#it was supposed to be small but then I had to keep making the canvas bigger so I could add more and now it’s a full piece 😵‍💫😵‍💫

[grimalkinscribbles]

Lil snippet of my current wip

[1-800-kami]

4:23 pm | the adventures of dad!gojo

content: 0.9k words, fem!reader, dad gojo, megumi is your son, silly crack fic

gojo satoru is a man with very little fears.

in actuality, people are afraid of him. a mere gaze from those cerulean blue eyes of his sends people running off to the opposite direction, so the adjective “intimidating” was quite the understatement to describe him. some might even say that he’s the strongest, so he possesses no fear at all.

despite that, gojo has one thing he’s deathly afraid of: you–his wife, when you’re angry.

“suguru, help me out here!” geto can physically feel his bestfriend’s panic through the phone. gojo explained the situation in a fast ramble–geto could barely understand what he was saying, but he thinks he got the gist of it: you went out to run some errands and entrusted gojo to take care of your two year old child, megumi, while you were out. gojo conjured up the genius idea of keeping megumi entertained by handing him a paper and markers–so that they could surprise you with megumi’s amazing artistic abilities once you came back home.

it had gone “so well”, gojo said earlier, picking up the paper and studying it. “i think this is a drawing of a cat? or a dog, i don’t really know.. still, it’s made by my son, and it’s the peak of art and i think everyone should see it!”

gojo was so busy trying to decipher what megumi had drawn that he didn’t realize that his son still had the markers in his hands. when he peers over to look at megumi again, he just about screamed.

“gumi- no- GUMI!” he shrieks, snatching the markers away from his son’s hold. megumi, not having a paper to draw on anymore, decided to use the wall as his canvas instead—sketching a poorly drawn house with a bright red marker. “you’re not supposed to draw on the wall! aw fuc-ahem, freak… your mom’s gonna kill me…”

“gosh suguru, some advice would help!” satoru’s never been so afraid in all his years of living. you’re coming home pretty soon, and he has no idea what to do. he’s already imagining the look on your face–and it’s pushing satoru to the brink of passing out. gojo satoru–the renowned sorcerer who’s fought the king of curses, been sealed away in a box and has had multiple near death experiences–all of these things have happened to him yet none can compare to the fear of facing his wife when she’s angry.

“hmm? what is it, nanako?” satoru can hear his bestfriend trying not to laugh over the phone. suguru knows an easy solution to his problem, but he thinks that leaving satoru in the dark is funnier. it’s rare to see the strongest sorcerer like this, so geto revels in it with pure amusement. “you’re hungry? okay… let’s see what i can make for you, yeah?”

“you heard her, satoru~ one of the twins are hungry. i’m afraid i have to go… good luck about the markers, yeah?” suguru hangs up before satoru could say a word. he curses under his breath, but feels his heart stop when he hears the door unlock.

you’re home.

“mama!” megumi yells, clapping his hands and slowly crawling over to the front door. you happily greet your son, placing the grocery bags on the table.

you walk over to your husband, kissing him on the cheek before noticing the piece of paper that he’s holding. “oh? what’s this?”

you grab the paper from his hands and satoru regains a little bit of his composure once he hears you coo at your son’s drawing. “thought it would be nice for me and megumi to surprise you while you were gone… it’s a drawing of a cat-”

“horsey!”

“...a horse. yup, that’s what i said!” he sheepishly ignores his son’s glare, mentally preparing himself to tell you about the wall.

“i love it! oh my gosh, megumi, aren’t you just a little artist?” you say, ruffling your son’s hair with a big smile. “this is definitely going on the fridge.”

“...there’s one small problem, though…” satoru refuses to meet your gaze.

“what did you do this time, satoru?”

“hey, it technically wasn’t me!” he says, this time being the one to shoot the glare at his son. “so hypothetically…what if i told you that gumi thought it would be a nicer idea to use the wall as a canvas instead of the paper?”

“...”

satoru perceives your silence as his death sentence. “look, i’m sorry! i was trying to figure out what he drew and i forgot that he still had the markers in his hands-”

“satoru-”

“and the next thing i know, he drew on the wall before i was able to take the markers from him-”

“toru-”

“and suguru wasn’t giving me advice either, but then-”

“satoru!” your final yell finally breaks him from his ramble. he’s surprised to see that no, you don’t have a look of murder on your face. in fact, you’re actually smiling—looking more amused than anything.

“satoru, they’re washable markers.” you take a baby wipe from your purse and walk over to the wall, wiping away the bright red marker strokes easily with a few swipes. you’re trying not to laugh at his dumbfounded expression. “did you not know that?”

now he’s the one stunned into silence. “...”

“no, no… i definitely knew that…!”

“yeah, sure you did.”

being a father is so difficult.

[ghouljams]

I am begging on hands and knees please write something about knight Ghost being sick and princess reader taking care of him.

PLEASE

OOOOOH ok maybe not sick, but how about injured?

Ghost hisses as you pull your thread tight, your needle held between deft, if shaking, fingers. You've read about wound treatment, even seen Ghost stitch himself up, but you've never had to deal with it yourself. He hardly looks at you, eyes glued to the pull of your needle through the skin on his side. His arm raised out of your way gives you a clear canvas to stitch, even as the wide expanse of his ribs expands and contracts with every loop. Your fingers are coated in his blood.

He's so firm under your hands. Well built and maintained muscle covers every inch of him. It's a shame to count the scars that litter his torso, or it should be. You have to keep yourself from running your fingers over the soft white scars that cover him like constellations of a life lived dangerously. It's too bad that this is your only moment of pleasure(small as it is) in this whole excursion, and it's coming at Ghost's expense.

"I'm sorry," You tell him for the hundredth time. This whole trip has been a nightmare. Diplomatic your ass, the next time someone needed to visit a warring neighbor you weren't volunteering. And now Ghost is hurt because you were wearing what was supposed to protect him.

"Don't be," He tells you, also for the hundredth time, "it was a lucky shot, won't happen again." You nod and tie off the last stitch. Ghost grunts, letting out a pained breath as you snip the thread, and tries to lower his arm. You stop him.

"I need to bandage it," You remind him.

"Beggars can't be choosers Princess, we gotta get moving." He pushes himself up onto his knees, and you wince watching his skin tug at your stitching, his wound oozing between the looped thread. You're quick to grab the hem of your dress as he stands, finding one of the seams and ripping it. Ghost freezes at the noise, looking down at you from his half stance.

He sits heavily back on the ground to watch you tear a length of cloth off your skirt. Almost curious, his eye heavy on you. He raises his arm again when you reach to loop the expensive fabric around his middle. The blood on your fingers hardly seems to make a dent in it when you see the way it clings to his wound, already soaking dark with his blood. You wrap a few more layers of it and tie off the makeshift bandage.

You stand when you've finished, Ghost's arm dropping back to his side as you enjoy the sway of your much shorter skirt as you do. This is nice, more ladies should wear their skirts at their knees. Ghost keeps his eyes on yours as you stand, unwilling to look at your immodesty. His hand however... His hand grips the back of your calf, slides up behind your knee, rough calloused fingers just grazing the back of your thigh so improperly far up your skirt. Well, up your usual skirt, here it seems he's just dipped above the ripped hem.

"I'm sorry," He rasps. His hand squeezes your soft flesh, enjoying the give of your skin the same way you enjoy the heated drag of his fingers.

"Don't be," You breathe. You keep your hands to yourself, though you ache to touch him. You don't want to sully your precious knight with any more blood than has already been shed. Ghost's hand moves from your leg to hold the tattered hem of your dress. He bows his head to kiss it, his eyes hot on yours. You feel a pang go through your heart, he looks good on his knees like this.

You do your best to control your breathing, school the heat on your cheeks, as he pushes himself to stand again. He leans carefully to grab his undershirt from the ground, and you watch the interlocked planes of muscle over his chest work as he pulls it over his head. His pain is quieter now, short breaths when he moves too quickly. Beautiful, you think as you watch him move.

"There's a stream nearby," He grunts, pulling his bloodied longsword from where he'd thrust it into the earth, "let's see if we can't get you cleaned up."

"I'm alright," You insist, your heart clenching tight at his care. How can he think of you when he's the one that's hurt?

"Got more of my blood on you than I do," He chuckles, holding out a hand for you. You hesitate to take it and his expression softens. "Come on sweetheart," He entreats, "A little blood won't scare me off."

He must be delirious, you tell yourself taking his hand. To call you something so affectionate so casually, as if he's called you that his whole life. You tuck it away in your heart to touch later when you're feeling especially masochistic. For now you let him lead you through the forest towards running water, so you can wash your hands of him before continuing your journey.

[stairain]

Brushstrokes.

You weren’t entirely sure what being Spencer’s muse meant, but it certainly wasn’t what he had in mind.

Warnings: Dom Spencer, Sub Reader, vaginal penetration, foreign object penetration.

WC: 1.5K

You’re not exactly sure why you agreed to this, but you were happy to be a part of one of Spencer’s new hobbies nonetheless.

Your boyfriend had recently taken up painting, and he decided his latest subject and newest project was going to be a portrait of you.

So there you were, sprawled out on your living room couch in nothing but a barely visible slip dress.

He was deep in concentration as his deep eyes shifted back and forth from your body to the canvas. 

“Are muses allowed to talk?”

You ask, knowing he had asked you not to move, but being a human mannequin was harder than it looked.

Spencer glances up at you briefly with a small smile as he paints the curve of your jaw, seemingly in a trance as he creates the image.

“Not really.” 

He was nearly finished anyways, so it wasn’t like you were messing anything up, but he’d never pass up the opportunity to tease you.

“But I think I can make an exception for my muse.”

His gaze slowly lowers from your face as he paints, his eyes lingering on the curve of your waist for a long moment as you readjust your body. 

“For someone who's just laying there, you keep distracting me, in a dress that hardly covers a thing..”

At the teasing tone in his voice, your lips part in a baffled scoff. 

“If I remember correctly, you’re the one who told me to wear this and you’re the one who told me to get in this position.”

His grin only broadens as he sets his brush down and lays it on the nearby table, slowly working over to you and getting right up next to you on his knees. 

Spencer reaches out a paint stained hand to touch your leg, but you jolt away before he can. 

“Hey, you’re supposed to be painting.”

Your eyebrows furrow as you jokingly scold him.

“I’m almost done, I just need to make sure I’ve got the right angles to properly capture my muse.”

He says, continuing his advancements as he runs the tips of his rough fingers along your soft thighs. The feeling has you shivering, as it never did take much for him to turn you on. 

But it doesn't take a genius to figure out that he’s not being entirely honest with his intentions, and you watch through lust lidded eyes as he reaches towards his canvas and work station.

His nimble fingers quickly grasp a clean plastic paintbrush, one with a thicker base that would be used for much larger, and broader strokes. 

With the snap of his fingers, your focus turns back to him immediately, and he grasps your chin in his fingers. 

“Now be a good muse, would you?”

Wordlessly you nod, looking his face up and down for any sign of what that might entail. 

As he lets go of your face and leans back, the hand holding the brush nudges at your knees. They were laid on top of each other as you were still in your previous position.

But that wouldn’t do any longer. As soon as he bumps his knuckles into your legs, you’re spreading them as wide as the couch allows you to.

He maintains eye contact with you as he slowly drags the tip of the paintbrush from the tops of your knees down to the folds of your uncovered sex. Your body jumps at the feeling, but you still lay there pliant for him.

The dark plastic rod swirls against your slick wetness, and despite using the opposite end, he could’ve been fooled if this was its intended use. 

He breaks your shared gaze to drag the brush downward, closer and closer. 

Your lips quiver as he inches towards your hole, and you barely manage to stutter out your words. 

“Y-You’re supposed to be painting..”

Spencer’s eyes snap up to yours immediately and it makes your throat run dry. The corners of his soft pink lips curl upwards, and he looks back down to where your cunt invites him in. 

“And you are supposed to be quiet.”

He says as he sinks the end of the paintbrush into your pussy. With the intrusion, it leaks onto the soft couch beneath you.

You throw your head back against the arm and fight the urge to entirely swallow the brush whole. 

The object, although not nearly as thick or long as your counterpart, sinks deeper into your walls, the cold plastic quickly burning hot with the tight heat that surrounds it. 

Spencer’s got his fingers gripping where metal meets bristle, and watches in a crude fascination as he begins to fuck you with the end of a paintbrush. 

As he pushes it deeper, you lift your head and look up at him, but he’s nowhere close to meeting your gaze.

Instead, his hazel eyes are trained on how every time he withdraws the brush from your soaked pussy, a thick layer of your arousal coated the dark plastic. 

He licked his lips and you could hear just how heavily he was breathing as he pushed it back into your tight slit. 

It sinks all the way into you, without any trace of resistance. He’s careful not to be too rough with it, and it becomes clear he’s not going slow to torture you, but instead to admire you. 

The way your soft walls flutter around the paintbrush as if it were second nature, and the way you’re practically leaking a puddle underneath you. It’s all too much for him to be spoiled with at once.

Under his breath, he curses out gentle profanities. And his unoccupied hand slowly reaches down towards the front of his trousers. 

There’s wet paint on his palm and it smears against light fabric as he cusps the heavy bulge filled in his pants. He gives it a hearty squeeze and lets out a strained sigh of relief. 

Your eyes dart down to his dirty hands palming his aching cock. And your soft lips twitch into a nervous smile. 

“You’re getting distracted..” 

Voice quivering and legs shaking. 

Spencer doesn’t even have to look up at you to know the smug smirk adorned on your face. He simply nods once.

You notice the shining gloss in his eyes, a shine that holds fascination and adoration. 

“Yeah.. You don’t mind, do you?”

You shake your head immediately, as if either of you possessed the immense power it would take to tear him away from you. 

He nods back and gives himself one last squeeze before he removes his hand from himself and places it on you instead.

His thumb finds solace against your inner thigh, reaching out to gently spread your glistening pussy. 

Like a true artist, he studied his subject in the most effective way possible. 

Spencer thrusts the brush in and out of you, stroking it as deep as you’ll take it. The hard tip stamps into your spot repeatedly and your entire body jolts with the intensity. 

“S-Spence..”

You moan out, feeling downright filthy and pathetic that you’re about to cum because of a paintbrush.

The tops of his fingers turn white with how tightly he’s holding the brush, and he’s biting the thin skin right off his lip. 

His thumb moves to rub gentle circles at your clit, the pressure on your sensitive button being what sends you right off the edge. 

As he shoves the tip right against that gummy spot that has you seeing stars, you’re leaking a sticky sweet substance around the rod. 

Your jaw goes slack in a silent whimper, and it’s not a moment too soon before he’s pulling the paintbrush out of you entirely and running his pink tongue along the soaked plastic. 

With pleasure drunk eyes, you watch as he swirls the muscle around until every last taste bud is coated with an essence that’s simply you.

The sight causes a spark in your stomach, feeling downright worshipped with the way he so desperately licked up your release. 

Once he’s sure he’s cleaned it thoroughly, he flips the brush around. It’s a sudden change in sensations when the bristles of the brush tap against your sensitive folds. 

An accident, you think. 

But just when you thought he’s had his fun, he drags the brush against your cunt, collecting the trails of slick that coated your plush skin. 

The substance soaks into the toe of the brush, cascading down each individual bristle like the highest quality of paint. 

And when he’s certain he’s collected enough, he brings the defiled brush to canvas and runs it along the surface, covering each square inch of his painted muse. 

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence as he finishes the final touch of his painting. He attempts to capture the glow and shine of your person the best he could. 

It’s a disgusting and endearing act of artistry, using the essence of his beloved as a smooth varnish to his finished masterpiece that was entirely you. 

[maniacwatchestheworld]

DPxDC prompt #10: Vicki Vale will roast Vlad alive

[Props and credit to @starry-songs-canvas for creating this idea (sorta) which can be seen and read here... Which I then created the inverse of for this prompt thing... Enjoy!]

After the latest story she published, Vicki Vale of the Gotham Gazette needed to lay low. Preferably somewhere that wasn't Gotham City. She knew that she was provoking retaliation by reporting on Gotham's crime families and their latest involvement in city hall, but she didn't care. The truth needed to be known, and her own personal safety was just a small sacrifice that she was more than happy to make for it.

However, the Gotham Gazette couldn't risk having their star reporter getting mysteriously (but suspiciously) killed in one of Gotham's many, many dark backalleyways. So until the heat died down a little, they decided to assign her to a story out of town where she would undoubtedly be safer.

So that's how Vicki Vale of the Gotham Gazette ended up in Amity Park. She was supposed to be working on a fluff piece. This city had apparently been dealing with one hell of a ghost infestation for a while now, and the Justice League had done practically nothing to help this city deal with this problem. The article was supposed to be about the Justice League and underserved Midwestern cities dealing with unusual problems that only the Justice League could solve. So imagine her surprise when she arrived to town and started digging, only to find a few independent parties actually already dealing with the city's ghost problem, containing the ghosts, and keeping this problem from spreading elsewhere.

