! Congratulations for the 143 followers! I hope by time you read this the followers has already grown past 143! You deserve that much of love because your writing is just so amazing! I hope more people can found your account and love it just like how I love it to the core!

If you don't mind, can I request a short scenario of Azul, Vil, and Malleus (separately) with a gn s/o who likes to wear his clothes in private? Like, when the character enters his room, he found his s/o wearing his dorm uniform and trying to mimick his usual action in front of the mirror. What will they do?

A/N: WAIT STOP THIS IS TOO CUTE 😭🥹♥︎ HOPE YOU LIKE HOW I WRITE THIS ONE!! sorry it took too long for me to respond too🥹

Play dress up

☆Staring☆: Azul Ashengrotto, Vil Schoenheit and Malleus Draconia.

Synopsis: Their reaction to their s/o wearing their clothes

Azul Ashengrotto

You poked his cheek again, getting impatient, he sighs and looks at you, you had a visible upset pout on your face that caused him to chuckle slightly “My little sea angel, can you hold on just a bit longer? I’m almost done” he pleaded whilst turning his attention back to the papers on his desk.

You groaned and sat on the floor, you were bored out of your mind waiting for him, “this is the third time you’ve said that…” you mumbled, “I know…I know, I’m sorry, I’ll be done shortly okay?” He cooed kissing your forehead. You looked up at his desk, he still had so much to finish… “Azul, maybe I should just go home…you look really busy and I don’t want you to rush if because of me” you stood up from the floor.

He pulls you closer to him causing you to lightly plop on his lap, “Noooo don’t leave. I promise I’ll be done soon…” he whines squeezing your waist with his arms. You yourself really didn’t want to leave aswell, so you nodded and promised you’ll stay.

“You can wait for me in my room, it’s much comfier there” he says and you lit up with excitement, there were only a few instances where you got to stay in Azul’s room, and be all by yourself…he never really left you there in fear you’d find his pictures from when he was younger.

“Kay!! I’ll go set the movie!! I’ll wait for you byeee!” You stood up from his lap and ran out, Azul could only laugh in both nervousness and adoration from your excitement. When you got there your eyes sparkled with curiosity, you didn’t wanna make a mess of course but you sure did take your time to look and search every corner of his room.

You did find his album and maybbeeee took pictures of his baby photos on your phone, when you had nothing to do and Azul still hasn’t arrived, one particular thing caught your interest. His closet

You skimmed through his clothes and found another pair of his dorm uniform, probably from his first year since it was a bit smaller than his new one, an idea popped in your head and you hurriedly changed into it. And yes you even included the fedora and scarf.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and giggled, though it was a smaller version, it was still a little big for you, you took pictures and posed while laughing. Then you start to remember Azul’s little habits and started acting like him.

You sat on his desk pretending to do paper work “Later Y/n, I’m busy with boring papers” you mimicked his voice as best as you could. Laughing at yourself in between sentences. You started to get in character more and didn’t notice the time passing. Soon Azul entered the room to see you standing in front of his bed facing away from him, a hand on your hip and the other holding a doodled contact you made.

“Hey you…yeah I’m talking to you octo-plush, make a deal with me…“ you said holding the doodled contract up to the octopus plushy Azul bought you… he laughs quietly before clearing his throat “I’ll make a deal with you instead.” He says suddenly, you turned to face him in panic, so much so that the fedora that was too big for your head slanted, covering your face, you quickly took off the hat and looked at your boyfriend who had the biggest grin on his face.

Unbeknownst to you, your face had already tinted red, he laughs at the sight. He walks up to you and cups your face in his hands peppering you with kisses, “You look cute in my clothes sea angel, do you wanna keep them?” He asks with the softest tone. You nodded with smile, “Okay, I’ll let you, but only because you make a convincing ‘Azul’ you might just fool the twins if you wanted to” he teased. Earning an eye roll from you,

He kisses your cheek once more and lets your face go “As much as I love to see you in those, I know they aren’t comfy, so why dont we both get changed and start the movie?” he took the scarf off you and hung it up, “Yeah okay, I was just going to do that before you came in anyways” you said while walking to the bathroom to change

“Are you sure? You seemed busy trying to persuade octo-plush to sign the contract” he teases again while taking his tie off, “Shut uuuppp” you whined in the bathroom, and he laughed, once you both got changed you cuddled up in his bed and watched the movie, and no the teasing did not stop.

Vil Schoenheit

You accompanied him in one of his photo shoots today, he wanted to see you there as he was posing for the camera, thinking you’d be mesmerized by his beauty. It turned to be the other way around, Vil is always professional, not distracted by eyes or mumbles and whispers from around him.

You were a different case though, since you were his ‘beloved potato’… “Okay I think we should take five everyone!” The photographer announced, Vil wasn’t at his best today, mainly because you flash him the prettiest smiles when he glances over to you during his photoshoot. Part of him also wants to blame that he’s tired but we all know that’s an excuse to go home early so he can spend time with you.

You meet him half way, jogging over to him with a water bottle, a mirror and and his make up bag in hand. He mouths a small thanks and drinks as you hold up the mirror for him. You stared at him with pure awe in your face “so pretty…” you unknowingly mumble out loud. Vil looks up from the mirror to meet your eyes, the look on your face was enough to make him erupt in a fit of laughter.

You tilt your head to the side, confused at his reaction, suddenly you were pulled closer to your lover and showered with soft feather like kisses leaving lipstick stains on all over your face. “Dearest, I love you, I do but sometimes you make me wonder if your really an enchantress who’s got a love spell on me” he jested, framing your face with his hands. “Hey even if I did you don’t mind right?” You joked back, smiling up at him.

He rolled his eyes and huffed, “Well, if you’re little spell kept me from focusing on my job then yes I do mind…” you felt him repeatedly pinch your cheeks softly, “What do you mean? I’m not doing anything…” you defended, “You’re being a menace by being so adorable, and you dont even know it!” he declared

You pretended to be offend with a huge dramatic gasp “Vil Schoenheit are you saying I’m a distraction??” You squinted your eyes pretending to be mad “Indeed potato, a very eye pleasing, heart wrenching distraction.” He laughs pulling out his phone to snap a picture of your kiss mark covered face.

“So, I need you to stay in my dressing room for the time being” he says as he posts the picture he took just now on his magicam’s story, “What?? But I came here to watch you work!” You whined, “Yes I know, But I’m never going to finish if I keep looking at you instead of the camera darling…” you opened your mouth to further protest but Vil cuts you off with a quick peck on your lips, leaving you defeated.

“It’s only until I finish potato, and hey you can even play around with the clothes and make up, play dress up while I work” he cooed, sighing you agreed with a nod, “Okay…I’ll wait for you in there…” he smiled and kissed your forehead again, you wanted to kiss him too but in fear of ruining his make up last minute, you just kissed his hand and mouthed a little goodluck before he walked back infront of the camera.

You entered his dressing room, deep down you knew it would be huge and grand, but NOT THIS HUGE AND GRAND, the rotating shoe wrack was something you thought you could only see in movies, not just that, bags, jewelry, fancy tops, clothes, even dresses?? Your boyfriend’s closet could put every mall out of business…”he’s right…I can play dress up here…” and so you did. (Right after you took off the kiss marks ofc)

Hours passed like seconds as you indulged in the variety of options you had in there, a particular piece did caught your eye though, you remembered Vil wearing it on one of his many many events, he looked so beautiful in it, it made you wonder if you could look as pretty in it as he was.

You put it on very carefully not wanting to damage it in anyway, it was a little big on you, but it didn’t look bad, you stared at your reflection in the mirror, the outfit looked stunning, it felt so nice but you laughed thinking you didn’t suit it. “It’s pretty, but I think Vil wore it a lot better, I don’t do this outfit any justice at all” you said aloud, talking to yourself while you look down at the clothing.

“Now that’s just preposterous…you look amazing in it, it should be honored to be worn by you.” Vil’s voice suddenly came from behind you, you shot up and met his gaze in the mirror as he walked behind you. “Vil! Y-You’re done? Wow time went by that quick! I didn’t hear you come in…” you stammered, face heating up from embarrassment as he hummed in response and hugged you from behind.

“I was just about to..take it off…” you fiddled with your hands, “Why?” He asked, voice vibrating through you due to how close he is, “Well…it’s your clothes…aren’t you mad?” You asked him, “Why would I be mad? I’m the one who told you to play dress up…” he chuckled “Plus I had the privilege to see you look so lovely wearing my clothes….” He added turning you to face him.

“Oh please…” you laughed at his compliments, “No wait, I am mad about one thing…” the color drained from you as you looked up at him in fear, “the audacity…” he started, “You wiped off my kiss marks? How dare you!” He jokingly exclaimed, you looked at him deadpanned. “Well I couldn’t look pretty with kiss marks all over my face!” You said

“Hm…funny, My magicam’s story reactions said otherwise” he showed you, the picture he took earlier posted on his magicam’s story, “You posted it?!” You face once again grew tinted looking at all the views and reactions on his post. “I had to share the object of my affection to the world so they can adore you as much” he proclaimed. You turned your back to him, making a bee line to the small changing room with an upset face.

Once you came out, you were once again smothered in affection, “Will you take my love as an apology gift?” He asked, “Treat me for dinner and I just might take you up on that offer…” you negotiated, “fine, I get to pick the restaurant though…” he says “Mmkay, lets go I’m starving..” you held his hand as you both walk out of the dressing room.

Don’t worry, after that, Vil will surely take you back there to play dress up, this time with him present.

Malleus Draconia

“I wonder if he’s feeling better?” You asked yourself as you were waiting for Lilia outside the dormitory of diasomnia, your fae prince has recently caught a cold, normally Lilia would’ve been able to take care of Malleus himself like he always does, however since a certain someone (you) came along…Malleus always looks for you to come take care of him.

“Oh thank the 7 from above you came…” Lilia said his dorm uniform ragged and his hair a mess, “oh god what happened?? Are you okay???” You frantically asked, walking inside the dormitory, there you were met with large thorns engulfing the furniture, crawling up on the walls and some were even fighting the students.

“What the hell is going on???” You panicked, “It’s simple really, your boyfriend is getting crankier by the minute and if he doesn’t see you he’ll tear this dormitory apart brick by brick” Lilia started pushing you up the staircase to go to Malleus’s room in a hurry, Infront of Malleus’s door stood Silver and Sebek, you cant tell if they’re relieved to see you or scared for your well being…

“Welp! in you go, stay safe!” Lilia shoves you inside and locks the door behind you. Everything went by so fast you barely had processed it, suddenly a low grumbling noise interrupted your train of thought. “Oh shit…” you whispered, whilst gripping on to the basket filled with stuff you bought for sick tsunotaro.

You gulped before taking another step, when you did though, he seemed to sense it sending you another low growl, his back was turned so he couldn’t see who you were. Slowly you crept up closer behind him, you reached out to rub his back for him to know it’s you “Hey Mal—“ before you could even begin to, thorns flew out of nowhere grabbing your arm.

Good thing you were quick enough to dodge it, only sacrificing the cloth of your sleeve and a few scratches from the thorns. “Ah…” you winced and hissed at the little wounds in your arm. Malleus turned to you angrily, as he didn’t know it was his lover…the moment he found out though. His expression changed into an apologetic one.

The truth of it all was that he’d been waiting for you the whole day, but since you had classes and other stuff he had to bare being sick without you beside him. He quick but gently embraced you, pulling you into his arms burying himself in your hair and his tail coiling around your leg wanting to have more of your warmth. There you felt how cold he was… before you could ask him if he was okay, once again you were interrupted.

“I’m sorry my love, I didn’t know it was you…usually I’d be able to feel you when you’re near but I’m afraid this cold is getting the best of me… I’m really sorry” he apologizes, voice coarse and tired. You managed you wriggle out his arms a little, and you grabbed the basket you accidentally dropped on the floor, you took out the soup you made that was in a small container, thankful it didn’t spill.

You gently pulled away from the hug and cupped his face in your warm hands, “It’s okay…you don’t have to apologize, I understand, I get cranky on my sick days too…” you smiled up at him taking your hand off his face to open the container. “Here, I made it for you, it’ll help you get warmer so you’ll feel better…” you held a spoon up to his mouth and he obediently eats the food you’ve prepared for him.

You stopped after he finished half of it as you didn’t want him to throw up later, you were packing it away when he saw your torn up clothing, He stood up carefully and rummaged through his drawers for a nightshirt he could lend you, the least thing he wants for you right now is to get cold aswell. “Malleus what are you looking for? Get back in bed, I’ll look for it” you stood beside him telling him to rest.

