#anyways. adventure in paint pens

[omtai]

we brought too many guitars. we can’t get rid of the guitars, so………

#the jersey or bust video has been looping in my mind for days #2 in 3 tumblrinas would keep driving if they saw her at the side of the road 😢😢😢 SAD! #anyways. adventure in paint pens #omtai art #gerard way #hesitant alien #also i fucked up the face on the bindle one so. ignore the sticky note

[natalieironside]

Hey you should know about Billy & Tugboat SallyForth

Hey so my best good pal J.N. Fishhawk and his best good pal Johnny Rocket wrote and illustrated a children's book. You can get it through Barnes & Noble or on Patreon.

Hop aboard Tugboat SallyForth with Billy and his friends for a day of magical adventures above and below the weird, wild waters of the Wide Whim Sea.

Billy and his family live in the village of Can-A-Ree on the shores of the Wide Whim Sea. Billy's grandfather, the Old Salt, has taught him almost all there is to know about tugboating. Billy & Tugboat SallyForth follows Billy and his little crew--consisting of one Ship's Cat and one Ship's Rat--as they take a day trip to explore the watery wonders their world has to offer.

Billy's plan is to don his diving helmet and slip below the surface for a day of schooling with the fishes. Once he's in the water, his expedition doesn't quite go as planned. But with a little help from his (mostly) trusty first mate, he turns his troubles into an aquatic romp to remember. Deep beneath the waves, Billy makes a surprising new friend, and even manages to learn a few things along the way.

This first-in-a-series story introduces readers to the quizzical, quirky World of Whim Sea. Full color mixed media images, digital illustrations, watercolor paintings, and black and white pen-and-ink drawings portray Billy and his friends' sometimes silly, sometimes surreal escapades.

A hybrid of a picture book, a chapter book, and a sequential art book, Billy & Tugboat SallyForth mixes illustrator Johnny Rocket Ibanez's whimsical comic style imagery with author J.N. Fishhawk's playful, pun filled text to tell a tale of underwater adventure for kids of all ages.

Anyways you can buy the book

Check em out on Patreon

#rebagel

[aniron48]

Love Letters - Day 9

Here we are at the end of our choose your own adventure, friends. I've said this before, but it's been an absolute delight, doing this with all of you, and writing this together. Your choices shaped every step of the narrative, so if you've enjoyed the story, you should feel proud (and if you didn't, uh, not it? 😉)

If you need to catch up on a day or two, you can find the other installments here. I'll keep this post pinned for a day or two as well, and may put the finished version up on ao3 eventually. Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5 Day 6 Day 7 Day 8

Last, but not remotely least: my wife has been making noises about joining Tumblr, because I told her about this, and she wants to read it in its original form. I hope she does, because all of this is for her. 💜

Conclusion starts below the cut!

And tomorrow at noon, as instructed, he would meet Q in front of the Fighting Temeraire. 

At precisely twelve o’clock, Bond walked into room 34 of the National Gallery. Q was already there, this time, a reversal of the day they’d met a little over a year ago. He’d swapped his anorak for a wool coat, his suit for a navy blue cardigan and a white button-up, and, in a nod to the day, he sported a navy blue bowtie with tiny white hearts on it. So much had changed, since the last time they’d been here, much of it because of the man waiting for him on the bench, looking at a Turner painting.

“James,” Q said as Bond approached. “You got the package I sent?”

“Yes,” Bond said. “It’s the best thing anyone’s ever sent me, Q. Even without the exploding pen. Though thank you for that, by the way, I still haven’t managed to clean up all the confetti hearts. I even found some in my pants, last night.”

“How in the world—actually, never mind, I’m not sure I want to know.”

Bond gestured to the envelope Q was clutching in his right hand. “And you got your letter as well, I see.”

“Yes,” Q said. “I, ah—I haven’t opened it, yet. You’re going to think it’s silly of me, but I was too nervous.”

Bond sat down beside him. “Don’t be nervous,” he said, taking Q’s hand in his own. “You can open it with me, if you like.”

Q nodded. He squeezed Bond’s hand, and then released it, taking a shaky breath as he opened the envelope and began to read.

My darling Q,

A wise man recently told me that I should be honest above all else, in my letter to you, so I’ll start with a small confession: I have read countless love letters in the last few days, preparing to write my first to you. It was the best thing I could have done, but not for the reason you might think: it showed me that there are as many ways to tell someone what they mean to you as there are people in the world.

I needed to know that, because so many of the traditional idioms people use to describe love didn’t seem to fit the way I feel for you. Take “falling” in love, for example. I haven’t found that to be particularly apt. I’ve fallen from any number of things—helicopters, buildings, construction cranes, moving cars—and loving you hasn’t been like any of that.

I’m beginning to suspect that I’m doing an absolutely shit job of writing this letter, but the thing is, so many people treat pain as a kind of virtue, as something that must be surmounted before you gain anything of value. It’s astonishing how untrue that really is, though, and it’s equally astonishing how long it took me to learn it. How the only reason I’ve begun to learn it is because loving you is the only thing in my life that never hurts.

I’m not trying to say that relationships are effortless. I’m not that daft. What I mean is—loving you isn’t falling at all, Q. It’s a lie-in on a Sunday, with you in my arms, and the cats at our feet, and the certain knowledge that all of me is welcome there. That all of me is home, because by some miracle you know me better than anyone, and you love me anyway.

So much of my life is a fight, and you remain the most effortless surrender.

I love you with all of me, Q. And I always will.

Love,

Your James

Q sniffed, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to swipe at his face. “Don’t look at me. I’m not crying.”

“Of course not,” Bond said. He reached out to wipe Q’s cheeks with his thumbs, and rested his forehead against Q’s. He stayed there for a long moment, leaning into Q, feeling the warmth of his body alongside his own.

“We’re quite the matched set, aren’t we?” Q asked eventually.

“I’d say so,” Bond said. “Oh, and there’s one more thing.“ He reached into the leather satchel at his feet, and pulled out the snow globe he’d bought in Bath. “I bought this to throw Moneypenny and Tanner off the track, but do you know, it’s rather grown on me.”

Q shook it, and watched as snow fell on the replica of the Bath Circus. His smile widened.

“It’s perfect,” he said.

“By the way, I presume that Moneypenny and Tanner aren’t actually having an affair.”

“Do you know, I’d convinced them to go down with me to Bath to mail your package, since we all had the Saturday morning free—I thought we’d make a day of it. If you’d taken the train into Bath, instead of driving, you might have run into all of us. As it was, I had to take the train back by myself. But I gather I had the more comfortable journey.”

They sat in silence for a while longer, looking at the Fighting Temeraire on the wall.

“Does it still make you melancholy, when you look at it?” Bond asked.

“Maybe a little. It’s a melancholy painting, in many ways. A painting about change. But then, not all change is bad, is it? Something ends, and something else begins. Maybe there’s hope in it, in its own way.” Q shifted on the bench, turning to look at Bond. “And what about you? Do you still just see a bloody big ship?”

“Well,” Bond said, considering. “There are actually two ships, sailing toward the viewer, aren’t there? The older, wiser, stately ship, and the younger, cheekier ship there in the front, dragging the older one into the future whether he wills it or no. It’s a metaphor, you see.”

“A metaphor for what, exactly?”

“The ships are a metaphor. The painting’s actually about shagging.”

“Oh my god. And here I was starting to think you were a romantic.”

“I contain multitudes.”

“I do love you, you know,” Q said. “In case you needed reminding.”

“I do,” Bond said. “Frequently.” He reached up to tuck a stray curl behind Q’s ear. “And I love you too. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” Q looked down at his watch. “Do you want to have a look around? I took the day, but if you have to be back at work—“

“There’s nowhere I need to be,” Bond said. “We have time.”

The gallery slowly started to fill up with people, students and tourists and docents giving tours, eddying around the pair of them like boats in a harbor. Some of them may have noticed them sitting there, the agent and his quartermaster, looking for all the world like an ordinary couple on a Valentine’s Day outing. Others never noticed them at all. But they stayed for a long while, and then they were gone, and when they left, they left together.

#Love Letters #Love Letters Day 9 #El fin #00q #choose your own adventure #00q choose your own adventure

[thatoneerin]

FINALLY GOT SOMETHING DONE FOR MY ALERUDY HC (I refuse to call it an au because ITS REAL TO ME >:’( )

Anyway, enjoy my little characterization/head-canon thing I did for the Vargas-Parra fam 😌

Maria - 7

soft spoken - shy around new people - brutally honest - creative - funny - intelligent - clever - jealous 

super into motorcycles, much to her papa’s pleasure (he’s got like, 3)

closer to Rodolfo than she is with Alejandro. they’re still close, y’know, but if she needs comfort, she’s going to Rudy

will often blurt out whatever she’s thinking about a situation. It’s usually not anything too bad, but there have been couple of times where Ale n Rudy have had to pull her aside and be like “dude, you can’t just say that shit”

her favorite superhero is Wonder Woman and will, at the drop of a pen, go on a tangent on how cool she is if anyone even mentions superheroes

doesn’t cling onto her dads as often as Sophie does, but if she notices they’ve been paying more attention to Sophie (or literally any other kid) that day, she’ll grab their hand then stare daggers at the offending “attention hogger”

Sophie - 5

outgoing - loud - mischievous - confident - creative - athletic - curious - stubborn - forgetful 

obsessed with mangoes? for some reason?? has eaten some every day for the past like, year, and it's healthy so Alejandro and Rudy are just like “lol, okay I guess??” (she’s neurodivergent, it’s a comfort food)

glitter.. everywhere.. Ale and Rudy don’t even know where it comes from cause they’re smart enough to have never bought any, but she’ll just have glitter all over her hands or where ever else on her body (this doesn’t really change as she gets older, but instead of glitter, it’s paint and marker)

is equally close with both of her dads, honestly just clings onto the one closest to her at. all. times. if she’s not distracted with her sister or something else. which, honestly, is pretty often because she’s pretty easily distracted (lol same kid)

LOVES big animals, especially since she’s being raised around cows and horses. Loves doing chores out on the ranch with Alejandro.

Rodolfo aka Papa

nurturing - witty - ambitious - funny - thoughtful - passionate - fearless - protective - overthinker 

Is just Snow White. He can and will pick up any animal/bug with his bare hands and never ends up getting hurt from it. Constantly freaks out the girls (and to an extent, Alejandro) when he shows up to them with a big ass spider in his hands

FANTASTIC singing voice. Will sing the girls to sleep when they’re having especially rough nights

Can cook, he just prefers to bake 

Has tattoos of Maria and Sophie’s newborn baby handprints wrapping around his thumbs

Had to learn early on that he couldn’t hover over the babies all the time, that they would get hurt sometimes and that’s okay

Went to his mama and sister A LOT for help (his sister had already had three kids by the time Rudy had his first) ((not actually HAD, they had a surrogate))

VERY dry and sarcastic humor, and is quick to think of something funny to say. Maria slowly picks up on it, sometimes saying stuff out of the blue that makes Ale and Rudy do a double take, leading Alejandro to say “I see where she gets her humor from” with a shit eating grin on his face.

Becomes a part time pet Veterinarian after getting honorably discharged from the military. He’d always been interested in being a Vet (haha), but, y’know. He kinda followed Alejandro into the military and stayed there for a good 15 years, so-

Alejandro aka Papi/Dad

bold - impulsive - funny - short temper - adventurous - encouraging - loud - stubborn 

Is mainly the one who plays with the girls since he’s the one that’s home with them most of the time (he works from home. what does he do? great question, i haven't figured that out yet)

Has literally had to stop himself from really arguing with his daughters (mainly Sophie) multiple times because he’ll just stop and be like “I’m arguing with a 5 year old, what the hell am I doing??”

Has a terrible temper, but has NEVER raised his voice at his girls. He learned how to control it to the point where he’ll be able to calm himself down enough to not yell, but will still have Rudy be the one that scolds the girls most times, just in case. He never, ever wants his girls to be scared of him. He still makes sure to redirect his girls when needed, he just doesn’t do it when he’s mad

VERY early bird, Like, 6am early. Goes for runs in the morning then gets back in time to cook breakfast before anyone else is even up. There have been a few times where he’s caught Mariana up super early as well, playing in the living room by herself. He then usually sits with her for a while before making breakfast

Kind of a workaholic. It’s gotten better since he got out of the military, but if he’s got something to do that pertains to work, you best believe he’s sitting his ass down and not doing anything else until that thing is done

Gets WAY into sports (football/soccer, *COUGH*), he’s one of those dads. Only times the girls will hear both of their dads yell is at sports games (Sophie joins in on it when she gets older and gets more into sports, Maria thinks they’re all crazy)

Picks up woodcarving after leaving the military, actually made a few of the girl’s toys that they end up keeping as they get older

Is the one that cooks the most (also ties in with the fact that he’s the one at home the most)

CLUMSY AS SHIT. Will trip over his own feet constantly, always making the girls (and to extension, Rudy) laugh their asses off at it

#is this what ive been doing for the past few days instead of the actual story? #maybe... #but i started it because i needed a better understanding the girls personalities #but i actually started having fun doing this so #yeah :) #ill start working on the actual story again today #i cant promise itll come out soon though- #alerudy #aledolfo #call of duty mw2 #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra

[erabundus]

@ruinlost &&. said... “what are you working on ?”-for taiyang!!

he's  leaning  with  his  back  against  a  small  outcropping  of  stones.  there's  a  river  somewhere  behind  him;  he  can  hear  the  water  as  it  flows  —  a  relaxing  sound,  like  nature's  WHITE  NOISE.  it's  accompanied  by  the  faint  scratch  of  pen  against  paper.  there's  a  journal  propped  up  against  the  wanderer's  knees.  it's  the  same  one  he  uses  for  miscellaneous  things;  poetry,  shopping  lists  and  the  like.  today,  the  page  is  adorned  with  sketches.  schematics  —  or  at  least  the  roughest  drafts  of  them.  strange  gemstones  carved  in  intricate  shapes,  delicately  twisted  metal,  notes  on  materials.  some  have  been  scratched  out,  splashes  of  ink  staining  the  drawings  like  blood  from  a  violent  gash.  others  have  been  corrected  with  a  more  careful  touch;  aspects  of  their  designs  still  considered  worth  salvaging.  it's  still  too  early  in  the  creative  process  for  anything  CONCRETE  to  have  taken  shape,  but  that's  fine  —  the  wanderer  thinks  he  would  rather  go  slow  to  ensure  a  more  POLISHED  final  product.

it's  been  quite  some  time  since  he's  had  the  opportunity  to  work  on  this  kind  of  project.  that,  too,  is  another  reason  to  truly  savor  it.

the wanderer  looks  up  at  the  sound  of  taiyang's  voice,  only  realizing  at  that  precise  moment  he's  been  nibbling  absentmindedly  on  the  back  of  his  pen.   ❝  hmm?  ❞  what  is  he  working  on?  ren  scoots  to  the  side,  gesturing  for  the  boy  to  join  him  if  he  feels  so  inclined.  ❝  do  you  remember  that  time  i  drew  those  swords  for  you?  i'm  doing  something  not  so  dissimilar  from  that.  ❞   of  course,  at  the  time  he  had  been  simply  SCRIBBLING  in  the  dirt  —  this  was  a  considerably  more  intricate  process.  more  details,  more  effort.  he  holds  out  the  journal  for  the  other  to  see.  the  DRAWINGS  are able to paint  a  clear  enough  picture  (  no  pun  intended  )  even  if  the  notes  that accompany  them  are  a  touch  obscure by comparison.