Foremost, there was a scientist husband and wife duo who were ghost hunting specalists and inventors. Out of everyone dealing with ghosts in the city, they surprisingly seemed to be the best prepared and had the best equipment for the job. In fact, all of the other major ghost hunting groups and individuals seemed to be using technology based off of their designs... (Certainly there was a story there and someone was probably breaking patent laws, but that would have to be a story for another day.) Secondly were the Guys in White- A little known government organization that specialized in the search and study of ghosts and other possible supernatural anomalies. She had been acquainted with them before, however the task force assigned to this city seemed... Less competent than most... Third was an individual ghost hunter dressed all in red who was known to have a particularly personal hatred for ghosts. She would ride a kind of rocket board over town, and rumor had it that she was actually a teenage girl who was attending the local high school and did the ghost hunting on her hours off from school. Out of the groups of ghost hunters in town, she seemed more interested in destroying ghosts rather than capturing and studying them like the other ghost hunters in town. And last, but certainly not least, was the local ghost boy celebrity hero- a ghost who looked much like a teenage boy who was previously known to the town as "Invis-O-Bill" before it was stated on the news that his name was actually, "Danny Phantom." No one knew why the ghost boy had such a keen interest in capturing ghosts and, according to the rumors, returning them to the place from whence they came, but his efforts were well-known throughout the town, and he was largely adored by the city for it- Especially by the younger crowd.

Vicki had decided to do her due diligence and interview these different groups of ghost hunters before writing this story off entirely. The interviews were interesting, but offered very little for her story. There seemed to be a consensus. While the number of ghosts that needed to be captured could be overwhelming at times, and while the time commitment to hunting ghosts absolutely destroyed the possibility of them having any free time, between the Fentons, Phantom, and the anonymous ghost hunter in red- Whom Vicki had decided to dub "the Red Huntress" for her story (a name that the red-clad ghost hunter seemed to like)- they largely had the problem covered. Sure, backup from the Justice League could be helpful and appreciated, but they didn't really think that the Justice League would be well equipped for their specific problem, and they mostly had it handled. In fact, the Fentons and Red Huntress alike seemed to have a particular passion for ghost hunting that they had no interest in giving up for anything!

As for the question of why people outside of Amity Park thought that this was a problem, while the people actually living there didn't... That yielded a more interesting response... For their part, the Fentons and the Red Huntress didn't know where this perception that they couldn't handle the job was coming from (in fact, the Red Huntress seemed to take particular offense to this idea)... But the Phantom offered a very curious response.

"I don't know... Maybe Vlad's keeping the press from talking about it...?"

"Vlad...?"

"Uh... Yeah! Vlad Masters? The mayor of Amity Park...?"

"You think that he's keeping the news from reporting on the successes of Amity Park's ghost hunters?" Vicki asked it as more of a statement than a question.

"Well, I know that he pays off the local papers to make him look good and for me to look bad, so... I guess it's possible...?"

Vicki thought that was interesting. Very interesting indeed. She thanked the ghost for his time and watched as he flew off, doubtless to find other ghosts menacing the population of Amity Park to defeat them.

She let out a heavy sigh. It looks like this fluff piece about how the Justice League wasn't doing enough to help this community was going to be a bust. The ghost problem was largely covered, and she had suspicions that the Justice League knew this and therefore felt no need to interfere. That wasn't a bad thing. And it certainly wasn't enough of an actual problem to be reported on.

As a reporter, Vicki knew when to trust her gut. And right now her gut was telling her that there was something much more interesting going on in this town other than a little bit of neglect from the Justice League. She pulled out her phone and called her editor-in-chief.

"Hey there, Mr. Ito. Yeah, I'm still in Amity Park, laying low. Think that it's safe for me to come home yet?" She listened to her boss reply over the line. "Oh no, no, that's not a problem at all! I just wanted to call because I think that the current piece is a bust... However... I think that I've come across something even better! Think you can get me some info?" She waited for her boss' response. "Of course, of course! I just wanted to check in with you first. But if you wouldn't mind, could you get someone to help me with digging up as much dirt as we can on Vlad Masters, the current mayor of Amity Park? I just got a tip that he may be paying off the papers here. And from what I've seen, I think that there's something more... Suspicious about him. For now it's just a hunch. But there's something here. I just need to find it."

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

oh my god there are so many good choice on the touching prompt list for Ace!Tav and Astarion. But since it’s first numerically may I please request 3?

Summary: You finally arrive in Baldur's Gate and you can't sleep. Normally this would mean taking the nearest instrument and playing until your hands are raw. Luckily for your fingers, Astarion is there to listen.

Prompt: hiding face in neck

Astarion x AsexaulBard!Tav Masterlist

A/N: Hey! Sorry it took me so long to get to this. I swear to god I wrote like five different versions of this thing. Let's give it up for over writing! Enjoy.

Word Count: 1.8K

The night felt oddly still for Baldur’s Gate. You’d traveled so far, done and seen so much and you were finally here.  It should have brought you relief; instead, all you could think about was all you had left to do. There were still the tadpoles to deal with and devils and gods and frankly all the things you’d never given a second thought to the last time you stepped through the gates. Perhaps the city felt it as well, collectively holding its breath for whatever was coming next. 

You let out a deep sigh, staring up at the darkened ceiling. There would be no hope of sleep tonight. The best you could do was find a way to pass the hours without going mad.  

As carefully as you could, you slipped out of bed, mindful of Astarion resting soundly next to you. For all your troubles, they were nothing compared to the horrors coming for him.  You wouldn’t disturb his rare moment of peace for the world. 

In easy strides you grabbed your lute and made your way to the balcony where a comfortable enough chaise awaited you. 

No lamps were needed. Between the moon and the street lamps below, you could see well enough to play for an audience of one. 

You started with something easy, plucking out a handful of scales to warm up your hands. It didn’t take long after that for a melody to form, pushing your worries further and further away. Lyrics slipped their way past your lips in whispers and half remembered hums. You were here. Air moved in and out of your lungs. Your heart still beat. You had control over your body and the sounds pulled from the instrument in your hands. There was still time. The morning hadn’t found you yet.

Soft footsteps approached from behind you; the obvious padding of bare feet on wooden floor boards given just enough extra weight so as not to startle you.  Astarion could be very considerate at times. 

You paused your hands, turning to face him. 

“Sorry, was I playing too loud?” 

“Not at all,” he assured. “How else was I supposed to find you after waking to a cold, empty bed?”

You had to at least smile at his dramatics, which seemed to please him as he stepped further onto the balcony. 

The light of the moon gave his already pale skin and iridescent glow. His silver curls were just a little ruffled from their perfect coif as his eyes held you with a tired softness that made you ache. It was in moments like this you remembered why poetry existed; paints, canvas, marble, clay, they were too clumsy of tools to capture all of him.  

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, pulling you from your musings. 

“Just needed to clear my head,” you said. “Didn’t want to bother anyone with my plucking.”

“Perish the thought. I rather enjoy your plucking.” He nodded to the empty spot next to you. “May I?” 

You couldn’t think of a reason to argue, so you didn’t try. Astarion had proved himself one of the few people you could enjoy a peaceful silence with. So long as he didn’t expect you to entertain him, there was no harm done. 

You scooted over to allow him room. 

He took it, only to pull you against him, caging you between his legs. 

You gave a small yelp of surprise, only just managing to keep hold of your lute. “What are you doing?” 

“Making myself comfortable.” His hands found your waist, pulling you closer so your back rested against his chest while his chin made a home on your shoulder. “Go on dearest, start plucking.”

You snorted out a laugh. Gods above, he really was a cat sometimes. He didn’t ask for attention so much as demand it and in a way only the most heartless could be upset by. 

“It’s rather difficult for me to perform with my back to the audience,” you said as some attempt at protest. 

He gave a noncommittal hum. “I’m inclined to disagree. But if it does bother you, consider me a humble patron observing a rehearsal.” 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”  

Settling back as best you could, you began again, humming a tune to yourself as you worked out the cords. 

A different kind of peace settled over you as he held you. You had come here to be alone, something you had gotten used to over the years. Astarion didn’t have to be here with you, but he was. He chose to sit here in the dark and listen as you played your troubles into the air. It was an alien comfort, one that still left you a little unsure, but it was a comfort nonetheless. 

“I don’t think I’ve heard this one before,” Astarion observed, gently breaking the silence. 

“I would think not, seeing how it’s only been in my head for the last few months,” you teased. 

He nodded as you felt him shift awkwardly beneath you. “Far be it for me to speak on your artistic vision, but is it meant to be so repetitive?”

You stopped your playing as a flush of warmth came to your cheeks. There was a reason why rehearsals were usually kept private. “Sorry, can’t seem to find the ending.”

“Might be easier if you wrote it down,” he suggested. 

“That would require me knowing how.” 

“You don’t know how to write music?” He sounded so genuinely surprised, you had to laugh. 

“Love, I don’t even know how to read it.”

“Really?” 

You shrugged. “Just not how I learned. They weren’t exactly letting riff raff like me into the conservatory.”

You could all but feel the furrow of his brow as his chin pressed against your shoulder. “So every song you’ve ever played, original or otherwise, you taught yourself, by ear, and stored away in that head of yours?”

“You make it sound more impressive than it actually is. Plenty of bards do the exact same thing,” you dismissed.  

He hummed in thought. “Perhaps. It does explain why so many of them don’t seem to have anything going on behind the eyes.”

“I’ll try not to be insulted.” 

“Present company excluded,” he amended, pressing a kiss to the back of your ear for good measure. “Why do you think I’m so impressed? Beauty, talent and brains are such a rare combination.” 

You gave a small huff, earning you another kiss on the temple.

“I’m sure we could find somebody in the city to teach you,” he offered. 

You shook your head. “Not interested. Besides, I’ve found it an effective filtration method. If I can’t remember the tune the next day, it probably wasn’t worth learning in the first place.” 

“Oh darling, who knew you could be so cruel to your fellow artists,” he said, full of approval. “But, what about when a song of yours is done? Surely then it would be worth preserving.” 

“If I’ve done my job well, then the memories of those who have heard it will be preservation enough,” you said. “It’s how all the best songs are passed on anyway. The specifics of who wrote it and when get lost, but the melody remains. It stays in the world because people want it to stay in the world. I think there’s a kind of poetry in that.” 

He let out a long exasperated sigh. “How nauseatingly romantic of you. One little problem though, people’s memories are shit. Give it a few centuries and it will barely resemble the original. At least if you write it down they can’t muck it up.”

“It’s obvious you haven’t met many musicians,” you said, dryly. “People are always going to have their own interpretations. Putting it down on paper doesn’t make it any less a memory. Personally, I’d rather keep it living in the mind than in a stagnant drawer somewhere.” 

“Or I can just make sure nothing happens to the original.” 

He tried to keep his voice light, but there was promise beneath that tingled at the back of your neck. His arms held you a little more tightly. His body tensed. It was as if he was trying to guard you from something, but who or what you could only guess at. 

“Astarion–”

“Don’t,” he said, sharply. “I know you want to say something comforting and I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear you go on about memory or legacy or things to remember after you’re gone, because you’re not gone. You’re here. You’re here with me, and I don’t care who I have to kill or what bargains I need to make, but I’m not letting you go.”  

He turned his face into your neck, pressing his lips against your pulse. To your surprise, no teeth accompanied the gesture. He just breathed, inhaling your scent deep into his lungs. His touch lingered on your skin as some of the tension left his body; the steady beating of your heart calming him. 

“I don’t want memories,” he whispered. “I just want you.”

Your lips parted to speak, but quickly closed. You knew there was a correct thing to say. Letting go was a part of life, whether you liked it or not. Sooner or later, everyone became a memory; but, that wasn’t what he wanted to hear and that wasn’t what you felt. 

The promise he made wasn’t some collection of meaningless words, but a desperate, blood soaked plea. For the first time in so long, you knew somebody would be upset if you died, not for the loss of income or poetry, but because you would be gone. 

You wanted to tell him you loved him. You wanted to tell him you didn’t just want memories either. You wanted to make the same promise and then hide away somewhere safe where the world wouldn’t dare touch either of you; but, you didn’t say that either. 

Instead you placed your hand over his, squeezing his fingers. 

“You have me,” you said, softly. “I’m right here.”

A shuddering breath left his body, as if all the emotion he had been containing was suddenly pushed from his lungs. His arms stayed around you, but his whole body relaxed as his head found a new place to live buried in your neck. 

“Keep playing, my heart,” he said. “Don’t stop.” 

How could anyone say no to such a request? 

Your hands found a melody, different from the one before; something complete and familiar. As soon as the song finished you transitioned to another and then another, never stopping until Astarion’s hold became slack and his breathing turned deep and steady, signaling his trace. Only then did you set down your lute and curled into his arms to finally sleep. 

You would finish your composition another night. The morning would find you, but you had time. Air moved in and out of your lungs. Your heart still beat. You were here and you were going to stay. 

[yonphilia]

‧₊˚☆⋆｡𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓. — 𝑮𝑶𝑱𝑶 𝑺𝑨𝑻𝑶𝑹𝑼 •˚₊‧⋆.

synopsis : you have an assignment due tomorrow, but gojo being the annoying man he is has finished all your paint, it's too late to go out and buy new paint, but gojo has an idea on how you can make your own paint. ˚₊‧⋆.

warnings : 17+ interact at your own risk!! make out session, pussy eating, cunninglingus, chocking, slight breeding, dom gojo, prominant bulge, squirting, porn with plot!?! smut!!

word count : 2.9k ˚₊‧⋆.

notes : f! reader, reader and Gojo are both art students, modern art student au! not proofread! ˚₊‧⋆.

Gojo peeks his head through the door of your shared art studio, his outfit is covered in paint, hair messy and ruffled and even a few drops of baby blue staining his snowy hair, making him quite the eyesore.

"Ah, you're in here?'' He says with a wide grin not really caring about the mess he had made in the studio earlier. The walls were splashed with paint, paint on the floor, a few canvases on the ground and empty paint tubes scattered everywhere.

You snap your head back to him, your hands on your hips as you glare daggers. ''What?'' You mutter looking around at the mess. ''Satoru why can't you ever clean up after yourself? I have an assignemtnt due tomorrow and you finished half the paint!''

A little pout forms on his pink lips, his arms crossed as he leans against the door frame. ''C'mon don't be like that! I was jus' havin' some fun! And plusss we're artists! we're supposed to be messy!'' He replies, trying to hide the sneaky grin forming on his face, he absoulutely loved getting on your nerves.

Rolling your eyes, you ignore his words and kick a few empty tubs of paint to the side, picking up your easle stand and quickly setting everything up with your canvas.

He comes closer to you from behind, placing his hands on your shoulders, peaking at the empty canvas across from you, then down at your face.

"What are you working on?" He asked, sounding quite curious. A small blush appears on his cheeks as he talks, maybe it's from the realisation that he has probably finished half the paint you will need, or maybe it's from how close up he was to you looking at your pouty and pent up expression.

In his eyes you were the artwork.

''That's none of your business.'' You reply shrugging his hands off your shoulders as you open a paint tube, squeezing the left over of the red paint on the tray.

"Ah, that's a shame. I was eager to know'' He takes his hands off your shoulders, and then sits down on the floor, crossing his legs, keeping his calm expression and looking up at you as you get ready to paint.

You look at him with the same 'here we go again' expression you always give him when he decides to make himself cozy around you anytime you were about to do anything that isn’t giving him attention. Although, he never spoke and simply watched you paint (most of the time), the way he is more focused then you can sometimes.. be quite uneasy. Especially with his cerulean eyes.

Throughout the process of making your painting, you lean over to the side table to get some white paint, but to your surprise, you find the first tube empty, and when you look at every other tube of white paint on the table…empty.

Gojo notices you stop painting and how your gaze was fixed on the several empty paint bottles and tubes.

"Oh, was that your's?" He asks, turning his head to you, the same mischievous smile from before creeping up on his lips. He seems proud of himself for finishing all that paint, and he can't hide that fact.

"I finished all that." He says, with a confident smile on his face, running his hand through his hair and getting up from the floor, as if he accomplished something other then making you mad.

''Of course you did!'' You scoff stannding up from your seat to look at the clock to check if there was still time to go out and get paint, but when you see the time reading 10:36pm, you know the shop will close by the time you get there.

You purse your lips out of frustration, pinching the bridge of your nose. ''Satoru get out of my sight, I don't even want to look at you.'' You snarl closing you eyes and turning away from him.

Whereas, Gojo didn't even seem upset or put off by your reaction, instead he found this amusing, and as always, he’ll make the situation worse.

