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#i just wanted to get them all drawn in the same style

nana-b0b · 1 day

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》🔞 These panels are censored, you can go to the last of the post to find out where to see them!

A little historical info to better understand:

♡♡♡♡♡!!! I really feel happy and overcome with these panels, I was thinking a lot about how to make them since there were several obstacles: I had never drawn something NSFW before as it should be 😅 I never got that far so to speak, there was always a line that prevented me from taking that step, since it is not the same to draw some small scene where you only see something specific to a whole pose as such and all that implies. But after many ideas and turns I managed to take that step (maybe small for some but for me it was like reaching the moon 😂) and the most important and most feared was that the essence of the drawings and the style would be lost but I could keep it well and make it coexist ♡.

Note: as for the text accompanying the panels I want to say that it's not my best work as a narrator hahaha I don't write anything since I was about fifteen and it was my era of fanfics and stuff, so I feel its very basic and empty! 😅 ♥!

Now, let's talk a bit about the panels! Well, as we all knew this moment was coming, it was no surprise -3- Ryomen really had to be patient to get what he had been thinking for a while, but he didn't want it to be something random as it could be with any woman he wanted, he was really curious to see how Aurora could look like with the full appearance of a lady of the Heian era and when he saw her, he just couldn't resist. One thing will be clear: Aurora won't wear black teeth again, there will be no way to paint her teeth again without someone losing a limb. As for her eyebrows: she's really mad about that, but I'll let it go.

And to close this post I come with a novelty (I've been thinking about this for days) now we are going to be able to have these drawings completely uncensored on patreon.

I'm not going to lie, using more than two social networks for me is already a lot 😥 if it were up to me I would only post everything in one place but we know how the rules are and we have to respect them, if just by showing a nipple (which is a pixel 😂 ) they almost censored me on Instagram I knew this would be difficult and Tumblr is not lagging behind, while there are things that it lets pass there are others that it doesn't and it's not nice to have to make such complex drawings so that the AI doesn't detect them as 🔞 since there comes a certain point that you get tired too and it loses the grace.

My patreon will be the place for all my works 🔞 without any censorship already, you are going to be able to enjoy both public and private content depending on the type of work ♡. I think also for me it's an incentive to be able to start letting go more of my ideas and continue with everything I want to do :)

To say goodbye first I want to always thank you for all the support you give me and all your messages 🖤 and second to warn you that this CAP of Ren will be in patreon already published privately but all the other censored drawings are public for you to see and enjoy them as they should ⭐

Here are the publications that I censored and that you can now see, there are not many at the moment x'D

#sketch #jjk #jujutsu fanart #sukuna ryomen #jjk oc #ransketch #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen

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hyperfixiation-station · 1 day

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The Filler Fics Pt.1

Beach Day Pt.1- Travel

Part 2

TW: Canon divergence, military inaccuracies, mentions of injuries/hospitals Inspired by @shyravenns art Summary: This is the first of many sitcom-style filler fics. Yk, the ones where they go to the beach, or go to the store, etc, etc. I am open to suggestions, as I don't really watch sitcoms, so please comment or request or DM me ideas!! This one is, of course, a beach-day fic that I have spilt into 2 parts. this is the getting there portions, pt.2 will be the beach :) WC:1080

It had been a long few months. The threat of global annihilation, the hunt for Makarov, Soap getting shot, it was just a lot, and they all needed a break.

Price had watched Gaz and Ghost spend night after sleepless night at Soap’s bedside, refusing to do anything until the Scotsman woke up. And he had been right there with them, although Ghost wouldn’t talk to him, the Lt. still pissed that Price’s actions, or rather inactions, may have gotten Soap killed. Price couldn't blame him. It’s not like he hadn’t been fixated on that one moment, mentally berating himself for stopping Soap from killing Makarov in the first place. He would have gotten in a shit-load of trouble for it, but anything would have been better than…well, he didn’t even want to think it.

The team couldn’t take another loss so soon after Roach’s death. Price knew that. Knew that if Soap didn’t make it his team would fall apart. And it would be his fault.

Thankfully, Soap was alright. He’d woken up a little disoriented, with no recollection of the week leading up to his…head wound. Other than some faint ringing in his ear and occasionally bouts of dizziness, he was alright, much to the relief of his squad members. However tensions were still running high. Just because the Scotsman was awake and talking didn’t mean the very real fear that his friends had felt over the past few weeks had vanished.

There were nights Price found himself studying Soap, watching the rise and fall of his chest proving he was alive. He’d seen Ghost reach up from his bunk and grab the Scot’s wrist, checking for a pulse after waking from what Price assumed was a nightmare. Things got a little better once Soap didn’t have to wear gauze over the wound anymore, but the scar was still an ugly reminder of what had almost happened.

Soap was constantly mother-henned now, not allowed to do training, having meals brought to him, never going anywhere by himself. It was starting to piss him off, and Price could see it. Tensions were running high, and it was only a matter of time before someone snapped.

“Give the boys some time off, time away from the battlefield. Time to recuperate and settle back in. They’ll be okay.” Laswell told him at their bi-weekly meeting they hadn’t had in 3 months. Price booked 4 flights and a week-long stay at a beach-house off the Coast of California that same night.

However, the flight left in 5 hours and he still hadn’t told his men. He moves through the base, heading towards the rec room that he knew they hang out at, hoping they are all in one spot.

Aaaaand bingo!

Ghost is sprawled out on the couch, Soap sitting on the floor, leaning against his thigh, with Gaz in the armchair opposite, watching some stupid show on the little TV they have. Price can’t help but stare at the long, inch wide streak where Soap’s hair hadn’t quite grown back, a grim reminder of how close he came to losing one of his men. His eyes are drawn from Soap's skull by Gaz’s laughter, the man's head tilted back, shoulders shaking at something that was said on the T.V.

The show cuts to commercial, and Price figures it’s as good a time as any to cut in.

“Alright boys, pack your bags. We’re going stateside.” All three of them look up at Price in varying degrees of confusion, “Laswell decided after Soap's near-death experience we all needed a little R&R, so we’re heading to the beach.”

“Ah’ll finally get tae see that ‘impeccable bronze’, eh Lt?” Soap nudges Ghost, a grin splitting his face.

“We’ll see Johnny.”

“The beach, captain?”

“Yes Gaz, the beach. You got complaints, go talk to Laswell.”

“Hey, no complaints here sir! Just makin’ sure.”

“Good. Because we leave in an hour so you don’t have time to complain anyway.”

“An hour??”

“No time f’r y’r beauty regime, Gaz.”

“Ah shaddup, just cause you’re jel-”

“Boys! Get to going!”

“Aye sir!” Price shakes his head as he watches them file out, Gaz and Ghost subconsciously sandwiching Soap in between them. The Scot shoves Gaz, his shoulders shaking as the shorter man lets out an angry squawk. Things have been tense, sure, but he can’t help his smile as his boys walk off, alive and well.

Ghost hates flying. Well, sort of. Military transport ain’t bad in his opinion, but when he has to fly commercial? With civilians? And screaming babies? He hates it. Hates it hates it hates it.

He's dressed in sweatpants and a sweatshirt, a black surgical mask adorning his face. HE may have gotten comfortable with his team seeing his face, but the rest of the pubic had not lived through numerous near death experiences alongside him, and thus did not get that honor. Covid had at least helped with the stares, nowadays no one really batted an eyes at him, which did, surprisingly, ease his discomfort.

He shifts in line, sandwiched between Gaz and Soap as they wait to board. Soap is turned slightly, placing the scar on the side of his head directly in Ghost's line of sight. Gods he wishes he could look anywhere else. But its to no avail. No matter how many time Johnny had reassured him he was 'okay', Ghost couldn't get the image of his teammate, his brother-in-arms, his friend unconscious in his own blood, out of his head. He just couldn't.

Yeah, sure, he should have told the court-mandated therapist about that, but the she wouldn't have signed off on him going back to service and then where would he be? That right, no-

"Ghost!" He's snapped out of his reverie by Price, who is giving him the look. Whatever. Price should know by now that he wasn't gonna spill his guts to anyone, much less someone with the power to kick him off the team.

He hands his ticket to the attendant, mumbling a 'thank yo' before following along after Johnny, hands shoved in his pockets. Johnny takes the window seat, so he takes the aisle, condemning Gaz to the middle. Besides, he was the only one that would fit there anyways.

The plane takes off and, as if on cue, a baby starts screaming in the front. Ghost sighs and slouches in his seat. This was going to be a looooong flight.

Let me know what you think:))

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trashmuis · 5 months

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Mmmmmmm ok so im very sorry folks, I meant to make some TCM content today but I got really busy and ended up not being at home so i didnt get a chance to make anything post worthy. rip... I will post some tho!! I'll make up for this i swear!! I'll finish stuff up so I can post it!!!! forgive me!

but uhhhh even tho today was busy, i did have a little bit of tequila when i was out in this evening after everything,,,, so when i did come home i actually just decided to rewatch Phantom of the Paradise instead of doing anything else like productive? (sorry again)

ive sobered up a little more now and i need to sleep but God damn man. it was so good to see the movie again. my husband was in disbelief the entire time. he both loved and hated it. he says it isnt a movie. I love the movie so much. the scene with The Phantom SPRINTING down the hall always kills me. it's such a raw shaky cam shot of him BOOKING IT i laugh so hard

and oh yeah,,, Winslow Leach. i love that tall nerd with the big blue eyes and thick-ass glasses and turtleneck sweater and fluffy hair!!! hes so fucking awkward and overly passionate and ugh! but also when he is the world's dorkiest goth bird man in the bodysuit with the black makeup im???? in love. im IN. love. i pretty much screamed in joy every time Winslow Leach was on screen bc I love that FUCKING DORK I LOVE HIM!!!! like why am I like this? why lmao

im gonna post all the fanart I've saved of this movie too bc it's all beautiful and amazing and I cant get enough. and yeah also the art and stuff I have too and some more tcm bc im still also obsessed with that too heehee

#William Finley just has this.... face. and body type. and performance style. that i really like ok #im simply drawn to him in this movie #he makes Winslow SO cute and SO nerdy in this wonderfully silly way but also SO dramatic too im in awe #I LOVE CHARACTERS WHO ARE UNIQUE AND CRAZY AND HAVE TOO MUCH PASSION AND CANT CONTAIN THEMSELVES #bc thats me i guess :)#also usually i like characters id gladly fight on the floor - currently chop top and nubbins #or characters that are so cute and i want to love them with all my heart - currently bubba #but Winslow is both and neither? i would be like aw cute but also steal his glasses and bully him and make him frustrated but then apologiz #and then touch his long slender pianist hands and say he's so talented and he might brush it off and accept it and it'd be all good #.... ok weirdly a lot of detail there sorry im. getting too into this hypothetical wtf (it happens) but um #i guess when it comes to the Phantom tho id just want to watch him run around and gasp and screech. idk. hes so weird and i love his drama #i want everyone to know i love my husband so much ik it's weird im gushing over another fictional man and mentioning him at the same time #but like it's not the same. i hope u all understand. my love for my husband is real and tangible. characters are.... different #just let me fantasize about the silly people i see in movies and stuff and compartmentalize it in my heart and brain ok. i cant help it #i always wonder how the fuck people see me when it comes to that but also if it bothers u i hope u get the difference like actually??? idk #not tagging #my life

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babydollmarauders · 25 days

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PHASES — LUKE HUGHES

luke hughes x fem!reader

summary: in which luke is pining for the girl he knows he’s destined to be with

notes: 4.3k words. this is a new style of writing for me and i truthfully don’t know about it but it felt right for this fic.

Luke Hughes knows a lot of things.

he knows hockey. he knows history. and he knows that in this moment, drunk on cheap beer and lip locked with the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, she and he are destined to be together.

but life and love are never simple. drunken hookups between best friends don’t just automatically make them a couple. and no matter how badly he wants to scream that she should be with him, he knows he has to wait it out; give her time to come to the same realization that he did two years ago.

her back digs into the armrest of the battered couch, her legs draped across Luke’s own as his fingertips grip her upper thigh. their faces are drawn together, her hands tangled beautifully in his curls, pulling him closer toward her vodka soaked lips.

“Lukey,” his name rolls off her tongue like a whispered prayer, causing a singular beat to skip in his heart.

“what do you need, doll?”

“you.”

and her singular word is the driving force that brings Luke to his feet, her hand laced with his as he leads her to his bedroom. the people in his apartment cast away from his mind, only one person occupying that space.

her.

surely, Jack can handle the party that he threw, no one would miss Luke.

and that thought is what leads them to his room, their bodies pressed together in mere minutes. the next few hours spent tangled between cotton sheets. his feverish touch making her body shake, and her soft sounds causing an intense sensation of need within him.

hot breath mingles, their lips rarely straying from each others. sweat coated skin sticking together as they christen his bed for the umpteenth time. neither mind clear, they find solace and pleasure with her legs wrapped around his waist and his sloppy thrusts bringing them to the highest points.

and when they call it a night, Luke’s hand slamming the car door shut after she falls into the backseat of an uber, he falls back into the same spot he started the night.

waiting for fate to bring her home to him for the final time.

***

the restaurant feels suffocating, her dress itchy, causing her to wiggle uncomfortably in her chair.

her date doesn’t even seem to notice, rambling on once more about how cool it is that she works for the New Jersey Devils.

“i mean, you must get to be around the players all the time, right? how did you even get that job?” what was this one’s name? Carter? Carson? it started with a C, right?

“i went to University of Michigan. graduated a year early with a degree in sport management, and after working with the hockey team there, i was able to secure a spot working for the Devils.” she smiles, a weak timid thing that barely even reaches her cheeks, “but yeah, i do spend a lot of time around the players. kinda my job to get content of them, ya know?”

maybe-Carter chuckles, nodding his head, “so are you like, friends with any of them?”

‘oh, here we go’ she thinks.

“i went to school with Luke Hughes, he’s kind of my best friend.” it was an instinct really, an involuntary reaction; for a smile to creep across her lips when she talks about Luke, “but i can’t really say much about him or the guys, they’re people too and they deserve their privacy.”

“right, totally respect that,” he nods, his lips falling into a tight line, and she can’t help but notice that they aren’t as pillowy as Luke’s.

his lips don’t nearly look as comforting to kiss. and his curls; they don’t… curl the way Luke’s do. rather he has a head of tighter curls, unlike Luke’s unruly mess of loose curls and waves mingling together. his eyes aren’t the right color either, erring on the side of a blue closer to Jack’s; which makes a shiver run down her spine, discomfort settling within her.

“are you cold?” he asks, catching sight of the goosebumps that spread across her skin. he huffs a condescendingly toned laugh before continuing, “maybe you should’ve brought a jacket, restaurants run cold.”

that was where she drew the line. with his obnoxious attitude combined with his interest, which only peaked when discussing her job, y/n was surprised she lasted as long as she did.

and if the fact that he wasn’t similar enough to her best friend played a small part in her leaving? well, could she really be blamed?

after all, it was Luke’s fault.

it was Luke who made the first move his freshman year of college, both of them tipsy on drinks made by Dylan and his heavy hand with rum. it was Luke who made the sophomore girl fall for him two years ago. it was Luke who drunkenly tells her he loves her as he buries himself inside of her, knowing exactly what to do to tip her over the edge. and it was Luke who has her going on at least five dates a month, trying to force the Devils rookie out of her heart.

or at least, she blames it on Luke; because she couldn’t allow herself to admit that she fell in love with him of her own accord. she can’t allow herself to confess how quickly their drunken hookups turned into something more for her. and she certainly can’t dwell on the fact that she hasn’t put a stop to them. how could she? those are the only moments that she can let herself believe, even for a moment, that she could be his.

because despite how badly she wanted it, she could never be Luke’s. not in the way she wants to be. no matter how hard she tries, she can never find the words to express how much he means to her. how much she loves him.

Luke laid on the couch, the springs digging into his back uncomfortably.

“dude, we really need a new couch.” he huffs, “and why am i laying like this? i don’t think people actually lay down in therapy outside of tv shows.”

“shut up, i’m taking notes.” Luke’s eyes drift to his older brother, who occupies the space of the living room chair.

“notes on what? i haven’t even said anything!”

“you don’t need to. i’ve listened to you bitch and moan about y/n for two years, i’m writing what i can remember.” Jack explains, his brows furrowed in focus as his pen scribbles messily across the notepad on his lap.

“why did i let you talk me into this?” Luke rolls his eyes at his brothers antics.

“because you’re pussy-whipped and you’re playing like shit.” Jack looks up from the notepad, straightening his posture and settling his focus on Luke.

“is that a medical diagnosis?” Luke jokes, his brow raising as he chuckles.

“no, that’s brotherly criticism. you get that for free, courtesy of the nine months we each spent in mom’s womb.” Luke cringes at his brothers words, shaking his head.

“don’t talk about mom’s womb.”

“just speak, dude. what’s going on in that curly head of yours?”

Luke sighs, his eyes drifting towards the ceiling. his hands fiddle with the cellphone that lays on his stomach, impatiently waiting for the text that he knows will come through.

it’s 10pm on an off day, he knows she’s got a date tonight. he also knows how her date will end; soon enough she’ll be texting him a long paragraph about how men suck and asking him to remind her why she can’t become a nun.

“well, i told you, i know she and i are meant to be together. i can feel it.” Luke starts, quickly cut off by the familiar grating voice he’s known his entire life.

“yeah, yeah, you’re a simp. move on.”

“has anyone ever told you that you’d make a horrible therapist?” Luke questions, head turning once more toward his brother.

“i can’t say anyone has, no.”

“yeah? well then, i’ll be the first.” he glares, “stick to hockey.”

“just keep talking, Lukey.”

“i think it’s getting harder to wait for her.” Luke confesses, and it feels like a small weight has been lifted off his chest; progress.

“so you wanna move on?” Jack asks, his pen scrawling along the paper again.

“no!” Luke huffs, sitting up on the couch to turn towards his brother, who quickly strikes out whatever he just wrote down, “i’m just saying that- that this whole waiting game is fucking with my head. Phil said i had to wait it out. he told me not to pressure her. practice my patience and let her come to the realization on her own.

“but, what if it goes on too long? she’s always going on dates, what if she meets someone else? what if it takes her ten years to realize what i realized like a month after we met?! what if she gets married before she realizes?”

“too many ‘what if’s’, dude. you’re hurting my brain.” Jack groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Luke, already in an emotional spiral, rolls his eyes, “what brain?”

“hey! i’m trying to help you here! don’t insult me!” Jack stands up, notepad falling to the floor and his hands drawing to his hips as he glares at the rookie defenseman.

“well you’re not much help.”

“you want my advice? either keep waiting and playing like shit and making easily avoidable mistakes, or say fuck it to your friends advice and tell her how you feel.”

“i’m going to bed.” Luke grumbles, pushing past the shorter man to go to his room.

“don’t forget, no morning skate tomorrow!” Jack calls out as Luke’s door clicks shut.

as Luke strips down to his boxers, his phone lights up on his bed, vibrating amongst the cotton sheets. and as he sees her name flashing on the screen, butterflies flutter in his core, making him swallow harshly in attempt to stop them.

he doesn’t even get a word out after accepting the call, her voice filtering through the speaker, “men suck.”

“oh yeah?” Luke can’t help but laugh at the repetitive cycle, “tell me more. how do we suck?”

“you just do, okay?” her tone is biting before she takes a sobering breath, “all he wanted to talk about was the team. i could practically see the walls shut down around him once i told him i couldn’t dish out the hot goss on players.”

“i’m sorry, y/n.” he’s not sorry. not even a little.

“remind me why i can’t be a nun?” her voice is distant as she takes the phone away from her ear so that she can unlock her apartment door.

“no tiktok and no sex.” Luke echoes for what feels like the hundredth time.

“right.” she kicks off her shoes, bumping the door shut behind her as her cat darts around between her legs, rubbing against her nylon tights, “you ready for the game tomorrow?”

“yeah.” no.

“good. i’m gonna go eat my weight in ice cream and scroll tiktok. goodnight, Lukey. thanks for the reminder and for listening to me rant.”

“any time. goodnight.”

as Luke lays in bed, he falls asleep with Jack’s advice echoing in his head.

keep waiting and playing like shit and making easily avoidable mistakes, or say fuck it to your friends advice and tell her how you feel.

meanwhile, y/n slumps on her sofa, a pint of ben & jerry’s in her hand as she looks down at the little ball of black fur that’s taken up residence by her feet.

“have you ever been in love, Sir Nightingale?”

the cat blinks back at her, patiently waiting for her attention. which comes in the form of her fingernails scratching lazily under his chin.

“i have.” she continues the one sided conversation, “it fucking sucks. never fall in love.”

***

the game was an absolute shit show.

Luke had taken a shoddy penalty in the first period; for delay of game, out of all things. which lead to a power play goal by the opposing team and leaving the Devils down by two.

it was only about five minutes later that Luke got an assist on a goal of Jack’s, but ultimately, the game still ended six to two, not in the Devils favor. not only did the team get yelled at for their lack of adequate effort, but Luke was singled out for at least two turned over pucks, which lead to opposing team goals.

and to make a bad night even worse, when all was said and done and Luke was finally showered and ready to just go home and wallow in the loss, he left the locker room to find y/n chatting with one of the equipment managers, Ben.

her hair twirled around her finger as she laughed at something Ben said, a red flush on her cheeks. Luke felt deflated, to say the least.

it was always someone else.

never him. never Luke.

he felt overlooked, and perhaps even unnoticed. it was like she never even saw him as an option, only ever the object of her desires when they were both tipsy and horny and already together.

and yet the feeling was still there. settled low within his gut, he still knew; he’s the one for her. he knows. he’s fairly certain that deep down, she knows it too.

is it his age? it’s only a year’s difference, surely it doesn’t matter, right? it was something else. it had to be, but he truly didn’t know what.

“y/n.” his voice carries through the hallway, settling in her ears and catching her attention.

turning towards him with wide doe eyes and parted lips, she smiles, “hey!”

“am i still giving you a ride home?” Luke’s expression is stony, giving nothing of his feelings away. though, he can’t help the way his eyes gravitate to the man behind her, Luke’s blank stare making the man cower just slightly.

and Luke almost felt proud of that. almost.

“actually, i think Ben and i are gonna go for some drinks. i’ll catch up with you tomorrow, yeah?”

his shoulders slump, his posture crumpling the same way his heart did in his chest.

“yeah, see you tomorrow.”