Just then he pulled out one of his nightshirts and gave it to you, “Wear it, you’ll get cold” he said and coughed right after. Your heart softened “Hey…I’m supposed to be the one caring for you…dont do my job” you jokingly scolded as you helped him back to bed. He looked up at you as you put a blanket over him as if begging you to change. Part of him really was concerned that you’d get cold but a part of him just wants to see you in his clothes, to have his scent engulfed in yours. You sighed “Okay…I’ll go change and I’ll be right back” you gave in, kissing his forehead

His nightshirt was way bigger than your size, given that this man is literally 202cm. You went out expecting Malleus to be asleep but instead he was sitting up and looking right your direction, his face shocked, lovestruck, and at the same time tired…. “Malleus…I told you to get some rest” you hands fell your hips as you walked towards him. He pulled you in with his tail, once again wrapping his arms around you, his face buried in your hair and his tail coiling around your leg.

“I cant rest without you beside me…” he mumbled quietly, purring softly, taking in your warmth, you looked up at him smiling, you felt as if you were melting in his arms, you leveled your face with his, inching closer, he closed his eyes expecting a kiss on his lips, but was disappointed when you only kissed his nose…you laughed at his unsatisfied expression.

“My prince, I can’t kiss you there even if I wanted to, I have to take care of you, not get us both sick” you said, touching your forehead with his. He understands but he just really craves for your affection right now, grumbling once again, you were forced to lay him on your chest and shower him with kisses, (except for his lips). Now being satisfied he resumes his purring and cuddled closer to you.

“Wear my clothes more often…” he says, “hm? Why?” You asked, caressing his horns, “You’ll have my scent mixed with yours…that way they’ll know your my beloved…” he says before drifting on to sleep as you felt you get warmer, not even knowing that the reason why, is because of what he said. You didn’t disagree though, you loved wearing his clothes aswell, it makes you feel safe. Slowly your eyelids also grew heavier and the both of you slept in each other’s comfort.

———————————————————

A/N: Hi there, yes I’m back, I’m here, Ready to write again 🥹🤚🏻 please dont tear my soul in half I swear I’m back for real this time. ANYWAYS YKNOW THE DRILL DIDNT PROOF READ THIS ERRORS ARE BOUND TO SAY HI 💀

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x mc #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x yuu #twisted wonderland reaction #twst x mc #twst x yuu #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader

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capslocked · 6 months

Text

KINKVEMBER DAY: 6

[prompt: blowjob]

male reader x hyeju

12k words

“I mean, don’t you think,” Hyeju says, wagging a finger at you, “that when you suffer through a bad date, the world ought to owe you something?”

"Like what?" you ask.

"Better taste in women - maybe more orgasms; I dunno, a blowjob?" She shrugs. "The general idea is just that someone gets to cum."

You nearly choke on the air in front of you. "Jesus, Hyeju, warn a guy."

“What? I’m trying to commiserate with you,” Hyeju laughs. “Wouldn’t that be funny? Being able to kiss someone who actually, you know, might love you back, and at the same time. Imagine not hooking-up just to forget a shitty day. Sounds wild, right?"

"Utterly deranged."

"So wild."

The first time you hook up with your roommate, it’s because of genetics - though not in the weird, uncontrollable way your body gets rigid and sensitive to any pretty girl who wears nothing but a towel moving between her bedroom and the bathroom, or how her eyes might flick fast from your chest up to yours - or given that the absolute shape of her is a blessing from one god or another (benevolent, clearly). That's not why Hyeju and you find yourselves only a few months later grinding on each other after the clock ticked past midnight, making out on New Year's Eve.

No, it has to do with the fact that Hyeju's nearly failing the nine AM section of molecular genetics because she's spent every lecture doodling stars and planets and planets shaped like asscheeks and planet-ass constellations while everyone else writes notes or doom scrolls twitter or whatever and she is somehow simultaneously the only student who never slept with her face on the lab desk or missed an assigned reading and the only one who absolutely needs a tutor.

It's just cosmic odds that you'd be that one: her roommate, who shouldn't be talking so loudly in the library about sex (in a sort of non-sexy, Mendelian kind of way) or be thinking the kind of things you've started thinking when Hyeju wears one of her more sleepshirt-esque long sleeves, her voice getting lower as you rattle off, "fruit flies and thale cress, definitely, it's just an error of fate or chromosome splitting..." before trailing off into a question.

"This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me," she finally tells you. You listen to her sigh into the binding of her textbook, facedown. "I'm really going to bomb this exam."

You tap her hand twice with your highlighter across the desk. "Then you're pretty damn lucky, if you think about it."

She turns to you, smiles a bit. "Okay, point. The worst thing will be having to retake this stupid fucking class."

"Why didn't you ask for help or go to office hours if you knew you were... failing?"

"Maybe because doing anything more than the bare minimum to get through a class I don't care about is my definition of, failing," she mumbles. "Why didn't anyone tell me a single lab is worth half my grade? Or that the TA is this fucking unreliable? How is this the one thing, really, beyond the basics, that can't be taught by wikipedia, a wikihow article and a youtube video?"

You scoot your seat closer to her. "You really need to relax."

"Fucking tell me about it."

You turn it over in your mind a few times, capping the top of your highlighter.

"Want me to get you off?"

And it’s not like you really mean it, when you say it, which is the strangest thing: you wouldn't actually suggest it, normally, wouldn't mention it in passing and then leave yourself open to the follow up and cross examination; yet there it is, after three, four hours of cramming notes on heterochronicity and the sloshing of gametes - you actually did propose it.

Hyeju jerks up, surprised.

"Are you serious?" She looks around, nearly snorting. "In the library?"

The face you’re giving her makes her scoff.

“You’re absolutely nuts.”

You have character flaws; the inability to admit wrongdoing chief among them. Hell, maybe it's from your mother - or maybe all your brains are just scrambled by the fact that Hyeju's sitting there with her pen against her pretty lips, hair glossier than usual as she scans your face and makes your entire body feel like a reactor core in meltdown.

Maybe you can blame what comes next on that.

"I'm always serious. I'm asking a serious question," you whisper, closing the textbook and resting your elbows on top. You look around quickly, like you're sneaking something in instead of this perfectly reasonable exchange, the perfectly platonic - except maybe not so much - way for friends to help each other.

"And I'm wondering what you're asking." Her cheeks are definitely pinker, you think, or the way it fills out her face, from the bottom up, is just that easy to imagine.

“I’m saying you haven’t gotten laid in months.” Here, you realize, these blocks of mental logic that definitely weren’t there when you blurted it out start to coalesce into something solid as you go on.

And you hadn't been wrong when you thought no one had given Hyeju a helping hand in a long, long time: you've heard through the walls or the floorboards at odd hours of the morning that she spends far too long fingering herself to a mind-numbing, tear-worthy frustration that leaves her knuckle-deep but never, ever sated or satisfied.

"No one's around, you'll feel better. You said it yourself."

Not a work of your imagination here - her ears are fucking burning.

"Wait a minute." She pushes her chair back, away from you and your gleaming offer. It clatters on its back legs, and a librarian waves her finger in warning. You wave back, sheepishly, until she stops and Hyeju stands and moves away from the table to talk, hands crossed over her front.

She turns and asks in a hushed-down-voice, "how did you know - did you hear something last night?"

"You couldn't keep it down even if you wanted to, honestly."

Hyeju turns further and throws a glare at the library doors, because obviously her noisiness and their collective noisemanship, or whatever the hell the word is, is clearly the root of the whole goddamn problem.

"Look - if not, no big deal - but I'm just saying you'll probably get over it and at least think less about sex. Or at least the wrong kind of sex."

You expect her to turn, sigh, and ask if you've lost your mind. Expect her to gather her jacket from the back of her chair, take her books and stomp out the room. Or even burst out laughing at the insanity, before slapping your arm lightly, in playful retaliation - anything other than the serious look she gives you in return, tilting her head, pressing her lips.

She turns up at the ceiling for a moment, contemplating something. And it's cute. It's so very, very cute, how her mouth pouts as she considers the possibility, right up until she says, "okay, fine."

The moderate twist of surprise taking hold in your brow must be visible.

"Oh, don't tell me that was all talk. Get me thinking about the right kind of sex or whatever."

You laugh, which has the librarian staring at both of you - until the librarian stops staring and probably sees Hyeju sliding back into her chair, the full, pent-up weight of her concentration pointed your way, knees inching apart - you, and Hyeju waiting, your knee bumping into her inner thigh, leaning closer as the textbook hits the floor.

"Don't laugh."

"Not laughing, seriously. Not laughing," you stammer. “I just think you’re just full of surprises.”

She spreads her knees further and sits taller, looking right at you.

"So then, surprise me," and then presses her cheek to the crook of your elbow.

You slide your chair right into the space next to hers, nuzzling up into the space under her ear. “Keep studying, Hyeju, you’ve got shit to do.” And then you slide your hand beneath the waist of her sweats, knead the swell of her thigh until you find the seam where her leg meets her body, press your palm down on the place just next to her center, your thumb in the middle. All this perfect pressure.

"Fuck," Hyeju says under a shudder. She's breathing heavier when your hot, open-mouthed kisses start landing at her neck, and she probably tries to read her textbook for about forty-five seconds longer. But there's the clench of her jaw right as your middle finger begins tracing circles beneath the fabric of her panties, and her gaze is blurring until she can't tell the difference between an allele or your fucking name.

"Shh-shh," you quiet her, finger tapping harder, playing with the slick wetness beneath all those layers of thick cotton and pressing two fingers there until her knees part like they’re not interested in resisting at all. Your lips press a kiss to the shell of her ear and she tenses all at once, hand shooting up to cover her mouth.

She simply leans back, closes her eyes, and lets you take care of her.

“Okay, you’re right,” she says, shaky and uneven, “that really did take some of the edge off. Did we ever review - poly- uh, pol-polymers here?"

The sweatshirt sleeve falling off your shoulder is a hindrance to any actual reading; her shifting against the chair isn't helping either, but you manage to push down the thoughts of stripping her down completely and giving her your tongue as yet another distraction.

"What did the syllabus say? I don't know if we need to read too far on 'polymers'," you say, having going through an entire afternoon without considering this once, but as you curl your fingers and take an honest crack at cramming the remaining chapters into her head, the knowledge that no one else is getting her this wet - except for whoever she's got in her mind's eye at three AM - is enough to get you feeling a little dizzy.

It’s probably supposed to be weird, given that you’ve never gotten any of your other friends off spontaneously in the library, or there's the fact that you can't really avoid each other afterwards, how she shows up in a silk negligee when you're pouring coffee before sunrise to prep for another day and you have the opportunity to notice - yes, she has amazing taste in underwear, yes, you might not have really appreciated her chest and figure enough before - yes, fuck it. She catches you noticing that first time, after coming downstairs with nothing but one of her cropped t-shirts and her board shorts, and she smirks when she realizes you're still thinking about it that afternoon, when her foot grazes yours while you're both washing dishes, and she dries the plate in her hand with a slow swipe.

And it is weird, actually, to describe what’s going on between you in words.

A few words, anyway, like a one-word label to describe what it was: friends or roommates-with-benefits, or - fuck buddies - god, it's even worse. Fuck buddies? Fuck friends? Something equally terrible and stupid that still makes sense, like something out of a shitty rom-com: it doesn't capture any of the rest of the myriad ways in which things can feel less or less friendly between two people.

So, friends was never, ever going to cut it. Roommates - although technically correct - is just this side of too clinical. And let's be clear: strangers don't wake up every morning together, walk to the same class, sit close together in the middle seats, secretly flick a strangers' skirt up in an empty lecture hall and get on their knees and work your mouth onto her pussy and watch the legs of the desks shake when her feet arch into the floor.

"The notes you've got are better than mine," is how Hyeju tries to put things, the next day and every time after that, standing in the doorframe, or at the foot of your bed and looking every bit the disheveled and hopeless mess you imagine she might spread out over the sheets of her own.

It gets complicated, which isn't really a surprise.

"You think your roommate is going to be home tonight?" is the question that comes up multiple times - from a revolving door of pretty names and faces. Hyeju has at least one opinion, if not more, on each of them.

"Tell Jinsoul I say hi," she says once, watching you get ready for a date, and you nearly bang your knee on the edge of the bathroom vanity.

It's one of the more harmless comments she's offered.

Another, backhanded: "if you’re just looking for a blowjob everyday between lunch and our physics lab, let Hyunjin or Heejin or whatever-her-name-is know she's easily my favorite," Hyeju says on your way out one morning, still under her covers.

Or,

Hyeju's texted a simple "uh, Chuu? really??" when you mention, once, how much fun you've been having - and what kind, as you make a round of self-conscious and rambling phone calls the next day that land you with only one prospect for the night - but your roommate's also no longer being your roommate by the end of it, bouncing against your thighs in the bathtub and moaning something about please more and fuck or fucking make me cum; the details escape you a bit.