''You're quite the sassy woman eh?'' He says chuckling to himself and approaching you, holding your shoulders to turn you around to face and him and then your wrists to remove your hand from your face.

''Satoru— unless you want me to rip your head off and make white paint out of your hair. Leave.''

He doesn't say anything, instead wiggles his brows at your remark, his hands still holding onto your wrists.

''Satoru—''

''I have an idea.'' He says slowly lacing his fingers with yours, his thumb brushing the sides of your hands.

''What..?'' You arch a brow wanting to hear another one of his 'ideas’.

“Do you want to….ya know…” his lips curve into a cheeky smile as he looks down at you. “Make our own white paint..?” He tilts his head, expecting you to say no, maybe even smack him at this stupid idea, that's if you understand what he's saying.

Your eyes go wide at his question, your brain jumping to all the solutions he could come up with, praying the one you're thinking isn't the one he's thinking of.

But of course, this is Gojo we’re talking about here.

“What- what do you mean…? What exactly are you implying Satoru..?”

Gojo grins, as if he was expecting that reaction. He leans in closer to you, close enough until his warm lips were brushing against your ear, his tone goes into some sort of a quiet whisper,

“You know what I'm implying…” You could almost feel him smirking against your ear. “You know what we would have to do to get that white paint, love”

Your breath hitches as you realise how close you two were, how his strong rich cologne filled up your nose, hitting straight to your core instead of your head, almost making your knees go weak.

“What do you say sweet thing?” He mumbles against your neck, nuzzling his face into it before leaving butterfly pecks everywhere, his arms caging you against him as they wrap around your waist, making sure your body was pressed against his so you don’t run away.

Your brain is screaming at you to say no, to get your assignemt finished, to push him away and ignore him and tell him to go out and buy new paint for you, but that's not what the lady in between your legs wants.

“Just say the word…please” He sounds as if he's almost begging you, as if he wants this more then you.

And, you do, you nod and part your lips to speak, but the nod was all he needed, and before you could even say anything, his lips were crumbling against yours, hands grabbing the back of your head and nape to press your lips against his, trying to mold them into eachother. Tongue lolling out and sliding into your mouth and swirling with your own. He's too lost in the soft and smooth sensation of your lips to even notice that you've already wrapped your arms around his neck.

He holds you tightly against him as he tries to kiss you deeper then he already was, his tongue gliding against your lips before he nips at your bottom one. and pulls away with a string of saliva attached to both your lips, his face flushed and chest heaving slightly, his messy bangs falling infront of his lust filled eyes.

You stare right back at his face, your own lips puffy and swollen from the kiss, your arms still around his neck as your hands play with the hair around his nape.

He leans in starts to kiss your neck slowly, starting on your jaw and working his way down to your collarbone. His tongue licks and sucks at your skin, sure to leave marks, his kisses are wet and sloppy having you feel butterflies in your chest and stomach.

He moves his hand up your body, grabbing your clothed chest, you can feel his warm, soft fingers through your clothing, and he seems reluctant to let go of you just yet.

Pulling away from you neck, he looks up at you almost in a daze, his lips swollen and pouty, the colour on his cheeks darkening. ''Wanna carry on in the bedroom..?''

Here you were, sprawled out so perfectly on Gojo's bed, clothes long gone and scattered somewhere on the ground, your back arching slightly as the cool air hit your nipples. Gojo trails soft kisses down your body, kissing each and every single detail and curve you had until his cool breath was fanning against your exposed core. His teeth nip at the inner flesh of your thighs having your body jerk slightly way from him, but he was quick to hold onto your thighs and pull you back down.

''Let's get you to paint my face hm?'' He says as a smirk tugs at his lips, looking up at you through his white lashes and lust blowen pupils, he had barely even done anything yet and you were already so desperate, bucking your hips up for any sort of attention to your dripping core, your hands going down to press against his shoulders, trying to get him to move already.

But Gojo was a tease, he leaves kitten licks up and down your folds, stopping his tongue right where you throbbing clit was, begging to be sucked on.

''Satoru- please ohhh-''

Before you could even finish your sentence, Gojo was already devouvering you, consuming all your words as his tongue licks and laps at your slit over and over again, feeling and tasting your sweet arousal causing him to sigh contentedly. He was eating you out as if he was a starved man who hadn't had water to drink for days. And the sweet and unholy moans you let out already had him rock hard.

''You're already a whining mess huh?'' He mumbled against your core, sending vibrations straight through you. He was right. You already were a whining mess, your hands tugging at his hair trying to push him deeper into your cunt, his nose nudging against your clit which had you let out the most lewd sounds he has always dreamed of hearing.

''Soooo good!''' you squirm out, feeling your knees go weak from how good he was eating you out. Your head was pressed back into his fluffy pillows, his scent filling up your head making you even more aroused. You part your lips to say something, but only moans and whines of his names slur out of your mouth.

You buck your hips into his drooling mouth making sure he doesn't stop, he groans from how sweet you tasted on his tongue, his hands kneading the soft flesh of your ass hovering below him.

''I'm close- I'm so soo close Satoru!'' You feel a warm sensation bubble up in your lower abdomen as he thrusts his tongue into your soaking cunt having you mewl out in pleasure, your back arching and eyes rolling to the back of your head as your legs start to tremble and jitter.

''T-Toruuu Sa-toruuu!'' You scream out his name in a high-pitched whine feeling the sensation intensify. Your hands clawing at the sheets as your orgasm washes over you, body shaking and jerking, your legs instantly squeezing shut and your thighs nearly suffocationg him as he does not stop sliding his tongue in and out of you.

''T-Too much S'toruu'' you pant trying to regain your breath and shove him away.

Gojo grunts in satisfaction as he licks your sweet cunt clean, tasting every piece of you, feeling your arousal on his tongue making his dick ache as he humps thecovers underneath him.

''Shit...'' You breath out as you look down at him, and to your surprise, he was already looking back at you, his eyes half lidded, cheeks and chin covered in your sticky mess, lips red and puffy as a grin spread onto them.

He licks his lips as he sits up, hand going down to palm his already pre-cum covered dick, never breaking eye contact with you. ''Mhm...think we'll need more paint then that..'' He says flashing you a cheeky grin along with a wink.

You feel your cheeks heat up and look away from him, your hands going up to cover you face in embarrassment.

''Uh uh!'' He says quickly holding your wrists and removing them from your face, pinning them above your head instead. ''Gotta see that pretty face while I fuck you dumb, mhm?''

You whine and part your lips to say something, but the air is knocked out of your lungs once you feel his leaky tip slowly start to slide inside your tight cunt. He groans as his other hand grabs onto your waist to steady himself from collapsing ontop of you from how good you squeezed him. A sharp gasp leaving his mouth feeling your warmth.

''So big!'' You cry you as tears swell up in your eyes, he wasn't even fully in yet and was already stretching your walls out, the perfect veins on his dick grinding against your walls and your sweet spot.

''Fuck- squeezin' me s'good babyyy think I might just cum undone like this.'' With a moan, he tilts his head back and closes his eyes, feeling how deep he was and his tip grazing the spot you couldn't even reach.

Slowly, he starts to thrust into you, his dick stretching you out so good it had you seeing stars and already a babbling mess.

''Toru- so deepppp'' You squirm out as he picks up his pace, his hips starting to hammer into yours as your slick paints his pelvis. You wrists twist and turn in his hold signalling him to let go so you can hold onto something as he fucks your brains out.

Gojo releases his grip on your wrists and places both hands around your waist, strocking your walls with his dick as he presses his hips against yours trying to reach deeper then he already was. The most sloppy and repulsive noises ever heard were all that could be heard by your lower bodies colliding and slamming together.

''Tummy-'' You babble out as your nails dig into his biceps. ''C-Can feel you in my tummyyy''

He looks down at your fucked out expression, your eyes nearly crossing, tongue lolling out as drool dribbles down from your chin. Gojo groans and leans in pressing his lips to yours, you could taste your previous arousal on his tongue and lips. He kisses you messily while hammering into you at the same time, his teeth clashing against yours, spit oozing out from both the corners of your mouths.

His hand goes to wrap around your neck, squeezing it making you clamp down on him while the other goes down to rest on your lower abdomen, applying pressure with his palm until he felt himself.

You pull away from his lips at the new feeling, eyes going wide and nails dragging against his back, your chest arching and pressing flushed against his, instantly feeling light headed as you let out a loud moan.

''C'mon pretty girl, give it to me, I know- fuck- I know you're close mhm...'' He whispers into your ear, urging you to come undone all over his dick. ''You feel that?'' He takes your hand dragging it down and pressing it to where his bulge was prominent in your belly. ''You feel how deep I am huhhh..?''

You could barely form any words, your tits bouncing as he slams into you repeatedly, his hand never leaving your throat, cutting off your air supply which only added to the pleasure for you, your drool smearing down to his hand as he fucked you dumbfounded.

Gojo could feel his own arousal build up, his thrusts starting to become sloppy as he shoves himself into you at an ungodly pace. His mouth agape as he mumbles all sorts of praises to you, telling you how good you squeeze him, how good you're taking him in. He lowers his hand that was around your neck and rubs his thumb in deep circles over your senstive clit to help you reach your orgasm, the hand that was pressing on your lower abdomen remained there.

And it's not long after you're reaching your earth shattering orgasm, your legs shaking violently as you scream out Gojo's name, squirting all over his dick and pelvis, your toes curling and head burying back into the pillows until your vision went all white, your ears ringing and needy sobs escaping your mouth as your arms wrap around his neck holding him close to you.

Gojo is quick to reach his own after seeing the state you're in, his fingers digging into your hips as he thrusts a few times into you before burying his face in your tits, nipping at your skin as he realeases inside you, painting your walls white until both your juices leak out of your cunt.

He pants as he sits up, slowly pulling out of you, his eyes never leaving your cunt that oozed out with cum, he lets out a shaky breath slapping his tip against your folds before smearing his cum along your thighs.

''You think we got enough paint heh..?''

© yonphilia 2023

[shalotttower]

Permanence

Title: Permanence Fandom: Hunter x Hunter Summary: A simple evening at an art gallery turns into a daring decision to slip away from Chrollo's grasp. Word count: 2400+ Characters: Chrollo Lucilfer x Reader Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, exploration of power dynamics, power imbalance.

Tonight you spend in the shower longer than you normally do. There're no tears, no, just exhaustion, both mental and physical that seems to be seeping into your bones deeper than ever. Waiting is the worst part. You don't know whether there will be any kind of consequences after the stunt you've pulled. You don't know if the extent of Chrollo's composure has stretched to anger - and that's after you've tried so hard to keep yourself from pushing him - or it's just annoyance. Which is not ideal, but workable.

It was supposed to be a nice, as much as it can be, evening. Just a walk through the gallery, a little bit of art admiration here, a little bit of talking there, maybe getting some dinner.

After the shower, you sit on the closed toilet lid, naked, and stare at the mirror that's still fogged from the steam. You don't like looking yourself in the eye lately, or rather what you see there. Fear doesn't become you. Neither does hopelessness. Your reflection seems foreign, unrecognizable at times when it should be familiar and safe, a thing you grew up with and are supposed to know by heart.

***

"I want to leave," you whispered when Chrollo put his arm around your waist. Yet another painting by an unknown artist; names that didn't ring a bell and suffering deities depicted on canvas twirled in an odd dance.

He didn't react immediately, so you repeated yourself. Something hinted that you should keep quiet and admire in silence, but something else entirely urged you to push. Perhaps it was too hot. Perhaps too many people were surrounding you and Chrollo's touch felt stifling rather than reassuring.

"Can we get out of here?"

He looked down at you, expression calm, and you could almost call it considering. The hand on your hipbone tightened just a notch, as if making sure you won't slip away.

"Not yet, dear. We haven't seen everything."

A sigh died somewhere in your chest before it got the chance to escape your lungs. "We've been here for over an hour," you managed. And while art usually caused pleasant emotions in you, right now it did nothing of sorts. People brushed past, paying little mind to the couple blocking one of the main hallways. You tried to not fidget under Chrollo's gaze.

Maybe he would've granted your request - who knows? Chrollo wasn't the type to deny you anything reasonable, not after almost four months of compliance - if a man had not appeared right next to you like a ghost out of thin air. You remembered him from a fine dinner, one of many. The memory was hazy, you had a glass of martini at Chrollo's indulgence which proved to be a bit stronger than expected. But the feeling, that sinking sensation of unease you got back then from the man's presence remained. As well as the smell of his cologne, leathery; it lingered behind him even after he left the table.

One look of his dark eyes was enough to make your stomach clench.

And then they started talking.

When you were a child you hated shopping with your mother. Groceries or clothing - no matter. It was not the process itself, but rather occasional encounters with other adults she knew. The chit-chats about everything and nothing could last forever, and you stood there, tugging on her hand to remind about your existence. Can we go? Can we go home, are you finished?

You weren't a child anymore, yet the impression of your own invisibility and being a silent accessory to Chrollo, although he occasionally looked down at you, brought those memories back.

The gallery room was too small. There were too many people.

The nape of your neck tingled.

You wrung your hand out of Chrollo's hold faster than any reasonable thought could stop you. He blinked in surprise, and that was the only time in four months you saw him taken aback for a small particle of a second. Before having a chance to see his composure settle back or properly regret your actions, you slipped through bodies like a fish. Stupid heels of elegant shoes with ankle straps and pointed toe tips hindered your every step. Your heartbeat hammered in your ears as if someone hit them with blunt force repeatedly. The dreadful dress he chose rustled against your legs, black velvet fabric clinging to your thighs when you tried to maneuver between visitors. You wanted to get out. Just to have some air. Just to take a breath.

"Dear," Chrollo's voice reached you from behind, but you didn't slow down. You passed paintings one by one. Saints screaming at your hasty steps and angry expressions seemed to judge you. "Dear." Louder now. People were throwing curious glances at you both.

You did not spot a waiter who stopped abruptly before you with a tray of wine glasses in time.

It was really supposed to be a nice evening.

***

You towel dry your hair until it feels acceptable enough and pull the pajama on, a silky set Chrollo gifted (replaced yours with). It is more comfortable than anything you've ever owned, but still too short on your frame and reveals way too much skin for your liking. He won't let you sleep not in the bed tonight, this much is obvious. The makeshift mattress you've made on the floor is nowhere to be seen just like you expected.

So be it.

Quietly you slip under the covers and turn on your side, facing the window. The sheets smell fresh and clean and there's even a hint of lavender underneath if you focus hard, but right now all you can focus on is getting through this night. Sleep comes quick. Or so you think because when Chrollo lies down next to you, you jerk awake. His body radiates warmth, not close enough to touch just yet, but the knowledge that it'll change soon causes a surge of nausea within you.

He shifts with a faint rustling of silk sheets. An arm comes to drape around your middle like a shackle; you move closer to the bed edge, curling yourself into a ball. It almost seems like you might fall off, and perhaps you will, really, your leg is already hanging in part.

A delicate kiss is placed at the top of your spine, bare where the shirt doesn't reach your shoulder blades. Another one follows on your vertebrae and then he pulls you flush against him. Your heartbeat speeds up and palms become cold; his - is slow and steady, like always.

"You're going to fall off," he whispers.

"Fine by me." You whisper too for some reason, despite there being nobody else to hear you.

There's a soft exhale from behind and his hand begins to rub circles on your tense stomach, lazy motions that go up to your rib cage and down to the belly button. Chrollo's breath tickles your nape and you know that if it wasn't for four months of constant touches, caresses and brushes, you would've pushed him away. Careful conditioning - that's what it is, you're not stupid. Your body knows him, his scent, his hands and voice now, even though your mind screams at them to keep their distance.

He hums when you shudder.

"Cold?" Chrollo asks. One of his fingers traces the hem of your shorts. Your hand comes over it and halts it midway.

"Please stop," you say, and it's the first time since this all started your voice is actually cracking, like an eggshell. Fragile at the edges.

He doesn't say anything but the motion ceases. Slowly, his hand retreats to come rest on your hipbone where it grants you a gentle squeeze.

Chrollo kisses the back of your head.

"Sleep," he tells you.

Easier said than done.

***

The new penthouse looks pretty much like any other you've stayed in – large bed and luxurious decor. It even has a grand piano standing in one of the corners which you have no idea how to play. Chrollo releases your hand and heads into the bathroom while you wander around, poking at things just for the sake of having something to do. A glass figurine of a little ballerina catches your attention. She seems frozen in her sorrowful stance, looking downwards to the ground beneath her tiny pointe shoes. You turn it this way and that, watching light catch on the shiny surface.

The shower starts running.

It's been only three days after the incident in the gallery and Chrollo hasn't commented upon it in the slightest. Maybe he's simply biding his time, you wouldn't be surprised.