Luke barely gets two steps closer to the arena exit before her voice calls out, stopping him in his tracks. her heels click against the floor as fast as she could move, before she pops up in his vision.

“you played good. a few mistakes are normal, it’s your first full season, the most games you’ve ever played,” her voice is gentle, her eyes peering up at him softly through her wispy lashes, “i’m proud of you. don’t be too hard on yourself, alright?”

her arms wrap around his torso before he can even respond, her face buried in the chest of his suit. and before his heart can reach a normal pace again, before he can wrap his arms around her in return, she’s pulling away.

with a wave of her hand and a small but awe-strikingly beautiful smile playing upon her lips, she’s walking away. back to Ben, who waits for her by the arena exit now.

and once more, Jack’s voice is back inside Luke’s head. driving him absolutely insane as he watches the love of his life walk out of the building, giggling at something another man said.

keep waiting and playing like shit and making easily avoidable mistakes, or say fuck it to your friends advice and tell her how you feel.

tell her how you feel.

“tell her how you feel.” Luke wakes with a startle, his head knocking against his brother’s, who was leaning over him.

Jack curses, hissing in pain as he holds a hand his forehead.

“what the fuck are you doing in my room?” Luke groans, voice groggy as he takes in his surroundings.

“i got up to take a piss and i could hear your phone blowing up all the way from the bathroom,” Jack explains, “shit, you have a bony ass head.”

“it’s called a skull. i know yours doesn’t house anything inside of it, but even i assumed you’d know what it is.”

Jack huffs, rolling his eyes. “ya know what? just for that, i take back my advice. fuck off and die alone, what do i care?”

“why were you giving me advice at-” Luke slides his phone off his nightstand, checking the time, “two in the morning?”

“she’s blowing up your phone.” Jack scowls, “something something men suck something something maybe being a nun is worth the no tiktok?”

Luke feels an odd sense of relief as he looks at his recent texts, finding exactly what Jack had described.

well, without the ‘something something’s.

“pretty sure you were saying her name in your sleep too,” Jack smirks, backing away towards the bedroom door, “tell her how you feel, dickhead. put you both out of your misery so i can get some sleep and not listen to your incessant whining.”

with that, Jack leaves, the wooden door clicking shut in its frame behind him.

reading through the texts, Luke gathers that she and Ben didn’t get very far into the night together, seeing as her messages were still legible, something drunk her could never accomplish.

the thought brings him an unnecessary amount of joy. but then he’s hit with an overwhelming sense of annoyance, remembering he’ll have to go through this process all over again soon.

truthfully, he doesn’t know how much more he can take. he’s not giving up on her, on the contrary, maybe Jack is right. maybe Phil couldn’t give advice for all women and maybe Luke should just stop waiting.

she wasn’t coming to a realization quick enough and honestly, Luke is fucking tired. tired of drunken hookups. tired of listening to her rant about failed dates and sucky guys. tired of being overlooked as an option. tired of his feelings going unnoticed.

the dial tone was ringing in his ear before Luke even realized that he had made a decision, like his hands were working on autopilot. like his heart knew what he would decide before his brain did.

“hey! did i wake you?” her words weren’t slurred, Luke noted. that’s good, she doesn’t even sound tipsy. she’s in a sound state of mind for his confession.

“no,” he shook his head, despite knowing she could see him, “well, yes but no? you didn’t wake me up but Jack did, he could hear my phone buzzing.”

“oh shit, i’m sorry! we can talk tomorrow if you wanna go back to sleep, i’m just about to-”

“i love you,” immediately, Luke is regretting this decision; the silence on the other end of the phone making him bite his lip in anxiety.

“what?” her voice cracks as she giggles, “Luke, are you drunk? did you drink before you went to bed?”

“no,” he groans out, his head dropping back in frustration, “i swear, i haven’t touched any alcohol tonight. just listen to me.”

“i’m always listening to you, Lukey.” her eyes widen as she sits on the edge of her plush bed, “i just don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“i love you,” he repeats, rolling his shoulders in attempt to psych himself back up before he takes a deep breath.

“i’m in love with you. i have been since freshman year. i think that somewhere deep down, you know just as much as i do, that you’re meant to be mine. and i’ve waited two years for you to realize it. i’ve been patient, i’ve held back, i’ve waited on the sidelines while you go out on dates and i’ve listened to you rant about men. and that’s no problem; when i’m done, if you decide you’re still not ready, i’ll continue to wait for you. because even if you’re not mine, i’m yours, y/n. but, i need to get this off my chest and i need you to know that i’m in love with you. my life isn’t complete without yours. and when you’re ready, i’ll be here waiting for you. i’ll always be here. when you’re ready for the drunk hookups to turn into sober love, i’m gonna be right here. because i think that’s our fate. i think that we were destined to find each other and i think we were meant to have this storyline in our love story, and i know that one day you’ll realize it too. you can tell me i’m insane, you can tell me you don’t feel the same, you can even tell me to fuck off, if that’s what you wanna do. i’ll back off, i won’t say another word, but i’ll still be waiting.”

y/n is silent, her hands shaking as she breathes through the tears that roll down her cheeks. in return, Luke is quiet too, patiently waiting for her to digest everything he just confessed. every built up feeling that he just let slip out of him.

“i love you too.” it feels like all the weight she’s been shouldering has been listed off of her with the utterance of those four simple words.

“you do?” he feels like he can’t breathe, like he’s just been knocked against the boards and his lungs forgot how to take in oxygen.

“yes. Luke, why do you think i go on those dates? have you not noticed that almost every guy i go out with resembles you? i didn’t know if you felt the same way, i didn’t know how to tell you how i felt without risking our entire friendship going up in flames. Luke, i’m so fucking in love with you and it hurt. for two years, i’ve reveled in our drunken moments because i thought that was all i’d ever get. i dreaded the day that you would meet someone and tell me it has to stop. i fell for you so hard and it was so scary and i just- i had to try and move on. i had to try and meet someone before ultimately, you did. because i knew that if you told me you met someone, and i was still in love with you? i would never recover from that, Luke. i wouldn’t. and now you’re saying this and i, god i feel so fucking stupidly in love with you. you don’t have to wait anymore, because i realized i love you a long time ago.”

Luke pushes out of his bed, any interest in sleep lost to him. pulling on a hoodie and an abandoned pair of sweatpants from his bedroom floor, he doesn’t even bother telling Jack that he’s leaving.

“god, i need to kiss you.” he slips on his nike slides, his fingers nimbly plucking his keys off the hook by the front door, and as quickly as he could manage, he was out of there.

“you can kiss me tomorrow, Lukey.” she smiles, finally rising from her bed to finish her nightly routine.

that is, until she hears a key turn in her front door. her eyebrows pull together as she wonders out of her room, greeted by sight of a disheveled Luke in her apartment doorway, who looks like he just ran down the stairs to get there.

hanging up the phone, she grins back at the tall boy.

“or i can kiss you now.” a playful smirk pulls at the corner of his lips as he taking wide glides over to her.

his hands find her cheeks, his thumbs wiping gently over the supple, tear stained skin. the apartment is silent, their heartbeats racing as she gazes up at his beautiful eyes.

“or you can kiss me now.” she echoes, her words mumbled and low.

that’s the final straw, the confirmation Luke desperately needed, and finally, he allows his head to dip down. her lips were warm and soft, tasting faintly of mint ice cream, and warmth spreads across his body, starting at his chest and almost blossoming across his body. Luke feels at home.

her hands desperately cling to his hoodie, as though he’ll disappear if she lets go, and his slide back to cup the nape of her neck. she has no desire to pull away, but her lungs spread with fire until she’s forced apart by the need to breathe.

“i love you.” she whispers, eyes closed as she rests her forehead against his own, teeth digging into her bottom lip as she bites back a lovelorn smile.

“i love you, sweet girl.”

“please don’t go back home. spend the night?” she finally opens her eyes, her head tipping back as he straightens up.

a pink hue glows upon his cheeks, and she can’t resist letting the backs of her fingers gently graze over the heated skin.

“not going anywhere, baby. staying right here.” his lips brush against her forehead, leaving a fleeting kiss in their wake and making her heartbeat flutter within her rib cage.

it feels right, the way they go about a new bed time routine. luke’s arms wrapped around her waist as she brushes her teeth, his eyes boring into her reflection. her head on his chest as they fall asleep, his alarm on for them to wake up for morning skate, together.

and if they were holding hands when they walked into the rink, if they were a cheesy couple who kissed before he entered the locker room, if his smile was a bit too wide in the tiktok she filmed for the Devils socials, if she chose the question ‘do you believe in fate?’ solely because of him, could they really be blamed?

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes fic #luke hughes blurb #nj devils #nhl fic #nhl imagine #faithlynn’s writings <3

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bweirdart · 2 months

Text

#mARTch 2024

text version (with more info!) under the readmore! please check it out if you're confused about anything <3

F.A.Q

do i have to draw every day? no!!!! there are skippable days built into the event, please use them whenever you need them! i really don't want anyone getting a wrist injury!

can you share my art? yep! i try to share entries to @bweirdevents daily during the event!! the tags can get busy tho so i might miss some posts OTL sorry

what are the tags? #mARTch is the main tag, but this year you might find posts in #mARTch2024 too!

wait, i'm confused about a prompt... full breakdown of all the prompts below ↓ with helpful hints if you're stuck!

_____

INTRO WEEK

this week is all about your artistic identity ... technically, you don't have to draw anything new this week if you have some art that already fits. the starter days are:

1 ⭐ self portrait who are you? it doesn't have to be you IRL .. if you feel more comfortable drawing a fursona or mascot, that's fine too! if you don't wanna draw, you can also just share old self portraits today and talk about why you drew yourself that way!

2 🤍 inspirations see how this day doesn't have a star? that means it's optional and you don't have to do it at all! but if you really wanna- tell us all about what inspires you to create art! this could be anything from the people that inspire you, the shows you like, the pins on your big messy pinterest board, or concepts that you're drawn to! you can draw something about it, talk about it, or just post your inspirations! anything is fine

3 ⭐ fav thing to draw what do you like drawing most? backgrounds? animals? one specific animal? bust of your oc facing left? cars? the same anime boy over and over and over? no judgement!! show us :)

_____

STUDY WEEK

this is the week we actually start drawing from reference! polished art is not required at all, quick sketch studies are fine! please don't burn yourself out

4 🤍 plant

5 🤍 body

6 ⭐ animal

7 🤍 object

8 🤍 food

9 🤍 face

10 ⭐ hand

these ones are pretty self explanatory! you can do them as realistic studies, or adapt them into your own art style, it's all fine! you can reference from your own photos or from resources on the web.. have fun!

_____

COLOUR WEEK

this is the week for playing with palettes and working on your colour theory skills! if you're really struggling with these ones, don't worry about drawing scenes or characters, you can just have fun splashing colours around on an abstract canvas!

11 🤍 RGB a set or primary colours typically used in digital/screen art - red, green and blue!

12 🤍 CMYK a set of primary colours typically used in traditional/print art - cyan, magenta, yellow ... and key (black!)

for both of these days ↑ you can add in black and white. and feel free to combine the two days into one, if you're struggling with a three-colour palette! use all six!

13 ⭐ WARM COLOURS the warm side of the colour wheel, reds oranges and yellows!

14 🤍 MONOCHROME monochrome doesn't mean black and white ... it means one colour! that can be any colour at all- shades of red, shades of purple, shades of green .. or yeah, grey if you really want!

15 🤍 COMPLIMENTARY complimentary colours are the ones opposite each other on the colour wheel! they're kinda married

16 🤍 YOUR FAV COLOURS pick any palette that works for you! where's your comfort zone? what looks nice to you? what colour combos do you always go back to?

17 ⭐ COOL COLOURS the cool side of the colour wheel, purples, blues and greens!

_____

CREATIVITY WEEK

this week is all about vibes! try to create something that matches the mood of the prompt .. they're vague on purpose! don't overthink it, just draw from the heart!

18 🤍 SMALL you could draw something that's really small, like an ant .. or draw on a canvas that's really small .. or use a really small brush .. get creative with it!

19 🤍 DANGER try to capture the adrenaline .. the rush .. the fear that you associate with the word danger!

20 ⭐ SOFT soft colours, soft textures, soft vibes ... whatever makes you comfy!

21 🤍 MIDNIGHT darkness and secrecy .. spooky witchy vibes .. the tranquility of a forest at night .. the fun of a late-night party .. there's lots of ways you can take this!

22 🤍 POWER what does this word make you think about? superpowers? control and oppression? literal electrical power? something else?

23 🤍 CHILL chill as in calm? or chill as in cold? who knows .. it's up to YOU!

24 ⭐ LOUD try to draw something that feels LOUD! BRASH! IN YOUR FACE! how can you convey sound through art?

_____

FUN + GAMES WEEK

this week is just for enjoying yourself! take it easy and have fun! also .. another reminder! there are skippable prompts! if you're tired and struggling to get to the finish line, please don't hesitate to skip a day!!! or multiple days!! as many as you need!!!

25 🤍 TRY A NEW ART STYLE copy the art style of a show you like, ask a friend if you can try their style, draw the eyes a new way, develop a totally new style on the spot... whatever you want!

26 🤍 DRAW WITH YOUR NON-DOMINANT HAND righties, draw with your left! lefties, draw with your right! ambidextrous nation ... our time to show off!

27 ⭐ DRAW WITH YOUR EYES CLOSED don't peek! try to draw something without looking! if you really want, you can colour it with your eyes open after you draw the lines/sketch with your eyes closed... but please try not to cheat with the actual drawing part!

28 🤍 RE-DRAW SOMETHING OLD find some old artwork you like, or something you feel like you can do better on now, and give it another go!

29 🤍 RE-DRAW A MEME find a silly picture on the internet to redraw .. do you have any in-jokes with your besties?

30 🤍 DRAW A GIFT FOR A FRIEND create something for someone you love <3

31 ⭐ FREE CHOICE final day! you can draw anything you want today! show off your skills! draw something you've been meaning to draw! whatever!

_____

please refrain from reblogging this post after march ends - next year's prompts will be different, thank you! if you have any additional questions, don't hesitate to shoot me an ask!

#🎨#mARTch #mARTch2024 #events #art meme #art prompt #art prompts #art challenge #drawing prompt #drawing prompts #drawing challenge #march

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headkiss · 1 year

Text

give you the moon

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: had you known getting your first tattoo would end up with you being in love with eddie munson, you might have gotten it a lot sooner.

word count: 17.8k

warnings: smut, probably inaccurate descriptions of tattooing processes (i tried my best!), strangers to friends to lovers, fluff

a/n: this one took forever but it’s finally done!!!! i’m sorry for the wait but hopefully u guys like it enough to forgive me :D

༄

You’ve always wanted a tattoo, and you figured now was as good a time as ever. Having just moved to Indianapolis, all by yourself, one change could lead to another.

New city, new apartment, new tattoo.

It may be irresponsible of you, but you settled for the first shop you found, the one closest to where you lived. A short walk away, harder to back out of. You knew you wouldn’t regret getting it, you just had to force yourself to sit through it, to commit.

The wind whips at your cheeks as you make your way to your consultation. You pull your sleeves over your hands and hope that it’ll be warm enough.

Once you’ve made it, the bell above the door rings to signify your entrance. A girl with brown curly hair sits at the front desk, a warm smile on her face. The place has dark floors, walls covered with different sketches that distract you for a moment.

“Hi! How can I help you?” The girl says, drawing your attention back to her. You walk the few steps up to the front desk.

“Hi, um, I’m here for a consultation,” you give her your name and the time of the appointment. “With Eddie.”

She shuffles about for a few seconds before finding what she was looking for, “yep, perfect. I’ll let him know you’re here. I’m Nancy, by the way.”

“Thanks, Nancy.”

She goes to the saloon type doors next to the desk, you watch them swing back and forth. You’re eventually drawn back to the art on the walls, eyes scanning the different styles and images. Your hands fidget with the ends of your sleeves.

A picture of the staff steals your attention next, Nancy standing next to a girl with shorter hair, their hands interlocked. Then, there’s a boy with brown hair and a kind smile. The one who really keeps you looking is the boy with long dark hair, his tattoos the most prominent.

A second later, that same boy is walking through the doors and calling your name.

“Oh, hi. That’s me,” you reply. Then wince at your awkwardness.

“Hi, I’m Eddie,” he gives you a close-mouthed smile, barely there. He’s even prettier in person than he is in that photo. “Follow me.”

He seems distant, sort of cold and you’re not quite sure what to do with it. Your nerves pick up even more.

He ushers you through the saloon doors, then through a room with three tattoo beds that’s filled with the buzzing of the machines and the other people from the picture and their clients. You end up in an office type room, certificates hang on the wall behind the desk.

Eddie takes a seat behind the desk that’s presumably his, papers scattered about and a cup overflowing with pens and pencils sitting atop of it. You stand by the door, shifting on your feet.

“You can have a seat,” he offers, gesturing to the chair facing him. He waits until you’re settled to continue. “So, is this your first tattoo?”

“Yes,” you feel nervous and you’re not sure if it’s the prospect of committing to the tattoo or if it’s the way Eddie’s gaze doesn’t move away from you.

“Well, I’m honored to be your first,” he winks, your heart stumbling at the innuendo. “So, what are we thinking?”

“The moon, on the back of my shoulder,” you pause, but he nods for you to keep going, to give more detail. “I wanted it to be a gibbous moon, almost full but not quite.”

“Alright. Got an idea for size?”

“Uh, kinda small. I think?” You huff, frustrated with your lack of an answer, “sorry I’m not so prepared.”

You stuff your hands under your thighs so that they’ll stop twisting in your lap. You cross your ankles and look down, slightly embarrassed at the way you’re acting in front of him. You were meant to grow in the city, to be better, but so far, not much has changed.

You don’t have friends, your job is slow, and you’re terrible with new people.

“‘S fine,” you think he’s being reassuring. “How’s this sound: we can try some circle stencils on for size now, then we’ll know for your appointment.”

“Okay. Thank you, Eddie.”

“‘Course. I’ll be right back.”

His exit gives you a couple of minutes to try and sort yourself out, to calm down. You want to be able to do this without the stumbles or hiccups that you’re so used to. You blow out a breath and wait for him to come back.

The way he carries himself confuses you, his almost detached nature making you overthink way too much. Although, he’s not being cruel or unkind, he’s just… you’re not sure if there’s a word to describe it.

He comes back with a couple of stencils, some sort of solution, a disposable razor, and paper towels.

“You’re gonna have to take your sweater off,” he says, setting everything down on the desk. When you don’t move to do so right away, he stares at you, waiting.

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

You slip off your sweater, your tank top underneath riding up ever so slightly with the movement. You pull it back down and set your discarded sweater on the chair behind you.

“Which shoulder?” He asks, putting on a pair of medical gloves and grabbing the razor.

“Here,” you slip the straps of both your shirt and your bra off the shoulder you choose, turning in the seat to face away from him so he’s able to do what he needs to.

He brushes your hair towards the front of your shoulder, clearing the spot he needs. He cleans off the area, then shaves it to make sure the stencil will stick, all in silence. He’s quick to apply it, his hands gentle and his breath hitting your skin in a way that has you shifting.

“Don’t move,” he chides quietly.

“Sorry.”

He doesn’t say anything more until he’s done, “okay. Have a look.”

There’s a mirror on one of the walls, and you walk over to get a good look at the size of the circle. You know it’s only the first one, but you think it’s perfect. It looks right and you’re excited to see it when it’s actually the design you want.

“I want this size,” you say, turning to face him.

“Are you sure? It’s only the first one.”

“I know, but it’s good. I like it.”

“I don’t want you changing your mind, okay?”

“I won’t! I’m sure, promise.”

He sighs, then wipes the stencil away and takes off the gloves with a snap. He takes his seat again as you put your sweater back on, goosebumps prickling your skin.

“When did you wanna book it for?” He asks.

“Whenever you’re free is fine, I’m not picky.” You don’t have anywhere else to be, really.

“You’re not the best at answering questions, huh?”

You think he’s trying to make a joke but all you manage to say is, “no, sorry.”

“You apologize a lot. You don’t have to,” he grabs something that looks like a planner then says, “I have a spot next week, if that works.”

Eddie tells you the specific day and time, and you tell him that it works. He hands you some papers to sign and read and bring back with you for next time. “Nancy will sort out payment and stuff at the desk. That’s it for today.”

“Okay. Thank you so much,” you make your way back to the front quickly, eager to go home and try and forget the entire interaction. He certainly wasn’t what you were expecting, and you didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing. He was quiet, reserved, and hard to read, but he was good, you knew from the drawings in his office. He was also intriguing; a puzzle you wanted to solve.

You sort out everything with Nancy, who makes you feel a ton better about your consultation. “You look far too worried,” she says.

“I just don’t think he likes me very much.”

“No, trust me, that’s just Eddie. He’ll warm up to you, I’m sure.”

“I hope so. Anyway, thanks, Nancy.”

“See you,” she says as you walk out the door.

That night, you cuddle up and fall asleep thinking about Eddie and his demeanor, his warm hands on your skin.

He couldn’t get you out of his head, and that rarely happened to Eddie. He was used to meaningless things and he can’t remember the last time he felt anything for someone.

Not that he felt anything for you. You’d only met once.

Eddie spent the night after your consultation drawing way too many moons in his sketchbook, staining his hands with ink and pencil.

It’s two days later when you hear from Eddie again.

Your phone rings just as you’re about to shower before bed, the sun long gone though the city stays bright with lights. You hug your robe tighter around yourself and walk to where the phone hangs on the wall.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” an utterance of your name, a tone you recognize. “It’s Eddie… from Corroded Coffin Tattoos.”

“Of course! Hi, Eddie. Was there something wrong?”

“Oh, no. No,” he pauses, you hear him shuffling around on the other line. “I had a cancellation tomorrow and thought you might want the spot?”

You hate that the fact that he thought of you makes your stomach whirl. Of course, he could’ve called countless clients before you, but you like the idea that he dialed your number first better. You twist the phone cord in your fingers.

“That would be great. Thank you so much for thinking of me.”

If only you knew, he thinks. If only you knew how much he really did think of you—it was almost infuriating. How one person could have such an effect on him when he really doesn’t know them at all. He knows that you’re pretty, and you say ‘sorry’ far too much, and you smell really good, that’s all.

“Yeah. I’ll see you then.”

“Okay, see you-”

He hangs up before you can finish. You stare at the phone for a second after putting it back, wondering if that whole exchange truly happened, if you just dreamt up the whole thing. You pinch yourself until it hurts. You’re definitely awake.