That's what friends are for, probably.

Still, in the same, bare-bones explanation, friends also aren't for falling asleep on you - or letting you hold her - or fucking you awake in the middle of the night. Friends aren't for pushing down your jeans when the early-morning dew settles on the back patio, or jerking you off in the seat beside yours with a sweatshirt over your lap when a group project is due later and you all should probably work on that and instead get yourselves off and leave the mess of what you're doing half-finished. Friends aren't, probably, for offering to watch you rub your palm up and down your cock the night before next semester's exams when you can barely sit in a single chair and you can't think about molecular biology or neurochemical transcriptions when your whole body aches to do the transcribing. (If you can catch that drift.)

The lists of who are and are not good enough for you goes on and on - the latter longer than the former.

So, there's Choerry, who according to Hyeju is 'straight up, a total slut'. Yeojin, who gets mistaken for your little sister enough times that Hyeju refuses to - in good faith - let you keep sleeping with her. Both Heejin and Gowon are apparently too pretty for you. "Kim-lip?" she asks, in the middle of peeling garlic, "is that one name or two?" And laughs into a bottle of beer, loud, while you're telling her to quit being nosey and watch her fingers with the damn knife.

"You have a problem."

"Why, because I asked a few simple questions? I think anyone would be a little curious with the -" she pauses to wave her fingers - "I'd be remiss to not be interested in the very drama that unfolds literally across the hall."

She waggles her eyebrows.

You look up at the ceiling. God save you, you think. "Hyeju."

("Seriously," Hyeju chimes in one evening, arms around you, and a mouthful of the dinner you'd cooked.

"You need better taste in girls. Don't waste time on anyone too dumb, or who drinks the milk straight from the carton, or doesn't wash her socks with the same load of laundry. Oh, and - no one who chews loudly. No one who can't tell you're going to cum. The worst is someone who doesn't know what you like, trust me on that. And remember the last rule: don't do anything with someone who eats at a really slow pace, it's incredibly depressing."

You rest your chin on her shoulder from the spot behind her. "Duly noted, oh Master of all Knowledge."

She sighs into your arm, but in the next moment, her voice gets a lot softer, her hips fidgeting slightly against you. "I just mean you're the kind of person people would want to sleep with again," she says, before turning to say your name and kiss you again and again as your bodies curl inward.

"I wonder what that means, Hyeju," you say.

"Fuck," Hyeju groans as you slide further into her, pushing her back into the sofa - hands on her shoulders, legs bent on her either side, "don't tease me like this.")

The first snowfall of the year is mild, a tiny dusting, nothing that sticks on the pavement in the alley or on the sidewalks - or the lintels - or in Hyeju's hair, but by evening, when the snow picks up and everything goes quiet, Hyeju has changed into flannels and wool socks in anticipation, curled up like a cat at one edge of the window ledge as the world begins to go white. It's enough that you even pull on a thicker sweatshirt, open up a book, and join her.

She turns toward you, quiet.

You've reached a point in the semester where this, the silence, doesn't unsettle you anymore. It's the space you fill up with time in-between, where you can see the contours of her body against the orange lamplight of the space heater, or watch her kick off the top half of the duvet at night as you fight over space in her bed and wonder about the bare skin peeking out from her shorts.

"Feeling bored?" She slides her foot a little closer to yours, almost imperceptibly. "Am I keeping you entertained enough?"

Her lips pull up at the corner. You chuckle.

"Oh, no."

She scoffs and puts her hands on her knees, pushes herself closer to the window sill and bumps her elbow into your shoulder. The bare skin of her neck and shoulders and face is getting a little redder as she cranes it forward. "Okay, if not, do you need someone to entertain you, maybe."

Your mouth twists, fighting a smile.

Hyeju is so close to you, you could kiss her really, really easily and not care how she'd feel about that. It's not a habit, not as often as it used to be, but every once and a while - she starts this game. Every once in a while, Hyeju just starts smiling like that, and leans into you like she's daring you to play along, hard round of chicken until it's clear what the two of you are doing with each other; the minutes pass by, one, then two, and then - maybe she pushes first, her leg on yours, or a kiss to your jaw or a palm on your back as she walks behind you - and then you'd turn and kiss her full on the mouth and pull at her clothes like nothing's holding you back.

She cocks a smile, and says, "why don't you go and call what's her name."

"Because."

You glance out at the cold, gray light outside. If you had a better understanding of any of the workings inside you, you could reach forward and tell her everything that's stopped you.

You're supposed to meet the girl-of-the-month at a New Year's party. Hyeju looks disgusted within the first ten seconds of the whole story.

"Heejin dumped you once, like, two months ago? For no reason."

"It wasn't a break-up. We talked about what we did wrong and we're doing better," you say, lifting one finger.

She glares, then, tilts her lips into this unamused purse that you can't take seriously at all when she starts walking back and forth across your living room, hands moving emphatically to the sides as she speaks, like she's in the process of unveiling a brilliant argument and is using both palms to guide your eyes toward the unquestionable logic. "God, you're the worst. You're just her easy fuck and you'll still answer her late night calls, really."

She leaves the rest unsaid - that she's just not that into you.

"I don't tell you which boys or girls you can call up," you try, putting on a boot. "If you'd like, I can. Name off the list, and make sure that the right name leaves my mouth this time."

Hyeju doesn't blush when you glance up, which is the surprising thing. No - her cheeks have grown a little more sullen, and she stares down at her socks in contemplation. You're in the middle of fastening up the lace and getting to your feet, waiting, wondering if Hyeju's going to continue this conversation, when Hyeju takes one small step forward.

And her hand goes out to touch your chin, thumb at your lip, fingers holding it in place - like you'll turn if she lets it go - the sharp shock of the sensation like a short circuit, before her knee comes between yours, and your body tingles, at the root and stem. "Hey," she says, eyes meeting yours. The edge of her nail flicking gently as she drags the curve of her thumb downward.

"Hyeju, please - I need to get going."

When you start walking toward your car, she calls out from the window. Something about how you better have the time of your life, fun for the two of you - it’s only fair.

(You feel, somewhere, a certain strange loss.)

"What, are you going to stay up and wait until I come back? Or am I interrupting your session for the night."

You can barely make it out, the smallest look passing over her face. "Maybe," she says, and then: "god, it's fucking cold."

New year's parties have this sort of quality of being simultaneously the most thrilling, exciting prospect on earth and the absolute worst fucking event in the history of the planet - depending on the venue, how egregious the racket is for a gin and tonic, the guests - oh, and the company.

Jinsoul and Choerry are both in attendance; in separate corners and in equal states of undress and intoxication, which seems fine by every present party, who are for the most part busy ogling one or the other in the full spirit of the New Year - as you would too, if the stars are aligned and Heejin hasn't already gone upstairs with half the guestlist, her arm wound with someone else's, as per her recent habit; if you haven't been tossed aside for any of the usual, less forgettable prospects and for something bigger, better and certainly much more enjoyable.

Which, if there were any way to track these things down with math, you'd already be reaching for your pen and notebook, as Hyeju would describe this sensation in a phrase she picked up from some podcast. Inevitable means necessary, or something.

"Good party," says Heejin, throwing back another drink.

"Yep. You said that," and you finish yours in one long draw, hissing through your teeth.

Heejin is a goddamn delight, of course, in all the simplest of ways. When she looks up at you - mouth pink, hair framing her face - she is so clearly and completely aware of what she is, and exactly what the world has in store for her, what it has set aside.

"Do you want to know what happened at the other New Year’s party we went to last year?"

"I - yeah. Hit me. Tell me all about (another date you were on) Heejin, that’s exactly what I’d love, let’s hear it."

She throws her head back and laughs, before starting into an overlong recount of her latest, greatest conquest, you on the outside. This is the thing - this is how a pretty face, with just a hint of a flirt, will make you feel for a beautiful, attractive, vivacious - absolutely shameless, raving sex-crazed lunatic of sorts who, apparently, loves to run around town and make a bunch of your closest friends fall in love and heartbroke-er, with every passing notion of her beauty, her charm - just the tilt of her chin, and some poor fucker is lost, absolutely lost.

Even she knows it's a bad habit of hers.

But who doesn't have a weakness? You've got plenty of your own - plenty, Heejin can admit - everyone does, in a way, and so Heejin, the other sloppy drunks milling about the party, and Choerry and Jinsoul all agree - someone like her just happens to have the best kind of weakness - so, so many of them, in fact:

"Can you believe how easily a few words get Jinsoul riled up? Or how it only takes a couple drinks for Choerry to pull up the hem of her skirt, not knowing the effect that'll have?"

And as for the last, and arguably worst kind -

"Hyeju, huh? What a great start to the New Year," is her final word. Heejin reaches across and downs your drink. Her expression turns just shy of grave, a pensive look. "Not your smartest idea, the living-together situation. Who in their right mind would put themselves in such a mess?"

"Thanks for the great advice." You wave her off, irritated.

There's another laugh before Heejin leans her face onto the table.

"Though maybe she's onto something, now that I think of it. Who needs anyone for the New Year?" and it's almost convincing the way her mouth, lined up with the rim of the glass, smirks when she drinks. "Mm. All a matter of taste."

The snow is halfway up your calves when you realize you need to find a cab at 11:30 PM on New Year's Eve. (Which, categorically, is the worst time to need to find a cab on New Year’s Eve.)

Or just:

11:36 PM and the nearest bus stop is too far away.

11:41 and the temperature feels like its dropped by fifteen degrees, like you should start wondering what hypothermia symptoms look like and what signs to look out for in yourself, your future wife and your children. You try not to think about why, but you get your phone out and immediately call Hyeju, so you're not sure what you think you're denying.

"No party?" she asks. Her voice is distant and sleep-ridden, but Hyeju's quick to pick up, like always.

"It sucked, I'm trying to find a way home early. Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year." There's a long pause, filled in by the squeak of snow beneath your boots. "Get a kiss?"

"Uh, not yet. In the market, I guess."

Hyeju's low hum isn't reassuring, either. "Well, you're kind of missing your window. Bad time to start looking."

"Says you, and here you are - still up for someone to spend the night with. Look at you," you respond, all this snark in your voice that she clearly hears. There's a long sigh.

"Actually," and Hyeju, much to the confusion of you and possibly the whole world, doesn't respond, and for a few seconds, the line goes completely silent, leaving you hanging.

She breathes once and comes out of her sleep with a yawn.

"I actually," she begins. There's a lot less preamble this time - this tone - and when she speaks again it comes through not nearly as sleepy, "was sorta wondering. Are you on your way home?"

"If I don't freeze to death, yeah."

"Yeah - no, yeah," and that's it. That's the sum total of what makes any difference between where you were a moment ago, and where you are right now, head spinning, fingers buzzing. Hyeju waits and there's the wind on the line, snow settling on your hat and in the corners of your face.

"I - sorry. I probably woke you up. Are you expecting someone else," you say, very small. Your foot drags behind the other. The cars whizz by you faster, passing.

"Hm. You're the only one, I guess," and after that - just static and the muffled sounds of her footsteps on creaky floorboards - or the tick of her ceiling fan? You can't make heads or tails of the rest of the background noise. All those words she said.

You bite your tongue to stop whatever curse words start pouring out from the jumble and cross streets, or the pedestrian underpass; snow gets stuck in your lashes and burns, but your chest is like a molten furnace. You consider telling her right there on the line, everything you're feeling - so hot, it feels like fire, Hyeju, I'm not used to getting heated and desperate and impatient - that even if you're not here now - just imagining your face - the sound of your breathing, it feels like I'm on the cusp.

"Yeah. Sure - good - okay, Hyeju."

"I guess, see you soon?"

"In a bit."

(It takes 33 minutes, trudging through cold and wet. It's all very dramatic, you think, and there's no one there to even watch you suffer for it, or - though you try not to think about that particular line - really, no one at all.)

You hear the way your key grinds in the lock - it's been like this, jammed since summer, when you pushed the front door in late at night a little too hard and something came undone and made a sound like a small stone tumbling down the world's deepest well. The hinge squeaks, and there's ice on the stoop, on the doormat, on every nook and corner you can see, all the way up your neck.

And your face, too. You shake off your hat, undo the buttons on your jacket, and pull off your boots before hanging them and all the layers to dry.

You can make out the outline of her profile at the edge of the door frame, right in the kitchen - barefoot, hip pressed against the island, pajamas - the dim lights illuminating the shadow of her head, hair over her face -

- but you don't pause. The next layer. There's nothing left to say. You're too cold for excuses, too smart to use the same ones you'd been taught, like: this is a normal, acceptable circumstance; everything, anything, will be perfectly normal if the two of us act as though that's the case; pretend we're both acting within the norms of reason, within our senses and logical thinking and I won't make myself go out in the cold a second more - won't stand for more than five minutes with your eyes looking like they're waiting.