❝  i  was  considering  making  a  new  CATALYST  for  someone  i  know.  ❞   amanda,  to  be  more  specific.  ❝  she's  shaping  up  to  be  a  skilled  adventurer  in  her  own  right ...  but  the  weapon  she's  using  could  be  better ...  ❞ that's the most polite way to word his feelings, anyway.

MORBID CURIOSITY

#ruinlost #( new weapon set but they're all made by ren )

[dharmaart]

Hi !

I'm so fond of your sketchs !! Will you draw more mythological horses (kelpies, backahasts, each uisges, alastyns, unicorns, sleipnir, pegasus...) ? Or others mythological creatures like wolpertingers, valravens, peritios, jackalopes... ?

I would like to draw more often with pen ball but I just don't practice enough and the result is not okay ^^

Have a good day !

I'm very happy to have found your blog :)

Thanks!

It kind of depends on how I'm feeling, I'm generally drawn to more realistic subjects but since it seems like quite a few people enjoy my more mythologicaly inspired work I will try to do some more. I'm probably less likely to attempt mythological creatures that aren't horses, but I do like the idea of being a bit more artistically adventurous at some point. A lot of this uncertainty is to do with the insecurities I feel about creating more imaginative art.

I have actually painted a troll but it was a couple of years ago and in the style of John Bauer. I'm not sure if that counts but I've included it here anyway.

#dharmaart

[honourablejester]

Okay, this is rather (VERY) spoilery for the 2nd book of the Eight Petals Argent solo adventure series, but I just want to quickly talk about my fondness for this one (rather important) NPC:

Because we fucked up the portal programming, we accidentally dragged our pen-pusher employer through the gate with us, and he was not remotely prepared. To quote:

“Me? I…” Arold splutters. “I never meant to get near that portal. You must have done something wrong with the levers! I should still be in Waterdeep right now!”

Rufio sighs deeply.

“If I knew you’d bring me on this trip,” Arold continues, “I could have worn some trousers.” He lifts the hem of his robe, showing how uselessly he’s equipped for adventuring.

He literally doesn’t even have pants. He doesn’t have his spellbook. He has pretty much nothing. We dragged this poor pantless wonder on a desert island adventure with curses and pirates and horrible monsters, and pretty much everything that could possibly go wrong for him (short of actual death, thankfully) promptly did go wrong. He got happy fixing a device, gets it working again, and it immediately flies off on him:

The three of you watch the painted creature fly away.

“Shit,” Arold says when the dragon has passed beyond sight.

We come across a horrible massacre climbing a mountain and he, a half-elf pencil pusher, encounters the lovely site of another half-elf torn in two. We find her legs later.

“Half a half-elf,” Arold muses, pointing out her slightly pointed ears. The Seekers’ agent sits down in the dirt with a vacant expression. You remember that Arold never signed up to see the dangers—and sometimes horrors— that come with adventuring. Watching him stare into space, absently touching his own ears, makes you wonder whether he’ll return to his old, pampered lifestyle once you’re all safely back in Waterdeep. Sights like this can change a person.

And then, because we fucked up protecting him early on, long-term effects happen, and he winds up in a coma. And to fix him we have to destroy at least part of what he’s been sent to get. Like. He did not sign up for any of this. Later on, when we get him back alive and rescue arrives, complications happen, and we have to demand something of him rather strenuously. He gives it immediately. When everybody’s reunited again after said complications:

Arold is next off the landing boat, followed by some of the Homeward’s sailors carrying luggage. Arold hugs you fiercely.

“We should not have become friends,” the half-elf says, his voice serious. “It made me feel guilty to wish you were in my place during that voyage.”

He hugs me. We dragged him (accidentally, but still) through absolute hell, nearly got him killed, and he hugs me. And then argues on our behalf with our mutual employers to get us extra money despite the fact that we literally blew up half of what we were sent to get.

And as a crowner, he comes by our place to tell us this after some … other complications have happened, so he busts in all cheerful and walks face-first into a very tense mood. Poor bastard:

“Money!” the half-elf says, joyously. A moment later, he seems to intuit the pervading mood and tempers his enthusiasm. His voice turns solemn.

I have just finished this book (Fight for the Dawn Saber), and I have to say I am very fond of this poor bugger. I will kill people for Arold. Not a bother. And, given complications, I may well have to, but that’s fine. That’s absolutely fine. I’m gonna pick him up, and I’m gonna put him somewhere safe, some nice office with no pirates or constructs or infected aberrations, and I’m gonna shank anyone who looks at him funny. It’ll all be fine.

Sorry. Just. He’s been through a lot. I really want to just wrap him up and give him soup and (if at all possible) gently steer him out of the firing line. This was absolutely not the job he signed on for.

Anyway. Carry on.  

#d&d #5e #solo adventures #eight petals argent #getting attached to hapless NPCs #but seriously #that poor bastard #i love him

[ivelovedhimthroughworse]

Get To Know Me

Thanks for the tags: @nausikaaa, @captain-aralias, @raenestee, @angelsfalling16, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @aristocratic-otter, @bookish-bogwitch and @fight-surrender

Relationship Status:

Happily in a relationship with someone I've known for more than half my life. We were friends for six or seven years, maybe, before having our "something to talk about" epiphany. 

Favorite Colour: 

Red. (For clothes and possessions)

Favorite food:

I used to be a butter and cheese enthusiast, but sadly, no longer. 

So my favorite food is bread. Fresh, fluffy, yeasty, yum. And dark chocolate. 

Chocolate chip cookies (made with dark chocolate and margarine) are my favorite dessert. 

Song stuck in your head:

There's a song called "Whispers of the Heart" that's been haunting me nonstop for three days. I think it has the lyrics, "country roads, take me home".

Why is this in my head? Remember @foolofabookwyrm-activated made the top tier Rick Roll playlist? There was an orchestral version by Vitamin String Quartet. I was up late on Saturday night editing my chapter and thought I'd check out more of their instrumental pop covers. The last song before I went to bed was Whispers of the Heart and my brain got stuck on loop and I fell asleep with it and woke up with it and here we are today, despite the fact that I only know maybe eleven words of the lyrics. 

Someone in my house is singing Sink the Bismark, so that may dislodge and become the new earworm winner (Please please please).

Last thing you googled:

Lyrics to Sink the Bismarck by Johnny Horton

Lots of Victorian period photographs and engraving for COTTA, including but not limited to period ladies' glasses, ladies' hairstyles for curly hair, cross-dressing and long hair for men

Time:

16:04pm

Dream trip:

Costa Rica. Especially for a tree top adventure. Or hang gliding. 

Last book you read:

Sharkmartini's fanfic series On the Relativity of Time. Okay, it's not the last book, but I read this and love it and just keep thinking about it.

Last book you enjoyed:

I enjoyed rereading Boyfriend Material to get ready for the release of Husband Material. I think I liked it better this time than the first time. 

Last book I hated reading:

I didn't hate it, but I rolled my eyes a lot through Dangerous Alliance: An Austentacious Romance  by Jennieke Cohen. It seemed every chapter had this same sentence, "She bit her lip." Although occasionally she bit the inside of her cheek. But I kept reading anyway and tried to figure out what made the phrase so jarring and how this author could have rephrased it to be less repetitive.

Favorite thing to cook/bake:

I love cooking and baking. Right now I'm learning a lot about vegetarian cooking. One major difference is that you need a lot more spice and aromatics to make up for the loss of meat flavour. My spice cabinet is getting more interesting.

Favorite craft to do in free time:

I doodle. All the time and everywhere. Pencil and pen doodles cover the margins of my notebooks and bills and any scrap paper. As a hobby, I like painting. I'm handy with most types of crafts. And when the temperature drops I like to have a knitting project to keep my hands busy. 

Most niche dislikes:

Blerg. I must have some. I'm sure I thought of one. What was it? 

Is it niche to get mad at people who are not celiacs and want to cut bread out because someone told them that it will solve every health problem? Bread is glorious. I'll never let you say mean words about my good friend, bread.

Opinion on circuses, now and in history:

If I'm going to spend my money, it's not going to be on a circus. I'd rather go to see live music, or watch a play or musical. I'd enjoy a drag show or maybe burlesque. I'd even take the opera or ballet before the circus.

Circuses in history have been abusive to animals. Who's going to have a positive opinion about that?

Do you have a sense of direction, and if not what is the worst way you’ve gotten lost: 

I've got a fairly good sense of direction. I like maps, but not so much GPS. If I use GPS directions then my brain stops making a mental map. I've gotten lost mostly because I tire of taking the same route and will mix things up at random.

Most of the time I enjoy getting lost, so I had to really think of a worst time. Okay, once I was driving to my aunt's cottage and everyone else in the car was sleeping so I decided to get off the highway and take a scenic route. I got hopelessly lost and was out of cell range. I made it there more than an hour late and tired and frazzled while the other car occupants were refreshed and ready to go. Ugh. 

Tagging in some creative folks: @stardustasincocaine @ic3-que3n @takitalks @nick-eyre @cynopoe @stillmadaboutpetra @urban-sith

#about me #any new ear worm suggestions are welcome

[duckprintspress]

Contributor Spotlights: Rebekah D. Cook and Nina Waters

Welcome to She Wears the Midnight Crown and He Bears the Cape of Stars, two brand-new anthologies that share a common theme – masquerades – but tell different types of stories – wlw in She Wears the Midnight Crown and mlm in He Bears the Cape of Stars. These collections are the latest titles from Duck Prints Press, the indie publisher founded by fans to publish original works by fan creators, and they’re crowdfunding NOW, only on Seed & Spark!

Curious about the collections? Well, here’s a sneak peek of the works of two of our creators!

She Wears the Midnight Crown Contributor Spotlight: Rebekah D. Cook

Biography: Rebekah D. Cook is an author of queer romance and speculative fiction living in the Pacific Northwest with her spouse and two dogs. She is sad to report that she has not yet mysteriously disappeared nor encountered any cryptids. Her hobbies include spoiling the aforementioned dogs, drinking inadvisable amounts of coffee, and running unreasonably long distances very slowly. She’s secretly just a collection of loosely-related stories dressed up in a meat suit.

Links: Personal Website | Tumblr | Twitter

Story Title: Nice Girls Don’t Get the Superweapon

Teaser:

Ever since it became clear Mia’s negligible fire starting power wasn’t enough for her to make a go of it as a supervillain, Mia’s dream has been to become a top-tier henchwoman. It’s practically the family business, and anyway, sometimes a girl just wants to be the one setting off the explosions instead of watching them happen.

“Morning, Miller.” The greeting is punctuated by a sharp and wholly unnecessary knock on Mia’s desk.

Mia gives Brandon Pratt her most withering look. The man is epitome of corporate nonsense: all flash and smarm with no substance underneath. He’s also barely competent at his job and somehow manages to come in egregiously late any morning Doctor Bombardier isn’t in the office. Mia doesn’t understand why he hasn’t been fired yet.

“Barely,” Mia says with a pointed look at the clock.

“Lighten up,” Brandon says with a laugh straight out of a Hollywood satire of corporate corruption. “It’s Friday. Working hard or hardly working, eh?”

He shoots her a pair of finger guns before heading toward his office, and Mia valiantly refrains from setting his tie on fire.

He Bears the Cape of Stars Contributor Spotlight: Nina Waters

Biography: Claire Houck (she/they/he), pen name Nina Waters, fandom name unforth, is the founder and sole proprietor of Duck Prints Press LLC. She is queer, 39 years old, married to the lovely Lisa, and a mother of two. Claire has been writing fanfiction since the young age of seven, when she penned (well, two-finger typed and printed dot matrix) the timeless classic “the story of my littl ponies and the glob.” Since then, her spelling, grammar, and prose have improved immensely. She has written over three hundred short stories, a number of novellas, and 16 novels—some original, some fanfiction—including A Glimmer of Hope, which was successfully Kickstarted and self-published in fall, 2016. Before she became a full-time writer, Claire had a career as a professional grant writer and program evaluator, providing consultation services for the New York City Department of Education and other non-profit education organizations.

Links: Archive of Our Own | Tumblr | Twitter

Story Title: To Sing a Song of Many

Teaser:

The agora bustled with the usual business of the day. A hawker offered what they claimed were freshly gathered mushrooms. A Priest promised that the penis charms they’d blessed were especially effective at warding off evil. A Hero struck a noble pose, as if she were cast from marble instead of merely flesh clothed in bronze and linen, while beside her the two members of her Chorus sang her story. Perhaps, if she adventured long enough and successfully enough, she’d be captured in marble in truth, as the once-King Azan was in the marketplace’s center; an artist sprawled at the sculpture’s feet to refresh the bright, gilded paint of his sandals. A melee of colors, sounds, smells, and movements could have captivated, begged to captivate, but Himeros couldn’t spare them the attention he longed to, because he had bigger concerns.