Eventually you settle down onto the soft mattress and grab the first random book from the side table. Reading helps. Immersing yourself into fiction distracts from reality.

You thumb through the pages and find out that it's some sort of a romance novel, a period one judging by the writing style. Some duke-like character seems to be enamored with one of his maids but can't do anything about it because of social stigmas. The woman herself is poor as a church mouse yet beautiful beyond words - a bit cliché if you're honest, still there's nothing wrong with it per se, everyone can enjoy their guilty pleasures.

Chrollo emerges from the bathroom after some time, drying his hair with a towel. He moves about the room: unpacking your luggage, hanging up clothes in the closet, etc. Your eyes follow him without meaning to. There are times like this when Chrollo almost feels like a normal person. What he is doing seems domestic enough to trick your brain into short periods of blissful ignorance. Then your gaze falls onto the cross tattoo on his forehead and the illusion breaks like a soap bubble on a sunny day.

You turn another page and read half a paragraph before realizing you've absorbed absolutely nothing.

"What are you reading?" Chrollo sits by your side after he's finished unpacking. His voice is light, almost casual. Almost playful. It puts you on edge.

"Something I found." You close the book and show him the cover. "It was next to the bed."

He leans forward, glancing at the words written on the page. When Chrollo speaks, there's amusement in his tone. "Interesting."

Interesting. What's that supposed to mean? You keep your eyes trained on the text, but try as you might, the words seem meaningless, jumbled. Chrollo rests his hand on your calf. He keeps it there for a few moments before sliding it upward, slowly, toward your knee. You give him a look. "What are you doing?"

"Getting your attention," he responds with the simplicity of someone stating the weather outside.

"You have it. What is it?" It's that type of a stare he gives you that had almost transformed into his personal form of art. One that takes everything in without any effort – from your eyebrows furrowed in suspicion to the corners of your mouth turned downward into a frown.

"You know," Chrollo says thoughtfully. "I've been thinking."

Isn't he always?

He squeezes your leg under your knee, where skin is more sensitive and then you're cornered - right between him and the headboard.

"Your behavior in the gallery, dear. It was rather unexpected," he tells you and the sinking feeling turns into full blown nausea in your throat.

You knew it. Knew that he was going to get back to this, sooner or later. Fuck. "You've been behaving so well these past months and I wonder what prompted this."

Chrollo tilts his head.

"I'm sorry." You reply and shift. "I got anxious."

"Go on," he says when you don't elaborate, not sounding angry or upset, just curious. The warm thumb traces patterns on your knee cap - you hate how Chrollo does this, makes you talk when he could leave you alone and drop the subject.

You have to continue now.

"New spaces isn't really my thing, and yesterday I felt... Pressured. It wasn't intentional, I simply," you shrug your shoulders, "got overwhelmed and acted on impulse. I shouldn't have."

Your voice doesn't crack once and you're proud over that.

"Hm." Chrollo hums but it's neither approving nor disapproving, more like pondering. He moves closer so your knees bump against each other. This is dangerous territory – him being close while questioning you, you know better than to pull back now.

"You're sorry," he says, a strand of damp hair falls onto his forehead. "Are you sorry because you understand what you did wrong," each word is precise as if to drill into your head. "Or are you apologizing because you're afraid of the consequences?"

You stare at his shirt instead of his face. The top three buttons are undone, revealing a patch of pale skin. You want to button them up - knowing him, it's hardly a coincidence.

"Both, I think." You opt for honesty, because lying to Chrollo would most likely end with him seeing right through it, regardless of your efforts.

His frame effectively blocks out everything else from view: up close like this he's handsome, there's no denying it. Dark eyes framed by long eyelashes and soft lips and high cheekbones that make him look like a model out of a fashion magazine. And yet there's also coldness underneath it all, hidden behind those charming smiles and polite remarks. It sometimes gives you an uncanny impression: Chrollo seems frozen, suspended in that state of perpetual calmness, like time stopped ticking inside of his chest.

"What now?" You ask, heart thrumming somewhere deep near the bottom of your rib cage. The book lays forgotten next to you, pages bent after it slipped from your grasp and hit the mattress.

Chrollo cups your cheek with one hand, "Now we continue the evening."

Continue?

The confusion must show on your face because he chuckles. "You apologized," it feels patronizing but you try to ignore it for the sake of getting over with whatever this is. "And admitted your faults. I can overlook a single instance of defiance–especially since you explained yourself so well."

Relief washes over you, making your shoulders sag. You take the book, careful not to let your fingers brush, he seems to like skin on skin contact.

"I expect better behavior next time, dear."

"I'll try," You mutter under your breath.

His hand slips away from your thigh and moves to grab the remote - news, of course, - Chrollo watches news almost religiously every night before going to sleep. "I appreciate when you behave," he adds smoothly. "It makes everything much easier for both of us."

He settles his head on your lap, and it feels heavy, and his damp hair tickles, but you don't dare push him off.

[oracle-of-dream]

Photo Finisher

Minors DNI

Summary: Yechan is from the rookie idol group, 82Majors, and his managers have set him up in the studio to get some amazing photos. But he's heard of your other prizes for good behavior, so he's interested in your other services...

Warnings: Male Reader, Blowjob, facial, degradation, domYechan, cum eating

Wordcount: 1.7k

You spent your morning selecting the songs for the playlist vibe you needed for today's photoshoot. Rookie idols were always tricky to deal with. Most were scared so stiff that they could hardly count as models...

Today, Yechan from 82Majors was your muse. The appointment was a last-minute order from management, and someone must've paid a chunk of money to call you in before noon. It's a part of your contract that you don't have to work before noon without an extra fee determined based on your mood for the day. It was 8am, so you told your boss to push for 40% higher than your usual rate. This usually moved companies away to pick a later time, but your boss immediately texted you back, telling you to get ready.

It was ten minutes before the photoshoot was supposed to start. Your staff set up everything from lights, cameras, software, and canvases. There was murmuring in the prep room, which is the room before entering the main studio, which meant the client had arrived. After some time, likely for hair and makeup to work him over, a young man with brown hair and strong cheekbones entered and greeted you.

"Hello, photographer y/n. It's a pleasure to be working with you, and thank you so much for taking our call so late minute." He bowed deeply.

"Yeah, hi. Just called me, y/n. Photographer y/n is a little much."

The boy nodded. "I-I'm Yechan, from 82Major!"

"I know who you are. I read the paperwork," you replied dryly.

Your morning coffee hadn't kicked in yet... This was going to be an extremely rough morning.

Yechan took his time to go around to the rest of the staff and introduce himself to each of them, handing out small gift bags from his company.

You looked at your phone for the time. 8AM.

"Okay, that's enjoy chitchat. I'm already at 30% on the irritated scale, and being behind schedule will make it jump to 50%."

With your clear directions, everyone hopped to attention and started scrambling to their stations. Yechan hustled off to get his hair and makeup re-touched before stepping onto the canvas.

"Yechan, if you have any issues or questions with the photos, tell me. The one thing I hate more than waking up early is someone who can't speak on issues.

Yechan nodded eagerly and took followed directions beautifully. Every single angle, down to the degree, was perfect. Clearly practiced. Because of that, you managed to wrap up the first set of photos easily.

"Let's take 10 and switch outfits. We're making excellent time, so let's keep the pace up." You announced to the team.

As you went back to your studio chair, Yechan approached you meekly.

"Yes?" you asked without looking at him, more interested in your phone.

"Um... I'd like to ask you about your services, sir." Yechan mumbled.

You rolled your eyes before looking at him. "My services? I'm a photographer. I take pictures. Be clear about what you want."

"Okay, then I'll be straightforward." Yechan took a deep breath before continuing, "I'd like to please you."

You raised an eye. "Please me? I'm happy enough that we're ahead of schedule. You want me to be happy? Keep working hard."

Yechan shook his head. "I don't know if there's some sort of secret code or something... it's honestly a little embarrassing to just say, you know."

You giggled in your seat, finally looking up from your phone. Yechan was a pretty good-looking man. Knows his angles, good body proportions, and a face card that doesn't look like it'll decline with its high limit. You bet he was about 6 1/2 inches, with a left curve. You read that he was from Canada and the brother of another idol, but you can't remember the brother's name...

You sat back in your chair. "Do you mean you want to have sex with me, boy?"

Yechan's face got pink instantly. "Well, they said you were really frank. But I still didn't–"

"So it's a no?"

"It's a yes! I do want to have... s–sex with you."

You smiled. "And what did you have in mind, young man?" The age gap between you wasn't big, but you could tell he was melting from you treating him like he's the younger in this situation.

"I want to do whatever makes you happy."

"So you have no plan? That's not very well prepared of you."

"I'm pretty skilled though! I got a few tricks!"

You smiled bigger. "Tricks? And what if I refuse? Yechan's face turned white. He clearly didn't consider the possibility of you saying no to him. "You didn't think I was some prostitute, did you? That you could just say, sex, and I'll give it?"

He shook his head, "No! Of course not–I'd never think that."

"Then tell me, what would you want? If you can have anything from this."

He looked around before getting closer to whisper. "Um... If I could choose. I think I'd be really into cumming on your face after you suck me off, and maybe I call you a few names and stuff..."

"Oh, that's it?"

He shrugged. "I'm a rather simple guy..."

"Then, simply guy, let's finish this up so we can get busy," you winked at him as you went off to find more of your staff, leaving him alone with a clear boner.

The photoshoot resumed, Yechan in his new outfit. The crop top really complimented his figure, and honestly got you more excited for what was coming. You could also tell he was pretty excited. His cock could barely stay inside his pants, a few pictures had his tip peeking out, and you personally deleted those to save him from the embarrassment.

After the photoshoot, Yechan went into the dressing room to get changed. You dismissed the staff for the night, thanked everyone for being present, and then walked into the dressing room.

"Hello? Anyone home?" You called.

Yechan let out a small yelp, covering himself. "I'm in here!"

"Yes, obviously. I came here to find you." You closed the door and locked it behind you. "I'm here to give you the reward you requested for being such a good boy today."

Yechan's face was red, his shirt and underwear were on, but his pants were still on the floor.

You winked at him, "easy access? For me? How considerate."

"That's not–"

You dropped to your knees and started crawling over to him. "This is your reward, remember? Anything you want goes, but if either of us says stop, we're done."

Yechan nodded, still covering his crotch.

You crawled right up to him, your face inches away from his dick. "Are you going to hide all day? Isn't it your desire to take charge?" You unbutton your shirt, letting it sensually slide down your shoulders, but not taking it off completely.

"So, I can just go?" Yechan asked again to be sure.

"Yep, just–" Yechan pulled your hair and pushed you into his crotch, making you huff his musk. Slightly sweaty, but pretty clean. You could feel his cock throbbing under the thin fabric, 6 1/2 inches, and curved to the left... You moved your hand to touch it, but Yechan slapped it away.

"Did I tell you to use your hands, s–slut!?" He hesitated at calling you a slut. But the submissive look in your eye reaffirmed him. "Use your mouth to take it out."

You maneuvered your mouth to his waistband, nose grinding against his abs, and dragged his boxes down. His cock smacked you in the face as you moved. His balls were heavy and full, he was throbbing like crazy, and even a slight graze earned a guttural groan. Yechan had really been waiting for you...

"Get to work, whore."

You look up at him, still keeping your hands off him as you caught his cock in your mouth and started licking.

"More than that, I don't want you half-assing it. I'm a busy man!" He pulled on your hair, pulling you into him to make you take more.

Yechan was starting to get more into it, which made you want to mess with him. He wouldn't last long if you tried to push him to it, but if he's so busy, then he can handle it. You straightened your back, corrected his hand to move your head and not pull your hair, and relaxed your jaw. Yechan noticed the change in your attitude as he started getting greedy. Pushing you deep, holding you there, all while telling you how much of an attention whore you are. You pressed him more, flattening your tongue and turning off the gag reflex. You were taking over.

"Wait, holy f–fuck," he moaned as he grabbed a nearby table. "Oh, you're so good. So, so, good at this." You squeezed his balls, earning more praise. "My balls too! Fu–fuck, baby just like that. Keep chugging it." He pushed you down, controlling the tempo, making it faster. "Your mouth is amazing, I–I'm gonna fucking cum." He almost whined as you pulled off of him, jerking him off and licking his tip. His pressure was building. Fast. "Please let me cum on your face!"

You giggled. "Say it in character!"

Yechan's words were still fumbling. "I–I will cum on your face?" He questioned before you squeezed his balls firmly. "God Damn," his cum shot out and landed on your face. "My... g–god." He wouldn't stop, pump after pump. It was at last 8 pumps, full of cum, now on your face. Each was accompanied by a thrust and whining moans from Yechan. You stroked him through it all, milking him completely before giving the tip a lick and a kiss.

"All done?"

Yechan breathlessly smeared his cum on your face, using his cock. Pushing it toward your mouth. "I'm sorry for the mess..." He said breathlessly.

You pulled out your phone and took a picture with Yechan. Cock still out and cum on your face, but a little less as you wiped some off. You put the tip back in your mouth for your picture, earning more begging from Yechan.

"P–Please! No more, I can't cum again!"

You help Yechan finish getting dressed and clean yourself up, sending him on his way and adding his photo to the folder with the others...

[yelenasdiary]

Picture Perfect Views

Pairing: Painter! Yelena Belova x Model! Reader

Summary: Yelena is working on a new paining for her new exclusive range.

Translations: Detka (baby),

Warnings: 18+ ONLY! Minors & Men DNI!! Smut, Dom! Yelena, Sub! Reader, Use of Toys, Masturbation, Slight Degradation, Language Warning, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism??, Overstimulation, Squirting, Oral (Reader Receiving) | 0.9K

AC: It’s about time I wrote something for Painter! Yelena!! Enjoy! x

"That's it baby, spread your pussy wide open for me" Your girlfriend smirked while her eyes flickered between your glistening pussy and the canvas in front of her. Her paint brush stroked the canvas to perfection, her brows frowned ever so slightly as she put the sight of you to the canvas. This wasn't the first time your girlfriend had used you as a reference to her artwork, you were her muse in every way. 

"Fuck!" You moaned, one hand holding a bullet sized vibrator to your clit while the other spread your lips wide with your index and middle finger as requested by the dirty blonde haired artist. She loved hearing your whimpers and moans while she painted, she said it helped make sure each stroke was where it was supposed to be. 

It's been a little over an hour of edging yourself at the word of your girlfriend while she painted the way you were spread out on the bed, legs wide open, head throwing back, brows almost connecting with frustration as tears filled your eyes. Your pussy clenched around nothing as it throbbed with the need to be filled, this painting was taking what felt like forever. Yelena started the new painting only two days ago, each day she had you laid on the bed before her, edging yourself as you moaned and whimpered for her to let you cum, even just once. 

"I can't wait for you to see how much of a whore you look for me" Yelena spoke, ignoring the way you slightly squirmed. 

"Baby please!!" You moaned once more. 

"Just a little longer, stay still!" She replied, running her tongue over her bottom lip as she refocused her attention at perfecting the way your pussy looked on the canvas. Every now and then she would mix different colors to get the exact same color of the shades of pink your pussy was, she used thinner brushes to bring out every crease and even thinner to bring out the shortness of your pubic hair that had begun to grow back. Everything had to be perfect, and she didn't care how long it took to get to perfection. 

You could feel your arousal dripping down to your asshole, giving Yelena the exact image she had in her head three days ago. "Fuck baby, I think this might be my best work yet!" She looked at you, sending a wink your way before she paused and put her paint brush down. 

"I c-can't take it anymore!" You replied, throwing your head back, eyes squeezed shut.

"I know baby, you've been such a good little slut for me" Yelena spoke softly as you felt her gently place one hand over the hand you held the vibrator in, "one last thing" she added before guiding your hand to slowly insert the vibrator into your soaked pussy. A loud loud left your lips as you felt the small toy enter you, letting you feel every single vibration through your body. With a small gesture, Yelena moved your hand up slightly, making sure you hit your sport perfectly. 

"F-fuck!!" You moaned. 

"Keep that position baby" Yelena replied as she backed away and sat down in front of the canvas again. Your moans got louder; your legs begged to be closed as you felt your release grow stronger. Yelena was rather quick to add some finishing touches to the painting before turning the canvas around in direct line with your soaked pussy. 

"M'so f-fucking close! P-please let me c-cum!!" 

"Go on darling, finish off my painting" Yelena smirked once more. Even though she didn't say the exact words, you only hoped this was her giving you permission. You finally let yourself go, pulling the toy from your throbbing pussy as Yelena watched you squirted onto her painting. She couldn't help the growing smile on her lips, proudness in her eye as she looked at the canvas. "Look at that detka, isn't it a masterpiece?" she looked to you, placing a soft kiss on your lips, "I'm so proud of you, lay back for me and I'll clean you up" she whispered. 

