#Sound absorbing wall art

[noiseproblems]

What exactly is an acoustic barrier?

An acoustic barrier is a fence type designed to lessen environmental noise from a specific source, like a construction site or a motorway. Acoustic barriers are made from a blend of insulative materials and high mass which are important for efficient soundproofing. The high mass will reflect the sound away and the insulation will absorb the sound that tries to pass through the acoustic barriers.

Can I use acoustic barriers on construction sites?

Yes, acoustic barriers must be used at noisy construction sites to palliate the noise pollution to the surrounding area and to adhere with regulations set out. Just like acoustic drapes, acoustic barriers are not just for the protection of the surrounding ambience, but also for the workers on site.

Using acoustic barriers to lessen traffic or road noise

It is not strange to build effective noise barriers directly beside motorways and busy roads. The blend of a car moving through the air, tires coming in contact with the road, and engines roaring, all build up to loud noise levels. To prevent these noises from entering your house, you can install window inserts for noise at your house.

Anybody can install acoustic barriers if necessary. Acoustic barriers have more mass, making them heavy to shift or lift. You have to consider the site access, jeopardize yourself, or others installing them at optimum conditions. When this is done, you should have an idea about the number of people necessary to safely install the acoustic barriers or sound absorbing wall art on your site.

Acoustic barrier panels are installed in the same way like a garden fence, with panels and posts to slot in. To make sure the acoustic barriers are completely effective, an acoustic seal is taped between the panels to prevent sound leakage.

[kittyfrisk9]

IdeaDpxDc: A nice moment with a sleep demon.

Note: Sorry, I don't know English, so please use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.

Dead On Main.

---

Danny accidentally absorbed some of Nocturn's powers (like in the Vortex episode), and now, with these new temporary abilities, why not take advantage of them? Like a kid with a new toy, Danny (or should I say Phantom: with a new design) has fun every night going from dream to dream.

The dream world is so strange! Without the constant threat of a dream entity trying to take over the world and all that. Now he has fun exploring the most unusual parts of his classmates' subconscious, or anyone's in general.

Even though he knows he shouldn't be doing this (after all, he's a responsible adult now), spying on other people's dreams isn't exactly something a mature person would do.

On the other hand, Danny is the responsible adult; Phantom is the one who uses his new powers recklessly. Plus, no one in Gotham knows who Phantom is, and at the end of the day, he's not hurting anyone. Point in his favor!

It was all fun and games… until he felt it: the unpleasant taste of a nightmare, distressing and desperate. Phantom knows he has to intervene, because, unlike Nocturn, he does not delight in the suffering of others.

So he goes. And what he sees shocks him.

Resonant laughter of a psychopath, the constant pain of flesh being beaten, and the devastating reminder that no one came to help. Phantom doesn't just see it, he feels it. Gross. What is this? Why would anyone be hurting a child? Then he understands: this is not just a nightmare, it's a memory, and someone is suffering from reliving it.

He absolutely will not allow this nightmare to continue.

...

Jason hasn't been having good days lately, mostly because instead of going to therapy, he's chosen to sweep his trauma under the rug and aggressively throw himself into crime-fighting. He's not good at dealing with his emotions, especially when he's been tormented by the same damn nightmare over and over again.

He knows the script by heart, he knows how it will end, but he still feels the same fear as the first time.

His head hurts.

"No, not again," he thinks in terror. Once again, he's tied up, unable to move or call for help. It's colder than he remembers. The walls have a grotesque tint, with laughter written in every corner. But the worst thing is the silence… until the sound of clashing metal begins to resonate.

Everything is a thousand times worse. He's sure the original scenario wasn't like this, but his terrified mind refuses to accept it.

The metallic sound resonates louder, each crash rumbling in Jason's chest. His breathing quickens, and then he hears it: that laugh.

A deep, distorted echo of laughter that seems to come from every direction. The laughter snakes around the grotesque walls, filled with the same letters that repeat his agony. “Ha… ha… ha…” fills the air, louder with each invisible step that approaches.

Then, he appears.

It’s not the Joker he remembers from that fateful night. This one is worse. Bigger, more deformed, with a smile that seems to tear at his own face. The colors of his suit are darker, more twisted. It’s as if his mind has amplified him, made him more monstrous.

