#though hey their arm looks even more fucked in the line art and sketch SO

[spamtoon]

i would take their poison

Sketch + Line Art for those Clicking Under the Cut(tm) (archival purposes honestly)

#moshi monsters #sweet tooth moshi monsters #experimentation i am COG AWFUL at digital dear goodness i was playing with coloring and transparency and all those fun digital doodads. #next time i probably wont have black outline or i'll do it differently. or i'll try well. not doing this. it sure was a process im #i'm an amateur everyone who masically only doodles. does the sketch look better than the final. kinda! but thats okay because im learning #and y'know what. sometimes in life you just need to draw faves no consequences #for how saturated a character they are i kinda feel like i pastelled things too muc and trapped myself with my convoluted layer setup but m #it was looking WEIRD with everything at full force #maybe the sparkles look dumb maybe the hair looks dumb and out of place and why i kinda made the lollipop a little funky too #uhh. first digital piece posted... ever? #the arm is SO fucky i am not that was. thats not what perspective is spam #yes this is what i spent a good chunk of today doing after i started working on coloring it and then. decided to go for it. #cooolrs a little inaccurate on the horns and such but man one of the biggest art things was like #i dont have to have everything at their perfect hex codes all the time. this would look way worse if i just. used their standard colors #yeah this is. instead of looking like its forward and to the right it kinda just looks like they have a Bigger hypno-lolly #especialy becase. i did not bother on the gloves and platforms i the sparkles work with 2 kinda sorta but you know #im practicing! i'm learning! i'll get better and learn how to do things more effectively! #anyway. sweet toof #though hey their arm looks even more fucked in the line art and sketch SO #note to future self have a Consistent Line Art Size so that if you feel like the line art looks like shit during coloring you dont have to #gamble on what size it was while changing it #sketch lollipop looks better i should have kept it small. but its fine. we'll get em next time boys (tm) #yes i know my gif post was so fancy and then the drawing is just THIS

[baziutawrites]

Punishment

Sub!Xavier Thorpe x Female OC smut

WARNING! If you are under 18 yrs old, do not read this piece. I do not take responsibility for anything if you proceed.

Masterlist is pinned on my blog. Check it out, cuz I can't link it.

Apparently, I cannot write short stories, so hopefully y'all excuse the abomination of a wordcount.

English is not my first language, please keep that in mind. And I sincerely hope this one shows up in the tags or else istfg. 😤

Xavier Thorpe was positively whipped by now and even his artwork couldn't help him get her out of his system. Even though he tried to, in more ways than one, nothing seemed to clear his head of the images she unknowingly burned into his mind. And it frustrated him beyond words, how oblivious she was to his suffering.

She wondered how in the hell was he able to do anything in here with this god-awful lighting.

Val got up from a desk, discarding the book she tried to read. Xavier’s art shed - a “studio”, as he called it, huffing in annoyance every single time he had to correct anyone who called it differently - was not the best place for reading apparently. Duly noted. 

Xavier stepped back from the easel for like a hundredth time in the past half an hour, running his hand through his hair. He huffed in exasperation, glaring at the canvas he was working on like it had just insulted him. He glanced at her, noticed she was looking quizzically at him and quickly averted his eyes, almost as if avoiding her gaze.

“Can’t focus,” he mumbled. His eyes were now trained onto the mess of lines and colour splattered in an unspecified formation. 

“Huh. Very, ah… abstract, I see.” Val hummed, standing next to him, unintentionally brushing his side with her arm and he hissed quietly, recoiling.

What in the heavens name was up with him today? She raised her eyebrows but shrugged it off, deciding not to say anything. Artist block must be like PMS or something, she figured. So instead, she took on exploring the rest of the space, leaving him to grumble under his breath behind her back.

There was a lot of artwork on every possible surface - some finished, some barely sketched out. Loads of tools and different mediums were scattered everywhere, mixed with empty cups, brushes and loose pieces of paper in between. There also was something on a table in the far corner of the studio that caught her eye. It didn’t look quite right - as if hastily discarded and half-heartedly covered with a piece of cloth. And, oh boy, it spiked her interest.

It turned out to be a sketchbook. She brought it closer to the light and froze, when her own face stared back at her from the paper. But this wasn’t the shocking part - her naked body, perfectly recreated in the act of riding a dick from the perspective of a person underneath her - that was. A pair of large hands were gripping her hips, digging their fingers into her flesh desperately. Xavier’s hands.

She leafed through the rest of the pages, finding loads of different sexual acts depicted with her at the forefront, with an occasional study of her face. She grinned to herself, quite flattered and embarrassed at how much she must have affected him to draw her that many times in a separate, dedicated sketchbook. Given his abilities, he definitely didn't use this solely as a study of human anatomy.

“Hey,” she called to him, smiling mischievously at him when she got his attention, “private porn collection?” She held the book higher so he could see it. Even in the dim lighting she saw his eyes growing wide. A deep shade of red flushed his face - she had never seen him so flustered and embarrassed before. He started towards her, yanked the sketchbook from her hands and shoved it angrily under some unfinished sketches.

“Jesus, what’s gotten into you?” She stepped back, crossing her arms.

He kept running his fingers through his hair, agitated. And then he snapped.

“You, Val. YOU. You are messing with my fucking head. Can’t you fucking see that?” He grabbed the canvas he was just working on and shook it in her face. “I can’t focus on shit, I haven’t been able to paint a single thing for god damn weeks. I haven’t been able to get you out of my fucking head for fucking weeks!”

He threw it onto the floor in anger, where it laid, wet paint gleaming in the dim light. He sat down on a stool and hid his face in his hands, steadying his breath.

“I can not stop thinking about you.” His voice now soft, quiet. He rubbed his temples, clearly very frustrated. “I dream about you more than I’d like to admit, in the ways I’m too embarrassed to say out loud.”

“It’s just… I want you so fucking bad all the fucking time, Valerye.”

Valerye remained silent. This was not what she expected to hear. A lecture on personal space or not snooping around in other people’s personal belongings, maybe. But this? Of course she noticed how needy he was when they fucked… and when they didn’t. Yet, it never crossed her mind that she had this much control over him.

Xavier Thorpe was officially smitten. And it excited her.

Step by step, she slowly advanced towards him, a slight smirk curving her lips. She could see his darting eyes and sheepish expression. This was good. Very, very good.

“Tell me, Xavi.” She stopped in front of him and lifted his chin with one of her fingers, forcing him to look her up in the eye. “How exactly is this supposed to be my problem? Or… my fault?”

His breath hitched as he inhaled sharply, eyes widened. She was calm and methodical, but he could make out an underlying tone lacing her voice. A warning to be careful, not to play with fire. This made his head spin, he gripped the edges of the seat for comfort. There also was a lingering promise of danger, a sweet risk of getting burned if he leaned into the flames too much. He swallowed, his knuckles cracking, trying not to let his mind be overcome by the dizziness he constantly felt near her. Shifting on his seat slightly, embarrassed of the fact he was getting hard so soon, he tried to hide his growing erection by pulling his shirt down.

“It’s not–”

“No?” She interrupted in a sickeningly sweet voice. And then there was her knee in between his legs, pressing against his crotch. He froze and squeaked, heat spreading through his body at the sudden contact. “Are you sure about that? Because that’s not what you’ve just screamed at me, baby.”

Xavier’s breath quickened, grasping at the fleeting self-control, desperate not to give in and rub himself on her knee. She definitely could feel his growing erection and his face turned even redder.

“I don’t think you were nice to me.” Her face was inches from his, studying his expression, her hot breath mixing with his. His plump lips parted slightly, a dazed look in his eyes, that were trained on her mouth. The way she was smiling made his head spin.

He threw caution to the wind and lunged for a kiss - but instead of her sweet taste, he felt a sharp sting on his cheek as she slapped him across his face and his head got yanked to the side by his hair. He blanked out for a second but was swiftly brought back to his senses when Val’s knee pressed harder against his now rock hard bulge.

“I think you are a very bad boy, Xavi.”

“Oh god,” he whimpered weakly, earning a dark chuckle from her that tickled his strained, exposed neck. More pathetic sounds escaped his throat as she placed surprisingly delicate, wet kisses along the line of his ear, not letting go of his hair. He didn’t think he could get even more turned on, yet somehow she managed to push him further with ease.

He felt his seat being rolled backwards and his back hit the hard, cold wall, trapping him in front of his girlfriend.

“And do you know what happens to bad boys? They get punished.”

She bit his neck suddenly, hard and he couldn’t help himself any more. A twinge of shame shot through his chest at how little it took her to make him a desperate, whining mess. His hips rutted against her knee, the pain mixing with pleasure in an intoxicating way. His moans filled the cool air inside the art studio, clashing with his flushed, sweaty skin, making Val feel the wetness seep through her underwear. 

Almost as if he sensed it, his hands flew towards her waist, pulling her onto his lap, digging his fingers into her flesh in a needy way. She moaned despite herself at the sudden contact of his hard, heaving chest flush against her, his hot, wet lips crashing with hers. Oh, he felt so, so good, so right.

But Valerye could not be having it. He had to be punished. She slapped him again and gripped his face forcefully. She watched him in bemused disbelief as his eyes rolled back momentarily with a pained but lustful groan bubbling in his throat. This fucker was enjoying it just as much as she did. 

“You are positively filthy, Xavi.”

He smiled at her stupidly, which made a coil in her stomach grow tighter. She quickly grasped his shirt and pulled it over his head, trapping his arms behind him in the tangle of fabric. Now, with one distraction out of the way, she could go on with the plan that has just formed inside her head.

“And I think we have to do something about that.” She smirked, pulling his sweatpants down his long, lanky legs and chuckled at how eager he was to help, lifting his hips up to make it easier for her to undress him.

“Yes,” he whispered breathlessly, “yes, please.”

Xavier shuddered under her fingers caressing his chest, bumping the back of his head on the hard wall as he relished in the sensation - but whipped back it almost instantly when she stopped at his nipples and pinched them. Hard. 

Again, and again, she toyed with them, a self-satisfied smirk on her face as she watched him squirm and strain against the fabric of his own shirt restraining him. She straddled his lap, leaned forward, and latched her mouth onto one of his hardened nipples. She could feel the heat emanating from his massive bulge as he bucked his hips, desperately trying to find any friction to comfort his throbbing cock. His moans got louder, raspier, needier, the longer she sucked and licked them, leaving sloppy trails of saliva on his burning skin. And just as he started to quiver, she stopped.

His face scrunched in frustration at the sudden loss of contact, only to fill with hope as his underpants got pulled down to join the pants somewhere around his ankles. Poor thing, she thought to herself, slowly taking off her skirt and underwear, watching his eyes grow wide when she came back onto his lap. His dick was rock hard by now, twitching just mere millimeters from her wet pussy. He could feel the heat just out of his reach and whimpered, lifting his hips in a desperate attempt to at least brush his tip against her - to no avail. She grabbed him by his throat, pushing him back against the wall, making his breath wheezy.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She hissed, smiling at his dazed expression and she slithered her fingers into his disheveled locks. “You’re not being a very good boy. Think you’ll just… watch me.”

She pulled at his hair and grazed at his long neck, earning another strained moan from him. His eyes rolled back at the sensation of her teeth almost breaking his skin, following with a soothing lick over the pulsating mark she left. And when she moaned his name into his ear, his eyes snapped back to her, his pulse quickening, as he realized what she meant by ‘watching her’. His breathing almost stopped when his eyes laid on her palm, working her own wet clit almost on top of his swollen cock.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” a strangled string of words poured out of his mouth. His dick twitched again, involuntarily and tapped her hand and before he knew it, his face was stinging again, a red splotch forming on his cheek and tears prickling the corners of his eyes. Valerie almost felt sorry for him for a moment, until he pleaded.

“Do it again,” his eyes glossy with pupils blown out, burned into hers with a sudden despair. “Please, I’ve been bad.”

Xavier’s needy, faltering voice made her jolt with sudden pleasure and a new wave of wetness seeped out of her as she picked up the pace on rubbing herself. It didn’t go unnoticed, as his dick, now leaking, twitched once again, just as another slap graced his other side of his face. To his surprise, he felt drops of wet, thick liquid on his shaft and when he looked down at Val once again, his brain went hazy. He felt as if he could explode right here, right now.

“See what you’ve done?” She moaned, feeling her juices seep through her fingers in long, sticky strings, landing on his erect cock beneath her. With her mouth agape, getting lost in the pleasure, she locked eyes with him - and the pure lust she saw in them sent her over the edge in seconds. 

“Xavier–”

He held his breath the entire time she writhed and moaned his name throatily over him. He desperately tried to ingrain the image in his mind in every single detail, every movement and every sound she made. Only when she removed her fingers from her clit, he saw how much they were drenched in her thick, glistening juices. Without a second thought, he leaned forward and clamped his mouth around them and sucked hungrily, lapping and slurping her palm clean. He looked like he had never tasted anything more delicious in his entire life.

Valerye’s face flushed with heat, as she felt fuzzy at his devoted action. He earned some ‘relief’. But only a tiny bit.

“Good boy,” she cooed and she could see his mind going places. She pulled her hand away - now coated with his saliva - and hovered it over his swollen dick. “I think you’ve earned a little bit of a reward.”

And with that, she slowly dragged her slippery fingers from his balls up, coating him evenly with her juices, ending at his pulsating, purple tip and enveloped it into her hand. With a steady grip, she started pumping. 

Xavier forgot how to breathe. He felt like his brain went through a system restart and then, finally, a flood of long awaited pleasure crashed over him, taking over his senses. He spasmed and started trembling, a long, guttural moan followed by a slur of garbled ‘thank you’s fell from his mouth. He was bucking his hips in a frenzy, desperate to reach his release that was inching closer with every pump of Val’s slick hand. His jaw slacked, eyes crossed and rolling back under half-closed eyelids, he looked mad, completely out of control. He was so close, so fucking close–

And then she stopped. And did it all over again, and again, and again.

He never felt so desperate, so angry and so horny in his lifetime. His cock hurt at this point, his balls were on fire and his eyes welled up with tears but he didn’t want her to stop. When she let go of him once again, just as he was about to cross the point of no return, he cried out in agony.

“Fuck, no, please, no no no, don’t!” He wailed and whined in a high-pitched, cracking voice, pumping the air desperately, feeling the release painfully getting away from him.

“What's wrong, baby, you’ve had enough?” She teased, not doing a very good job at concealing her own trembling voice. The way he acted in such a frenzied despair made her want to rut herself on his thigh, face or cock - anywhere at this point. But she had one more thing in mind, before she would let him get what he craved so badly.

“Yes! No, please, don’t–”

His incredibly throbbing dick was in her grasp again, she was pumping him so fast he almost could not take this torture anymore. He was so over, and yet understimulated at the same time. He was making sounds that didn’t sound human no more, as he felt getting closer and closer to the dreaded edge, afraid that he might get denied the pleasure once fucking again. But then he felt himself being pushed past it, and she didn’t stop. His back arched, he lifted his hips up from the seat, head thrown back, howling in anguished pleasure, as he waited for this sweet, final release. And it came, seconds after she completely let go of him once again.

“Nonononono, please!”

Dull spasms tore through his body, as his cock twitched, coating his chest and stomach with impossible amounts of his seed. It didn’t bring any relief at all. Tears rolled down his face, as he sobbed from frustration and betrayal - she ruined him. He felt humiliated, degraded and completely corrupted. However, when she cradled his face, he leaned into her touch so desperately it made her heart flutter.

"You've been such a good boy, Xavi. So good." She caressed his splotched, stinging cheeks, wiping away the tears. He looked at her with those big green eyes, filled with so much need and torment - and such animalistic lust, she couldn't help herself but kiss him. He feverishly reciprocated, still sniffling.

"Will you be a good boy if I untie you?"

He noded frantically, babbling promises of his good behaviour. And he didn't lie - he awaited her next orders obediently after he no longer had his limbs constrained. He didn't even touch himself briefly. He was completely under her spell.

She ordered him to lay down on the floor, right on the discarded canvas and he didn't even bat an eye when his back came in contact with the still wet paint. He would do anything for her at this point. And just as he put his hands over his head by himself as a precaution, not to touch her without permission, she couldn't wait any longer. She climbed onto him, straddling him and aligned herself with his hard, hot cock, earning a whimper from him. He craved her heat, her wetness so bad.

"Val, please," he croaked. "Can I touch you? Please, I'll be good I promise."

She agreed. His large, trembling palms found their way onto her hips and grasped them as if his life depended on it. They followed her movements, as she slowly but surely lowered herself onto his dick. She felt him stretch her beyond imagination as she reached the base of it, her thirsty pussy relishing in the sensation of his hot, almost boiling skin. He moaned in the pleasure he awaited for so long. She was so wet again, so incredibly tight around him. He was starved for her.

As if she could read his thoughts, she moved up and down, setting a fast, delicious pace that made his mind go haywire. He threw his head back, eyes shut tight and brows furrowed. Gravelly, needy moans were falling from his mouth. The sound of wet lewd noises filled the shed as he began to lift his hips to meet hers quicker. He was numbed from the ruined orgasm but still desperately wanted to feel every single inch of her pussy, up to the very hilt of his cock.

She tangled her fingers in his silky hair and pulled, making him crane his neck backwards, his adam's apple portruding through his skin. He groaned, barely registering what was happening he was so focused on slamming his cock in and out of her and she didn't blame him. Moaning like mad, she latched herself onto his neck and bit him, over and over, leaving marks on him so everyone would know, who he belonged to. The pain, mixed with the gradually overwhelming pleasure was fucking with his head. He brought her down on his dick with so much force, moving his hips up at the same moment, she yelped when she saw sparks before her eyes. It seemed like he wanted to bury himself even deeper inside of her seeping cunt, even if it wasn't possible.

"You are such a good boy, you know that?" She whispered breathlessly to his ear and she felt his hips stutter, as a pained whine erupted from his chest. "Say you're a good boy, Xavier."

"I-ah–" His cheeks flushed red with embarrassement. "I am a g-good boy. I am, I really am," he whimpered, feeling himself inch painfully slow to the edge.

"I know, baby." His cock was getting even thicker, sending electrifying jolts through Val's body. "Cuz you're gonna make me cum. You're making me cum, Xavi."

His relentless, deep thrusts faltered and lost it's rythm as he felt, once again, as if his mind disconnected from his body, and a rumbling growl reverberated in his chest. He blabbered nonsense at this point, tears stinging his eyes as the frustration surfaced yet again. He was so turned on but nowhere near close to release it seemed. And now, she ground herself on top of him info her own high, smearing the cum from his ruined orgasm on herself as she rode him, chest flush against his, expertly rubbing her wet clit on his cut pubic hair, with his rock hard dick plunged deep inside of her. In other circumstances, just a mere thought of something of this kind would send him cumming all over himself - but now, it was not enough.

Xavier whimpered in despair, feeling her skin getting hotter to the touch with every roll of her hips, her walls clenching tight around his painfully swollen dick. He brought her into him and his lips collided with hers, swallowing her moans in a messy, open mouthed kisses.

"Such a good boy." She moaned breathily, her words immediately drank by him as he panted like a madman. "Make me cum all over your fat cock, Xavi."

He could finally feel his own, blinding pleasure rising up to the surface. His fingers dug into her hips, as he steadied her and and absolutely pounded her like an animal in heat, howling like one too. With every thrust, his abdomen glided over her aching clit.

"Let me cum too, V, please," he was getting closer and closer along with her. His voice needy, pitiful, face stained with fresh tears. "Can I cum?"

"N-no, not y--" Her voice drowned in her satisfied whining, as she clenched on Xavier's cock, her orgasm washing over her in repeated, delicious waves of heat. She kept moving and it drove him crazy, as he now had to force himself not to fall apart inside her fluttering hole as she still rode out her highs.

"Baby, please, I can't take it anymore, please let me cum, I'm begging you, I've been good, I've been good, please let me cu--" He wailed so desperately, tears in his eyes obscuring his vision.

It happened in seconds. She grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking at it and lunging at his bruised neck.

"Cum," she commanded, as she bit him, still riding him through her aftershocks. This only solidified his fate, as the hair pulling has already pushed him past his limits. His breathing stopped, as he stared at at her with a pained expression and then completely exploded inside of her.

Unholy, guttural wails tore from Xavier's throat, his vision becoming blinded by what seemed to be fireworks under his eyelids. He convulsed, his torso lost contact with the canvas he was laying on for a second, then arched backwards stiffly, before he absolutely lost his god damn mind. His hips bucked so hard he lifted Valerye up several times, impailing her onto his dick so deep she thought he was going to tear her in half. He shot load after load inside her, filling her up to the brim, his hands bruising her hips as he pushed her down onto himself so hard his seed started to leak out, coating the base of his dick and her pussy in white.

He felt like he was on cloud nine, despite the dull pulsating pain he still felt in his loins. Both dazed, barely conscious, basked in each other's warmth and comfort, tired as if they had just ran the marathon twice. Xavier nuzzled into his girlfriend's neck, inhaling the scent of her skin, that was still intoxicating to him. His long hair stuck to his sweaty forhead and eyes but he couldn't bother to let V out of his arms to brush it away. He traced slow, delicate patterns on her back and chuckled when he heard her content sigh. He was lazily staring at her from underneath his heavy eyelids, studying her face in every single detail, almost as if he would never get to see her again. A smile lingered around his lips as she shifted on his chest, leaning into his embrace.

Xavier Thorpe was officially, completely whipped and he wouldn't have it any other way.

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe smut #xavier thorpe x oc #sub!xavier thorpe

[batstorm93672]

Damian sat up from his bed, a good nap did him good a--

"Timothy. What are you doing in my room?"

Tim was watching T.V. and turned around "Hiding out"

"Why?"

"...I thought Jason's helmet was my leftovers from the chicken place and put it in the microwave"

Damian blinked a few times, wondering if what he heard was real or a dream.

"Then the helmet exploded... and so did the microwave"

"I'm going back to sleep. Maybe I'll be lulled to sleep through your screams of agony when Jason finds you"

Before Damian could lie back down, another door opening and closing came. Sitting back up to see Dick looking frantic. "Hey! Timmy, you crashing here?" "Come to join the fun?" "Haha yep" Damian rubbed his eyes, no more sleep it seems "And what did you do Richard?" "...I was swinging on the chandelier in the living room and it crashed..." Tim looked stunned "Bruce might kill you" "I know! That's why I'm hiding"

"Ugh fine, someone pass me my sketchbook and pencils so I can at least keep myself entertained"

Damian sketched many cats, it was fun playing around with their regal elegance on paper-- ...He made a dark line out of where he was drawing from another sound of opening of the door.

Jason walked in and Tim almost leaped up, he managed to compose himself enough "Hey Jaybird! What are you in for?" "I broke a vase" "Which one?" "...yes...one..." "How did you manage that?" "...I thought I saw a rat..." "...and?" "I tried shooting it" Everyone but Jason and Damian (though he was snickering a bit) bust out in laughter. "A RAT!?" "OH MY GOSH THAT'S HYSTERICAL" "I'm disappointed you were planning to shoot such a defenseless rodent whom didn't harm you" "Yeah... I know"

"Now to my real question, why is everyone in my room!"

In unison as if it was a choir.

"It's the last place anyone would look"

Damian groaned and shook his head "Fine, do as you please. Don't come crying back when you all get in trouble"

.

A few moments of a cheesy 80s rom-com and footsteps stormed close. "DICK, TIM, JASON!"

Dick looked at the others in fear "Scatter!"