You replay the conversation over and over, wondering why he hung up so abruptly, worrying about how you’re going to act tomorrow.

Eddie called you from his office, even though it was well past closing for the shop. He really needs to get himself together. He can’t be thinking so much about his client. About anyone, really. He can’t.

His head is resting in his arms when the door to his office opens. There’s only one person that never knocks and that’s Steve. He looks up and sees him leaning against the doorframe.

“Why are you still here, Steve?”

“Why are you still here?” He retorts.

“Got some stuff to do,” is all Eddie says.

“Your mood doesn’t have anything to do with the girl you just talked to on the phone, does it?”

Of all the people he could have been friends with, Steve was the most unlikely for Eddie, and yet here they are. Coworkers, and close friends. It’s almost annoying how quickly he can tell what exactly the issue is.

“I dunno. She won’t get out of my head,” Eddie shrugs, glancing down at the sketchbook he has opened on his desk, the one filled with drawings of your tattoo. “It’s annoying.”

“That’s a lot of moons, man,” Steve says as he walks closer.

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying. Maybe this is a good thing. I haven’t seen you with a girlfriend, like, ever.”

“Who said anything about a girlfriend?”

No, if anything, Eddie’s eager to get your appointment over with, to get you out of his head for good.

“Yeah, okay. Can't wait to say ‘I told you so.’ You know it won’t hurt to open up a little, man.”

Steve means well, Eddie knows he does, but the thing is it does hurt him. Or, it used to. He was used to being judged, someone the town saw as a character rather than a human. The best thing he ever did was move away, but that doesn’t mean he left the hurt behind, too.

You show up about fifteen minutes early for the appointment. You gave yourself far too much time, you think, because now you just have to sit and wait and the anticipation is making you more nervous the longer it goes.

The front desk was being manned by a different person today, “hi! I’m Robin, how are you?”

She talks quickly and with enthusiasm, like every word is exciting and important. You like her already.

“Hi, I’m good, thanks. I have an appointment with Eddie,” she nods in confirmation, looking down at the schedule in front of her. “I’m a little early though so… no rush.”

“Oh, it’s no problem, gives us more time to sort out the paperwork and stuff. He’s just finishing up with someone else so it won’t be too long.” She smiles at you.

“Here, I have these from my consultation,” you hand her the pages Eddie had given you to sign. You chew at the inside of your cheek as she reads over them hoping you filled everything out correctly.

“That’s great! I’ll just go tell him you’re here,” she goes through the familiar saloon doors, the buzzing of tattoo guns and light conversations slipping through.

When she comes back she informs you that he’s only going to be a couple more minutes, and instead of telling you to go take a seat, she asks, “first tattoo?”

“Yeah, I’m nervous. Mostly excited,” you give her a small smile, one that makes hers widen.

“Don’t worry! I had to take like five breaks for my first one and now here I am.” It’s then that you finally notice the ink peeking from her long-sleeve shirt, at her wrists, and on one side of her neck. “Eddie’s great, and I’m sure you’ve got great pain tolerance—I can sense it.”

You laugh, she’s somehow managed to make you feel much better in the short time you’ve been talking to her. Eddie walks out, greeted by the sound of your laughter and he almost stops in his tracks. Almost.

“Robin, stop chatting up my clients,” he says.

“I’m just being friendly, Eddie! You should try it out,” she replies.

You can tell it’s in good nature, because he ruffles her hair as he passes and leaves it there. From what you’ve seen so far, the workers here are close; a tight-knit group of people and you admire that friendship, long for it.

“Follow me,” he says. It takes you a second to realize he’s talking to you because of your distraction, but when you look up you find him staring at you, waiting.

“Okay,” you trail behind him as he leads you to the bed furthest from the doors, the one tucked away in the back of the room.

“You eat and drink water before coming? I don’t want you passing out on me.”

“Yeah. Yes, I’m good.”

He looks at you like he’s unsure, but moves along anyway. Eddie’s only worried because you’re his client and he has to, no other reason. He can’t be worrying because he thinks you’re pretty and sweet and far too kind. There’s absolutely no way.

“So, I did a couple sketches,” a couple is an understatement. “Have a look and let me know which one you wanna go with.”

You take a look at the five he’s laid out, all as you asked. Gibbous moons, both waxing and waning, some shaded more than others, some simple outlines. The one that catches your eye is a happy medium, fine lines with dotting for shading. It’s beautiful, exactly what you envisioned.

“This one. It’s really good.”

He tips his head down, “thanks. I’ll go get my stuff and we’ll get started.”

He’s not gone for very long, though it’s enough time for you to watch one of the artists at work, the boy with the brown hair. You watched the way he moved the needle, only looking away when Eddie came back and grabbed your attention.

“Gonna do the stencil like before, so you’ll need to move your shirt,” he says, looking down at his station and getting everything ready.

“Would it be easier if I just, uh, take it off?”

That makes his hands hover, paused in his task. He tries to shake it off; he’s seen a ton of people shirtless at the job and he’s never been affected by that, so why should he be now?

“Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Okay,” you decide it must be easier without your shirt—less things in the way—so you take it off and try not to worry about it.

Eddie applies the stencil just as he did a couple days ago. Gentle, precise hands that you’ll feel the ghost of for hours after your appointment, you’re sure. His head bent close as he pushes the edges down so you can feel him breathing, catch his scent for a moment.

When he’s done, he holds up a wide handheld mirror for you to get a look at it without having to walk all the way to the mirror on the opposite side of the room.

Again, you’re impressed by his drawing, and seeing it on your skin makes you realize that you’ll carry a part of Eddie forever after this. His linework, his trace.

“So,” he prompts you to speak as your thoughts have taken you away, “what do you think?”

“It’s great. Really.”

“You’re sure that’s where you want it?”

He double checks every single detail. That you’ve picked the one you want, that it’s the right size, that you really want to do this. He does so until you’re laying on your stomach on the bed, positioned so he can work comfortably at your side.

“Okay, I’m gonna do a small line, just so you see how it feels,” he warns you, and you tense in anticipation. “Relax.”

“Sorry. ‘M just nervous.”

“You’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

He manages to ease you with very few words.

The sound of the tattoo gun sounds louder when it’s so close, more daunting, but you’re eager to get started only to get rid of the anticipation. He draws a short line after giving you a quiet warning of, “here we go.”

It’s not nearly as bad as you’d expected. A scratch, a small sting, but it’s manageable.

“You okay?” He checks.

“Yeah, it’s not that bad.”

“Told you you’d be fine,” he says so softly you almost miss it.

Your head is turned to the side where he sits, and you can see him in your peripheral vision as he works. His legs clad in dark, ripped denim, the tattoos peeking through. The sleeves of his shirt rolled up to show his forearms. You shut your eyes and try to stop staring.

He works quietly, though you can sometimes hear him humming along to whatever song is playing. You don’t try to make conversation because you don’t want to be a distraction.

It doesn’t take too long before he gets to the shading, telling you, “some people find this part a bit more painful. So you know.”

“Okay, thanks.”

He’s right, it is more painful and you find it harder to keep yourself occupied by looking around. You find it harder to ignore the feeling of the needle.

Eddie notices. He doesn’t know how, but he notices. Maybe it’s the way your eyes are squeezed shut at certain points, the hand of the arm furthest from him bunched in a fist. He decides he wants to ease the process for you in any way he can.

“So, why the moon?” He asks.

“Huh?”

“Why’d you choose the moon?”

“Oh, sorry,” you don’t see him shake his head at your unnecessary apology. “I’ve always loved it, how it has a cycle. The way it looks in the sky. Just, everything. Looking at it was a way of reminding myself I’m alive, kind of. ‘Cause I can still see it. I guess I chose this one to remind myself that even if it’s not whole now, it will be eventually.”

He wants to pick at your brain more, because he thinks it must be a beautiful place to be able to describe things the way you just did. You talk like it means a lot to you and the fact that you shared it with him so openly when you’ve been so quiet isn’t lost on him.

“That’s really…wow.”

“Sorry. I kinda rambled there.”

“No, no. I’ve just never looked at it that way.”

He asks you more questions after that, trying his best to keep your mind off of the needle and on the conversation. He asks how long you’ve been in the city, then, why you moved, and you give him honest answers for all of it.

Not long at all. Because I needed to get out, to be somewhere nobody knows me.

That made him think of Hawkins, of every person there who called him a freak, who looked at him like one. He needed to get out, too.

“Alright, you’re all done, just gotta wrap it up for you,” he says, putting the gun down and wiping over your skin one more time. “Do you wanna have a look first?”

“Please,” you nod.

He likes the way the word sounds coming out of your mouth—he gives himself a mental slap for that.

You sit up and he holds the mirror just as he did before. You can't help but gasp when you see it, exactly what you pictured. He did such a good job that you resist the urge to hug him for it.

“Eddie, it’s beautiful.”

So are you, he thinks.

“I’m glad you like it,” is what he says.

“I love it. Seriously, thank you.”

“It’s my job. Let me wrap it and then you’re good to go.”

He does, carefully and with the same gentle hands that have become far too familiar by now. When he’s done, he takes off his gloves with a snap, and hands you a pamphlet and some cleaning products to use at home.

“Thanks again, Eddie. You’re really good,” you say, putting your shirt back on.

“No problem,” he flashes you a small smile, one you’ll hold onto. “Um, here’s the card for the shop. You know, in case you need anything. Just ask for me, okay?”

“I will, thank you,” you take the card from him, your fingers brush his as you do. The name of the shop is written on it in bold, sharp letters: Corroded Coffin Tattoos. Underneath it, the phone number.

You’re led back through the saloon doors and met with both Robin and Nancy by the desk. They’re talking with wide smiles and rosy cheeks, their hands tangled loosely.

“I don’t pay you two to flirt,” Eddie says, retreating back where the two of you just came from.

Robin slips away, presumably done with her shift at the desk now that Nancy’s back. She gave you a kind goodbye, and makes sure that you promise if you ever want another tattoo to go back there.

“How was it?” Nancy asks you.

“Good! I’m really happy with it.”

“That’s what we like to hear! Eddie’s great. He gave me my first tattoo, too. Robin was mad for ages and then made sure she gave me the next one,” she grins. “Anyway, let’s get you taken care of.”

You pay for the tattoo, and then, you’re off.

It’s times like now that you wish you had someone to talk to, because you’re having way too many thoughts about your tattoo artist that you might never see again and you need to know if you’re reading into things too much. You need to know if his hands linger longer than they need to on other clients, if you imagined the way his eyes stayed on you, too.

You settle for overthinking on your walk home instead.

You didn’t think you’d end up using the card Eddie gave you. Not unless you were calling to book another tattoo, but here you were, leaning on the wall by your phone and dialing the number.

It was just a quick question, really, but you were still nervous. You’d only gotten the tattoo yesterday and already you were calling.

You’d realized when reading the aftercare instructions he gave you, that you didn’t have any unscented, gentle lotion like it called for, and you wanted to know if he had any suggestions for what works best. You tried going to the pharmacy, but the options were overwhelming.

You ended up buying something anyway because of how long you spent there. A useless magazine that was the closest thing to you when you noticed how some of the employees were looking at you. Some girl reading way too many lotion labels.

Yeah, definitely embarrassing, and definitely something you won’t let yourself live down.

The phone doesn’t ring for long before someone picks up, “Corroded Coffin Tattoos, Nancy speaking.”

“Hi Nancy,” you tell her your name.

“Hey! How can I help you?”

“Um, Eddie told me to call and ask for him if I had any questions,” you explain. “I was wondering if he’s available for a minute?”

“He did?” She sounds surprised.

“Um. Yeah.”

“Huh. Usually he makes one of us deal with calls instead. I’ll put you on hold and let him know, okay?”

“‘Kay. Thanks, Nancy.”

Desperately, you try not to overthink what she said. That he doesn’t usually get his clients to talk to him for things as minor as this. Why would he want you to, then? You don’t know why every little thing he does sends your mind into a whirlwind of ‘why’s and ‘what does this mean’s.

It’s maybe two minutes—silence filled by your thoughts—before the phone is picked up again.

“Hello?”

You can tell that it’s Eddie.

“Hi. Sorry to bother you but I just had a quick question for you.”

Eddie knows it’s you; he’s not expecting a call from anyone else. Not that he was expecting yours, it’s just that you’re the only client he’s even told to ask for him. He tries to cover that up by saying, “who’s this?”

“Oh, guess I should’ve said. Sorry,” you remind him of your name, as if he could forget it.

“Don’t be sorry. What’s your question?”

He’s quick to get to the point, and you can’t tell if it’s because he’s eager to help, or if it’s that he’s eager to get the conversation over with. Nancy’s words replay in your head. Usually he makes one of us deal with calls instead.

“I noticed that for aftercare, it says to use gentle lotion,” he hums along, urging you to continue. “I wasn’t sure what exactly that meant and I even went to the pharmacy but I didn’t know which one was good-”

“It’s okay,” he cuts you off. “I’ve got some here at the shop. Do you have time today to come pick it up?”

“Yeah! Yes, that’s great. Thanks so much, I promise I’ll get out of your hair after this.”

He doesn’t like the way that sits with him. He doesn’t want you out of his hair. He wants to see you again, he’s realized, and it’s almost too much for him to handle. The way he feels about you is brand new for him—never felt before. He wants to know everything about you.

“‘Course. See you soon, then.”

“Bye, Eddie.”

He hangs up.

You leave a bit after that. Not too soon, because you didn’t want to make it seem like you didn’t have other things to do, even though you didn’t. You’ve memorized the walk to the store at this point, and it doesn’t take you long to get there. You’re greeted by Nancy once again, only in person this time.

“Welcome back,” she says.

“Hi,” you smile at her, you hope it doesn’t look like a nervous grimace. “Um, Eddie told me to come here to pick something up.”

“Right, okay,” she stands, heading in the direction of his office, pausing to say, “he must really like you.”

Great. Some more material for you to analyze about Eddie and how he acts with you. It’s odd to have someone on your mind so constantly, to try and make sense of it. He has something about him that pulls you in, and you’re not sure how, or why, but you let yourself be pulled.

His hair is tied in a low bun when you see him, his bangs and stray strands of hair make it look messy, like he hasn’t had the time to redo it. And yet, he had the time to speak to you on the phone and now.

“Moon girl,” he says, lips turned up just enough to be noticeable.

“Eddie, hi,” your hands twist themselves into the sleeves of your knitted sweater. “Thank you for taking time for me, I know it was a dumb question.”

“It wasn’t. I’m glad you care enough to make sure you’re using the right things,” he says. He holds out the lotion, “speaking of.”

“Perfect. How much do I owe?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He probably shouldn’t make a habit of giving things away for free to girls he thinks are pretty and that confuse him way too much. For you, though, he’ll make an exception. It’s not like anybody else is driving him nuts like you are, anyway.

“No, you’ve done so much already. Please let me pay.”

“It’s fine, I promise that one bottle of lotion won’t hurt me.” But this possibly being the last time I see you might, he thinks.

“If you’re sure.”

“I am,” he confirms. “I’ll see you around then.”

“Bye, Eddie. Thank you.”

“Bye, moon girl.”

You look down at your feet as he walks away, letting your hair curtain your face. You really shouldn’t be feeling so giddy because of a fucking bottle of lotion and a new nickname, but you are.

“Holy shit,” Robin’s voice comes from the front desk. You hadn’t noticed, but she must’ve walked out at some point during your quick interaction with Eddie.

You curse yourself and try to hide the smile that threatens to spread across your face. “Hey, Robin.”

“Well hello,” she’s looking at you like she knows something you don’t, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “I don’t know how you did it but he’s never acted like that with any client. Like, ever.”

You don’t say anything, biting the inside of your lip to distract from the butterflies in your stomach.

“And, I’m so glad you’re here,” she changes the subject, thankfully. “Because Eddie mentioned you’re new to the city and god knows I could use friends who don’t work here and I wanted to know if you wanted to come for drinks sometime?”

Eddie spoke about you? Robin wants to be your friend? You can’t wrap your head around either of those things. It’s been so long since you’ve hung out with someone who wasn’t family. And even then, it was tiring, not fun.

You realize she’s still waiting for an answer when she clears her throat.

“Sorry, um. Yeah, that would be nice.”

“Yay!” She cheers. “What’s your number? I’ll call you next time there’s plans.”

You write it down on a scrap piece of paper for her, and she beams at you when she takes it.

“Eddie‘s gonna be thanking me for this one later,” she teases. “I think we’ll be great friends.”

You look at her smile, at her crooked tie that rests atop an oversized button up. You think she might be right about that.

As soon as you leave Robin and Nancy go to Eddie’s office. An intervention of sorts. They walk in without knocking (the door was open anyway) and stand in front of him with some look.

He’s pretty sure he knows why they’re both staring at him with knowing smiles, but he tries to ignore them and busy himself with some sketches.

Robin’s not having it, so she sits in the chair across from Eddie, kicking her feet up onto his desk.

“What do you want?” He sighs.

“Um, hello? Are we not gonna pretend that you weren’t flirting with her in your own, weird, Eddie way?” Robin starts.

“Dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Come on,” Nancy joins the conversation, on Robin’s side as always. “You’ve never told a client to ask for you, or given them free stuff.”

“Yeah! And, you were all ‘see you around, moon girl, hey let me stare at you and then not do anything about it,’” Robin lowers her voice, imitating him very inaccurately.

“I don’t know. She was nice, that’s all.”

“Nice enough to break your little rule of being mister nonchalant. I think you like her,” she’s right, but Eddie doesn’t even want to admit that to himself, let alone his friends.

He doesn’t say anything, shifting in his seat. He knows they both mean well, but he doesn’t know what to think and an ambush isn’t necessarily helping that. The pit in his stomach he’s had since he realized he might never see you again hasn't lessened, and the memory of your perfume or the feeling of your skin hasn’t faded.

So, maybe you did have an effect on him, but it doesn’t matter anymore. It didn’t matter in the first place because he wouldn’t let it.

“Look, Eddie, we’re not trying to make you admit anything,” Nancy says, “we just noticed that you acted differently with her. Steve did, too, I’m sure. And it was a good different. You seemed less guarded, I guess.”

“What she said!” Robin adds.

“Yeah, thanks guys, but it’s nothing, okay?”

They share a look, one that Eddie doesn’t understand but he’s gotten used to their silent communications over time. He scratches at the back of his neck, nervous about what they’re thinking.

“Anyway, I got her number,” Robin says, holding the small paper you wrote on for Eddie to see.

He grabs it, staring at your handwriting and the small heart you added next to your name. He fights a smile at the sight of it, cute and lopsided and though he doesn’t know you well, it’s very you.

He clears his throat, handing the paper back. “I’ve got her number on file already.”

“It’s not for you! It’s for me and Nance. We’re gonna be friends,” she grins, proud.

“We’re probably gonna invite her next time we go out, and wanted you to know. Just in case you care,” Nancy says, explaining.

Just in case you care.

He does care, he thinks. He cares way too much for someone he’s met three times and knows very little about. He knows you’re pretty, you apologize a ton, you fidget with your hands when you’re nervous, and you like the moon.

He knows that he cares what you think about him, and that when you called the tattoo he gave you beautiful, it meant more to him than most compliments do. ‘Cause it was you who said it. It’s too much for him.

Maybe he’ll skip out on the next outing.

“That’s nice,” he settles for.

“She’s new to the city and she’s cool. Don’t you think, Eddie?” Robin asks.

He swipes her boot-clad feet from his desk in response.

“We just don’t want you to hold yourself back, that’s all. You never go on dates or anything, even though you’ve had many chances,” Nancy says, softer now that she sees Eddie’s mind is full.

“Thanks for caring, you guys, seriously. But I’m fine. I like being single.”

“So, just be friends with her, then,” Robin suggests.

Her and Nancy leave him alone after that, his mind a bigger mess than before and it’s completely surrounding you. He doesn’t understand how someone could make him rethink everything like he is.

I like being single, he’d said.

And yet, when he imagines going on a date with you, giving you flowers, complimenting your dress or your hair, he’s not sure how true that statement is.

Your days drag by. You work in a small café, and whenever you’re not there, you’re either wasting away hours in your apartment or taking aimless walks. It’s a never-ending cycle, a carousel spinning round and round.

The only eventful thing that happened to you (other than your new tattoo) was accidentally spilling coffee all over yourself at work and having to stick out the rest of your shift in wet clothes. Not necessarily something you want to remember.

You’re beginning to lose hope that Robin will ever use your number.

It shocks you when your phone finally rings. You try to convince yourself it’s telemarketers, a wrong number, anything not to get your hopes up. Lucky for you, it actually is Robin.

“Hello?” Is your automatic word when you pick up.

“Hi! Listen, I’m so sorry it took so long to call,” she doesn’t have to say it to know it’s her. Robin has a very distinct way of speaking; rushed and animated. “So, I actually lost the paper. Silly me! But, then I found it and I had to convince the others to want to go out. Anyway, you wanna come?”

“Hi, Robin. That’s okay,” you find yourself smiling. Your first real one in a while. “When?”

“Oh! I forgot to say. Tonight?”

“I can do that,” you try to sound excited, you hope she can tell.

“Perfect! Do you have a pen and paper? I’ll tell you the place.”

You reach for your notepad and pen and do your best not to drop the phone in the process. Somehow, you manage.

“Yep, ready.”

She rambles off an address, a meeting time, and then, “shit. Boss is coming, better act like I’m working. Bye!”

She hangs up, and you know who she means when she says ‘boss.’

You’ve been trying your best not to think of Eddie, but it’s easier said than done. You constantly think you see him in crowds that pass by. A head of long, curly hair here, a worn leather jacket there. It’s confusing and almost embarrassing.

This boy who you barely know, taking up so much space in your life.

You’re reminded that you’ll most likely be seeing him tonight, as long as you’re right in assuming that by ‘the others,’ Robin meant her coworkers. The thought makes you nervous, makes your stomach do things you aren’t used to.

Despite the time you had between the phone call and when you had to leave, you’re in a hurry to get ready. Picking your outfit was the hardest part, because you’d never been to the place before. You decided on a dress that was simple enough, a denim jacket that you’d probably end up taking off (you get warm when you drink), and your trusty Doc Martens.

Your makeup is a little messy, but you don’t have enough time to fix it so you act like the smudged eyeliner was purposefully done. Your hair was left down.

Walking through the doors of the bar, you’re a couple minutes late and a little out of breath from your rushing. You look around in search of a familiar face when waving catches your eye.