How on Gaia was he going to pass through the crowd to reach the other side of the town’s center without being accosted?

Behind Himeros, his Chorus shifted impatiently. All right, no, in their defense, the four men were actually calm, patient, along for Himeros’s quest  as observers and recorders and criers. It was Himeros’s jitteriness that made their normal weight-shifting, robe-swaying, and mask-adjusting seem loaded and imminent.

Truly, what was Himeros going to do?

*

Intrigued? You should be! But, if you want to read the rest of these stories you’ll need to back our campaign, running now through July 14th, 2022!

Only Days Left to Back – Read Our Campaign Now!

#duck prints press #crowdfunding #queer fiction #queer anthology

[lpfreakification]

Summer Plans, Summer Plans, Summer Plans, Plans, Plan(t)z... I quit :P Ok! 🤪

These past 3 days of nothing is actually working out? I'm getting energy back again. Using that energy wisely is the hard part 🤔 As I regain it, I end up wandering around the house, with some pacing too.

The main thing I really want to do b4 anything else is get a haircut 😭 Look at the difference! (This was back in 2021)

I look + feel so much better about myself with my hair chopped off. I had to grow it out because of my sister's wedding in 2022.

And now my brother is gonna get married exactly one year from now, June 15th 2024.

My hair tends to grow fast XP

Anyway, back to summer plans. I'd like to make sure I'm physically well enough to do kickboxing again. These last two months of sitting on my butt + animating can't be good for me in the long run. Unless I put in the time for some physical activity. You know, I hate the work "exercise" bcuz of how often it is associated with going to the gym XP Tried going to the gym b4 the semester but felt monotonous? Despite having a variety of classes, it felt like I wasn't connecting with the atmosphere + I was one of the youngest attendees X( Needless to say, that didn't work out. *facepalm* (agh, whyd I say that?) Perla Punny-pants pummels, paralyzes (Perla-lyzes), plus pounds Perla perfectly perpendicular XP (I like alliterations)

Anyway, doctor. To see if im fit for intense physical activity. If not, then back to wandering around the house or have more spontaneous adventures outside that involves food :P

Once I see how I am physically, then I can conquer my room again. It's mostly piles clean clothes I've been lazy to put away. I'm also thinking about getting more shelves/containers from the Container Store 🤔 With news pen purchases over the past year, I'm bound to need more storage space for my pens, pencils, markers, + watercolor supplies.

Speaking of watercolor, in July, I plan to continue painting Paloma's OC, Peli during the day + play KH: Re: Coded at night (as soon as my room is cleaned up). That'll be a great way to spend the month of July X3 Bonus points for another online movie night X)

I heard that the fam + I are going to see a baseball game in Milwaukee for 4th of July? Im so used to the local town parade we go to every year. Unfortunately, despite it being too peaceful during last year's parade, one town wasn't so lucky :( What I'm hoping to gain from this change of pace this year is making some new memories :)

For the Museum of Sciene + Industry... either somewhere in the middle of July or the middle of August. July 1st + 2nd got a Nascar Street Race in the city. Somewhere towards the end of July/early August is Lollapalooza. The city gets crowded there often. Then again, don't take my word for it bcuz I don't leave my room too often + never been in the city during Lollapalooza. Or have I? I don't remember.

And finally, gonna go see The Offspring, Sum 41, + Simple Plan towards the end of August 😃 That'll be a good way to end the summer :)

Welp, that's what I got rn. I may end up adding a little bit more ideas for summer plans just to fit the page. Let's put these dry-erase markers away + head back upstairs in the heat XP Yep!

#life

[cratlord]

Prince of the Seas - Chapter 3

Pairing: Bucky x Ruby / Some Bucky x Killian

Summary: Things did not get better for Bucky Barnes after he and Sam had their adventure. They got worse. After years of living only through stolen moments of his own life, he is given a chance to build a life in a whole new world. The catch? That life is going to be a very, very long one. This is the tale of the life built in the Realm that will one day be known as Misthaven, or the Enchanted Forest.

Warnings: Depression, Anxiety, suicidal thoughts, violence, Sexual content

Bucky set the shield back down on the floor gently so he could sit freely in the fancy desk chair in his home office.  Loki’s golden envelope was placed carefully to the side, the center of the desk taken up by a fresh sheet of high quality paper and Bucky’s favorite fountain pen.  He took a moment to think, then put nib to paper.

My dearest friend, Thank you for the dinner.  It was excellent.  I am glad my last meal in this world was one I was able to treasure and enjoy.  You and your people have been good friends to me, you especially, and I truly appreciate all the time we have spent together.  I am sorry to say that it has to end.  I saw an opportunity to expose my enemies, and this time, I took it.  When they inevitably push the button, it will only add nails to their coffins. I hope you find endless happiness and a life filled with all the love I never found.  I hope your family knows no sorrow and your enemies learn true remorse.  I hope Asguard becomes stronger than it has ever been, and can lead the peoples of the Nine Realms to new heights of prosperity and peace.  I hope you remember me.  Not the Avenger.  Not the assassin.  Your friend. I am wearing the armor you made me.  It feels good.  I am glad that I have only ever worn it as a free man. Bucky

He read it through several times before deeming it good enough.  He wasn’t sure how much longer he had, so good enough would have to do.  He blew on the ink to dry it a bit faster, then carefully folded the paper and slid it into the envelope.  He could spend an eternity trying to say goodbye to Loki, but it wouldn’t mean much in the end.  He knew from the beginning that their relationship would end the same way it started, the same way it had always been.  With him wanting more, Loki knowing he did, and both of them just tactfully avoiding the subject.

A tear slid down his face.  He was almost surprised he still had the ability to shed one after all these years.  It was probably better this way.  At least this way, he wasn’t a burden on his friend anymore.  

He took a deep breath and snapped the seal closed. With a soft flash, the letter was gone, sent across the galaxy to Loki’s matching envelope.  He would probably read it when he returned to his quarters after forgetting dinner and ordering something be brought there.  Loki often did that sort of thing when he got on a research binge.  He’d forget dinner, then get hangry, then stomp about like it was everyone else’s fault.  The next morning he would show up at breakfast looking sheepish and apologizing for being waspish with people.  Bucky chuckled wetly at the thought.  

He stood up from the desk, grabbing the shield to put back on his back, and made his way back downstairs to his living room.  It was a comfortable space, not very large but it suited his needs just fine.  It wasn’t like he was ever allowed to have visitors anyways.

There was a simple brown leather sofa with an ottoman shaped like a big turtle.  There were a couple of bookshelves against a wall, and pictures covering much of the rest of the dark green he’d painted the room.  The green really brought out the dark wood trim, as well as the ornately carved mantle.  He was particularly proud of the mantle, considering he’d carved it himself.  It was shaped like a pair of art deco pillars holding up a slab, but it was all covered in ivy.  It had turned out beautifully.  Loki was the only person who’d ever seen it, and he had been very impressed.  

There were other little carved baubles around the room.  It had taken him a bit after he escaped Hydra to hone his skills again, but by now he was far better than he had ever been before the war.  Nearly every piece of furniture in his house was built by him.  He’d lived long enough by this point that any hobby was a good hobby, and carpentry was one of the few he’d had before his life turned to shit.  Even now, looking at the table by his sofa, the tasteful art deco lamp sitting on it, he regretted having put off building a matching one for the other side.  

He sat down and propped his feet up on his turt.  He pursed his lips and stared down at the little lump under his boot around his ankle.  The house was silent, though he could hear the noises of his suburb shuffling about outside.  A cricket started chirping in his back yard.  He could hear his neighbors he shared a south wall with fucking again.  

He shifted uncomfortably.  His enhanced senses were a real burden sometimes.  He was so sex deprived at this point, even listening to them get it on was affecting him.  They weren’t even attractive, but they fucked like rabbits every chance they got.  They had to spend a fortune on lube to keep from chafing.  He huffed, knowing the thought of lube costs definitely only crossed his mind because he was insanely jealous.  He would give anything to have the kind of life where he would even have the option to find someone to share his bed with.  

“Do you mean that?” a bell like voice said crisply behind him.  The accent was posh, but more in a dignified way than a pretentious way.  All soft sounds being very well articulated.  

He put his feet down and sat up before slowly turning to see the woman standing in the doorway to the hall.  She was tall and slender, her willowy limbs just a hair longer than looked natural, with her nearly too big eyes boring into him in their peculiar way he knew common to her kind.  Even the low lighting of his lamp was enough to set her golden hair sparkling, adding to the atmosphere as much as the scent of fresh flowers did everywhere she went.  She pulled her lips back in a mockery of a human smile, showing her sharp, but perfectly symmetrical and white, teeth.  She was beautiful, much like a tiger or a supernova.

He stood respectfully before the Summer Queen and bowed deeply.  “Your Majesty, it is a pleasure to see you.”  As he rose up, he felt the stifling blanket of her power settle over the room, silencing everything.  Three times he had met this woman now, and both previous times she had somehow stopped time while they spoke.  He assumed that was what she was doing now.  

Knowing she expected answers, he carefully considered what he had been thinking when she had asked her question.  He took his time, considering in the past she had cared more about absolute honesty than timeliness.  She was immortal and very old, so she didn’t mind a couple extra minutes of deep thought.  “There is a line to what I would give for my own freedom,” he began carefully, knowing by now how the fey worked.  Those had all been hard lessons.  The fey weren’t evil, they simply had their own morality, and in their society they had balance, at all costs.  They took some getting used to.  “I would give much, but only that which would be within my right to give, or to take.”  

She nodded slowly, her smile fading into a much more authentic look of curiosity.  This was how the high fey showed they enjoyed things.  He relaxed marginally, knowing his answer had pleased the Queen.  Titania was known to be the most generous, and the most brutal of the fey court, and which side of her you got usually depended on how you answered her questions.  Bucky waited patiently while she entered the room and circled him slowly, using the magic woven into every facet of her being to observe more in him than mortal eyes could ever comprehend.  

After several minutes, she stopped directly in front of him, her eyes level with his own.  “You have but minutes left, and I would offer you a deal.  Would you hear my terms?”

He kept his voice low, just quieter than her own tone, as was proper in her society.  “I would hear them.”  

Her head tilted slightly as she leaned even closer to him, her breath a sweet perfume which nearly made him light headed.  He forced himself to focus on her words and body language.  Every detail was important in these sort of exchanges.  

“I would offer you a new life.  A portal into another world.  A world of magic.  Though you may take no physical possessions with you, you would take all of the gifts of your soul.”  She paused as she put her hand on his chest just over his heart, letting him think about her words for moment and observing.  When she spoke again, it was even softer.  “In exchange, I would take your seed.”

His eyes blew open.  Out of all the things she could have asked for, that was the furthest from anything he expected.  

She took a step back and looked him over slowly, taking in his physical form.  “You are surprised, but perhaps you shouldn’t be.  You are a Guardian, Champion of Earth, a literal god born of men.  Your nobility is known throughout the realms, as is your strength.  You are the greatest warrior born of this species.  Additionally, you are pleasing to my eye.  My husband can no longer conceive a child, and after millenia of discussion, we have decided that only you are worthy to sire the next of my line.  It is but an added benefit that it would also be the first of yours.”

He forced himself to keep his breathing even, even as his mind raced.  The fey never lied, and she had just heaped a lot on him in that very complementative statement.  What she wanted was a life for a life, both fresh and naked, but otherwise equal.  He bit his lip as he observed her.  He knew she wouldn’t rush him, she never had before.  She wanted to have his kid.  His child.  After all these years of telling people the fey weren’t anything like fairytale stereotypes, the irony of her asking for his firstborn was not lost on him.  

His stomach dropped.  His firstborn.  All these years, about two centuries worth, and he still hadn’t had a family, despite that being the thing he wanted most in his youth.  Now, he honestly couldn’t say he wasn’t tempted by her offer.  She’d asked for his seed, not sex, so this was basically more like being a sperm donor than being a father.  He would never meet the kid.  He’d be off in some other world entirely by the time Titania was even pregnant.  

Titania was also a queen, and a particularly powerful one at that.  She would have the ability to take care of any child she had, and the wisdom to make sure they grew into a good person.  Any child raised a prince or princess of the Seelie Court would never end up having the life he did.  No fey would consent to allowing a single fey to become a slave.  To top it off, she had even specifically said the child would be acknowledged as his bloodline.  So many years protecting this world, it was a nice thought that someday there would be people in it who may actually be proud to have come from his line.  It was an odd thought, one he hadn’t allowed himself to indulge in in a very long time, but it did fill him with warmth, even if he knew he wouldn’t be around to see it.

Titania’s eyes softened as she invaded his space again, picking up his flesh hand and holding it in both her own.  “Your child will know of your life.  All of it.  And they will be proud to have been the price of your freedom.  To be the price for the life of a god will be a great honor.”

He looked down at her hands holding his own.  Her thin boned fingers were soft and warm against his skin, and he could imagine those hands holding their kid, telling them stories of his various exploits.  He wondered briefly which one would be their favorite.  Maybe the time war, or his dubious escape from Hydra?  

He looked up at the Queen’s eyes and very clearly spoke his answer.  “I accept your terms.”  He moved his metal hand to grasp hers so their hands were a tangled mess between them.  “In my bedroom upstairs, under my bed there are boxes of journals.  I’ve been keeping them since 2014.  If I can’t ever know my first child, then maybe they’ll let the kid know me.”

Titania nodded her head slowly to show she understood.  

They released each others hands and both stood back.  The queen waived her hand and a little pot appeared with a lid.  She arched a brow at him, her bright green eyes sparkling in mirth.  “I trust I do not have to explain this part?”  she stepped close to him, lifting her dainty hand to rub her knuckles lightly down his cheek.  “The way you have been living lately, I do not anticipate it will take long.”  She smirked as she dropped the pot in his hand and sauntered out of the room, leaving him alone.  

He hated that she was right.  Even just a brush against his cheek from a beautiful woman had put a literal shiver in his spine.  His leathers were uncomfortably tight in certain places.  He knew she could hear him still.  She had really only left the room as a courtesy.  She knew exactly what he was doing.  