So you move instead toward the kitchen, where the heating is better and she's already pouring coffee. There's a heat radiating out of the oven, and it smells sweet in there, like cinnamon and warm butter, and you wish you weren't still shaking, blood barely thawed, but there it is - her face, watching you - eyes gleaming as you wrap your hands around a mug, steam rising up - a shiver running up your arms; her knees skirting yours when she takes one step back and there's the cabinet door shut, then open again, and then a palm on your back.

Hyeju presses a cup of the fresh coffee, now warm enough to drink, to your chest, and says, softly. "What the fuck happened out there?"

She starts reaching out to wipe the frost and slush from your face. You let her hand hold you still, eyes wide.

"Oh you know," and her palm stays, even though it's obviously - suddenly - gotten warmer, and wetter too, and the longer she stands there and lets her fingers warm the pale bones of your cheeks, her wrist, the base of your forehead and ears, the more expectant the look on her face grows. "The usual."

Her eyes go as narrow as they ever can. For just a moment. "You're gonna die a slow, pathetic death someday, just for the record."

"Don't forget how this starts," you try, and feel your neck go warm, throat and breath tight. And not even when her shoulders shift, her mouth going smug - just looking at you.

“I mean, don’t you think,” Hyeju says, wagging a finger at you, “that when you suffer through a bad date, the world ought to owe you something?”

"Like what?" you ask.

"Better taste in women - maybe more orgasms; I dunno, a blowjob?" She shrugs. "The general idea is just that someone gets to cum."

You nearly choke on the air in front of you. "Jesus, Hyeju, warn a guy."

“What? I’m trying to commiserate with you,” Hyeju laughs. “Wouldn’t that be funny? Being able to kiss someone you actually, you know, might love you back, and at the same time. Imagine not hooking-up just to forget a shitty day. Sounds wild, right?"

"Utterly deranged."

"So wild."

When Hyeju sighs and gives a long, nonchalant hum, leaning her body closer, pressing up until her waist hits the cabinet top and you're pressed together chest-to-chest, she looks at you and her hips settle, the heel of her foot reaching around your calf.

There's that tingle. Again and again. You're not even trying to not think about what it might mean.

But then, you start, silently and unconsciously, trying to answer the question: why don't you, maybe. Why don't you, actually - Hyeju kisses you, pulls on the loop of your jeans and lets your lips brush the corners of hers and pulls away, suddenly, mumbling and head-turning. And just as abruptly, your nose buries in the space between her neck and her shoulder, where it's all warm. And when she puts her palms on your hips and squeezes and twists her knuckles into the fabric there, it seems she wants your hands up her shirt and under the small of her back.

And her hands - they're fidgety tonight, fingers curled up to keep their nails and the chill away, moving lower - one on your ass, while the other comes forward and begins rubbing circles, a handful of times - enough so you're letting a deep, low breath escape into the space just above her collar, your knee working its way between hers.

"That," Hyeju breathes, lips at your ear, hand reaching down to trace the hard curve of your cock pressing in the spot right between you, and there's that small rush again, familiar now, like you've caught a rhythm and she wants to feel it in its fullness: "is how you can make it up to me. For making me stay up. Worrying about you, god knows why. Waiting."

You're still half-frozen in a way, slowly thawing. "Hyeju, I've been trudging through the consequences of my actions this entire night. What am I about to suffer through now?"

"It's no consequence, honestly."

You squint.

"Just an idea, but," she breathes again; your bodies getting closer, and looking up at you, she grins and reaches down to touch the very root of you, her fingers drumming. You make a sound, and at that she says, her voice coming out thick, low:

"Want me to get you off?"

She squeezes again for good measure, just to be clear. Just a slight curl of fingers that's enough to send a flash of heat and the transient thought: why, why, why is she always wearing those fucking shorts, even in the winter?

Your blood thrums through the pulse at the end of your cock. You shake.

"Alright," is the response you let out.

And at that, Hyeju takes your wrist and leads you upstairs.

"There's that look. Don't worry. We'll find a way," is all she says as your feet walk forward, up step-by-step and higher and further up to her room. "After all, isn't that what we've always done?"

"It's usually whatever will make me stop talking."

Hyeju puts her chin on your shoulder. Her eyes follow the lines and shapes in the patterns of wallpaper as you turn onto her side of the apartment, and even through the wall and behind the doorway, her arm still around you, she pulls at your chin until your faces turn and you both can share each other's heat.

"Who, you and your awful habit of talking out-loud in your head while you work through equations?" and she brings her lips to yours, close and warm.

"Hey. Fuck you," and your voice breaks into an odd, low laughter when she kisses you harder.

"Yeah, I know," she whispers as her hand dives past the band of your boxers, palm sliding easily until she's gripping you fully and letting her fingers rub. She holds you there, in her room, her arm looped through yours, another arm resting at your belly.

And she stops there. She stays like that: holding your gaze.

"Look, Hyeju," you say, unable to not, though this can hardly count for anything; this, what you're about to admit, is nothing new. You swallow. "The thing is - you shouldn't."

"Don't want me to touch you?" she says, finger to your lips.

"Well, that's different. Maybe. Is there - maybe it's not the best thing to ask you right now."

Hyeju considers for a brief moment and tuts under her breath. "Can you at least do me the decency of waiting until I'm done wringing you dry before you say shit like that."

And she moves then, toward the bed.

So:

No. Yes. Maybe. Who knows, you tell yourself. Maybe, but only because you'll do anything if it makes you feel less sick, like a creature standing over its own skeleton - an abandoned shell; a relic, something to be feared and disgusted, as you let her go between your thighs, kneel beside the bed.

"I mean - since when - have you felt," is just as far as you're allowed to go before Hyeju presses her nose into you and pulls you out of the thin, cold fabric - palm, thumb, all those slender fingers swiping over your head - and now there's just the smell of her room and the shock, the buzz that runs down your spine and settles somewhere, somewhere inside the small and desperate movement of your hips and the tension building just below.

And god, fuck, Hyeju’s lips.

These soft, wet, pouty fucking things that could suck you straight off if you were feeling any less stupid or inexperienced or sentimental - if she wasn't solely intent on teasing it out of you first; a slow drag of the tongue up the underside; the tip of it poking, tracing the rim, like she's figured you out, just where to lead you. She's ready to smoke you out - always - until you're not taking in a breath every ten seconds but starting to close your eyes to the overwhelming, needling pleasure, too sharp, the way she knows you like best.

"Now you're finally - mm - starting to sound hot," and that smirk comes back to the corner of her mouth, teasing the sensitive belly of your cock and tracing her tongue everywhere. "With the voice and -"

You're losing track, her thumb and fingers circling the whole length of you - just, one after the other - mouth a hair-breadth away, her breath hovering like a promise.

"- that face."

"Don't, fucking tease me-"

The sound of your cock going in is like nothing else.

Wet and filthy in all the right ways.

Just the suction in her throat has your eyes nearly roll back into your head - Hyeju's gaze calmly watching the terrible sort of helplessness that washes over you like this: her lips wrapped around, bobbing - her hair falling into the wet mess of her mouth and sticking there. Hyeju likes being a little sloppy, likes feeling that spark run up the length of her tongue when she slides. It's the wet and the heat that gives everything away.

"I don't have much of a choice -" her jaw and chin is smudged when she pulls back off of your cock, mouth glossy and glistening, "and honestly, wouldn't it be a better use of our time, or my talents if I actually do that thing?"

“Which is?”

She looks up for a bit and sighs, the flush blooming pink to the tip of her ears and into the rounds of her cheeks and all across her neck. "Since, as far as I can see, what you really like - is, oh I'm just spit-balling here," and she stops just to bite her tongue and look into your eyes, "it's letting the girls take care of you? Isn't that right?"

You want to tell her, no, not always, that it's not as though you enjoy giving control completely - that that would be completely and unarguably, the opposite of true -

That most of the time you love it when the person you're with is a little bossy, a little crazy for you. You know some guys really get off on a strong woman and maybe, maybe if a girl's pretty and dressed up, and - sure - a little wet, but that's hardly -

“You know I’m right,” she says, a flicker of mischief skittering across her features. “These walls are paper thin.”

You want to tell her, perhaps remind her, that she likes someone in charge just as much as you do - to be taken care of, told what to do - to have a hand curled up around her throat and the other at her tits while a guy fucks her the right way and takes the reigns when she needs. So who are you, when it comes to knowing her better? And who, really, are you fooling?

But before you can get any words in: Hyeju dips, lips parting where the head of your cock throbs, and then disappears; and the hot wet warmth, enveloping all around your shaft and back; the curve of her throat contracting.

You moan - a lot, and louder this time - into the whole feeling. The way her fingers work the distance from the base, twisting and twisting and twisting into the pout of her lips; or how the sound is like nothing - a whimpering, messy sound - almost a whine and definitely not a slurp as your cock sinks further and further, until it's all one big, heavy throb.

And it's like Hyeju can read your thoughts, the visual you have of her lips screwed tight around your shaft - cum leaking from the corners, and her eyes scrunched up tight, as she looks up to watch your face unravel - this perfect image of her taking you, all of you, swallowing each drop as your hips start rutting up into her and - and - and.

Or else she gets impatient, because then Hyeju gives one long pull off the tip of your cock - saliva mixed in the precum there, and that shiny string of fluid hanging, caught in the middle between your bodies - a disgusting and irresistible sight. Her jaw slack, lips swollen and full, and her mouth gone wide open, wanting.

"Fuck - that's good. Don't stop," you start to whimper, desperate, at the sight, the smell. Her hot breath coming quick over the red wanting wetness left behind - then touched by the cold air - fuck -

She slaps your cock to the corner of her lips as she speaks.

"Can you believe what's going on down here?"

"God, can you -"

"And to think most guys wanna jump straight in. That or fuck a load out between my tits."

"Hyeju, shit, come on -"

She kisses the soft tip, right where it’s most sensitive, rolls it along her lip. Then, back down the length of your shaft where she's generous with her mouth inch after inch - lapping, licking, laving - and Hyeju begins working her way down and downward, nestling in at the edge of the bed and between your thighs.

Your eyes blow up the first time she dips low enough to put your balls in her mouth.

“Mmhm,” she hums.

It’s killing you and she knows it; it’s killing you and she can feel the pre-cum leaking from your slit - the thumb she has moored there, keeping everything right where she wants it, running circles up the length with such little intention - she could bring you to the end just like this.

"Am I supposed to believe it?” she asks out from beneath the shadow of your cock, looking up at you with her eyes all wide and brilliant - pupils dark as sin. “That not a single one of those girls ever did you proper?"

You curse under your breath. Hyeju seems amused, at least, like she can't help but love doing that to you, which is almost worse and honestly the sexiest thing a girl can be. You groan - wanton, raw and desperate and feeling exactly what she wants you to feel when her nails drag along the dip of your hip bones.

"Did they not leave you fucked-up the right way?"

Her wrist flicks out these twists and turns, making your spine bend to her control. Like even when you're sure to be bundling her hair in your fingers and fucking the whole length of your cock down her throat, all of this is the worst kind of power-trip for her - not the other way around.

Her tongue runs through the tangle of your balls, slowly, lasciviously, as though the plan is to memorize and map every detail.

And the worst part is, how much it's making you desperate for the warmth of her mouth - where she'll run her tongue up and down and over and around and inside - before sucking you off nice and slow.

"Or maybe," she laughs; another flick to the top and then suddenly her hand goes faster and the fist pumping the rest of you tightens. "They left you so needy you're resorting to having the bestie suck you off so that you won't be desperate the next time you date. Oh my god-"

Hyeju breaks into this fit of laughter, and you're nearly cross-eyed at the feeling of your entire existence - not just your cock - so wholly held within her mercy, and her pity, and you're breathing so shallow now you'd think this is the real reason people have died and will die - this exact moment where you're choking and stuttering at the edges, so very close to cumming and going absolutely bonkers with how good Hyeju is with her hands, her tongue, her mouth - everything - how much she's wrecking you, and your jaw drops, wide open, her name dripping like molasses off your lower lip.

"Are you going to cum?" she asks, curiously. All as if she can't see you nodding, collapsing under pressure, and then and there: "should we make it official?"

Her nose tickles the seam of your balls. And your toes begin to curl and uncurl - all this anticipatory, coiling pleasure burning from her throat, shooting from the pit of your stomach; the tightening spiral, twinging and stretching every nerve - as her lips enclose around the end of your cock, softly.

And oh, just excruciatingly slowly.

You watch the irresistible shape of her mouth travel down until her throat feels so incredibly, beautifully, and unbelievably tight, and then, just like that - Hyeju starts fucking herself onto you; pushing forward and down the full, rigid length of you, hard and fast - each time hitting deeper inside her - all that sticky, messy, wet squelching.