Your tired state followed her words before she even finished her sentence, laying on your back with your legs still spread open widely for her you let your eyes close peacefully and moaned softly when her lips made contact with your clit. Yelena hummed at the taste of you, "so sweet" she mumbled between licks. Your hand landed on top of her head as you moaned her name, your sensitive pussy already so close to another orgasm. 

"G'nna give me another one detka?" Yelena asked, looking up at you from between your legs. You nodded quickly as you slightly pushed her head back to where you needed her, "d-don't stop!" you replied with another moan. 

Within minutes your hand was gripping a handful of Yelena's hair, your back arched off the bed as you came around her tongue. "F-fuck!" you moaned loudly, your thighs closing in around Yelena's head as she helped you ride out your high. 

Pulling back, Yelena ran her tongue over her lips and smirked, "I already have ideas for my next painting" She winked as she crawled on top of you, kissing you deeply. A soft moan escaped your lips at the taste of yourself on her tongue. Being with Yelena was exciting and it was safe to say you were excited to learn how you would be helping the artist in her next work of art.

Taglist: @red1culous | @bentleywolf29 | @jeyramarie | @lissaaaa145 | @high--power | @parkerdaramitzzzz | @mmmmokdok | @wackymcstupid | @kiwiana145 | @valiantmugcowboyscissors | @observeowl  | @nattyolw | @ripofflizzie | @get-the-fuck-outta-here | @goofy-goonie | @makegoodchoices | @apollo2907 | @marvelfan98 | @wandaroman0ff | @dumb-fawkin-bitch | @lovelyy-moonlight | @santana1437 | @fluffyblanketgecko | @puta1 | @inluvwithfictionalwomen | @tintedrose12 | @jaymieflorissssssss | @tita001 | @youralphawolf72 | @crescent-witch | @randomnessbecausewhynot | @natashamaximoff69 | @a-dorkier-book-keeper | @hehehehannahthings | @secrettoallofyou | @romantic-slaps-on-the-asss | @marvel-fan-2021 | @mmmmokdok | @riveramorylunar | @ripofflizzie | @toldthatdevil | @itsmv3 | @katiemay-025 | @maria-403 | @boredandneedfanfics | @wandamaximoffspuppup | @xox-little-troublemaker-xox | @irishhappiness | @music-4ever | @hyper-fixated-delusions | 

[nescaveckwriter]

Lighthouse

A/N: 🐞... Okayz my dearest love bugs, 💕 another one done for @jacklesversebingo 🥰 yayaness, I know its been a while though, But I hope y'all are gonna enjoy this one, I must say I'm super proud and, a little terrified as this is 'Supernatural' based 🫣🤭, so let me know what y'all think.🥰 Okayz much love🥰❤️🩷

Warnings: *18+ Only* Horror, Thriller, Mentions of blood, violence, angsty, little fluff, heartbreaking, drama.

Line: Tree, Clock, Rope

Characters: Dean x Fem Reader, Sam, Benny, Cas, Crowley

Words: 6700 😱🫣 I know I'm sorry.

Cover & Pictures: Pinterest, Canva, Google

Side Note: Please check out my Masterlist for more, epic stories🐞💕

The sky has turned into grey, dark clouds threatening too cover the earth with its darkness, the smell of rain is everywhere as it nourishes the earth, as you stand under the pouring rain, listening too him say, goodbye, letting the rain mix with the tears on your cheeks. Not being able too move a muscle, you just stood there unable to make a single sound, unable to ask him why, why after this long, did he want to break up with you, did he want to throw away the life you built. Weren't you enough for him no more,? Is there someone else? Why Now?

The way he said goodbye wasn't with a voice filled with anger, no, his emerald green eyes was sad, his voice almost breaking when he said "I need too let you go sweetheart" and his lips found yours instinctively, it was a soft, kiss, mixed with the taste of him, salt and rain. You didn't want him too leave, you wanted to grab ahold of him, and beg him too stay, but before you could, he got in that Chevy Impala, the engine roared and the tires screeched, as he drove off into the darkness, not a single star in the sky, its almost as if the magic of the moonlight left with him.

Its been a little over three months since he left you standing in the rain, like some dumb country song, but you somehow found a way too move through your everyday life, you were a hunter before you met Dean, and you still are, well in all honesty saving people is the only thing that got you through the days.

It isn't really a job you tell everyone about, oh heck no!, its more a work you keep too yourself, letting your family believe, your just a traveling failure, well you always did kind of feel like you lost your way over the years, but these days your numb. Your best friend Sam doesn't even talk too you anymore, you don't really have a lot of folks who you could call, and say "hey, ya know I'm not really doing well, I need a pick me up or a damn hug" no you always kept too yourself, not trusting anyone, but the day you met Dean and Sam on a hunt it changed.! Sam quickly became your best friend and well Dean soon became the only man you'll ever love, even though he had his issues. And then there was Castiel the angel, he has always felt like a beacon of hope, making you laugh with his "I don't understand that reference" sayings. But the day Dean walked out they all left, leaving you completely alone in this damn scary world. It's not the monsters that scares you, no that you get, but it's the people. Every single person you have met in your life has a hidden agenda, why can't they just be good people.

Sitting at the diner in the small town, were you were investigating strange disappearances, ordering a black coffee, the display with the different pies catching your eye. Your mind wanders off to Dean's birthday... You prepared all his favorite foods, burgers, bacon, fries, the greaser the better, and then you started with the making of his favorite pies. But somewhere along the way you forgot about the pie's in the oven, letting them burn to a crisp, after you rushed in, trying to save what's left of the charred goods, seeing it was disaster, you wouldn't be able to save it, you burst into tears, cussing yourself for messing up what's supposed to be the perfect day, you felt his strong arms pulling you towards his chest, staining his shirt with the wetness of your cheeks. He's breathe hot as he kissed you, in a loving, comforting way, reassuring you everything will be okay, it's just pie's not the end off the world.

He always did know how too comfort you, how too chase the darkness away, he was your lighthouse, so to say, showing you the way, back too the light. And now, now there's no more light too go home. No more home, just nothing.

Taking a sip of the now cold bitter coffee, that kind of taste like, old shoes, not that you'll know how that would taste like, but betting its something like this. Placing the cup down, sliding the dollar's underneath the half full cup on the diner table, you get up, throwing your ball cap on, hair hanging loose on your shoulders, taking your leather jacket and phone, you start too head out of the small town diner.  Walking towards your Harley Davidson, you've always liked the way, that bunch of metal, felt roaring as you sat on that leather seat, the wind rushing through your hair, the way those gas fumes, flowed through your veins, not even to talk about the adrenaline that went with it, oh damn, you felt about your Harley like Dean felt about his impala. Seeing a giant creep checking out your bike, leaning on it, irritation in your voice "excuse, what are you doing?"

His voice rough and unpleasant "why do you care, little missy"

Walking closer, your eyes darker than usual "that's my bike"

The bald man, with his long beard, hiding his tatted neck, started to laugh "No way such a small little thing can handle that sort of horse power"

"I'm only going to ask you nicely one more time, get off my damn bike!"

Crossing his arms in front of him, "Or what? You gonna call the little cops"

"No! I'm going to make you get off my bike"

"I'd like to see you try missy"

She really wasn't in the mood for this. So she tried to shove him off, but he was on the larger side and didn't really move a single damn inch. It just made him irritated "hey come here missy" he said as he grabbed a hold of your arm, you smiled, that made him look at you all confused, but he soon realized, he should not have messed with you, as you took his fingers, and started bending them backwards, bringing the big guy down to your size. With your free hand, you punched the sucker in the face. Got up on your bike, and drove down the road too the nearest bar you could find, for information and while you where there you might as well get something to drink.

The Black Chevy Impala roared as it parked in front of the diner, Dean and Sam got out, a big guy, with a black eye, just got off the ground as they started making their way towards the door, Dean looked at the guy a smirk on his face "What happened to you buddy?"

The man mumbled "crazy biker chick"

Dean just laughed, as he figured this chick was probably part of his gang, as the beaten up guy had a biker jacket with their logo on. He still smiled but he felt stabbing pains in his heart. His sweetheart was a 'biker chick' a swell, she could handle that roaring horsepower better than most men, and man!, was she tough, so fierce and fiery, so passionate and yet so gentle, vulnerable at times, so fragile, she cared more than most, people, and beautiful, so freaking beautiful, her smile could light up a room, he fell hard for her the first time he saw her, and it just grew from there he loved her , he still loved her, but he just had too walk away, for her own safety, everyone close too him get hurt or dies. And especially with everything going on, he couldn't risk it, if someone found out, that she wasn't just another hunter, no she was the love of his life, he'd never forgive himself if something would happen too her. Sam calling his name for the fourth time pulled him out of his deep thoughts, "Hey man, you with me?"

"Yeah, yeah, just thinking I need a drink not coffee"

Sam gave him a sympathetic smile, knowing his brother probably thought of her again, he just nods and says "okay sure let's go"

The only information she got was that, some of the missing folks were last seen close too a pig farm , on the outskirts of this town.

And now, now she just sat here swallowing the vodka, it was easier than too think that Dean aren't coming back, hating how she felt , how alone and miserable, how heartbroken, she really thought that she was stronger than this, but no, she's weak and pathetic, sobbing about a man, a damn man who left her in the pouring rain. What the hell was wrong with her, she never was the kind, to be good little wife material, who would cook for her husband and bake brownies for her children's school, but the sad truth was she wanted too be all that with Dean, she would've gave up hunting, too be his wife and the mother of his children. But clearly he didn't feel the same. Thumbing away a stray tear, she gestures to the bartender , for another. The music was loud and the alcohol made her slightly lightheaded, she knew she needed some air, sliding off the barstool, walking towards the exit, fumbling in her pockets for a packet of cigarettes, she only smokes when she drinks. Some guy, lit her cigarette, she just nods, thanking him with a smile as she stood in the crisp evening air, the air mixed with nicotine hit her lungs, letting a little cough escapes her lips. As she blows out the smoke, she heard that damn Chevy pull in, she couldn't miss it , Dean had a certain way if driving and it was him for sure. She just stood there, frozen in the darkness. "What the hell is he doing here" whispering underneath her breath. Hoping that he doesn't see her, knowing that she will burst out in tears the moment she tried to speak too him.

He wales past a couple of bikes, that's when he saw it, her bike, hard too miss it, on the rear bumper the lyrics of her favorite Bon Jovi song. He elbows his brother "Sam, she's here"

Sam looked at him shocked, "What? Are you sure"

Running his hand over his face "Of course I'm damn sure" clearing his throat "I can't see her, man, I just can't, I've missed her so much, it was hard enough too walk away from her that night, I won't be able to do it again"

Sam places his hand on his big brother shoulder "Don't you think, this whole protection thing your trying is dumb"

Dean's jaw clenched, "No, Everybody around me dies, and there's nothing I can do about it, I have to let her go"

Sam just shook his head, his known his brother felt like this for a while now, but it's gotten worse, his unsure why, but he will try and get through too him, Dean's only been happy, whenever he was with her. "Okay let's go"

Dean and Sam made their way towards the car, they're about to get in when they heard a spine chilling scream , Dean recognized her voice. He searches in the darkness, when he catches a glimpse of four men, throwing her in a black van. He didn't even realized it but he started running towards the van, as the last of them jumped in, he saw a glimpse of her, the last thing he heard, was her screaming his name and a gun shot, which brought him to a stop as he fell to the ground, chanting her name over and over, until his eyes fell closed.

Sam fired his gun towards the van, but couldn't get decent shots from that angle. He fell to his knees next to his brother, glancing at the bullet wound in his chest, the blood gushing out, he applied pressure on the wound, he could feel the life draining from his brother as he begged Castiel to come. Sam's eyes damp with tears, his heart pounding in his throat, a silent scream escaping his lip "Cas, please man, I need you Dean need's you"

You could hear the flutter of wings, when the celestial being landed, his face struck with concern "What happened?"

Sam glanced at the man in the trench coat, holding his brother in arms, "please, just help him Cas"

The angel approached his best friend, there was nothing quite as bad, as seeing him, in pain, placing his hand on Dean's shoulder and Sam's, the three men found themselves in a motel, Dean was still unconscious but breathing, Sam glanced at the angel, mouthing a "thank you"

Traces of the tears still evident on her cheeks as she recalled Dean getting shot, he was there, running towards her, he stilled cared. The four men watched her like a hawk, she cradled her legs in the corner, as if she's a animal trying too hide herself from the prey.

The van came to a stop, she knew something had to be done, so she took the knife she hid in her boots, covered it in her hand, she knew taking all four men was asking to much, so she'll have to isolate them. Take them one by one. The men double, maybe triple her size, but she aren't going down this way, without a fight.

As the two men , opened the door, she saw what looked like a barn, there where cages, with other people inside, seeing she's not the only one that needed saving, she slid the knife back in her boot. She needed more information than this, so she went with it. The man held her by her hair, threw her into a cage which had two other girls probably about round about 16 and 18, and much older man, in his late 60's maybe. Hitting the the floor, scraping her palms.

The older man helped her up, "you okay?"

"Yeah thanks never been better" the sarcasm rolled over her pressed lips.

A big guy, came standing against the cage, with a stupid smug on his round face. "When Ricky there told me about this little woman, who punched him, just for leaning against her bike, I knew I had too throw you in the ring"

She got to a standing position, striding closer, too this gigantic man, "What are you? A human trafficker , organ? What"

He laughed "None of the above, just a business man," he started walking away.

"What is he talking about?" Her eyes intensified "Does anyone know why we are here?"

She heard a man's voice coming from another cage, he was beaten pretty bad, "We are here too fight against each other, like the movie Condemned, apparently it happens in really life" he let out a defeated laugh. The whole barn filled with chatter, people gasping for air, as the initial shock took over. Those who haven't seen the movie, quickly got enlighten by those who have, the rich of the rich, places bets on the person, who they think will survive and it gets streamed on the dark web for everyone to watch.

There's a clock with a timer and the one who have killed all the other 'players' in that amount of time, gets to live another round. Some just cried, the others just quietly, sat in the corners of their cages, holding on too their knees, as if that's going to help, everywhere in that barn there's cages filled with silence and then those with chatter.

Then in the cage she's in, the two young teenage girls just hold on too each other, clinging for dear Life. The grey old guy, just kept mumbling too himself, "I can't kill these people" over and over.

Probably not the most polite thing in this situation but damn, it worked on her nerves, she's trying think of a solution, a plan something to save these people. But she was all out of ideas, to be honest, except maybe one, her back was against the cage, she silently started to talk to Cas, asking him to come and find her, but nothing, he didn't hear or he didn't want too, either way it was up too her.

Glancing down at the ground, then her leather boots she remembered the knife, she could use that too unlock the cage door, then start freeing the others, she took the last bit of hope in her hand, starting to put the blade in, turning and wiggling it, until she heard the click sound, she was overjoyed, she slowly opened the screeching steel door, every noise sounded as loud as thunder.

She could see the different keys, close to the barn entrance, almost walking on the balls of her feet, so that she didn't make a single sound, reaching for the keys, her fingertips barely touching it, she jumped into the air, grabbing ahold if it, she started making her way towards the first cage. Searching for the key that fits, the barn doors flung open, she recognized the guy, Ricky from earlier, and some other dude, who made her skin crawl , "Hey how'd you get out?" Ricky shouted.

"What you can see me?" She joked, something she always did, when she was very nervous.

The other guy ran to her, but she kicked him before he even could touch her, she still had the knife in hand, this big fella didn't say, much, he charged towards her, when that silver blade touched his arm, it made him squirm, "Oh that's just freaking lovely, what are you, a vamp? A wolfie?" She sneered

The moment he showed his, teeth she knew it was a werewolf, the other folks in the cages screamed, as they never saw such a creature.

"So this games rigged? Normal human being and creatures from the night, joining the game"

Surprised the wolf looked at her , a growl "your a hunter?"

Mischievous smile on her lips "why would you say that?" The wolf growled once again, as he charged towards your position, clawing your back, as he flung you against a cage, everything is swimming before her eyes, all you could make out was that she was flung against the beaten up man, he had the bluest eyes, which kind of reminded her about Castiel's eyes.

The wolf like creature came closer, looking for your blood, that's when the man stood up, black coat drenched in blood, unsure if it was his own, or some of the creature's his killed, the last time, his blue orbs, illuminated, bloodshot veins stretched like a roadmap in his eyes , his fangs came out revealing that his a vampire.

Laying there, you where left at the mercy of these two, but you were surprised when the vamp, took ahold of the wolf, smashing his head against the bars, he had this deep old time southern voice "leave her alone"

The man, glared at her and the vamp, picking her up, letting her sway like a sack of potatoes in the air. Ricky quickly came to open the cage, throwing her in by the vampire, "You can have her".