It was kind of hot.  

It had been over 60 years since he had lost all socialization privileges.  For over 60 years now he had not been allowed to be unsupervised with any other individual.  In some ways, his more recent masters held an even tighter leash than his Hydra masters had.  Now, even though he knew logically that he wasn’t getting any, just knowing that he was alone in his house with a stunning woman was enough to get the blood flowing south.  He unbuttoned the double breasted leather over his chest, revealing the high buttons beneath on the pants.  Leaving the chest to hang open, he slipped his hands down and undid the buttons, taking his time.  Every button undone released a little of the pressure against his straining erection until finally he hit the bottom and pulled the pants and boxers down enough to free himself, breathing a sigh of relief.  

He planted his feet in the exact location she had left him as he took his throbbing cock in his own hand and began to pump it slowly.  Titania had been right.  This wouldn’t take long.  And if she knew that, then that meant she could see his sexual history.  Which meant she had looked.  

His hand pumped faster, paying careful attention to the tip, giving it just a slight little twist the way he liked.  He imagined her watching as he fucked his own hand.  The thought alone had his hip thrusting forward involuntarily.  He let out a low groan, his eyes fluttering a bit as the pressure built up in his lower abdomen.  He was getting close already.  

He let his mind wander to earlier that day, when he had kissed the prosecutor.  He hadn’t planned to do that, but fuck if it wasn’t nice.  She’d tasted like chocolate.  Probably a guilty pleasure when she was stressed.  The feeling of her breasts crushed against him, the shifting of her hips against his as he had plundered her mouth.  God, her little moan as he had pulled her hair.  That’s what did it.  

Even as the pleasure flowed through him, he was mindful enough to make sure to catch all of his leavings in the little vessel Titania had given him.  He stood still for a second, coming down from the short lived high, then proceeded forth as if this were any other business deal.  He secured the lid first, safely setting the little cup aside as he tucked himself back into his pants and began to do up the buttons.  

He was on his last pants button when Titania breezed back in the room.  “I do thank you for your efficiency.”  She picked up the vessel and waved her hand over it.  A shower of golden sparks hit the top and the lid and jar fused together, sealing the contents safely.  She waved her hand and it disappeared, probably to a freezer somewhere.  Her eyes flicked back up to meet his.  “You have kept your end of our deal, and now it is my turn.  Just a bit of advice, for your new home,” she began sternly, putting her arms on her hips.  

He didn’t bother buttoning his vest back up and instead gave her his full attention.

“The realm you will be going to is very different from this one.  While there will be recognizable elements, almost everything you know will be wrong there.  It is a land of magic, not science.  The laws of quantum physics are fundamentally different.  The planet’s cycles are powered by different mechanisms, and magic flows through every facet of that reality.  As such, it may take some time before your body adjusts to the transition.  You will come into your full power in time, but keep an open mind and it will go a lot faster.”  

Bucky nodded politely.  “Yes, your majesty.”  

She nodded, satisfied with his answer.  “Then, if you are ready, I shall open a portal for you.  Once you go through, you will never be able to return.  You will never see or speak to anyone from this world ever again.  Are you ready?”

James swallowed.  His mind briefly flickered to Loki, but he firmly pushed the thought away.  With him gone, Loki would finally be free to go back to his people, maybe even reunite the Jotun as he had daydreamed about.  All Bucky was doing here was holding the prince back.  

He took a deep breath, taking in the smells of his home for possibly the last time.  The worn leather, the old books, and the light hint of citrus from the treatment for his wood floors.  It was comforting, but his new world would have new things to bring him comfort.  And for the first time in a very long time, he would have the ability to choose what place he could seek comfort in.  

He turned a smile to the queen, hope stirring in his chest for the first time since he could remember.  “I’m ready.”  

She turned to face the center of the room in between his couch and the fire place and waved her hand in a circle.  Golden sparks fell from her fingers.  The sparks fell randomly at first, though picking up in density, before they were falling in more of a sparkling curtain.  She kept swirling her hand, and the shower turned into a sort of sparkling cloudy spiral.  It hit the floor, and the floor started to melt down, dripping into a pitch black abyss with only the light of Titania’s magic showing within.  She kept her focus on her spell, an intensity in her eyes telling Bucky this spell was quite a bit more taxing than she typically cast.

“You simply have to step into the portal, and our deal will be complete,” she said, her voice terse.  

He stepped forward, pausing only long enough to utter the word “Goodbye.”

And so James Buchanan Barnes left Earth for lands unknown, leaving everything behind.  In a single tick of the clock, a thick metal ankle bracelet fell to the floor of the empty room.  The sound bounced off the blank walls, echoing loudly enough in the bare house to be heard all the way up the stairs.  Not that there was anyone to hear it.  The townhouse was as empty as the day it was built, with not so much as a speck of dust left behind of the man who once resided there.  Nothing but a metal band with a little blinking red light.  The light blinked three times.  The next blink heralded the end of nearly three million people, wiping all evidence of the disappearance of James Barnes from the face of the Earth.

Next Chapter

Chapter Index

#bucky deserves a hug #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #once upon a time fanfiction #not cannon compliant

[eder-delin]

@princecharmingtobe !!! i hopei did them justice!! i know i said id draw them like, half a year ago, and i did! but i never got around to actually coloring anything and it didnt feel good enough for me.

bonus:

i liked your idea to have them style their cheek fur depending on what gender they feel like presenting as, so i drew them doing that as well.

#please dont mind my mediocre hand drawing and painting skills lol #also i wanted to put some white highlights in their fur but my white gel pens are all dry and the white acrylic paint fell apart #and the eyes and nose are actually shiny! you cant see it in the scan but i put nail polish on them like an idiot #after some adventures with the masking fluid.. anyway doesnt matter #x

[mhysa-leesi]

му вℓσσ∂у ναℓєηтιηє

{Gif Source} {Gif Source 2}

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers 𝒳 (femme) Reader 🩸.

Summary: "Steve Rogers is madly in love with you and he'll do anything for you to see that--no matter who gets in his way."

Word Count: 4,765 (Sorry, this is a long one!)

TW‼: Non-Con, Smut, Stalking, Yandere Themes, Murder (Description of Side-Character Death), Blood, Description of Gore, and Strong Language. 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI‼

AN: This story contains adult and dark themes, please do not proceed if you are under the age of 18 or if ANY of these warnings upset you! I am not responsible for your media consumption–you and only you are. Also, I used one of the prompts from (@the-modern-typewriter) to describe a character's death, ALL CREDIT GOES TO THEM. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊.

AN Cont.: If you or anyone you know has been a victim of sexual violence, please reach out for help. I do not condone ANY of the actions described in this story, this is merely a work of FICTION.

The first love letter was delivered on a gloomy Friday afternoon. The clouds above the city were dark and full of frigid torrents of rainfall. Gold and scarlet autumn leaves whispered against the chilly winds as acorns scattered about; rolling and cracking underfoot as you made your everyday walk to work. You had chosen to stray from your usual route that day, deciding on a new corner coffee shop instead of your normal stop.

You remembered that day clearly, as if it had happened just yesterday. The new coffee shop was a small, hole in the wall with plastic vines of ivy and fairylights rimming the framework of the inside. You ordered rich and dark coffees, with creamy oat milk for you and your coworkers, and an apple pecan oatmeal cookie for yourself.

Your workday was seemingly the same as any other. Pam was gossiping with Susan, and Scott was hiding from Mark, your manager, in the breakroom. You remember you were seated at your cubicle when things turned, staring at the rain against the window, and tapping your pen against your notepad, when you were startled by the mail carrier. He handed you a single, pink envelope with a heart stamp on its flap and left with a mumbled “you’re welcome”. You frowned as there was no return address or other name besides yours. You had opened it anyway.

You remembered how your frown had deepened as your stomach dropped. The paper trembled in your hands as you stared at the small heart sketched at the bottom. You frantically looked around the office for any sign of a joke, hoping to see one of your coworkers giggling at your shocked reaction. But everyone had their noses deep into their screens, typing away at their work. You turned the letter over, looking for a name or a clue as to who had sent it. But it was blank.

And you remembered how you had crumpled up the letter and tossed it as you refocused and finished the rest of that workday.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Weeks passed before you got another mysterious love letter delivered to your desk, a small bouquet of roses and baby’s-breath with it. And again, you crumpled it up and threw it away; leaving the flowers in the breakroom. You had made a mental note that day to talk to the mailman about the delivery of these letters.

For a time they stopped and you thought you were out of the woods or thought your secret admirer had lost interest at the very least. But you were wrong. Your third envelope had been waiting for you in your mailbox when you had gotten home from work one Monday evening. You didn’t bother opening it as you sent it straight to the garbage.

You were growing paranoid and antsy as you constantly looked over your shoulder. You’d freeze every time you came across an envelope, even if it was just your monthly rent notice or bank statement. You had refused to live like this, in a constant state of anxiety and fear, so, that’s how you found yourself moving into a new apartment across town.

You were met with months of peace, you were finally readjusting to life before the letters. You had even moved in with someone you had been seeing from your new job, Chris. He was perfect, someone straight from a romance novel; tall, dark, and handsome, with a taste for adventure and romance. You were happy with him--you were in love and had long since decided that if Chris were to ask you to marry him, you’d say yes in a heartbeat.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Today was your anniversary with Chris, and the two of you had an entire evening planned. Dinner at your favorite restaurant, a surprise showing of your favorite movie at the corner cinema, and then home, where you’d give him his gift. A red lacy lingerie set with fuzzy handcuffs, and a silk blindfold to match.

Your heart skipped and your stomach alighted with butterflies as you touched up your makeup in the bathroom mirror. The evening had been absolutely perfect and it was about to get even better. You stepped out into the bedroom, dressed in nothing but red lace and a bathrobe. A spritz of perfume here and a mint there, and you were ready to go surprise your man.

You walked out into the living room and seductively leaned against the wall, watching as he poured two glasses of red wine. He turned and froze, swallowing hard as he abandoned the drinks on the kitchen counter. You smirked as he pulled you to him by your hips, instantly locking his lips to yours. He looked down at you through his eyelashes, his deep brown eyes darkened with lust, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to your lips once more.

Your eyes closed and moaned as he peppered kisses along the curve of your neck, tilting your head back to give him better access. His hands roamed your body hotly, squeezing and caressing your dips and curves. Chris entangled his hands in your hair as he moved you to the counter, lifting you up as if you weighed nothing. He pushed your robe down your shoulders to reveal the red lace hidden underneath, and with a groan, he bent to trace the rosette lacework that covered your breasts with his tongue. You hummed and wrapped your legs around his waist, your hands running down his back to toy with the bottom hem.

Chris gently pushed you down to an angle as he kissed down your body, stopping just below your navel to wink up at you. You bit back a laugh as you wiggled your hips impatiently as you leaned back on your hands. With your fingers splayed against the wooden countertop, your touch met something smooth and waxy--like the waxy seal of an envelope. You reached behind you and grabbed a pink envelope, with a wax stamp of a heart on its flap. Your heart seemed to stop as you stared at the envelope in your hands.

You vaguely felt Chris’s lips on your inner thighs, kissing and nipping at your skin. When he heard no reaction from you, he looked up, his brows furrowed and eyes full of questions.

“What’s that?” he asked, “You wrote me a love letter, too?” he winked as he reached for it.

You jerked it away from his grasp, your heart hammering in your chest as you ripped open the flap; ripping the waxy heart in half.

P.S. You should really lock your windows, doll. You jumped off the counter and ran to the windows, each one was locked--except for one. You locked it and double-checked its strength, fighting against the lock as you tried to open it.

“Babe? (Y/N),” Chris said sternly, snapping you out of your trance.

You looked at him now. You didn’t know what to say, you couldn’t think of how to form the words. You wanted to say everything was fine and okay, but it wasn’t--it was far from it. Whoever had been writing and sending you these knew where you lived now, and that scared you. After months of trying so hard to move on from this, you felt as if you were right back at square one again.

The rest of the night was unclear to you. You moved like a zombie, your brain on autopilot as you crawled into bed to hide under the covers until the morning sun rose. Chris asked questions, of course. But you had no answers for him. You had no idea who had been writing them and had absolutely no clue how they had found you again.

Chris had suggested going to the police, but what could they do? No one had physically harassed you, and although creepy, the letters weren’t threatening. And not to mention, you had thrown away most of your evidence. You were at a loss. Chris was supportive, always there to comfort you during the night when you were restless, but that never kept you from feeling alone.

Your paranoia increased tenfold by the end of that week. You changed your daily routine every few days, hoping that’d throw your stalker off your trail, but it never did. They always seemed ten steps ahead of you, whereas you struggled to even think to keep up with them. Your breaking point was reached on Sunday evening as you met with one of your old friends from high school for breakfast-dinner--an old tradition you two had decided to revive for the night.

Things were going good, and you even dared to forget about your own issues as you cut into your syrup-soaked pancakes. Madison was telling you about her newest fling and how good he was in the sack, and you genuinely found yourself happy to listen to the vulgar details. After painting you a vivid picture of her sex life, Madison excused herself to the restroom; leaving you alone with your pancakes and empty cup of iced coffee.

You saw a head of electric blue hair and you perked up. Your waitress came with a smile and handed you a paper cup of steaming coffee and a single napkin.

“Oh, I didn’t order this,” you said with a polite smile.

“A gentleman ordered this for you,” she winked before walking away.

You frowned as you looked at the writing on the napkin. Refusing to even acknowledge the cup of coffee in front of you.

Your mouth went dry as you stared at the familiar handwriting. Brown dress, he knew what you were wearing--he was here. You shot to your feet, the chair scraping loudly against the floor, as you looked around frantically, ignoring all of the judgemental looks and hushed whispers you were getting.

“You okay, (Y/N)?” asked Madison, her brows knitted in concern.

“Yeah,” you lied, “I just… I’m sorry, but I have to go. I’ll call you later, Mads.”