It’s Robin, who’s waving the most obviously, her arm swinging back and forth until Nancy pulls it down and says something to her. Probably telling her you’ve seen them and she can stop. It’s sweet.

You make your way through the crowd towards the booth they’d secured. The boy, who’s introduced to you as Steve, is sitting in the corner on one side, Robin and Nancy on the other. Eddie’s absence is noted, and you guess you must’ve looked confused because Robin spoke up and said, “he’s just in the bathroom.”

She beckons you to sit with her and Nancy, and you fall into conversation easily. Even Steve is easy to talk to and you’ve only just learned his name. Sometimes you worry you’re intruding in their group, an outsider. In a way, you are, because you don’t work with them nor have you been friends with any of them for a long time, but they have yet to make you feel that way.

It’s a far cry from the friends (or lack thereof) you had back home, in the best way possible.

When Eddie comes back, the first thing he sees is you. He’s shocked. Not because you’re there—he was well aware of you being invited—but because you look like you belong with his friends. You fit right in, and you aren’t even trying. Then, he notices your dress and he wishes he could ignore the feeling he gets.

He’s painfully aware of how pretty you are, and when you look over, as if feeling his eyes on you, you give him a small smile and wave. He walks over and slides into the booth next to Steve as casually as possible.

“You look nice,” he says. It’s the best he can come up with.

“Thank you.”

The two of you are too busy looking at each other and trying to figure out what to say when the others share some kind of look. Knowing.

Your nerves pickup when Eddie’s around and you scold yourself for it. You have no business feeling anything towards him, and yet, his very simple compliment will be the root of your daydreams for days to come.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” you think you need one. “What’s everyone else want?”

“I’ll help you bring them,” Robin says.

You both stand, and everyone tells you what they want. You make your way to the bar and wait your turn. The feelings you have towards Eddie are confusing, and you’re not exactly sure what they even are. Intrigue, attraction, tension. Whatever it is, it’s unfamiliar.

Robin leans on the bar beside you, noticing you looking towards Eddie before even you do. When you pry your eyes away, she’s smirking at you.

“He likes you, you know?”

“Who, Eddie?” You ask even though you know that’s who she’s talking about. “No, he doesn’t. I actually think he dislikes me.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding. I’ve never seen him act like he does around you, and I’ve known him a really long time. Seriously.”

“He’s just being nice,” that’s all it is, you’re convincing her as well as yourself.

“Please. I know he’s hard to read and seems kind of closed-off, but he’s warmer towards you than most people. He barely even talks to clients, usually.”

Everything she’s saying, you can tell she thinks is true, but if you let yourself think it, too, you’d be absolutely fucked. Your mind would go wild with scenarios and imagining what could happen. You’re doing enough of that as is.

“I don’t know, Robin.”

“You’ll see, trust me.”

Unbeknownst to you, a very similar conversation is happening back at the table. Steve and Nancy are trying to knock some sense into Eddie, to get him to realize it’s okay to let someone else in. He denies it all just as you did, his head a mess.

He realizes that you’re not his client anymore, you’re here as a possible friend, and it scares him. There’s no guise to hide under with his urge to care for you.

When you and Robin return with the drinks, you’re the one who hands Eddie his, and when his fingers brush against yours, just barely, he feels them tingle even after the contact ends.

You loosen up a little bit as the night goes on, and you do end up taking your jacket off. The spaghetti straps of your dress leave your tattoo exposed, and Eddie can’t help but look at it. He’s always proud of his work, but seeing it on you is different for him. He likes that his mark is on you.

Nancy and Robin leave first, walking out leaned into each other. The rest of you follow shortly after, Steve slipping out after a quick goodbye. When you stand, you stumble slightly. Eddie catches you, a hand wrapped around your upper arm.

“Let me walk you home,” he says, his hand trailing down your arm lightly before he pulls away completely.

“That’s okay, Eddie. Really.”

You put your jacket back on and struggle to find one of the sleeves, your arm reaching back awkwardly. Once again, Eddie’s quick to help you, pulling your jacket over and guiding your arm to the right spot. You thank him quietly.

“C’mon, it’s dark out.”

“You’re not gonna let me say no, are you?”

He shakes his head, that small smile you so rarely see making an appearance.

The walk is quiet for a bit, the chilled air of the night nipping at your skin, your arms pulling your jacket tight to your chest. He falls into step next to you easily, pace matching yours so he stays right next to you.

He can tell you’re cold, and he resists the urge to throw an arm over your shoulders and pull you closer to warm you up. It’d be weird, he thinks. You barely know him and he’s sure you’d much rather be walking with one of the girls right now than with him.

“Sorry for, like, intruding in your friend group.”

Though you haven’t felt like an outsider, you do feel bad about worming your way into their group that seemed to have stayed the same for so long. You feel bad for the change you caused, the shift.

“What? You’re not,” he says.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, moon girl. I am.”

He knows he might not be the most welcoming person, but he doesn’t mind having you around, really. What he minds is the confusion that comes along with it, which isn’t your fault at all. That’s on him.

“Okay. Thanks for letting me come, then.”

“I think Robin would have smacked me if I didn’t. Besides, you’re nice to have around.”

He doesn’t know if it’s the few drinks or if it’s just a fluke, but the bit of honesty slips out of him with ease. Eddie’s not a trusting person, he’s been through too much for that, but he has never once felt like you were judging him.

The rest of the walk to your apartment is filled with light conversation and small, awkward silences. Having him next to you does make you feel safer, though. You never know what could happen.

He walks you all the way up to your door. You pull out your keys and fiddle with them, your hand shakes when you try to insert it into the lock. You miss a couple of times and feel the embarrassment scorch you. You don’t know if it’s the cold, or the drinks, or if it’s him making your hands unstable. Maybe it’s all of the above.

Yet again, Eddie helps you. He comes up behind you, his chest hovering over your back, close enough to feel the heat of his body, not close enough to touch.

“Here, sweetheart” he wraps his hand around yours and guides the key into the slot, the pet name slipping out without him noticing.

You do notice, though. He says it so softly, and you think it’s your favorite word that’s come out of his mouth so far. It has your heartbeat picking up, a steady thump in your chest.

“Thanks,” you breathe out.

You turn around, leaving the key in the door for now. He’s much closer than you were expecting and he doesn’t back away. Your back against your door, your nose almost touching his.

Then, something shifts, and he’s leaning in and kissing you.

It takes you a second to get over your initial shock, but you recover quickly, winding your arms around his neck and kissing him back. He makes a sound against your mouth when you do, pressing you further into the door. He has a thigh between yours, his hands holding your waist tightly.

He kisses you like he means it, and you forget about everything else. You forget that this Eddie is the same one who puzzles you so much, that not long ago you were convinced that you’d never see him again. And yet, he’s here, kissing you sick in your hallway.

He sucks at your bottom lip, pulling away and letting it snap back into place, opening his eyes to look at you for a second, then he dives back in. Soon enough, he’s licking along the seam of your lips to open you up, and his tongue has your knees weak.

When you whimper into his mouth, he tenses.

He’s snapped back into reality, realizing that he just made out with you against your door. He pulls away, pushing his fingers into his hair. There’s a sudden change, though this one feels much worse than the one where he kissed you.

There are too many things in his head. Thinking he shouldn’t be doing this or that you’ll hate him for it. You’re about to open your mouth and ask him what’s wrong when he speaks first.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he steps back until he’s against the wall opposite from you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Eddie-”

“No, shit. I’m sorry. Good night.”

He’s walking away before you can say anything else. You stand frozen for what could be minutes before finally letting yourself into your apartment. Closing and locking the door behind you, you lean your forehead against the wood and wonder what the fuck just happened.

You’re not sure what you did wrong to make him have to leave so suddenly, and you know it’ll torment you constantly. Replaying in the back of your mind. The worst part is, you were ready to invite him inside, to let him do whatever he wanted with you. He was gone before you could even get there.

Eddie feels awful for leaving the way he did, and he thinks about turning around and knocking on your door the whole way home. He never does, though. He’s sure you don’t want to see him.

You both have a fitful sleep that night. Blocks away, both tossing and turning in bed with that kiss plaguing your minds.

Robin and Nancy’s calls grow more frequent over the following couple of weeks, and in turn, so do your encounters with Eddie. You’ve become closer, would like to say you’ve become friends, even. Though, nothing like the kiss that the two of you choose to ignore happens again.

You chalked it up to his tipsiness, he tries to forget it altogether.

It’s not because it was bad, or unwanted. It’s quite the opposite, actually. Eddie’s so used to kissing meaning absolutely nothing, leading to more every single time. Your kiss, though, was completely different. It made him feel more than he knew he was capable of.

He’s surprised that you have yet to say something about it, especially considering the way that he left. It’s a two way street; he doesn’t bring it up at all, either.

He wants to. He wants to be able to explain himself to you, to tell you why he had to pull himself away so quickly. Only, he’s not sure how. He doesn’t know how to explain the way he finds himself drawn to you, the reason he kissed you, or the feeling that runs through him every time you lock eyes. If he can’t even make sense of it himself, how is he supposed to make sense of it to you?

He can’t even bring himself to tell anyone about it because he knows, as much as they try, it won’t help.

Tonight, you’re all piled on the couches in Steve’s apartment (it’s the nicest one) eating pizza straight from the box and chatting. It’s nice to be a part of a true friend group. You’ve never had anything like it before.

“Eddie, you left your guitar here, you know?” Steve says.

He plays guitar? Fuck.

“Shit, yeah. I did.”

“You know what that means,” Robin draws out the last word, shimmying her shoulders.

“No. Absolutely not,” Eddie shakes his head.

“Please! Serenade us, Eddie.”

They go back and forth for a bit and your gaze switches between the two of them like you’re watching a game of ping pong.

“I’d like to hear you play,” you pitch in.

Robin—of course—wears a smirk. She’s been trying to get the two of you together since she saw how you interacted, and she knows Eddie won’t say no to you. He couldn’t if he tried.

“Really?” Eddie asks softly.

“Yeah. I didn’t know you played,” you shift in your seat, “I’d love to hear it. If you want.”

He fiddles with his guitar pick necklace, which you catch. Maybe that should’ve been a dead giveaway that he’s a musician, but you’d never noticed it before, usually hidden by the collar of his shirt.

Eddie’s not usually a nervous person, but the prospect of you listening to him play has him feeling that way. He’s never worried so much about how someone looks at him, or what they might think. With you, he worries because he wants to impress you, he’s realized.

“Yeah, okay. Just for you, I’ll go grab it.”

Just for you. You turn your face away to try and hide how it affects you.

He asks Steve where he left it, and goes off to retrieve it. You watch him walk away until he disappears behind a corner. There’s something about him that pulls you in, something you wish you could figure out. You know you like him, it’s quite obvious, but it’s the kind that has thoughts of him crowding your mind and that has you overthinking every word.

“You guys are paining me, I hope you know,” Robin says.

“We’re just friends. Seriously.”

“Are you sure about that?” Steve adds on. Nancy tends to just observe when the topic of you and Eddie is brought up. She’s a rational person, and she’s trying to let it work itself out naturally. Though, she’s sure it will work out eventually. Hopefully sooner than later.

Eddie comes back before you can manage a reply, holding an acoustic guitar decorated with messy, white, painted-on lettering that says ‘this machine slays dragons.’

He sits down and tunes the guitar first, focused on his task. It gives you a chance to look at him closely, lets you get away with it because the others are watching him, too. Waiting for him to start to play. When he does, you’re transfixed.

Your eyes don’t stray from him at all throughout the song he plays. His fingers move with so much ease, his rings catching the light. It’s no surprise that he’s talented with his hands, just look at the art he creates on people’s bodies everyday. But, this is another layer to it, a piece of him that made you want to see more. Made you want to collect every jigsaw piece until you had the whole image.

You think you could listen to him play for hours on end and never get tired of his strumming. Yeah, you really do like him.

When he finishes, everyone gives him a round of applause, and he hopes his hair does enough to cover up the blush that blooms on his cheeks. He looks to you first, and you’re beaming, looking at him like he’s just done something groundbreaking.

“That was amazing, Eddie,” you say.

“It’s nothing special,” he replies.

“It is. You’re really talented,” you sound so sincere it squeezes his heart in a fist. “Double talented, actually.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

He lets it slip again, and you soak it up. Eddie tries to avoid the looks from his friends, especially after the pet name. Surely, they’re all wearing smug smiles and plotting ways to talk him into giving whatever the thing between the two of you is a go.

He sets the guitar aside, clearing his throat amidst the awkward silence. You look at your lap and frown at the run in your tights that you just noticed, avoiding being the first to say anything.

Every new detail you learn about Eddie only makes you like him more. You’re still not sure if he even considers you a friend, but you certainly consider him one. You would ask but decide to save yourself the stress of having to bring it up. The worst part is, the idea of him not liking you hurts more than you’d like to admit.

The silence is eventually broken, and the floodgates of conversation have opened back up. You and Eddie both let out a breath of relief, synchronized in secrecy.

When you get up to leave, Eddie suddenly has the urge to go, too, and he offers to take you home. Much like the time before, he doesn’t let you decline the offer. He’s just being nice, you think to yourself, he would do it for anyone.

This time, he drove, and he opens the passenger door for you when you reach his car. It smells like him inside, sandalwood, something sweet, the underlying smokiness of cigarettes that you don’t mind when it comes to him. He has a pair of dice hanging from his mirror, though they’re twenty-sided instead of your average six.

“You’ll have to give me directions back to yours,” he says, starting the car. “I remember the area, but…”

Yes, he remembers the area all too well. It’s where he lingered after he sprung a kiss on you and then walked away. It’s where he jerked himself around mentally trying to decide whether he should go back to you or just go home.

“Don’t worry, I can be your map.”

The drive is silent save for the music humming through the speakers and your occasional instructions on which turns to take. It isn’t awkward, you don’t think. It’s comfortable in the way that you don’t feel the need to fill it.

One of Eddie’s hands reaches out and lightly tugs on your skirt, “this looks really nice on you.”

He pulls it away after he says it and you wish he didn’t.

“Oh,” you look down at the fabric, something you’ve owned for years, worn when you can’t figure anything else out. It’s never been anything special, but now, you feel like it might be. “Thank you.”

Eddie feels inclined to compliment you all of the time, he’s learned, but he often lets them float in his head rather than say them to you.

He parks on the street by your apartment complex soon after, but you don’t get out right away. You unbuckle your seatbelt and place a hand on the door, but he stops you.

The sight of your building has him thinking about the night you kissed for what feels like the thousandth time. He wants to kiss you again and he clenches his fists to ground himself. If you’re any bit as torn up about it as him, he wants to know. He also wants to try and explain himself to you, even if he still isn’t sure how.

“Hey. About that night,” he doesn’t have to specify. You know exactly what he’s talking about. Your hand lets go of the door handle, settling in your lap. “I’m sorry I kissed you.”

“You are?”

You don’t want him to be sorry, or to feel bad about it. You only want to know what you did to scare him off the way you did. You also want him to kiss you again.

“Um, yeah. I shouldn’t have just sprung onto you like that.”

“Why did you?” Is what you say next.

“I dunno. You just looked so pretty, and I had the urge. The drinks gave me the strength to do it, I guess.”

He hadn’t been drunk, not one bit, but he doesn’t want to use the alternate explanation just yet. He doesn’t want to say ‘I kissed you because you confuse me more than anyone else. Because I’ve never felt so bent out of shape because of one person. Because you were looking at me like you wanted me to, and I can’t say no to you.’

He could, but he doesn’t want to.

“You think I’m pretty?”

He nods, almost ashamed about it.

“I think you’re pretty, too, Eddie,” his eyes lock onto yours, “and I’m not sorry you kissed me at all.”

“What?”

“I liked kissing you. I was going to ask you if you wanted to come inside before you left.”

You don’t know where your candidness is coming from, but you can’t stop yourself anymore. You’ve wondered and wondered what could’ve happened that night had he stayed, and by the way his gaze flicks down to your lips, you think you might find out.

The car suddenly feels smaller, the air thicker, when he asks, “does that offer still stand?”

You nod, he shuts off the car. You both get out, walking up to your place in a sort of haze. Neither of you know what will come from any of this, you’re going in blind and it’s as exciting as it is nerve-wracking.

Things slow down once you’re inside. It’s as if a fog has cleared and now, you’re both painfully aware of everything you’re doing, or saying. His eyes flit around your apartment in silence, looking at your bookshelf, noting the lack of personal photos.

You cut in before he can comment on your place, “can I get you anything? Water, or…”

When he responds, it’s not to your question. Instead, he asks you one: “how’s your tattoo healing?”

He’s been curious about how you’re feeling with it ever since he caught glimpses of it that night at the bar. You pause by your small kitchen island, looking him over before you can manage to reply.

“Oh. Good, I think,” you shrug a shoulder, “I don’t know enough about tattoos but it hasn’t bothered me much.”

“I can look at it, if you want.”

“Are you sure?”

You say it as if he would be going through lots of trouble to do so, when in reality he’s using it as an excuse to get his hands on you. Tattoos are familiar, not foreign the way his feelings for you are. It’s an excuse to ease himself into whatever this is.

“‘Course I am, let me see.”

“Okay. Light’s better in the bathroom.”

He follows you into your bathroom, and you wish you’d taken into account how small it is because you’re forced to be close to him and it’s making you nervous. The anticipation and unknown a flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

“Shirt off,” he says, his voice smooth.

You listen, because it’s hard not to when he sounds the way he does. You turn to face the mirror and peel your shirt away, tossing it to the ground when you do. You’re suddenly very aware that your bra isn’t the nicest you own, and your instinct is to cover it with your arms.

Eddie stops you, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror, his hands wrapping around your wrists gently, pulling them down. “Don’t you dare. You’re beautiful.”

He looks away after he says it, but you can tell he means it. It’s in the way he makes sure you’re looking at him when he speaks, the way he squeezes your wrists reassuringly before letting them go.

For a second, he forgot why you’re even in the position you are. He forgets that he’s meant to be looking at your tattoo until you say, “how is it?”

“Right, yeah,” he looks it over, and he’s satisfied to see that it looks exactly how it should at this stage. “Really good, actually. You’re doing a great job.”

The compliment warms your insides.

“Thank you.”

“Want me to clean it for you?”

“Sure, thanks.”

He does, disinfecting it first, after finding your products on your counter. He’s gentle as usual, his hands a welcome feeling. Then, he applies the layer of lotion slowly, almost like he’s trying to tease you. It’s working.

His hands trail down your arms when he’s done, his head dipping down to press a kiss on the top of your shoulder. The first one is soft, a barely-there push of his lips against your skin. The next is a bit firmer, his confidence growing with each one.

They trail over the curve of your shoulder, his hands still running their paths up and down your arms, raising goosebumps in their wake, his chunky rings cold. He kisses his way up your neck, your head lulling to the side to grant him more access and your eyes fluttering shut.

Everything he does is filing you up more and more and he’s barely even begun.

“Eddie,” you sigh when he tugs on your earlobe with his teeth.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

He has no idea what’s come over him, but there’s no hiding the effect you have over him anymore. As soon as he got his hands on you, even just to clean your tattoo, he knew he’d be addicted.

“What are you doing?”

“Kissing you. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, yes, it’s- feels nice.”

You would be overthinking if you weren’t so distracted by the feeling of his lips on your skin. And when he uses a hand to tilt your face towards his and kisses you, you’re not sure there’s a single thought left in your head.

There’s something about him that makes everything more intense. You feel like all of your senses are captured by him and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. The smell of his cologne, the taste on his tongue, the feeling of his hands on you and his long hair tickling your skin. All of it.

Eddie pulls away to let the both of you breathe only when it’s absolutely necessary. He’s drunk on every kiss he gets from you and he doesn’t mind one bit. He wonders what you’re like in bed, what sounds you’d make for him, and he can’t stop himself from asking, “can I fuck you?”

The words are spoken between heavy breaths, puffed out against your lips.

“Yes. Please.”

Please, you say. As if you would even have to beg him. You have no idea what you’re doing to him and it only makes him want you more. He pushes his hips against your ass, letting you feel how hard he is and you whimper, you fucking whimper and he’s so gone.

He pushes you down to bed over the counter with a hand on the center of your back, and you obey easily. You’re practically squirming with want, the dampness in your panties growing with every move he makes.

Then, he flips your skirt up, his hands running over the tights that cover you before ripping them in the middle.

“I’ll buy you new ones,” he says.

He keeps a hand on your back, though its drifted much lower, and the other sneaks its way between your legs, cupping you over your underwear before pressing his fingers against you. You can't help but moan at the feeling.

“Soaking already, sweetheart?” He taunts.

“Eddie, come on.”

“What is it?”

“You’re teasing me,” you huff out, your cheek pressed against your cool countertop.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

He hooks his fingers in the fabric covering you, pulling it aside and going right back to his teasing. His fingers run up and down your slit, dipping into where you’re wet only to pull away and circle your clit; just enough to give you a taste, to have you wanting more.

He’s winding you up and up and up and you think you might pass out if he doesn’t make you come soon.

“Eddie.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve got you.”

It’s then that he pushes one finger in, his rings that still sit around his fingers only add to the intensity. He works a second one in quickly, your cunt sucking him in and he can’t even imagine how good it’ll feel when he gets to fuck you for real.

He’s quick to learn what you like, what makes you pulse around his fingers or moan a little louder. You had no clue that things could ever feel this good and when his thumb finds your clit, you’re absolutely done for.

Your breaths come out hot, bits of condensation gathering on the counter, “fuck. Oh my god.”

“Feel good?” He asks even though he knows damn well it does—your reactions are telling enough. He picks up the pace, his fingers pressing against that spot that has your knees going weak. He wraps his unoccupied arm around your waist to hold you up.

“So, so good, Eddie. Gonna come.”

“Go on, all over my hand, sweetness. Then I’ll fill you right up, how’s that sound?”

Your response is caught in your throat, a whine bubbling out instead.

“Quicker you come, the quicker I’ll give it to you,” he tacks on.

The thought of him fucking you after this drives you nuts because if just his fingers feel this good, you can’t even imagine what his cock will be like. Your orgasm washes over you, eyes rolling back.

He works you through it, steadily slowing down and easing away to give you a break. He pulls his fingers away, chuckling at the noise you make when he does, and sucks them clean. Then, softly, he’s leaning down and kissing his way up your spine.

“Holy shit,” you breathe.

“You okay?”

“More than okay. You’re really good.”