The three in a blink were gone and Bruce opened the door "Damian. Forgive me for barging in" "Do as you please, I've heard enough amounts of excuses"

Bruce cleared his throat "Dick get out of the dresser. Tim out from under the bed. Jason get back inside and stop hanging from the window" Dick opened the dresser and stepped out, Tim crawled out from the bed and Jason who dangled out from the window climbed back in.

The three got out and looked embarrassed, Bruce crossed his arms "Who did what and what happened?" It became silent and Damian sighed.

"Timothy took Jason's helmet and put it in the microwave thinking it was his meal packaged thus exploding the helmet and the microwave. Richard broke the chandelier climbing on it like a moron. Jason shot numerous vases thinking it was a rodent"

"TIM WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO MY HELMET!?" "ME!? WHAT ABOUT DICK HANGING AROUND FURNITURE EVEN THOUGH THE RULES STATE NOT TO" "YEAH WELL JASON IS AFRAID OF RATS" Tim, Jason, Bruce and Damian looked at Dick. Dick couldn't contain his snickering "I know it doesn't count into this, but that fact is hysterical"

"Okay. So here's what's gonna happen. I'm not going to ground any of you"

The three looked surprised "You see, I'm not going to because soon Alfred will be back from his visit" They gasped in horror and Damian smirked "This seems fun" "Why did you tattle on us Demon!?" "...You all barged into my room, I couldn't go back to sleep and then my art was messed up. If anything it was only a matter of time before father found out" They all murmured in subtle agreement as Bruce grinned devilishly "Yes. Now you three can just wait for Alfred"

"We're gonna die"

"Jason I'm sorry for accidentally blowing up your helmet"

"It's okay Replacment, I forgive you"

"As the first Robin, I commend you all a great job on making it this far past our issues"

"As the second Robin, I share the sentiment. May we all find peace in the fury of Alfred"

"As the third Robin, I'd like to say that it's been an honor with you all. Let us think fondly on our moments together in joy"

Damian shook his head as Bruce sat down beside him "They are not dramatic at all" "I believe we've obtained it from you and Richard" "Hah I suppose you all did. That's a nice drawing" "It was slightly ruined when Jason opened the door, but I think I can make do. I wonder what Pennyworth will do to them all when he arrives" "3...2...1..." Bruce pointed at the door, right on cue.

"MASTER TIMOTHY, MASTER DICK AND MASTER JASON I REQUEST YOUR PRESENCE THIS INSTANT"

Everyone jumped up, the three looking terrified and pale.

#damian wayne #damian wayne has feelings and he wont admit it #tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #three original done messed up #wish them good luck

[astaroth1357]

Demon Brothers Getting Possessive at the Club

… I can explain. Or, well, no I can't. But this exists now anyway so enjoy?

Warnings: Possessive Behavior, Yandere-ish, Violence

Intro: The MC and their favorite demon were just trying to have a fun night out at The Fall. The lights were going, the music was blaring, and the two of them were by the bar but there was a problem. Their demon noticed a sketchy creep who'd been eyeing their human all night long… and that simply won't do. So when their human left to use the bathroom…

It was time to take care of the problem.

Lucifer

Though Lucifer was usually less than into the club scene, the MC wanted a change of pace from their usual dates and he did so want to make them happy… At first, he thought he'd just be dealing with the loud noise and crowded atmosphere but then he noticed something else…

A demon had been following them through most of the night, always keeping his distance but staring at the MC far too much for his liking…

This put Lucifer in a bit of an odd position. He didn't exactly want to leave the club because the MC didn't look tired yet, but he also didn't like seeing that cretin following them around…

Yet, of course, it also rubbed his pride the wrong way to go tell him to stop directly. Lucifer would never admit to feeling bothered by some pitiful lesser demon… Never.

But by the time the MC left him to use the restroom, he was at his wit's end. He could see the man had taken a seat at the other end of the bar just to watch them and he was growing irritated… So he had to devise a new strategy.

It's unusual for demons to walk around in their true forms. It's not that it's frowned upon or anything, it's just that it's normally something reserved for big events… or for displays of dominance and control.

So when Lucifer slipped into his demon form in the middle of The Fall, it turned quite a few heads. Truthfully, there was only one head in particular that he wanted his way, and once he got it, he stared the guy down…

It was a taste of the lowlife's own medicine, but so much worse coming from him… The feel of Lucifer's bloody-onyx eyes and chillingly cold smile from across the bar could have made even the strongest men run for the hills…

Needless to say, the demon didn't last very long under the eldest brother's gaze. In fact, he wilted almost immediately before slinking away as quickly as he could… 

A guy not even able to stomach the firstborn's stare? Truly a pathetic coward if Lucifer ever saw one.

He was totally back to normal by the time the MC returned and went back to dancing with them like nothing ever happened… Though his human couldn't help but notice the crowd kept their distance from them for the rest of the night... 

Eh, Hell is just weird sometimes isn't it?

Mammon

Look, Mammon had been trying to have some fun the whole night and for the most part he'd been succeeding except for one thing…

He could sense that asshole still hadn't left them alone. He'd just hover near him and his MC like a hellhound stalking prey… It was annoying. It was creepy…

And it was reeeaaallly getting on his nerves.

When the MC left for the restroom, he was leaning back against the bar scanning the room for their abhorrent admirer while using the tint of his sunglasses to hide his eyes.

It didn't take him long to see the gross fuck sitting alone at a table. Who knew what he was planning... following them home? Taking candid shots of MC? Either way, he wanted to sock him in the jaw…

But, of course, Mammon knew he had to play it just a little smoother than that to stay in the club.

Mammon sauntered over to the man's table and invited himself to sit, kicking his feet up to look casual but knocking his boots against the surface so roughly it made the guy jump... Pathetic.

"Oi, so I've seen ya lookin at my human… Real work of art, eh?" He flashed the guy a fanged grin and watched him sweat for a second before cutting off any answer.

"-'course they are. Don't need to tell me. But I gotta say, you're really ticking me off, bud… We're just tryin to enjoy ourselves but I keep seeing your ugly mug wherever we're at."

He pulled his legs back from the table and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a deck of playing cards.

"Tell ya what, I'm feelin oddly generous so let's play a game. You and me. If ya win, I'll let ya have a night with'em…" He fought the urge to punch the guy when he saw his eyes light up, "but if I win…"

Mammon put the deck on the table then leaned in real close, "I'll flay your skin off and gild ya skeleton in the 4th circle myself… Gold skulls are selling like hotcakes right now." He put every bit of malice he could into the threat, even barring his increasingly sharpening fangs.

The guy must of had a good head on him because he paled immediately before getting up and running from the table. If there's one thing everybody knows about Mammon, it's never play cards with him if he can make even a single Grimm… Chances are, you're gonna lose.

When the MC came back, Mammon flagged them down to their new table and pulled them onto his lap for a little chat before getting more drinks. They're his human. His.

Leviathan

Of course Levi noticed this creep the second that they walked in. He's Envy. He had been hyper-vigilant of all the attention the MC had been receiving since their first step inside. But this guy was… persistent.

He'd been tailing them all night, always finding spots with good vantage points, which of course was sketch as hell but...

Honestly? Levi just didn't like him looking at them. Not at all. In fact, he'd hazard to say he truly hated this complete stranger for how much real estate his eyes were taking up of his precious MC… What gave him the right??

By the time the MC had to use the restroom, he was sitting at the bar seriously contemplating whether or not to just carry them home… He didn't like night clubs anyway, but they seemed to be having fun and they always looked so cute while dancing…

No. He couldn't just take them home. But once they left, he had a much better idea.

It was easy for Levi to slip away from the bar. The asshole was leaned back against a nearby wall and pretty much pulled his phone out the second the MC was out of sight. From there, Levi only had to do what he did best, blend into the background, until he was right next to the guy...

He didn't say anything. He didn't give him any warning or threat. No, no he was far too ticked to be that charitable…

The only indication the man got of how royally he fucked up was the searing pain of Levi's fangs digging into his shoulder, the thirdborn's gloved hand muffling his screams until the venom took hold of his prey.

The last thing that man ever saw, propped up and paralyzed against the wall, was the MC coming back to their docile otaku, who now pulled them into his arms… still shooting the occasional smirk in his victim's direction.

And the last thing he ever heard was the same word his killer whispered to him after his throat became too tight to scream… "Mine."

Satan

This always seemed to happen whenever he took the MC places… They could be walking together in the park and he'd still see lesser demon eyes following them around...

Frankly, it did piss him off to a degree. He knew they never asked to be stared at like a piece of meat, but if he'd go on a rampage every time it happened then they'd never have a quiet date again. So he learned to put up with it… to an extent.

The demon that had been following them that night was really testing his notoriously short patience...

He had tried several tactics to shake the guy as they were dancing but he'd always come right back. He even got more handsy than normal to show, "Hey, this one is mine!" but that had gotten him equally dismal results… It was bordering the line of disrespect now.

He did his best to keep up a friendly face while the MC was with him, but they must have noticed he'd gotten tense. They told him to try and relax a bit before they left for the bathroom…

Oh, he was going to relax alright.

The second they were out of sight, Satan's smile broke into a glare he leveled right at the offending scumbag's table. Of course, seeing the MC had left put the guy's attention elsewhere, but that was his funeral.

Satan knew his time was limited, so he skipped the pleasantries and marched right over to him, slamming his foot down onto the edge of the table with such force it threatened to tip it over then grabbed him by the neck.

"Back. OFF."

It really didn't take much, his reputation preceded him. He felt the guy's pulse skyrocket between his fingers before he let him go.

It was hard not to get a little satisfaction when watching the worthless creep scramble away from him like his life depended on it (as it very much did). He almost considered giving chase just to amp up the fun, but the MC returned sooner than he expected…

A pair of arms around his waist and lips against his cheek were enough to evaporate his anger right then… but it didn't settle his sudden need to mark them in the slightest.

Ultimately, the real question was whether he could wait until they got home to show the world that they were his or if they needed to find somewhere… quieter. No promises, MC.

Asmodeus 

Asmo had dealt with his fair share of admirers, the stalking kind included. Fortunately, dealing with them had always been relatively easy for him (he is a ruler of Hell after all) but one targeting his beloved human…? That was far less acceptable in his eyes.

He caught sight of the beady eyes of the creep while he was dancing with the MC. At first, he thought the guy was looking at him (who wouldn't?) but then he followed his eyeline right to his lovely human companion…

Though he couldn't exactly blame him for staring, he and MC made a fantastic looking pair, he definitely couldn't sit idly by either. People like this are usually bad news and he refused to let any harm come to his MC…!

He was as tactful as ever, though. He liked The Fall and would rather not be banned from returning… He waited patiently for the MC to go to the bathroom before making his way over to the creep, his perfect smile still sitting on his face.

"Excuse me, cutie." He waited for the stalker's eyes to leave his phone and settle on Asmo's own. "Ah, there you are! Good. I had a question for you, I think… oh no, I must have forgotten it! Silly me."

Though he could see the demon was growing annoyed, Asmo stalled for just a few moments longer… just long enough for his bewitching charm to set into his victim's mind.

"Ah! Now I remember. Do you like dogs?" He smiled in satisfaction to see the creeper's head nod slowly. "Oh good! Because I know a very hungry dog right now… Cerberus is his name and I don't think he's had a meal today. Would you be a doll and go feed him for me? He lives in the cave behind the House of Lamentation. You can't miss him."

The demon's head nodded slowly yet again as he rose from his chair and walked out of the club quietly. Quick, painless, and with no messy cleanup!

Well… none that Cerberus wouldn't clean up for him anyway. Asmo returned to the bar with a newly giddy grin on his face... His MC wouldn't be seeing that man ever again~!

Beelzebub 

Beel is very patient. Beel is very kind. Beel is very forgiving. Beel is… really not about this right now...

Unlike his brothers, Beel's easygoing nature made him less quick to pick up on the lingering glances that the MC gets from others. Even when he does notice, he can usually let it slide if looking is all they do (he's the only one who can touch after all).

But even he couldn't miss how wolfishly that demon was staring at them… It made him uncomfortable and the guy just refused to leave them alone…

By the time the MC left Beel at the bar to use the restroom, he was on a level of irritated usually only reserved for when someone denied him food… It was like that jerk had taken a cheese grater to his patience and it was wearing thin…

As much as he knew he could deck him, he didn't want to get them kicked out… The MC was having such a good time, despite the creep's ogling, so he used a different approach…

Being so high up in Hell had its perks and one was that anywhere in town that offered food also had a secret menu… A Beelzebub Only menu (as a precaution so that he wouldn't wreck the place whenever he stopped by). Anything on his menu always had huge portions and The Fall was no exception.

The bartender didn't seem too surprised when he ordered a Drakon Leg, but he was very surprised when he asked to get the full bone too… Not with the meat on it. Just the bone.

Fun Fact: the bones of Drakons are supremely thick and strong enough to be used as clubs.

Even More Fun Fact: it takes an incredible amount of force to snap these bones…

...which Beel did without breaking a sweat… and maintaining eye contact with the creep The. Entire. Time. The sound of the bone snapping in two was almost as deafening as a gunshot and he didn't even flinch.

The demon went running out of the club with his tail between his legs and quickly got swapped out for the MC running back, worried about what made such a loud noise…

Of course, by that time Beel had the bone thrown away and was chowing down on the meat like nothing ever happened so they dropped the subject soon enough...

He may not be as open about when he claims someone as the rest of his family but that's because when push comes to shove, who in their right mind would want to challenge Beel anyway...?

Belphegor 

Nope. Nope. Nope nope nope, he's not having this. Not one bit.

Belphie lacks a lot of the good-natured patience of his twin... Chances are if there's something happening and he's not stopping it, it's just because putting up with it is the path of least resistance…

But there are always exceptions and those are usually reserved for the MC.

Strangers trying to get close or even imagining themselves being with MC really makes his blood boil… He knew them the most. He loved them the most. On just what grounds did some random moron think he could take his place?? Wishful thinking? Keep dreaming, buddy.

So, of course, he wasn't happy when he noticed some asshole staring at the MC like Beel does when he sees a havoc roast...

He kept his poker face up while he was with the MC, but he was devising a plan to take care of him the entire time… One he finally got the chance to enact once the MC went to the bathroom.

He's even better at going unnoticed than Levi, so sneaking his way over to the asshole was a piece of cake. He didn't notice until Belphie casually draped his arm around the guy's neck, hanging his clawed hand dangerously close to the scumbag's heart...

"Having a good time…?"

He could feel a shallow swallow against his arm as he began to slowly apply pressure to his trachea.

"I bet you were… and I was too until I saw you following us… Care to explain yourself?"

"I-I uh-Gah!" 

The guy's voice gets cut off by Belphie's arm getting even tighter, the sharp tips of his claws drumming directly over the man's thundering heart.

"Ugh, that's what you actually sound like? Never mind, it's not worth knowing…" His fingers stopped drumming and slowly began to dig into his skin...

"I'm only going to say this once… If I ever see you tailing my human again, you won't be needing this-" his claws drilled a little deeper into his chest, "-anymore. Am I clear?"

The demon's head nodded as much as his strangled throat would allow and Belphie finally retracted his claws, wiping the blood off on the guy's shirt before letting him go. He fell forward onto all fours before attempting to scramble away as fast as he could...

Belphie watched him go with disinterest on his face, but satisfaction in his heart. Yet another threat to his human dealt with… And they could go back to enjoying their evening together. Alone. Just where his human belonged...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #tw: yandere #tw: possessive behavior #tw: paralysis #tw: violence #tw: mentions of death

[iwaasfairy]

thinking abt art student hanamaki who needs to find a model that’ll pose for him for his anatomy class sketches, and who better than his sweet little sister 🥺 even when he tells you that you’ll have to be fully nude, you don’t even bat an eye! anything to help your precious niichan!

poor hironii, his fingers trembling as you start to groan and huff from holding the position 🥺🥺 ohh if he kept his eyes closed for jus a second longer, he’b b able to manipulate all those pretty sounds into a lil vision of you lying underneath him, looking so cute n pliant 🥺

𝙸𝙵 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙳𝙾

art student hanamaki (´-ω-`) want him to make little sister his muse, praise and worship that pretty body until you’re shaking from his touch. thank you clare for indulging in our art student hiro again ily

tw incest, nonconsensual ‘pictures’

Nothing is more embarrassing. He’s supposed to be good at this. Supposed to be a professional in training. But his hands are so goddamn shaky that it’s become useless to put pen to paper entirely. He made you take a break, wrapped you back up in the soft robe and handed you some water, but now he’s stuck in the corner of the couch with your head resting against his arm, and for some reason that’s worse. Your chest and the line of your neck is put down on paper only because he had to busy his hands while staring at you. And he knows it’s wrong, he knows too, but you’re so precious when you’re unaware and blissfully ignorant. “Can I watch while we pause, niichan?” you ask, long lashes splayed out above your pretty pupils that look blown so wide.

He can’t help himself. “Of course, c’mere.” You crawl into his lap when he opens his arms, trying not to react when you shift around on his already hardening cock over and over until you find a comfortable space. After a while he has to grab for your hip to hold you still. “Stop wiggling though, I— can’t focus.” You pout, but relent, slumping into him with one arm swung around his shoulders so you can look, and your knees pulled to your chest. You reach up to mindlessly pick at the dark undercut while he draws, only the sound of the pencil and your breathing in the room for a while. He’s too tense to draw nice smooth lines, but you don’t seem to care much.

After a while, you rest your nose against his neck. “Are the other girls you draw like this better models?”

He almost chokes on his air at your croaky tone, pulling back to watch you. “What? No— why- why would you say that?”

As you shift towards him more, he has to bite through a groan, the curve of your ass pressing down right on his length. It takes too much effort not to rut back into you just a little, just to relieve some pressure. You start picking at the edge of his sweater, looking at the piercings at his collar bones instead of his eyes. “Because you almost never ask me, only when no one else is available,” you mumble, sinking into yourself a little more.

“Oh,” he drops his arms at that, putting aside the sketchbook and pencil. His hands hover at your sides then, and again you shift in his lap to turn towards him more. Fuck, it’s almost like you’re doing it on purpose now, but he knows you better. You just crave your big brother’s attention, always have. You always have tried too hard to gain his approval, and it’s lead him— thinking about you like this. It’s fucked up. When he doesn’t respond, you pull your hands away from him, already starting to apologize, but he grabs your wrists to keep you from leaving. “No, no, listen. Hey,” he says, waiting until you look, “you want me to… to ask you for this stuff?”

“I want you to think I’m good enough for it, niichan,” you pout, curling back up to his body even closer. This way your tits are pressed up against his chest and your naked body right on top of his lap and- it’s increasingly tempting to slip out of the room to go jerk off to the thought of you with the second. His pretty, innocent little sister. “Want Hiro nii to pick me instead of other people,” you say. That’s enough to have him tipping you over on the couch, ignoring your squeak as he comes to hover over you, slotting his hips between your legs.

“What the hell does that mean?” he asks, breathing in and out deeply as you stare up at him, your one hand on his chest. “You’re naked in my lap telling me to pick you. Wh- what the hell are you talking about, huh? I’m your big brother. Aren’t you thinking some weird things, huh?” Your wide eyes flick between his for a moment as he holds your wrists down beside your head, thigh coming up between your legs, breaths coming out shallow. But then you fight against the grip enough to brush your soft fingertips up his bicep and tracing over his tattoos with mindless swirls, and wrap your legs slowly around his waist. Hiro nii’s breathing stops completely for a moment when the soft of your naked pussy pushes up against his hard cock through just sweats.

“I- I found the other sketchbook, Hiro nii,” you whisper at him then, and in an instant everything feels like it’s crumbling around him. The other sketchbook. The one with his naked drawings of you when you’re in bed and defenseless, those with the quick doodles of you in the bath when you leave the door open and think he’s not looking, with drawings of you and him in bed and you rocking yourself on his cock— that sketchbook? He shivers when you seem to tighten your legs around him a little more again, hard length twitching between your bodies.

‘I’m sorry,’ is the first thing at the tip of his tongue, but you’re faster. Leaning in to bring your mouth right up to his, clinging to his shoulders. “You want to do this, right?” you say, and then you press forward until he can taste your lips. A few gentle pecks at first, until he regains himself to feel you pulling him closer, his fat cock between your legs and your nails digging into him through his sweater with a whine. “Please, niichan,” you pout, rolling your hips to him and pulling a groan from his throat. “Make me want it too, Hiro nii. I can be good for you.” Again you buck your hips to his, and again, until he has to pull away for a second to inspect you. Your robe is open and almost completely slid off one shoulder, your chest heaving and… your cunny glistening with slick. “See? Want you,” you bring your hand down then, spreading open your lips with two fingers and trailing them back up to your clit.

“I know you touch yourself to me, I walked in on you once. So show me, please.” That’s all he needs to pull his sweatpants down, sweater up and to drop forward, going back to between your legs as he kisses you breathless. Over and over, as he hurries to rub the drooling head of his cock into the warm wetness between your legs. You whine softly when he pushes inside the head, pulling away from his mouth to drop your face back and let your mouth fall open. He grabs your tits with both hands when you allow him to go deeper into your pretty, wet pussy, laving kisses all over.

“Fuck, my little sister’s too pretty, drives me crazy,” he grunts, watching your expression when he shoves himself in the last part of the way. Your walls stretched around his cock, clinging to him when he pulls back out. “Fucking- shit, you’re so tight.” And then when you cry his name when he thrusts back into you, he squeezes your skin between his fingers until his fingertips leave marks, grabbing onto your hips and yanking you back down onto him to start a hard, unforgiving pace. The slaps of skin meeting skin are loud, and so are his grunts as he mumbles your name. “Niichan’s gonna fuck your pretty, tight cunt until you never want anyone else again. Promise.”

#tw.incest #💫ch.hanamaki #🥧makki.chan

[phoenixblack89]

Blank Canvas

Travis is definitely one of my favourite characters the gorgeously talented Mr. Reedus has portrayed. 

TAGS: @fandomsaremykryponite @autocon23 @lilythemadqueen @darylsgirl @writingdeadangel

WARNING: Just pure filthy smut 

The incessant beeping of your alarm clock woke you as you tried in vain to stay under the covers of your bed. Your head throbbed in pain, a lecture about hangovers and the dangers of drinking by your mother echoing in your memory.

It was all Derek's fault.

You would have been quite happy to have the loft to yourself last night while your three roommates went drinking but no. He insisted that you come along to make sure Travis didn't have another 'discussion with gravity' as he liked to call them. Needless to say all of you ended up slightly more than drunk, hell Travis was literally dragged into his room out cold last night.

The only thing making you feel better was the fact he too would be horridly hungover as you at the lecture.

"Y/N? You awake?"

"Just..." You croakily replied, throwing your pillow over your shoulder.

The door creaked loudly as Travis opened it and slowly, holding his head, made his way to you and climbed under the covers.

"Can we skip today?"

"Travis sweetums, you know we can't." You groan, turning and putting your head on his chest lightly. The crush you harbored on the quieter, shyer roommate was nothing secret. Both Jones and Derek knew, Travis seemed oblivious to it however. If he knew he wouldn't do his usual hangover routine which involved him climbing into your bed to snuggle and complain about his head until the afternoon. As it was you weren't complaining. You loved feeling the heat through your body from the innocent act by him.

"Fuck it. Let's skip. We can always catch up. We'll just say we ate dodgy food again. Blame Derek's cooking." You laughed and wrapped an arm around his waist and sighed.