You dug through your wallet and gave a twenty to your waitress on your way out, only stopping to yell over your shoulder for her to keep the change. You practically ran home from the restaurant as your anxiety started to settle in your bones, making you heavy with unease. You called Chris, but were only met with his voicemail. The elevator ride up to your floor was tortuous as you watched the floor numbers slowly light up one by one until finally, they stopped at your floor. You panted as you slammed the door shut behind you, sliding the lock and chain in place as you dropped your head to rest against the wooden frame.

You sniffled as the words from his letter were seared into your eyelids. You just wanted him to leave you alone, you didn’t know what you did to catch his eye, and worst of all, you didn’t know how to make it stop. You choked on your hiccupped breaths as tears streaked down your cheeks. When you finally calmed down you switched on the lights and finally turned around…

You stared at Chris in horror. Blood drenched the entire living room, his corpse sat limp in a chair like a broken, bloody doll. His throat and wrists had been slashed. You tried to hold your hand over the open wounds as you screamed for help, but no matter the pressure you applied, the blood still gushed and seeped through your fingers, oozing down your arm, and dripping from your elbow. The gore of it all brought waves of nausea that went beyond physical retching, the sickness you felt was indescribable. But the smell, the smell was something much worse. Metallic, iron, copper… Your ears started to ring. You couldn’t hear, couldn’t breathe. You could only stare at the bloodstain on your hands and scream.

You left that following weekend, abandoning the big city to move back in with your parents and younger sister. You spent most of your days locked in your room, hiding from the world under the comfort of your blanket and drawn curtains. Days turned to weeks, and weeks to months. You’d look at yourself in the mirror and cry as you no longer recognized yourself as the woman you once were. You knew it was time to move on, but you couldn’t, not when you’d see Chris’s bloodied body every time you’d close your eyes.

You started small by taking baby steps toward your recovery. It started with family meals, then a cashier job at your local supermarket, shopping trips with your mother and sister. Then you eventually graduated to therapy, where you’d stare at a forest green ceiling as you reclined on the chaise longue. Therapy helped and it was admittedly one of the better moments of your monotonous days, you felt heard, seen, as you walked through your own thoughts and nightmares. Your appointments even inspired you to reach out to Chris’s parents for closure, to go with them to visit their son’s grave. It was bittersweet, leaving behind a bouquet of roses for the man you had loved so deeply instead of a kiss goodbye; but it was something you knew you’d have to come to terms with. It wasn’t your fault, that was the mantra you’d tell yourself when you’d catch glimpses of his blood on your hands.

Before you knew it a year had passed since the incident, and in that year, you had not received one letter. You had made a resolution for the first time that New Year’s Eve as you waited for the midnight ball to drop. You told yourself you’d forget, to start fresh, and become an even better version of yourself. You were a flower that was fighting against all odds to blossom.

You cut your hair, got bangs and highlights. Saved up for a brand new, off-the-lot car. And moved into a cozy apartment with your sister. Things were looking up for you and you truly believed that you had finally found your way out of the woods. But life had a habit of playing cruel tricks on those who were naive enough to believe such a thing.

It was mid-February, just a few days before Valentine’s Day, when things started to go to shit. You had just come back from the gym with your sister when you saw it. A pink envelope with no return address or any other name besides yours, with a wax seal in the shape of a heart on the back flap, sat on your pillow. It felt like it weighed a thousand pounds as you held it in your hands. You debated on throwing it away, on pretending you never received it. But you wanted to know what more this twisted bastard could have to say. You ripped it open and read.

You didn’t hesitate as you ripped the letter to shreds, throwing the pieces into the garbage with an angry grunt. Delusional piece of deranged shit, you thought. You raked through your brain for the millionth time since your first letter, trying to figure out who the fuck could possibly be the sender, but you came to the same conclusion you had been coming to for years--nothing. It was agonizing, not knowing who your torturer was. It was your shadow, how could you not know who was living in it? But, no matter how hard you thought, you kept drawing blank after blank.

Your sister comforted you with a glass of wine and dumplings from the takeout place up the street. She was going out tonight, but offered to stay home with you instead.

“No,” you shooed, “I’ll be fine, I’m a big girl.”

“You sure?” she frowned, “It’s no big deal, Girls Night is every Friday night, I can always go next week.”

“I’m fine. Go and have fun for the both of us,” you said as you waved her away.

She left a few minutes later, dressed in heels and a short skirt. You ate the rest of the dumplings and finished the bottle of wine before calling it a night. You undressed down to your underwear and threw on an oversized t-shirt and plopped down onto the bed with an unceremonious bounce. The wine coursing through your system made it easier than usual to fall asleep, and the next thing you knew, you were in a deep sleep, dreaming of a life with Chris--of a life without the letters. It was one of those good dreams you wished you’d never wake from.

Which was why you were so annoyed when a loud noise startled you awake. You looked at your phone and the time read “1:00 AM”, you frowned, it was too early for your sister to be back already. You padded along the hallway, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you called out for her, worried she might’ve passed out drunk on the floor or something. You stopped as you reached the front room--the very empty front room. Your heart started to pound as you stood frozen, staring at the empty room before you. A shuffling from behind caught your attention, then. And against your better instincts, you turned around slowly to see a shadowed silhouette of a man standing at the end of the hallway.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, just staring dumbstruck at the man. With every step he took toward you, you took one back. Inching closer and closer to the front door with every backward step.

“Doll, don’t,” he warned, his voice striking you with fear like a bolt of lightning.

Without a second thought, you ran toward the door, fumbling stupidly with the locks in your panicked state of mind. The man was on you in a flash, easily dragging you away from your pathetic attempt at escape. His arms slithered around you like snakes, their hold constricting as he locked an arm firmly around your neck, silencing your screams as you struggled to breathe. You slapped and clawed at his forearm as he pulled you back to your bedroom.

“Please be a good girl for me, (Y/N). I don’t want to hurt you, baby,” he said against your hair.

With his arm still wrapped around your neck, he threw you down onto the bed, quickly straddling you before you could scramble to your feet. He pinned your arms above your head with one hand and forced you to look at him with the other. His face was illuminated by the moonlight. The silver shine highlighting his familiar eyes through the holes of his helmet. You froze as he pulled off his blue cowl.

You were beyond confused, to say the least. You stared up at Captain America, your brain working overtime to try and put the puzzle pieces together. What was Captain America doing in your apartment? And why had he called you “baby”? What the fuck was going on? Were you lucid dreaming? You must’ve looked as confused as you felt because he smiled down at you, gently promising you answers to the questions that you hadn’t yet asked.

“You’re even more beautiful up-close, doll,” he said as he brushed away hairs that fell in your face from your struggle.

Your eyes widened. Doll. The nickname sent chills down your spine as the word flashed against the pink color of the envelopes, against the red of spilled blood.

“You…”

He ran a finger down your cheek and nodded, “Me.”

You paled under him, your bottom lip trembling as you shook your head in disbelief. He frowned and hushed you, caressing your cheek and wiping away the tears that fell.

“Shh… Don’t cry, baby,” he cooed, “I’ll take good care of you, you don’t need to cry.”

“W–Why?” you hiccupped through your sobs, “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you, (Y/N),” your stomach dropped as he answered you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You shook your head, “No. No! You’re Captain America. You’re supposed to be a hero!”

You fought against his grip, flailing and kicking wildly as you tried in vain to get away from him. You trashed against him, kicking against his thighs with all of your strength, but it was nothing to him--nothing but an annoying inconvenience.

“Stop,” he said, his jaw ticking with simmering anger.

But you refused to stop. You whined and fought against him.

“Stop,” he repeated, his anger coming to a rolling boil.

You shot up and headbutted him. He reeled back and glowered down at you, his jaw clenched and nostrils flared.

“I said stop,” he shouted as he finally stilled you with a sharp slap.

The sound was as sharp as the feel of it. You sobbed as the pain stung your skin, the right side of your face becoming numb from the harsh impact of it.

“Why are you doing this, Steve?” you asked again.

“Because I love you,” he answered again, “I know you love me, too, (Y/N).”

“No,” you exclaimed, “I don’t love you! I don’t love you! I don’t love you!” you sobbed.

“You will,” Something seemed to change within his eyes. No longer were there hints of green in his blue eyes, but something much darker… Something more sinister. You swallowed as you shrunk under his intense glare.

You exclaimed as he forced his lips against yours. Squeezing your jaw until he could slip his tongue into your mouth. You pushed against him, beating on his shoulders as he shoved his tongue further down your throat. He pulled away, breathless and flushed, a ghost of a content smile on his face. You gasped and tried to wiggle away once more, rolling onto your stomach as you did so. A yelp escapes you as you feel him grab your hips, pulling you back under him.

Steve puts his weight on you, trapping you underneath him as he begins to undress you. You try to roll onto your back, but his knee keeps you in place. You fight to keep your shirt on, knowing you wore nothing but your panties underneath it. But you were fighting blind. You kicked up, the heels of your feet hitting the backs of Steve’s strong thighs. He manhandles you easily as he rolls you onto your back, finally ridding you of your cotton shield.

Your hands went to your chest before he could. He pried your arms away, baring your breasts to him with a jerked jiggle. He licked his lips as he cupped and squeezed your breast. You flinched as if his touch had burned you, and in some sense, it had. Your eyes widened in shame as Steve blew on your nipples, the skin hardening into pointed peaks. He brings his lips to them, circling them with his tongue. Sucking, licking, pinching. You press your lips together to keep you from whimpering, and you close your eyes in hopes you can will him away. But your feeble defense attempts don’t last long.

Your eyes snap open as you feel his lips leave your breasts to trail kisses down to your navel, stopping at the band of your underwear.

“Please…” you beg. You bite your lip to keep it from trembling as fresh tears begin to form at the corners of your eyes.

Steve smiles against your skin, “I’m going to make you mine, (Y/N). ‘M gonna make you feel so good, doll.”

You stifle a sob as you feel him slide your panties off past your ankles, his fingers scorching your skin as they explore back up between your thighs. Instinctively, you try to close your legs around his hands. But he doesn’t stop. Steve digs his fingers into the soft skin of your inner thighs as he forcefully spreads you wide. Your pussy on full display to him. You stiffen under his gaze, your face burning with shame as he stares in awe at your spread folds. He runs a finger from your clit to your entrance, dipping knuckle-deep into your channel. Your thighs flex as your body tenses at the intrusion. He adds another and languidly pumps them in and out, curling and scissoring them. You fight against the blossoming heat within your belly. Your shame grows as you hear the squelch of your wetness around his pumping fingers.

Steve presses a firm thumb to your clit and you cry out before you can stop yourself. He pumps his fingers into you harder, faster, as he pulls more moans and cries from your lips. You sob as you feel that coil deep within your belly begin to unravel with every stroke and pump. You fight against your own body as you keep yourself from teetering over the edge of pleasure, refusing to let yourself submit to him. But Steve had other plans for you. Suddenly, before you could register his movements, you felt his tongue against your most intimate area. You mewled and curled your toes as he fucked you with his tongue, his thumb never stopping their firm and fast circles against your clit. You sobbed as your body convulsed with white-hot pleasure, and before you could stop yourself, you came on his tongue with a loud, dragged out moan.

You sniffled as you cried, but whether it was from the intensity of your orgasm or your shame and fear, you didn’t know. The lines were starting to blur for you.

Steve gently kissed around your folds before crawling up over you. He held your face and forced your lips to his once more before he began to undress, leaving the taste of yourself on your tongue as he pulled away with a wet smack. He unclothed himself, then. Stripping himself of his spangled-stars and red and white stripes. He looked down at you with dark, lust-filled eyes, and a breathless quirk of his lips.

You were limp as he folded you to his needs. Bringing your bent and spread knees to your chest as he took himself in his hands. His length stood tall and proud, the tip swollen and leaking down this thick shaft with anticipation. Your legs flinched as they tried to close on their own. You choked on a sob as he wrenched them apart. Your heart hammered in your chest as you watched him tap your pussy with his cock, running the tip up and down your folds as he wet himself with your soaking arousal until finally, he pressed himself into your entrance. You let out a strained whine as he slammed into you.

Steve’s eyes were shut and mouth slightly agape as he hisses at your tightness. His hips thrust in excitement as you clench around him. You whimper again as he slides out, just to slam himself back in. Your body jolts with every lust-driven thrust. He slides his hands under you and brings them to hold onto your shoulders, bringing you down to meet his every forceful thrust. The sound of skin slapping and lewd moans fill your bedroom, your sweat sheen bodies glowing under the moonlight. Steve speeds up, mercilessly hammering that hidden sweet spot that makes you scream and clench around his cock. You spasm and shake as Steve forces another orgasm from you.

“Tell me you love me,” he pants.

You shake your head, pushing on his shoulders as the realization of your situation comes crashing back into you.

His hand wraps around your throat as he pounds into you harder than before, “Say it, (Y/N).”

You scratch at his hand as your vision begins to dot and blacken, “I–I love you…”

“Louder,” he demands, “‘I love you, Steve’, say it, doll, I wanna hear you say it.” he moans.

“I love you, Steve,” you choke out.

He releases his grip on you then, and you cough and gasp for air. His rhythm becomes erratic as his hips drive into you with renewed vigor, “Again.”

“I love you, Steve,” you moan.

His body jerks as his hips stutter to a stop. Steve comes with your name on his lips, and you whined as you felt his warmth flood inside of you. He panted above you, his hips languidly thrusting as his abdomen clenched with his drawn out release. He pulled out of you and collected the spunk that leaked from your weeping cunt on his fingers. He brought them to your lips and forced you to suck them clean.

“I love you, too, doll. Forever and ever,”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*тαgℓιѕт*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧: @hoosier-daddi

#dark!marvel #dark!mcu #dark!fic #dark!steve x you #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve smut #dark steve rogers x you #dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve x you #dark steve x reader #dark steve rogers #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers smut #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america fic #captain america x female reader #captain america fanfiction #marvel smut #mcu smut #marvel mcu #marvel fanfiction #marvel #mcu fic #mcu fanfiction

[jannelle-o]

✨~RhettandLinktober 2021 wooo~✨

Here’s all of them together and in 6/7 groups~ (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ You can also check out the individual posts here.