"Unh-unh, yeah. Unh. Mm-!" you say, or moan, or some animal version of that, maybe, it’s incoherent.

But regardless:

It's messy and your hands scramble for purchase in the sheets of her bed when you feel that snap, the tightening of a trigger; when your balls roll up and it builds, and builds, and it comes faster - harder and -

"Hyeju," you pant, and it sounds so, so filthy. "I'm gonna cum, if you - gonna cum-"

Hyeju pulls you free from her lips, quite possibly at the most final of final moments, to rub the base up and down, just right, between her fingers. Your cock is resting right on her cheek when it all happens. When she squeezes her fingers around your balls just enough to hear you wheeze and make a sound no sane man should have the right to. And fuck, you're cumming all over her face - or just one side of it - which is already just -

Okay, fuck.

She makes a startled sound and her fist closes tightly around your shaft when you pump another fresh load of white up onto her eyebrow.

"I'm, ah-shit," your mouth moves faster than the blood in your veins - and now the shame - oh god, the humiliation, it's pulsing right behind you. "Hyeju," you apologize.

Only, Hyeju has no interest in any of it. She doesn't seem offended or disappointed in proportion to how you're ruining her pretty face: "no, just do it, cum wherever you fucking like."

Which isn't what you're expecting at all, because Hyeju makes no effort to close her lips, let alone avoid any of it; nor is she making a fuss about the sticky mess in her hair, her mouth, nor as another stream of cum throbs from your cock, all tangled up in the long dark eyelashes that sweep down across her cheek.

It’s fucking filthy: you're cumming all over her and she's just kneeling there, telling you, "good boy."

See, she pushes through it, languidly - all those filthy sounds, and those watery little tears gathering at the edge of her eye and all of that, mixing up together until you're rolling your head back with your orgasm, shuddering, feeling weak - drained dry -

Except,

Hyeju's pushing a finger to your chest, kneeling up tall from the side of the bed. She turns her body toward the center of the bed and wipes a bit of the cum on her knuckles into the sheets. Here you feel like you've done something terrible or at least regrettable, like that last round at the bar when you have a test the next morning; a dick move, all of the sort that requires apology.

"You gotta give me a minute, if you're thinking about hopping on."

"Hmm. Sounds like a lot to ask."

"Wait," you grab her arm. Hyeju grins and there's nothing stopping the shake of your knees now, that weakness between your thighs: "let me get you a drink."

"Or."

"Or?"

Her tongue peeks out, running along her upper lip. Her eyes drop again, hands dipping below, beneath the hem of her shorts and oh. She slips a hand past her bra. The whole outline of it. And you -

"Mm, I could show you what that actually means." She lowers her chest, her breasts, and a lot of skin to the mattress while keeping your cock firmly in her hands. "That look tells me you wanna stick around a bit. Stay up past New Year’s, you know?"

You're almost unable to parse her words, there is so much to look at: the jutting curve of her chest, cleavage pressing into the mattress as her body settles between your knees. A soft chuckle; a sigh: "you are seriously the best lay, no-one else can get hard the minute after they just fucking exploded all over me-"

"Fuck, watch it," you hiss, because there's oversensitivity - and then there's Hyeju's mouth on the line of your cock, polishing you clean.

And it’s not that she isn’t trying to prove a point. Or that she's not trying to tease - that's an inherent quality of her character: a naturally dominant position with a high appetite for your lust. That much, Hyeju gets from you, whether you've got your head down between her thighs or the other way, too, so that her neck is arched around and her ass pushed up high in the air, legs open, and if she had any idea you would spend the next twenty minutes or more just going down on her, licking into her creaming cunt while two fingers work over her aching clit, then really, Hyeju would only encourage it - maybe get on top, force you to gag - and so you don't know where it comes from - how and why you want nothing more than to drive your fingers inside her and work her until she's a wet, squelching mess, not when this was always Hyeju's role of being the aggressor; and yes, sure, even the aggressed.

Surely not because you came so hard, still somewhat shivering with the remnants of a rather abrupt, painful, sudden and all-consuming orgasm.

"We're not doing anything else," she says, lips pulled up into a smirk right at the crown of your cockhead. But before you can respond she pushes a hot open kiss, and goes lower. She presses the flat of her tongue to the seam, just below the head. Licks a line right up to the tip and finishes with a tender flick that sends you fisting the bedspread in your fingers and leaning back as your mind begins to disintegrate -

"I'm not going to ride you yet, or going to get my hips in your hands so you can fuck my pussy real hard until I cry and pass out. Nothing of that sort is gonna happen." She licks one long drag of her tongue. Then, the other way. "I want to make this very clear: this isn't some huge favor - and if you want it - want it so bad, you can stay there and I'm going to do everything for you. We will get there - together," and with her voice shaking as she brings the wet, glistening skin of your cock just inside her mouth, she looks up. "We'll get each other off, just like this," and it's the deep, dark, throated moan that makes your thighs and all the nerves in between stiffen and buck when she swallows you again.

Hyeju's hands tug, pull her whole body closer still as it slowly bends, curves - her ass raised, her stomach lying on the bed. Her mouth takes you another few inches, until the tip of her nose is barely visible, but when she pauses to lick the cum still left over - the cum that's starting to leak out again - to breathe through it, then squeeze her palm and bob her mouth down, take another inch, until the sides are stuffed and emptying out again, that's when she finally has something to say: "got anything left? I'm a little starved."

"I. Christ, yes-" you whine, which doesn't help your case at all: the image, the image of you lying flat - back with Hyeju's head tucked between your knees, her hand pulling out your cock.

Sloppy, slimy-wet.

She presses an innocent, not-at-all-innocent kiss right to your tip, puckering -

"You know what I did learn in that genetics class?" she muses, tongue flicking over her lips. Hyeju's about ready for a second helping - you're losing it. "When I first saw that DNA diagram - the double helix and all those little base pairs, and everything - it made me think of your cock. Your cock and me. Specifically our DNA. Did you know-"

She presses her palm over the head and rolls it - teases and strokes her palm - her knuckles - her fist - the whole nine. "When I hold your big fucking cock, mm, and just get it right - up in here, rubbing all along my walls - so deep, it gets me in my fucking ribs, makes me choke like I never been choked before, ah-mm," and it's this thought sliding toward the front of your mind, this perfect picture: Hyeju, getting fucked hard and open and stuffed full and stuffed good and stupid; you’ve got more than a few inches on her, can make her feel small and delicate; you know how to do her right.

But here you have Hyeju stroking the shaft - holding her hand tightly up near the head, rolling and twisting and sliding down and pushing her whole body right into the side of your legs: the soft, solid length, warm flesh and curves everywhere pressing into you.

You sit back, and just watch Hyeju with her eyes cool and composed, like half of her fucking face isn't streaked with your cum, mouth wrapped and looking fucking satisfied to be a total, gorgeous mess. She makes a dramatic display of kissing the tip again, just before telling you words you probably dreamt up at some point - either sleep deprived, or, during three AM jackoff, fantasizing. "Sometimes, just from riding your cock, I can't sit up straight."

"Fuck," and you feel your whole body run rigid, because apparently that's something you’ve been aching to hear.

You're covering her mouth again. White streaking onto her lips - where she's catching it in the well beneath her tongue and letting it spill out of the corner of her mouth. Into the crook of your thumb, which catches a drip here and there and rubs it down the length - down the curve - and pushes it back between Hyeju's pert little pout.

"Doesn't count, mister, just more pre-cum," she says, all with the audacity of a wink and smile; her words are a little garbled around the head of your cock between her teeth. And when you nod and realize just how painfully your jaw hurts, your throat becomes tight and raw, a knot pulling the underside from the center. Hyeju slides her lips lower, lower down, to the hilt and stays there, just like that - one hand holding down the flat of your belly to keep your hips still, her chin hanging - bobbing-as she feels every pulse, every twitching shift. You curl one hand around the side of her face, over the sharp edge of her jaw; rub a thumb into the delicate skin of her throat.

She shifts. You start to tell her what you like: how hot the rush comes when a girl puts her tongue against the slit at the very tip, and licks at the precum in nice, quick circles, soft and fluttering. And how her fingers shouldn't hesitate either, Hyeju's not even struggling to give it to you - god - just giving and -

She jerks her head up, swallowing down her next breath like it's one of her last. "I'm serious, if you're going to fuck a hole, start with my mouth - we can move onto everything else after."

"You're ridiculous -"

She meets her lips to your head, kissing once. Again. Kissing every inch, letting her mouth wrap around and then just - staying, just - staying like that and humming, with you, enjoying the fullness, the smell of you, the taste, the shape, just the weight and size and you.

There is spit fucking everywhere.

And if it's not clear what you're supposed to be doing - her fingers weave through yours, squeezing hard at the wrist and you can imagine: pulling her forward by her hair and holding her down while she chokes on your cock. "Fuck, Hyeju," you say, and your voice comes out way shakier than you'd like, "when, how did it get like this, huh? You always - always did, shit, always want your mouth filled."

"Never figured you to be someone who'd get turned on watching their friend sucking their cock like this."

"Doesn't everybody love the sight of their cock in a pretty girl's mouth?

"You were really convinced they weren't lining up behind you? Or anyone in the queue who can't keep their eyes off of this thing. Tell me, and try not to lie, try not to bullshit this one out: how many girls have you come home and fucked and creamed their brains out - then asked for the sloppiest, most -"

"Honestly."

"- Filthiest, nasty, ball-busting, gut-wrenching blowjob ever to make them think - to make them really start wondering what the hell it was you did - like it's gotta be something that leaves them so ruined, they can't ever not compare - can't ever not compare this moment, right here. Ever. When you give them the hardest fucking of their life, compared to any other guy - can't not, because no-one, literally no-one's cock can fuck like you do-"

"Fuck-"

"Any harder. Come on, seriously, tell me it isn't true. Come on."

Her voice - her fucking words, the tone she uses and how her words roll: honey-warm and soaking with sweet, thick degradation - she talks like sex, and that's exactly what gets you harder, like it’s something else; like it’s nothing, like it’s less, so much worse - you feel this guilty-dirty heat pool at your tailbone and push down the hard press of you throbbing all the way to her nose. And Hyeju smiles as much as she's capable around the fat, round stretch, humming around the warm taste of you, before opening wide and sinking her throat on it.

There's nothing like it.

You've got two fists in her hair; she's so tight and wet around every god-damn inch. Her cheeks flush - hot to the touch; her tongue laving in slow, long drags, slicking your shaft nice and warm until you're balls-deep and pushing her further: a small shift to the hips, a push here, a harder, faster pull, and Hyeju's feet behind her go curling like an angry cat, wanting the tug.

A long, satisfied breath slips from the hollows of her throat.

There are tears threatening, thickening her lashes, and though she doesn't choke - you're just afraid. Every sound that she pulls out, her eyes blinking up to you as if it's only natural to love getting used by her friend's cock, like the very premise of it - swallowing down the very shape of you, dragged over her tongue and brushing cum into the back of her throat - is something she can’t go without.

But this is nothing compared to the noises from where her lips are pressed tight around you, where you're hearing and even feeling:

That gluck, gluck - where her chest spasms just the slightest when her nose gets nuzzled right into your belly and you remember how much she likes to hear you talk dirty, how fucking wet it gets her. The heavy, deep breaths, gasps; the strangled moans when your hips just buck - the heat and the thrill, and this is better than every other time because there's just something in this moment -

"I'm not gonna come again, not like this. Not in your mouth. You can’t-"

But Hyeju refuses to hear a word; just pumps your shaft faster, feeling it's familiar hardness grow and throb and ache and retch, all her effort paying off: you're slick with precum and spit, hard and straining, the whole shaft begging for release - all because of her. And Hyeju won't stop, she pushes her cheek onto your thigh and then taps a hand there to pull your hips. The motion drives your cock further still inside her. Until it’s bathed in her spit, your cum, all this mess.

Until it's reaching, choking her, and the muffled sounds she's making are filthy and wet and so incredulously hot.

But god. Hyeju has something of a temper and a habit, too: with those big beautiful eyes and the perfect plump of her pouting lips, her tits swelling up around, when your grip slips on her shoulder, and her mouth goes tighter - how the pleasure begins to make you unbearably cruel and you push her away from you, only for a second -

She doesn't wait or seem to care; Hyeju follows the cock with her whole head and whimpers so hotly in her throat when it plops right back on her tongue. "That's more - more like - fuck, oh, there we go," her nose and fingers prodding.

You groan through a high, strangled whimper, a helpless shiver that turns into an uncontrollable roll of the hips - you can't believe it: she's already so thoroughly debauched and defaced; just fucking painted with it. Your cum dripping off her chin and rolling down her neck.