“‘M not done yet, babe.”

He stands back up, but he pulls you along with him so you're no longer resting on the counter. Hands on your hips spin you to face him, and as soon as you do he surges forward to kiss you. It’s quick, like he’s making sure it’s still okay to keep going.

His touch trails up to the band of your bra—which is askew, but still on. “Can I take this off?”

You nod, but he waits for a verbal confirmation before unclasping it and pulling it away from your chest. It joins your shirt on the ground.

You’re suddenly very aware that you’re half-naked and he isn’t. You tug on his shirt, eager to even the score, “you too.”

“Well, it’s only fair, isn’t it?”

He peels his shirt over his head, and you realize that you’ve yet to see his tattoos so closely. You reach out, tracing them lightly with your fingertips. First, the bats that adorn his forearm, working your way up to his shoulder, then down his chest. He lets you, happy to have your hands on him.

While you’re occupied with his tattoos, he looks you over, free to stare without worrying if you’ll notice. His eyes travel across your face, the slope of your nose, the shape of your lips. They go down your neck, a canvas he plans to leave his mark on, and down to your chest that’s now bare.

The sight is enough to remind him of how hard he is, straining against his jeans. He kisses you again, heavier this time, and lets his hands cup your tits, squeezing and thumbing over your nipples. You moan into the kiss and he can’t control himself any longer.

He lifts you up to sit on the counter, close enough to the edge that you’re forced to wrap your legs around him.

“You still want this?” He asks.

Your hands go to his jeans, popping the button open and lowering his zipper slowly, “yeah, Eddie. I want this. I want you.”

I want you. Eddie doesn’t know why the words make his heart go all fluttery, why they make him look at you like you’ve put the stars in the sky just for him. He kisses you all over again.

You fit your hand between his jeans and his boxers, and you gasp into the kiss when you feel just how big he is. He’s wide, and you know the stretch of him will be a kind of burn that hurts so good. You stroke him over his boxers first, but quickly grow impatient to see him.

You tuck your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them and his jeans down enough to free him. You pull back only to be able to look at him properly, leaning your forehead against Eddie’s bare shoulder, your bottom lip bitten between your teeth because he’s pretty everywhere.

He kisses the side of your head, tender in the midst of the heat of it all.

You think, despite his initial distance, Eddie’s one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met. He shows it in the small things he does. Offering to take you home, the gentleness of his hands, his constant checking in on you to make sure this is what you wanted.

Yeah, you like him a whole lot.

Your hand wraps around his cock, jerking him slowly at first. A tease, he thinks. And then you pick up your pace just a bit and he thinks he might come before he even gets to be inside you and as much as he would love to see your hand covered in him, it’s not what he wants right now.

He’s never wanted anyone like he does you and he knows that information will have him overthinking later, but right now, it just makes him desperate to have you.

“Fuck,” he grabs a hold of your wrist, “as good as this feels, sweetheart, you gotta stop or I’ll come and this’ll be cut short. You don’t want that do you?”

He tips your chin up with his free hand, pecks your lips quickly before giving you the chance to respond.

“No. Want you to fuck me,” you say.

“Dirty girl.”

He reaches for a condom in one of your drawers when you tell him where to find them. When you bought them, you were almost embarrassed, because what were you expecting? Certainly not this.

He’s back on you before you really feel his absence, running his hands up your thighs, under your skirt, and tearing the hole he’d already made wider.

“You want me to stop, you tell me, okay?”

“Okay.”

Pushing your legs apart further to make room for him, he reaches down to paint himself up and down your slit, pushing himself in only when he’s teased the both of you sufficiently.

It’s a welcome stretch, one that’s better than anything you’ve ever felt in situations like this and you wonder why you didn’t move away sooner, if this is what it led to.

Eddie leans forward, resting his hands on the counter on either side of you, close enough that his arms brush against you. His face is close to yours but he doesn’t kiss you, no, he breathes the air you do, swallowing any sound you make.

His first couple of thrusts are tentative, slow, but when you wrap your arms around his neck and speak a quiet, ‘faster, please,’ he dives right in.

Somehow, he manages to know just what you need, and he wraps his arms around your waist to keep you still as he moves harder, quicker. Both of you are still half dressed, your clothes in disarray and his are pushed to his knees. You’re both so wrapped up in want and it shows.

“Fuck me,” you whine as he hits that spot inside you, like he’s done it a hundred times before.

“Thought that’s what I was doing, sweets.”

“Eddie.”

“I know, baby. You’re doing so good.”

He knows your orgasm is creeping up on you, he can feel it in the way you pulse around him, squeeze him tighter, bury your face in his neck so that your moans are pushed into his skin.

If he could, he thinks he’d get the sound of them permanently etched into his mind.

“Taking it so well. You wanna come, sweet girl?”

You nod against his skin, “yes. Yes, can I?”

He snakes a hand down to rub your clit, to push you over that edge and says, “let go. Give it to me.”

It’s like his words were what you were waiting for, the breaking point to let you finish. It’s enough to make your moans get caught in your throat and your eyes squeeze shut, seeing stars.

“Oh my god,” you choke out.

“That’s it,” he works you through it, and only when he’s sure that you’re on the comedown does he let himself finish, too.

He pulls your head from his neck with a hand cupping the back of yours, kissing you to really seal the deal, coming with a grunt into your mouth.

When he’s spent, he rests his forehead against yours, running his hands up and down your back soothingly, “you okay?”

“Mmm. Amazing,” you reply, dazed with a fucked out smile on your face. “Why’re you good at everything?”

He chuckles, kissing your cheek before pulling out, “maybe I’m just good at them with you.”

Discarding the condom and pulling his boxers back up—removing his jeans completely—he then finds a small towel and wets it in the sink. Meanwhile, you take off the rest of your outfit, figuring he’s seen enough already. He cleans you up first, delicate hands and a soft apology when you wince from the sensitivity.

He picks you up when he’s done, your legs wrapped around his waist and your head dropped against his shoulder. It feels natural, he thinks, to take care of you the way he would a lover. You feel like you belong there, in his hold, and he knows that you’ve changed him in a way.

His reluctance to get into any kind of relationship seems to have flown out the window now.

The door across the hall is the first he tries, and he guessed correctly when he finds your bedroom on the other side of the door.

He lays you down on your bed, and you pull the blankets up over yourself, lazily. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to look at Eddie the same way, but it’s not a bad thing. It’s not because of the sex, though it was notably the best you’ve ever had and you’ll undoubtedly think about it constantly. It’s because you have feelings for him. Real, true, romantic feelings that run far too deep for you to ignore.

He goes to leave, but you catch his wrist, “you can stay.”

“What?”

“I want you to stay with me. If you want to,” you say.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

He doesn't even hesitate, and he tries not to think about what that means for this thing he knows is blooming between you, its petals unfurling slow and steady. He slips into bed beside you, welcoming you when you snuggle into his side.

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

“Night, moon girl.”

You’re both fucked, literally and figuratively.

You wake up the most well-rested you’ve felt in a while. Flipping onto your back, you stretch out, and it’s only then that you feel the emptiness on the other side of the bed.

For a moment, you’d almost forgotten Eddie had been there in the first place. Then, you remembered you were, in fact, naked. The slight ache between your legs was enough to have last night coming back to you in a rush.

You wonder if maybe Eddie had to leave for work, but you don’t find a note or any indication of his departure. Instead, you hear the clanking of pans and plates coming from the kitchen.

You throw on a fresh pair of underwear and one of your oversized sleep shirts that sits at the top of your thighs. You’re still groggy, mind slower with sleep, but you’re awake enough to hear Eddie humming when you open your bedroom door and step out into the hall.

There he is, standing by your stove, cooking breakfast. You rub your eyes to make sure you’re not dreaming. Or seeing things.

He moves around like he’s been using your kitchen for ages, and his presence warms the space that you’ve had such a hard time getting used to. You recognize the song he’s humming to be the one he played on the guitar. The corners of your mouth lift up.

“Eddie?” You call quietly, careful not to startle him while his back is turned to you.

“Oh,” he faces you, frying pan in his hand, “morning, sweetheart.”

“Hi.”

“I’m making us breakfast, I hope that’s okay.”

Is he kidding? It’s the most okay thing anyone’s done for you in a long time and you don’t know whether you want to cry or kiss him. He’s unlike anyone you’ve known, and you can’t believe how different he is now compared to when you first met.

His guard was up, short responses and little emotion. It’s a stark contrast to now, to the way he stands clad only in his boxers and his shirt from the night before, flipping a pancake like it’s the easiest thing in the world. You don’t know how he could even keep the saccharine boy hidden, it seems to ooze out of him now.

“It’s- Eddie, this is really sweet.”

The tips of his ears go pink.

He doesn’t know what possessed him to cook for you, or why the sincerity in your appreciation makes him blush. All he knows is that he thought it would be nice to make you smile, and that there’s something in his chest that seems to expand when you do.

“I hope you like pancakes,” he says.

That morning is the moment you realize you’re falling in love with Eddie Munson.

It’s been weeks since that night, that morning. Somehow, rather than put distance between the two of you, you and Eddie have grown closer. You think he’s one of the best friends you’ve ever had, even though you haven’t known him very long.

You’re not falling in love with him anymore. No, you’re deep in it now.

Of course, Robin was able to draw it out of you, and after all of her assuring you that there’s absolutely no way Eddie doesn’t feel the same, you still can't let yourself believe her. You’ll bever come back from it if you find out he doesn’t when you’ve built up your expectations.

So, you keep them low. He’s your friend, that’s all it’ll ever be and you know it. Or, at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself every time you catch yourself getting a little too lost in him.

You’re meant to be meeting the gang at the tattoo shop and then head somewhere for drinks all together. Because you’re not only close with Eddie now, you’ve found yourself friends that are real and true. Sometimes you find yourself wondering what your life would’ve been like had you been in high school alongside them. You think it would have been much, much better, but you have them now and that’s what matters.

You knock on the door when you get there, the shop already closed and locked up. You’re quickly greeted with Robin’s grinning face on the other side of the glass. She lets you in and wraps you in a brief hug.

“I think you should start working here just so I don’t have to miss you at all in between plans,” she says, stepping back and locking the door again.

“We both know I don’t have the skills for that, but I missed you, too, Robin.”

“Not as much as you missed me, I hope,” is how Eddie chooses to announce his presence.

“Hi, Eddie.”

“Hi, sweetheart.”

Robin scoffs at him, “can you not steal my thunder for once, please.”

“I’m not allowed to say hi to my friend?”

He looks at you when he says friend, like he’s sharing a secret. Only, you have no idea what it might be.

“Whatever. I have to go get Nance since she went home to change,” she gathers her stuff from the desk. Then, she points to you and says, “I better get a very detailed life update later.”

“You know you will,” you say.

“‘Kay, see you soon!”

She leaves after that, and Eddie’s gaze is already fixed on you when you turn towards him.

“C’mere,” he nods towards the doors that lead to the back room, where the station he tattooed you at is all set up.

“What’s this?”

“I want you to give me a tattoo.”

Your eyes widen, “sorry?”

“I’m serious. Doesn’t have to be big, it can be a dot if you want,” he gently nudges your chin with his finger, closing your mouth where it was dropped in surprise. “I wanna teach you.”

Your friendship isn’t the only thing that’s grown since that night. Eddie’s become more touchy with you, too. An arm slung over your shoulders, a hand on your thigh or the nape of your neck. Though this touch is small, it doesn’t fail to leave a lasting effect where it was placed, a warmth, like a drop of sunlight. It almost distracts you from what he’s asking.

“Eddie, I can’t. I’ll mess it up.”

“Babe, I’ve got loads of tattoos. Trust me, it’ll be fine,” he moves his hand to your shoulder, gives it a squeeze. “Plus, you’ve got a great teacher.”

It takes a bit longer for him to convince you, but he succeeds in the end. It’s hard to say no to someone you’re in love with, especially if that someone has really good puppy dog eyes.

Before you really even process it, he’s on the tattoo bed, a pant leg rolled up, shaving a small patch for you to use as your canvas. He does all of the prepping necessary, and even goes as far as to put the gloves on for you.

He explains it all slowly, repeats whatever you ask him to, and promises to guide you through it all. You’re incredibly nervous—who wouldn’t be?

“Relax. You’re gonna be a natural, I know it.”

“How do you know that?”

“You’ve got good hands, sweetheart,” he drops one of his eyelids in a wink.

The flirting is something else that’s become more frequent. You think he’s flirting, that is. He doesn’t act the same way with the rest of the group and you know that, but you also need to not get your hopes up. Still, the butterflies come alive.

You draw your stencil, settling on a very simple rendition of the sun. A small circle with short lines as its rays. It’s fitting for him, you think. As much as he seems like midnight on the outside, that boy is dripping in sunshine.

It also goes with the one he gave you, but that’s just a bonus.

Once it’s applied and you’re sat on the stool, in position to begin, he explains it all over again. He knows you’re nervous, but he isn’t at all. He’s excited to have you do this, to wear a piece of you on his skin.

His hand wraps around yours on the tattoo gun for the first line, guiding you so that you can get the feel of it. He lets you take over after that, assuring you that there’s nothing you could mess up enough to have him dislike it, as long as you’re the one doing it.

As he watches you work, your tongue poking out between your lips in focus, he feels his chest swell. He’s never liked anyone the way he does you, and he’s never let someone untrained tattoo him, that’s for sure. There’s something in him that seems to brighten when you’re around, and he doesn’t know how to put it into words.

He wishes he could pluck the moon out of the sky and hold it in his hand, only to be able to give it to you. Since he can’t do that, he hopes his heart will do good enough. He loves you, that he knows, he just can’t bring himself to say the words out loud.

He’s warmed up to you quicker than ever, so much so that the people around him have noticed. That means something and he knows it.

“I think I’m done,” you say after a bit.

“Yeah? Let’s see this work of art then.”

He sits up, bends closer to his leg to get a look at your handiwork. He’s silent at first and it makes you nervous.

“What do you think?”

“It’s perfect,” he says.

You know it’s far from perfect. The lines aren’t even, nor are they all straight. But he says it like he means it, believes it, so you let yourself smile at that.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’m super sure.”

He wouldn’t have ever picked out the sun for himself, but knowing that you would has his walls crumbling even more—if that’s even possible with you.

He does the cleaning and the wrapping, and you’re happy to observe. Just as he’s finishing up, Robin and Nancy walk in, Steve not far behind.

“I leave you guys for not even an hour, and now you have a tattoo?” Robin says, though she doesn’t even sound surprised.

Eddie thinks his feelings swell and grow every single time he sees you, and he thinks they might just boil over and pour out of him before he even gets to figure out what to say. That won’t do. You deserve more than that.

You deserve to be taken on a date, to be appreciated and taken care of properly, and that’s what he needs to do. The only problem is, he has no idea how to go about it all.

There’s only one person he can think of who will know exactly what to do. The expert in dating; Steve. Eddie calls him into his office.

“What’s up, boss?” Steve says, leaning against the doorway the way he always does.

“Close the door, would you?”

“Shit. Am I in trouble? I may have spilled some ink the other day but you can barely even see it, swears.”

Eddie shakes his head, making note to take a look around his station later. He’s used to Steve’s clumsiness, though, it’s part of the reason he wanted dark floors in the shop.

“No. That’s not- I need your help.”

“Oh. Okay, hit me.”

“I want to ask her out. I just don’t really know, um, where to take her or whatever.”

Eddie doesn’t even have to say your name for Steve to know who he’s talking about. He’s painfully aware that he’s been quite obvious with his affections, especially ever since the night you had sex. He’s always itching to have his hands on you in some way, stealing you away from other conversations, all of it.

That night was like a wake up call for him, a bucket of cold water dumped over his head. He knew there was something about you before that, but it became concrete.

He’d never felt so connected to someone, nor had he been so eager to take care of them afterwards. Hell, he’s never even slept in the same bed as his hookups. He can count on one hand the number of times he’s slept over at all. Then, there was you, asking him to stay and he couldn’t say no to you. He didn’t want to, either.

“You know her better than I do, man. But, flowers, you gotta do. They love that. Do you know her favorites?”

Eddie shakes his head.

“That’s fine. Get a good mix. Other than that, you should just be honest, that’s what Robin always tells me,” he shrugs. “Why don’t you just call her now?”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Come on! She’s gonna say yes. She gives you those lovey-dovey eyes all the time.”

“Okay, that’s enough. Out.”

“Not even a thank you?”

“Thanks, Steve. Bye.”

Steve rolls his eyes as he leaves Eddie’s office, shutting the door behind him again. He, along with Nancy and Robin, knows that you and Eddie will end up together, it’s obvious to everyone except you two, they only want to help it along.

Eddie really hopes that their pestering will be worth it in the end. That you’ll feel the same.

He stares at the phone sitting on his desk for what feels like ages before he musters up the courage to actually call you. He had your file open on his desk, your number written out on one of the forms. He finally picks up the phone and dials it.

Luckily, you weren’t at work. You’d been thinking of Eddie more and more each day it seemed. How he looked at you, the secret smiles that he saved just for you, the way he touched you, the way he felt-

The phone ringing cuts off your train of thought. You walk over and pick it up, prepared for it to be Robin or Nancy since they’re the only ones that ever call you besides your boss. The voice on the other line is neither of them.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sweetheart. It’s Eddie.”

As close as you’ve gotten, for some reason, no phone numbers have been exchanged. You wish they had been, because hearing his voice crackle through the phone is a much nicer sound than most.

“Eddie, hi. How’d you get my number?”

He twists one of his rings around with his thumb. He’s glad you can’t actually see him, because you’d surely be able to tell that he’s nervous.

“It’s on file in the shop. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I like talking to you,” you say, soft and sincere. “What’s up?”

“I, uh,” he shakes his head, trying to figure out exactly what to say. “Are you busy tonight?”

“No, I’m not. Do you guys want to do something?”

“Not exactly,” he says.

Your heart beats quicker in your chest, because you think he’s about to ask you out, maybe. If not that, then at least ask you to do something with just him, which is close enough for you to consider it a win. You smile like an idiot.

He clears his throat and continues, “I wanted to know if you’d want to go out… with me.”

It’s happening, you think. Something is shifting as you speak, the feelings you’ve tried to suppress for so long are itching to come out.

“Like a date?” You ask. Just to be sure.

“Yeah, moon girl. Like a date.”

“I’d really, really like that, Eddie.”

He thinks you can probably hear the smile in his voice when he says, “yeah? Me too.”

He tells you he’ll pick you up, to wear whatever you like, not to worry about being over or underdressed, ‘you’ll look pretty either way, trust me,’ he’d said.

When you hang up, you’re trying not to jump around and squeal like a thirteen year old. It’s difficult to contain your excitement, your nerves, your hope. It feels as if a door is opening. A door to more nights like that night, more mornings with shared breakfast, more kissing, more than friends. More, more, more.

Meanwhile, Eddie’s wondering how he’ll get through the rest of the work day when his head is filled with the promise of seeing you.

After much debating on what to wear, no thanks to Eddie’s sweet yet vague instructions, the buzzer sounds in your apartment. You make your way over, one shoe on, the other in your hand. You press the button and speak.

“Hello?”

“Hey, moon girl.”

“Eddie,” he only said three words and you’re already smiling. “Come on up.”

You rush to get your other shoe on, luckily finishing up just as he knocks on your door. There’s a moment where you’re almost expecting someone else to be on the other side, to have been dreaming the whole date up. Luckily, it’s real.

Eddie stands in the hall, pretty as ever. His hair is in its usual mess of waves and curls, his classic leather jacket and denim vest duo are on, and in his hand, a bouquet of flowers.

He notices you looking at them and holds them out, “these are for you.”

“This is really nice, Eddie. Thank you.”

You take them from him, holding them up to your nose to smell them (and also to hide how wide your grin is). He stands by the door, a ball of nerves, and watches you put them into a big cup, because you never had a reason to buy a vase until now. He decides next time, he’ll deliver the flowers in a vase just so you have one.

He holds your hand on the way down, opens the car door for you and makes sure your legs are tucked inside before closing it, he tells you in at least three different ways how beautiful you look during the car ride alone, and he drives with a hand resting on your thigh, your fingers toying with his rings.

He’s an absolute dream.

He takes you to a small restaurant, fancy enough for a date—though you think being with Eddie, no matter where, would be enough for you—but casual enough that you aren’t too worried about the people around you being judgemental. You sit in a booth and instead of across, Eddie sits beside you. He keeps a hand on your thigh during your meal, too.

In his car once more, you’re sitting in the parking lot with music playing through the speakers. Eddie hasn’t made a move to start driving you yet, and you haven’t even thought about going home. You haven’t ever been on an official date before, but if you had, you’d say with absolute certainty that this is the best one.

You sit sideways in the passenger seat so you can look at him, and Eddie’s head is turned toward you, his cheek against the headrest.

“Have you had a girlfriend before?” You ask.

You don’t know why the thought comes out of your mouth. You’d been thinking it, though. Robin’s always hinting at how different he is with you, at the fact that Eddie’s never brought a girl he’s liked around his friends. You’re curious.

“No, I haven’t. Why do you seem surprised?”

“It’s just, you’re really good at this.”

“At what, sweetheart?”

“Like, going on a date. And… other stuff, too.”

He shifts in his seat, resting an elbow on the center console and leaning closer to you. Much, much closer. Your noses are almost touching and you can see the way his eyelashes frame his eyes.

He nudges his nose against yours, “what stuff?”

You know he’s teasing you, trying to make you give him more detail because it’ll make you go all shy or embarrassed. To him, it’s cute, and he’s been trying not to kiss you all night. He was going to wait until he dropped you off like a proper gentleman, but he figures making it through dinner is good enough.

“Eddie,” you draw his name out, almost whining.

“Tell me. Come on, please? You can’t just bring it up and not share.”

The hand of his that isn’t resting between you comes up to push your hair over your shoulder, then slides around to hold the back of your neck loosely.

“God, okay. Um, you’re a good kisser. Like, really good,” he leans in and pecks you for that, pulling away just enough to let you keep talking, your lips still brushing against his. “And, I love your hands.”

“My hands?”

“They’re very talented. You know, ‘cause you’re an artist, and all.”

He huffs and shakes his head. Enough of the teasing, he leans in and kisses you deeper this time. Your hands move and grip the sides of his jacket, holding him close to you.

You kiss, and kiss, and kiss, and it’s enough to have you panting and warm all over. His hand squeezes your neck gently before he pulls away, his lips slick with spit, swollen and darker from your kiss. You’re sure yours don’t look much different.

