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The Dupont Brothers (tho one of them’s a Harrison ofc)

↳ Tinder matched and subsequently ghosted by the hot guy that lives across from you, you’re mostly resigned to singleton life, dejected and somewhat fed up. That is, until a screwed up delivery turns things around, in the most unexpected of ways.
↳ Female reader x Bang Chan
↳ 10.7k
! Strong language, angst and tension, DILF Chan, single dad Chan, neighbours au, explicit sexual content, dirty talk, a major size kink, Chan has a concerningly massive cock, explicitly unprotected sex, creampie, soft dominant Chan, praise and instruction, body worship, themes of single parenthood, brief references to illness, miscommunication quickly resolved, adult themes throughout !
「suitable for 18+ readers only」 「© August 2022 by jl-micasea-fics」

Flat 2.
As in, the accommodation between flats one and three.
As in, the residence opposite yours.
As in, the living space occupied by him.
You’d had a good day, up until this point. Work had been relatively peaceful, save for that one particularly stubborn customer that simply couldn’t grasp the concept of needing proof of purchase for a refund.
You suppose that in this moment, you know how that customer had felt. Looking down at the neatly strung brown paper parcel in your hands, you’re confused, concerned, and more than a little annoyed.
The label on the box reads, stark and clear, ‘Copper Court, Flat 2’. Yet here you are, having retrieved it from your pigeon hole; and your pigeon hole most certainly isn’t labelled ‘Flat 2’.
Your first thought is to shove the parcel in his pigeon hole, and you would, were it not already stuffed full to the brim with letters and magazines, spam leaflets from the local takeaway offering twenty percent off pizzas on a Tuesday.
A good neighbour would just take it up to Flat 2. A good neighbour would empty the pigeon hole of its current postal nightmare and take that up too, hand delivering it with a smile.
But here’s the thing.
You’ve been making an active point of avoiding the guy from Flat 2. Whether it’s leaving ten minutes earlier for work or opting to take the stairs to the third floor rather than risking inescapable metal confinement via the elevator, the sudden decline in your once frequent run-ins is no accident.
And really, you don’t think you can be blamed for that. If someone had told you three weeks ago that you’d be inexplicably Tinder matched with the guy living opposite you, only to be stood up on the night of your first date and subsequently ghosted, you’d be loath to believe them.
But that’s exactly what happened.
Keep reading



Been watching Taskmaster instead of being a person, here’s some oc bullshit

Obsessed w her vibe 👁️
Freak Show Talk | 3racha, lmh




𝙡𝙭𝙭. 𝙞 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚
! fwb, free use ft. all, fujoshi fem reader, poly, enm, angst, smut, dead dove do not eat. <1k wc. 18+ readers only !
「Contents List」 「Act 1」 「© October 2024 by jl-micasea-fics」

“I’ll get you back, bestie. Count on it.”
But, like... when?
A fortnight on from the declaration and the discomfort of separation is so settled under Minho’s skin he’s tempted to carve it out. He doesn’t want to get used to what is gradually becoming routine; her frequent shifts at the coffee shop align perfectly with his own professional obligations and so their days are spent busy and apart, their evenings rarely under the same roof— she has engagements, she says, and fuck if he knows what those are. All he knows is that she glows when she returns, and it makes him feel less than worthless.
The most obvious conclusion he finds himself hopping to: she’s fucking someone else. Someone removed from the dramatics of ‘3racha x everyone’, and honestly, how can he blame her for that? Regardless, he backs himself. Feels her affection in the fleeting looks and passing touches. Clutches at the affirmation like it’s damn life support.
He pours himself into dancing, as a man so in need of distraction is wont to do. He hangs out with Jisung where their schedules align, finds peace and an unfettered joy there for as long as they’re together. Jisung is sunlight incarnate. So giving it makes Minho’s body ache. There’s nothing the rapper wouldn’t do for him, and he knows it well, but it doesn’t seem to stop hesitation staying his hand when intimacy becomes the moment. Jisung is patient, understanding. Knows that it’s not his fault that his sexual appetite has plummeted, but rather the blame of the heartache he suffers, so dense and dark as to eclipse any thoughts of wrapping himself around another. The irony of it all isn’t lost on Minho; he ended things with her in hopes it would grant them both romantic freedom, yet in her absence he feels ever more imprisoned by the obligations he sets upon himself— how can he indulge with Jisung in good conscience when he feels so fucking incomplete? He also hoped that removing sex from the table would encourage her to open up to him about what it is she keeps to herself. No such luck, it seems.
He loses himself to these thoughts in moments of isolation. Fearful of them he does his utmost to ensure he’s not left alone for long. Surrounds himself with clients, with strangers in the depths of neon bars, with Jisung wherever possible, with things he knows he loves, even if he never quite feels it in the moment.
Tidying the studio following a particularly hard lesson—the inclusion of children is a challenging adjustment to his client base, but the parents with bottomless wallets make it lucrative—he mentally plans the next; a budding dance troupe preparing for a competition, always so fiery and full of ambition. He wonders how far over they’ll run this time. The two-hour slot is never enough. Doesn’t think he’ll mind it today. Taking things just like this—a day, an hour, a minute at a time—helps keep him grounded. If he thinks too much of what awaits him when he gets home, he’ll ruin much more than the lessons.
With a half hour before the troupe arrive, Minho takes his chances on his boyfriend. Nothing is quite as effective a salve to nerves as the rapper’s honeyed voice. He retrieves his phone from the sound system desk, dials the contact, perches on the corner sofa. Takes a few rings longer than usual for him to answer.
“What’s up, man?”
“Hey.” Minho grins. “Just thought I'd call.”
“Oh, yeah? So sweet. Always thinking about me.”
Minho’s about to gush, when in the background he hears clinking crockery, quiet chatter, the rush of a coffee steamer.
“I thought you were recording today?” Minho says.
“Yeah. We are. I just dipped for a bit. Caffeine calls, you know how it is.”
“Do I ever. You by yourself?”
“Oh, uh...”
He hesitates.
“Jisung?”
“I’m just with a friend.”
“Okay? Who?”
“Hey, uh, my order’s about to come out. I’ll call you later?”
“Jisung—”
“Bye, baby.”
Like that the call ends, the dull dial tone sounding off in Minho’s ear. His stomach rolls over uncomfortably, tightening, pulling. It’s unlike Jisung to be secretive. So unlike him to be so bothered. He’s not the jealous type, as recent endeavours with his ex have demonstrated, but courtesy of the same timeline of events, has discovered that he most definitely is the suspicious type. And now he has reason to be. Impulsively, he calls Jisung back twice straight away. The first call rings off. The second clicks straight through to voicemail. A wave of unease sends Minho to his feet, to pacing, where he spends the next fifteen minutes until the dance troupe arrive. They’re loud and raring to go. Minho’s head throbs.
“What’s up, man!?” One of them hollers, all smiles and lovely energy. Nothing in their world is going tits up, clearly.
“Let’s get started,” Minho grumbles. “We cannot run over today.”

𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚, 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜, 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚 >
𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖 𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙? 𝙨𝙖𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚 ♡ >
< 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 | 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 >

here are some Digitally Painted hand studies i made this summer

Brain storming an environment for a comic I'm making with Milo and Paloma






Business card covers and backs. professional adult at your service .

a really old giagantic painting from freshman year
I think I named it Babalon




i was experimenting with different things with this series. it was kind of a hit and miss.

i reworked a figure study sketch i did last winter break. i’m not sure if its done, i may go back in to it but i thought id show you guys what i’ve been up to!