“My, my, how little Robin has grown? But… something remains the same, doesn’t it? No matter how many times you live it, it always ends the same way. And to think that you were my greatest work of art!”

His voice is mocking, but behind the mockery is pure cruelty, a wicked amusement that lights up in those crazy eyes.

The Joker leans towards Jason, his face invading the small distance between them. The sound of metal continues to echo, and Jason knows what's coming next.

"Oh, I almost forgot…" he says, pulling out of nowhere an iron crowbar that gleams in the dim light of the nightmare. "It wouldn't be a good memory without this, would it?"

That's when the pain begins. Jason doesn't want to scream, and he won't. Even though that abominable creature is just a representation of his killer, he won't give him the luxury of listening to him suffer. The blows continue, and Jason bites his tongue. It's just a nightmare, it's not real… it's not real.

It's not real.

It's not real.

It's not-

"Hey… Are you okay?" he hears him ask. His shocked gaze turns to where the clown should be and discovers that he's gone. In his place, there's a handsome young man: short, slightly messy black hair, expressive purple eyes, and a body almost completely shrouded in dark shadows.

The mysterious man had a cosmic air about him, surrounded by a mix of special effects of stars and galaxies. Something magical.

And new.

Jason honestly doesn't know what he's seeing, or why he's seeing it. "What?" he says, unable to find another word to describe his situation.

The entity laughs at his stunned state, a reassuring echo very different from the joker's laughter. Then he snaps his fingers, and suddenly he's no longer in that ugly room. He's now in a field of flowers, beautiful and vibrant, looking out at a starry sky.

Okay, this is the part where he asks his brain how he went from being in a nightmare to being with a handsome guy under the stars, hands free and untethered.

"Relax, you're not crazy," the being says as he lies back in the grass. “You were in pain, and I didn’t like it, so I got you out of there. Don’t worry, that abomination won’t bother you again.”

Jason blinks twice, bewildered, not understanding anything. “You… saved me?”

“You could say yes.”

“Why?” He shakes his head. “No, wait, that’s not the question. Who…?” Looking back at the being, he decides to change his question: “What are you?”

He seems to have taken the being by surprise.

It clasps its hands together as it looks up at the sky, trying to act normal. Jason narrows his eyes. “You can call me Void.”

“Did you just make up that name?”

The being looks away, seemingly embarrassed at being found out. “Yeah…” And suddenly exclaims, “Ah, ancients! I'm not supposed to be doing this, much less with one of the bats."

That last sentence had given away more than it should have.

"Hey, how about we admire the night view and then pretend this never happened?" Void suggested with a hopeful smile, turning to Jason.

Maybe it was the soft scent of the flowers, the calm atmosphere, or just the tiredness after so many nights of endless nightmares, but Jason, without thinking too much about it, walked over, lay down next to Void on the grass, and said, "No."

He needed a break.

...

And that's how Jason befriended a dream demon. And how Danny pretended to be a dream demon until Nocturn's powers wore off. He couldn't let the bats find out his identity.

After that, they spent more time together, fell in love, there was drama and there was closure. In the middle of all that, Danny started having tea with Alfred in the dream world, and at other times, he had fun bothering the other bats in their dreams.

But that's another story.

---

Note: Sorry, I don't know English, so please use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.

Part 2

[minkdelovely]

hands on

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Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+

tags/warnings: smut lite, chest fluff worship, reader on top ❤️‍🔥

word count: 568

author’s note: this was a little gift for @hazelfoureyes and @sugoi-writes based off this delicious fan art from @rib_roast_a5 on twitter. it didn’t feel quite right to keep it to ourselves, so here’s a steamy blurb for your enjoyment! i promise i’m not trying to push a hand kink agenda either… 😅

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Eternity was generous in moments like this. You had lost track of time, seconds passing like the listless rhythm of a leaky faucet.

Drip…

Drop.

Tick…

Tock.

It was a rare gift in Hell, and one that you never took for granted. Committing it all to your memory for safekeeping.

You had been riding him for quite some time, the need overcoming the two of you so suddenly you had hardly undressed after making it back to your room. You recalled how poised Alastor had still managed to look kicking his shoes off and removing his coat — and how sinful he looked pulling off one of his gloves with his teeth.