Eddie drops his forehead against yours, takes both of your hands in his, “do you want to go home?”

You shake your head.

“Can I show you my place, then?”

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

He’s not saying it to get you in his bed, though there’s no doubt that would be a bonus, but he doesn’t want this date to end. There’s also a part of him that wants to see you in his apartment, let you into more of his life.

He’s only ever been to yours, and he doesn’t have the whole group over at his, so you’ve never seen it. He thinks, if he’s really going to give this a shot, he might as well let another wall crumble down for you.

The drive there is fairly quick, and yet again, his hand finds your thigh. This time, though, he lets his fingers hold on, rather than just rest in your lap. You like it a lot.

Eddie’s apartment isn’t what you expect. You thought it’d be decorated like the shop: dark colors, black and white art, hints of red. His place is much warmer, much homier. It suits him perfectly.

He has a huge record collection, a whole wall of his living room dedicated to the shelves and the player itself. He also has a shelf for his books. Some more worn than others, letting you know which are his favorites of the bunch.

You trail your fingers along the spines, admiring his collection. He lets you, standing not too far away, enjoying how you look in his space.

His bathroom is much like yours, small and plain, but it’s tidy save for some products of his strewn about the counter. His bedroom is so obviously his that it makes you smile. From the rings and other jewelry sitting atop his dresser, to his dark gray bedding, to the guitars that are displayed proudly, to the desk pushed into a corner with pages upon pages spread about.

You gravitate towards that desk without a second thought.

There’s something so intimate about seeing his art station in his home, much different to his office at the shop. Here, he can let it be a mess, and can draw whatever he pleases.

“Is it okay if I look at these?” You ask.

“‘Course,” he says. He walks up behind you, lets his hands hold your sides loosely and rests his chin on your shoulder. You revel in the warmth of his chest against your back.

You pick up some of the loose pages, looking at the different pieces. Skulls and flowers and landscapes and so much more. He can do it all, you think. You can see so much detail, the strokes of his pencil, and it’s clear how much talent he has.

“These are all beautiful, Eddie.”

He turns his head to peck your cheek, “thank you, sweetheart.”

You reach for a worn sketchbook next, the cover peeling at the edges and the pages nearly full. It flips open to where it seems to have been used the most, the spine broken. What you see makes you gasp quietly, but Eddie’s close enough to hear it.

Covering the pages are drawings of the moon. Over and over again he drew them. Some are big, taking up an entire page, and some are scrawled into corners and empty spaces, like he couldn’t stop adding them. All of these drawings for your tattoo, and he’d only shown you a few.

“It’s weird, right?” Eddie says, hiding his face in your neck.

If he’s honest, he forgot that sketchbook was even there. He couldn’t forget about the drawings you found—you’d taken up so much of his thoughts after meeting that he couldn’t stop drawing the fucking moon for you. There are so many and he’s embarrassed by it, because he really was screwed after the first day even when he refused to see it.

“No, it’s- these are all for me?”

“Couldn’t stop thinking ‘bout you, so I drew these,” he speaks into your skin. “I was trying to avoid my feelings for you, but clearly, that didn’t work. You wouldn’t get out of my head and I had no idea why.”

You turn in his hold, leaving the sketchbook open on his desk. You look at him, the way his cheeks are pink at your finding of his drawings, the way his eyes flick between yours.

“I love them. Every single one,” I love you. “I thought about you a lot, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. So much. You made me nervous at first,” you admit, your hands fiddling with the collar of his shirt.

“I’m not used to, um, opening up to people and all. I’ve never even been in a relationship,” his hands come up and grab yours, like he needs the comfort. “You make me want to try, though.”

You have to say it. There’s no way you can’t, not when he’s looking at you with those eyes filled with something.

“I love you, Eddie,” his eyes widen, he freezes. “You don’t have to say it back or anything, I just really needed to tell you. You’re the first sense of comfort I’ve found since I moved, and I don’t think I would have felt at home without you and I love you.”

No matter how scared he is to be with you, because he wants to be someone worth being with and he doesn’t know what he’s doing, he can’t ignore the fact that he loves you right back. And he hasn’t said those words to many people in his life.

It’s big for him, so big that he’s stumbling over his words but he tries anyway.

“Oh my god,” he kisses your knuckles, “I love you, sweetheart. My moon girl, fuck, I love you, too. I’ve never done this before, but there’s nobody else I’d want. Nobody.”

You feel so many things at once. Relief and happiness and a thousand fireworks in your gut and in your heart. You grab his face with your hands and drag him down to kiss you.

It’s broken by your smiles, your teeth bumping into each other but neither of you care one bit. He holds your wrists gently, returns your kiss with ease. He’s delicate with his touch, so, so perfect with his lips on yours.

He only pulls away to ask, “will you be mine? Be my girlfriend?”

You nod vehemently, “been yours since you kissed me the first time. Probably even before that.”

You’re not worried about the ‘told you so’s you’re sure to get from your friends, or what happens next because you know whatever it is, Eddie’s gonna be there.

“Think you had me the minute you started talking ‘bout the moon.” He just didn’t know it yet.

༄

if you enjoyed, please leave a reblog or let me know what you thought! it helps loads more than you think <3

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twstowo · 4 months

Note

Hello! I absolutely love your work it's always such a joy to read them! So, when I saw your asks were open, I had to ask fast! Can I request for a fluffy work where Jade, Rook, and Vil are painting their S/O? You can add on more if you need to.

I hope you have a nice day! ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗SYNOPSIS: They paint/sketch you.

♡︎I almost exploded on Vil’s part.

♡︎Includes: Jade, Rook and Vil

♡︎Warning: Jade smirking

⋆⋅☆Jade

I can't picture him painting you, but I see him having some sketches of you in a notebook, probably filled with information about mushrooms.

After classes ended, you had a habit of lingering at Monstro Lounge. You'd order a drink, often covered by Jade's generosity. There, you would study, awaiting Jade's arrival whenever he was free. On one particular day, he observed you from a distance, engrossed in reading potionology books for an upcoming test. Although you were engaged in a mundane activity, he felt an unusual urge to capture you in his notebook, akin to documenting a rare mushroom.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

"Jade, is that me?" you questioned as you spotted a peculiar doodle of yourself in his mushroom-filled notebook. The two of you had gone on a hike, and to assist him in identifying mushrooms, he handed you his notebook. To your surprise, amidst the detailed fungi descriptions, you discovered a drawing of your face stuffed inside a book. Much to your dismay, Jade responded with a smirk rather than a straightforward answer.

⋆⋅☆Rook

Now Rook would be the type to paint you and have those paintings of you on the walls of his room, no shame at all. If someone entered his room, he would spend hours talking about the artworks, explaining how divine you looked to the point that he had to capture it for eternity.

He would find you in the botanical garden, staring at some flowers, and out of nowhere, you'd see him with a canvas and an easel running towards you. You have no idea how he managed to get those so fast, as you were just talking seconds ago.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

“Is this really necessary?” You were already embarrassed by the fact that he wanted to paint you, but the constant remarks about your beauty made you almost pass out.

“Oh, mon Trickster, I only wish to capture forever what I deem worthy of being seen by millions, as your beauty is undoubtedly impossible to-” And he kept on talking about how much he loved you, how amazing you were, how breathtaking you looked, and how his actions were undoubtedly more than worth it. With each word, you felt your legs growing weaker.

⋆⋅☆Vil

This might start with Rook wanting to paint the two of you together as a cute couple since he was your ultimate shipper. However, Vil never seemed pleased with the paintings, stating that something was missing. You thought he was talking about him not looking as good as he wanted, but after some days, he asks you to come over, and to your surprise, he tells you that he wants to paint you.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

“Potato, stay still!” By the Seven, you only wanted to scratch your nose. It had been almost an hour, and you were starting to feel really hungry. You'd have to curse Grim for wasting money on his cans of tuna, leaving you with only sandwiches until the smell made you feel sick. You stared around his room, waiting for the work to be done. After all, it surely couldn’t take that much more. “Come see it.” You saw him lower the brush as he looked at you with a smile, and as you approached, you had to grab your jaw or it would drop to the floor. The way he had drawn you had nothing on Rook’s style. You looked so beautiful, it almost didn’t feel like that was you. So, that was how Vil saw you? And he was just mad that Rook couldn’t see the same thing he did.

“Oh, Vil!” You sounded so lovesick as you gave him a hug and a kiss.

#twst #disney twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst reader #twst x reader #x reader #disney twisted wonderland #jade leech x reader #twst jade #jade leech #rook hunt #twst rook #rook hunt x reader #vil schoenheit #vil shoenheit x reader #twst vil

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cozycottagetarot · 4 months

Text

What Do They Daydream About You?

How To Pick A Pile:

Everyone has their own technique for choosing a 'pile'. My recommendation is to clear your mind and focus on each image for a few seconds. The image you find yourself coming back to even when you focus on the other images is the pile for you.

Quick notes on this reading:

I'm experimenting with a different style. -- I've been working on shorter, less structured, formal pacs (and some longer ones). I'm not sure how I feel about it but I'd like to hear your thoughts too!

I apologise for any errors. -- My immune system and I have literally been at war for weeks, so know if there are any errors, I probably missed it while wincing in pain. 😅

It's purely for entertainment purposes. -- Don't think I need to explain more. Take what resonates be it all of it, some of it or none at all.

PILE 1

14:44 as I pulled the last card, maybe 444 is of importance to you at the moment. Knight in shining armour vibes. Noble acts or intentions of just sweeping you off your feet. Introducing you to their friends and or family. Daydreams of big celebrations of being with you, internally and externally. For some, they daydream about celebrating the news of having a child with you. Finding peace after long struggles... starting anew with you. Domestic bliss, as in chilling at home with someone you love, not doing much of anything. Or simply enjoying the mundane tasks together. Going for walks. Having a cup of tea or coffee together. Peppering your skin with kisses... maybe physical touch is their love language. The ghost of their fingertips on your skin. Heart-to-heart conversations. Falling into a routine with you. The magic of embarking on new beginnings with you.

PILE 2

North Star Vibes. Holding out hope that they make it to you. Trying to make life better so they can show up for you. They daydream about how you make them stronger, about you being a good influence on them. It's like the thought of you soothes them when they're struggling. Dreaming that happiness is coming in the form of you. Lots of fiery energy. You're a symbol of hope. Rediscovering what they had lost with you. Feels like someone who has been through a lot. Playfulness. Daydreaming about you is embodying those feelings that seem long forgotten. I know I keep repeating the same thing over and over, but I'm not getting anything more than that (even when I go back to the literal meaning of the cards) so I pulled some love messages. There's the cards 'twin flame', 'finding myself' and 'still listening'. My interpretation is that daydreaming about you holds a mirror up to themselves which inspires them to look deeper within and figure out what they want and who they want to be. They could also find solace in music, they may have a song or playlist that makes them feel more connected to you.

PILE 3

If you were drawn to pile 2, consider checking out that pile as well too. 333. The number 3 could hold some sort of significance.

Dreaming of an equal. Someone to keep them balanced and bring a new perspective. They could feel as though (or know) some kind of scrutiny is possible, but they spend their time dreaming of overcoming it. There could be cultural differences or for some it's a matter of being in a same-sex relationship or anything that goes against what may be more commonly accepted. If it's of any significance, the red string of fate (two different decks mention it). Power couple vibes. Being able to maintain a sense of youthfulness in the relationship. Someone who won't try to take advantage of them, who'll push them to be better and vice versa, who'll look out for them. Someone to heal with and understand that they are still healing. They could dream of having a child with you or starting a family in whatever format that may look like to both of you. Daydreams of warmth & protection. Giving and receiving. You could possibly meet at a concert or connect over music.

PILE 4

I did a repull to make sure I was reading the cards right (it was stormy) and the same cards came out after reshuffling (minus one card). I feel like this person has been reborn. Who they were is not who they are now (or when you meet them). They could daydream of being divinely guided towards you. Someone spiritual or religious. At the very least finding a connection with something (a concept) greater than them. Daydreams of being guided towards happiness. They had a teardown and rebuild of who they are. They could be from a different location, you could meet when travelling across a large body of water. It feels like they're dreaming of coming in hot. They're paving the way for their happy ending. Take it as you will, but instead of a 'damsel in distress' (regardless of gender, it's just women on the cards depicting forging on) type of story, it's one of those ones where it's like "you know what, I'll save myself and I'll chase after my happy ending". Actually, I get a-spec vibes as well and that this person could be a platonic love or a strong platonic bond. It could even be you respectively. But the energy is one of being inspired and ever-lasting bonds. A new resolve, coming home to oneself, resting in the knowledge that the future is going to be good because you'll make it so.

#quick pick #pick a card #pick a pile #pac reading #tarot reading #cozycottagetarot

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dadsbongos · 4 months

Text

i eat your skin - f.megumi

part of the jjk movie marathon event / movie selection … warnings - cunnilingus (fem reader), title sounds like vore smut but it isn't i promise word count - 3.7 K / rating - R

Megumi braces his hands on his knees, brows pinched tight in preemptive annoyance. Satoru spindles over him, shadowing the younger man almost completely - and it only serves to irritate Megumi that he’d refused to sit down. Furiously determined to forever humiliate his former pupil, Megumi assumes.

Or, he would, if Satoru hadn’t actually agreed to give him advice about a little… situation.

“Alright, now when you see her, look at me- seriously, look at me, Megumi,” Satoru’s face is lethally drawn, usual bright grin tugged low and serious with furrowed brows to match, “Megumi, you cannot let her intimidate you,” Megumi opens his mouth, a vile retort slithers back down his throat when Satoru interrupts, “No, I know you, and you’ll feel all sick,” he mocks a frown, even pretending to wipe tears from his eyes, “You’ll get all nervous. But you cannot let her intimidate you out of it.”

“I’ll hardly die asking her out,” Megumi rolls his eyes, one hand lathering the sweat in his palms against his sweatpants and the other scratching the back of his neck, “Maybe this just isn’t a good idea…”

“And what? Be a miserable wimp the rest of your life?” Satoru folds his arms across his chest, “You’ve liked her since you were first years.”

“And?”

“You’re graduates now!”

“So?”

“‘So,’” Satoru mimics Megumi’s sulking nature, voice deep and neanderthal-ish in nature, “Be greedier, kid!” he flicks the younger man’s forehead, “You’ll die one day. You’ll die. Whether it be on a mission, or in your hospital bed as a diseased old man - you can’t stop it. So, why deprive yourself of something you really want when it all ends the same?”

Megumi can’t exactly pinpoint the reason he even came to his old legal guardian for help over, say, Nanami. He definitely should’ve gone to Nanami, at least he could’ve given Megumi genuine advice that isn’t some children’s show morale of “just tell her how you feel!” - he could’ve done that any day.

When Megumi opens his mouth to protest, Satoru flicks him again.

“You think your special one,” Megumi gags loudly at the title, and Satoru pays it no mind, “is gonna sit around her entire life not having fun and being young? Getting dates?” Satoru nods to himself when Megumi doesn’t reply, “Duh.”

“I want this to be special,” Megumi insists, both hands coming to rest in his lap now, he squeezes them together, lacing his fingers and imagining how yours would look with him instead, “I want- “

He wants and wants and wants and does nothing.

He needs to be someone you simply can’t fathom saying no to, he needs it so bad his stomach churns just like Satoru said it would.

“Alright, I know it can be difficult for you - not being me, after all,” a large hand claps on Megumi’s shoulders and he looks up to see the beaming face attached, “But trust me, kid, this whole idea of a ‘special’ confession is archaic bullshit compared to just being yourself.”

“I thought girls liked special confessions?”

“Sexist: not all girls automatically like the same things,” his former teacher shakes his head, sighing out each disappointed fiber trapped in his soul, “And if she doesn’t accept a plain, Megumi-style date proposition, then her shock and awe over a sick-as-hell graphic novel confession isn’t going to make for a healthy relationship.”

“Hm,” Megumi bites back frustrated curses, taking the words and molding them into a more conventional way that actually makes sense. He nods, “Okay.”

“Exactly,” Satoru stands back, giving Megumi room to rise from his bed, “Oh, but one thing that does help?” the older man grins wickedly, “Eat her out. Direct line to a woman’s heart is through eating her pussy.”

“Shut up,” Megumi huffs, pointing at his wide-open bedroom door, “Shut up. Shut up and get the hell out.”

“Jeez,” Satoru yanks at the already loose collar of his plain black shirt, “I thought we left teen angst behind. Just give it some thought! And also, I wanted to ask- “

Megumi huffs, falling back onto his bed, still pointing at the door.

“If,” and in true fashion, Satoru continues, maybe even a little louder (just to prove a point), “you wanted to watch a movie?”

“No,” Megumi immediately answers.

“C’mon! It’s this or paperwork I have to do.”

Megumi’s eye roll gives Satoru no more room for pleading, and so he stalks back to the living room. Dragging his socked feet over a shaggy black rug towards the door, he takes a final peek over his shoulder at the boy on his bed. Stupid mouth in a stupid pout and stupid nose forcing stupid crocodile sniffles, Satoru acts out a picturesque performance. And if his blindfold were off, Megumi is certain he’d catch big blue eyes framed by batting white lashes.

“No, “ Megumi rolls his eyes again, “‘m going out.”

…

Blushy top with faded blue bell bottoms and a shiny, thin chain that dangles across your chest, Megumi’s eyes flit away from your figure just as quick as they’d found you. Everything’s a little murky under the purple LEDs, but he thinks you’ve worn that before. He thinks you’re somehow more beautiful now. He looks away, snaking through a narrow, picture-framed hallway at Yuuji’s back to this house’s kitchen. There are no light strips strapped across the kitchen walls, simple and plain and unflattering fluorescent bulbs send a gentle cream wash over the walls.

With only a handful of straggling bodies leaning against peeling-edged faux wood cabinets and spotted countertops, there’s more room to breathe than in the hall. Red Solo cups from every teen movie nightmare decorate hands and unnerving corners. Some more anxious part of him wants to reach out and push every precarious ruby further back into secure landing, but he doesn’t.

Two women in complimentary spaghetti strap dresses flounce out of the kitchen with looped arms. They’re sunk into the plum tank until Megumi can’t see them at all anymore.

“Oh, like that!” you muse, nudging your chin towards a pair in matching floral print dresses that reach about mid-thigh, “Exactly my point.”

“That’s hardly 70s influenced,” the man in front of you - Jirou? Junto? Jouji? you don’t really recall - shakes his head, “Just flowers.”

“No, no, look at the trim,” you’re trying your hardest not to point but this guy just cannot pinpoint the details in your mind to save his life, “It’s flowy and mesh. Sort of. That’s a little more flower child era, right?”

“I guess, if your only experience in that fashion was movies,” you huff at the response and he laughs in the face of such exasperation.

“Whatever! You’re so difficult.”

“Hobby,” it’s so plain out of his lips. Like you should somehow be expecting that snark.

“Oh my God…” you can hardly believe someone could be so obtuse. A contrarian just for the fun of it, “And are you normally invited to parties for that?”

“Oh, no,” his tone, again, betrays some delusion that you should already know the answer, but this time you do already know. Who invites a conversation killer to an event? “I got dragged here by a friend. Don’t even know who the host is.”

You snicker, one hand smothering the sight of your mouth, “That makes more sense.”

Megumi can see the hand that binds, you usually don’t string it up around those you’re close with. Like Yuuji and Nobara and Maki and Miwa from Kyoto and your friends that live closer to the coast and the friends that don’t and your parents and him. So you’d think he’d know better than to let a big, gangly, clawed, green beast sprout and grow and suck away at his gut.

Even though that hand is a sign of some rising desire to be out of that conversation, he still hates being across the room when it happens. Because that’s still some semblance of a shining star behind the flesh. Some laugh or smile he’s not next to.

And it isn’t like he hates when you’re out with others. What he hates is being in the same room with someone potentially more captivating than he is.

He hopes you like him best because he’s the most familiar and drawing, and it’s disturbing when someone else might be more homely and more charming and more absorbing. He hates the curdling illness of jealousy and he hates to be this way when you two aren’t even together, but most of all he hates that maybe you’ll prefer someone else simply because they’re better at his craft than he is.

So Megumi watches and rots quietly with thick, spindling vines spreading and tangling him to the kitchen doorway as you talk to a guy whose name he doesn’t know. It’s pathetic and waning most unbearably.

“Stop staring, it’s weird,” Yuuji chastises, chunking part of his weight against Megumi’s side, an elbow shelved on Megumi’s shoulder, “Just go up and say something, if you wanna talk to her.”

“Yeah, it’s that easy,” Megumi jerks through the vines and into the hungry waters of a living room party with a snapping, starved crowd before finding the optimal spot: a plain wall with no posters or pictures to snag and smack down.

Yuuji trails after, his white shirt reflecting a blinding shade of lavender from beneath his puffer jacket. Much easier to track down than Megumi’s gloomy, funeral-grade attire. Yuuji capitalizes on the empty space so ugly at Megumi’s side, staking claim to the wall with a huff, “It is, by the way. You two are friends. Go tell her you’re here.”

“But then I’d have to,” Megumi’s mouth zips shut, head tilting as he snakes a hand through some imaginary crowd.

“I guess,” Yuuji wants to shake Megumi at times like this. He wants to shake you too, sometimes. But mostly he imagines squeezing Megumi’s shoulders and smacking him around, but he never does.

Maybe just the first part.

All out of love.

“Okay,” so Yuuji pivots, swerving in front of his best friend and taking one shoulder in each hand, “You need to do something or you’re going to sit here and be pouty, dude.”

“I’m not pouty.”

“Biggest lie in Tokyo, brother,” Yuuji purses his lips, eyes flitting to where you are, “I’ll get her over here if you really don’t want to.”

“Hm?” Megumi’s brows furrow, neck craning closer as if he could somehow mishear the man.

“Just pretend to be busy or some shit and I’ll brave the crowd,” Yuuji goes to walk away, suddenly pausing and placing a hand over Megumi’s heart, “And if I don’t return, sing songs for me by a nice lake every anniversary.”

“Whatever,” Megumi knocks away the hand but is already pulling out his phone to perform the charade. His eyes lock onto the screen and he soldiers on to not rip them away and give slight that this was planned.

…

“Do you think I could maybe get your number?”

“Oh!” no, God no - you wish you were better at saying that, “Uh,” it’s not even as if you dislike this guy, you just don’t think any conversation with him could amount past what it has.