"Shhh my head hurts. Let's go back to sleep" He wrapped his arms around you and closed his eyes.

/*/

The slam of the door jolted you awake. Fucking noisy bastards you thought, glancing at the clock and groaning. Travis rubbed his eyes and sat up slowly. Derek kicked the door open and bounced on the bed, crushing you and Travis back into the mattress.

"See you two finally fucked!" He laughed.

You and Travis both turned bright red and you shoved Derek hard to get out from under him. You stood and pointed at the door.

"Get out!"

"Hey I'm joking! Nice shorts by the way." He laughed, leaning on one elbow to look you over lustifully. You huffed and slammed the door as you entered the bathroom.

Derek was such an ass. If he didn't mind you being late on the rent occasionally you would of moved out but you knew you'd never find somewhere as awesome as the loft. Especially when it came to your art supplies. The space for your canvases was your priority. Hours and weeks and months were spent on your art and they needed special storage to ensure they didn't get ruined. Derek, thankfully, had the perfect conditions for this. Oil, acrylic, watercolour, whatever your classical and fine arts class called for you had on hand within reach. The last place you lived meant you had to rent out a storage unit and numerous pieces of art had been lost because of the shit climate and vermin. You shuddered as you showered, remembering Travis helping you clear the storage unit to move in and discovering one of your favourite pieces had been converted into a comfortable two up two down by a collection of rats. That hadn't been a pleasant sight.

Wrapping a towel around you, you exited the bathroom to a thankfully empty bedroom. The laughs of your roommates reached your ears and you smiled lightly, dressing quickly in your usual baggy clothes before throwing up your hair and sitting at your desk. You sent an email to your professor for the weeks assignment and leaned back, your head ending upside down as you looked at the large blank canvas behind you. You'd bought the thing on a complete whim. You didn't know what to do with it now you had it. And honestly, you'd forgotten you'd even bought it in the first place until the delivery men hauled it into your living room. Maybe you should just give it to Travis. He'd know what to do with it.

"Hey you."

"Hello Miss Jones. What can I do for you today?"

You knew what she was going to say as soon as she closed the door. When you gonna tell him how you feel... Blah. Blah. Blah.

"Before you say it. No. Things are good the way they are. I ain't gonna rock the boat."

"Y/N"

"Nope... Not a chance Jonesy. Ain't telling my cute, sweet, sexy as fuck, roommate I share a vast majority of art classes with I like him. Not happening."

"You should. He's a sweetie."

"I know. That's why I can't. I ain't his type anyway. He prefers thin blonds."

"Oh hunny, you have no idea what he likes." Jones smiled and patted your shoulder lightly. "Maybe you should ask for his help on that huge monster of a canvas." She smirked as she left.

Frowning, you bit your lip and considered her suggestion. Jones smirked as she passed Travis and winked back at you.

Shit. Had he heard?

"You... Erm... Need help with the... Assignment?" He stuttered, his head ducked lowly as you blushed.

"Er yea... Later... I... I... I need to look it over some more.."

He nodded and smirked as he tapped against your doorframe before spinning on his heel and leaving. As soon as you were sure he was out of sight and earshot yoh banged your head forward on the desk with a groan.

"Fuck my life."

/:/

"Lift! Careful! Careful" You huffed as you directed Travis and Derek, who were lifting the canvas into Travis's room for the project that you'd come up with. You laughed as Derek bashed his arm against the door.

"Remind me to not let you get another one this big!" Travis huffed, setting the monster down against his wall and flexing his thick fingers.

"Its not that bad! It's gonna look awesome!" You laughed quietly, tying your Y/H/C into a high ponytail and smiling as Derek left grumbling. "Come on Travis. Let's get this baby started."

"What exactly are we doing again?"

You shook your head and tugged the canvas into a more pleasant angle, last thing you wanted or needed was to injure yourself by overstretching yourself. Travis glanced over his shoulder as he picked up his paintbrush, twirling it between his fingers with a cigarette hanging from his sinful mouth. Your eyes gazed over his wide shoulders and down his back. The black vest clung to the muscles in his back and tucked into the overalls he was wearing, the sleeves tied tight around his narrow hips. His boots banged against the wood floor loudly as he tapped his foot expectantly.

"Y/N?"

"Huh?!" You startled out of your thoughts of how he'd feel under your hands as your nails dragged scarlet lines down that delicious looking back. "Oh erm... Well I was thinking maybe... Erm... A sex scene but not straight up porn. Like two lovers in an embrace kinda thing out in nature... Does that make sense?"

"Hmm... So... Summit like this?" He asked, quickly sketching a rough plan of two lovers on a scrap of paper. The lines were sharp with his haste, the angles a bit off but it was perfect. The woman's head thrown back as the man's lips kissed her neck, the hands gripping onto the males broad shoulders, her leg thrown over his hip.

You smiled widely and began sketching it on to the canvas roughly. Travis smiled, flicked his cigarette and joined you. Each of you taking one of the figures to draw. Travis's eyes lingering on your rapidly shifting hands. He loved watching you loose yourself to your creativity. It was as beautiful as the sun rise to him. The look of pure joy and concentration on your face, highlighted your beauty. The dimples in the corner of your mouth as you placed your pencil between your teeth drove him wild. He couldn't help but wonder what they'd look like as you sucked his cock. He ducked his head to the side as he felt his cock getting harder at the mere thought.

/:/

You backed away from the canvas and tilted your head to the side. Something was off with the sketch and it was bugging you no end. You just couldn't put your finger on what it was. Was it the angle? The pose? Was it something small and seemingly insignificant? Was it because you'd taken the male figure where Travis the female?

"Something is off about it... I just can't see what it is though..." Travis agreed, another cigarette dangling from his fingertips.

"Yea... I see it but I don't. Ya know. Maybe we should... Nah... That's stupid." You blushed and ran your hands over your face. Your eyes were a tad itchy and tired from the low light in the room plus the smoke. Travis chewed his lip and walked to you slowly.

"What?"

"Well... Maybe we should try the pose out. See if its because we didn't have a proper reference for it." Your eyes stayed on the floor, running over the numerous splatters of multicoloured paint that had been dipping onto it. Travis felt a lump in his throat as he shifted his weight nervously. He nodded his head upwards and slowly stalked towards you, licking his lip nervously. You shifted closer and with a glance at the canvas lifted your leg to his hip, pushing yourself closer to him. His fingers hesitated for a moment before wrapping around your thigh tightly. His lips slightly red from being chewed dropped to your neck before pulling away sharply.

"Trav?"

"Hold up. Camera. Can't hold pose and look at it at the same time."

He rushed and grabbed his camera, setting it up on a tripod and grabbed the clicker to be able to take the photo. He smiled as he reached for you and you flushed, feeling the heat from his crotch against your core as he lifted your leg back into place across his hip. His mouth once more just brushing your neck as you ran your hand through his short dark tresses. The camera flashed suddenly and you backed away as Travis quickly hooked the memory card into his computer and gave a laugh at the blurry image on the screen.

"Still looks wrong. Maybe we should lose the overalls?" He suggested quietly, swallowing audibly as the image became more focused. You nodded and blushed, slipping the boots off your feet and shrugging the dark paint splattered overalls off your hips to pool on the floor beside his bed. Your throat went dry as his gaze ran along your legs, over your plain black panties and up your stomach to the thin white cotton vest you had on. Your nipples were clearly visible through the fabric, a dusty rose colour and hard from the tingle of arousal running rampant through you.

Travis's eyes darken as he removed his own clothes down to his boxers before returning to your side once more. You shuddered as his fingertips ran up your leg to grip you up around his hip once more. His eyes drilled into yours as he lowered his head to your neck. Your eyes closed, feeling his breath ghosting over your pulse point. You felt his cock harden against your core as your nails lightly scrapped his scalp and sucked in a gasp. His lips brushed against your neck as the camera flashed. His hand tightened in the back of your neck as he trailed kisses up your neck before pulling back to look into your eyes. You bit your lip and nudged your nose against his lightly.

"Travis..."

"You... God... Y/N I like you. I've thought about you and me so much. I wanna..."

"Shut up and kiss me idiot."

You smiled at the smirk gracing his face as he did as he was told, pushing his hips into yours tighter. He grabbed your other leg and pulled you up into his arms, walking forward to his bed before dipping down onto his knees. His lips felt heavenly after so long of a wait. You nipped his lip lightly and pushed your tongue into his mouth as he gasped.

He growled and thrust against you as his hands ripped your vest from your chest and licked at your nipple. You grabbed his hair and tugged him back to your mouth as you pushed his boxers down his hips and felt the heavy, thick weight of his raging hard cock.

His lips left a trial along your neck, sucking and nipping gently as he ground his hips against yours slowly. A thrill of desire flared in your core, making your clit twitch against the cotton covering them. His fingers lightly tapped along the edge of your panties before gripping them tightly and dragging them harshly down your hips. Your hand ran up and down his length as he leaned his forehead against yours, his breaths coming out as soft groans.

"Fuck... I ain't gonna last if ya keep that up!" He moaned, feeling his orgasm rapidly approaching. With a slight growl, he grabbed your hand and pulled it off himself, slamming it down above your head and panted against your neck. "Fuck..."

"Travis... Please..." You moaned, wiggling under his weight. He smirked against your collarbone as he began kissing down your chest. He shifted his hips and aligned himself with your dripping core. In one swift thrust he buried himself inside your aching pussy as you gave a very loud moaning shriek. Your nails raked down his back as he set a hard, fast pace. His fingers digging harshly into your hips, sure to leave bruises for days.

You gave a loud moan as you felt your core tingling and fluttering around his hard cock, your pleasure sky rocketing towards the orgasmic bliss it craved.

Your release crashed over you as his fingers dug crescents into your hips as his thrusts became harder and rougher. His head leaned back as he enjoyed the sensation of your walls spasming around him, your mouth held open in a silent scream as pleasure rushed through your entire nervous system.

You pulled him towards you and crashed your lips against his as his hips began loosing their rhythm, his own release rapidly approaching. He gave a groan and pulled out, gripping himself tightly and splashing your stomach with his cum. He fell down beside you panting then chuckled.

"Fuck..."

"Yea." You replied with a breath laugh, your hand pushing your sweat soaked hair off your face and grimacing slightly at the stickiness coating you. "We should probably clean up.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. It was worth it."

"Yea... Definitely. We should of done that ages ago." He said smiling, leaning up onto one elbow to look into your blissed out face, his other hand using his shirt to clean his mess from your skin. You pushed your hand through his hair and drew his lips to yours before pulling away and biting your lip with a smirk.

"Maybe we should get some more inspiration for that canvas huh?" You said flirty, wiggling an eyebrow up and down. He glanced behind him towards the canvas before laughing and diving on top of you again attacking your neck with his teeth. You gave a loud laugh.

The canvas certainly wouldn't be blank for much longer that was for sure.

#normanreedus #PhoenixBWrites #norman reedus fanfiction #Travis Gossip #travis x reader #Gossip smut #smut fanfiction

[multiplefandomsblog]

Can i request how different idv characters would act as roommates? Eli, Helena, Luca, Edgar, Vera, Norton and Fiona if thats alright with you :DDD

warnings? kinda suggestive, crack fic, cussing

mod toby and mod bread helped me do this fic, its a bit all over the place but it was fun so no regrets

Eli Clark

I feel like being roommates with eli would be pretty pleasant

everything would be clean all the time

he’s the type of kid that everyone wants on their team because of how good he is at everything

so if you scored a roomie like him, you got super lucky

if you left a mess he wouldn’t get mad, he would probably just clean it up himself and leave a sticky note that said to clean up ur mess next time(but not like, passive aggressively)

ofc you would clean up after the cute sticky note, bc who can say no to this bb? 

If you don’t clean up tho, brooke rose will probably shit on your hair when u sleep

tbh you’ve always wondered what eli looked like without his eye mask

so one time when Eli was sleeping, you went next to his bed to try and take his eye mask off and see what he looks like.

You took off the mask and found out it was a dummy 

a few seconds later you heard footsteps and you turned around

Eli came up behind you and knocked you out with a bat

you two don’t speak of that day.

Brooke kept screeching last night, and you got no sleep at all, so I guess we’re having chicken for dinner 

Unless you had a good reason, then eli and brooke prob won’t mind cleaning up after u

I can imagine you going back to your shared room in the manor after a rough match and seeing eli just sweeping the room in an apron and a cloth covering his hair looking like cinderella

“Honey, I’m home!”

basically if you lived with eli, you basically had a husband/mom/wife???

If you came back to the manor, beaten up and bruised from the last match he would prob pester you and nag you

while cleaning up you wounds he would prob say, “You have to be more careful, im always worrying. You’re gonna give your mom a heart attack!”

seriously tho, don’t worry this bb, he would actually have a heart attack

Helena Adams

i think living with helena would probably feel like some sort of kdrama

she might be a bit clumsy and trip over a few things, falling into your arms bc of her blindness

though she might be doing it on purpose

If you moved things in the room without telling her, she would probably get mad

for example, you move the sofa chair a little bit to the right bc you thought it looked better

helena walks in the room, sits down on the sofa chair and ends up accidentally sitting on the sofa chair arm rest instead

resulting in her bottom hurting and a very long talk with you

she got her revenge weeks later

she had asked you to check under her bed for monsters because she couldn’t do it herself

you were teasing her for still being afraid of monsters but looked underneath anyways

low and behold, 

she put a mirror there.

will even wack you with her cane if you’re being annoying

Her cane is pretty affective in shutting you up lol only sometimes

“Hey Helena, are you braille? ‘cause i can read you like a book when i touch yo-” *wack* *moans*

helena: ...

you: ...

helena: ...im leaving

you: heleNA WAIT-

One time everyone at the manor was celebrating Helena’s birthday with a piñata, 2 seconds later she was beating the shit out of Luca with her cane

even after everyone’s been yelling that he wasn’t the piñata

One time you and Helena had a staring contest because you were both bored.

She won.

sometimes to get her close to you, you would sit on the sofa chair super quietly and still

And then you’d wait for her to come and sit on your lap thinking it was the chair

and it would work 

she would probably sit on your lap for a few minutes, confused as to why the chair felt elevated

and then she would feel your arms snake around her waist

and she would- “whAT THE FUCK- SCREEEEEEE”

she would probably make a cute bird noise and then just sit there, not knowing if she should leave or not

in her head, “THEIR LAP IS SO WARM OH MY GOD WHY DIDN’T THIS HAPPEN SOONER”

in real life, “let go of me you pathetic mortal”

you’d beg her to stay on ur lap longer and she would cave in

but she didn’t stay because she liked you! baka

Luca Balsa

living with luca will probably be the opposite of eli’s

messes, everywhere

inventions, everywhere

at one point though you had a sneaking suspicion he might be a bunch of rats.

 you saw him outside crouching beside you guys’ room with a bunch of rats coming out his sleeve and running into a crack in the building

“its for science!”

he’s also super scared of helena

Luca doesn’t like to admit it, but he got his purple eye from Helena after he made a bad pick-up line for the blind. 

She’s been chanting “one of us” and threatening to “finish the job” ever since.

he’s basically a big baby that needs to be taken care of

i feel like he might break down sometimes from not doing his invention right, or feeling insecure

but i guess his rats are there to help

but since he had a roomie, he wouldn’t be able to cry on his own

and its a good thing because he doesnt have to do everything by himself anymore

he learns to ask for help when living with you

you’d help him through his episodes and he would slowly start to become more reliant on you

if he was feeling a bit moody, he would unconsciously try to find you to cuddle with

if you lived with him, you’d probably have to be very responsible

luca would have his own bed that he would never sleep in because he wouldn’t be able to sleep without you in his arms

everytime he shifts in bed, you’d feel a tiny shock

it kinda bothered you so

you pranked Luca by touching him with those zappy ring things you’d get from a dollar store.

You just wanted that mother fucker to get a taste of his own medicine

he would basically be a puppy that follow you around, he would constantly old your head

probably refers to you as his

like if you downed a shot that barmaid made for you, he would be like, “EYYYY THATS MY BABy-heurghrhgh”

now you have a drunk baby that you have to take care of

You tried giving luca a shower afterwards, now you know how it feels getting electrocuted.

And trust me, Luca and water do not mix.

good luck have fun

Edgar Valden

living with edgar would consist of 

1. edgar being super specific of what was his and what you can’t touch

2. big tsundere baby

3. sketches of you hiding in his sketch book

if you lived with edgar, you’d have to be super patient with his nagging or else you’d have to find a new roomie

he’s constantly nagging you

but if you are tired of it and give him the silent treatment, he’d probably just nag you even more for attention

you need to give this man attention or else

you ignored him for a whole day once because he said something mean

he decided to give you some milk and cookies as an apology

the ‘milk’ was his muddy paint water and the cookies were expired

i feel like one day you two would be arguing about who moved his stuff, your argument being he unconsciously moved his stuff, his argument being you moved his stuff

you guys were so heated up you didn’t notice how close you two were getting

edgar ended up pouncing on you like a feral dog

though when you woke up, you both agreed that you ended up winning the argument

when you’re reading or just doing nothing, he’d ask to sketch you or paint you

i-its not because he thinks you’re beautiful or anything

its just because he thinks that your whole self is aesthetically pleasing and pleasing to the eye- but not because he thinks you’re pretty!

sometimes when he was super focused on his art, he wouldn’t notice your figure slowly approach him

you’d boop his nose and watch as he froze

wh- hoW DARE YOU LAY YOUR HANDS ON A VALDEN

secretly tho, he really loves it when you do that.

like

do it more

please or not whatever

Vera Nair

Vera would probably be a bit anxious when she heard she was gonna get a roomie

but she would do her best to be at her best behaviour

she’s very well mannered and is very polite

she’d kinda be the type to silently care for you

like, she’d notice the little things that bothered you and made sure they wouldn’t bother you ever again

like, if you stubbed your toe alot, she would give everything that you could stub your toe with, rubber covers or socks

but she wouldn’t tell you it was her even though it was obviously her

if you fell asleep on your desk instead of your bed, she would probably but a blanket on ur shoulders and a pillow underneath where you left your head

she’s the thoughtful type

before you went for matches, she’d give you a cheek kiss for good luck

and if you did the same, she would probably play it cool but then panic a second later.

theykissedmetheykissedmetheykissedme-

im sorry this is short idk what to do for her-

Norton Campbell

oh BOY

once norton starts to warm up to you, you guys are basically married

like there was no proposal, just “do you take this man to be your husband- you can’t say no”

he would probably take care of you alot

even when you didn’t need it

i can do it mysel- no

but actually, before he warmed up to you he was pretty cold, 

he felt himself growing feelings for you

and he didn’t want to because he was afraid he would lose you and he would have to go through the heartbreak of losing someone all over again

he would leave the room to go hang out somewhere else

he would keep his distance and not talk with you much

but there was this one time where you woke up with him around you, you just pretended you didn’t wake up and relished in the feeling

it took some time, but eventually he warmed up to you

though he still constantly worries about you, he doesn’t want you to get hurt

during matches he would always take hits for you, and just stay closer to you in general

he wanted to make sure you got back to the manor safely, it didn’t matter if he was sent back via rocket chair

he always put you as his #1 priority

he also gets jealous super easily, he’s scared someone will swoop you away from him

so to make sure everyone knows that you belong to him, he’d give you his clothes to wear

not only do his clothes look adorable on you, everyone will know that you’re his

probably pester you a lot if you tripped or got a paper cut

“yoU COULD HAVE DIED” “IT WAS A PAPER CUT”

Once, Norton got stuck to the fridge like a magnet for 5 hours

He’s been using that as an excuse to force you to bring him his snacks every since.

pick up lines are a definite yes

sometimes you’d be shitting and you’d hear outside the bathroom door a faint,

“My love for you is like Diarrhea.” “norton what the fuck im shitting-” “i just can’t hold it in” cue camera zooming in on his face and him smirking into the camera “OH MY GOD WHY”

like Luca, his bed is useless. he always needs you in his arms when sleeping, he wants to protect you and just feel you closer to him

puts him at ease

kisses? hell yes.

if you had to go to a match without him he would send you off with a ton of gross wet kisses on your face ew

He might even try to seduce you into staying

“norton I’m gonna lose morality points!” “fuck your morality points, i wanna smash”

Fiona Gilman

I feel like fiona would probably super psyched when she heard about sharing rooms with you

I headcanon her to be super bubbly and social but when she is alone with her thoughts she’d probably regret everything 

“why did i say that why did i say that why did i say that-”

probably prays to god, “please kill me”

she tries her best to make sure you’re comfortable

she doesnt make a big mess and she makes sure she cleans up after herself, overall a pretty cool roommate

except for those times for when she tries to babtize you while you’re showering-

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING” “THE LORD SHALL CLEANSE YOUR SOUL WITH HOLY WATER-” “what the f- iS THIS ALCOHOL???”

this has happened too many times^^^

one time she accidentally created an ultra portal in the toilet. 

Y’all still have no idea where it leads, and no intent of finding out. 

Although, Kreacher has been complaining of some nasty stuff appearing in his room

i feel like during matches she would always call you with her portals to say hi or just give you a small kiss

it stopped being cute when she went through the portal and ended up seeing the hunter instead of you

mentally scarred from that

sometimes things would disappear in your shared room too, not only the toilet

you’re convinced she has a bunch of hidden portals in the room

like, one time you dropped a pencil and it went through the ground.

you never saw it again

Or you know that missing sock?

Portaled.

i dont know what this turned into

#identity v #identity v fluff #identity v angst #identity v prisoner #identity v prospector #identity v norton campbell #norton campbell #helena adams #minds eye #minds eye x reader #norton x reader #norton campbell x reader #luca x reader #luca balsa x reader #identity v fanfiction #identity v headcanons #headcanons #helena x reader #helena adams x reader #prisoner x reader #prospector x reader #edgar x reader #edgar #edgar valden #painter idv #edgar valden x reader #painter x reader #luca #norton #priestess

[apatheticanvas67482]

Even When You Hide

Happy @starrynightdeancas​ celebration day to @firefly124​! I got really busy over the last couple of weeks, so its not as good as I wanted it to be for you, but I hope you like it anyways. (also I had to abandon my sketches and normal art style today due to technical difficulties, so the art is a bit rubbish, sorry, if i get round to finishing the other one in my normal style when i get home to my computers, I will send it your way) BUT ANYWAYS I hope you love it (the fic not the art, hides) and I think Sophie is the dopest for putting this whole thing together.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Castiel

Tropes: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss

Based: Somewhere after 10.03, when Crowley give Cas grace and Dean is cured of Demon-ness, and 10.18, when Cas gets his grace back. I did not mention the Mark of Cain though. 

Song: I See You - Missio

Word count: 2.2K

I see you when you're down And depressed, just a mess I see you when you cry When you're shy When you want to die I see you when you smile It takes a while At least you're here I see you

It had been 25 minutes since Dean had sent Cas to pick out the paint for his room. He put down all the sheets and lined the sockets and skirting boards with tape and was now sitting at the foot of the bed, tapping his foot to a silent beat.

Dean hadn’t known what to get the angel from the store so there were currently 12 pots of paint, all different colours, sitting on shelves in the garage. He chewed on the inside of his cheek absentmindedly, picturing the scrunch of Cas’ eyebrows and the tilt of Cas’ head as he scowled at the cans.

‘Dean. What does it matter if the room is winter blue or baby blue?’ Dean could almost hear him ask it - the gravel of Cas’ voice rumbled in the back of his mind. Dean shook his head, smiling, and headed to see what the hold-up was.