I felt like adding a circle frame thing this time around? haha I also thought it would help these not take too much time, but it didn’t really help for most of these lol. There were times I felt very stressed, but I also had a lot of fun and some paintings came out better than I thought they would! :D

I was initially thinking of not doing it this year, but I'm happy that I decided to try anyway. c’:  💖

It was my first time working with the masquepen and I did buy two Daniel Smith watercolors recently to try out ( Quinacridone Coral and Cobalt Blue Violet ). I enjoyed all of them, I hope to use the masquepen for a wip painting soon haha c:

I hope you enjoyed seeing these and coming along on this adventure ;w; Feel free to let me know which ones were your favorites~ 💙

Also thank you so much for the kind words, it really warmed my heart that some people said this is one of their favorite parts of October. Lots of love to y’all~ 🥺🥰💕

Here’s the list of tools I used this time around, for anyone interested:

sketch tools:

kneaded erasers

stick erasers

block eraser

Zebra DelGuard mechanical pencil 0.5mm

Uni Kuru Toga mechanical pencil 0.5mm

-tools to help draw the circle frame thing haha:

ruler

drafting compass

triangle

inking tools:

Deleter Black 4 Manga Ink

Raphael Kolinsky Sable 8408 Pointed Round size 3

Pentel Pocket Brush Pen

Sakura Pigma Micron PN pen

painting tools:

Strathmore Ready Cut Watercolor Paper Cold Press ( 5 x 7 in. )

Silver Black Velvet brushes ( size 4, 8 )

Silver Black Velvet travel brushes ( size 2,4,6,8 )

Princeton Aqua Elite brush ( size 4 )

Utrecht synthetic sablette rigger size 1

Denise’s Earth Friendly Da Vinci Watercolor Palette

Small paint palette: M. Graham, Daniel Smith, Da Vinci, and QoR

Daniel Smith watercolor ground ( titanium white )

M. Graham gouache ( titanium white )

Masquepen art masking fluid supernib fine tip ( used on a few paintings )

Kuretake Gansai Tambi Starry Colors set ( used on one painting )

Winsor & Newton Designer’s gouache ( used on one painting )

#Rhett & Link #Rhett and Link #Fanart #r&l fanart #Jann art #rhettandlinktober #rhettandlinktober2021

[sundaysundaes]

Before Our Story Began

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Smut, Fluff | 7.4k | College AU Summary: The popular new kid at your campus has this habit of raising his eyebrows when he flirts and you just realized that maybe you have a kink for it.

It has the same setting as my previous Mark Lee X Reader’s stories (Our First Time and Drunk Antics) but if you’re not into Mark (I’m not judging but what is wrong with you) you can just skip those two because this story can be read separately. 

Before dating the socially-awkward, yet utterly adorable Mark Lee, you have had your fair share of relationships that are now reduced into the form of awkward friendships. Your last boyfriend was Lee Donghyuck—who also publicly known as Haechan—and that fact does not sit well with Mark, because well, they were the best of friends. They still are, but it feels like they’re walking on thin ice whenever you’re in the picture so you try your best to stay away from your ex just to make sure everything is all right with the three of you.

Which is quite weird, knowing how close you were with Haechan before.

It was weird in the beginning, but fate really did play a major role in your relationship. You were in your second year of college and you’d managed to pull yourself together by that time, though you hadn’t really made any real friends yet. You weren’t aware of Mark’s existence either at that point, though he probably had with him being your long-time secret admirer after all. You were too busy trying to adapt to the new college and dormitory life, as well as trying to keep your grades up, that you could barely spend some time socializing with people. Project partners and study buddies were really as far as you could go with the term of friendship during your first year.

Your relationship didn’t exactly start as friends with Lee Donghyuck. Even though he had made tons of friends since his orientation days in college, you were certainly not one of them. You didn’t even know he existed in your world, and neither did he. Younger than both you and Mark, Haechan shone like the sun almost in every aspect of his life and unlike you, people had surely noticed that because he was academically smart, physically good-looking, very social and adventurously funny. It didn’t take long before he became popular at your campus. So popular, in fact, that you heard chatters of his name when you walked down the campus’ hallway with your textbooks in your arms. You had only known his name but not his face, so you didn’t really feel nervous or overly excited like any other girls would’ve probably had when you accidentally sat next to him during public speaking class and saw that he had a silly note stuck on his back, pressed against his black hoodie.

“Hey,” you called, loud enough for him to hear but quiet enough so the people around you wouldn’t notice. “You’ve got something on your back.”

The boy was young, and he had the smoothest golden skin you’d ever seen on a boy. You would probably kill to have his perfect sun-kissed skin. He had slightly chubby cheeks and a mop of dark brown hair with bangs falling over his eyes. He was slouching forward in his seat with his arms draped over his table, staring lifelessly at the board. His lower lip was jutting out in boredom and slight annoyance, reminding you of a five-year-old boy missing his favorite cartoon. He threw a glance to the side, looking at you with big, chocolate brown eyes, and his eyebrows raised in question.

“What?” He asked and you pointed to the back of his hoodie with your pen.

“I won’t judge if it’s the kind of thing you’re into,” you said, “but I don’t think placing a note behind your back with the words Spank Me, Mama, written on it is the best way to actually, you know, get it.”

He blushed and he blushed so hard that it made you think huh, he’s kinda cute, but you buried the thought right away. You had promised yourself to focus better that year. Falling head over heels for a fellow student on the first day of your new term was not the right way to do it.

“Right, thanks.” He struggled with the note, reaching behind his back as if his skin was on fire. You were about to help when he finally snatched the paper and read the words under his breath, eyes widening in shock.

“I assume that’s not your handwriting?” You were amused but tried your best not to tease him so much.

He did this pout that actually kind of fit his face, probably because he still had that baby face going on. Most of the guys you knew would look immensely disgusting if they pulled that kind of pout. Take your brother, Johnny, for example. Even the thought of him doing that already made you feel like punching your fist against a wall.

“I would weep myself to sleep if my handwriting was this bad,” he grumbled and you smiled secretly to yourself. He turned to you, an awkward grin painting his face. “Sorry, my friends are assholes. Do you happen to know a swamp nearby where I can dump dead bodies without being found out?”

You nod. “I know a place but it’s no longer free, though. They charge you, like, ten thousand won per body. Which is why I’m broke.”

His timid grin grew into a bright smile, probably feeling quite elated that somebody shared the same type of dumb humor as him. “I’m Lee Donghyuck.” He sneaked a hand under a table and you took it for a handshake, answering him with your name. “Thanks for saving my life.”

“Most welcome. You can save me back later when I have the words spank me, daddy, glued to my back.”

“So your friends are assholes too?”

“It’s what people have in common these days, I suppose.”

But when your professor spoke louder to make sure he didn’t any other noise in the room except his own, you had to cut your conversation short and only threw small grins at him every now and then.

When the class ended, you both parted ways with nothing more than a small wave of a hand and a casual, “Well, I guess, I’ll see you later.” You thought it would be too weird to get even friendlier than that, and he probably did too. You admitted that he was cute, but not cute enough for you to ditch your next class and make out with him in the nearest parking lot. You thought you were going to see him again soon anyway, probably the next week when the same class started.

And you were right, but you wished you weren’t because Donghyuck came back to your class the following week looking like a full-course meal.

Donghyuck probably had his hair cut short somewhere on the weekend and it looked absolutely fucking perfect on his head. His bangs were no longer hiding his eyes, and it was clear to you then that Donghyuck with his forehead seen, combined with those thick beautiful eyebrows and mesmerizing round eyes, were really something to behold.

He didn’t notice you were already in the class when he walked in, with his bag slinging on one shoulder. Some rowdy boys were shouting at the back of the room, “Haechan-ah, over here! Saved you a seat!” And Donghyuck grinned at them, waving his hand before he walked toward their seats and you thought Lee Donghyuck is Haechan?! That Haechan?! And mentally slapped yourself on the face when the flashback hit you. You had the chance to talk to one of the most popular boys in school and you talked about swamp and dead bodies.

Absolutely fucking perfect.

After you managed to collect yourself, you couldn’t hold back this urge to sneak a few glances to the back of the class, trying to catch a glimpse of that beautiful forehead of his—which you realized by then that you had some kind of a kink for it—without having him notice you.

But he did. He did notice every time you tried to secretly stare and he reciprocated each time with a smile, raising one of his eyebrows almost dangerously seductive at you and you thought goddamn if that wasn’t the sexiest thing I’ve seen in my twenty years of living I don’t know what is.

You offered your best effort to stay fucking calm despite everything that had been going on in your head, waving one hand at him with a small—hopefully not creepy—smile on your face. You immediately turned around right after, swallowing your breath, and tried not to vomit because your stomach felt like it was about to lurch out of your mouth. It wasn’t really an unpleasant feeling; it was just kind of new to you and you loathed the way your heart was slamming against your ribcages.

Okay, you mentally calmed yourself, get a hold of yourself. No need to panic. He’s just another cute boy, with a cute haircut, and a cute smirk, and a cute forehead and—

You really didn’t like where it was going.

When the class ended—and you didn’t learn a thing about it—you shoved your iPad back into your bag and let out the loudest sigh you had ever made in your sorry life.

“Bad day?”

Haechan’s voice was next to your ear and though you only jerked slightly on the outside, most of your soul had actually gone to heaven—or hell, from all those dirty thoughts you had about him during the last two hours of that lecture.

“Yeah,” you cooly replied. Thank God, your voice didn’t betray you. “My swamp is full again. I have to start looking for a new place.”

AM I SERIOUSLY TALKING ABOUT ANOTHER FUCKING SWAMP—

But Haechan was laughing about it, not too much but the amusement on his face was genuine. “It’s cute that you remember our previous conversation.”

“It’s cute that you do too.”

“Well, actually, that’s what I’ve been thinking about for the last week,” he told you with a smirk on his face. You dared to bet on your life that he was flirting with you and you were about to scream out of joy but you reminded yourself to play it cool.

“I don’t think it’s a conversation worth remembering,” you commented nonchalantly.

“Not if I had it with anyone else.”

You almost fell from your seat. “On second thought, it was a pretty interesting conversation, what with the—”

“Noona.” He suddenly leaned close, laying one hand on your desk to prop his weight. There was that smirk again—the one with his eyebrow raised. “I’m trying to flirt with you and ask you out on a date, if you haven’t noticed.”

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and you could hear your own heartbeat in your ears at that point. You had thought about it—about him asking you out—but your imagination did not do justice on how smooth and confident or how goddamn attractive he looked in real life. “Oh.”

“Oh.” He imitated, smirking a bit wider and you were dazed with how bright he shone. “So, can I take you out for lunch? Not anywhere close to swamps full of dead bodies, I swear.” Then after a small pause, he added, “Unless, that’s what you’re into.”

“Shut up,” you retorted, standing up and gathering all your belongings into your arms. “You’re paying.”

He laughed softly to himself, trailing after you with a cheeky grin on his face. “This swamp thing could be our thing, though.”

“Shut up.”

***

Haechan was not one to take it slow, you remember, which is way different from how Mark does things with you.

It wasn’t like Haechan was overly aggressive—as far as boys go, he was pretty normal about the whole dating and sex thing—but he really just head straight to the point whenever he had something in mind, whether it was by a sudden change of topic in your conversation, or acting it out directly with his body.

While Mark tends to plan things, Haechan just did everything out on a whim. You could be talking about science fiction movies at a cafe at one point, and ended up with having your clothes soaked with water by the next few hours because he suddenly felt like the day was too hot and jumping into the campus pool fully clothed was a good idea. You weren’t sure why you’d said yes to all of that when you just barely knew him but Haechan could be very persuasive. So dangerously so, that you would probably say yes to anything.

It was on your third date when he suddenly bent his head down and cut you in the middle of your sentence with a kiss. It was only a small peck, a quick pressing of his plump lips against yours, but it still managed to literally stop you from breathing for a good couple of seconds.

“Sorry,” he said, pulling away with his eyes still staring at your lips. “I was… distracted.”

You knew it was lust in his eyes and you were familiar with yourself enough to know that you usually preferred to have your first kiss after you knew the guy for a certain amount of time. But Haechan—the way he sometimes stared at your lips for a millisecond while you were talking, or hugged you for a few seconds too long before you parted ways—really made you feel special. Made you feel… wanted. And it had been a long time since someone made you feel that way.

So it really didn’t come too much of a surprise that when he dipped his head down to kiss you again, you responded with as much passion as he emitted. You didn’t care that both of you were still standing in the middle of your co-ed dorm’s hallway, though it was empty from how late it was. You had your fingers tangled in his hair as you tiptoed and leaned your entire weight to his body, making him inhale sharply and curl his fingers around the fabric of your dress.

“Again,” he breathed when you pulled away for a split second and immediately brought you back to him again. Haechan had one arm around your waist and another one holding your face, angling your head to the side so he could kiss you deeper.

Haechan was a good kisser—so frighteningly so that it made you feel conscious of how inexperienced you were compared to him. And with the way his hands were moving around your body, you could tell that things were going a bit too fast.

“Haechan—”

The hand that you laid on his chest to give you both some space, was brought over your head as he pressed your body against the door of your room. He kissed you harder, almost knocking your head against the wooden surface, and you could taste the flavor of the lollipop he had on his way back to your dorm. His scent was intoxicating in the best way possible, numbing your mind from thinking how this could probably end up in a bad decision.

“Haechan-ah, wait,” you gasped against his mouth, and when he did, pulling away from you for a few inches to catch his own breath, you noticed that even if you managed to stop him, you probably wouldn’t sound very convincing.

It was really fortunate that although Haechan was a man of passion, he still had the patience to make your consent his priority. “Too fast?” He asked, warm breath fanning against your lips and you really wanted to just close those few inches between you and be smothered with his kisses again.

So you did, and you could feel him smirking into the kiss. The way he slipped his tongue between your mouth made your knees buckle underneath your weight so you clutched onto him as if you were hanging to dear life. Haechan formed this low grunt at the back of his throat that made your skin tingle in delight, knowing that you had that kind of effect on him.

But really, something still didn’t feel right.

“Do you want to stop?” He asked, noticing how you fidgeted uncomfortably under his touch. He looked like stopping at this point would be the last thing he wanted to do but he still gave you the space you needed.