Wow, you’re a pain in the ass! Yeah but it’s funny, right? Not if it’s on purpose. Especially if it’s on purpose! Sure, if that’s what you think. You do think it’s funny, right? Sure. Come on, it is! Sure.

And dry replies make you want to claw your eyes out more when you have to give them than when you receive them.

So when the bony fingers of Yuuji creep upon your side, it’s like the first drink of water after sifting through thick bowls and hills of sandy desert. He leans his head down into your peripheral, grinning brightly, “Miss me?”

“Yuuji!” you cheer, turning to… Junsei? and laying a flat palm under Yuuji’s chin, “This is my buddy, who I didn’t know was coming.”

“I texted you,” he pinches your side, “Fushiguro’s busy, so I’m fetching you for the night,” and you wonder if he might feel the stiffness of your muscles and the rigid air, “Sorry, man, but she’s got serious business tonight!”

“Oh,” Junzo! Junzo’s forehead crinkles, nose wrinkling at the bluntness of this cocky new stranger, “Uh…”

“See you around,” maybe it’s a lie, maybe it isn’t. You wave and let Yuuji keep you pressed to his side. You wait until you’re certain the surrounding affairs of other people drown whatever you could say to Yuuji, “Thank you for that. He was asking for my number and I just didn’t know what to say…”

“No,’” he shrugs.

“Oh, like you could’ve done that.”

“I could’ve!”

But Yuuji can do anything, so that isn’t fair.

“‘gumi!” you cheer upon getting close to the boy, arms splaying wide before wringing yourself around his neck, “I was worried you weren’t coming!”

He hesitates before having the misfortune to hear Satoru’s words once again. Be greedier. Be greedier. So he gently settles both hands on your back, pushing you chest-to-chest, “Yeah, well, Itadori wouldn’t let me stay in.”

“Poor baby,” you step back, and Megumi takes notice in how you maintain your hands’ position over his shoulders, nails picking at fluff on his shirt.

Megumi, regrettably, can still hear Satoru in the back of his head. Greedier, greedier, greedier. It chokes him up, the idea of selfishly taking you for himself. But what really grips him is the terrible way your gaze flits from his face to other men - unintentionally, he’s sure. But it drives him wild all the same.

“I hate big parties,” Megumi boldly cradles the bend of your waist with his hand, fingers splaying wide over the curve. He tugs you closer, thighs nearly brushing, “Crowd’s a pain in the ass.”

“Ah, no, c’mon, what’s that Great Gatsby quote?” who’s to say, he hasn't read that book, “‘I like large parties. They’re so intimate…’” you shrug, bottom lip tugging between your teeth when he doesn’t show any recognition, “‘At small parties there isn’t any privacy.’”

“You actually remembered that shit?”

You titter coyly, “Maybe I saw it on one of those book quotes videos. Maybe I remembered it.”

“Well, it’s a stupid quote. There’s too much noise at big parties, it’s hard to hear people.”

“You hear me just fine,” that’s just because he’s leaning closer and trying harder than he does for most people, “Besides, I like it. At big parties you can just fuck off and do your own thing, you know? At small parties there’s this expectation to be around everyone and interact with everyone and be having fun with the group.”

Finally, it seems to click, he nods slowly, “You like to get away from the crowd?”

“Yeah,” you scratch the side of your arm, then your neck, and it’s so odd how just thinking about how uncomfortable your skin is that you can get so itchy, “Hard to do that when the crowd’s five people and a dog.”

“Well,” Megumi can feel Yuuji’s stare, and it takes everything in him to not knock the kid up his skull, “If you wanna get away, I’m sure - uh,” he’s suddenly humiliated by his own hubris, “I’m sure there’s room… upstairs…”

You grace him with a patient nod, hands lowering from his shoulders to lace your fingers together, “I’m sure there is.”

…

“So…”

Megumi nods, head slowly tilting so he’s staring up at you through his long lashes, “So.”

You lean closer, shoulder pressing and nose bumping against his, “So?”

The heat from Megumi’s cheeks wavers over you, his flesh ripe with crimson. You want to bite him. Leave a terrible mark that he couldn’t possibly cover up; maybe he’d let it bleed through his dark shirt. Maybe he’d let you lick it clean.

“You look nice,” he tucks his face down, heated skin now flush against your top. His brows furrow, uncertain, “Really nice.”

Megumi wonders what Satoru or Yuuji would do. They’re greedier than him by nature. More outgoing.

They would’ve done something years ago.

Suddenly, you grin. All sharp teeth and nails pricking over his thigh, through his pants. Your eyes stare down at him over the bridge of your nose, and you lean closer - smothering any space he’d initially put between your bodies.

“Are you gonna do something about it?”

Megumi’s eyes widen, warmth beating over his face and the back of his neck. He flails for a response, trapped under your piercing gaze, before finally settling on a response that he hopes pleases you.

“Do you want me to?”

You frown; something in his chest stings, a chord pulled awry. The tug of your lips is all a ploy, a mesmerizing color to disguise venom, “Don’t you want to, ‘gumi?” you pull away, leaning back with your hands pressed to the mattress below, “Don’t you want me?”

A cold breeze from this stranger’s open window takes up residence across Megumi’s sweltering skin. He hates it. He wants to get up from the bed altogether and slam the window shut. He wants to take you in both hands and sink himself into the softness of your skin. He thinks you’d be savory.

He wants to be certain.

So both of his hands mold to your hips, melting his exposed skin to yours.

Fingers dipping into the waistband of your bottoms, he bats his eyelashes and tucks his lower lip between fangs. He may draw blood. He cares not.

The oxygen is thin; hardly refreshing.

Megumi swallows the pooling want on his tongue, his fingers twitch against you, “Can I- “

“‘gumi…” you flatten yourself onto your back, hips tilting up into his palms, “Show me you want me.”

“Okay,” Megumi nods, air forced out of his throat through swollen hunger, “Okay.”

Once he’s gotten your pants off, Megumi presses open kisses against the inside of your thighs, following the swell to its natural apex. He digs the jab of his nose into you, lips impolitely fluttering against the seat of your panties before dipping his tongue out. Lolling the soft, soaked muscle over the clinging fabric, he feels his chest clench at how you rock your hips down into his face.

He feels one of your hands wind into his messy hair, carding through the softness. He wants to make you tug it - pull cruelly and grind against his face. Take what he gives and selfishly demand more.

Megumi groans heartily into your clothed cunt when the slickness of his saliva pulls your wetness from the cloth; when the unabashed taste of you meets his tongue.

He nearly rips your panties down your legs, settling it in a ball at his side. Heart leaping up into his jaw at the mere thought of getting his tongue into you.

Laving his tongue between your folds, Megumi licks up to your clit and circles the bud - his hips jerking down into the plush mattress when you jolt up and tug his hair. He pulls his head back only to pucker his lips and drool onto your hole, adding to the sloshing wetness before steadying his shaky fingers against you.

Sucking your clit into his mouth, Megumi begins softly. Caressing the bundle of nerves with his warm tongue, blending flat, broad strokes with precision dances of the muscle over you. Meanwhile, he slicks his middle finger into your hole and moans in response to your gasp.

When he’s sure you’re wet and stretched enough, he adds a second finger and curls them both upwards. The muscles in his arm will be aching tomorrow, but he shoves that to the back of his mind. He presses and scissors and dips inside you until the pads of his fingers find sponge, and he hits there, and there again. And again. And again. And again.

He hits there until you’re fully babbling, gushing against his swollen, pink lips and chin. And he’s starting to babble back.

Vibrations are loosely strewn together as ‘yes’ and ‘please’ and ‘cum on me’ are bound against your clit as he nuzzles closer into your heat. Burying himself between your thighs and finding himself releasing a moan into your cunt when your thighs clenched tightly around his head. The fat of your thighs snug over his ears.

Releasing your clit from between his lips with a soft ‘pop’, Megumi flays his tongue onto the exposed nerve. Hot puffs of air leave him with each groan and whimper as his desperation to make you cum hammers over him.

Finally, you yank his hair again and snap your hips into his tongue; cunt sucking his fingers in even deeper. You squeeze around him, back arching, and his name singing from your lips.

Megumi unfurls his fingers as your cum splashes out onto his waiting tongue and chin, riding you through the hurls of pleasure until your twitching legs crash back onto the mattress. Slowly, he slides his fingers out of you before licking up your excess release from the divots in your thighs and your cunt.

Unwinding your fingers, you settle for soothing his stinging scalp with gentle pets.

Eventually sitting up, Megumi gasps for air as you do, staring down at his fingers. Shining with your wetness.

“Still hungry?” you tease, voice ripped at the edges.

“Actually?” Megumi shrugs, “A little.”

The cocky air has dissipated from your body. Once tense and lively limbs were now useless against the bed.

Megumi jams both fingers into his mouth and sucks off your cum.

“Insatiable!” you huff.

Rouge has overtaken Megumi’s cheeks - worse than before - and he can’t meet your eyes after having swallowed what remained of your soak. He leans over onto his elbow to avoid crushing you, “Only when it’s you… I don’t,” he waves his hand around, “do this often…”

“Really? Could’ve fooled me.”

Megumi has to hide his grin, almost embarrassed to enjoy being praised, choosing to take up time looking around the room you’d shoved him into.

Idol posters with one constant member litter the walls. Pink concert tickets cover the desk. And many pictures with the same two people overwhelm Megumi’s sight. He feels an unsettled chill scrawl over his skin.

“Todo is going to kill me,” he grimaces.

“Was it worth it?”

Megumi doesn’t take long to respond, already trying to think of where and when he can get you under him again, “Definitely.”

Megumi’s proper death is drowning via punani tsunami *thumbs up emoji*

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi smut #megumi x you #megumi fluff #fushiguro smut #fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen movie marathon event

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kristinhateslife · 17 days

Text

Okay so last night I was having an "art style panic"? I guess you could call it that? But I was feeling really bad, so i started drawing other peoples art styles and picking points and peaces out of it!

I did this last night when I was really tired and i used a pen so the drawings may not be how i usually do my drawings haha

Ok so first up we have @emjoyzhos-ej !! I recently just found your account but you have a very cool style!!

•Your skull shape is very unique, very rectangle

•your lines are very sketchy (most people I follow have this trait in their art..)

•when you color it looks like you mayy have rook inspiration from itsxroxannex? Idk i wrote that down, maybe it's not true but I guess i thought that last night

But I love your style! Your art is so cool and I had fun trying to replicate it!

Next we have @milkybnnuy ! Omg so I really like you!! Your art is sooo good

•You draw a lot of fell, so i made the drawing of killer like how you made that one fell killer drawing

•when you color you have a very paintly-style and that's cool!!

•your skull shape reminds me of an egg (i guess thats why i said "egg head" last night)

Up in the top I wrote "I did not replicate your art properly enough," and that's true! Your art is so unique and different from what i usually drew so i had a hard time replicating it! But nonetheless, i had a fun time trying and hope you ain't disappointed lol

Btw- I really like the way you draw your fuzz on hoods!! So satisfying to look at!

And now we go onto @voidzphere !

I've followed you for a while, and you're cool to be around and I like when you post! Though i had a hard time finding the art hidden around, I still was able to replicate it (luckily i chose to draw killer for this haha)

•so I see that you usually draw/post doodles, unless i just didn't scroll down far enough haha (plz tell me if you have drawn something big i wanna see)

•I noticed you have more pointy and thicker lines

•you have a certain way you draw your Skulls, I can't really put a shape or object here to describe it

Even though I couldn't find more drawings, I still tried! I hope you like it, friend, cause u cool

Here is @cherrio-krispz ! I just started following you last night, like seriously I had to search you up just now to figure out who you were cuz I forgot, but when i saw your art I immediately recognized you

•you have a very recognizable style!

•again, i did not replicate well.

•very painty-like when color

•sketchy lines, seems like you don't do line art?

•I like ur skulls, they look like skulls

OMG I'VE BEEN WAITING TO TALK ABOUT YOU. YOU. YOUUU. @somegrumpynerd OMG YOUUUUUU. I REALLY LIKE YOUR ARTTT.

•I LIKE IT

•very cartoonish

• noticable art style

•thick lineart

I LOVE seeing posts when they come out!!! They're really really cool and make me feel so happy when I see them! Keep going because you're so cool!

@spookeri haiiii

You're here tooo

i like ur art :)))))) a LOT . Same as the last guy, I get very excited when you post. Your DTIYS were fun, and yeye... Yeah

•Very flat colors

•flat lines

•cool looking skulls

•you have an "air-brush" shading style (i guess you could call it), which isn't a bad thing! Do what you want to do! But maybe try out cell-shading? Idk you don't have to, but idk i feel like cell-shading fits your art style

Also if you look in the bottom you can see a scratched out drawing, that was my first attempt haha

You can see it in the drawing below

@wyllaztopia !! I like your art :)) you have a very noticeable style and when you post I get excited as well!

•clean lines

•you make skulls longer than how other people make their skulls in this last

•I liked replicating it

Idk what else to say ... Its just all really cool!!

And last but not the worst

My art style!

My art style is

•cool

•easy to draw

•and funny lookin'

What did i learn from this whole thing i did? That everyone has a unique style, that even if they try to change it it still stays theirs and it's still unique

I also found out that everyone, small artists and big artists, has flaws! It's comforting to know that everyone has flaws so I know I'm just learning and getting better everyday

Another thing I got from this is that everyone's styles are always changing and warping. But thats fine! Because everyone's moving and changing, and the worlds always moving and changing!

So, don't be so hard on yourself if you're struggling to draw or find an art style, how you draw is unique to you and you'll like it one day

Just keep drawing everyday and you'll get there.

I suggest doing this challenge, on paper or digital, wether you color it or not, or post ot or not!

It's great to try out.

#art #sans au #kristinhateslife #kris007 #killertale #killer sans

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misseviehyde · 1 month

Text

THE PASSENGER

Nervously biting her lip, Donna looked around the fetish store she had accidentally wandered into and desperately looked for the exit.

She didn't know what had drawn her into Evie's Emporium in the first place, but now she was inside she could see it wasn't her kind of shop at all. The small and mousy young woman blushed bright red as she walked past a rack of sex toys. She was famously insecure and easily embarrassed, so this shop was her idea of Hell.

She needed a dress to wear tonight for dinner with her boyfriends boss, but none of the tight latex and fetish outfits she could see hanging from racks would do. Everything in here looked like something some sort of super confident slut might wear, not her style at all.

Donna was tiny, flatchested and average looking. She had a very submissive personality - in fact her friends all mocked her for being such a pushover. They called her 'The Passenger' because she'd pretty much just go along with what anyone else wanted.

As she headed towards the exit she passed a rack with a naughty pink latex dress hanging from it. It was clearly designed for a tall, busty, dominating sort of woman. Donna's hands made contact with the material as she passed.

*ZAP*

Donna stopped. She urged her body to move, to keep walking, but to her horror it didn't seem to be responding to her commands. Instead her body was now moving by itself, like someone else was in control.

She felt herself pick up the latex dress and her body language instantly change. Her back straightened, her stride became more confident and unabashed. She felt herself walk over to the counter and buy the latex dress from the smirking blonde woman on the counter.

"You can get changed in the back if you want babe."

Donna walked to the dressing room at the back of the store. Keeping one hand on the dress, she struggled out of her clothing - even stripping off her underwear - then she began to clamber into the tight, stretchy pink latex.

"Ohhhh fuckkkk yesssss," she heard herself moan as her body throbbed with erotic energy. Donna's flat chest itched as she yanked the straps of the dress over her shoulders.

"Mmmmmmmh, bigger... yesssss, make them bigger," she heard herself say as her chest exploded with pleasure. With a delicious sensation of power and confidence, Donna felt her breasts grow. They swelled up, big firm and round on her chest - growing from A cups to DD's in a matter of seconds.

Her pale skin tanned to a healthy rosy glow and with a stretching sucking sound, the latex dress tightened deliciously around her body as her flat ass pushed out into a big round booty and she grew nearly six inches in height.

She was now an Amazoness and she looked almost unrecognisible as she shook her normally tightly bound hair loose and it fell into elegantly styled mane all the way down her back.

"Mmmmh, that's SO much better. I feel like a brand, new, bitch..."

Donna adjusted her dress, enjoying her new tits yet still not in control of her body. She was just a passenger in her own head. She felt herself apply more makeup and saw she now had long sexy pink acrylic nails the same colour as her dress. Her sensible flat shoes had transformed into six inch pink heels and with a clop, she turned on her stiletto's and easily walked out of the store with a strut.

****

Donna desperately tried to fight for control of her body, but it simply wouldn't obey her. Somehow, touching the dress had made her lose control to some alternative version of herself.

In her car, Donna hiked up her dress. She wasn't surprised to see her pussy was now completely waxed smooth and a pink princess butt plug the same colour as her dress now twinkled in her perfect ass.

"Fuck yessss," she hissed rubbing her clit and touching her breasts as she began to masturbate in the car-park. Reaching into her hand-bag, Donna found a small bullet vibrator and switching it to maximum, slid it into her pussy.

Then, with a wicked smile she pulled her dress down and already cumming, pushed the accelerator down and drove away.

In her own mind Donna screamed and drooled as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her body and she orgasmed harder than she had in years...

***

The restaurant was busy and all eyes were magnetically drawn to Donna as she strode through to the table. She had bought a fur coat to wear over her sexy dress and expensive gold and diamond jewellery now hung round her pretty neck and on her slender wrists.

She looked amazing and her boyfriend George's mouth dropped open as his boss Damien stood up with a grin and kissed her hand.

"George, you never told me your girlfriend was so beautiful. She's... not... how you described her."

"D...Donna... h... how?" stammered George.

Ignoring him, Donna felt her body sit at the table and lean forward so her massive breasts were now prominently displayed. "I'd like Champagne to begin with baby, then I think the Lobster."

"B...but babe, they're the most expensive things on the menu."

"Exactly," purred Donna as she leant forward to give Damian a better view of her tits.

This was going to be fun.

***

The ladies bathroom was quiet except for the sucking sound coming from the stalls.

Damian groaned as Donna knelt before him, his big dick in her mouth. She sucked and slurped, her head moving back and forth as she used her slutty hands to massage his balls and the shaft of his cock.

In her head Donna felt shame, but also excitement. She should be appalled at betraying her lovely boyfriend, yet somehow even as a passenger she was loving every minute of this. Cucking her boyfriend was kind of hot, especially now she was such a hot bitch.

"Ohhhh fuck, George is gonna realise what we're up to if we're gone much longer..." gasped Damian.

"Mmmmh, fuck that loser," giggled Donna as she looked up at her new lover with glee. "He doesn't deserve me anyway. Let's sneak out of the back and go to a hotel. I wanna see what this cock can really do..."

Damian grinned and helped her up. "Fuck yessss."

***

Switching off her phone to ignore the increasingly desperate calls from George, Donna tossed it onto the floor and resumed her sucking.

Damian lay on the hotel bed, his huge cock now fully engorged as she sucked and slurped the length. Donna could feel her body moving by itself, she had never been this confident at sex, but now she was a Goddess.

"Are you ready baby?" she purred stradling him. Her dress was pulled down to reveal her massive tits and hiked up so her tight pussy was visible. Hovering over Damian's cock, she slowly lowered herself down and used her hands to guide Damian's big cock inside herself.

"FUCKKKKKK," she moaned happily. "You're so much bigger than that loser."

Grinding her hips and moaning, her big tits bouncing like a pornstar - Donna began to ride her lover. She had never felt so alive...

***

Donna opened her eyes and groaned. She lifted a hand to her face and then gasped. Her hand... it was obeying her.

Leaping to her feet, she looked around. She was in a hotel room. In the bed next to her lay Damian snoring and exhausted. The pink latex dress lay discarded on the floor. Her last memories had been of Damian tearing it off her body as he urgently thrust inside her and they both climaxed and passed out.

She looked down. Tiny tits, pale skin, normal body.

Oh God - what had she done?

Trembling she walked to the mirror and examined herself. No - she was definitely back to normal. The dress, it had turned her into a monster. A passenger in her own head. She had done such evil, slutty, bitchy things.

Mmmmmh and it had felt so fucking good.

Donna felt weak and unconfident. She was in control of her body again, but she realised how disapointing that was. She had enjoyed being strong, dominant and confident. She had enjoyed looking out through her own eyes whilst a more confident version of herself was in control.

She looked over at Damian. George was going to kill her. Their relationship was probably over. How was she going to handle this? She didn't know how.

Her eyes fell onto the pink dress.

Her pink dress...

***

Striding out of the hotel, an uncaring bitchy look on her face - Donna finished tying her sexy hair into a tight ponytail as she smoothed down her latex dress and revelled in the feeling of her powerful busty body.

Behind her eyes, Donna felt so happy. Her body knew exactly what it wanted and what to do. She would never need to think again, only enjoy the sensations of being a dominant bitch.

She was just the Passenger now and she fucking loved it.

THE END

#evie hyde #bitchification #f2f transformation #f2f corruption #magic dress #possession #passenger

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cottonundiestf · 1 month

Text

Plain Jane (Attribute Theft, BE, Altification)

She hated that her parents named her Jane. They didn't know they were signing her up for torture. They didn't know Jane Gray would grown into an exceptionally plain young woman, turning the name she grew up with since childhood into the perfect insult. Plain Jane. Even her nickname couldn't be unique.

The eighteen-year-old finished the gauntlet of social torment that was high school and she didn't see how college was going to be any better. With her dishwater brown hair, stick-like figure, lower-middle class upbringing, and total lack of style, Jane was overlooked at best and teased at worst.

There was a big senior bonfire at the beach for graduates to celebrate their last summer before going off to college and jobs, and for some reason, Jane let her friend Danielle drag her out for one last hurrah.

When she got to the beach, everyone was having fun and barely noticed her arrival. She went to find Dani, but before she could, her eye was drawn to a gold necklace nestled in the cool sand. It had three gold moon charms of different phases, each seemingly missing a stone that should be set in it.

Jane considered looking for the owner of the necklace, but everyone was too busy to give her the time of day anyway, right? Screw it, she deserved one nice thing tonight.

She fastened the necklace around her neck as Dani, one of her only friends at school, found her. She handed Jane a drink so they could reflect on graduation and look ahead to college, an experience Jane still wasn't optimistic about.

"You're being too hard on yourself, Jane. Besides, college is going to be the perfect time to reinvent yourself."

Everyone always said that. But that was easy for Dani to say; she never had a problem standing out. She grew out of a goth look and attitude over the years, but that just left her as some kind of alt rock goddess, with her dyed hair and a collection of tattoos Jane's parents never would have signed off on at such a young age. Even her style was full of bold blacks and vibrant neons that Jane just could never pull off.