What he found was a mess.

“Fuck. Shit!” Pots of paint were scattered across the room. Most were broken open, stripes of paint led away from a large metal cabinet that had toppled over onto the Impala and cast the tins in all directions.

“Cas!”

Dean ran forward, holding his breath. The cabinet had smashed right through Baby’s windshield, fracture lines spanned what was left leaving chunks of glass suspended in the laminated frame. The bonnet had been completely crushed, practically folded in half, and the corners had torn into the paintwork. Dean would be seething except he couldn’t breathe. He threw his weight behind his shoulder, forcing it under the shelves and straining until black dots danced in his vision.

“Cas!” Dean collapsed, his efforts futile. “Cas! Where the hell are you?!”

And then he heard it – the quick and broken, but quiet sobs of an angel. Dean whirled around o fast his neck cracked and then he crawled, actually crawled on his hands and knees, towards the sound.

Behind the impala, Cas was perched on the balls of his feet with his trench coat pooling around him. Dean had never seen him cry before, not like this. There was a streak of paint that ran from just under his left eye to the corner of his mouth. Where his tear tracks converged with it, the drops turned blue and fell to the ground like grace. Dean watched, transfixed for a moment, before scrambling closer.

“Cas.” Dean’s voice louder than he meant it, startled Cas out of his fugue state. His hands, which had been moving, stilled instantly as he looked back at Dean with wide shiny eyes.

“I don’t want to go, Dean.” The cracks in Cas’ voice tugged at Dean’s soul. He didn’t understand.

Dean shook his head. “What?”

Cas’s eyes only grew larger as the hunter reached out, “Dean, please don’t make me go.” His arm hung in the air, terrified of doing the wrong thing. He knew Cas couldn’t fly anymore but it had never stopped feeling as though their conversations were timed, except Dean couldn’t see the numbers on the clock. He was always waiting for Cas to vanish. “I want to stay.”

Bile rose in the back of Dean’s throat and his hand dropped like dead weight between them as he realised what Cas was saying, what he was thinking. He thought back to months before. ‘You can’t stay.’ He’d said, the same bile rising in his throat as now. He looked at Cas in his human clothes, that goddamn hoodie., and watched as Cas’ heart broke. Watched as the hurt played openly on his features, defences down. And then, he’d looked away. Dean remembers looking anywhere but into his best friend’s eyes, knowing that if he did his resolve would surely crumble. Now, all he wanted was for Cas to look at him, but the angel had gone from a deer in the headlights to refusing to lift his head higher than his shoulders.

“I can fix it, I promise.” Cas’s hands started moving again. His fingers shook as he tried to slot several pieces of broken glass back together. Small cuts littered his palms, bleeding freely as Cas worked.

“Cas. Cas, why-” Dean swallowed around the lump of panic still tuck in his throat, “Why aren’t you healing? Is it the grace? Is it failing?” His hands had found there way between them again. They hovered uselessly over Cas’ own. Cas was shaking his head, but Dean wasn’t sure if it was in answer to his question.

“Cas?” Dean didn’t know what to do, until he did. Taking a shaky breath, he allowed his panic to consume him for one second more before he tabled it.

“Cas,” His voice was gentle but solid, “Cas, stop it. Please,” - Dean stilled Cas’ hands with his own. He turned them palm up and, careful not to catch any of the cuts, unfurled the angel’s trembling fingers with is thumb – “Just stop.”

Cas was still refusing to meet his eyes, but he’d stopped shaking his head. He stared down at the pieces of glass and Dean followed his gaze. He recognised them as the broken remains of a small glass statue of an angel. Sammy had presented the thing to a few years ago after he’d nabbed it from some rogue crossroad demon’s second-hand shop to bully Dean with. ‘A guardian angel to save me from your moping when Cas is away,’ Sam had said, and Dean had shoved it deep down inside Baby’s trunk. That was until they moved into the bunker and Dean had felt some strange compulsion to place the glass angel atop the recently toppled shelves. Cas had been there, tilting his head at him. ‘Present from Sam,’ He’d practically growled before running away.

“Hey,” One of Dean’s hands left Cas’ in favour of poking him gently in the cheek. Cas jerked backwards slightly, finally meeting Dean’s eyes. He was still crying but less so. Dean nodded, “I need you to listen to me. You. Are. Not. Going. Anywhere. Ever. Again.” He waved his free hand at the mess around him. “All this, none of it matters,” Dean moved his other thumb in circles, steeling himself. This moment is what all his years watching chick flicks in secrecy had been preparing him for. “You, Cas, are what matters. To me.”

Dean held his breath for one, two, three seconds. Cas hiccoughed, blinking one, two, three times as the last of his tears fell from his cheeks.

“Why aren’t you healing?” Dean whispered into the space between them, a little afraid of anything louder.

“I didn’t want to waste m…” Cas looked lost, “It.” Dean waited.

“When Metatron took my grace from me, he left me human. Except I’m not human. Jimmy though, Jimmy was human, fragile. Without my powers, I’m,” Cas struggled with his words, he looked away. “I’m a baby in a trench coat.” Fuck. “I am nothing. And I can’t go back to that. I can’t keep steeling my kin’s grace from them, reducing them as I have been reduced. I can’t.” He dropped his head to his chest once more. “But I also don’t want to die.

“Castiel.” Dean swerved back into Cas’ eyeline as he spoke, “You are not nothing,” Cas stared at him, not believing.

“You are not human. You’re not Jimmy. But you’re not your grace either.” Dean was going to make him understand how wrong he’d been sitting in Eve’s diner. “You’re not your vessel and you’re not your powers. When I look at you-” The hunter swallowed, “When I look at you, I just see… you. I see you, Cas.”

He looked down at their hands, feeling dizzy. He couldn’t believe how mushy he was being or how much he didn’t mind. He felt like Colin Firth. “As for the rest of it, we’ll figure it out. We always do. The grace situation… Well,” Dean smiled, small. “We’ll make it up as we go.” Dean lifted Cas’s hands to his lips and pressed a kiss into a single cut. After a moment, grace began to shine beneath the skin and the wounds pulled themselves closed.  Beaming now, he leant back and ran his thumb over the soft new skin, turning their hands so their finger interlocked.

“Dean, I-”

“I made a mistake,” Dean interrupted, “I have made so many mistakes. But, kicking you out like has to be one of the worst. No explanation, no assistance, no nothing. It’s the wrongest I’ve ever been in my life. Gadreel gave me an ultimatum but that’s not an excuse. Doesn’t even come close to justifying what I did. I should’ve told you what was going on. Maybe if I had tried, for even a second, to communicate, we could have avoided a lot of pain. I should’ve – I should’ve done a lot. But I didn’t, and that wasn’t good enough.’

“Dean, it’s okay.”

“No, no it’s not.” Dean broke eye contact then.

“Okay, well” Cas squeezed his hands, “I forgive you then. How’s that?”

Dean huffed out half a laugh. His next words caught in throat as he looked back at Cas. He was so close to him. Dean supposed he always was. Dean’s eyes caught on Cas’ mouth where he had worried at his bottom lip. It was red and sore and wasn’t healing. Before Dean knew what he was doing, he was tipping forward, eye slipping shut. When they met in the middle, he barely felt it. He touched his lips to Cas’ like he had to his hands, his heart pounding against the inside of his ribcage. Dean didn’t realise he hadn’t been breathing until Cas’s lips moved against his own and he gasped for air. He leant against Cas’s forehead breathing far too heavily for such a chaste moment. They sat there just breathing in each other’s air for one, two, three seconds. Then Dean surged forwards, pushing of his feet so he was kneeling up over Cas. He dropped the angel’s hands in favour of holding his head in his own, pressing desperate kiss after desperate kiss to Cas’s mouth. Cas leant backwards under him as they kissed, moulding to fit the curve of his body. His dropped hands had twisted their way into Dean’s flannel, pulling him closer.

As Dean’s lungs screamed for breath, he pulled slowly away. Cas’ head dropped to rest against his sternum and Dean allowed himself to bury his face in his hair. His hands had settled at the base of Cas’ neck and began tracing nonsensical patterns into the skin there.

“C’mon,” He leant back and pulled Cas with him. Leading him by hand past the impala and a few scattered paint cans. He stopped by one - one of the only ones not broken open - and leant down to pick it up. ‘Dusty Cyan’. Perfect. He tucked it under his arm, and flashed Cas a smile.

I'm alone with you You're alone with me What a mess you've made of everything

I'm alone with you You're alone with me And I'm hoping that you will see yourself Like I see you

The next day found them huddled close together leaning over Baby as Dean taught Castiel how to hammer dents out metal without causing more damage and replace a windshield.

“D’you want to know something?” Dean cracked open his beer. Cas hummed from where he was bent over working a dent out of the open bonnet. He was wearing one of Dean’s ratty old Bon Jovi shirts, damp with sweat and motor oil and chewing on his lip distractedly – and distractingly. “Sammy got me that angel to tease me about you.”

Cas looked up then, “About me?”

“Yeah.” The hunter coughed, wondering what had possessed him to open his mouth and start yet another chick flick. Maybe he should be worried about how much of a sap he was becoming. It was Cas’ fault, obviously. “Cuz I always complain when you’re gone.”

Cas turned around and leant back on Baby, his shoulder brushed Dean’s. “You may want to begin coming up with some alternate topics of conversation.”

Dean laughed, “You think so?”

“I have been reliably informed that I’m not going anywhere.” Cas looked at him. “Ever. Again.”

Dean shoved his shoulder, smiling wide when Cas shoved back pressing him back into the Impala’s frame and leaning into his space.

“It’s why I put it up there in the first place instead of shoving in the back of some cupboard.” He poked Cas in the ribs. “Because it reminded me of you.”

“Me.” Cas echoed.

“You,” Dean smirked, “Dumbass.”

Cas growled and silenced him with a kiss for the ages. Dean let himself be taken over by the angel, surrendering the kiss to him and just basking in the feeling of Cas pressed up against him. He didn’t need some glass statue, he already had his guardian angel exactly where he wanted him, and he had proved to be far from fragile.

I see you in the dark At the dawn of something new I see you

#dean winchester #castiel #destiel #hurt/comfort #cas is hurting #dean is there #i hope this wasn't too angsty and had enough comfort in there for you #fanfic #kat scribbles #literally in this case #userstarry #writing challenge #mentions of death #feelings of worthlessness #baby is also there haha #fuck #not literally in this case #first kiss #starrynightdeancas gift exchange

[joon-ipersgirl]

“inked heart” - jjk oneshot

genre: friends to lovers!au, fluff, a teensy dash of angst

pairing: tattoo artist!guk x tattoo artist!reader (f)

summary: jeon jungkook, a rising star in the tattoing world, is looking to take home best large black and white piece at the 25th annual milano tattoo convention. already one to watch from his previous wins as a young artist, pressures rise when his model for the competition cancels half an hour before the show. 

always there when he needs you, you offer to be his model but jungkook is reluctant, especially when the piece is in a more... intimate place. and the fact that he’s been in love with you for the better part of two years. jungkook isn’t too sure how he’s going to survive the next three hours, not when you ask him if he thinks you’re attractive. 

caught between a rock and a hard place, does he lie to you and himself when the prize is on the line? it’s go big or go home...

word count: 5.9k

warnings: some guk pining, cursing, mentions of heartbreaker jimin, the smallest dash of angst about not winning, tattoo artist yoongi

a/n: my first guk piece! thank you guys so much for the love on the preview, especially your comments. they honestly make my day. i hope this lives up to your expectations and you enjoy it just as much. this was a random idea i had and i love tattooed guk so here we are. i tried my best to make sure all the tattoo things were accurate so if they aren’t sorry in advance 😭 this was a lot of fun to write and i’m actually debating on writing some other things for this couple (especially for guk’s birthday), but i’m not sure yet. let me know if y’all are interested though and i’ll see what i can come up with. as always, thank you vi for supporting my shenanigans and reading this like four times lmao. feedback is always welcomed and highly appreciated. enjoy everyone! 

full masterlist // drabbles

Jungkook’s body buzzed with excitement as he squeezed past the bustling bodies at the 25th annual Milano Tattoo Convention. His fourth year at the world’s largest tattooing competition with a chance to take home the prize for “Best Large Black & White” piece against four hundred incredible artists had Jungkook amped up and ready to go. Some of his inspirations - legends in the game - were mere feet away from him as he browsed the almost endless stations filled with merchandise, displays of new tattoo designs, and occupied benches with models. There was almost nothing he enjoyed more than being around the sound of buzzing guns and filling sheets of half-filled paper with sketches his brain had no issues conjuring up but sometimes struggled to complete. Well, except food. And video games. And you. Not really the point though.

He’d been tattooing for almost six years now, from the moment he’d been able to convince Yoongi to let him be his apprentice. Jungkook had wasted no time in starting his own personal tattoo collection, quickly filling in a full sleeve on his right arm going across his right pectoral and another upper half sleeve on his left. Now, he was making his own name in the art world, commissioning pieces solely off his ability to execute various styles well with very little practice. Jungkook was a jack of all trades and very nearly a master of all. He was a risk-taker and it had paid off for him during his time at Milano, taking home “Best Small Black & White” his second year at the ripe age of twenty, and then “Best Medium Black & White” the following year. Yoongi could barely believe it when the judges called his name and announced him the winner but Jungkook knew his mentor’s chest was swollen with pride. This time, though, there were bigger fish to fry - “Best Large Black & White” in a style Jungkook had just begun feeling comfortable with: fine line tattoos.

He paused at the Killer Ink booth where Hori Kashi was working on a beautiful traditional koi fish upper half sleeve design as his phone buzzed. An Instagram notification.

_petuniablooms: hey jungkook! im so sorry this is last minute but i won’t be able to make the convention to be your model. I got a bad case of food poisoning from dinner last night. i hope this doesn’t cost you the comp. but when you’re back in the country, maybe i can schedule an appt? sorry again!

Jungkook blinked slowly. She couldn’t make it? This was not part of his plan. She was supposed to be here in the next half an hour so he would have enough time to complete his piece for judging in four hours. As one of the younger artists at the convention and with immense amounts of talent, people wondered how long Jungkook would be able to sustain his efforts, especially after taking home prizes in one of the major categories two years in a row. Most of them thought he would burn out after his second year or third year, but here he was. Competitive by nature, Jungkook wanted to prove them wrong - that he really did have what it took to be one of the best in the game. A legend in his own right. He shoved his phone back into his black cargo pants pocket and tugged on his curling brown locks. What was he going to do now?

“Guk! Hey, Guk!” He could barely make out your petite frame as you shoved and elbowed your way through the throngs of folk gathered around booths. You were set on getting to him though, your smaller form not holding you back from covering the distance, your brow set in determination whenever he did get glimpses of your face in the crowd.

That was something Jungkook admired about you: your no-nonsense-get-it-done attitude. Friends for almost three years now, he’d seen the way you’d taken charge of almost every opportunity that came your way. You didn’t take no as the final answer and if you couldn’t find a way to make it happen, you created your own. Either way, you got it done. As the first lead female tattoo artist at your shop, Sin City, you’d also made a name for yourself in the tattooing world as a specialist in black and white shading. Your signature though was the three-color-combination color style you developed for your color tattoos. That’s how the two of you had met - the year he’d won “Best Small Black & White”, you’d taken home “Best Medium Color” - and the two of you hadn’t looked back since.

“Gosh, there’s so many people here. It was so hard to find you. I knew I should have checked the Kashi booth first,” you said after finding a pocket of space next to him and hugging his torso.

“Y/N, it’s a convention. Of course there’s going to be a lot of people here,” he replied, wrapping his arms around you, subconsciously looking for comfort in your touch.

Though the two of you mostly had conflicting schedules due to the demand for your work, you did your best to make time for one another. Jungkook had grown accustomed to seeing you every few weeks for lunch or on Friday nights with beer and chicken for Marvel movie marathon weekends. He didn’t dwell on it too much - how ridiculously domestic a lot of your traditions were - not wanting to shake the table and send the precariously perched house of cards pyramid the two of you had created crashing to the ground, upsetting the balance of your friendship. No, Jungkook would leave those thoughts right where they were.

He more felt than saw you roll your eyes as you said, “Yes, Guk. Conventions have lots of people. This just seems like a health and safety hazard though.” Jungkook squeezed you as you pressed closer to him, slightly uncomfortable as more people gathered in the area.

“Alright, let’s go,” he replied, reminding himself to search for the finished koi design afterward as the two of you walked away. “How’d your piece go?”

“So fucking good!” you beamed and turned your face towards him. He couldn’t help but smile back. “Though I don’t know if it’ll win this year, the guy seemed to be really pleased and that’s all that matters. Plus, t-shirt sales have gone up. Like way up! Speaking of which, you should buy one. My t-shirt design on your body?” you did the chef’s kiss, “Impeccable!” you exclaimed and grinned.

Your smile was another thing Jungkook admired about you. The faintest dimples appeared when you did and there was almost never a moment when he couldn’t not smile with you. It was a smile that reached your twinkling eyes and illuminated your face with a glow. Like right now, as you’re striking poses and modeling your black and white cityscape background covered with your shop’s name in a candy red color, a tattoo gun positioned to finish the last line of the last letter on the white tee in the middle of the crowded aisle in some of the shortest shorts he’s ever seen you wear in public. When did you get those?

“You know what would look good on my body?” you asked as the pair of you carried on walking. Me, he thought, but knew where this conversation was really going. “One of your tattoo designs!”

Jungkook sighed. “Y/N, we’ve already talked about this -”

“I know, Guk, but you literally have no reason to not tattoo me,” you whined. “You’ve tattooed every single one of your other friends! Hell, even Yoongi has a tattoo by you.”

“Yoongi has what?” the older man asked as he bumped into you two as you passed the registration booth.

“A tattoo by Jungkook,” you pouted, arms crossed.

It wasn’t that Jungkook didn’t want to tattoo you. He just didn’t want to fuck up a design that would be permanently etched into your skin for the rest of your life. He wanted to create something that was beautiful for you, something that really conveyed the importance of your presence in his life, but every time he sat down to do so, nothing seemed good enough. You’d been seriously begging him for the better part of a year to do something - anything - but he’d refused saying that he didn’t have the time. Secretly, he just didn’t want to fail and let you down.

“Ah, that age-old debate. It’ll happen one day, kid,” Yoongi said as he patted your shoulder gently. “What time are you setting up, Jeon? Your model’s supposed to be here soon, right?” Yoongi asked.

“Fuck!” Jungkook shouted, tugging on his hair and startling a few people around him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! I don’t have one. She can’t make it. I have to find someone else,” he yelled as he took off, no destination really in mind.

“Wait! Guk -” you called after him but he didn’t stop.

Sometimes, being around you was dangerous as Jungkook could quite literally forget what it was he needed to be doing. There was just something about you that made him lose focus, just a little bit. He couldn’t have that right now. Jungkook needed to be on his A-game, scouting a model that would give him consent in - he checked his phone - twelve minutes.

The one time Jungkook needed someone to be interested in his work, there wasn’t a single soul around. Where had all the people who were begging him to schedule them in for a quick session disappeared to? None of the people passing by were interested in getting a random, floral design done by Jeon Jungkook today, unfortunately. It was as though the devil of the tattoo underworld had cursed him the one time he could have used some luck for the sole purpose of being entertained. Circling back to the D-Town Tattoos booth, Jungkook was running out of options. Shit.

“There you are!” you wheezed as you came to a halt and rested your hands on the table in front of you. “Fuck, I forgot how fast you are.”

“Y/N, I don’t have time. I have to find a model -”

“Why don’t you just use Y/N?” Yoongi asked as he calmly took a seat next to his bench, a tall young man following behind him.

“I couldn’t -” Jungkook spluttered, eyes wide.

“Like you said, Jeon, you don’t have time,” Yoongi reminded him, setting up his work station for his client.

Jungkook looked over at you, still slightly hunched over and trying to catch your breath. This was not how he’d wanted to do this. “Are you sure, Y/N? I don’t know if -”

“Fuck yeah, dude!” you said interrupting him. “100%. Let’s do this!”

Jungkook watched as you made yourself comfortable on his workbench, waiting for him to get started. The fact that you weren’t nervous only added to his apprehension, the fear of potentially disappointing you resurfacing and rising in his gut. It felt like he was taking a risk with stakes much higher than he was willing to bet on, but the trust you had in him had him saying, “Okay. Fill out the consent forms and I’ll pull up the design.”

“What are we working with?” you asked curiously, handing the clipboard back over to him, not really reading it and only signing your name in the designated spots.

“Thigh piece,” he murmured, concentrating on finding the correct sketch on his iPad.

“Sounds fun. I know it’s going to be amazing, Guk. Don’t worry,” you reassured him. He smiled warily as you gave his shoulder a tender squeeze.

Nodding more to himself than you, he showed you the design. @_petuninablooms, like her name suggested, loved flowers. So much so, she’d wanted a full piece dedicated to that specific flower as well as whatever other floral arrangements she thought Jungkook could make look pretty against her skin. She’d won his Instagram contest to be his model for free at the convention because of her sentimental design and background as a botanist, something that piqued Jungkook’s interest. Though he was proud of the design, it didn’t seem to fit you.

“I don’t know, Y/N. I don’t know if it’ll fit your style,” he said, gesturing to your upper half sleeve. The three faces of Frida Khalo, Nefertiti, and Tomoe Gozen were beautifully designed and organized by you as a symbol of feminine unity - embodying passion, leadership, and grace. A much edgier piece than what currently sat on the screen of his iPad designed for his winner, he wasn’t sure how you’d feel about the softer image.

“I told you, Guk. You could tattoo anything on me and I’d be happy. Maybe even more happy than if you’d let me tattoo you. I just want to have something of yours on me - support your craft, you know? Besides,” you said zooming in on the flowers, your gold rings shining in the light, “I like petunias.” Jungkook wasn’t sure if you were only saying this to make him feel better, but he was grateful for your encouragement anyway.

“Uh, I’m going to need you to take your shorts off,” he said hesitantly. “Yoongi, this isn’t against the rules, right? Like having another artist sit for you?” Jungkook asked, turning to give you some privacy though anyone walking past would be able to see you shimmy out of them as there was no curtain or door to shield you.

“Nope. Not that I’ve read,” Yoongi replied, concentrating on his design. Jungkook nodded, steeling himself to focus and get the job done. What he wasn’t expecting was to see you adjusting the band of some very high-waisted, very skimpy, black panties. He nearly choked.

“Does this need to be further up? If not, I can take them off for you. I don’t -”

“No!” Jungkook cried out as he tore his eyes away from the curve of your ass. “I can just move the stencil. It’ll be fine,” he continued after clearing his throat.

“Okay,” you said awkwardly. Jungkook apologized for his outburst as he wheeled himself over to sit in front of you on his little stool. He was making a much bigger deal of this entire situation that it needed to be. He’d seen you in a bikini before, but something about seeing you in your underwear sitting before him was different.

“Relax, Jeon. It’s only a thigh!” Yoongi teased, his head down but his shit-eating grin very much present as he worked on the shading on his client’s forearm. Though Yoongi would never say anything to you out of respect for Jungkook, Jungkook knew Yoongi enjoyed putting him through the wringer whenever you were around.

“Not just a thigh! It belongs to me. My thigh is prime real estate, Min Yoongi. There’s a lot of artists that have been wanting to get in on this,” you joked. Jungkook laughed as he prepped your skin for placing the stencil with rubbing alcohol, hating the fact that he couldn’t feel your skin through the latex gloves but also grateful for the sensory blocker. He knew you were right though - lots of artists did want to work on you and have you walk around with their work as free endorsement of their skill. Honestly, this was a prime opportunity and he should make the most of it.