"Fuck - gonna make me - ah, Jesus -"

When Hyeju seems to have reached her fill, the feeling, you're cumming - pumping the length of your shaft. And the moment she feels you twitch and throb and that first hot spill lands in the bend of her mouth, it's as if she understands and holds herself tight - her legs going stock-still while your eyes blow up behind her, your cock spewing another and then another thick, milky load into her mouth, over her tongue: all along the topography of her throat - sticky cum landing in every ridge and valley -

Hyeju catches as much as she can. What little she can. You cum and pump and gush so much that when you're finally finished - done - every last drop spent and given - your cock throbs soft between her fingers; her chin is a complete and utter mess and her chest heaves with the sound of her catching her own breath. Hyeju groans softly and just swishes the load around in her mouth for a bit as if wanting to remember its feel and weight before lifting her eyes to look into yours. You can just barely see the color.

"Jesus, Hyeju-"

The entire bit of it, slick and shining-wet. With a small moan, a sound from the back of her throat: one swallow and the cum is gone, disappeared, vanished. She smiles like she didn't just ruin your entire goddamn life and, with her body limp and exhausted beside you - her gentle hand rubbing a flat stroke over your thigh before yours slips up to meet her chin.

"You," you curse and roll your eyes, catching the mess at the edge of her jaw, the very little left in the corners of her lips. You feed the cum over her bottom lip - her chin, her throat - watching your friend: Hyeju's throat, bobbing. "Really didn't have to," you start, but you realize just how useless a point it is to make.

She's smiling and biting and showing you what's left between the tips of her canines. "Do you always do this to the people who suck you off?"

"That's an awful habit. A pretty girl's lips aren't meant to get that messy," you reply.

"Oh." She frowns. "Well, I do a lot of things I shouldn't."

"God, seriously," and you think there's no greater hell, no sweeter pain than whatever's lingering in these little aftershocks - this fizzling and dying sort of pain, where the body is buzzed with all you're aching for. It's impossible to stop this train of thoughts, is the fucking feeling of her-

But just then, Hyeju rises to her knees, a new spark in her eyes, as she grabs ahold of your wrist and tugs you off the sheets, a few inches closer.

"And you," she purrs as she drags the palm of your hand across her neck and collarbone, collecting what remains and making the perfect image, "well - you are going to help clean me up, like you said before." She sits tall; the arch of her spine is pronounced - her back, so, very, slightly tapering, to where your hand slips right off the last of it: the wide flare of her hips. "Now isn't that the gentleman's thing to do?" she asks.

"Of course." You sigh, resigned and in desperate need of water. "Of course," you add and smirk a little and slip your hand lower, toward where her skin is getting hot, and her body, "let's get you clean."

"Mm." She's already grinning. "You know what wasn't in those textbooks?"

"Oh, I can only guess." You bite your cheek and start to lower yourself back. "Give it a try."

Hyeju drags you by the wrist toward the hall, the bathroom, ostensibly the shower -

"There's no way in hell you don't want to put a baby in me, like, right fucking now."

"Is that what we're doing?"

Hyeju makes a face like you're stupid - she might've grabbed a towel on the way out. She wipes her chin a little while walking - the corner of her mouth where, well - where it looks like a little dribble has somehow remained. "No. But you’re going to fuck me like it is."

(There's got so much on her mind.

The door of the shower rattling in its frame as she struggles standing up against it. Getting fucked so fast and full, the feeling of both your hands cupped beneath the weight of her breasts. It's not the fact of where you are and your situation, per say - more about the immediate, the imperative nature. About fucking you. She was already feeling herself like, leaking the moment the door shut, so all that waiting, all that patience, really - and it's what drove her insane when you were, well: like that, after she put her mouth around your cock, made a right and proper mess of herself, and sucked you off.

Though there's less on her mind, clearly, when she cums all over your cock.

She's crying with her tits up onto the glass, your palm holding her ribs. Your cum-slick cock working itself hard again as it slips, back and forth, as you're fucking her open, spread apart. It's your finger in her asshole. That's what's on her mind then. How the press of your knuckle lights her entire fucking spine on fire - how the other hand finds her clit in all this, too, when you're no longer supporting the both of you but rather Hyeju is folding on her bent knee and trusting, on shaking and shivering, raw nerves, that you're not going to collapse.

"Fucking. God, please-"

There's the harsh slap of flesh - skin on wet skin, your palms against the sides of her ass and the curve of the breast. But otherwise - it's you, sighing - soft and gentle, like you can't get over the feel of her. "Hyeju, oh-fucking, god, fucking," is what you're saying, and it doesn't end up really mattering which one of you came last because she can feel you twitching, squelching in and out with how badly you're wanting to explode inside, but also you can feel her cunt absolutely begging, this fucking fluttering and clamping down on every thrust and the moment you manage to grind this angle she loses her ability to speak properly because you're not just, like - fucking her-

Just, absolutely, completely pounding her pussy, stretching her insides, dragging and sliding along the walls; each rough rub and thrust makes her knees quiver until her body is trembling and falling. But mostly her voice, the sharp gasp that shakes into her, how her nails are scraping the walls of the shower stall and she's saying - telling, crying and asking and wondering and pleading - just utterly astounded:

"Amazing," she huffs, breathes coming out cloudy and true onto the pane of glass, "you - it’s, fucking amazing.")

“And I am… Ironman.”

Your eyes flicker awake, hazy, as Tony Stark snaps his fingers, killing himself alongside Thanos’ army in the process.

The TV's long been running on background noise, though not as ambient. Its characters now bickering between the rubble and ruins and being picked up for the end credits. In the dark of the screen, you see Hyeju had nodded off and slumped over the side of your body. A new year means new beginning means resolutions and diets and gym routines -

Maybe no sooner than the sun can come up, apparently.

You lean over to grab your phone from the table: 4:14 A.M.

There's a lot of things you want to say, even more you want to hear, but your mind has begun to settle a bit - a lazy and dreamy thing that fills you with this sort of, tired kind of - not sad, or empty - no, of course not. That's hardly fitting; not after tonight. You want to wrap this in an idealistic sort of sentiment - maybe hold Hyeju close and let the hour carry you and the comfort be enough to forgive whatever there is to miss: like the fact, it's still really dark, so dark even outside. The moon reflecting off the sheet of snow on the street. And not even a distant dog barking, or car driving by or someone playing loud music in the early hours of the new year.

As the film drifts off into another set of commercials, you slip into an easy sleep that feels effortless. Your head drops, landing on the cushion by the arm of the couch, where Hyeju's hand begins to slip mindlessly across your belly, tickling your waist and causing you to slightly squirm - things are cooling down, but still a little agitated.

"Don't tell me you're waking me up, cause I just -"

She kisses the pulse at your throat and answers, mumbling half-words into the spot below your ear. "A kiss for a new year."

And maybe the world doesn't owe you anything at all.

Maybe it just gave you more than enough.

#hyeju smut #loona smut #loona hyeju smut #loossemble smut #loossemble hyeju smut #olivia hye smut #loona olivia hye smut #kpop smut #male reader #capslocked kinkvember

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hana-no-seiiki · 1 month

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I’ve been stuck on this idea. Jinx reader with the batfam…I know you had it in your master list and I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Maybe when the reader was little, they doodled and made little trinkets like powder. So I’m thinking that the reader doodled on batmans tools. Kinda like how powder/jinx made their weapons with faces on them.

So maybe Batman and the rest of the boys were gone and reader snuck into the bar cave and started doodling on their masks and weapons.

And just another thought 😅

When reader is older, they become a vigilante, causing chaos for the fun of it but also doing it for good. They also move out when they were a kid, because maybe Batman called then a jinx (I’m really going for the arcane storyline 😭😭😭)

Maybe the batfam tries to bring her back, but she just kinda runs away laughing while throwing glitter bombs 😭😭😭

Just something I thought of

I don’t usually write reader as childhood friends with the guys here unless it’s cat villain (which is more like childhood rivals) so this is quite the change.

In my og storyline which i have semi spoiled and will spoil some more here : Jason and Jinx! Reader were part of a found family and Jason having a massive crush on reader gave them tools to make explosives they really shouldnt have. Which is kind of poetic knowing how he ‘dies’.

I’m not sure if this ask is platonic or romantic so I’ll just go with my preference, the latter.

this is just a little snippet since i started working on jinx reader again huhu wanna save the juicy stuff for that one

Jinx! Reader was known as the runt of the litter among Bruce’s adopted children. Physically weak, above average in smarts but nothing compared to the rest. The only thing they had going for them was their skill with firearms which Bruce heavily discouraged and admonished the practice of.

Jason and you bonded with rebelling against him. He’d often bring you out to abandoned arcades that you two would repair from scraps you found in the Batcave. Dude was down atrocious. He kept bringing you to missions purely because he couldn’t resist your face. Sure he was snarky at times, but your common upbringing made him more soft around you. (Sometimes he purposely puts you in situations where you’d get caught just so he can ‘save’ you. The way you hold unto him for dear life is…simply exhilarating)

But try as he might, he could never fill the hole you had in your heart. Your desire for a complete family. For validation. For Bruce to finally acknowledge your worth. For Damian to stop calling you a fucking waste of space.

You ended up screwing a mission so badly that you indirectly killed dozens of Gotham citizens.

Usually you would just compromise their positions during patrols but this was… this was something irreversible. Something that affected friends, families, actual living breathing people.

Bruce had a tight cap on his emotions, but he just couldn’t stop himself from taking out his anger, grief and frustration out on you.

Dick and Jason managed to pull him back before he could hurt you beyond a punch to the face, but the psychological damage had already been cemented.

You run away, running into Harley Quinn.

But instead of following the path my og jinx reader did, Joker wasn’t there to fuck with your head even further. So you sought to repay for your sins.

Still, the screams. The way Bruce called you useless, a jinx. The memories of being neglected and inferior.

Sometimes chaos was the only way to make it shut up.

#hns.txt💬#hns.ask💌#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagine #yandere fic #yandere core #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam x you #batfam #batfam x reader #jason todd #jason todd x reader #yandere jason todd #yandere jason todd x reader #yandere red hood #red hood x reader

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bunnyreaper · 6 months

Text

𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘 𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝖕𝖙 4 — 𝖕𝖙 3 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 wc - 5.8k warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom/sub dynamic, hints of petplay notes - i blame barry for the delay, jk. anyway, sorry it took so long but i hope you enjoy! also on ao3! ♥

You've officially reached the point of insanity, and there's no turning back. One date with Johnny, and you're practically doodling his name in a journal with hearts all around, or putting your name with his just to see how it sounds.

Admittedly, you haven't done either of those things, but you did turn down another night out drinking this weekend on the off chance you end up having plans with Johnny—which might be just as insane, if not more. Especially since you hadn't brought up your intention with Johnny.

You suppose there's no time like the present, so cuddled up on your couch, you bring up your messages to Johnny and start typing.

i miss you so much, even if it's only been a few days!! when can I see you again?

Straight to the point—unbridled emotion that's honestly a little cringeworthy, but there's little point in pretending to be something you're not, especially when Johnny seems perfectly into it.

You have to distract yourself for a little while, scrolling through various social media apps to occupy your mind as you wait for a response. It's not too long before your phone pings, and you're rushing to click the notification—each time his name pops up on your screen your stomach flips, and you always click onto the message far too eagerly. You wonder if he does the same.

Been thinking, and I did have an idea in mind, but now am overthinking.

That certainly piques your interest, as you speedily type back a response, almost demanding an answer.

tell me!!

You watch the screen as it tells you Johnny is typing, then nothing. Then typing again, then nothing. After a minute or so of stopping and starting, his picture fills the screen as his call waits for you—you pick up immediately.

"Hey, pet." He greets cheerfully—so much so that you can hear the smile in his voice. It's so much better now the image of it is burned in the back of your mind—it feels like the two of you never stopped smiling when you were together.

"Hi, Johnny!" You reply, just as enthused, despite it only being a day since you last spoke. "What's your idea?"

Your insistence on hearing his idea makes him laugh.

"Straight to the point, lass. I was thinking that ya could come stay fer the weekend?" You detect a hint of hesitance in his voice, while your heart practically leaps at the prospect.

A whole weekend with Johnny sounds like a dream—talking, cuddling, kissing... maybe more. You burn with need thinking about finally taking things to a more sexual level with Johnny. So far you've only teased each other, and even that has made you unbelievably needy—practically every conversation with him leaves you dripping and aching, leaves you yearning for relief that you can only get at Johnny's hands.

Not only that, but maybe you'll get to explore more of your dynamic together—the thought of getting to submit to him sends you into a tailspin. You know it would come so easily, you know you'd slip under Johnny's command so easily were he to just take ahold of your metaphorical leash.