You nodded your head slowly at his question. Haechan looked like he had to put his best effort to gain control of his body and move away from you, and you could totally relate at that point, actually. You weren’t really sure why did you even stop him before. It just felt like the right thing to do but at the same time, it was the last thing you wanted to do.

“Haechannie—"

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step away from you and releasing you from his hold. You were surprised by the fact that you almost fell down to the floor when he wasn’t holding you.

“No, don’t be—it was, umm,” You cleared your throat. The collar of your knitted sweater suddenly felt too tight. “It was good.”

“Good?” Haechan asked, smirking as he raised an eyebrow and you thought fuck there’s that look again and you cursed inwardly a few more times for feeling so whipped for his little, seductive eyebrow raise. “I thought that was more than good, Noona.”

“Probably for you,” you wanted to tease but you could hear your voice crack at the end.

“Oh, really?”

And he kissed you again because he never wanted to lose his game. He knew he already had you wrapped under his fingers; he just wanted to make you succumb to him. To have you say how amazing his touches really felt on your skin because he was just that kind of a guy.

And he was winning. Your reaction was exactly the way he wanted you to be, arching your back under his touch, pressing your chest against his, tongue darting out to taste the inside of his mouth better and longer.

“No, wait, timeout.” You pushed him away again and you noticed that his hair was a mess from the work of your fingers and weirdly enough, it only made him ten thousand times hotter.

“Noona, you’re torturing me.” He whined against your shoulder, playfully biting the skin over your clothes. “Do you want me to stop or not?”

Haechan had the habit of whining when things didn’t go his way. It was immature and it would probably look childishly annoying on someone else, but it only made him  that much more adorable. Still annoying most of the time, but always adorable.

“I’m sorry.” You were torn between feeling bad or laughing about it because my God, look at that pout. “Maybe a five-minute break? I could make you some coffee. My roommate is away for the weekend.”

He sighed, the pout on his lips grew even more apparent. “You’re inviting me to your room? At this hour? After this?”

“I’m not going to have sex with you tonight, Lee Donghyuck, just to be clear.”

“Which is the more reason why you shouldn’t be inviting me over then!”

You laughed because his voice was becoming quite high-pitched. “Are you so incapable of using your brain instead of your dick?”

“Noonaaaaa~” He threw his head back in exasperation, which gave you the chance to ogle at the column of his throat. “Seriously, is torturing guys at the end of a date your sick hobby or something?”

“Look, if you stay over, we can still make-out.” You throw a smirk at him, unlocked your door and pushed it wide open. “And I make the most amazing coffee, trust me.”

“Fine,” he exhaled, walking into your room with a suppressed smile on his face. “And I’m only here for coffee, nothing more. Making-out with you is just a bonus.” And you found yourself giggling like a child as he cradled you into his arms and pushed you down to your bed because you both knew, it was the other way around.

***

About a month later, a similar situation happened again and there was no getting out of it.

It started with Haechan coming over to your room on a Sunday afternoon. Your roommate was staying over at her boyfriend’s place again for the weekend, so you had the room to yourself for the entire day. Haechan came unplanned and he’d brought his MacBook with him because, “I know myself well enough that I’d end up playing Overwatch instead of working on my assignment, so could you please be a responsible adult and force me to do my work even if I start crying at your feet?”

Haechan was always the dramatic one in your relationship but you nodded your head and let him in. You brought over some snacks and made him coffee like usual—which he always replied with, “Noona, I don’t want to sound like an ungrateful boyfriend but this coffee tastes like shi—” but was always finished with a pillow smacked to his face, a form of your courtesy.

You were working on your own papers too, sitting on the carpeted floor with your back pressed against the foot of your bed and a MacBook resting on your lap. Your textbooks were sprawled all over the place, and Haechan was lying down on your bed, head falling over the edge. He was looking at his phone, his thumb running up and down the screen.

“Noona?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m bored.”

“Aren’t you supposed to work on your assignment?”

“Finished it already.”

You threw a look over your shoulder, glancing to see him lounging on your bed as if it was his own. Haechan already had his MacBook closed, and was looking at you upside down with a completely bored look on his face. You knew he was smart, but you didn’t know he was that smart when he really put his mind to it.

“Well, that was fast,” you commented.

“No, you’re just doing it painfully slow.”

“Well, sorry for not being as smart as you,” you mumbled, even though you weren’t really annoyed about it. Haechan  huffed and walked closer, sitting closely right behind you, and trapping you between his legs.

“You’re the smartest girl I’ve ever met, though,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist. “What are you working on exactly?”

“I don’t even know, honestly,” you sighed, leaning against his chest, dropping your head on his shoulder. “You wanna order some take-out?”

“Can I eat you for dinner instead?”

“Was that a sex joke, Lee Donghyuck?”

“Could be, if you’re interested.” You could see him wiggling his eyebrows from his reflection on your standing mirror. Both of you looked adorable, if you could say so yourself, wearing a matching white shirt (though not on purpose) and enjoying each other’s warmth with Haechan’s arms wrapped protectively around your figure. You sighed as you admired the sight of Haechan’s features in the mirror.

“Have I told you how sexy you look with your hair pushed back like this?” You asked, reaching out to touch some of his strands and he followed your gaze, looking at his own reflection in the mirror.

“Huh.” He seemed surprised. “It’s the first time you said that actually. What else do you think is sexy about me?”

“Promise you won’t get cocky about it if I tell you?”

“Can’t. You know how I am.”

You sighed but you succumbed to his wish. He praised you from time to time, it was only fair for you to do the same. “The way you dance.”

“You saw me dance?”

“Hm-hmm.”

“When?”

“That time when we went to Jaemin’s party. You were dancing to Billy Jean.”

“You saw that?!” He was flustered, scarlet painting his cheeks and ears. “That was—I thought you were in the bathroom!”

“Well, I was going to but then I saw you and kinda had to stop and stare for a little. You dance more with your hips than with your hands, do you know that? It was kinda hot.”

And just like that, the flabbergasted look on his face was immediately replaced with that Godforsaken cocky smirk again. “Were you turned on back then because of me?”

“A little. Or maybe I just really had to pee.”

“You should’ve said something, you know.”

“And then what? Have sex with you in Jaemin’s room? No freaking way.”

“We could’ve used my car. My hips could do so much more than just dancing, you know.”

“You’re disgusting.” You elbowed him slightly on the stomach to stop him from giggling, before you focused back on your MacBook. “Now, shoo, my boy. Mommy’s gotta work.”

Haechan had his chin on one of your shoulders. “But Noona~”

“I’m studying.”

“I’m bored~” He whined like the baby that he was, nuzzling his nose against the crook of your neck and you flinched slightly when his breath tickled your skin. “Can we make-out? Please pretty pleaseeeee~”

“Give me half an hour to finish this real quick—”

“Noonaaaaaaa~”

“What?” You were trapped between laughing and acting annoyed about it. “I seriously need to study. Didn’t you tell me to be a responsible adult for today?”

“You could also be a responsible adult by making-out with me though.” He chuckled to himself. “We could do adult things if you—”

“No,” you firmly stated though your smile kept on appearing on your face. You pushed a palm against his cheek, playfully shoving him away. “Now, go away, Dongsookie, I really have to study.”

“Fine,” he exhaled loudly against your shoulder and you could practically feel his pout growing on his face. He didn’t let you go, though. He kind of just sat there behind you, still circling his arms around your waist as he lazily stared at the words you were typing on the keyboard. You had trouble concentrating with the way you could feel every time he took in a breath from how close his chest was pressed against your spine but eventually you got the hang of it.

You were already working on your third page when Haechan suddenly had his lips on the side of your neck, lazily suckling on the skin until you could no longer ignore him.

“Haechannie.”

“Hmm?”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m playing a game,” he murmured against your skin, licking at the soft skin before he nibbled at it with his teeth. “It’s called how fast can I distract my girlfriend from working over a stupid assignment instead of spending time with me.”

“But I am spending time with you, though.”

“You know what I mean.”

And you had to bite your lip because he had a certain kind of pressure on his words that made your skin tingle in anticipation. His lips were soft but scorching hot as he drew bruises on your skin and it felt so good and dangerous at the same time. It was like standing on a bridge made of glass, both exciting and terrifying.

“You know what I think is sexy about you?” He quietly asked, one hand running down your body, slipping under your shirt and hovering dangerously close to your bra. “The way you say my name when we kiss,” he continued, adding a soft moan when he latched his lips around your earlobe.

You shivered, feeling heat growing on your cheeks. “Haechannie—”

“Yes, like that,” he chuckled, his voice suddenly became deeper. “You’re so sexy, you’re driving me insane.”

You tried your best to ignore him, you really did. But the second he had his warm mouth against your lips, his fingers grabbing your face almost forcefully to turn towards him, you just lost it and you found yourself crawling into his lap, tangling your legs around his waist and moaning against his mouth as he was against yours.

“Noona,” he sighed when you kissed down his neck, as if your every touch was a gift that he craved more and more. He shuddered slightly when you had your hand under his shirt and as if you just pushed the wrong button, he suddenly picked you up by the waist, shoved your textbooks away with one swipe of the back of his hand, and laid you down on the carpeted floor in one swift motion.

“If you keep doing that,” he breathed out heavily, eyes glazed as he stared at your kiss swollen lips. “I won’t be able to stop, even if you beg me to.”

You weren’t sure what came over you but you found yourself hooking your fingers around his necklace and brought his face down, whispering, “Then don’t stop,” directly against his lips.

It was all rush and passion and Haechan was not wasting even a second away before he began to undress you, removing each clothing very easily and you secretly wondered just how many times had he done this before from how smooth he unclasped your bra with one flick of his finger.

He pulled his shirt over his head, his silver necklace hanging loosely around his neck. “Tell me if I’m being too fast,” he said, before he climbed on top of you, throwing the piece of clothing away without a care. Your heart jumped at the sight of him, knowing how this could lead to something more but couldn’t really stop him. Not with the way he had his hands reaching down from the valley of your breasts, down to your stomach, his fingers brushing above the hem of your jeans.

His kiss was always breathtaking, to say the least, but it was a bit different this time because it felt like he was losing control of himself. His kiss was almost forceful, his teeth roughly nibbling at your lower lip before he moved down your chin and found his place in the crook of your neck again. His hand was on your chest, cupping you fully with his palm and let out this sexy groan when he felt you gasping his name against his mouth.

“Fuck, you’re just doing that on purpose now, aren’t you?” He hissed, eyes clouded with lust. He peppered kisses down your chest, lips hovering above your nipple when he said, “You’re being cruel, Noona.” You were tugging at his dark locks when he placed it between his lips, sucking at the sensitive spot, and you tried to hold back your moan but failing every time.

Haechan was giggling to himself, his tongue flicking around the bud. “The way you’re reacting to me is so cute. I didn’t know you were this sensitive.” He ran his tongue across his lower lip, staring at you like he wanted to ravish every part of you, which he probably did. “You’re so goddamn cute.”

“Haechannie.”

“Yeah?”

“I won’t be needing that kind of commentary ever again in the future, thanks,” you uttered, trying your best to focus on his touch and not his words because Haechan could be annoyingly talkative sometimes.

He chuckled again, moving along to land a few kisses on your stomach. “If you’re that sensitive here, how sensitive will you be if I touch you right over…” He trailed a finger down from your belly button to the edge of your underwear. His eyes twinkled gleefully before he rubbed your clit over your underwear. “…here?”

You gave your best strength to stay sane but Haechan’s giggle over your reaction only tortured you even further. “Stop playing around,” you hissed under your breath, pretty sure that you were blushing from ear to ear.

“Playing?” Haechan grinned tauntingly, “I’m being pretty serious, though.” He spread your legs, kissing the inner part of your trembling thigh before he hovered dangerously close to the point you could feel his breath down there. You couldn’t help but gulp in anticipation and Haechan knew that. He knew how much you wanted him to take off your underwear and eat you out like it’s his last meal.

But of course, being the little fucking devil that he was, Haechan only threw you his usual smirk and said, “You know I’d do anything for you, right, Noona? You just gotta beg for it.”

“No way.”

“Otherwise, I wouldn’t know.” He faked a pout. “I’m younger than you, you know. I need you to teach me these things.”

You reciprocated by kicking him right on his abs because as desperate as you were, there was no way in hell you were going to grovel at his feet, begging for him to please you. “All right, all right, I’m sorry, geez!” Haechan said, laughing as he successfully dodged two of your first kicks. Soon after, he grabbed your moving legs, carefully placed them on his sides and ran his hands slowly from your legs to your thighs. He took a long glance at your body, sighing like it was some kind of beautiful torture for him to take. “You don’t even realize how hot you are, do you?” He leaned closer and grabbed you by your chin, locking both of your gazes together. “Do you even know how hard I am right now because of you?”

It was a rhetorical question, clearly, because you could definitely tell how hard and hot he was pressing against you, even if his jeans and your underwear were still on the way.

“God, just—” you gasped when he slipped a knee between your legs, pressing it against your core. “Just stop being a fucking tease and fuck me already, Donghyuck.”

And he grinned against your skin. “Fucking finally.” You heard him say under his breath, before he carried you in his arms and moved you to the bed. It felt somewhat scary, how fast he was being, because you had only experienced sex once and it was the painfully awkward kind of sex with your high school boyfriend and you didn’t really have the chance to practice it with anyone else while it seemed to you, at this point, was clearly not the case for him.

Haechan had his eyes on you, all half-lidded with lust and passion, as he unbuckled the belt of his jeans and you had to gulp at the sight. He didn’t really have six-pack abs like Jaehyun—considering your boyfriend was quite an athlete during his senior days—but his shoulders were broad, his chest was toned, his stomach was lean and his skin, as it glistened slightly with sweat, was just absolutely breathtaking.

“Enjoying the view?” He asked, and you knew how he’d always been cocky in his entire life, but he’d never been this cocky. “You’re practically drooling.”

“I am not,” you retorted but you lacked confidence. Haechan grabbed a condom from the pocket of his jeans before he climbed back into the bed with his jeans unbuttoned.

“Why do you already have a condom with you?”

“Because I came prepared.”