“Would you be okay with me changing this larger petunia into a mandala? I know you like those,” Jungkook suggested.

“Guk, this is your piece. I told you, I’m good with whatever,” you said cheerfully.

“Keep talking like that I’ll tattoo my name on your ass,” he quipped as he adjusted the design before placing it.

“Make it your face and we just may have a deal,” you shot back and Yoongi gagged from his corner. Jungkook did not want to think about the potential implication of those words.

He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to survive the next three and a half hours with you making suggestive comments while standing in your barely-there underwear, but he was going to have to. Of course, as friends, you’d always had the occasional flirty banter but the “Best Large Black & White” prize was calling his name and God did he want to win. He double-checked the placement of the design as it stretched from just above your hip bone to finish in the middle of your thigh. His adjustments were so precise, it covered the expanse of your thigh damn near perfectly. Jungkook grinned.

“Ready?” he asked, holding up a mirror as you checked out the placement, twisting from side to side.

“Yeah, looks great. How do you want me?”

Jungkook paused as he set up his rolling tray filled with his ink caps and laid out his sterilized needles. There were more than a few ways he could answer that but he settled on, “However you’re most comfortable. You’re going to be here for a while.”

You laughed and climbed onto the bench, giving Jungkook a perfect view of your ass, before you settled against the leather on your left side. Jungkook adjusted the height of his seat so he could position on your thigh with your bent knee resting against the bench and angled towards him. Confirming you were indeed comfortable, Jungkook gently rubbed the A&D ointment across the first section of the design, taking slightly longer than necessary, and got to work. There was a little over three hours to get it done.

He worked diligently as he traced the fine lines of the flower petals, slipping into his professional mode. A small crowd had gathered around the booth, intrigued to see him work on you. Most of the folks there knew about your friendship from social media and mutual community-work settings, how the two of you had bonded over your shared love of tattoos, but seeing the two of you together like this was a real treat. He didn’t feel any pressure as the cameras fought to get a glimpse of him working though. Jungkook did well under pressure but there was a lot riding on this one piece. For him and for you. He wouldn’t disappoint you though. He couldn’t. Not when you looked so peaceful as he worked on the tattoo. Jungkook would win and make you proud.

“Guk, I have a question.”

“What’s up?”

“Would you fuck me?” Jungkook was thankful he’d removed the needle from your skin to wipe off the extra ointment as there was no doubt in his mind he would have fucked up had it been there.

“What?” he asked, slightly breathless.

“Okay, maybe that was a bit vulgar. I guess what I mean is do you think I’m attractive? Like -” you tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, “- a woman you’d spend the night with. Date long-term. That sort of thing,” you finished. Jungkook swallowed before he spoke.

“Uh, yeah. You’re an attractive person.” Jungkook replied, avoiding eye contact with you as he went back to tracing the lines and tried not to think of you under him, around him, on top of - “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a relationship - since anyone has even asked me on a date. Seokjin never called me back after we went for drinks that one time and Jimin - nevermind actually,” you sighed and Jungkook re-lived the memory of Park Jimin with you - the second man to break your heart in a matter of months. His face soured as he remembered how inconsolable you were the first few months after the breakup and how badly he’d wanted to take a baseball bat to Jimin’s very nice, very expensive car. “Maybe I’m unapproachable. Yoongi, am I unapproachable?” you called over to him.

“Yes,” he said dryly, not bothering to look at you. You scoffed in response.

“You’re never the best person to ask, you old man! People barely talk to you,” you murmured.

“Y/N, you’re great,” Jungkook said in response. “You’re more than great actually, but maybe now isn’t the time to get into a relationship?”

“Why not? I have a stable job, I’m cool -”

“Barely!” Yoongi called over. Jungkook watched you shoot Yoongi the finger before you began speaking again.

“- and I’m charming. It would be nice if someone could appreciate that too, someone that wasn’t only me.”

“Hey! I appreciate you!” Jungkook blurted out, slightly offended.

“Yeah, like a friend. Guk, you know you don’t -”

“Don’t say it. Don’t tell me I don’t count, Y/N.”

“But Jungkook -”

Jungkook paused and set his gun down. “No. No ‘but Guk’, Y/N. I appreciate you, more than you know or understand. I get that we’re friends and I know you value our friendship, but you don’t get to tell me I don’t count because you think you know how I feel about you. Please don’t let your perception of my words and actions let you label them “friendly” when they’re something else.” Jungkook picked his gun back up, avoiding your gaze again, slightly alarmed by his unplanned confession.

“What? What do you mean ‘something different’?” you asked, confused. “Was I supposed to read this any differently after you said -”

“You weren’t supposed to know. You weren’t supposed to find out - not like this at least,” he muttered. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Just don’t count me out okay, Y/N? Not this time. Can we talk about this later though? I just -”

Before he could finish, Jungkook’s alarm went off, signaling only an hour and a half left before he needed to be taking you for judgement. “Okay, Guk. I won’t count you out. Finish,” you said softly as you nodded to your tattoo and chewed your lip in thought.

With time against him, you and Jungkook no longer conversed, though the conversation rattled in his brain like loose change in a tin can. He would need much more than a penny for his thoughts if he wanted to get out of this situation. The hasty confession had Jungkook wondering if he’s said too much too soon. Had he finally sent the house of cards tumbling down? It’s not that he hadn’t wanted to say anything, but the fear of you not meaning what you’d said frightened him. Memories of the two of you curled up on his aging leather sofa flickered across his mind’s eye and he wondered if this fuck up was worse than the time he’d quickly denied having any romantic feelings for you the morning after a drunk confession and you’d reciprocated the feelings. It had taken a few months for things to return back to any type of normal, an uneasy tension having over you both whenever you’d met up. Every few seconds his eyes flitted to your face, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever you were thinking sprawled across your forehead in your big, looping handwriting but your eyes were closed and your face fairly serene as you let him work in silence.

And work he did, shoving the thoughts to the back of his mind, finishing the last lines of the final petunia and filling in the mandala with various degrees of shading. He admired the delicacy of his work against your smooth skin, deciding it did suit you, much more than he could have hoped. Jungkook was actually slightly disappointed he was close to finishing, already missing the intimacy of working on you, but also eager to get you on stage so people could see his work. He’d gotten lost in the act like he usually did, concentration never breaking as the rest of the Milano Convention continued in full effect around him. Why had he waited so long to do this? You were a dream to work on, never flinching even as he finished up the minute shading of your tattoo, the worst part for many people. A true tattoo veteran with a hell of a pain tolerance. Roughly ten minutes left in the session, Jungkook wrapped up the piece.

“All done,” he said softly, wiping away the excess ointment and admiring his work briefly.

He heard you gasp as you propped yourself up to get a better view of it. “Holy fuck, Jungkook! It’s perfect. I love it!” you whispered in amazement and Jungkook smiled, relieved to not have disappointed you.

“Let me get some pictures, yeah?” You nodded and Jungkook snapped a few shots, promising to send them to you after the convention ended.

“Looks good, Jeon. And you got it done in time. You learned well,” Yoongi chuckled as Jungkook weakly punched his shoulder. “Are you happy, Y/N?” Yoongi asked as he packed up his spare equipment while his client waited patiently to be escorted to judging.

“Happy?” you scoffed, checking the tattoo out again in the mirror. “How about fucking ecstatic? I’m absolutely in love. Seriously Guk, thank you,” you beamed and launched yourself at him for a hug. Jungkook made eye contact with Yoongi as he held you tight in his arms, the older man relaying a silent message to his younger apprentice through raised eyebrows and crossed arms.

“Alright, alright. You can stare at it more later. We have to get to the judges and make it through all these people so,” Jungkook trailed off, letting you go while simultaneously ushering you out of their designated little space. Agreeing, you grabbed your teeny shorts and shoved your feet back into your sneakers. Jungkook stayed close behind you in an effort to cover your very visible, very exposed ass from peering eyes as you moved through the crowd. As much as he hated to admit it, he was really protective of you.

The trek to the judging station wasn’t as official as the name made it sound. It was really just a small stage raised a few inches above the ground with a table and enough chairs to seat the three judges as artists and their models were scored based on design, complexity, and overall execution. This year’s judges were Jung Hoseok of J’s Tailored Tattoos, Kim Namjoon of Mono & Moon, and Kim Taehyung of Vintage Vante. The three of them were rightfully deemed the gods of the tattoo world and Jungkook looked up to them immensely, each of them having numerous titles on the world stage in countries like Brasil, the United Kingdom, and Australia. Nerves rolled in Jungkook’s belly as he waited in the crowd with you for the host to call his name. A win with these guys as the judges would really put some of those naysayers in their place and Jungkook shuffled in place behind you, antsy.

“What’s wrong, Guk?’ you whispered to him as another artist and model headed on stage.

“What if they don’t like it?” he murmured anxiously.

“Do you like it?” Jungkook nodded. “Then that’s all that really matters. You’re insanely talented and I know they’re some of your role models, but they’re fucked if they don’t see how incredible you are. You’ve got this, Guk,” you said in a hushed tone as Yoongi took the stage with his model from earlier. Jungkook smiled into the back of your head as you stood in front of him and gave his hand a squeeze. Jungkook could always count on you.

It was now his turn. Standing with one hand tucked into his pocket and the other firmly gripping your shorts, Jungkook watched as the judges made their notes on their scoring sheets. You turned graciously to give all three of them the best view of the tattoo. And while he knows that there are probably a few people who’d be overjoyed at the challenges he faced to get to this moment, Jungkook didn’t care. Not when your uplifting words still wrapped around him, affirming his skill and talents. He was proud of what he’d accomplished today and while winning was the ultimate goal, he was also at ease because he’d succeeded in fulfilling one of your wishes and you were happy. Jungkook could only smile as you showered him with praise and tried to convince him to tattoo you again as the judging continued.

The two of you stood with Yoongi, chatting as the judges tallied up the scores. He tried to stay still as he watched the host organize the names of the winning artists, losing interest in the conversation as the judges confirmed the final results. One by one, the host read the categories and its corresponding champion. “For Best Medium Color,” the host paused for dramatic effect, “Min Yoongi!” Jungkook cheered loudly with you as his mentor took the stage with his model showing off the antique pocket watch and a royal flush poker hand on top of a wispy background.

Jungkook’s heart hammered in his chest, the sensation almost worse than his first year at the convention as Best Large Black & White was read out. Though he wanted to look calm and collected on the outside, Jungkook was sure he looked anything but. The audience created their own drumroll as the anticipation built - “Jeon Jungkook!”

Your squeal kickstarted Jungkook’s brain as he processed his win. He’d really done it? A few people around him clapped him on the shoulders in congratulations as he was pushed towards the stage to collect his prize and take his place beside the host. “Congratulations, Jungkook! One of the few artists to take home all three wins in one category,” the host announced. If only they knew what it took to get there. Jungkook felt like he was on cloud nine as he shook hands with the judges and took his picture with you and them, prize in hand. He knew he was positively glowing with pride.

“Guk, you did it! I told you that you could!” you cheered as you bounced up and down in happiness and excitement as they moved onto Best Large Color. He smiled down at you and unable to help himself any longer, he scooped you up into his arms, burying his face in your neck.

“Thank you, Y/N!” He repeated the phrase earnestly as if saying it over and over again would finally let you understand just how grateful he was but all it really did was make you giggle as his breath tickled your skin. “Seriously, I really couldn’t have done this without you.”

“I know,” you joked and flipped your hair. You both laughed and you pulled him in for another hug as you said, “Of course, Guk. I’m always here for you. Always,” you punctuated with a squeeze and a smile.

“Yeah, yeah,” he agreed. “You are always here for me,” he said vaguely as he stared down at you in his arms.

“Guk?” you queried as he stared off into the distance.

“This isn’t happening because I won. I don’t want you to think that I only do things like this when I’m any sort of intoxicated, okay?” Jungkook clarified as his confidence grew.

“Things like what?”

“Like confess and kiss you,” he stated.

“Kiss me? You’ve never-”

“Yes, I know I’ve never kissed you. But I want to. Is that okay?” Jungkook asked seriously.

“Yes. More than okay,” you whispered.

It was all Jungkook needed to hear. He was finally kissing you. A soft kiss that grew the longer you stood pressed together in the middle of the convention floor. Jungkook had had his fair share of first kisses, but yours was the one he’d remember for the rest of his life. Maybe because it was you. Maybe that’s why it would always be his favorite. He’d always refrained from putting himself in any situation where he’d be even the slightest bit tempted but now, after having you, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to let you go. The overwhelming sensation that it was actually happening was quickly quelled by the insurmountable joy he felt as you kissed because it was actually happening.

Jungkook may have ascended into another plane as your fingers curled into the hair at the base of his neck and you pulled him further into you. Though he really didn’t want you to think he was only doing this because he’d won, the courage it gave him really did help. The feeling of winning nearly paled in comparison from the brief, sweet taste that was you. Even if he’d never won tonight, he would have considered himself a winner regardless from the kiss alone. Jungkook sighed into you as he savored the moment. Through the pounding of blood in his ears, he could vaguely make out the hoots and hollers of passerbyers as he held you close. Lost in you once again, Jungkook forced himself to remember your earlier conversation.

“Did you really mean it though?” he asked, one arm still wrapped tightly around your waist and the other holding onto his golden plaque.

“Mean what?”

“Not counting me out.”

“Did you mean what you said?” you countered. “Even if I wasn’t supposed to find out this way.”

“Yes, and all the times before then,” he answered truthfully. “So, does this mean you’ll have me?”

“Absolutely. Totally. With my entire hea-” He pressed repeated kisses against your mouth, your teeth clashing as you both smiled, neither of you willing to break apart until a familiar voice cleared its throat.

“I leave for five minutes and this is how I find you. Took you long enough though. Be that as it may, are you done?” Yoongi asked, expression wry and his own prize peeking out of his duffle bag. “I could use some food before we head back to the hotel and Y/N is going to need that tattoo bandaged.”

“Right, right,” Jungkook answered and let you go albeit reluctantly. “We’ll meet you at the car?” Yoongi nodded.

“Don’t take forever. I will leave you. Both of you,” Yoongi warned as he headed off to the exit without any further questions.

Back at the booth, Jungkook applied a generous amount of ointment to the piece before securing it with a bandage and double-checking the tape. Helping you step into your shorts, he smiled at the tattoo. Not only would it be a great reminder of a great win, it would also signify the milestone in your friendship - relationship? - was taking. “Told you that you should’ve tattooed me sooner,” you quipped as you gingerly pulled up your shorts.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” he asked, playing along as he quickly packed up his things.

“You would have won much sooner,” you murmured, standing before him.

“Really? What would have been my prize instead? Because that plaque is pretty great.” Jungkook sat his bag on the ground and rested his hands on your hips.

“Better than me?” you grinned and he pressed his lips to yours again.

“Looks like I’ll have to come up with another design then,” he hummed.

“Or you can let me and I can tattoo you,” you suggested with a devilish grin.

“And what do you propose?”

“My name. Right here,” you pointed to the empty space on the left side of his chest.

“Only if you let me tattoo my face on your ass,” he joked and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Deal,” you laughed.

Jungkook said nothing further, only smiled as he laced his fingers between yours and tugged you in the direction of the exit. “Great. I’ll have everything arranged,” he replied. Laughing with you in these moments meant so much to him and while he wasn’t sure what would happen between you after you left the convention and headed home, he would take pleasure in these moments for as long as you’d let him. As the two of you exited the building and hustled across the busy street to the parking garage so Yoongi wouldn’t have an excuse to leave you, Jungkook wondered if you’d known that your name had been inked over his heart a long, long time ago.

full masterlist // drabbles

ⓒ joon-ipersgirl, 2020

#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook #bts fanfction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook #jjk #bts fanfic #fic: inked heart

[wisherbysharlight]

WHAT IF... SANDERS SIDES BUT MAKE IT A TROPEY TEEN BEACH AU

Endgame!LAMP. Dukeceit, Remile

Just 2k stream of consciousness words from a plunny that grew legs TW for v slight underage drinking, one joking mention of violence, and a non-specific discussion of intrusive thoughts

-Janus has just moved there because his parents wanted to start a new "adventure" and he is a Stereotypical Teenager. Very "ugh MOM I wanna go back to my FRIENDS for my LAST SUMMER BEFORE COLLEGE"(most of his friends suck. He should not spend time with them. He does not know this)

His Parents buy him a surfboard and tell him to try it out as a way to get him to Shut Up

Hes a Skater Boy(cue music) so he picks it up super fast from like,,, youtube videos

 -He gets told to Get a Job if he wants to like, keep buying surf gear?

All the local kids work at like one restaurant/yacht club type place right on the beach

Janus gets hired as a host

 -Logan is a beach badge checker, Patton, Roman, and Remus are beachfront restaurant waiters but Roman just Really Wants To Surf, Emile and Virgil are Lifeguards, and Remy is a bartender

 -Janus is Very Good At Customer Service because Fake Smiles

Patton recognizes this Immediately

He shows him the Rage Closet which is a tiny room with an arm chair that locks from the inside where you can punch a pillow on your break when it gets to be Too Much

-Janus is Attached now and there is no getting rid of him

Patton Fully Endorses this and introduces him to the rest of the group

Janus Knows Immediately that LAMP is In Love but says nothing because he aint no snitch

-Remus surfs, but he also always wear a thong while doing it

Roman wears a full wetsuit and somehow still gets Board Rash. Remus is somehow immune and it infuriates him

 -Janus, not knowing that the twins live right on the beach cuz they are RichTM: Hey Ree I kinda wanna learn how to surf would you be able to teach me 

Remus, who religiously watches Janus surf every morning, but is absolutely willing to play this game: Yeah absolutely

Patton, later: “lets rinse off at the twins they’re right here” Janus: theyre.... What?!

 -Meanwhile, elsewhere, Virgil and Roman are double teaming Logan to drag him into the water with them cuz he’s pouting about losing a debate with their manager about how he didn’t really be mean to the dudebro who wanted to get his buddies onto the beach without paying, he was just enforcing the rules. And if the dude was so offended by Logan’s Very Accurate Dragging that he complained to management then, well, that’s his problem not Logan’s

 -Logan is never without a book. Ever. And its always a different book. Janus is starting to think he owns a library

One day he is just... reading a Physics textbook. Not taking notes or anything. Just reading. 

Roman is Very Very Alarmed by this because he is Gay and Math is Scary

"Roman I'm also gay that is not a determining factor"

"Yeah but you can't drive"

"...fair"

 -the first time janus has a shift with the twins, he cant stop staring, not just because hes like,,, super attracted to Remus but also because they are like Chaos Incarnate and yet somehow get the most tips??? He doesn't understand???

It's just cuz they are both Huge Flirts and Flatterers and the patrons dont care that they're not-so-subtly beating the shit out of each other right there on the dining floor because theyre just so charming

 -one of the bartenders gets aggressively snapped at by a customer and called "sweetheart" and before Janus can even begin to react Remy is there, sunglasses off, fire in his eyes, telling them to settle their bill and get the fuck out

Janus, used to City Restaurants- "Wont you get in trouble with the owner?!"

Remy, who knows Nothing Else But This- "What?? Not likely I only did it cuz Thomathy wasnt here to do it himself"

 -the restaurant is closed Monday and Tuesday so that is the Pseudo Weekend for the staff where everyone hangs out at the beach

Emile and Virgil take Tuesdays off but still work Monday’s cuz they feel better being the one watching over their friends

 -Roman, staring at Virgil on the lifeguard stand: ugh he’s so pretty I almost wish I was drowning just so he could give me cpr 

Janus: you wanna potentially get your ribs broken just for lip contact? 

Remy, staring at Emile on the lifeguard stand: listen, if that’s what it takes, I’ll take it

Remus, immediately going up to the lifeguard stand because he has 0 impulse control: hey my brother and cousin want you to break their ribs 

Virgil and Emile: excuse me?????

 -Patton will literally spend hours in the water. Logan physically drags him out to put sunscreen on him every two hours to the minute. Patton does not admit that he purposely "forgets" just so Logan will do so

Logan is Dark and has never used sunscreen ever but Patton is so pale and he just gets so concerned about him. Patton thinks its adorable

He has pages of research on proper spf determination.

Roman and Remus use spf 15 just on their faces and have never once burned in their lives

Logan wants to submit them for scientific study because that shouldnt be possible

Virgil calls Logan out on the fact that he also should be wearing sunscreen and Logan like... blue screens he cant believe in all his research he missed that

 -Patton is like... a ridiculously strong swimmer. Virgil still has a heart attack every time he goes for laps when there is the slightest hint of an undertow

Patton Knows This so he tries to stay in Virgil's sight line for the most part if there is an undertow. Or just dives over the waves again and again.

His nickname is Ariel. He thinks its just cuz of the swimming and the fact hes a red head. LAP all separately also tack on that its the swimming, the red hair, and the hnng pretty 10/10 would follow out to sea ala Prince Eric

 -first beach bonfire Janus goes to Remy is Fully In Emile's Lap like... half an hour in

he has had like maybe a sip of a beer

Remus says he still claims this is because he is a Clingy Drunk

no one will call him on it, least of all Emile

 -there is truth or dare. Roman may or may not skinny dip you have no proof

 -Logan gets infuriated that he cannot roast a marshmallow properly

Patton does it perfectly every single time but its ok cuz he shares and Logan eats it right from his fingers and Roman and Virgil are just in the background Trying and Failing not to be the Most Jealous

Patton thinks theyre upset they didn't get marshmallows and makes some for them too and there is lots of Significant Eye Contact involved

Janus is going to spontaneously combust if they don't get their shit together

 -Janus is out walking on the beach one night on a full moon cuz he cant sleep with everything so quiet around here when he sees a bright green patch out in the water and goes ...wait

he calls out to Remus and he comes into shore and is like "waves are perfect at night you should join me" so janus goes back and gets his board and they surf and chat for like the entire night

Janus finds out Remus couldn't sleep cuz intrusive thoughts were keeping him awake

Janus listens and doesn't judge, just lets Remus talk it out

They go back to shore and fall asleep on the sand next to each other like mid sentence still talking, now about whatever creative business idea Remus had, and get woken up by Logan's morning rounds like "come on guys you know you're not allowed to sleep out here" but they dont care theyre both just *blushing emoji*

-Logan Always Has A Notebook right? And a regular book he reads. And everyone assumes they are like Notions and Observations, but no, it’s actually blank paper and he uses it to sketch and then one day he leaves it behind and someone either Virgil or Patton finds it and flips through it and it’s all sketches of them and Roman and they’re like??? Actually really good? Anyway that’s how they find out Logan is actually minoring in art even though he’s majoring in something Very STEM 

And he never told his best friends because like almost all his pre college art is Them and he doesn’t want to be caught having Feelings and by the time it gets to college it’s been too long and he can’t tell them now 

Roman takes one of the sketches of him surfing and makes it his profile picture on All Social Media He Has and Logan is so flustered he nearly breaks his damn phone

Patton is so offended he didn’t get invited to Logan’s first showcase that he doesn’t talk to him for like two whole hours 

Virgil quietly asks if there is any art of all four of them, finds out there is, and makes a print and keeps it on his bedside table

 -They are all Pining Outwardly Now and its Worse

 -Remus : you have known them since pre-k please ask them out I beg of you 

Roman: You just dont get it 

Remus: I asked Janus out after 4 weeks what is your problem

 Emile: Virgil, I love you, you are my Partner in Anti-Drowning but you are so stupid 

Virgil: What???? All I said is that you and Remy are really cute and I'd love to be in a relationship like that 

Emile: I am not a violent person, Virgil, but I have the strong urge to smack you

 Patton, in the Rage Closet: They're all just so hOT and ReSPEctFUL 

Janus, waiting for his turn, trying to act like he cant hear him: I Am Looking Elsewhere

 Logan: I just don't understand why they were more upset that I didn't tell them than that I'd been making art of them for years?? Shouldn't that second part be worse??