You come to, realising you'd fallen completely silent instead of responding when Johnny speaks again—lighthearted yet hesitant.

"... But it's okay if you don't want to—"

"I want to! On base?" You ask, already starting to unfurl the logistics in your head.

Johnny chuckles good-naturedly, seemingly amused by the idea of having you come over to his place on base. "Nah, I have a flat in Hereford."

"Oh, cool. I was a little scared for a moment." You admit, a hint of nervousness before you change tack. "But ooh, are you aiming to get laid this weekend? Bold move, Johnny."

Admittedly, you're teasing and not offended by the assumption in the slightest, if anything, you know wholeheartedly that you want him. If you go on much longer with the level of teasing Johnny subjects you to without any relief, you may just combust.

"You're the one making assumptions, needy girl." He teases right back, and then continues more earnestly. "I wasn't counting on it, jus' want to spend some quality time with you. Can't exactly cuddle up in a café."

How he manages to balance wholesome and filthy so well you have no idea. Consistently, Johnny shows his depth and keeps you on your toes by making you flustered in every possible way. One moment you're blushing from desire, the next from his sweetness.

"So... it's a sleepover, then?" You giggle as you snuggle closer to the couch cushions, already thrilled at the idea of spending time with Johnny in any way.

Johnny laughs right along with you, launching back into joking. "I'll even paint your nails if ya want. Braid your hair, talk about boys, as long as the boy is me..."

The hint of possessiveness makes your stomach do somersaults—despite the early stages of your relationship, your heart is set on Johnny, and it's reassuring to know he might be in just as deep.

"You're the sweetest! Do you even know how to braid hair, though?" You try to imagine Johnny's large hands working with delicate strings of hair, as braiding is something you even struggle to do yourself.

"I have sisters and nieces. Taken part in many a makeover." He proudly admits, and you can feel the joy radiating off of him. No threat to his masculinity at all, just sheer enjoyment at being the subject of his niece's whims.

The image it conjures up is downright adorable.

You nod to yourself, storing that piece of information in the back of your mind for later. "I'll keep that in mind for when I need to dress up for a special occasion."

The giggles are unavoidable as you picture big, bulky Johnny painting nails—you'd put good money on him being the kind to poke out his tongue when he concentrates.

Your thoughts start to drift to other plans for the weekend, other things you might get up to. Johnny was adamant that sex wasn't expected, but on your end, it's certainly still desired... at least in theory.

There are still some residual nerves and worries, even with Johnny's constant sweetness—past events, past bad experiences lurk in the back of your mind waiting to sabotage the present.

The need you feel almost overwhelms all of that though—the way Johnny just seems to speak to all the submissive parts of you, making you feel so desired and so safe.

"So... what if I want to have sex?" You ask, voice falling quiet as if admitting something forbidden—as if Johnny isn't going to do filthy things to you far beyond just sex.

A throaty, strained groan leaves the man, his voice dropping low and dripping with desire. "Might have to have you stay longer, since you won't be walking after."

You suspect the idea of you struggling to walk isn't just bragging—if you close your eyes, you can almost see his length, remembering how good it felt even though thick denim jeans.

"I— yeah, okay." The sigh that leaves you is instinctual, hot with anticipation.

"I've got condoms, but yer welcome to bring your own," Johnny mentions. "And I'll pick ya up Friday evening, drop you off Sunday night? How's that sound?"

"Wonderful." You say honestly, loving that you'll get to spend the weekend with him, all while being cared for and driven there and back. "Ooh, I get to be your passenger princess."

You giggle mischievously, playing it up for Johnny as your mind runs wild with ideas.

"Don't be getting any ideas, lass." He chides, playfulness clear in his tone.

"Hey, I was just planning on taking over your radio and telling you fun stories. Nothing more!" Your voice rises through your protest, as before Johnny had turned it dirty, you really hadn't been thinking of the way your hands may drift to his thigh, or palm at his cock.

"Not sure if I believe that. I felt the way you were squeezin' me under that table, yer a naughty girl." He purrs, making shivers run through you.

"You started it, not me." Your gasp is full of offence, proclaiming your complete innocence. Of course, you had wanted to feel him up way more than you did and had undoubtedly had a few very sinful thoughts while he was sitting next to you.

But you had been good, had behaved, and kept your hands to yourself. It was Johnny who led you to sin.

"So, you won't be feeling me up unless I'm the one guiding you?"

At that you fall silent, too stunned to speak—the thought of Johnny guiding you through pleasing him, guiding you into being perfect, just for him is overwhelming. He'll lead you deeper and deeper into submission—trust.

"Oh, you like the sound of that." Johnny's purr has you completely dead to rights, as once more, he sees right through you.

You take a few deep breaths, trying to settle your rapidly swirling arousal. "Of course I do..."

Johnny doesn't relent in his teasing, in his almost cruel display of control of your desire. Everything from his word choice to the dominant edge in his voice sends you spiralling. "Want me to show you how to please me, puppy?" He coos. "Show you how tae be a good girl fer me?"

"Please, sir." You feel your mind slip just a little—falling so easily into that blissful state just listening to Johnny's tone, finding it so easy to fall for him.

"Won't have to show you much, you just know how to turn me on naturally, like it's instinct. Fuck, lassie." The guttural noise from Johnny shows the effect his own words have on him too.

You hope he's squirming just like you are, achingly hard and straining against his jeans, just like he was in the café.

The tension crackles in the air between you, the silence thick with your joint lust settling deep in your respective guts.

You let out a shaky sigh before you respond. "It's only fair for us to be equal on that front since you just... I don't even have words. It's like you read my mind so you can drive me crazy."

Johnny is undoubtedly insightful, likely an occupational thing, but sometimes it's scary how well he can read you. He's not the only one who naturally knows how to appeal to someone's baser desires.

For a moment, and quite unfairly as the logical side of your brain notes, your gut twists at the idea of how he became so well practised.

Johnny's sweet laugh pulls you from that train of thought. "Am a smart man, perceptive, what can I say? Know how to read ma pet."

"I'm not your pet." You note, not bitterly, but rather plainly. You're not Johnny's—

"Not yet, aye, but you will be." He says with a sense of certainty.

"Johnny..." You don't even know what to say to that, beyond begging and pleading for him to make it come true—but that hardly feels appropriate right now.

"Even if we don't have sex this weekend, I'd like to explore things with us a little, if tha's okay?" He asks, his voice open and inquisitive, almost shy in how quietly he poses the question.

"Me too, I don't wanna rush too much but holding back somehow feels...wrong." You sigh, wishing you had the words to really explain the pull you felt. "It's like I know I shouldn't be rushing head first into this, but... I can't stop it."

Johnny is truly a magnetic force of a man, both in who he is and the way he treats you. There's so much about him that you can't wait to get to know, all the beauty and scars in equal measure, each story—the meaning of the waver behind his smile, the way he sounds first thing in the morning.

"Me either, if it helps." He admits, sharing the sentiment. "It's okay to fall, just gotta be there tae catch each other, aye?"

Your eyes flutter shut as you rip the phone away from your face, letting out a loud exhalation and a whispered "fuck". The warmth of his words and the weight of the meaning behind them overwhelming you, wrapping around you like a cosy blanket.

When you feel a little calmer, you return the phone to your ear to agree with Johnny's sentiment, though not quite as viscerally as you did in private.

"Yeah, just gotta keep each other straight." Your throat tightens as you push the words out.

The silence on the line is overtaken by shuffling from Johnny's end for a moment before he clears his throat. "Gotta go, pet. Duty calls."

"It's... 8 pm, what are you doing at this hour?"

There's a laugh from Johnny, and a more insistent knocking in the background. "Going for a pint with the lads."

"Oh duty, huh?" You tease.

He hums in affirmation, unashamed. "Team bonding, essential stuff for the functional operation of any squad."

"Have fun, Johnny." You wish him well sincerely, even if part of you wishes the call didn't have to end. "Talk soon."

"Talk soon, princess. Sleep well." He makes a kissing noise before ending the call, his photo disappearing off your screen before you lock the phone and clutch it to your chest just for a moment.

'It's okay to fall, just gotta be there tae catch each other.'

His words echo through your mind over the coming days—the light in an otherwise dreary weak.

You were definitely falling.

————

Packing your bag feels like chaos, as you desperately scramble to not forget a single thing. You're only going for a weekend, and yet you're packing like you're bunkering down for the apocalypse. Well, a million pairs of underwear will be necessary with how Johnny ruins them just with his words and his voice—being there in person means you'll probably be going through a new pair every hour.

And of course, you need cute extra outfits, in case the two of you go anywhere... that means extra shoes too. Johnny is going to think you're crazy with all the bags and belongings you're bringing.

Thankfully, you got ready hours ago—did your makeup and hair to perfection and put on a pretty dress that you may have ordered just for Johnny. Okay, maybe you ordered several dresses just for Johnny.

As you rush to put the finishing touches on your packing, your phone buzzes with a text.

Outside whenever you're ready :)

i'll be out soon! <3

Maybe you should tell Johnny you'd buzz him up, but considering that your packing has made your flat look like a tornado has ripped through it, perhaps it's best not.

You do your best to rush, not wanting to exhaust Johnny's good patience, jamming in a few final items you might need just in case, before locking up your flat and heading down to the lobby.

You step out into the car park, spotting Johnny standing beaming, leaning against a jeep. His arms and chest bulge in his burgundy Henley, his jeans are slung low on his hips in such a tempting way. Is it possible he got more attractive since the last time you saw him?

Your eyes crawl over him, drinking in every little detail and falling for his good looks all over again—just as enraptured in his beauty as the first time.

"Hi." You call out as soon as the two of you meet eyes, the spark between you instantly reigniting just through a look.

"Hey, you." He immediately reaches for your bag, taking the weight off of your shoulder like it's nothing to him—even though the weight was already starting to strain your shoulder. "Let me grab that for yer."

You let him take your bag, watching with glee as opens the boot to put it away. The manners are such a turn-on. "What a gentleman."

His chest puffs up in pride, a resolute look on his face. "Ma maw raised me right."

After closing the door to the boot, Johnny jogs round to the passenger side, holding the door open for you to climb inside.

"That she did." You nod, impressed and honestly swooning at the princess treatment as Johnny climbs into the driver's side.

With the two of you finally in the car, Johnny leans back to grab a shopping bag from the backseat, opening it to display a range of goodies. "Need anything? I brought drinks and snacks."

You peer inside the bag to see what he brought before meekly taking a bag of cookies and a can to drink. "Ooh, it's like a real road trip."

Johnny reaches back to put the bag away, stopping with his hand resting on the back of your seat—his baby blues shine, as does his smile as he looks upon you. "Gotta look after ma girl."

Your heart hammers against your chest, your cheeks flush and burn.

His girl.

"I could get used to that." You whisper, lost in watching his mouth, recalling the way they wrapped around those words.

"Me too, bonnie."

Before he turns his attention to getting the car running, he double-checks your seatbelt, making sure you're safe—he makes sure his rearview mirror is perfectly placed taps to activate the directions on his phone.

And then he does the thing—the arm on the back of the seat, backing out of the parking space and looking so fucking hot while doing it. You're entirely transfixed.

"I'm just getting it out of the way now, but I am gonna stare at you a tonne, you already look so attractive when you're driving." You know you're babbling just a little, a side effect of the nerves, and the fact that Johnny looks so good to you right now.1

"I'm all yours to feast yer eyes upon." He says with a wink, before turning his attention to the road as he pulls out of your apartment's car park.

"Lucky me." You whisper, gaze tracing over all of his features. "Especially since I love looking at you so much."

"Shame fer me tha' I have tae keep my eyes on the road." The smile on his face widens as he spares you a glance, doing a quick double-take.

"At least we have all weekend to spend time together uninterrupted." Feeling brave, you reach out to rest your hand on the back of Johnny's head, caressing the nape of his neck and threading your fingers in the roots of his hair.

Johnny's shoulders relax, as he leans slightly into the touch. "That we do." His voice turns serious momentarily. "Did you let someone know where you're going?"

Sweet Johnny, always concerned for your safety, even when it comes to him. The awareness he shows is another thing in the long list of little details you admire about him.

"I forwarded all of your info to a friend, so you should be very afraid." You tease easily. Your friend is under strict instructions to call the police should you not check-in.

"Terrified, lassie." He smirks. "Just tae be clear, you wanna go home at any point, I'll take you, or drive you to the station if yer not comfortable."

"I appreciate it. And if you want to kick me out, feel free."

"I'd never." He gasps, full of offence. "Unless ya decide to trash my flat, and even then that's only if you started damaging my keepsakes from ma granny."

It's your turn to gasp now. You wonder if that comment was inspired by past events—the kind of warning that only comes after you've experienced the event. "Only a monster would do such a thing."

"Aye, and I bet you can be a brat, but not a monster."