Knowing the open wounds made the situation worse, as it was like a magnet for the vamp, she tried too get up, too defend herself but, in that moment she was too weak.

The vamp, came closer towards her, his features returned to those of a man, his voice kind "I'm not going to hurt you, I'm Benny"

Shocked "Benny, like in Benny Lafitte? Dean's friend?"

He smiled, "I thought I recognized you, saw you once on his lock screen, asked him about this new women in his life, he told me you are the love of his life"

Smirking, "Yeah that's awhile ago I guess"

Confusion written all over his face, but before he could ask, the barn filled with gas, hearing Benny say "its to knock us out so they can take us to the next location" before you could find out more, the knock out gas started taking its toll.

His eyes flutter open, Sam and Cas both sharing the same concerned facial expressions, his voice croaky "what did something happen? Is.." struggling to form the words "is she gone?"

Sam spoke quickly, trying to reassure his big brother "No! We don't know, Cas can't pick up her location"

 Cas spoke "Wherever she's at, must be warded off with sigils"

Dean groaned when he sat up, "we have to save her, I can't loose her"

The three of them turned their heads when they heard the familiar phrase from Crowley "Hello Boys"

Dean immediately got up, pointing a finger at him, "Do you have something to do with her disappearance, tell me now!"

 Crowley gave him a sympathetic look, that lasted about an second "Squirrel I had nothing to do with her, but I know where you can find her"

Dean could not control the anger that intensified in his chest, he smashed Crowley against the nearest wall, his arm pressing against his throat his forest green eyes pierced the black ones, his voice low, and stern "Crowley if your messing with me, I will kill you, I swear I'll kill"

 With the flick of Crowley's fingers Dean flew across the room, he shouts, this whole situation clearly upsetting him as well. "She saved my damn life, why would I want something to happen to her, she cared enough to save me, ME!!!" Crowley shouted.

Sam hurried to help Dean up, recalling the saving Crowley is talking about, he was stuck in a devils trap, bounded with chains around his hands and neck, as some other hunter took out all his anger on Crowley, stabbing him over and over, when she came in, tried talking the man down, but he didn't see any reason as he thought Crowley was to blame for the death of his family, but he wasn't, he had nothing to do with it. As she was talking to this guy, she slowly started  to scratch the round red chalked circle on the floor with the heel of her boots, so that Crowley can break free, the line was finally broken, by clicking his fingers the chains shook loose and fell into a thousand pieces, the other hunter saw what she did, ran towards her, pushed the blade right through her upper torso. That's when Dean and Sam ran into, her for the first time, they where hunting the hunter who they thought was possessed but turns out he had such an amount of rage inside him, that whom ever got in his way, he'd kill.

Dean's harsh voice pulled Sam out of his thoughts, "Where is she Crowley"

"Well not only her , but other people as well, even Werewolves and vampires, you named it they have it, I know the location, but we have to go now," he clears his throat, "there's only one snag, neither can I nor Cass get in their, the damn sigils on the barns wall, wont let us through"

Dean's already halfway across the room, towards the door, "what are we waiting for"

In a matter of seconds the four of them stood In front of the barn on the pig farm, Sam is busy discussing a plan of action but Dean, already pushed the barn doors open, "what the hell Dean" the loudness in Sam's voice makes Dean face him, but he just shakes him off, not answering, too determined to safe her, he walks in, gun in hand, ready for anything, everywhere you look, all the cage doors stands open, not a single trace of anyone, something glistening on the floor catches his eye, its a rose gold chain with a heart shaped locket, he didn't need to turn it around, to see the engraved 'love you always D.W' to know its hers, he opens it anyways, glaring at the picture, both off them laughing, the way they looked at each other, you could feel the electricity, the love they shared, he folds it closed in his fisted hand, his eyes damp with emotion. He runs outside, punches Crowley straight in the face. Cas takes ahold of Dean's arm's demanding him to stop. The defeated look on his face is too much too bare for the three men looking at Dean, disappointed and unsure where to look next they start looking around the farm for clues, for something that can give him a glimpse of hope.

The strong sunrays, burning her eyes, as she opens them, the pain from last night's fight, let's her realize what's happening, she tries too move, but can't, searching for the reason, she sees the rope wrapped around her arms, and waist, too a tree, she tries too wiggle, to get out off the tight grip, that's when she hears a ticking of a clock tick-tock, tick-tock, it sounded incredibly loud, looking up to where the sounds came from, seeing giant speakers blaring the sound of a clock. A rough unpleasant voice spoke, game rules: "Everything goes, you can use any weapon you can find, to kill your opponent, and also remember the last one standing gets too live" he lets out a snotty laugh. "Oh yes, and contestants, we made the first kill very easy, if you can find contestant five, she's tied up and ready to kill, oh and give us a show" he laughs harder, then all of the sudden its dead silence, figuring she's contestant no: five, she'd better think of something to get out if this situation. Her words barely a whisper, "I don't even know why I try, but Cas are you there, Crowley, can someone hear me? Please I need someone"

The rustling of the leaves, let's her know there's someone, maybe it's Cas or Crowley, maybe its someone's who wants to take her as their first kill.

The large man with his black coat walks towards her.

He's voice hushed, "let me get you outta here"

"Oh darn, I'm so thankful its you Benny"

As he unties her, they hear rustling in the bushes, he hands her a knife, and they stand ready for action, back against back, three people came closer, it's the three she shared the cage with, she and Benny suggested they walk behind them, so that the two of them can protect them.

The further they walk the more danger they seem too run into, Benny takes the most werewolves, windigos and Leviathan's , as for you, you take most of the other human beings, who wants to attack the two teenage girls and old man.

You are bruised, beaten and torn up, unsure if your body is covered in your own blood or those of the enemies, you keep on going, grateful, that you had these people to protect, because if you had to be honest, if it weren't for them, you wouldn't fight so hard to survive, every now and then you get flashbacks of how Dean got shot, knowing it was fatal, you don't want to allow yourself to think that he could be really gone, there's this glimmer of hope that he might still be alive, maybe Sam helped him, maybe Cas or Crowley.

 Resting against a tree to catch your breath, you see the blood gushing down your arm, one of the men came at you with a damn axe, and in the fight he threw the axe towards you, pinning you against a tree, it must've been the adrenaline but you wiggled that axe, out of you arm, screaming while throwing it back at him, which ended up between his eyes.  You fell too your knees, the emotion welling up behind your eyes, you get caught off guard when someone or something picks you up in the air. A little weak, and confused all you can see is that your draped over the large man, with multiple tattoos shoulder, it didn't take long, too lose consciousness.

Dean could not believe what he just heard, both Cas and Crowley told him, that they heard you call out too them, they knew where you were, you where caught in Purgatory, damn Purgatory. What the hell is going on. It felt like someone took his very last breath. His been too Purgatory, It's no joke for sure, it changed him, the only person who made him whole was her, his sweetheart and now, now she's going through all of that.

Crowley spoke with his people, which revealed, that the one and only Dick Roman sits behind it all, with a connection in the real world, who takes normal people, of all ages just to make money, and feed his obsession of killing people.

His quiet, as he drives too the place where the portal opens to Purgatory, thinking about all the things there, so many monsters, dangers around every corner. He just hopes, his going to make it in time, she just has too be okay, has to be alive, squinting his eyes as he recalls what he had too do, too survive.

"Sweetheart you awake?" Rolling over too the right side of the bed, emerald green eyes looking back at you, "Baby?"

"Why do you look so surprised sweetheart"

"Uhmmm I'm not really sure, it feels so right yet so wrong" she smiled

Without a single word, Dean cups your face, places his lips on yours, its sweet, it's sensual, yet filled with passion. Breaking the kiss, you look at him, studying his face, the speck of hazel around the black pupil, the way, his freckles runs across his nose, almost like the milky way, the corners of his mouth, that is slightly curled in a smile, his plumps lips, that's slightly swollen from the kiss, the little stubble on his chin and cheeks, the way his jawline just kind of frames his picture perfect face, the way his deep smoky voice fills the air, and your body with a exhilarating energy, "Why are you looking at me like that?" He asked.

Your voice barely audible and brittle, "I just love you, I love you more than life itself"

 His voice calm, but certain "Marry Me"

Your jaw dropped, "What?"

He started to kiss your lips softly, his breathe hot as he said "Yes babe, I want you to be my wife?"

Searching his eyes your lips crept upwards into a smile, your voice sounded more brittle than you intended "Yes, yes Dean Winchester, I'll marry you"

The joy dancing in his green eyes, made you happy, even though a few stray tears rolled over your cheeks.

Feeling like your walking on cloud nine, then all of the sudden, you get this sharp pain in you ribs, unwillingly your eyes flutter open, gasping for air "what the hell?"

Looking around you, seeing your in some kind of room, chains around your wrists, hanging from what looks like the ceiling, clothing blood-soaked. Hair sticking to your face, sweat mixed with blood. Your feet barely touching the floor, it feels as if your arms is getting pulled out of their sockets if you move to much, your throat dry, realizing you must've been passed out, it wasn't really a dream, more like a memory, Dean did ask you too marry him, and then outta nowhere, two days later, you where left standing in the rain, the tears streaming down your face, unsure if it's about the way Dean left things, or the situation your currently thrown in.

Sighing, whispering to no one really "I'm tired, I'm so tired, I can't anymore and I don't want to anymore" head hanging down, looking at the floor, closing your eyes, wishing all this could be over, you heard heavy footsteps, laughter filling the dark air.

His voice smooth "All this turned out better than I could've imagined"

Confused you glare at him "okay, fine you win, get it over with"

Walking closer towards you, big smug on his face, "see, I can't deal with you yet, I know who you are" getting angrier now "I'll finally get my revenge, Dean will watch you die, he wanted to send me here, now I will take something precious from him"

Shocked to hear that he thinks Dean is still alive , she plays along maybe, it's her way out, Scoffing "Well sorry to hear you think he'd be coming to look for me, because we aren't together no more"

He laughs, "oh no, he is already here, searching for you, my men left him a little bread trail, as to where you are"

Furious now, you shake, trying to get loose, shouting "You leave Dean alone, kill me , but let him go please"

Clapping his hands together, "Ah, young love" he laughs harder "I am going to kill you, but Dean needs to watch, then I'll kill Sam, Cas and even Crowley, all while Dean has to watch"

Eyes wide, barely audible "They're all here"

His smug smile never leaving his face "oh yes, all of them, clearly they care, its so pathetic, you humans, you know that?"

Squinting her eyes, trying too fight the tears threatening to spill over, you care about all of them, more than you care to admit.  He just simply walks out of sight. The silence is deafening, the only thing she can hear is her heart racing, Dean's alive, he came looking for her. Somewhere between the excitement of hearing Dean's alive and the spine chilling silence, she lost consciousness.

 They hardly had too beat the crap out of some of the men, on their road to this half torn down, factory like building, all of them agreed, it felt like a trap, but Dean didn't give a damn, he needed to find her, save her and bring her home, he has been cursing himself internally, the whole damn way, if only he didn't freak out, but the moment he realized he wanted to marry her, be her husband, wishing he never said that, went on that hunt, saw how that ghost threw her against the wall, the pain she must've felt, he couldn't bear the thought of her getting hurt or worst getting killed, just because that's what he did, so saying goodbye, felt like the best thing to do, hoping she'll give up hunting, but he should've known better. He should have stayed by her side, he should have discussed his fears, the way he felt, but instead he went and broke her heart.

The four of them split up, there's to many halls, and doors too search, mostly the halls are filled with darkness, its filthy and disgusting, dried splattered blood on the walls, scattered human bones on the cement floors. There's scratching sounds coming from one of the rooms, the gun in Dean's hand is loaded, opening the door, unsure of what he's going to find, he's skin crawling as a bunch of rats, runs past him, some over his feet, slapping against his legs, whispering underneath his breath, "damn filth". He's heart, beating out of his chest, the more he walks in the darkness the more he can feel the darkness entering his mind, his heart, every grain of his very being.

He stopped in his tracks, the moment he saw her, hanging by chain's, her whole body is slumped over, hair covering her face, he can't make out if she's still breathing, for what felt like an eternity, he froze, almost too afraid to take a closer look. Striding closer till he's right in front of her, he gently takes her face in his hands, concern painted on his face, a burning pain in his chest, her beautiful face is bruised, and bloodied, her breathing faint, but still there, his voice hushed "Sweetheart, can you hear me"

Watching her open her eyes, was a beautiful site, she looked tired, a smile across her busted lips, "Dean,"

"Yes sweetheart I'm here, I'm sorry, I love you" he declared.

Sobbing now, "I... I thought I lost you forever"

"Baby, you'll always have me, always you hear me" he pleaded

Before she could answer a couple of men appeared out of the shadows. There were maybe six or seven, Dean got up, in a fighting stance ready to beat the crap out of them, he started punching and kicking his way, through the men, it wasn't until the last one hit the ground that he'd stop, blood splatters across his face, glancing over at her, he hears the familiar voice of Dick Roman "crashing the party are we?"

"Yeah well I didn't receive an invite so thought I'll invite myself" Dean smirked. He drew his gun, knowing it won't really help, but it's more a habit, "What do you want?" He questioned

Crude laughter fills the air, "I want you to pay Dean" he snapped his fingers, more men came running towards Dean, he tried his best, but he was one against, all of them, they over powered him, one clocked him against the head, in his unconscious state, they were tying him to a chair with chains, facing you.

It didn't take long before they were beating you, biting your lower lip, not wanting to give them the pleasure of seeing you in so much pain, you could taste the blood on the tip on your lip.

Dick Roman came walking towards you, dagger in hand, hoping he couldn't see the pain, and fear in your eyes, your eyes pierced his, he didn't say a single word, he pushed that dagger, through the skin and bone, wedging it between your ribs. Your scream filling the dark room.

Dean's eyes flung open, he's jaw clenched, he's voice angered and defeated "NO BABE" he shouted.

"Ah poor Dean Winchester" he laughed

Dean's green eyes, now almost black, "I'm going to kill, I promise you that"

Laughter filled the air, once again, it didn't last long though, surprised he glanced at them, Sam, Cas, Crowley and Benny, all four off them stood their bloodied and beaten, but ready to fight. All four of them started fighting and killing their way towards Dean and you, Crowley was the first one to stand next too Dean, his British voice almost inaudible "This belongs to you" he's face lit up with a sly smile.

Dean looked at him all confused, "I thought you threw this in the sea somewhere"

Crowley just shrugs his shoulders. The moment he placed that blade in Dean's hands he could feel the mark, turning a fiery red, the power pulsing through his veins, it didn't take long for the effects to take control of him, breaking loose out of the chain's, he faces Dick Roman, a smirk on his lips, he's features darkens. Taking that blade right too his chest, he kept going over and over, not stopping for a second, driving the blade further and deeper into his now lifeless body.

Sam tried to make him stop, even Cas, Benny and Crowley, but it didn't work.

Your voice brittle, revealing the pain, "Dean stop, please Baby"

Immediately stopping, he threw the blade down, running towards you, his eyes pleading, his voice soft "Sweetheart I'm so sorry" cupping your face, kissing your lips, holding you close to him, as Cas and Sam unlocks the chains, your body went limb, all you could feel is his hands holding you upright. Staring into his emerald green eyes, mouthing "I love you" the last thing you catches a glimpse off, was the light in his eyes as he replied "I love you too, Sweetheart, come back to me, come home please"

 It's been almost three years since that dreadful day, smiling now, if it weren't for Dean begging Cas to save you, you wouldn't be here baking your husband his birthday pie, getting ready for the barbeque, with your good friends Sam, Cas, Benny and yes even dear old Crowley.

Did you and the Winchester Brothers stop hunting, no, of course not, but the two of you have each other and that's all you'll ever need, whenever your lost, knowing Dean's your lighthouse showing you the way home, with those beautiful green eyes.

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

Love Me, Anyway

Pairing: EddieMunsonxReader

Request: Joseph may have always grown up dreaming of having children and being a great father to them, and he plans to propose to his long-time girlfriend soon, just in time for her to find out that she will never have children because of a health problem related to her, and she decides to leave him, even though she loves him very much, thinking that she cannot give Joseph the life he wants.

Trigger Warnings: Infertility

You dragged yourself up the stairs of your apartment complex, each step feeling like a journey of a thousand of the most difficult miles of your life. Your body was a balloon and you were trying to keep all the air inside. Your arms wrapped around your stomach as if you could hold yourself together, keep yourself from falling apart. The news you’d received an hour ago had been a deep and crushing blow to your soul.

You failed. You were a failure, broken, incapable of doing the one thing that a woman was supposed to be able to do, that women had been doing since the dawn of time. Your entire world, the future you’d envisioned for yourself, crashing down in an epic, heart shattering explosion before your eyes. A piece of yourself was gone and you would never get it back. You’d failed yourself and worse than that, you’d failed the person you loved more than anything.