Remy, who has been partial to Every Single One Of AMP Waxing Poetic About Logan: Yeah, no idea /s

 -the twins get into a surfing competition as a pair and everyone goes to see them and support them

Thomas airs the competition on every tv in the restaurant cuz he’s Proud of his Bois

They WIN cuz they are Creative and Talented and came up with all sorts of crazy tricks while they were fucking around in the water but it earns them Major Bonus Points for originality

 -Roman does the run off the podium and into Love’s arms trope with just like... whoever’s closest lets go Patton because he is a Waif and forced himself up front so he can see

The other two are Devastated because well shit but then Roman pushes through the crowd, still holding Patton’s hand, and gives them this smile and is like “remember in like second grade when we said we’d do everything together and made a pact on this beach”

Analogical: uhhhhhh yeah

Roman: holding you both to it. No take backs. This counts. Now kiss me, dammit, we WON and they DO MANY TIMES AND ITS REAL CUTE

 -Meanwhile dukeceit have Mysteriously Disappeared and No One wants to be the ones to go find them. They show back up, eventually. Janus has a branch in his hair and remus' hair is sticking straight up and when he opens his mouth roman glares at him and tells him in no uncertain terms that they do not want to know

 AnYWaY these are my children and I will gladly answer any questions about them. I left out Janus Backstory and Creativitwins Angst and Many Individual LAMP Scenes and Remile/Dukeceit getting together and Epilogue but can absolutely provide such things on request

#romantic lamp #dukeceit #remile #ts fic #sanders sides fic #remus mention #tropey beach au #listen im not responsible for what i do when on the beach with discord open #this is so self indulgent my god

[thelastspeecher]

Stanuary ‘21 - Week Two: Sacrifice

I haven’t actually posted any writes here on tumblr with my Fashion AU, and I don’t think I’ve even really talked about it much.  So, why not use that AU for Stanuary?

What you need to know for this AU: Stan and Ford go to art school together (Stan for drawing - he wants to work on Lil Stanley, Ford for fashion), it’s a modern AU (aka they are born much later, becoming adults post-2000), Ford starts his own fashion brand, and Stan...well, you’ll see what Stan decides to do.

Enjoy.

———————————————————————————————————–

              “Son of a-” Ford muttered.  Stan looked up from his sketches.  They were both working on their school projects, though for once, Ford was swearing under his breath more than Stan.

              He’s still pretty new to sewing, that’s all. While Ford excelled at designing clothing, he struggled with actually creating it.  As Stan watched, Ford accidentally stuck himself with a needle again.

              “Fucking-”  Ford trailed off, mumbling darkly.

              “You all right there, Sixer?” Stan asked. Ford looked up.  “You keep swearing.”

              “Did I offend you?” Ford asked snidely.  Stan snickered.

              “Not even close.”

              “Well…”  Ford set the fabric on his lap with a sigh.  “I didn’t realize that going into fashion would entail making the clothing I designed.  If I’d known-”

              “You woulda chose a different major?”

              “No.  But I would have asked for sewing lessons from Mom.”

              “You’re in luck.”  Stan got up from his desk.  He walked over to Ford’s bed and sat next to his twin.  “Mom got sick of patching up my clothes all the time when we were kids, so she showed me how.  Hand it over.”

              “You have your own work to do,” Ford protested. Stan took the fabric from Ford. “Your studies shouldn’t suffer just because I can’t sew!”

              “Eh, I’m pretty much done with Lil Stanley for the day,” Stan said, shrugging.  “Gimme that.”  He took Ford’s needle.  Ford grumbled wordlessly, but wisely didn’t continue to protest.  “Anyways, here’s how you sew without sticking yourself every second.”

-----

              Stan stared blankly at the worksheet before him.

              Why the hell do I have to take a physics class? I’m here to work on my comic book. I don’t need physics for that! After a few more moments of trying to make sense of his worksheet, Stan gave up.  With a sigh, he turned to face Ford, deciding to finally ask for some help. If I fail outta this class, I’ll have to take it again and miss my chance for Advanced Character Design next semester.

              “Hey, Ford?” Stan asked.  Ford, who was once again sitting on his bed sewing, grunted wordlessly.  “You know physics, right?”

              “Yes,” Ford mumbled.

              “I’m stuck on my homework, think you could-”

              “Normally, I’d be thrilled to help you,” Ford said, “but I’m kind of in the middle of something, Stanley.”  Ford huffed impatiently.  “The last few times I’ve finished my design prototypes, they look all right on the hanger, but terrible on an actual model.”

              “Why don’t you put them on, then?” Stan suggested. “The person who was in this room before us left that full-length mirror.  You can look at yourself in that.”

              “That might work, but it would be exceedingly slow,” Ford said.  “I’d have to make marks, then take off the clothes to make adjustments, then put them on again, then make more marks, then-”

              “I get it,” Stan said, stopping Ford’s rambling. “You can’t mess with it properly if you’re the one modeling it.”  He frowned. “What about getting a mannequin?”

              “I don’t have the money for that!”

              “Doesn’t the fashion department have some?”

              “Yes, but I can’t take it home with me!”

              “Okay, okay, calm down,” Stan said.  He leaned in.  “Want me to…liberate one for you?”  Ford glared at him.  “No stealing. Got it.”  Stan glanced at his physics worksheet again.

              Honestly, being poked by needles is more of a good time than working on that bullshit.  Stan looked back at Ford.

              “I’ll model your clothes.”

              “Really?” Ford asked, his eyes wide.  Stan shrugged.

              “Sure.  Why not?”

              “Well, you have your own schoolwork to do…”

              “I can do it after.”

              “But I don’t know how long it will take for me to finish adjustments-”

              “It’s not like I’d be able to get much done without your help, anyways,” Stan said dismissively.  Ford chewed on his lip.  “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Ford.”  Stan got up and took the clothes from his twin.  He removed his shirt and slipped on the top Ford had been working on.  “Let’s be real, I was made to be a model anyways.”  Ford smiled faintly.  “Hand me the pants.”

-----

              Stan threw open the door to the dorm room he shared with Ford.

              “Guess who just got Lil Stanley in the school paper?” he crowed.  Ford, once again sitting on his bed attempting to sew, looked up.

              “Hmm…” he said, feigning thoughtfulness.

              “And don’t say that chick friend of yours who hates my guts,” Stan said.  Ford snickered.  “I’ve seen her sketch.  She can’t draw for shit.”

              “Congratulations, Stanley,” Ford said.  Stan preened.  “With all of your hard work, it’s definitely well-deserved.”

              “Yeah, my adviser says that if I keep working on it, I might be able to make Lil Stanley big.”

              “If you did that, it wouldn’t be ‘lil’ any more though, would it?” Ford asked.  Stan laughed. “Seriously, I’m very happy for you. I know that you never intended to attend a ‘fancy art school’ with me.”

              “Yeah.”  Stan sat next to Ford.  “But I like it.”  He eyed Ford’s latest project.  “How’s your clothes stuff coming along?”  Ford sighed heavily.  “Not well, I’m guessing.  Want me to try it on so you can make adjustments?”

              “I greatly appreciate the offer, but, no, my problem is different.  The person who was going to model this for my final got sick.  Now, I have to scramble to find someone.”

              “Doesn’t the fashion department have a warehouse of students to model?” Stan asked.  Ford frowned at him in confusion.  “I think the warehouse has some weird name, like, Theater Department or something like that.”  Stan elbowed Ford playfully.  Ford rolled his eyes.  “Am I wrong?”

              “No, you’re right, many of our models are theater students.”

              “Makes sense.  They like wearing weird clothes and being the center of attention.”

              “Stan…”  Ford shook his head, trying to hide his chuckle.  “Unfortunately, it’s finals for the theater students as well.  None of them have the time to model for me.”

              “I’m not a theater student,” Stan said.  Ford looked at him.  “I can model for you.”

              “Are you sure?”

              “I do it all the time so you can make adjustments on your stuff.”  Stan shrugged.  “It’s not like I’m walking down the catwalk at New York Fashion Week or whatever.”

              “Don’t you have finals?”

              “None of ‘em are tests.  They’re all projects.”

              “Have you finished your projects?” Ford prodded.

              “Pretty much.”

              “Stanley…”

              “What did I tell you about looking a gift horse in the mouth, Sixer?”

              “…Don’t do it?”

              “Exactly!”  Stan flicked the fabric that Ford was still holding.  “Make this fit me, and I’ll walk the runway.”

-----

              There was a ping from Stan’s computer. He minimized Photoshop and pulled up his email.  His mouth went dry.  It was a message from a publisher.

              Don’t get your hopes up, Stan.  You’ve only been getting rejections, this is probably just another one.  Holding his breath, he opened the email.  His jaw dropped.

              “We’re pleased to inform you…”

              “Holy shit!” Stan shouted.  He punched the air triumphantly.  “I did it!  I fucking did it!  I-”  A door slammed somewhere in the apartment, closely followed by heavy stomps.

              That can’t be good.  With a sigh, Stan got up from his desk.  He exited his bedroom, walked down the hall, and entered the living room.  Ford had thrown himself onto the couch face-down.  Sometimes I hate being right.

              “What’s wrong?” Stan asked.  Ford lifted his head.

              “You recall that I have my first show tonight, right?” he said.  Stan nodded. “Angie’s still on board to model the women’s line, but my male model…”

              “Let me guess.  He fell through.”

              “He went to a competitor who could afford to pay him more.”

              “Ah.”  Stan walked over to the couch.  “Scooch.” Ford obediently sat up and moved. Stan sat next to him.  “Remember what I did for you while we were still in school?  Before you managed to start your own fashion brand?”  Ford frowned at him.  “C’mon, Sixer, did you really forget?”

              “Are you…referring to how you modeled my clothing for my classes?”

              “Yep.”

              “You’re offering to model for me in an actual show?!” Ford asked, aghast.  Stan crossed his arms.

              “You don’t think I’ve got what it takes?”

              “No, not- I just- you don’t actually have any training on modeling!”

              “I’ll get Angie to show me.”

              “She despises you.”

              “Yeah, but you’re like, her best friend.  She’ll show me how to model if it’s for you,” Stan pointed out.  Ford put his head in his hands.  “You can’t let this chance pass you by, Ford!  This is your first show, it needs to go off without a hitch!”

              “Yes, but-”

              “No buts.  I’ll call up Angie, you work on altering those clothes of yours,” Stan said firmly.  Ford sighed. He looked at Stan.

              “She won’t pick up if you call.”

              “I’ll call from your phone,” Stan said, already grabbing Ford’s phone from the nearby end table.

              “Don’t spill anything on it or drop it this time, okay?”

              “You got it.”  Stan got up.  Before he had left the living room, Ford spoke.

              “Stanley?”

              “Yeah?”

              “…Thank you,” Ford said softly.  “I think you’re right.  This- this really is the only way for my show to not end in disaster.”

              “Of course I’m right!” Stan said dismissively. He threw a grin over his shoulder. “And it’s not a problem.  Not like I’ve got anything better to do.”  Stan headed for his bedroom.  Just as he pulled up Angie’s number to call her, his computer chimed again.  He sat down at his desk and checked his email.

              “Mr. Pines, please respond promptly so that we can set up a meeting for tonight to discuss publishing your comic. Unfortunately, if you are unable to speak tonight, we will have to pass on you as a comic creator with our company.” Stan’s heart sunk.

              “Really?” he whispered, staring at the email.  “That’s bullshit.”  Ford’s phone in his hand buzzed.  He glanced at it.  Ford had received a text from Angie, asking if he had figured out the male model problem. Stan looked at the email again. He swallowed.  

              If this is how they do business, it’s probably a scam anyways. Stan tried to push away the fact that he had sent Lil Stanley to that company because one of his professors recommended them.  Yeah.  Just a scam. Gotta be.  Ford’s phone buzzed again, this time with a call from Angie, rather than a text.  Stan picked up.

              “Ford figured out the model situation,” he said into the phone.  “I’ll be stepping in.  So, what kinda tips do you got for me?”

-----

              Stan tromped into his bedroom, still wearing the makeup from the show.  He threw himself onto his bed with a loud groan.

              Hours later, Stan was woken from his unplanned nap by Ford poking his head into the room.

              “Stanley?” Ford asked.  Stan sat up.

              “You finally got home, huh?”

              “Yes.  Sorry, I had to-”

              “Schmooze, I know,” Stan said, waving a hand.  He yawned and stretched.  “No worries, Sixer.  I get it.”

              “This time, I didn’t have to approach anyone!” Ford said excitedly.  “People wanted to talk to me!”

              “Hey, you’re making a name for yourself!  It’s about time people picked up on your genius. How many shows has it been now?”

              “Too many,” Ford said with a chuckle.  Stan grinned.

              “That’s great, Ford.  Really.  But, uh, I did all the work at the show, so I’m pretty beat…”

              “You want to go to bed.  I’ll leave.  We can talk in the morning,” Ford said, bobbing his head.  He paused.  “Don’t forget to wipe off your makeup before going to sleep.  It’s not good for your skin if you leave it on.”

              “I know, I know.  This wasn’t my first rodeo.”

              “Yes.  Correct. Well…good night.”

              “Good night,” Stan said.  Ford smiled again, then left, closing Stan’s door quietly behind him.  Stan got up, stretching again.  His computer dinged.  “What now?” Stan trudged over to his computer and sat down.  He pulled up his email.  His eyes widened.

              “We greatly enjoyed the materials that you sent us and would like to publish Lil Stanley as a weekly strip in our paper. Please respond if you are still interested in working with us.”  Stan grinned.

              Only weekly?  Perfect.  That sounds like the kinda commitment that I can still do modeling with.

                He began to draft a response.  

              After all, who knows what would happen to Ford if I wasn’t there for him?

#Stanuary #Fashion AU #Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks

[corrupt-fvcker]

Masterpiece (Obi-Wan Kenobi x gn!Reader)

Masterpiece ( Obi-Wan Kenobi x gn!Reader )

Warning: nothin’ but fluff and shirtless obi-wan, i wrote this as gender neutral but PLEASE message me if there’s any concerns (aka i fucked up and used pronouns)

Word Count: 1.6K

Author’s Note: just a quick piece about reader getting caught drawing obi-wan. had a lot of fun writing this, hope y’all enjoy. one hundred percent inspired by a daydream i had when procrastinating homework. my requests are open!!

Obi-Wan looked ethereal. It was storming on Coruscant, raindrops incessantly pattering against the glass of the viewport as distant shuttles raced through the ebony night sky. Your apartment was silent other than the soft crackling of the fire Obi-Wan had constructed, your living room tainted a warm orange from the reflection of the dancing flames.

Your shirtless boyfriend hadn't spoken a word for over an hour, quietly sitting cross-legged on the glossy floor facing the fireplace. His freckled back was straight, strong forearms resting on his thighs with his calloused palms open to the ceiling. Your eyes followed the curve of his spine, admiring each and every mole and battle scar that painted his skin. His shoulders were broad from years of fierce training, the pale skin dusted with a flurry of tan freckles. You diverted your gaze to the back of his head, his auburn hair in need of trimming and still slightly damp from his shower.

It was his second night back from a particularly long mission, and it must've been tedious because he was keen to dismiss any conversation regarding the three-week-long battle, no matter how many times you insisted that you'd rather talk about it then have him bottle it up. But even though he was with you now, back home safe, you knew that your Obi-Wan wasn't exactly here. His body was roughly three paces away from the couch you were perched in, but his mind was much further.

Meditation had been a regular practice for Obi-Wan ever since he was a padawan, and you had to entertain yourself when he followed through his routine of meditating at sunrise and sunset. The thought of you being awake at sunrise was comical, which luckily meant that Obi-Wan was back in your shared bed with you by the time you stirred awake. But every night, you were forced to leave your lover alone for an hour or so -- which should've been easy, except you missed the ever-living hell out of him.

Though over time you grew used to the hour of alone time Obi-Wan's routine meditations offered, you learned to busy yourself. But you weren't going to give up so easily, you were going to spend time with him even the general was half-unconscious and unintentionally ignoring your fabulous company. So every night when his cerulean eyes fluttered shut and his chest rose and fell at a suspiciously slow pace, you drew him.

There was something so incredibly peaceful about Obi-Wan meditating, a silent beauty that begged to be captured on paper. Obi-Wan never looked so relaxed, all the worry and tension in his muscles melting from his body like hot wax.

Tonight, Obi-Wan had been silent for much longer than usual, nearly two hours as you focused on the finishing details of your sketch. And you were actually proud of your work, which you always found difficult when it came to any of your art. You had finally managed to capture every flicker of beauty Obi-Wan possessed, and even if it was just a drawing, it was undeniably him.

You smirked, gazing down at your sketch with only a twinge of scrutiny lacing your mind. His hair wasn't quite right, you'd struggled to add texture to it without making the back of his head look like a bird's nest. And his back was actually a bit more muscular than the slightly leaner version carefully etched onto the paper. Nevertheless, you were pleased with tonight's drawing and you blew away the eraser shavings with a small puff of air from your pursed lips.

Now all you had to do was outline the pencil sketch with a black ink pen, which was always a frightening task but you could never claim your drawings to be officially finished without the black outline.

You quietly stood from the plush cushions of the couch, setting your sketchpad down on the sofa before you ventured into the office to fetch a pen.

When you returned to the living room, your heart stuttered.

"Don't look at that!"

Obi-Wan had moved from his spot on the floor, leaning into the couch as he examined your art with precision, his pupils carefully following every faint wispy line of your pencil's graphite. Your stomach was rolling, your face suddenly feeling hot as Obi-Wan reluctantly tore his gaze from the drawing to look at you.

"Did you make this?"

No reason in denying it, the skin of your hands stained from your pencil and your signature was undeniable scribbled in the right bottom corner of the page as well as the front cover.

"Uh, yeah," you answered timidly, unmistakably embarrassed. It was one thing for someone else's eyes to even look at your artwork, but it was entirely something else for Obi-Wan to see not just your drawing but a drawing of him. Obi-Wan -- the man that has spent his entire life living in his body, who knows it better than anyone, looking at an imperfect reflection that you drew.

You swallowed thickly, beginning to panic when Obi-Wan continues to silently examine the sketch. "I know it's not perfect, I'm not the best artist. I don't think I really did you justice." You try to say this with a smile and glimmer of humor in your voice, but you knew that you plainly sounded nervous.

"It's... amazing," he spoke softly, eyes flitting between you and the paper. You hadn't moved from the doorway, feet stuck in place like your body had been frozen in carbonite. Obi-Wan's rosy lips curl into a soft grin. "You're amazing."

Relief floods your system, like a dousing of refreshing water. You were just glad it didn't weird him out that you stared at him for two hours while he was meditating (though you had a hunch that he was guilty of watching you in the morning while you were still asleep).

"Really?" You questioned, eyebrows furrowing. "I think it's off."

Obi-Wan shook his head in disagreement, smiling down at the paper. "No, I think it's perfect. A masterpiece."

You couldn't help but laugh, watching Obi-Wan stare at the drawing with an expression of pure adoration. "You just like it because it's a picture of you."

Obi-Wan huffed out an amused chuckle, the wrinkles that etched the corners of his eyes creasing as he turned to look at you. "Maybe," he teased, "but I know you're far more talented than you give yourself credit for."

You crossed your arms over your chest, silently dismissing his compliment as you ventured over to sit beside him. He opened his arms, allowing you to lean against his side and his strong arms surrounded you as he continued to gaze down at the piece of art. He was warm, invitingly so, and you thanked the Maker that Obi-Wan hadn't tugged on a shirt after his shower.

"Can I keep this?" Obi-Wan asked, the vibrations from his voice thrumming throughout his entire body.

Your head was nestled into the crook of his neck and you pressed a chaste kiss to the warm skin. "Of course."

Obi-Wan smiled, setting the page down carefully on the thick armrest of the couch before firmly securing his arms around your waist. He pivoted on the cushions, swinging a leg behind you before tightening his grip on your waist and dragging you up his bare torso, his skin providing more warmth than the fire ever had to offer. He relaxed into the throw pillows that lined the armrest, leaving both of your bodies at a comfortable angle. His breaths were soft and slow, ghosting over the top of your head.

"I missed you, darling," he promised, his voice low and laced with undeniable exhaustion.

A soft smile flickered over your features, hugging his arms that were loosely wrapped around your body. "I miss you too."

Obi-Wan pressed a delicate kiss to the crown of your head. "And you're so beautiful."

Now you were grinning. 

What a complete sap.

"You're just saying that because I drew you."

Amusement shadowed over Obi-Wan's face but he shook his head. "No, I'm saying it because I love you."

You rolled your eyes playful. "Whatever you say, Obi-Wan. Just stop snooping in my sketchbook."

A moment of silence drifted between the two of you, and for a second you assumed that Obi-Wan had fallen asleep.

"Is there more?"

Your mind is cautiously blank, raising an eyebrow even though he can't see it from behind you. "More what?" You replied hesitantly.

"More drawings," he answered simply.

More drawings of him, you figure he means.

"Uh... no?"

Apparently not nearly as convincing as you needed to be. 

Long fingers dug into your sides and you unwillingly shriek, jolting off of Obi-Wan and tumbling to the floor with a hollow thump.

"Hey!" You frowned, lifting your head up to face the bastard except he's already running off with your sketchbook tightly grasped in his hands.

Oh shit.

"Give it back," you hollered, racing after him but he'd already locked himself in the refresher. You pray that his ego doesn't enlarge too badly once he sees the nude images you drew from memory.

Yeah, you were screwed.

#obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #ewan mcgregor #star wars #fanfic #fanfiction #corrupt-fvcker #my writing #reader insert #self insert

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter fifteen: nightshade, hemlock, mistletoe, and oleanders

"you raise up your head and you ask, 'is this where it is?' and somebody points to you and says, 'it's his', and you say, 'what's mine?' and somebody else says, 'well, what is?' and you say, 'oh my god, am I here all alone?' but something is happening and you don't know what it is, do you, mr. jones?" -"ballad of a thin man", bob dylan

At some point, during Sam's absence, Scott had spoke with Charlie over the phone over the course of a few days. Apparently, the marriage was on its last legs while neither of them paid any attention whatsoever. It all happened in one fell swoop and without a shred of remorse to boot: he was asked to leave and move somewhere else in Queens. Scott ran his finger over the rim of his water glass and propped up the side of his head in the palm of his hand. Every so often, he took a glimpse up towards the front door of the restaurant: near there was a nook in the wall in which the maitre d' suggested they keep their instruments safe at.

“How you feeling in the meantime?” Belinda kindly asked him.

“Like I'm ready to just—faint,” he confessed. “I thought Marge was it for me. Like there was no one else for me in the world.” He sighed through his nose and Belinda reached over for a pat on his shoulder. He showed her a friendly little smile, albeit a sad one.

Sam and Joey sat right across from the two of them there at the table. She glanced over at him and he raised his eyebrows at her.