You shrug, a coy smile on your face, knowing just how bratty you can be when you want to be. "Everyone needs to be a little bratty sometimes."

"Hmm, do they now? Good job I won't get tired of putting you in yer place then, pet."

Johnny's hand slides from the gear stick to your thigh, his fingers curling around the exposed flesh just above your knee. The feeling is entirely electric, especially in combination with his words, making you hyper-aware of every sensation as his thumb sweeps over your skin and his hand tugs your legs ever so slightly apart.

"This okay?" He asks, glancing down to where his hand is settled on you—you know 100% if you said no, he'd withdraw in an instant.

"More than okay." You smile earnestly, slipping your own hand across to rest in the same place on his broad thigh. "But can I do the same?" You embrace the denim beneath your fingertips, relish in the firm muscle that rests underneath.

"As long as it's just tha', don't distract me too much." He smirks, turning briefly to wink at you.

You try to keep your eyes on the road and your hands respectful. "Can't concentrate on two things at once? Seems unlike you." You tease.

"I can." He protests, firm and certain, before his voice softens. "But I dinnae want to risk it. Precious cargo on board." He fixes you with a meaningful look in between glances at the road.

"Johnny..." You sigh, blushing profusely at his compliment and way of thinking.

"Dinnae care what anyone says, a man who'll drive like a nut with his lovie in the car is no man at all." He nods firmly, face morphing into something serious—though his eyes are filled with mirth, as his serious facade almost cracks."

"So no road head... ever?" You gasp, genuinely a little taken back at the prospect.

Johnny breathes deeply through his nose, his knuckles on the wheel turning white as his hand at your thigh grips. He faces ahead still, yet speaks slowly. "If the first time I get yer pretty mouth on me is while I'm drivin', I will crash, tha's all am saying."

"I value your honesty." Your voice leaves you as a whisper, your attempt to joke falling flat at your own breathlessness. You take a moment to compose yourself, before starting to tease again. "Save it for tonight, then?"

It's Johnny's turn to swallow hard. "We'll see."

The car journey falls silent for a little while, and the lack of conversation, while comfortable, allows for unpleasant and doubtful thoughts to creep in.

The truth is, you can talk a big game, but sometimes your desire becomes outpaced by your nerves—then you're left struggling in a swirling pit of darkened thoughts. Every time Johnny pulls away to change gear, you find yourself feeling a little colder until his hand returns.

But it doesn't do well to dwell on anxious thoughts. You force yourself to stop biting your lip, stop letting your mind flicker back to bad experiences, and actually speak to the one person who can offer you comfort right now.

"I am a little nervous..." You let the words fall free, and feel a little surprised at how small you sound.

"Aww, don't be. There's no pressure at all, promise." He says, sounding sweet and genuine—his hand squeezes your thigh once again. "Even if the furthest we go is cuddling on the couch, I'll be a very happy man."

The smile on his face speaks to the truth of the statement, and you can't help smiling right back at him.

"I appreciate you saying that." You think for a moment before continuing, trying to put into words the true source of your angst. "I just... get hesitant about opening up, I guess. Some guys before have promised me the world until they got what they wanted and then..."

You trail off, not feeling the need or the strength to go into detail about last time, or the time before that.

"Tha's not me." Once more, he squeezes and lets his thumb rub over your skin. "But I don't expect ya to just take my word for it, I'll show ya, as long as it takes."

His words mean more than you can say, and the fact he intends to back them up means even more. You really hope you can count on him.

"You're so sweet." You sigh, feeling full to the brim with appreciation.

Johnny seems a little nervous too, frenetic energy making him shuffle in his seat. He seems to be lost in thought for a few moments before he finally speaks up.

"I'm not looking to rush in and make a mistake maself. The last girl I dated..." He trails off too, his words tinged with dejection as he stares straight ahead. "Let's jus' say it didn't end well, either."

You nod understandingly, all too familiar with things not ending well. "You don't have to tell me now."

He shrugs slightly and seems like he's refusing to meet your eye any longer. "Don't want tae ruin the mood."

"It's hard to ruin it, Johnny. We're meant to be spending time together, getting to know each other." You offer your most reassuring smile, hoping he catches it out of the corner of his eyes. "I have my fair share of sob stories to unload on you, don't worry."

Although, that's another source of worry, that Johnny will run for the hills once he learns of your baggage.

"I don't doubt it." His lips fall into a frown, before being schooled into a half-hearted smile. "Hopefully we can replace them all with good stories instead."

You silently nod, hoping for the same.

"Speaking of good memories, I was thinking we could make pizzas together, I got the dough and some toppings." Johnny mentions, and the notion fills you with joy.

"Sounds like fun!" You gasp, a pressing thought flickering into your mind. "What kind of pizza toppings do you like? I feel like this is make or break."

Johnny seems to think for a moment, his tongue poking into his cheek. "Hmm... What are the most controversial choices?" He asks, a shit-eating grin breaking out on his face.

"Hmm, pineapple?" You pose a controversial yet not particularly gross topping first, to gauge Johnny's taste.

"Aye, don't mind it."

"Anchovies?"

He shrugs. "Why not?"

"... Olives?"

Now he turns, perplexed. "Who doesn't like olives?"

"A lot of people! They're horrible." You whine.

"The black ones aren't so bad, ya big baby." Johnny looks as he turns in time to watch you frown, his voice turning so condescending. "Aww, poutin' like one too. What did I tell ya about poutin' in front of me?"

"That you'd kiss me, nibble on me even." You squeak.

You watch as everything about him changes—his eyes grow stormy and lidded, his lips curl into a satisfied smirk and his voice drops dangerously low. "As soon as we get back, those lips o' yours are mine."

"... Yes Johnny." Your reply comes automatically, an instinct that you know will be capitalised on.

"Sound so sweet when ya say my name like that." He smiles brightly, genuinely pleased.

"Wait til you're fucking it out of me."

"That won't be the name I want to hear from that pretty little mouth, bonnie girl."

Shit.

You shiver all over, squirming in your seat. "Yes sir."

"Fuuuuck." Johnny groans, squeezing your thigh extra tight for good measure. "We should set some ground rules for the weekend."

He suddenly sounds quite serious, though you suppose it's a good thing. Boundaries are needed, especially if you're to keep things sensible and consensual.

"Yeah, sounds good." You nod, falling quiet to allow him to lead the way.

"I'm not gonna make ya do anything, don't think we're ready for that, but I'd like to tease it, if tha's okay?" You love the way he sounds measured and yet hopeful.

"More than okay, though I'm sure you love to tease." You giggle, filled with a little nervous energy. Johnny already teases you so much, if he steps up his game any more you might straight up melt into a puddle.

"Who doesn't? What did ya say about everyone needing to be a brat?" He jokes, winking—all charm. "But aye, think we need a long talk first before anything proper."

"I look forward to it, though." You admit. Despite detailing a lot of your interests and limits in your initial post, it's good that Johnny is adamant about revisiting them properly. Still, you're excited to get to a point where you both feel comfortable truly exploring your dynamic. "So... can I call you sir?"

Johnny falls quiet for a moment. "If it comes naturally to yer. Feel like it's something I should earn."

"You're already doing it, you make it easier to trust you with everything that you do." Like insisting the name is something earned, you think.

"I'm glad tae hear that." He nods, the smile on his face only slight, as he weighs his responsibility.

"I do have some questions, though." You begin, somewhat hesitantly, but you suppose it's good to lay your cards on the table completely. A part of you can't live with uncertainty—needs to know Johnny's true intentions.

He eyes you for a moment, before nodding. "Go on."

"So, say you had complete control over things going forward, what would you want to happen? What do you... want for our relationship?" You take a moment to breathe after spilling all of that.

Despite his focus on driving, you can see the cogs in Johnny's head turning as he mulls over your question.

"I want ya to be mine, in every sense of the word. My girl, my pet, my love. Everything, and I want tae be the same to you."

It's fortunate that you're stopped at a red light, so Johnny is free to look upon you, the meaning deep in his gaze stills you completely.

The light turns green, stealing his attention back, yet he continues to elaborate—a fond smile on his face.

"I'll always protect ya and look after ya, and you'll love me and care for me the way a good girl does."

"I'll get ya a pretty little collar, and a day one too, so no one ever forgets who you belong to."

It's amazing to you how Johnny can make your heart thump and cunt throb all in one sentence, in one look.

"We'll get you a cage, a nice training routine, and we'll fuck like animals."

His hand returns to your thigh, just as respectful as it has been all the drive thus far.

"And when we're not fucking each other's brains out, we're cuddling on the couch, going on dates, spending time with friends. All tha' normal couple stuff." He finishes up with a happy sigh, a far-off look in his eyes as he turns his attention back to you.

"What about you?"

After everything Johnny just said, an expression far beyond what you expected, you find it hard to verbalise anything at all, and certainly not something as wonderfully smooth and tempting.

You open and close your mouth a few times before finally getting your words out.

"Pretty much exactly the same." You cringe internally at how lame and lacklustre your words sound in response. "I'd like the dynamic to extend beyond the bedroom if we can manage it. For me, there isn't really an off switch."

You can only assume Johnny sees eye-to-eye with you on that, considering he replied to your post in the first place.

"Seems to come naturally with us, I like tha'."

"Me too."

Johnny removes his grasp from your thigh, opting to lace his fingers through the hand of yours sitting in your lap. "I'm glad we're on the same page, bonnie."

You squeeze his hand, relishing the way he instantly squeezes back reassuringly. Despite being connected in this way, you find it hard to look at him as you stumble through a self-conscious admission. "I was a little worried it was gonna be just sex."

"Already well beyond that, pet," Johnny replies in an instant, before chuckling and squeezing your hand again. "Dinnae go all shy on me now."

"Why? I'm sure you enjoy seeing me blush and squirm." You mumble, trying to hide your blushing cheeks.

Johnny hums, amused and content. "Good job tha' I know all the best ways to make it happen then."

You hide your face in your other hand, cupping your burning cheek and disgusting your shy smile. "It's only gonna get worse for me too, I know it."

"Promise to use my powers for good, lass."

You meet Johnny's gaze again, and feel a deep joy and contentedness flowing through every part of you.

"You better."

You drive through quiet, suburban streets on the outskirts of Hereford, rows of houses passing by until Johnny turns into a street—fairly empty, and neither upscale nor impoverished. On the end sits a house, since converted into two seemingly distinct flats.

"Here we are." He comments, pulling a car to a stop and turning off the engine. Johnny leaves the car first, eager to open the door for you once more.

"Ooh, are you upstairs or downstairs?" You ask, looking at the flats and the surroundings.

"Upstairs," Johnny replies, grabbing your bag again. "Landlady lives downstairs, sweet woman."

Your mind is flooded with a little old lady, lonely and completely adoring when it comes to her young renter. "I'm sure you have her completely charmed." You giggle, imagining the effect Johnny has on older women.

"Oh aye." He laughs too, a knowing glint in his eye as he leads you up the stairs, unlocking the door. "Keeps trying to set me up with her daughter."

"Is that so?"

"Mhmm."

As the door opens, the smell hits you—clean and fresh with an undertone of something masculine. The entryway is narrow and crowded with jackets and boots of all kinds.

"I better tell her you're off limits." You joke, as Johnny steps aside to allow you in.

He doesn't reply, simply taking ahold of you and pinning you to the door, slamming it closed behind you. His firm hands pin you by the hips, pressing you between him and the door in an instant.

"Johnny!" You gasp, breath stolen from you as Johnny is suddenly in your space—so close and hot and heavy.

He leans in, one of his hands from your hips drifting up your body, trailing up your breast and your neck, before stopping at your jaw. His large hand cups your face, thumb swiping across the plush of your lips, parting them slightly for him—he's entirely transfixed, eyes filled with arousal as they flicker between your lips and your eyes.

Closing the final few inches, his lips brush against yours, and you can practically taste the mint in his breath.

He dives in, kissing you fervently, pulling you flush against him as he practically devours your mouth with his lips and tongue. His teeth worry at your lip, his tongue collides with yours, and his hand at your waist grips you intently as a throaty groan leaves him. "Told you, pet, this mouth is mine now." taglist: @cooliofango @ramadiiiisme @pterodactyal @simonrillleyyysss @hexqueensupreme @ivymarquis @oilfics @ghosts-cyphera @msdrpreist @collmemabi @ysljoon @kmi-02 @mockerycrow @nakedcrackers @cassiecasluciluce @xcup1d @cloudsovercoffee @lovewithasideoflust @abbiesxox @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @bubuslutty want to be tagged? click here! want to be untagged? dm me or comment, i won't be offended <;3

#john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfiction #soap mw2 #call of duty fanfic #soap cod #collars and cages #keeping up the over 5k chapter length woooo

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