Though nothing could beat the expression on his face when you tore open his shirt before impaling yourself on his lap.

He still had the same intense look in his eyes, searing you with hunger and fascination as you fucked yourself on him. A wolfish grin on his lips and claws digging into the flesh of your hips as your fingers gripped and pulled at the tufts of hair on his chest. Heady pants and moans spilling easily from your open mouth as you maintained eye contact, your walls clenching around Alastor’s length as you saw dark blood fall down his chin in your peripheral. He often did this, quite literally biting back the sounds of his own pleasure in his desire to absorb all you had to give.

All that he could claim.

“Enjoying yourself, dearest?”

The question came out through gritted teeth and shortened breath. A thick swallow and drawn brows betraying his effort to remain stoic after a particularly salacious roll of your hips.

Reflexively, you grabbed handfuls of the hair on his pectorals from the strained sound of his voice, earning you a shaky groan that you could feel under your fingers; the vibration seeming to travel through them straight to your cunt, dousing his cock in more of your arousal. The wet sounds of your laps meeting only tightening the hot coil in your belly.

“Mhmm,” is all you manage to respond, nodding your head in emphasis as you switched from bouncing to grinding. Relishing the ache of him pressing deep into your core and crying out as Alastor began to thrust up into you, finally reciprocating a need for friction.

Another rumble from his clenched jaw as he matched your rhythm while you massaged circles on his chest. Humming at how good the plush, soft hair felt between your fingers.

Suddenly Alastor shifted his weight, putting it all on his shoulders as his legs bent up, slamming his hips into you as you fell forward from the force of it. Your wanton screams now muffled by the hair that your digits had been tangled in only seconds before. There was barely any time to process the switch before your orgasm washed over you, your muted cries harmonizing with the deep groan caused by his own release.

Alastor hummed as he felt your heavy breath hot against him, right over his rapidly beating heart. Your fingers lazily curled around tendrils of his chest hair while he pet your back as he slowly pulled out. Unable to fight the relaxed, pleased smile that spread across his face as you whined from the loss and nuzzled his chest when a thought came to mind.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you owe me a shirt.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold, @krak-jj, @tremendoushearttaco, @redfoxwritesstuff, @chibistar45, @kaylopolis, @cutiebimbo, @lousypotatoes, @rfox1998, @cosmiccandydreamer, @stardustandbrimstone, @cherry-cola-100, @wonderlandangelsposts, @catticora, @velvette3, @sailorsmouth, @alastorthirsty, @reath-solia, @junieshohoho, @cxrsedwxrlds, @fraugwinska, @littlebluefishtail

[i9hrtszn]

　　 　　🤖❛　　sonic　whiplash　:　the　event　　✲

　　 ⿸　　🛸˚　　an　　 @i9hrtszn 　　special　　 event　　⋌ 　　

hi y'all! i just want to say thank you all for 300 followers. to be honest, this brings me so much joy as i used to think that i was not good in the field, with my posts achieving a low engagement rate. but over the past two years, i made it to such a big and momentous milestone, and i really am grateful to those of you who like, reblog, and comment on my moodboards; i really appreciate it. therefore, to celebrate this wonderful occasion, i decided to host an event that's a bit different (as far as i know) from other events that took place here in tumblr. i also had so much fun formulating the concept behind this event, and i hope that you will also show some love and support to it. i hope that blogs, regardless of experience and following, will participate and have fun. please don't let this flop; anyways thanks for 300 and enjoy!

ㅤㅤㅤ⋋ㅤㅤㅤ💾❛ㅤㅤㅤ⿴ㅤㅤㅤ○ㅤㅤㅤabout

in 2050, a decade after the great armageddon nearly wiped out all life, the world has become a wasteland. only a few high-tech colonies survive, including the last stronghold in seoul. here, people live in peace within their advanced, secure cities, shielded from whatever dangers lurk in the outside world. but this peace doesn’t mean they’re safe to ignore what’s beyond their walls.