“I'm sorry I hit you,” she told him, to which he shook his head.

“It's okay—if anything, I deserved both of those,” he assured her. “I've had far worse injuries, too, playing hockey and whatnot. I'd get hit with pucks and smacked with sticks—you don't walk away from a hockey rink to be a full time musician and not have problems with your teeth.” He showed her another lopsided little smile and she returned the favor. “So you're down—where?”

“Santa Catalina Island. Twenty two miles off the coast. But then again, I still have a place in New York City. You know, the apartment in Hell's Kitchen.”

“It's an island, though,” Joey pointed out. “An island, Sam! You're currently based off of an island.” He then bowed his head and cocked his mouth to the side. “Not to brag or anything,” he started again, that time in a false pompous accent, “but due to the amount of wealth I've gotten, I can buy an island at no rhyme or reason at 'tall!”

She burst out laughing at that, and she had forgotten that Scott and Belinda were still right there across from them. She turned to them right as he fetched up a sigh and looked away from them, and thus she stopped right in her tracks. Sam returned to Joey as a result: he ran his fingers through his inky black curls and he tilted his head back a bit so as to show off a bit of his throat and his Adam's apple. Not as prominent or sharp as Alex's, but still one for her to look at for a little more than a few seconds.

He then gave his hair a little toss and he turned his head to the side, and he showed her his side profile. She had left her journal back on Catalina, but at least she knew she was headed back there soon enough.

“You know what I feel like doin'?” he asked her.

“What's that?”

He glanced over at the far side of the restaurant, past the front room and to the doors next to that big front bay window.

“You have to use the bathroom?” she asked him, and he returned to her with a smirk on his face. “Oh, no, Joey.”

“What? Why not?”

“I'm not going into the men's room with you.”

“I never said we were goin' into the men's room,” he pointed out, “but I do wanna—” He gestured to her body and he showed her that smirk once again.

“Well, we can't really do it in this place, though.”

“We can go outside,” he suggested.

“It'd be cold, though.”

“Nonsense. If it's cold, it gets the girls nice and pointy and it gets the channel below the equator nice and damp, too.”

“Here's a challenge for you,” she started with a raise of her finger.

“Okay. I'm up for a challenge. I'm an athlete, thus I'm always up for a challenge.”

“You go over to that woman whom you've just met and break it off with her 'cause I'm bored.”

He raised his eyebrows at her.

“Joey, if you really feel things with me, I want you to prove it.”

He never moved or said anything.

“I want you to prove it and that I'm not just another fuck toy to you,” she continued.

Without any moment's hesitation, he clasped his hands on either side of her face and kissed her right on the lips. Those soft dark lips as smooth as molten chocolate. Right in front of everyone. Right in front of Scott and Belinda.

“Jesus, Joe,” he remarked with a chuckle.

“Yeah, Sam!” she declared to which she clapped her hands. Sam brought her hands down to his slender knees as they lingered close to her own. She was so close to the space between his thighs, so close to his belt, such that she could let her fingers find their way there.

But she kept her fingers upon those delicate knobby knees, right upon that snug rich black denim. Joey let his tongue slither right into her mouth a little bit: such a strange feeling to feel him inside of her mouth once again. His grip on either side of her face was soft and he slid his body closer to her. Even only a few inches between them and she could feel his warmth.

For a fleeting moment, she thought about when Alex leaned his body against her own back at the house on Catalina as he climbed out of that stool. But this was a different warmth, a different feeling. The softness and slim gentleness of Joey.

“French it up, why don't ya, Joseph?” Scott cracked. Sam squeezed Joey's knees as she slipped her tongue into his mouth a little bit for a taste.

Belinda whispered something to Scott, and he chuckled at that.

Sam then let go of his mouth and she gazed right into his big brown eyes as if she stared into her own. She then ran her fingers through his black curls and he closed his eyes. His curls, while soft and clean, felt a lot more coarse than usual. Coarse and fuzzy with the dryness that surrounded them there in California, the dryness despite the marine layer overhead and the rainfall from the night before.

She could smell him again on her clothes. She knew that she would never forget the taste of him on her lips and her tongue. She caressed the side of his face and she kept her eyes locked onto those soft brown irises as they swallowed her whole. As dark and full as the bottom of the ocean. As venomous as the very deadly nightshade he crawled out from onto the cold earth around them.

He parted those dark lips as he was about to say something, but no sound came out.

“Hey, love birds,” Scott called out to them, and they both broke out of it, and they turned their attention over to the waiter who brought the four of them their drinks to kick things off. Sam picked up her glass of lemonade and took a quick large sip of it; Joey blew on the surface of his coffee before he took a drink.

“You're not even gonna add sugar to it?” Belinda asked with an unsure chuckle. Sam turned her attention to Scott as he held his mug of Irish coffee to his mouth.

“Doesn't need sugar,” he assured her with a shake of his head. “It's already got the whole package.” He took a sip with his eyes closed.

“I've had Irish coffee before,” Sam recalled. “How is it?”

“Damn rich,” Scott replied, and he coughed. “Whoa. That'll put some hair on the chest.”

“Right back in where you shaved the word 'not' in?” Joey teased him, and Belinda laughed at that.

“Yes, Joey!” Scott laughed along with her.

“Wow!” Chuck's voice carried in right there, and the four of them turned their attention to the left side of the room. He stepped into the room at that moment and he showed off a big sheet of thick paper to them. It was a drawing of him with his arms curled out before him and his head bowed a bit. All along his arms were jagged points, all done in big bold but soft colors.

“Holy shit,” Scott declared.

“Beautiful, Chuck—” Belinda said, and her voice trailed off at the sight of it.

“It's all crystals,” he said, “at least that's according to Marla.”

“Marla made you that?” Sam asked him.

“Yeah, I was just gonna say, that looks like her style,” Belinda added.

Sam turned her attention to Joey.

“I left my journal on Catalina,” she admitted to him with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Damn. I really wanted to see what kind of art you've been up to lately.”

“It's been—I want to say autobiographical. On the next boat ride over, I'll make a note to show you.”

“Next boat ride over to visit yo' mama,” Joey cracked as he took a sip of his black coffee.

“Visit Joe Mama?” she joked.

“Visit Joe Mama, exactly!” He drank down a bit more of his coffee before Scott passed that drawing of Chuck over to them for a better look. Marla had sketched him out with some bright pink colored pencil and then she outlined him with thick lines of black ink, while the crystals where shaded in with those fine points. Down at the bottom of the page, she had signed her name “Marla Taylor” in large curly penmanship.

“Who needs to buy someone something when you can make 'em?” Sam proclaimed.

“Right, right,” Joey said as he took yet another drink of coffee. He still hadn't let things go with Testament, but she dared not let that interfere with her appreciation of her best friend's artistry. Those clean lines and Sam wanted to make some more pieces of art, all for Testament themselves. But she knew that someone on their end would recognize it, especially if she did something as obvious as sign her initials at the very bottom. Something more, something different.

An eager Chuck returned to them to fetch that piece of drawing and Joey then tapped on Sam's shoulder.

“Come with me,” he whispered into her ear, even though she was hungry and she wanted to stay there to see what Scott had in mind for brunch. But Joey insisted, and thus she followed him over to the bathrooms. They passed under a sprig of mistletoe pinned up to the wall over the entrance to the front of the restaurant; it was there she stopped right in her tracks when she realized where he was taking her.

“Joey, we're not doing it in the bathroom,” she scoffed.

“We won't,” he assured her; instead, he took her hand and he led her to that narrow hallway which led to the bathrooms. He kept on walking past the men's room and to the narrow little nook right around the corner from there. He pressed his back to the wall and he unzipped his little black leather jacket, and he showed off his chest to her.

“Oh, I see,” she breathed.

“Yeah—c'mon, Sam I am,” he begged her, to which he slid down the wall a bit so he was eye to eye with her.

“Where do you—um, want me to start?” she asked him.

“I'll start things off, actually,” he told her and he lunged for the button on her jeans. Sam held still with her legs spread out as he undid it for her. Butterflies danced about in her stomach as he ran his tongue along the edge of his teeth. He had such a fierce twinkle in his eyes: they shone brighter than the fire opals on her bracelet.

He brought his dark lips to the little bit of skin right under her belly button, to which she gasped at the feeling.

“Oh—!”

“Yeah,” he growled as he gave her another kiss there. She realized that he was going all the way down from her waist to what lay below. She had given it to him while in England and so it made sense that he returned the favor to her. His lips were warm and silken, and far more than the feeling of molten chocolate.

“Joey?” a woman's voice caught them both off guard.

He stopped. Sam froze in her tracks. He lifted his head and he fixed her jeans, but he never buttoned them back up again.

“What're you doing?” Sam demanded.

“What're you doing?” the woman laughed, and he clambered to his feet. He ran his fingers through his black curls and stood right before Sam so she wouldn't have to see her. The woman chuckled at him.

Sam peeked out from behind him to the woman across from them. She was about Joey's height, but she had a full head of frizzy but neat golden blonde hair down past her shoulders. She did in fact look older than Sam herself, but not too much older: her milky white skin had not a single blemish or crease on it, but her deep eyes aged her more than a piece of gray hair ever would for her. She was slender but with that classic hourglass figure, much like a model: it also didn't help matters that she wore big black stiletto heels on her feet to go with her fitted dark denim jeans.

“What're you doing?” she asked him with another chuckle.

“She—” Joey gestured back to Sam. “—had a spot on her jeans and I was just—checking it.”

She froze and she looked back at Sam, whose mouth had gone completely dry and whose mind had gone completely blank. Nothing to say and nowhere to begin. The woman then chuckled again, and then she shook her head.

“You're funny!” she told him, and he sank down a bit so she could Sam in full for herself.

“Krista, this is Sam—better known as Sam I am.”

“Sam I am?” Krista echoed him.

“Also known as Sammich, Samantha, and—my personal favorite—Sam hill.”

“Sam—this is—this is Krista,” he sputtered. “My new friend.”

“Friend?” she demanded from him. She gaped at him complete with a raise of her eyebrows.

“Y-Yes,” Joey stammered; even with his sun kissed skin, the blush in his face was all too obvious. Krista flashed her an unsure smile and she shrugged in response. He cleared his throat once, twice, four times and he bowed away from them so they wouldn't have to see his face; Sam lingered closer to him.

“H-H-How'd you know I was back here?” he stammered some more to her.

“Scott told me he saw you run back here,” Krista explained, and Sam frowned at the sight of the blush on his face and his heavy breathing.

“Are you okay?” she asked him, concerned, and he coughed a bit.

“Yeah—I just—got a—a—” He patted his chest and straightened himself upright. “—a—a li'l—um—”

“Joey,” Krista said.

“Joey,” Sam echoed her.

“Huh?”

“You don't—look good,” Krista told him with a shake of her head.

“Yeah, you look like you're about ready to pass out,” Sam added.

“I'm fine, I promise,” he assured them, but then his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he fell onto his back. Krista and Sam glanced at one another in complete amazement, and they both stood over him as he lay there on the linoleum with his arms out on either side of him.

“What should we do?” Sam asked her in a small voice, to which Krista nibbled on her bottom lip.

“Good question.” She stopped and then she looked over at Sam with a tested look on her face. “Was he—actually checking your jeans?”

“Do you want the truth?” Sam asked her.

“Always.” She smelled faintly of peppermint, an aroma that Sam hadn't smelled in what felt like forever; Sam herself shook her head and Krista fetched up a sigh and rolled her eyes.

“Don't worry, I'll take care of this,” she told her in a low voice and with a wave of her hand

“Okay,” Sam replied with a nod of her head, and she stepped away from there. Her face felt so hot right then: it felt rather obvious in that hallway that Joey had kindled up a new flame there with another woman, and yet she still wanted him. She still wanted him even when she realized that her jeans were about to fall right off her hips.

She caught herself before anyone else caught her with her pants down.

Sam stopped right there, right underneath the sprig of mistletoe and she adjusted the zipper on her jeans. Krista's laughter floated out from that hallway and Sam sighed through her nose. Unless he really made it obvious to her, then she wouldn't have gone through with that with him. Or maybe he wanted to play the field, but there were too many questions she had already at that moment.

She straightened her shirt out and gave her dark hair a little toss back with a flick of her head. She could only hope that he was playing the field. That was the only hope she had right then.

“Hey, Sam!” Scott called out right then.

“Brunch is here!” Belinda added.

She turned to those tables right behind her and she joined them both for some French toast, sausage links, and biscuits and gravy.

“Where's Mr. Nightshade?” Belinda asked her.

“He's—He's—He's—” Sam could hardly speak herself. She sipped on her lemonade a bit so as to clear her head. “He's having a moment,” she spoke right then.

Scott chuckled at that. Even from a momentary glimpse, Sam could tell that that mug of Irish coffee had already left its mark on him.

But she shrugged and she dug into her biscuits and gravy, the former of which were light and fluffy and fresh out of the oven; the latter of which was pale but peppery and even soft in texture. She took a glance to the left and the booth that Testament had packed into for themselves.

Chuck and Eric were both still very much in awe of that drawing that Marla had made; if only there was a way in which Sam could find her way back to Catalina just to fetch her journal, but alas she could not, not with brunch at the helm. Meanwhile, Alex leaned his back to the wall there in the booth and he kept his cup of tea close to his chest. He took a glimpse over at her with those deep eyes, as they looked as deep as ever at that moment.

If Joey could play around with another woman, why not play around with other men? If he really wanted her that bad, then she would have to act.

Scott cracked a joke to Belinda and she almost choked on her bite of sausage from laughing so hard. But Sam had her attention fixated upon the young buck across the floor from her. The shirt that her mother had bought for her fit him rather snugly, all around his waist and his chest, such that he had undone the top two buttons and showed off a bit of his chest. He said something to Greg who then nodded at him: he leaned past him and flashed Sam a wink. She returned the favor with a pretty little wave.

Alex picked up his tea and sauntered across the floor towards her. For a second, she swore that he had a bit of a sway to his hips as if he knew what was going on.

He took his seat next to her but he never bunched up closer to her than the single couple of inches that the seats allowed them.

“By the way, I should tell you, that wasn't me who was rubbing your butt last night,” she promised him.

“I think you told me that and I wasn't able to say something about that,” he recalled, “to that I say—” He gaped at her. “—oh, no.”

“Yeah. But if it's any comfort, though, my mom had the hots for Joey when I brought him home.”

“Wow.” He raised his eyebrows at that.

“Yeah. If it's any further comfort, I'm nothing like that.”

“Is your mom like—always like that?” He lowered his voice a bit on that last part.

“Not really,” she admitted with a shrug of her shoulders. “It's like—something woke her up when I brought Joey home for her to meet him.”

He paused for a second.

“What exactly does she do?” he asked her.

“She's a writer. No clue what she writes, though, but she's got a good deal with it, such that—you know, she was able to move to Catalina and spoil us for a few days.”

Alex glanced behind him.

“Where even is Joey?” he wondered aloud.

“I have no clue.”

“Well, I saw you kissin' him,” he muttered to her.

“And?”

He held his hands on either side of his tea cup and he pursed his lips together.

“And? Alex?”

“Thought you guys were really gonna go there,” he confessed with a lean of his head towards her.

“We didn't, though,” she assured him in a low voice. She mopped up a bite of biscuit in gravy.

“How is it?” he asked her.

“Delicious.”

“We haven't gotten ours yet.”

“Are you serious?” She was stunned by that.

“Dead serious. Hope it comes soon, too—it smells divine.”

He took a sip from his tea and she ate up that bite of biscuit in unison with him.

“That was good pie, though,” he told her.

“The pie we had last night?”

“Yeah. Nice li'l slice of your mom's pie right in my belly.”

She giggled at him.

“Kinda wish we had some more of it,” he confessed.

“More of that plus the spag Bol from the first night,” she added.

“Oh, my god, that was unreal. So simple and homey but god—it just warmed me up so much that I fell asleep right when I lay down on the couch.”

He sipped on the tea some more and that time he closed his eyes to nourish the feeling. Sam took another bite of biscuit and gravy and she, too, closed her eyes so to relish in the lush pepper paired with the light and fluffy biscuit.

“Hey, you two guys wanna hang with us for New Year's and my birthday?” Scott offered them.

“Oh, yeah, that's right!” Sam declared. “Your birthday's New Year's Eve. Um—well, I was planning on coming to see you guys on New Year's but I dunno about afterwards, though.”

“Yeah, me, neither,” Alex confessed.

“Come on—it'll be fun!” Scott declared. “Metallica will be there, too. I talked to James just yesterday—they're gonna be with us.” Sam was reluctant however, given she had a hunch that Joey had his heart in Krista rather than her even with the kiss he had bestowed on her. Charlie called to Scott from across the room right then, and he raised a finger to them, and then he strode away from there. Sam turned to Alex and he looked on at her, puzzled and with both hands still around the base of his tea cup.

“Alex—will you hang with me on New Year's Eve?” she asked him.

“You're asking me to hang with you?” he echoed her.

“If you don't mind,” she told him with a shrug of her shoulders. He shifted his weight and flicked his black curls back from the side of his neck. The hair dye still held up but she could see it fading away from his hair. Those grays were persistent in how they didn't want to be hidden away.

“You know what?” he said. “I'd love to. Are we going back to Catalina or somewhere else?”

Sam hesitated for a second. That house up in Reno was empty but the memories still remained there.

“Let's go somewhere else,” she told him. “Has Testament ever toured Reno?”

“Uh, we've toured in Vegas. But—not really, no.” He gazed on at her, those deep eyes so deep and soulful. “Why?” He squinted at her.

She brought the tines of the fork to her lips but she never said anything to him. His face then lit up and he snapped his fingers.

“That reminds me,” he said.

“What's that?”

“I have something to give you,” he told her.

“More and more gifts each and every time,” she joked.

“Well, it's because we love you,” he declared. “You don't give gifts to people when you don't love them.”

He took another sip of tea and then he gestured for her to follow him into the front part of the restaurant, right to the front room and back in the direction of Joey and Krista.

“Careful with the mistletoe there,” she noted, to which Alex leaned his back towards the wall and let her go ahead to the other room. He then bowed after her, right underneath that little lush sprig of mistletoe. He joined her right by her side all the way back to the front door.

There was that small space right next to the door: near the front of the whole stack stood his guitar case. He crouched down to the floor and he nudged it to the side: Sam lingered next to him with her hands pressed to her hips.

“Let's see, I think—Eric had it stashed with him,” he said aloud, “like I showed it to him right before our second night in Reseda and he was like 'yeah, I'll keep it safe for you, Alex.'” He then lifted his gaze back up to her.

“Seeing as you just have your little purses,” he started, and he took out a large red wine colored handbag with a small five petaled flower comprised of large mismatched beads sewn to the front: a flower that reminded her of the oleanders there in the south land. It was obviously handmade but the sight of it made her gasp.

“Oh, my god, Alex—this is beautiful.”

“I just think of the glorious guitar strap that you and Belinda made for me for my birthday last year,” he confessed, “and I decided to make something of my own for you. I just see you with your purses and all the stuff you put into them, and at one point, I thought, 'man, Samantha could use something a little bigger, but I'm not finding anything larger, though.' It was actually an effort from me, my brother, and both my parents—I don't know the first thing about beading. But I suggested it to my mom and she goes, 'okay, honey, I'll give it a shot.' My brother and I picked out the color and the fabric, and my dad pieced it together—”

Sam threw her arms around him before he could finish his sentence, and then he returned the favor. Those long spidery fingers caressed over her back and her hair.

It was going to be the first New Year's Eve in which she would have no one to kiss especially if Joey was going to tease like that. But then again, Alex stood there next to her with his body close to her. The warmth of his body. The softness of his white skin and his jet black hair.

She looked right into his round boyish face and he showed her a little grin, albeit one full of imperfect teeth.

“So where do you wanna take me?” he asked her.

“I'll take you to the place I know all too well,” she told him. “It's a long drive, though.”

“I'm up for it,” he promised her. “As long as we get to see Anthrax in Long Beach the night before.”

“Of course! And that's Zelda's birthday, too.”

He gaped at her.

“Oh, shit, really?”

“Yeah. I just now remembered it, too. She threw it at me during the Stormtroopers of Death tour. I can't believe I still remember it, too.”

“Wow,” he said in a hushed voice. He adjusted the collar of his shirt and she slung the bag over her shoulder.

“Does it fit?” he asked her; and she brought the bag itself close to her hip.

“Like a glove,” she promptly replied.

“Excellent!” He flashed her a thumbs up.

“We have to go back to Catalina, though,” she told him. “Just—you know. Tell my mom what's up and whatnot.”

“Day after Christmas, though.”

“Of course,” she told him and with a nod of her head, “of course, of course, Alex. If she rubs your butt again, I'll tell her about it. Don't you worry.”

He fetched up a sigh and then he bowed his head a bit. He stepped back for a better look at the handbag under her arm. She brought it up before her thighs: the bud of the oleander was comprised of five small black onyx beads, much like the ones on the bracelet Chuck gave her, as well as one large wooden bead. Light pink and white beads meanwhile made up those five petals for that familiar poison flower.

“It almost looks like a book bag,” he noted. “Like something you take to school.” He froze right then. “By the way, are you even still in school?”

“I don't think I am,” she confessed. “I never got any pieces of mail from there—no grants or anything. As far as I know, Bill ended the whole entire career for me.”

“That greasy bastard,” he proclaimed. “Talk about not practicing what he preaches.”

“Right?” she laughed. “Although if I'm honest, Alex, I almost felt restrained while in school.”

“Well, I'm gonna relay the same thing Eric told you earlier—if it feels right, you're probably right.”

“Hey, Alex!” Eric himself said right behind them. “Biscuits are here.”

“Oh boy!” Alex rubbed his hands together, and Eric spotted the handbag under Sam's arm.

“Oh, hey, you found that in my case!”

“Sure as hell,” Alex replied.

“Thank you again, too,” Sam told him and they embraced one last time before Alex hurried back to the table with Eric. The warmth stayed in her face as she walked back to Scott and Belinda.

It was only fair to herself and Joey after all.

#fanfic #fanfiction #anthrax fanfic #testament fanfic #chapter 15 #souls of black #book four #fever in fever out #fever in fever out fanfic #anthrax #testament #testament band #scott ian #joey belladonna #joey belladonna x oc #alex skolnick #chuck billy #greg christian #eric peterson #long reads #also on ao3 #also on wattpad #writing #text

[artificialqueens]

Girl I Met On The Internet, 4/? (Crystal x Gigi) - Strawberry

Summary: Gigi and Crystal discuss things in person. Elites Only also gains a new member.

As soon as Crystal realized what was happening, she exited the Twitter app. The girl she had been talking to for months, the girl she had shared so many things with was Georgina Goode, who happened to be best friends with the girl who hated Crystal for no reason, because of course this would happen to Crystal.  

Crystal’s mind was racing, her brain instantly jumping to the worse case scenarios. Did Gigi know she was talking to Crystal this entire time? Was this entire thing just a ploy orchestrated by Dahlia to get dirt on her? Georgina was not gay, but Gigi was. Did Gigi even like her, or was Crystal just an experiment that no one would ever find out about because it was over the internet? She knew none of these theories made sense, she didn’t think Gigi had any idea who she was until now.