On autopilot, you dug in your purse for your key but when you inserted it into the lock, you were surprised to find the door was already unlocked. Shit. That could only mean one thing. You couldn’t do this. Not yet. You’d been hoping to drown in your misery, sob in silence where no one could hear you, prepare yourself for the inevitable second heartbreak, the one that was going to shatter your heart into a million pieces that could never be repaired again. 

The briny smell of garlic and the tang of tomato fills your nose as you push open the door and enter your apartment. Jack Johnson’s ‘Better Together’ plays over the speakers in the kitchen as you catch sight of Joe, his back to you as he stirs sauce in a pot. Just the sight of those brown locks, curling gently at his neck, those broad shoulders underneath a cream sweater. Not just any cream sweater, your favorite one, the one that feels like you imagine a fluffy cloud would feel under your fingers. 

“And all of these moments just might find their way into my dreams tonight. But I know that they'll be gone when the morning light sings,” Joe sang softly as he swayed, pouring the contents of the saucepan into the skillet. 

He always said he couldn’t sing, that no one would want to hear him. But that was a lie because you loved to listen to him. His voice was your favorite sound in the world, usually so soothing, a balm to your soul. But tonight it was like torture, a voice that hissed in your ear, reminding you of all the things you couldn’t have. That picture the two of you had painted, the plans you’d made, the future you’d longed for, it was all gone. A blade had been taken to the canvas, shredding it until nothing was left and you were going to lose everything that mattered to you in a matter of hours. How would you ever survive such unimaginable loss?

Joe would never stand in this apartment again after tonight. He would never cook another meal for you, the two of you would never spend the night cuddled up on the couch watching movies, you would never tumble into bed with hands desperately grabbing for each other. This was the end. No happy ending for you. No prince whisking you off to your happily ever after. Your story was going to end painfully, brutally, and you had to accept that because you couldn’t do this to him. You couldn’t deprive this man you loved so much of the one thing he’d always wanted so much.

“Joe…” you said softly, three small letters, one syllable that your voice struggled to make.

The pan clanged as he spun around, his hand coming up to his chest, “Jesus darling, you scared me.” He laughed, his hands finding your arms, pulling you in, tucking you into the safety of his chest. Your cheek ran over the soft material of his sweater, your nose breathed him in, trying to absorb every minute detail of this moment that could be your last. “I was trying to surprise you with dinner but you surprised me. I didn’t expect you home so soon. Don’t you normally get off work at five?”

“Yeah,” you managed, unsure how, his arms the only thing that was keeping you from sinking to the floor. “I had an appointment today so I left early.”

“Appointment?” Joe pulled back, hands gripping your biceps, chocolate button eyes full of concern, concern that only fractured you that much more. “What kind of appointment? You didn’t mention anything. Is everything alright?”

“No…I mean, yeah…I mean, everything’s fine,” you lied, your eyes closing as you inhale slowly through your nose. You had to stay strong. You had to hold yourself together just a little longer, enough to do what you had to do, and then you could let yourself crumble. “It was just a routine appointment with my gynecologist. It didn’t seem worth mentioning and I didn’t expect to see you today.”

“Well, I didn’t say anything because I wanted to surprise you.” Joe releases his hold on you, leaving you cold, slipping under, into the darkness, desperate for his arms again. He waves his arm toward the stove. “I am making puttanesca, your favorite, and I got us a great bottle of wine.”

“Fancy. What’s the occasion?” you mumbled, your hand grabbing onto the counter, bracing yourself. You were drowning, flailing, struggling to keep your head above water. 

“You,” he mused with a lopsided smile, his hands locking around the small of your back. Soft, plush lips brushed over yours so gently that you had to swallow down the tears that were fighting like a flood raging against a dam. “You’re the occasion, my love. You’re always the occasion. Do I really need a special reason to have a romantic evening with my girl?”

“No…of course not…”

“Have a seat and relax. I’ll make you a plate and pour you a glass of wine.”

Just do it, you told yourself. Get it over with. Rip off the band-aid and let the wound bleed. It would only be harder if you allowed this romantic evening he had planned to continue. Better to just do it. He would leave. You could fall apart and Joe would have the opportunity to move on with his life, to find someone who could give him everything he’d ever wanted because it wasn’t you. It couldn’t be you. Not anymore. You were broken, defective, and this man deserved a woman who was whole. 

Your brain may be on board but your body was not. Your feet took you to the table, your knees bent as you sat in the chair. Your heart was desperate for one more evening, one more dinner, one more moment where it could pretend that everything was okay. Where it could gaze upon that perfect face, the face you never tired of looking at, and know that it was yours. Just a bit longer and then you would let him go because it was the right thing to do. 

Joe set your plate down in front of you, the pasta dish looking delicious, but your stomach twisted violently. You didn’t think you could put anything in your mouth right now, bile rising up in your throat. Shit. Were you going to be sick? No. You swallowed it back. Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth, inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth. The urge dissipated and you sighed in relief, picking up your fork, moving the food around, hoping he wouldn’t notice that you weren’t actually eating. 

“How was your meeting?” you asked, hoping it would get Joe talking because you didn’t trust yourself to say much. You were hanging on by a thread, a breath away from completely coming undone. 

Joe took a sip of wine, grinning widely, “Really well. Really well. I am excited about this project. The script is amazing, really dark and unique. It’s a real psychological trip. Great fun but also mind fucking in the best way. It’s different from anything else I’ve ever done.”

“Good, I’m glad. I know you’re trying to have a really diversified body of work.”

“I am. I don’t want to get pigeon holed, you know? If you’re not careful in this business, you get typecast. I was worried after Stranger Things. Don’t get me wrong. That was great fun. I loved the cast and crew on that show and I am so grateful for the doors it opened. I wouldn’t have the opportunities I have now if it weren’t for that role but the way it blew up, the love the fans had for Eddie…it just concerned me that I wouldn’t get taken seriously as an actor. But I feel like I’ve done a good variety of roles now that have shown the range of my skills.”

“You have,” you mumbled into your glass, taking a long drink of your wine, willing it to calm your nerves, to relax your muscles. “When will filming start?”

“In four months,” he answered, mistaking the look on your face, thinking it was concern about him traveling for work. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ve been through this before. I’ll fly back when I can and I’ll fly you in to visit. Filming will probably take a little over three months. Besides, I predict you could be quite busy while I’m gone.”

You looked up at him in confusion, “What do you mean?”

Joe’s lips pressed together for a moment and he suddenly looked nervous. His head tilted to the side, those beautiful lips curving into the sweetest smile. Leaning forward, elbows resting on the table, those soft brown eyes meeting yours. 

“Darling, I love you so much.” A weight so heavy it was going to crush your heart slammed into your chest. “These past two years have been the most amazing year of my life. I can’t imagine doing any of this without you. I want you by my side always. You make me better. It’s been so hard knowing who I can trust, who is genuine but never with you. I know you love me. You don’t care about the fame or the money or any of the celebrity bullshit. You just want me. You’ve been my safe place. You’re my home and I know, without a single doubt, that you always will be. You’re the person I want to come home to. You’re the person I want to sleep next to every night and the face I want to see when I open my eyes every morning.” 

He rose from his chair, coming around the table to stand in front of you. Your heart hammered in your chest, blood rushing so forcefully you could hear it whooshing in your ears. Joe’s hand slid into his pocket, revealing a small velvet box and you whimpered. No. This could not be happening. Not now. Not today. 

This beautiful man lowered himself to one knee, opening the box and presenting the most beautiful, simple princess cut ring to you. Emotions lodged in your throat, strangling you, cutting off your air supply. Your eyes widened, hysteria taking over. Hand clutched at your shirt, pulling it away from your body as you tried to tell yourself this wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening.

“I knew from the moment I met you that night at the pub that you were my forever. I told Wes I was going to marry you one day and I don’t want to wait even one more moment to start the rest of my life with you. Darling, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

“I…oh god…Joe…I…this is…what…” you stammered, tears flooding your eyes and spilling down your cheeks. 

Grief as you had never known crashed down over you like a tidal wave. This man, this beautiful, wonderful, perfect man was asking you to spend the rest of your life with him and you couldn’t even if it was the one thing you wanted more than anything in your life. You couldn’t do that to him. You couldn’t condemn him to a life that was lacking, a life that wasn’t what he wanted. You couldn’t stand to see resentment in his eyes years down the road, resentment directed at you because his life wasn’t what he’d pictured. You were going to drown in this grief, the tidal wave pulling you out to the deepest depths of the sea. 

Joe chuckled nervously, his thumb running over your cheek, collecting some of the tears, “I hope these are tears of joy that you are shedding, sweetheart.”

“Joe…” 

The word was a plea, a grief-stricken cry, a desperate sob and then your shoulders were shaking. Your body folded in half and Joe’s arms were instantly around you, pulling you to him. You slid off the chair and down into his lap. His breath was warm against your ear, lips brushing over your cheek. 

“Darling, what’s the matter?” he questioned, his voice panic-stricken. 

“I can’t,” you cried, shaking your head, your face buried against his neck. 

All you wanted to do was stay here, in the safety of his embrace, surrounded by his warmth and comfort, but you couldn’t. You had to do this and you had to do it now. You pushed away from him, wiping your eyes and rising to your feet. Joe followed, standing in front of you, hands reaching out but you backed up before he could grab you. 

“Love, what is this? What’s happening?”

“Joe, I can’t marry you,” you rasped, body trembling as you fought back the tears, fought to regain control of yourself. 

“What?” He stepped forward and you stepped back again. “Why the hell not?”

“Because…” What reason could you give him that would make any sense? There was none. There was no reason in the world why you shouldn’t marry this perfect creature. No reason you should be causing the pain that was etched onto that beautiful face. “Because it wouldn’t work, Joe. There’s no way this works.”

“Why not?” he demanded, his hand closing around the velvet box, squeezing it so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “Is this about my work? I know my job is…different. I have to be away sometimes but we’ve made it work so far.”

“Joe, I know but it doesn’t work for a long term marriage. I need stability. I need someone I can depend on to be here. I…” You were lying through your teeth but you knew you had to make it hurt if he was ever going to believe you. You needed him to walk away because you weren’t sure you were strong enough to do it. “I need someone that I can trust.”

Joe reeled back as if you’d slapped him, “And what the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re always traveling. You’re always surrounded by these beautiful women. Your co-stars and the models you’ve done shoots with and the fans that throw themselves at you. How am I supposed to sit at home all the time, wondering what you’re doing?”

“When have I ever given you cause to doubt me?” he pleaded, his hands open in front of him as if begging you. If he didn’t stop, you were going to give in. Your heart couldn’t handle this.

“It’s only a matter of time, Joe. What celebrity has ever had a successful marriage? You’re a man. You can only resist temptation for so long. It’s inevitable.”

Those eyes that were usually as warm as a cup of coffee turned ice cold and you knew you’d succeeded. You’d broken the two of you, shattered it irrevocably, just like your heart. Joe would hate you. He would despise you for thinking such things of him but that’s what had to happen if he had any chance of being happy in the future. 

“That’s what you think of me?” he hissed, stepping back. “You really think I’m capable of doing something like that to you? You doubt us so much that you can’t see this working? You think we’re doomed?”

“I do,” you insisted, lifting your chin in defiance, putting on an air of strength and resolve that you didn’t have. “Joe, this has been fun but that’s all it was. That was all it was ever going to be.”

With two long strides, he stepped into you, tilting his head, eyes boring into yours, “Bullshit.”

“Wh…what?” you gasped.

“Bullshit. I don’t believe you. You just told me you love me. Fun does not last for two years. I’ve felt you, darling. The way you kiss me, the way you cling to me when we make love, the way you want me,” he growled. His nose brushed along your forehead, moving down your cheek and you shuddered. “I’ve heard you, the things you whisper in my ear while I’m inside you, the promises you’ve uttered while we lay in bed. That’s not fun. That’s forever.”

“Joe, I…please…” you begged, eyes slipping closed when his hand slid under your shirt, splaying over the skin of your back. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“Make what harder? Your bullshit break-up? The lies you’re telling me?” His lips molded to yours and your own responded, betraying you, instantly recognizing and wanting him. His forehead pressed against yours with a smile. “See? You love me. So, what is this really about? Why are you trying to destroy a really fucking good thing?”

“You don’t want me,” you cried, eyes slipping closed, tears creating trails of heartbreak down your cheeks. “I can’t be what you need, Joe. Trust me. This is the best thing.”

“Why would you say that? Why would you even think that?”

His arms were around you again, crushing you to his chest. His chin rested on the top of your head, the insanely soft sweater caressing the skin of your cheek. The sweater you were currently soaking with your tears, probably ruining with your smeared make-up but Joe didn’t seem to notice or care as he held you. His grip was like iron, keeping you from pulling away, as if he could stop you from leaving. 

“Darling, I want you with every fiber of my being. I have never wanted anything more than I want you, the future we have planned together, the life we’ve dreamed of. You are what I need. You’re all I need. I can’t do this without you.”

“But I can’t give you that future. That dream is nothing but that, a dream, if you stay with me.”

“What are you going on about?”

A sigh of defeat rushed from your lips, knowing you would have to tell him. There was no escaping this. You’d thought you could anger him enough to make him walk away but he’d called your bluff and it was time to put all of your cards on the table. You pulled back as much as you could, tilting your head up to look into his face. 

“That doctor’s appointment…it wasn’t just a routine exam. I missed my period. I didn’t think much of it because my periods have always been irregular. But then I missed another one. I thought I might be pregnant but I’m not…I never will be. I’ve also been so tired lately. I’ve had trouble concentrating at work. They ran some tests and I have primary ovulation insufficiency. I don’t ovulate. I can’t have kids, Joe.”

His lips parted, eyes widening in shock. There it was. Now he would know. He would understand. Joe would agree with you. The two of you had dreamed of a future with children. He wanted at least three, a big family. He wanted to be a dad so badly and you couldn’t give that to him. Of course he wouldn’t want you. 

“I’m defective,” you whispered, attempting to pull back from him but he simply held on tighter. “I’m broken. You don’t deserve that. How can we be together when I can’t give you the one thing you want more than anything?”

“The one thing I want more than anything is you,” Joe stated, one hand sliding along your back to cup the back of your neck. “I am so sorry. You went through all of this alone? Darling, why didn’t you just tell me? I could have been there for you. I would have gone to the doctor with you.”

“How could I tell you? You’ve made it very clear that you want children, Joe. You have always dreamed of being a dad. You’ve gone on and on about all the things you want to do, the experiences you want your kids to have, when you’re a dad. I knew I was going to lose you if the test didn’t go my way.”

Joe’s face scrunched and you fought the urge to kiss his nose, “Why would you lose me?”

“Joe, are you even listening to me?” you groaned.

“I am. I’ve heard everything that you’ve said. I didn’t fall in love with you because of your ability to give me children. I fell in love with you because you’re perfect for me. You’re everything I could have ever wanted, everything I’ve dreamed of. If we want kids someday, there are ways. We can always adopt.”

“But they wouldn’t be yours,” you argued.

“Of course they would be. Genetics are not everything, sweetheart. Love is. There are so many kids out there who need loving homes, need someone to treat them like the most important person in the world. And we would. You will be an amazing mother, if that’s what you want.”

“I do. I just…I feel like such a failure. My body is incapable of doing the thing that essentially makes me a woman.”

“The ability to birth children does not define who you are,” Joe stated, shaking his head. “Your strength, your kind heart, your beautiful soul…those are what makes you who you are. Anatomy has nothing to do with that. You are the most perfect person I know. There is nothing defective about you.”

“You still want me?” you asked, hardly daring to believe it, terrified the rug would get pulled out from under you the minute you allowed yourself to.

“Of course I do. Darling, there is no one else for me but you,” he asserted, pulling the ring from his pocket once again. “Now, can we try this again?” He opened it, holding it out in front of him. “Would you make me the happiest man on earth and marry me because you are my absolute everything?”

You looked down at the ring and then up into the face of the man you loved. Your friends rolled their eyes when you gushed about how perfect he was but it was true. There was not another man out there who could hold a candle to Joe and there would never be another man for you. 

“Yes,” you grinned, nodding. “Yes!”

“That’s the correct answer,” he laughed, one hand grabbing onto your waist, pulling you in for a soft, sweet kiss. 

“I love you so much,” you whispered against his lips. 

“I love you too and we are going to have the most amazing life together,” Joe breathed, sliding the ring onto your left hand. “You and me forever, darling.”

“You and me, forever,” you agreed, wanting nothing more. 

[jazminrhode1]

Love your writing! Can I request something for Matt based on the redecorating Matt’s room prank? Like reader helps with the prank? If not, no problem, love your account

Thanks For Watching Sturniolo Triplets x Reader One Shot

Summary: You help the boys prank Matt’s room for a video.