Jane wished she could be half as exciting as Dani while Dani seemed drawn to stare at her friend's new accessory. "Woah, that's a really cool necklace. Is it... um... new?"

Dani looked dizzy, her eyes starting to glaze over. "Dani? Dan—woah." The sudden wave of dizziness passed on to Jane, but it wasn't the only thing.

She felt the ripple of goosebumps across her skin as art pieces etched themselves in ink, each tattoo flooding her head with memories of tattoo parlors and songs that inspired them. It wasn't the kind of music Jane listened to, except... well, it was, right? Her and Dani traded songs and bands, sneaking out to underground concerts throughout high school. Dani was even the one to dye Jane's hair a vibrant blue before graduation.

When the sudden wave of memories and pleasure associated with her tattoos subsided, Jane finally looked herself over, realizing she didn't imagine the change. She started to say something to Dani before looking her over again.

She had fewer tattoos and piercings; if Jane had to guess, she had lost about as many tattoos as Jane gained. What's more, her blue hair was now black with a few blue streaks. She was still gorgeous though, which was why Jane was dating her.

Wait. What?

Jane was always your typical straight girl, but that's not what her memories were telling her, and it certainly wasn't what her body thought. All those nights sneaking out weren't just to go to parties. Dani and Jane had their queer awakenings around the same time, and who better to explore that with then your punk rock bestie?

Dani finally came to, seemingly unaware of what changed or the features Jane... well, stole. Unintentionally, but that was absolutely what happened. "Want to get out of here and...?" Dani just grinned.

Jane felt the sudden warmth in her cheeks and... other places. "Yeah, let's—wait. Er, sorry, but not just yet. I... want to go around and talk to a few people first?"

Dani stared at her girlfriend blankly. "...You do?"

Jane laughed weakly, coming up with a lame excuse of wanting to end things on good terms before leaving her hometown in the Fall. Dani accepted the excuse with a kiss and left Jane alone to inspect her necklace.

As expected, this had to be involved somehow. The crescent moon charm had a new sapphire set in it, leaving her with two gemless moons. Assuming she knew what that meant now...

Jane wandered the periphery of the party, looking girls from her graduating class over. She felt a little guilty for what she took from Dani, but she didn't have the same apprehensions about the girls who spent the years ignoring her.

Eventually, she spotted Lily. Everyone knew she was a social butterfly and a huge flirt, and she had the look to back it up. She had the hips, she had the ass, and as every guy on the beach could tell you, she had a perfect pair of breasts. She even had a pretty face to match, proving fate played favorites.

But fate wasn't in charge tonight. "Hey Lily! Good luck next year. Got any plans?"

The redhead looked away from the two guys chatting her up, confused by the introvert's sudden friendliness. "Hey. Um, Jane, right? Thanks! I've got a job lined up, so... er... sorry, that's just a really nice... necklace?"

No one around them seemed to notice, but Lily and Jane were falling into the same daze she put Dani under before as their realities swapped a few key details around.

There was a sudden spark in Jane's heart. Something feisty. She was always an awkward, quiet kid, but that was all over. She was the one who made herself the life of the party wherever she went. She could feel it on her tongue; flirtation was like a second language Jane was fluent in.

Jane's beanpole figure filled out, her hips flaring to accommodate a new bubble butt. Her flat chest swelled, not quite to the perfectly shaped DDs Lily has... had, but to a size where she could feel them weighing on her chest. Lily was never actively antagonistic to Jane, so she was willing to leave her some gentle curves and some perky A cups.

But she did take all she could from that stunning face. Soft freckles, high cheek bones, full lips, and some fuck-me eyes that could make a man unload his wallet.

Which was what made Jane realize what else she took: the new job Lily had lined up. Jane's awkward, unimpressive body was now made to dance and show off, and that meant she was excited for the chance to strip her way through college for some spending money. She even stole Lily's stage name, Lulu. (It wasn't Lily at her most creative, but now it wasn't Lily's at all, so that was fine.)

Lily finally came to, finishing her inspection of the new ruby in Jane's half-moon charm. Her face was so bland now, like a stock character made to fill in the background of a video game. When Jane smiled and excused herself, Lily looked around, unsure of what to do now. The poor thing would acclimate to her new social anxiety in time, and in time, Jane would adjust to the guys who kept offering her drinks.

With one charm left, Jane had an idea of who she'd use it on, but the night was young. She spent some time dancing and teasing guys from her class, reveling in the attention she lacked in her old life. This was almost perfect.

But perfection was Melody Morgan.

"Jane? No fucking way. That can't be Plain Jane."

Interrupting Jane's dancing, a blonde in a teeny bikini glared at her. Melody was your classic rich bitch, with the best toys, the most popular boyfriend, and a pair of fake tits bought by daddy as a graduation gift to add on to her natural beauty. All those blessings and she still chose to spend the last four years tormenting Jane.

The guy Jane was dancing with, Melody's boyfriend, Tristan, looked at her in confusion. "Plain Jane? Are you feeling okay, babe?"

"Hush!" She pulled her fingers across her lips like a zipper, and Tristan's voice cut out like he was muted. "I don't know what kind of trick this is, but... HEY! You took my necklace!"

Jane blinked, realizing what had happened. The charm necklace was Melody's. And with it, there came the realization that Melody's nice things weren't blessings; they were magic.

The realization dawned on her: what if this wasn't the first time Melody used magic to steal the luster from other girls?

"You little twerp. I'm going to turn you into the toad you are, then I'll take my... my neck..."

Melody was so arrogant, she didn't realize she was staring into the charms, falling under the power of a very pissed off Jane.

There was an element of intent with stealing from people, Jane realized. She wanted half of what made Dani so bold. She wanted most of Lily's beauty and allure.

But she wanted everything from Melody. The bitch didn't deserve any of it.

She didn't focus on herself because she wanted to watch Melody. She watched her thighs thin out and her curves flatten. The luster of her blonde hair went dull. The tact Jane used with Lily was gone as every bit of tit the bitch had, real or synthetic, dissolved until Melody's chest was as flat as the rest of her.

Looks weren't all Melody didn't deserve. Memories started vanishing, from her honors classes to her active dating history to the witchy rituals her aunt taught her when she came of age. She looked around at the beach as all the faces became strangers to the witch who was once the most popular girl in her class.

Eventually, the plain, uneducated, outsider came to her senses, looking around only to realize everyone on the beach was acting like she didn't exist. The only person who seemed amused by her was an absolute goddess rocking tattoos and long, shiny blue hair.

The guy behind the bluette bombshell had his hands all over her, disregarding the stick-figure girl. "Who's this, babe?"

The blue-haired witch grinned wickedly, filled with the elitist attitude she stole from a top mean girl. She'd stolen her rival's body, mind, and boyfriend. Dani wasn't a stickler for monogamy, and really, didn't she deserve a boyfriend and a girlfriend?

But that wasn't the only thing she took from her former bully. "I don't know, Tristan. Hey bitch, what's your name?"

It took the mundane young woman a second to even remember. "Oh, um. Jane Morgan?"

That made Jane, now Melody laugh. "Oh, Plain Jane! I knew her once, but she just sort of fell off the face of the Earth. Glad to see you've been up to nothing interesting, but this is actually a closed party."

Melody Gray fiddled with her necklace, the full moon charm now adorned with a brilliant diamond to complete her set. It sat above an almost cartoonishly large chest. Maybe she went a bit overboard, but daddy promised her a boob job, and Melody loved when every guy and girl on the beach couldn't help but stare.

The queen bee of the beach sighed, officially done with Jane. She wasn't a bully anymore; she wasn't anything. She was insignificant, and that was enough for Melody. "Run off and do... well, who cares, right?"

Jane ran off with tears in her eyes, grappling with a sense of loss she couldn't quite explain as she ran off to her unremarkable life. Melody, meanwhile, reveled in her boyfriend groping her as her new memories as the popular it girl and richest witch in town replaced a much less interesting life she was happy to leave behind.

(Thank you to my Sugar Patrons for helping me with another fun poll of suggestions! There was a tie, so that means you get attribute theft AND altification! The model used goes by Riae! Find ways to support me as a Sugar Patron on my Discord!)

#breast expansion #personality change #transformation kink #altification #bitchification #attribute theft #reality change #magical transformation

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leeyanyanyaaan · 6 months

Text

Kayn x Graffiti Artist!Reader

16 / 11 / 2023

hi hi~ welcome to the start of my heartsteel x headcanon series "creatively charmed"! sorry, i cant think of a better title atm LOL anyways, this is gonna be a series of the heartsteel band with a lover who's got a creative side to them XD that's all, hope you enjoy! next up will be sett ^-^

Started with another one of days where Kayn decided to go out and wreak havoc by vandalizing everything LOL

When he does he often comes across a lot of grafitti art, this one in particular has a certain style to it

He always lets out a little chuckle when he sees it.

Now, as a fellow artist himself, he is respectful enough to not ruin that person's art, but he does his own grafitti nearby. For him it always includes his HEARTSTEEL icon and if he's feeling good then some song lyrics or a joke

This time, it was shortly after HEARTSTEEL's debut MV released, so when he left to do his usual vandalizing, he wrote "two sides to a story but they never tell my side" with a bunch of doodles. He was particularly proud of this piece, so he was planning to continue working on it the next day

What he didn't expect, however, was for someone to continue the lyrics, with "never been the kinda guy to stay inside the guidelines" written underneath, as well as some art of Kayn's scenes and even a headshot drawing of him from their single's thumbnail

Kayn was surprised and amazed to see it, and broke out into an excited shit-eating grin once he saw the artist's signature that he saw in all their other pieces

"So, looks like I captured this person's heart too. Ever the popular star I am, no?"

And so, he continued the lyrics to his verse, secretly hoping this grafitti artist will continue it again.

Which they did, and gradually, that specific wall gradually filled up with PARANOIA's lyrics from their gradual exchange, even with additional doodles of the other members, Ernest and Rhaast, and some of the funny scenes of the MV

Even mini conversations started with side comments on each others drawings, for example:

"This dog -> true MVP of HEARTSTEEL"

"The dog in the MV? His name's Ernest. (But Kayn is the real MVP)"

"LOL u come up w that name? I can see it tho ngl"

Oh right, this person doesn't know this is THE Kayn Shieda they're talking to

Anyways, this exchange made Kayn excited to come back every time (even his bandmates questioned why he goes out every night looking all excited)

Same with Rhaast actually LOL, but Kayn doesn't let him because he knows how crazy he gets when it comes to vandalizing

"I WANT A TURNNN KAYNNN" "No! I don't need you drawing 100 dicks on the wall again!" "THAT'S HOW MUCH OF A DICKHEAD YOU AREE-"

But alas, all good things must come to an end, after... 2 months, I guess? They had finished writing all the lyrics of the song and the whole wall was full of just HEARTSTEEL PARANOIA. Okay, so that's the end of it then.

Until a paper plane hit the top of Kayn's head. Annoyed, Kayn immediately lifted his head up to the direction it was thrown, yapping angrily at whoever had the fucking audacity to do that

Just as he was about to crumple the plane, he noticed writing on one of its wings, "read me!" Raising a brow curiously, he opened up the paperplane, where it revealed a username with a discord logo drawn next to it, along with your artist signature :)

I love how writing for Kayn gives me the free reign to swear AHAHAHDJSN

#heartsteel #heartsteel paranoia #heartsteel lol #heartsteel headcanons #heartsteel x reader #heartsteel kayn #heartsteel kayn x reader #kayn x reader #kayn #shieda kayn #kayn lol #kayn league of legends

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mrswint3rs · 5 months

Text

Best Friends Older Sister

pairing- MODERN AU Bela Dimitrescu x Fem! reader

summary- You and your best friend’s sister have some unspoken chemistry

a/n- i was gonna do more with this but lost motivation

25 days of kinkmas day 5 - slight sadomasochism stuff ig

NSFW WARNING:

contains- Mentions of reader having family problems/insecurities, oral sex (f!receiving), dom! bela sub! reader, slight sadism ig, clit pinching, forbidden romance/lust, mutual lusting, slight age gap (Reader is 19 and Bela is 24)

•:•::••:•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•

You've been best friends with the middle Dimitrescu sister, Cassandra. For as long as you can remember. Having met through high-school as misfits, the two of you became instant friends.

You even went to the same college when you got older. Even though you were drastically different in many ways, you understood each-other with ease. You told each-other everything. Be it life struggles, random thoughts, or whatever else. You trusted one another with everything.

But there was one thing you couldn't bring yourself to tell her despite all this. You had an undeniable attraction to her older sister, Bela. You told yourself you would never act on it, never thought you'd have a chance. Bela was like a walking goddess. Her black lipstick perfect, never cracking. Along with her pale skin and dark makeup so bewitching and her gothic style. Her eyes, beautifully golden, spoke so many words. Especially when they looked at you.

Cass lived with two sisters, Daniela, and Bela. You'd known the three for about as long as you'd known Cassandra. They were all similar in style, but they didn't stick out to you as much as the eldest did. It wasn't just her looks or the way she carried herself. You were drawn to her sensible demeanor. She simply knew what she was doing and exactly what she wanted. She was intimidating, yet enticing.

You always had troubles with fitting in until you met Cassandra and her family. They were unique but they felt like home, never judging you.

In a way, the Dimitrescu household was like a second home to you. You often stayed over when you got a break from college. You absolutely despised staying in the school dorms. Your roommate was insufferable. Your personalities and different living habits constantly clashed. It was just easier to stay with the sisters who you actually got along with.

They always made things interesting, not like most people. You've spent a few holidays with them even. You weren't very close with your own family after moving away, nor did you have any siblings growing up. It was fun with them. The way they constantly bickered with each other over the dumbest things. And they included you.

It's been a few weeks since you've been over. Mostly because of upcoming midterms, but also because of your growing guilt.

You'd always told yourself nothing would happen with Bela, as much as you wanted something to happen. You told yourself it was just a meaningless crush. Nothing more, nothing less. Even with all the glances you shared, her constant teasing of you. You didn't think you had a chance anyway. Not to mention, you felt like it was weird to have feelings for your best friend's sister. You thought she was out of your league. She was older, so sure of herself. You were in shock when something did happen, and Bela was the one to instigate it.

As usual you were over at the house, waiting for Cass to get off work. Daniela was out, leaving you and Bela alone.

That's when she kissed you. Not just a simple kiss, but one that was full of pent up desire. It was intense, after the awkward small talk and side eye glances. She knew how you felt, you made it so obvious. She noticed everything. The way you were constantly staring at her thinking you were being subtle, and how nervous and red faced you got at her teasing. But you never noticed how she was looking back. That passionate moment between you was cut short at the sound of Daniela's car pulling into the driveway. Bela pulled her lips from yours with a smirk. You were completely caught off guard and didn't know what to say. Yet she was so calm, acting as if nothing happened as Daniela came inside.

You ended up going home later that night, not saying a word about it to Cass. You could hardly believe it happened yourself. You couldn't get it off your mind. It felt so wrong yet so right at the same time.

Even three weeks later, you couldn't stop thinking about the interaction. It was just a kiss.

Your thoughts were later quelled at the sound of your phone. Cassandra texted, asking you to come over. You knew you couldn't avoid her forever, so you agree. You didn't want her to think you were cutting her off or something.

When you pull into the driveway you find Cassandra's car isn't there. You don't think too much of it as you head inside. But you notice Cass really wasn't there, only Bela.

"Well, look who it is." she taunts with a playful grin. "I was scared you'd avoid me forever.."

You're utterly confused. Cass was the one who asked you to come over, yet she's nowhere to be seen. "Where's everyone at?" you ask, completely avoiding the confrontation of what happened the last time you were over.

"Cass is at work for the next hour or so." She replies, "Daniela is over at a 'friends' house. So it's just us, little one."

That didn't make much sense. Why would Cass invite you over if she was at work? She could sense your confusion. "But I got a text...?"

"She left her phone at home by mistake," she giggles, "Sorry, I just couldn't help myself. I missed you, and she's the only one who has your number."

She was being so direct with you, unlike her usual teasing. She always left you questioning whether or not you were just being too hopeful.

"Why?" You ask. She laughs at your question. You were so visibly anxious, just standing there in the doorway awkwardly.

"You poor thing, so clueless." She teases. "Why don't we go to my room and I'll just show you why. Unless you can't handle it?"

Your heart almost stops. Her tone was so seductive, there's no way to misinterpret it this time. She was making her intentions known.

You put your fears aside and follow her to her bedroom. You'd stayed over many times but you'd never been in her private space. Even her room was beautiful. She had a queen sized bed, complimented with red and black satin bedding. Everything in there matched her aura perfectly.

You get comfortable on her mattress, removing your shoes and laying back. She soon joins you. "Comfy?"

Without answering, you act on impulse, pulling her in for a kiss. You're hoping you weren't reading too much into it. Your overthinking stops once she reciprocates, moving on top of you and bringing a hand up to cup your jaw. Her lips were so pleasingly soft, but her movements were rough. Her teeth took hold of your lower lip, teasingly tugging before diving back in and kissing you deeply.

You moan softly into her mouth as it goes on to be more heated. You start to get more secure beneath her, letting your hands wander up her back of her shirt.

"Mnn...finally gaining some confidence are we?" She pulls away smiling pridefully. "Why don't we spice things up a bit, little one? Be a good girl and strip for me."

Your face flushes once more but you don't hesitate to obey. Quickly, you remove your top, letting it fall to the floor.

"Such a pretty girl," she praises, "and you're mine, aren't you?" She watches proudly as you remove the remainder of your clothes, awaiting your answer.

"Yes ma'am...all yours." You were fully unsheathed for her. You prayed that you wouldn't be interrupted this time. You'd dreamed of this, never expecting it to become reality. But it was. You were bare, dripping on her bed, with her ready between your thighs.

She grins, seeing the anticipation in your eyes before pressing a few soft kisses to your clit. She was just teasing you with the heat of her breath.

"You want it?" Bela queries and you nod eagerly. She knew you wanted it, she just wanted you to say it. "Ask nicely." She urges.

You felt a bit skittish and on the spot. You're hesitant to speak the words she wants to hear aloud. But with a cruel pinch to your clit, your mouth opens, letting out a pained whine.

"P-please!" you cry as she keeps a tight squeeze on you. "Please what? Don't be shy, you can say it." She was thoroughly enjoying the way you were squirming.

"Please, I want you to eat my pussy.." You cave at her sadistic disciplining.

"There you go, lovely. Was that so hard?" She releases your clit, still grinning slyly. She loved the raw sounds you made when you were impelled. Along with that look of fear in your eyes. But as much as she loved tormenting you, she wanted to please you first. Your cunt was so wet and needy in front of her face.

"Your pretty pussy has been lonely lately, huh? You're such a needy little thing I can tell it's been a while since you've been touched." Despite her tantalization, knowing you were craving her so much turned her on greatly.

She finally gives in and plunges her face into your wet heat. The way you mewl drives her mad. Her tongue laps at every fold and crevice, wanting to taste every part of you.

She groans into you as she feels your hand desperately gripping her hair. You couldn't help it with the way she was devouring you. Every flick of her tongue was determined. She wanted to give you something memorable, so she'd stay on your mind always. She couldn't stand the feeling of you avoiding her. You were hers.

She sucks and laps at your clit furiously, she couldn't get enough of your sweet sounds. Your thighs clenched together so tightly against her as you writhed. Even more so when she spreads you further, licking at your most sensitive glands.

"F-fuck, gonna cum..." you whimper, your hips thrashing wildly. This only urges her to throw in her fingers. Her tongue continues in a gratifying pattern, while simultaneously finger fucking you into your orgasm.

You cream around her fingers, your walls convulsing as you reach your peaks. Your throat was dry from the heavy breathing and cries escaping it.

"Aww, what a mess," she taunts as she departs from you. "What do you say, hm?"

"T-thank you.." you manage to respond.

"Mhm, good girl. Maybe next time, I'll let you try and please me. Cass is going to be home soon. Don't worry though lovely, it'll be our secret."

mlist

#bela dimitrescu #bela x reader #bela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil 8 #re8 village #re8 #resident evil #resident evil x reader #wlw #fem reader #modern au #age g4p #smut #fanfiction

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 month

Note

AITA for backing out of an art exchange because the person who pulled my name has an art style I really don't like?

In the fandom based Discord I'm in we had a small art exchange last month. Everyone got randomly paired with someone else to exchange art based on their prompts.

I'm a big believer in all art having value and that people enjoy different art styles, but unfortunately the person I was paired with has a really specific art style that I just.

Honestly, I hate it.

Our fandom is soft-anime style, think something like Genshin or similar art. Anime but more rounded off, 3D style.

However this artist has a really sharp, angular, honestly a little strange kind of art style that makes the final result look nothing like the original character design at all except for features like their clothing being the most obvious clue as to who they are.

If you ever read the really old Roald Dahl books with the super pointy, triangular art style, its kind of like that. Huge, super sharp pointy chins and noses, super long faces, all of the eyes drawn in the same long, sideways triangle style.

Its amazing that they have a style they like, but its 100% not my style and I really didn't want to have to fawn over it and share it across my socials when it is clearly the opposite of the art style I like.

I wound up pretending I had an unexpected work trip which meant I had to back out of the exchange (which actually wound up being true, but the trip was only 3 days so it wasn't like I wouldn't have had the 3 other whole weeks to work on my side of the exchange.) I was super polite about it, because again, its not my style but its theirs and I'd never deliberately make someone feel bad about their art.

Well, turns out some genius in our server forgot we all follow each other on Tumblr too and made a post basically laughing about how I had the balls to get out of it and how funny and smart they found it.

The mods sent a screenshot of it into the server and said bullying would not be tolerated and I got a warning for bullying. I pointed out I hadn't lied about the trip and I wasn't even the one who made the post, but they blacklisted talking about it further and made a new rule that if you fail to participate in future exchanges for anything less than like, someone dying or whatever, you get removed from the server completely.

All around nobody is happy about any of it, and there's talks about voting to just veto exchanges completely both because nobody wants to single people out and nobody wants to be forced to fawn over art they don't like.

I'm mostly angry with the person who poked their nose in because before they said anything it was completely fine with me and the other artist. They understood completely, we joked about how shit work is, and they were just going to do an art piece for the server as a whole which I thought was a really cute outcome, but now both of them have gone silent in the server and won't reply to anyone.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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