Gigi was freaking out. She had messaged Crystal, attempting to explain herself, but she had gotten no reply. Crystal hadn’t even read them. Panicking, she messaged Jan, hoping she would be online.

gigi: jan oh my fuckigng

jan!: WHAT HAPPENED? ARE YALL GFS??

gigi: …no

jan!: and why is that?

gigi: she literally goes to my school she sent me a selfie and i sent one back without saying that we’re irls and she just said what the fuck and now she wont message me back

gigi: i know u don’t like how rude dahlia is so im sorry i have to mention her but she’s literally the girl dahlia picks on for no reason i didn’t even know her name was crystal

jan!: W H A T 

gigi: what do i do

jan!: girl like i know?? this doesn’t usually happen to people.

jan!: when do you usually see crystal

gigi: i see her in the halls sometimes. she told me before that she stays mostly in the art wing tho

jan!: ok. tomorrow  go to the art wing and find her. talk to her. she’s probably not responding bc im sure it’s not a good feeling to find out the girl she’s been flirting with for months is best friends with the girl bullying her

gigi: god i feel so bad about that. i only stopped it once and i feel so bad

jan!: i love you but you’re a fucking idiot, gigi. you really are. go talk to her tomorrow and do better.

-

The next morning arrived faster than Crystal wanted it to. She was dreading going to school, knowing she couldn’t avoid Gigi forever. Thankfully, they did not have any classes together, but crossing paths was inevitable. The thought of seeing Gigi, even from across a crowded hallway, made her want to sob.

Her stomach started hurting because of her anxiety, but convincing her mother to let her stay home didn’t go over well. Crystal had convinced her mother at first, but as soon as she felt Crystal’s forehead to see if Crystal was running a temperature, which she wasn’t, she had insisted that Crystal stop pretending and get ready for school. She even drove Crystal to school instead of having her walk to make sure Crystal didn’t skip.

Crystal walked straight to the bathroom in the art wing. It was smaller, with only two stalls and the cell service was terrible; but it was vacant for the most part. She often stayed there when she wanted to skip class, and the only person she had ever encountered was Aiden, a shy girl from her art class. If Gigi was looking for her, this bathroom would be the last place she would look.

She had spent the morning sketching and listening to One Direction. She was in the zone, barely noticing when the door opened. Crystal didn’t bother looking up when she felt someone’s presence there, assuming that it was Aiden. “Hey, Aiden.”

“Uh,” Gigi started, “Crystal?”

Crystal’s head shot up, her eyes wide as she looked at a very relieved looking Gigi. “Oh, shit. Hey.” 

Gigi walks over to her, kneeling down to be at the same height as Crystal. “I know you’re probably upset with me, but can we talk? Please? I’ve been looking for you all period.”

Crystal nodded, moving her backpack to make a spot for Gigi to sit down. “Sorry I said what the fuck and dipped, I really didn’t know what else to do.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m going to sound like such a bitch but I didn’t even know your name until last night.” Gigi had never been good with names, only being able to remember her online friends’ names in the beginning because their name was attached to everything they did. Crystal had been known to Gigi as ‘Art Girl’ until last night.

Crystal had to laugh at that. “It’s fine. I don’t think Dahlia knows what my name is either, and I’ve lived in her mind rent free for years!”

“Speaking of her, I’m so sorry I only stopped her once. I didn’t want to get into it but I realize now that ignoring it is just as bad as joining in. Especially seeing the effects it has on you first hand, and now that I know I could’ve helped.”

Last night, Crystal gave Gigi a run down on every single color she had ever dyed her hair, and she had mentioned that she stopped dying her hair once she got into high school because she didn’t want to stick out even more, in fear of getting treated worse. It had made Gigi sad then, and knowing she could’ve changed that made her feel even worse. 

“Yeah, I don’t know how this is going to impact your real life, but no matter what I just hope you will step in next time.” 

Gigi reached over to grab Crystal’s hand and squeezed it gently. “I will never let her hurt you ever again. I care about you so much.”

They sat in silence for a few moments.

“Can I tell you something?” Crystal asked quietly, avoiding Gigi’s glance. 

“Of course. You can tell me anything.”

“I really like you. I know it’s probably weird now, since you’re not out and I’m not positive you feel the same, but I feel like I should tell you.”

Gigi smiled, placing her fingers under Crystal’s chin, lifting them up to make Crystal make eye contact with her. “I’ve been hoping you would say that.”

Crystal blushed at the contact. “Really?”

“Of course! You’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met. I would be such a fool not to like you back.”

The bell rang, interrupting their moment. Gigi pulled away, pulling her phone out of her jacket pocket to check the time. “Fuck. I have a test this period.”

“It’s okay. We can talk about this later,” Crystal reassured her, standing up even though she had no intention to go to her next class, “I can send you my address and we could meet after school?”

Gigi nodded, pulling Crystal into a tight hug. “This is the most emotion I’ve ever shown at once. I thought it was going to be scary but I feel so much better. Thank you for talking to me. If I was you I don’t think I would’ve.”

“I could never not talk to you.”

-

Crystal decided she would stay in the bathroom until lunch. It was mostly out of laziness, as her Gigi related anxiety was long gone. Doing academics was the last thing she felt like doing now. 

She had plenty of entertainment, she had missed a lot on Twitter, and had two thousand new messages from the group chat, even though she was gone for less than a day.

crystal: im skipping class what’s up ladies

jan!: hi crystal!!!

jaida: girl where have you been?? my world has been so empty

nicky: wtf jaida stop acting like i don’t exist

crystal: ehh personal things happened so i was ia. i dyed my hair green last night tho!! look!!

jan!: omg you’re so pretty

jaida: HOT HOT HOT

nicky: crystal. marriage now

heidi: omg girl you look so good!! i love your leprosy print shirt

heidi: leprosy

heidi: girl how do you spell lepord

heidi: leopard

heidi: there we go

nicky: you did it!

jaida: so proud of you

She was relieved they didn’t question her further, but she couldn’t help but be curious about what their reactions would be if they knew what was going on. Talking to the girls again made time go by extremely fast, before Crystal knew it the bell rang, declaring it lunch time.

She hadn’t eaten breakfast due to her anxiety from this morning, and just realized how hungry she was. Collecting her stuff, she exited the bathroom and headed down to the cafeteria. 

When she was in line to pay for a slice of pizza and a bag of pretzels, she had caught the attention of Dahlia, who didn’t hesitate to express how she felt about her new hair. 

“Ew, who in their right mind would dye their hair green?” Dahlia loudly asked Gigi, making sure Crystal was in ear shot. 

Before Crystal could defend herself, Gigi spoke up. “Dahlia, can you please shut the fuck up? No one cares what you think about Crystal’s hair, it looks fine. I can hardly tolerate you being rude anymore.”

“Georgina, what the fuck? I’m not rude!” Dahlia whined, making Crystal smile. She had been slightly surprised that it happened so soon, but she was happy Gigi stepped in.

Crystal paid and made sure to wave at the girls on her way out. Gigi waved back, and Dahlia looked the other way, her arms crossed.

-

crystal: it’s not that i didn’t believe you but i’m shocked that actually happened..

gigi: she’s lowkey mad at me but idc

gigi: i believe you owe me ur address? 

crystal: oh that’s right!

gigi: i have cheer after school but i can come over right after

crystal: yay!!! 

The rest of the day was painfully long. Every minute felt like an hour, Crystal was even bored during her art class. She couldn’t wait to go home and talk to Gigi.

She zoned out while she was walking home, wondering what could happen tonight. Crystal would like to think that Gigi was about to kiss her before they got interrupted, or maybe she was going to ask Crystal to be her girlfriend. Anything could happen, and Crystal couldn’t really tell how she felt about it.

When she got home, she tidied up her room. Her bed was unmade, her dirty clothes were on the floor, and a couple dirty cups littered the top of her night stand. It wasn’t too bad, Crystal would usually consider this clean for her, but it made her feel slightly embarrassed now. She had the urge to fix it, even though Gigi probably wouldn’t have cared too much if Crystal left it the way it was.

After her room was clean, she still had some time to spare before Gigi would be on her way. She headed to the group chat, curious to see what chaos they were up to currently. 

nicky: ADD HER

nicky: ADDD HEEERRRRR

jaida: jan please come back i hate it here

crystal: who are we adding?

nicky: JACKIE

jan!: NO WE WILL NOT BE ADDING HER

nicky: why :(

jan!: i can’t trust you guys to not embarrass me in front of her and she is not a stan!!! she will not understand any of you!

jaida: we don’t have to embarrass you, you’ll do it yourself. we can teach jackie stan language, she’s smart and she’ll catch on

nicky: JAIDAHJKFDGLK

crystal: omg add her

jan!: i hate you all so much

nicky: PLS

jan!: fine.

jan! added Jackie

jan!: jackie, these are my friends. don’t believe anything they say about me.

Jackie: Oh, hello everyone!

nicky: YAAAS JACKIE NATION

nicky: c’mon auto caps!

crystal: hi!  

jaida: hi jackie!

heidi: i leave to play animal crossing for 15 minutes and we get a new member… smh

nicky: not just any new member! it’s jackie!!!!

jaida: the way nicky likes jackie more than jan does

heidi: that’s impossible. jan is SUCH a simp for jackie

Jackie: What? 

crystal: OMFG

Jackie: Does that mean she likes me? I’m confused.

nicky: yes!

Jackie: That’s good. I would assume that Jan likes me, especially after what we did in my car earlier.

crystal: holy fucking shit

jan!: OMFGHFJSKDSFHJDFJK UH

jan!: JACKIE SHUT UP!!!!!!

Jackie: Why?

jaida: god i love it here

gigi: janet you better tell me everything later!!!

jan!: GET YOUR MINDS OUT OF THE GUTTER!!!!!!!

Crystal was so invested in the train wreck going on, only focusing on the messages sent by Jan and Jackie that she didn’t notice Gigi had come online until she got a notification that Gigi sent her a private message. 

gigi: im on ur street :)

Crystal ran to the door, opening it the second she saw Gigi step onto the porch. Gigi jumped, not expecting it. “Someone’s eager to see me, huh?”

Crystal blushed, letting Gigi in. “Shut up.”

Gigi kicked off her shoes and sat her backpack down next to them before letting Crystal lead her to her room. It was colorful, lots of posters and canvases covering the hot pink walls. “This is very you. I like it!”

“Thank you!” Crystal exclaimed, taking a seat on her bed and patting the space next to her. Gigi gladly sat next to her. 

“This is just really weird. 24 hours ago, I didn’t know who you were and now you’re in my bed. It’s kind of overwhelming,” Crystal blurted out, making Gigi frown. “But not in a bad way!” She clarified, “It’s just a lot to process.”

“Oh, yeah. It is a big change. Last night, I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend, but that obviously did not happen.” Gigi blushed, grabbing a throw pillow from Crystal’s bed to hide her face in. 

Crystal took the pillow away from her, sitting it next to them, “Do you still want me to be your girlfriend?”

Gigi nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t know if we should become official yet. We know each other so well, but I feel like we need to see if we vibe in person.”

“I don’t think we will have an issue with that, but I agree. Let’s take it slow. But can I try something first?”

Gigi grinned, “Yeah, what?”

“This.” Crystal whispered, leaning forward until her lips pressed against Gigi’s. Gigi kissed her back, wrapping her arms around Crystal’s neck and pulling Crystal even closer.

#rpdr fanfiction #gigi goode #crystal methyd #dahlia sin #jackie cox #jan sport #jaida essence hall #heidi n closet #crygi #lesbian au #social media au #girl i met on the internet #strawberry #s12 #submission

[seijohsfairy]

lovingsuna

thinking abt art student hanamaki who needs to find a model that’ll pose for him for his anatomy class sketches, and who better than his sweet little sister 🥺 even when he tells you that you’ll have to be fully nude, you don’t even bat an eye! anything to help your precious niichan!poor hironii, his fingers trembling as you start to groan and huff from holding the position 🥺🥺 ohh if he kept his eyes closed for jus a second longer, he’b b able to manipulate all those pretty sounds into a lil vision of you lying underneath him, looking so cute n pliant 🥺

𝙸𝙵 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙳𝙾

art student hanamaki (´-ω-`) want him to make little sister his muse, praise and worship that pretty body until you’re shaking from his touch. thank you clare for indulging in our art student hiro again ily

tw incest, nonconsensual ‘pictures’

Nothing is more embarrassing. He’s supposed to be good at this. Supposed to be a professional in training. But his hands are so goddamn shaky that it’s become useless to put pen to paper entirely. He made you take a break, wrapped you back up in the soft robe and handed you some water, but now he’s stuck in the corner of the couch with your head resting against his arm, and for some reason that’s worse. Your chest and the line of your neck is put down on paper only because he had to busy his hands while staring at you. And he knows it’s wrong, he knows too, but you’re so precious when you’re unaware and blissfully ignorant. “Can I watch while we pause, niichan?” you ask, long lashes splayed out above your pretty pupils that look blown so wide.

He can’t help himself. “Of course, c’mere.” You crawl into his lap when he opens his arms, trying not to react when you shift around on his already hardening cock over and over until you find a comfortable space. After a while he has to grab for your hip to hold you still. “Stop wiggling though, I— can’t focus.” You pout, but relent, slumping into him with one arm swung around his shoulders so you can look, and your knees pulled to your chest. You reach up to mindlessly pick at the dark undercut while he draws, only the sound of the pencil and your breathing in the room for a while. He’s too tense to draw nice smooth lines, but you don’t seem to care much.

After a while, you rest your nose against his neck. “Are the other girls you draw like this better models?”

He almost chokes on his air at your croaky tone, pulling back to watch you. “What? No— why- why would you say that?”

As you shift towards him more, he has to bite through a groan, the curve of your ass pressing down right on his length. It takes too much effort not to rut back into you just a little, just to relieve some pressure. You start picking at the edge of his sweater, looking at the piercings at his collar bones instead of his eyes. “Because you almost never ask me, only when no one else is available,” you mumble, sinking into yourself a little more.

“Oh,” he drops his arms at that, putting aside the sketchbook and pencil. His hands hover at your sides then, and again you shift in his lap to turn towards him more. Fuck, it’s almost like you’re doing it on purpose now, but he knows you better. You just crave your big brother’s attention, always have. You always have tried too hard to gain his approval, and it’s lead him— thinking about you like this. It’s fucked up. When he doesn’t respond, you pull your hands away from him, already starting to apologize, but he grabs your wrists to keep you from leaving. “No, no, listen. Hey,” he says, waiting until you look, “you want me to… to ask you for this stuff?”

“I want you to think I’m good enough for it, niichan,” you pout, curling back up to his body even closer. This way your tits are pressed up against his chest and your naked body right on top of his lap and- it’s increasingly tempting to slip out of the room to go jerk off to the thought of you with the second. His pretty, innocent little sister. “Want Hiro nii to pick me instead of other people,” you say. That’s enough to have him tipping you over on the couch, ignoring your squeak as he comes to hover over you, slotting his hips between your legs.

“What the hell does that mean?” he asks, breathing in and out deeply as you stare up at him, your one hand on his chest. “You’re naked in my lap telling me to pick you. Wh- what the hell are you talking about, huh? I’m your big brother. Aren’t you thinking some weird things, huh?” Your wide eyes flick between his for a moment as he holds your wrists down beside your head, thigh coming up between your legs, breaths coming out shallow. But then you fight against the grip enough to brush your soft fingertips up his bicep and tracing over his tattoos with mindless swirls, and wrap your legs slowly around his waist. Hiro nii’s breathing stops completely for a moment when the soft of your naked pussy pushes up against his hard cock through just sweats.

“I- I found the other sketchbook, Hiro nii,” you whisper at him then, and in an instant everything feels like it’s crumbling around him. The other sketchbook. The one with his naked drawings of you when you’re in bed and defenseless, those with the quick doodles of you in the bath when you leave the door open and think he’s not looking, with drawings of you and him in bed and you rocking yourself on his cock— that sketchbook? He shivers when you seem to tighten your legs around him a little more again, hard length twitching between your bodies.

‘I’m sorry,’ is the first thing at the tip of his tongue, but you’re faster. Leaning in to bring your mouth right up to his, clinging to his shoulders. “You want to do this, right?” you say, and then you press forward until he can taste your lips. A few gentle pecks at first, until he regains himself to feel you pulling him closer, his fat cock between your legs and your nails digging into him through his sweater with a whine. “Please, niichan,” you pout, rolling your hips to him and pulling a groan from his throat. “Make me want it too, Hiro nii. I can be good for you.” Again you buck your hips to his, and again, until he has to pull away for a second to inspect you. Your robe is open and almost completely slid off one shoulder, your chest heaving and… your cunny glistening with slick. “See? Want you,” you bring your hand down then, spreading open your lips with two fingers and trailing them back up to your clit.

“I know you touch yourself to me, I walked in on you once. So show me, please.” That’s all he needs to pull his sweatpants down, sweater up and to drop forward, going back to between your legs as he kisses you breathless. Over and over, as he hurries to rub the drooling head of his cock into the warm wetness between your legs. You whine softly when he pushes inside the head, pulling away from his mouth to drop your face back and let your mouth fall open. He grabs your tits with both hands when you allow him to go deeper into your pretty, wet pussy, laving kisses all over.

“Fuck, my little sister’s too pretty, drives me crazy,” he grunts, watching your expression when he shoves himself in the last part of the way. Your walls stretched around his cock, clinging to him when he pulls back out. “Fucking- shit, you’re so tight.” And then when you cry his name when he thrusts back into you, he squeezes your skin between his fingers until his fingertips leave marks, grabbing onto your hips and yanking you back down onto him to start a hard, unforgiving pace. The slaps of skin meeting skin are loud, and so are his grunts as he mumbles your name. “Niichan’s gonna fuck your pretty, tight cunt until you never want anyone else again. Promise.”

[nokomiss]

For the prompt, how about Jason and Damian with Letter J? Thank you.

I didn’t forget this, @dn-ky! just got a little busy. Hope you enjoy! 

*

There was a loud thumping noise and even louder cursing coming from the library.

Jason would normally keep walking, heading instead to the kitchen for that home cooked meal that Alfred had promised, but he recognized the voice.  Damian sounded frustrated to the point of tears,which simply was not normal, and he had the feeling that if Tim or Bruce wandered by and chose to investigate, that Damian would buck up and become even more recalcitrant than usual.

He stood outside the door for a long moment, listening -- the cursing continued, though quieter, and with a single-minded determination that Jason almost admired. He sighed and pushed open the door. Damian was in the center of the room, surrounded by a small fortune’s worth of art supplies.  This wouldn’t be unusual, except instead of Damian’s preferred sketchpads, pencils and paints, he was surrounded by hot glue guns, googly eyes, and various colorful bits of fluff.

“What the hell is all this?” Jason asked, nudging  a pile of what looked like feathers dyed in primary colors with the toe of his boot.

“A nightmare,” Damian said darkly. There was a smear of blue paint on his nose; Jason was absolutely not going to tell him about it.

“So I see,” Jason said. There was a poster board in front of Damian that he was attempting to glue pipe cleaners along the edges of. It wasn’t going well, judging by the glops of glue and the sad state of the pipe cleaners.  My Family, it proclaimed in colorful balloon letters. He was going to regret this, but… “Can I help?”

“No.” Damian abandoned the pipe cleaners and dug through the pile of craft supplies, coming up with some sparkly fuzzballs. He picked up the glue gun and began to affix them around a picture of Bruce. It looked as though Bruce was being attacked by muppets.

Jason gave one more thought to the home cooked meal; Alfred had promised him soup. He supposed that it would wait. Sit there simmering away while he granted mercy to the boy.

It would still be waiting on him.  He sat down and grabbed some glue.

“You know who you should call?” Jason said a few minutes later after making the mistake of opening the glitter. 

“Absolutely not.”  Damian didn’t even look up from where he was adding sparkly letters under Jason’s picture. Jason leaned over to see what he was spelling out: RIP.

“You know how happy Steph gets when there’s glitter and you ask her for help,” Jason tried again. He could leave, he knew, but they were actually making progress and Damian was no longer cursing.

“No one else can know,” Damian said, probably trying for stern but it was undercut by the fact that glitter now cling to the paint on his nose. It was adorable. Jason was going to take a pic the second the kid’s attention was turned and use it as blackmail for years. 

Then he noticed what Damian was doing. “Hey, those flames better be because of how fire I am, not because of anything theological.”

Damian lowered the flame sticker and put it to the side, leaving the picture of fifteen year old Jason unmarred. 

“So why are you going this overboard?” Jason asked. Damian had a tendency to overdo things, sure, but this was hardly his style.

Damian focused on adding a poop emoji sticker over Tim’s picture. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. Embarrassed. “This is a redo.”

“A redo— Damian, did you fail an assignment?”  Jason forgot what he was doing and accidentally let a puddle of glitter glue form. “Shit,” he muttered, attempting to mop it up.  

Damian’s silence spoke volumes. Jason looked again at the mountain of colorful, sparkly supplies and did the math. “Did your teacher suggest more color?”

“She said my first attempt was austere and depressing,” Damian admitted. 

Jason narrowed his eyes. “Show me.”

Damian shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”  He carefully drew an elaborate border around Cass’s picture in purple marker. 

Jason thought it did matter. He stood up, brushing stray bits of glitter off his pants -- these were his work pants, too, he was going to be leaving a glitter trail on the rooftops of Gotham tonight -- and headed for Damian’s backpack, which was laying near the door. Like the kid had dropped it on his way in, which, again, not like him.

Damian was so focused on his art that he didn’t realize Jason’s plan at first. 

The poster board was folded up and crammed into the back pocket of the backpack, and Jason almost looked it over at first. It was dark enough to blend in.Then -- just as Damian launched himself at Jason and attempted to stop him from opening it, Jason easily dodged him and opened it anyway.

It was austere, the teacher had been right on that count. But the effort Damian had put in to capture the family’s aesthetic was incredible-- dark grey poster board, black and white pictures of each family member, with a careful description beneath each. No further decoration, but it was clean and classic, and reminded Jason of the lines of the Wayne building downtown.

Then he realized that the black and white pictures were actually sketches of each family member. Bruce looking on with approval, arms crossed over his chest. Dick laughing, a spoonful of cereal halfway to his mouth. Tim grinning with a gaming controller gripped in both hands, clearly gleeful from a victory. Cass caught mid-pirouette, lines of her body clean and graceful. Duke with a soft smile, like he wasn’t quite sure how he’d ended up there, but was glad for it. Alfred, mouth quirked up in that smirk he got so often when watching them. Even Talia, the pencil marks soft enough to make her seem almost gentle. 

And there was even Jason. Damian had left his face unfinished enough that he looked like the child he’d been before his death, though the smile was the same.  

Damian had even included pictures of the pets, carefully and lovingly rendered.

“What the fuck,” Jason said. “Why are we creating this monstrosity when you did this?”

“My teacher doesn’t believe that I did it,” Damian said stiffly.”She said I was to do another one unassisted.”

“Your teacher’s an asshole,” Jason said. “This is incredible.”

He looked back at the mess of glitter, glue, and various craft supplies that was drying on the floor. “You know what we should do?”

“We are not hanging that up,” Damian said stiffly. Jason shook his head. “I think we should go egg your teacher’s house.”

Damian scrunched up his nose. “I don’t think--”

“If you think that Robin and Red Hood can’t manage to egg one house without getting caught…”

“I didn’t say that,” Damian said stiffly.

“Then come on,” Jason said, folding the poster back up. “You can turn in the new one tomorrow. But tonight? Sweet revenge.”

Damian hesitated a moment more before succumbing to his desire for vengeance.

He even got caught up enough in gathering egging supplies that he didn’t notice that Jason took the poster.

#my fic #jason todd #damian wayne #batfamily #dn-ky