“I thought you said you wanted to study.”

“Among other things,” he grinned against your lips and shushed down your next protest. “I will be studying your body, if you give me the chance.”

“That was so lame.” But even your insult couldn’t mask how nervous you sounded, especially when Haechan was settling himself between your legs again, fingers hooking around your underwear.

“Final chance if you want me to stop, Noona,” he said though it felt like it was almost impossible for him to stop. “I’m serious. After this, I won’t stop even if you cry.”

You swallowed your breath, heart thrumming loud against your chest. “Just do whatever you want,” you answered, almost too quiet for even your ears to hear but Haechan’s eyes gleamed in anticipation.

“That’s my girl,” he said, grabbing your thighs and spreading your legs apart before he leaned in to taste your mouth again. “I’ll be gentle, don’t worry.”

You realized you were holding your breath when Haechan wrapped the condom around his length and he had his eyes on you before he pushed in, asking with an unexpected low voice of his, “Ready?”

But he did not wait for an answer and you found yourself hissing when he pushed in, slowly at first and suddenly all at once. You twisted your fingers against the bed sheet, biting your lower lip because it hurt trying to adjust to his size and Haechan was a little bit lost in his own thoughts, muttering, “Fuck, you’re so tight,” under his breath, slightly throwing his head back out of pleasure. “Noona, you’re so fucking tight. Do you know that?”

He leaned closer to you, chest pressing against your breasts as he mouthed against the skin of your shoulder and slowly began to move his hips. “You all right?” He asked, making eye contact after a while and you shakily nodded your head, though the pain was still there. “Then I’ll move faster.”

You almost hit your head against your headboard when he suddenly picked up the pace, thrusting into you hard and deep; it knocked the breath out of your lungs. “Haecha—” you could barely speak at that point, arms clutching tight to his back, nails raking against his spine.

“Fuck,” he uttered between heavy breaths as he sat on his knees, holding both of your legs in the air, almost splitting your body in half and pushed deeper. “How the fuck do you feel this good, I—” he ended his sentence short, kissing your ankle instead, his eyes never leaving yours. “I wanna keep you—you’re so pretty like this, Noona—so fucking pretty—”

Haechan was always good with his words but at that time, he was making incoherent noises at the back of his throat, jumping from one sentence to another as if he was thinking about several things at once and he was running out of time.

“Haechan, wait—s-slow down—” You placed a hand on his shoulder, tears forming in your eyes. “You’re moving too fast—It hurts—”

Haechan was unfocused, but the last two words that slipped from your mouth brought him back to reality. He stopped almost immediately, looking at you with eyes searching your face. “Does it hurt?” He asked and you nodded, your body shaking a little bit. His gaze softened, cupping your cheek in his hand before he slowly pulled out of you. “I’m sorry, come here.” He cradled you into his arms, sitting down on the bed and helped you climb into his lap. “Maybe if we do it this way,” he said, wiping a tear from your eye with his thumb, “You’ll feel better?”

You could feel him twitching below you, the tip of his cock pressing against your folds. Haechan stayed true to his promise, he wasn’t going to stop even if you cried and that’s fine because you didn’t want him to.

“Take your time,” Haechan said, smiling gently in a way that was so not him that it made you feel weird. You could tell that he was trying to keep himself calm and composed even when all he wanted to do was to fuck you senselessly.

He pushed inside again, but let you take control of the pace this time. You slid down slowly, wincing slightly at the friction but it no longer hurt as much. Haechan was staring at you the entire time, unconsciously licking his lower lip when you slowly began to bounce on his lap.

“Kiss me,” he demanded and you did, sharing his breath and his moans, and tangling your hands in his hair. When he felt your body relaxing against him, he grabbed you by the waist and suddenly thrust forward, making you gasp and clenched your legs together.

“Fuck,” he moaned under his breath, hissing at how perfect you felt around him. “Noona, you can be mad at me as much as you want after this but for now let me just—” he groaned, furrowing his eyebrows at the feeling of him sliding in and out of you. “Just let me fuck you the way I want.”

And you found yourself thrown back to the bed with him thrusting into you deep and raw, faster and much more forceful than before. His nails were sinking into your skin from how hard he was holding you by your hips, keeping you still as he rocked his hips forward as hard and as fast as he liked. Expletives were falling from his lips between his low grunts and breathy moans and you couldn’t help but sob a little at how strong he was going. It felt painfully amazing, and you knew your body wasn’t making any sense, and it surprised you when your orgasm hit you like a wave, just a few seconds before he reached his. You honestly never thought that something so painful could also bring this much pleasure and you wanted to be mad at him but you couldn’t even find the energy to keep yourself up.

You fell down to the bed with Haechan toppling on top of you almost immediately, chest heaving fast as he tried to bring back some air into his lungs.

“Holy fucking hell,” he said, breathing heavily at the juncture of your neck. “That was so good. This is probably the first time I—”

“Haechannie.”

“Oh right, shit!” He immediately jumped away, giving you some space and gently placed his palm on the side of your face, checking your condition. “Are you okay? Are you hurt somewhere? Noona, I’m so sor—Yah!“

You pinched him by the nose, glowering at him with the little strength you have left and you didn’t let go even if he was tapping frantically against the back of your hand, asking for time-outs before you broke his bones.

Well, he said you could be mad at him all you want. It was time for him to face your wrath and it was not going to be pretty.

***

It wasn’t long until your name became a famous topic to discuss around the hallway too and it felt weird yet exciting at the same time, because it was true. You were dating Lee Haechan. And no matter how many times you had to convince yourself that it wasn’t solely your imagination, it still felt unreal.

Because Haechan was shining like the sun, and you couldn’t really shine as bright.

It suddenly felt like high school all over again when you’d once dated the Prom King, Jung Jaehyun, where people always talked behind your back, making comments about your face, or your body, or your attitude and how every aspect of your life did not fit the legendary high school prince that was Jung Jaehyun. It had gotten so much into your head that you had to break up with him, and hating yourself for over a year on how weak you’d become.

Dating Haechan was similar but different in the way he treated you. Jaehyun was too kind, not really saying anything back to anyone who said awful things about you and instead, just told you to not pay any mind about it. Haechan was much braver in saying the things that came to mind, so whenever he heard people talking trash about you, he would come up to them with words laced with venom. It was kind of childish, the way he got worked up rather easily, and even more childish when he continued to pout and fume about it even after a whole day had passed.

“Seriously, I said I’m fine,” you once said to him, entering his Hyundai after he opened the door for you.

“Well, I’m pissed off,” he said, unconsciously closing the door a bit too hard, making you flinch slightly. He walked to the other side of the car, sinking to his seat behind the wheel and exhaled loudly.

“Haechannie.”

“What?” His tone was still a bit harsh, but you knew he didn’t mean to shout at you.

“Thank you for defending me,” you softly said, reaching out for his hand. “But at this point, you’re gonna be mad with literally everyone and anger does not look pretty on you.”

“But aren’t you pissed, though? They literally have no business whatsoever to—”

“I know.” You squeezed his hand. “Look if it gets worse, we can always plan out something. There’s this perfect swamp I know outside of town.”

And Haechan couldn’t help but smile. Maybe he was right, that swamp thing could really be your thing. “You and your stupid swamp,” he muttered, shaking his head in amusement as he grabbed your face for a kiss. “Can we have sex at your place today?”

You sighed. It was always like this when it came to him.  “Sure, why not.”

Because certainly, you weren’t complaining.

***

#lee donghyuck #lee haechan #haechan #nct haechan #nct 127 #nct u #nct dream #mark lee #haechan smut #lee haechan smut #nct fanfic #haechan imagines #nct imagines #nct scenarios #mark lee smut #haechan x reader #donghyuck x you #nct dream haechan #haechan x you #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #haechan scenarios #nct #mine #sundaysundaes

[meruz]

i was gonna draw tonight but i dropped my tablet pen and the barrel of the pen broke off and flew somewhere underneath (??) my bed (?) and now i cant find it so I’m just gonna answer asks before bed instead. just some art asks and more mentions of infinity train LOL

What program and brushes do you use when making your art?

@ravki hi! part of this is in my FAQ but i’ll say it again anyways LOL: I use photoshop CC and have used photoshop for pretty much....my whole art career. I’ve dabbled in clip and paint tool sai in the past but photoshop is my true wife, we eloped away from her awful father adobe many years ago and are very happy together. 

as for brushes... I should prob put this info in my FAQ too lol,... my default brush set is actually free to download here! Tho I will say I also use steve ahn’s storyboarding brush sometimes and lately i’ve been using shiyoon kim’s brushes A TON. Shiyoon’s cost a couple bucks but they’re super worth it imo

How do you choose colors?

This is kind of a difficult one to describe from scratch but hmm.... I’ll put it this way. Generally when I go into coloring or painting something I already have some colors in mind. Like for a certain piece I know I want a bright green, or a magenta, or a dark blue in certain areas. A lot of the time I know a mood I want. So I’ll start with that core color tone and build around it. I’ll use an example from a recent piece

So you can see here that the first color I accessed was that bright cyan. So I start with that bright cyan and then bring in its “friends” in the form of analogous colors (shown below on the far left)

greens greys etc. THEN I know I want the characters to stand out against all the blue so I start laying down warm contrasting colors for them (middle group). the mat under them is orange, skin tones are warm, ryans flannel is red etc. then to get them to work together I work more cool colors into the shadows and slightly warmer (not too warm because its a cool img overall so in this case, greener LOL) colors into highlights. 

hope that makes sense? for me choosing colors is a lot about story and composition. If you know what you want to say, the mood you want to create, where you want to go, the path to get there becomes a lot clearer imo.

Have you ever considered making an art book?

I have! But I don’t think I currently have enough...original illustrations for one LOL? Not that an art book has to be all original work but if I were putting fanart in an art book...at that point I’d just make a fanzine. I’m making more original work lately though so maybe this year....? Who knows. For now, I do have a sketchbook up on gumroad. Hoping to do one of those next year too.

Any tips for keeping background drawings from getting super stiff, especially since things like interiors have a lot of straight lines?

This is a really interesting ask. Really great question that I don’t think gets asked enough - forgive me if I get a bit art school here but I drew up some examples.

First I think we have to investigate the assumption that straight lines make things stiff. That seems true on an instinctual level and certainly proves to be true very often But I don’t think its actually the straight lines themselves but the sort of arrangements and compositions they tend to dictate. Take this for instance.

pretty big difference, right? there’s a couple things that make a composition feel stiff and one of the most significant is lines that are perpendicular and parallel to the frame. it feels locked in and solid, like bricks. but the moment you shift these angles even a little the composition instantly becomes more dynamic because our innate senses of weight, gravity, and directionality can sense movement.

But it’s not just diagonals let’s take this one step further

when lines meet and terminate together those tangents can flatten and lock space so the best way to solve this is with overlap and complete intersection, forms continuing past or behind each other feel more layered and less like a flat mosaic... again, even in the simplest line drawings. So how do we apply this to a background?

ok I drew this really fast so its potentially not the best example but I think the idea is there. This space isn’t even particularly deep, it’s basically a room, a doorway, and a hallway behind it, and we’re not seeing that much of any of those things LOL. but when you draw an environmental object like a doorway in a way that lines up with the perpendicular and parallel lines of the canvas you’re automatically flattening it and making it look rigid.

and when you create tangents with objects and characters you flatten the space around them and make it difficult to tell what is actually in front or behind or if they’re on the same plane.

GOD I HOPE THIS MAKES SENSE. Anyways. avoid those things and you’ll instantly have less stiff bgs no matter what kind of bg you’re depicting.

I wanna mention however that this isn’t to say a stiff bg with flat space doesn’t have its purposes.

sometimes you want to create parallels and tangents. it can make characters feel closed in, trapped, regimented, part of a routine, etc. it’s also great for making a composition look ornamental (especially combined with symmetry).

directors like wes anderson can even use these compositional elements to make images feel uncanny or harrowing! its very versatile. I think the important thing is to just be aware of when you are making something rigid and when that’s the last thing you want to do. conscious choices.

Can you speak Tagalog?

@lemuelzero101​ I can! BUT NOT VERY WELL LOL ;;; both my parents are from Visayas! but they met and had me in the states lol so I’m pretty American born and raised. We go back to visit family on occasion but not regularly. My tagalog is mostly absorbed from listening to relatives at parties lol and my parents speak bisaya at home so I’m marginally better at that. Sorry to any filipinos out there hoping I’d be better educated, I’m like a little baby...

I do love meeting and talking to other filipinos online though, I grew up in an area that was relatively diverse but the asian population was small and the filipino population basically non-existent. I was like one of maybe 2 filipino kids in my highschool of 2000.

Apart from infinity train what shows are you watching now? Have you seen jujitsu kaisen?

Man this is gonna sound so boring but I haven’t watched a lot of tv lately.  It’s not really part of my daily routine. Let’s see... I was sort of watching Amphibia, Craig of the Creek, and the new Digimon Adventure 2020 but I keep falling off watching those for one reason or another. Also there’s a lot of episodes, it doesn’t feel like something I can just binge and be done with.

The last thing I binged was Succession. I want that show and Euphoria back so bad, when I’m done forcing all my friends to watch Infinity Train im cancelling my HBO subscription until Succession and Euphoria return so they know exactly what I’m on their list for LOL. 

I have not watched jujitsu kaisen but I’ve kept up with some of the sakuga news (I keep up with anime industry news and production info like x5 the amt i keep up with actual anime) for it and their compositing/editing looks dope. I’ve read the manga actually LOL or at least part of the beginning. I wasn’t super keen on the whole finger eating thing. Also to be honest I kinda feel like its the new Bleach and I never particularly cared about Bleach. Characters look nice enough tho. I wholeheartedly support jjk fans.

Thank you! Thank you @keznodzieja​! <3

And thank you anons who don’t watch infinity train LOL...it’s always nice to hear when people enjoy my fanart despite not knowing the source material because it lifts a little bit of the “oh god am I being annoying???” fear off my chest. But also I think you should watch infinity train because it’s really good I have no reservations recommending it.

#ask #GOD so much to say everyday #now to respond to e-mails and hit the hay at a responsible time