Notes: Swearing (minimal)

“Matt?” you call out as you walk down the hall toward his room. He wasn’t supposed to be there. You had come over to help Nick and Chris with a room prank. His room was empty, the coast was clear, except for their fucking washing machine.

You make your way upstairs to Nick’s room where he and Chris were waiting for you. “Finally,” Chris said when you walked in. “Y/n’s here,” Nick said to the camera, “it’s time to prank Matt’s room.”

“Most of the stuff’s in my car,” you said. You were way more excited than you let on. You had spent weeks getting customised items to completely re-do his bedroom. He was gone for another fake meeting with Laura but, you only had a small window to pull it off.

As you started opening the boxes that you had brought up to Matt’s room, Nick and Chris were acting like two kids at Christmas. They didn’t know just how much stuff you ended up getting and they didn’t know half of it would be custom.

The plan was to cover the room with pictures of Nick and Chris but, you went a little overboard. You had customised bedsheets, pillow cases and a blanket with their faces on it. You also got t-shirts printed with pictures that you found on their joint instagram. There was a huge canvas you hand made with a family picture from when they were little and a stack of photographs to stick on the wall if you found the time.

Nick made the bed, Chris cleared the closet and you started sticking pictures on the wall. 

“What’s wrapped in the sheet?” Chris asked when he came back from hiding Matt’s clothes in his room.

That was what you were most excited about and worried that you might not pull off. Chris got excited when he saw the thrill in your eyes. “Close your eyes,” you told them as you unwrapped the surprise.

When they opened their eyes they were face-to-face with two life sized cardboard cutouts of themselves. Nick screamed and Chris fell on the floor laughing. “You are fucking kidding,” he said.

“Matt is going to have a heart attack,” Nick said as he took a snap and sent it to Madi.

“I’m keeping mine,” Chris said, looking it up and down.

“Come on, Matt’s going to be back soon,” you said as you finished sticking the pictures on the walls.

Nick had used a few to replace the ones in Matt’s picture frames. The only one he left was the one that Matt kept of you and him on his desk.

“This room is something straight out of a nightmare,” you said as you looked around. “This is fucking great,” Chris exclaimed in excitement.

“Are we done?” Nick asked as he closed the last picture frame. “I think we are,” Chris said as he sat on the bed.

The room was a complete disaster. Everything had gone to plan.

Pictures of Nick and Chris’ faces were on the bedding, on the pillows, on the blanket, on the walls, on his t-shirts in his closet, and in his picture frames. There was not an inch of his room not covered in pictures of his brothers. The thought of this was a lot funnier than the final product.

You heard the front door close just as Nick picked up the camera. Chris got in position with his phone, he could barely contain his excitement. You could hear Matt calling out for Nick and Chris, you swore he started heading upstairs. After a few minutes, his shoes cast a shadow beneath the door and you saw the handle turn.

He jumped when he opened the door. You weren’t sure if it was because you were all in there or because of the monstrosity you had created.

“What the-?” Matt said in shock quickly followed by, “Hey y/n.” He stepped into the room and pulled you into a hug. As he scanned the room, the pictures on the wall, the life-size cut-outs of his brother, he kept his arm draped around your shoulders. 

“Did you help with this?” he asked you. “Sorry,” you replied.

“The pillows,” he noticed, pointing. “Oh my god you’re on the sheets,” he exclaimed.

“Do you love it?” Chris asked, mockingly.

“I can’t tell is this is awesome or a nightmare,” he replied as his eyes darted around the room.

Nick started laughing. “Look in your closet,” he instructed.

Matt’s face dropped, “No…” he said as he slowly slid the doors open.

When he saw all his clothes were gone and replaced with t-shirts that had his brother's faces on them, he said, “You guys are not real.”

“What do you think?” Nick asked, shoving a camera in Matt’s face. “Is this better than the Liam Neeson prank?” Chris asked.

Matt was still taking it all in when he said, “Fuck no! The other prank was funny. How am I supposed to sleep here? I’m gonna have nightmares.”

Chris burst out laughing. This was the exact reaction that he was hoping for. “Blame y/n,” he said, “she got all this stuff.”

You took a few steps back from Matt when he turned his head to you, “it was Nick’s idea” you said. Nick didn’t care. This was the content he was looking for.

“Is anyone going to help me take this shit down?” Matt asked as he pulled a picture off the wall. 

“Nope,” Chris replied as he picked up his cardboard cut-out. “They’ll fall off eventually,” Nick said. They both started walking toward the door but, Matt rushed over and held it shut with one arm.

“Let us out,” Chris demanded. Matt was not going to budge. “Let me out,” Chris threatened. “Or what?” Matt replied.

Chris took his cardboard cut out and started swatting at Matt. Matt started swinging back, grabbing Chris’s cardboard head and ripping it off his body.

With the pair of them fighting in the background, Nick said to the camera, “Thanks for watching, we’ll see you all next time,” before he ended the vlog.

It wasn't often that you got to do stuff like with the boys but, man was it fun.

[alcoholfreenayeon]

chaeyoung loves to draw we all know that... but what about her drawing fem!reader while having sex...

i need her so bad

Masterpiece

Content warning: NSFW, Chaeyoung x Fem!reader

A/N: LITERALLY ONE OF MY THOUGHTS. Like of course Chaeyoung would want to do that. I can also see her trying to draw (bratty) reader while reader is eating her out🤭maybe I’ll do a part two on that🙈

“Why don’t you just stay still…ugh”, Chaeyoung complains.

You don’t answer back, you are too busy trying to control your breath. It’s not easy when Chaeyoung has 3 fingers inside you.

Chaeyoung playfully rolls her eyes at your silence and uses her free hand to pick up a pencil and begin her sketch. You didn’t know how she got it in her head but all of a sudden Chaeyoung said she wanted to draw you while the two of you had sex.

Granted, it’s not the craziest idea ever but it’s a lot of work for everyone involved, like, Chaeyoung has to fuck you and draw you at same time while you have to be absolutely still. How does that even work out??

You’re thoughts were abruptly interrupted when you felt your stomach tightening, each movement of her finger felt so very intricate, like you are the canvas and she’s painting you. Your hips begin to buckle and you gasp as you throw your head back.

Chaeyoung smirks, knowing what’s about to happen and drops her pencil and reaches out for your neck, lightly choking you with a firm grip.

“Ahn, this won’t do y/n. How am I supposed to do my work properly when you keep thrashing about like this. I only have two hands you know”

You can only squeal as your release feels like it’s on the brink. Chaeyoung’s fingers inside you, her thumb on your clit, her other hand around your neck and her looking over you so smugly, all of that is proving to be too much. Or so you thought at that point.

“Hey, your not trying to edge yourself are you?”, Chaeyoung asked, lightly gritting her teeth. “This much is usually enough.” She tightened her grip on your neck and tried to wiggle her fingers in deeper. “I want you to cum for me y/n.”

That’s, when you lose it, her redoubled efforts have an immediate reaction as your breath gets sucked in, your hips buckle up and your knees go limp, you can’t make a noise but you don’t know if it’s because of the sudden burst of pleasure or because Chaeyoung is gripping your neck harder, maybe both.

The next few moments go by in a flash, you can’t really recall what happened other than your orgasm and Chaeyoung’s smug expression. You don’t feel her hand on your neck anymore but her fingers are still inside you. Panting, you look at her and she’s back to drawing.

Taking a deep breath and sighing, you close your eyes and quietly moan as Chaeyoung’s fingers are back to working their magic.

“Shhhh”, Chaeyoung chides, “let me concentrate”

That slightly annoyed you, how quiet is she expecting you to be? You are trying your best. Or you were until that moment. You stay quiet for a few seconds and then let out a loud moan and purposefully thrash around a bit.

Chaeyoung sighs and then glares at you with slightly narrowed eyes. “Ahn, that’s how you want to play.” She drops her pencil and puts the paper away. “You really are too energetic for a poser. But it’s not a big issue, I think after 5…or 10 orgasms you’ll be much more still”

Hearing all that makes you a bit anxious but before you can respond Chaeyoung clamps her hand on your mouth. “I think you’ve made enough noise for now”.

It didn’t take too long for you to cum after that, you were already some way there but Chaeyoung being stern with you just seemed….right and sent you over the edge quickly enough. But of course, Chaeyoung didn’t stop there and kept continuing working her fingers which were probably really wrinkled now after being inside you for this long.

Feeling sensitive from having cum twice in a small amount of time, you felt euphoric but you were starting to feel something that transcends it. Each thrust and movement from Chaeyoung’s fingers felt electric, like they were literally shoving surges of pleasure in you. You wanted to say so many things to her right now if you wouldn’t be screaming your head off that is but with her hand clamped so tight on your mouth you couldn’t even squeak properly.

Breathing shakily, you try to focus on your lover who was now looking at you like a crazy scientist who was watching an experiment take place.

You felt your tummy tighten as an all to familiar feeling started to take place yet again. You so badly wanted to call out Chaeyoung’s name, scream it actually since she was all you could think about in this moment. The way she’s staring at you, the way her fingers are filling you and the way her hand feels around your mouth, god you just wanted to lick her hand.

Your thoughts disappear when Chaeyoung thrusts her fingers in harder than usual and keeps pushing like she’s trying to go deeper even though her fingers are as deep as they can be. Your walls convulse and contract repeatedly as you cum again.

At this point you couldn’t even catch your breath. The feelings were too intense, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it would burst out of your chest. Your legs shaking, hands gripping the bedsheets, cheeks flushed. Chaeyoung finally removed her hand from your mouth and slaps your tits playfully.

“You’re lucky I like you. Now, you’re going to stay still right?”

You weakly look at her, unsure what to say as you are still recovering and are functioning slowly. However, she has already gone back to drawing, thinking you’ll be calm now.

And you were, not by choice thought really, you felt numb so it wasn’t that hard to be still. Glancing you could see traces of what Chaeyoung had drawn so far. It was good, really good but your expression did look slightly unflattering. Surely you weren’t looking this….lost. Your cheeks redden even more.

A few minutes later, you felt yourself getting close to cumming yet again. That kind of scared you, surely cumming this much in a small time frame can’t be good. Yet, your body betrayed you yet again as you let out several loud moans as you were on the brink and that’s when Chaeyoung stopped, pulling out her fingers as well.

“I’m done, I’ve finished it.”, she declares, absentmindedly cleaning off your juices from her fingers by putting them in her mouth one by one. She proceeds to show you the final product and you have to admit, it’s quite an impressive piece of art. However, you can’t appreciate it wholly since your mind had its focus elsewhere.

“It’s great but…..can you please start fingnering me again?” You say quietly, feeling a bit embarrassed about asking since that’s what she was doing to you for almost an hour now.

“What?”, Chaeyoung asks confused as to why you were speaking so quietly.

Frustrated, you blurt out what you really“I want to cum again! Okay? I want you to make me cum”

“Come on! You are so greedy you know, didn't you already get off a few times-", Chaeyoung says in slight disbelief but you can see the eagerness in her eyes.

"Just do it please, I'm really close!", you plead, feeling your release starting to fade away.

She sighs with a smile and quick eye roll, “I’ll do you one better.” She then moves in between your legs, ready to eat you out. “It might be more than once but don’t complain then”

[suashii]

FRI(END)S — some suggestive fluff for suna :p

your alarm hasn’t gone off yet, your eyes haven’t opened yet, but you’re awake.

and something feels… strange.

when you finally peel your eyelids back, you’re met with another pair—gray and sharp—staring back at you. the unexpected sight makes you suck in a startled breath. you almost question what suna’s doing under the covers on the usually unoccupied side of your bed before memories from last night rush back. the line between friends and something more has officially been blurred.

“why are you staring at me?” you pull the blanket up to your chin to cover yourself, as if suna hadn’t seen much more than your naked collarbone only a few hours ago. “it’s creepy.”

a grin tugs at his lips. it’s familiar and makes the tension in your shoulders dissipate, if only a little. “i thought people liked being watched while they sleep. it’s romantic or something.”

you shake your head. “it’s not when it’s you.”

he chuckles and stretches his arms above his head, groaning with the action. he doesn’t seem to care about his skin being on display as he lets the comforter rest at his hip. “fair enough.”

silence blankets your room. the sunlight peeking in from the sheerness of your curtains lights up suna’s skin, casting its golden rays on the blank canvas. except, it’s not blank. there’s a mole on his chest and a small scar on his ribs, neither of which you’ve ever seen before. never had a reason to, you suppose. 

his voice, still thick with sleep, cuts through the tranquil air. “did you know that you snore?”

“i do not.” you frown and your fingers twitch with the urge to flick his forehead or pinch his arm but touching him, even in a friendly, jesting manner, feels like it isn’t allowed. so you keep your arm at your side.

“you do, i heard you. don’t worry, it’s cute.”

you’re not sure if it’s the way he keeps insisting that you snore or the fact that he called you cute like it was nothing, but the blanket over you suddenly feels suffocating—heavy and too hot on your warming skin. it forces your arm out into the cool air of your apartment and you find it impossible not to kick him in annoyance.

“shut up,” you mumble as suna laughs. he’s having too much fun with this. to see him this energetic in the morning is odd. “why are you even awake right now? i thought you slept until noon on off days.”

he shrugs. “kind of weird sleeping in someone else’s bed, i guess.”

it’s a relief to hear that suna finds at least part of this situation foreign. you’re both dancing around the subject, not bringing up what happened last night and how that changes things, but you’re in the same boat. 

no matter how, you’re sure you’ll figure things out—together.

“do you want breakfast?”

suna nods enthusiastically at the mention of food. it makes you smile for the first time this morning as you move to get out of bed. though, as quickly as you do, you stop. “turn around so i can put some clothes on.”

“i’ve already—”

you point a finger at him. “don’t you dare say it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“fine, fine.” he raises his hands in surrender before he rolls onto his other side, all while fighting the stupid grin pulling at his lips.

inspired by v's new song fri(end)s :3

[cupid-styles]

WEED/INTOX CONCEPTS IM SO UP !!!!!!

soft plug!h x sunshine reader who buys from him and he has a huge crush on her but shes a little oblivious and he always tries to be extra nice to her and give her more than she paid for in hopes of her talking to him more and maybe one night she buys from him and invites him to stay and maybe smoke w her bc its raining and she feels bad she made him come all the way to her house and they smoke and he cant stop staring at her and its very fluffy and cute

i love down bad plugrry

thoughts?? :D

AWWWW that's so cute :(((( I love the thought of him being a softie!! I actually started writing a plug!y/n blurb awhile ago and I just never finished it, but it was kind of like this where she was just the soft plug instead of him BUT he was still super down bad for her </3333

I'm not sure if the completed blurb will ever see the light of day but here's a little bit of it under the cut!

CWs: weed (obviously) lol

word count: 414

Harry doesn’t actually need any weed.

However, this doesn’t stop him from texting the cute girl who sells nuggets of weed and bundles of shrooms in adorable pastel pink baggies. He met Y/N through friends a few months back — she was roommates with Lena in college and apparently had a knack for making edibles that got you to a smooth high without completely melting your brain. The second she introduced herself to him, with her bright smile and sweet voice, Harry was hooked. 

Stupidly, ridiculously hooked. 

The thing is, Harry doesn’t even like weed that much. He’ll smoke at parties every now and then, but it’s usually just one or two hits from a friend’s joint before he returns to drinking whatever tequila-based cocktail he’s palming in his hand. But she’s so sweet, and cute, and she keeps her drugs in a canvas tote bag that says “support your local public library.” How was Harry not supposed to fall for her?

And yeah, he bought some pre-rolled joints from her a week and a half ago at Mitch and Sarah’s housewarming party — his heart nearly collapsed to his stomach when he saw the adorable strawberry rolling papers she used — but he misses her. It’s dumb, considering they barely know one another, but it’s a Wednesday evening and he can’t stop thinking about the warm scent of her perfume and the pretty, flushed hue of her lips. 

So, he texts her.

Their entire text thread is filled with Harry being stupidly obvious about his feelings for her, thinly veiled by requests for deliveries and pick-ups. Tonight is no different: Hey Y/N, hope you’re having a good week :) do you think I can come pick up tonight?

She replies almost immediately as Harry drums his fingers nervously on his thigh. His stomach dips when he reads her response. Of course!!!!! :) come by whenever ur free ! 

He swallows tightly when she follows it up with another message: also im making veggie pasta if u haven’t eaten dinner yet! I made too much and it never reheats well! you’re more than welcome to it if u’d like :))))

Typically when he buys weed from her, their interactions are far too short for his liking. They engage in friendly small talk and she giggles at whatever bad jokes he makes, but they’ve never actually hung out one-on-one. The thought makes Harry prickle with nerves, but he knows he’d be foolish not to take her up on her offer.