the a.e.s.p.a. (advanced enforcement and security protection agency) is a team of elite operatives sworn to protect the colony. normally, they handle internal threats, but recently, they received a strange signal from outside the colony. this signal was unlike anything they’d seen—a unique frequency that could mean other survivors were out there. weeks later, another mysterious event followed, dubbed “sonic whiplash.” a massive shockwave, almost like an echo of a voice or a distant call, rattled the colony walls. this wasn’t just noise; scientists suspected it was energy, possibly even linked to other dimensions or sources of life outside.

to respond, a.e.s.p.a. needed to build specialized machines to handle whatever strange conditions they might face outside the colony. however, necessary files required to plot out their machine's structure and purpose were wiped out during the armageddon, hence using moodboards left as fragments of the original files to complete the machine's construction further. in a creative and practical twist, a.e.s.p.a uses moodboards—visual boards that combine art and data—to design their rescue machinery. these moodboards help them craft everything from rescue drones to sound-absorbing suits, all adapted to fit the mysterious energy of sonic whiplash. each moodboard captures the “feel” of the mission, ensuring their tech can handle the unknowns in a potentially hostile environment.

by bringing these ideas to life, a.e.s.p.a. is preparing to head out of the colony not just to investigate the signals, but to possibly save any survivors they find. with these advanced machines, they’re ready to confront the mysteries of the world outside and discover the truth behind the haunting frequency, hoping to bridge their safe world with whatever’s left out there.

ㅤㅤㅤ⋋ㅤㅤㅤ🎧❛ㅤㅤㅤ⿴ㅤㅤㅤ○ㅤㅤㅤrules

•ㅤyour moodboard must be centered on any of aespa's songs on the "whiplash" album. conceptual, futuristic, and cyber themes are mostly preferred, but any theme is gratefully accepted. •ㅤyour moodboard's content must be, at least, 90% yours (although using free-to-use resources by other users is fine). •ㅤcopying and stealing other participants' entries is strictly forbidden. incorporating 3 pictures into your moodboards that are also present in other's moodboards will be considered copying and will automatically be disqualified from the event. •ㅤyou can submit up to two entries if you wish to do so. •ㅤuse the tag "⋋　📷❛　⿴　✶　sonic whiplash: the event." and tag me in your post or mention me in the comments or your entry won't count. •ㅤif you have any concerns or wish to seek an extension, please do not hesitate to send a dm to me.

ㅤㅤ⋋ㅤㅤㅤ🛰️❛ㅤㅤㅤ⿴ㅤㅤㅤ○ㅤㅤㅤhow to join

•ㅤcomment "joining" on this event + state what is your favorite song from aespa's whiplash album. •ㅤlike + reblog this post and tag 4 or more mutuals who might join the event. •ㅤdeadline is on december 2. a one-week extension will be given to those who need it.

ㅤㅤㅤ⋋ㅤㅤㅤ📡❛ㅤㅤㅤ⿴ㅤㅤㅤ○ㅤㅤㅤprizes

—ㅤ①ㅤ:ㅤ 100 reblogs on 3 moodboards of your choice, 3 custom moodboards, 3 custom fgs + layouts.

—ㅤ②ㅤ:ㅤ80 reblogs on 2 moodboard of your choice, 1 custom moodboards, 2 custom fgs + layouts.

—ㅤ③ㅤ:ㅤ60 reblogs on 1 moodboards of your choice, 1 custom moodboards, 1 custom fg + layout.

—ㅤrunners-up/notable entriesㅤ:ㅤ50 reblogs on 1 moodboard of your choice, 1 custom fg/layout (only one of your choice).

ㅤㅤ•ㅤall participants will receive 25 reblogs upon entry. ㅤㅤ•ㅤall reblogs will be done on @i4luvszn.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ⋋ㅤㅤㅤ💾❛ㅤㅤㅤ⿴ㅤㅤㅤ○ㅤㅤㅤtags

@taroism @n-americano @fluiora @aesverse @kyuwebs

@awwriri @umiena @hyelita @hyunlita @m00nbap

@beompercar @studiogyu @nikist-4-n @neapolitism @reiminders

@purincidio @kgirls @purinkiss @yeoniis @rthym

@4uarterlife @keketopia @seulzitos @aericita @florichae

@soulari @hourlyhoon @flaireur @f-loqweres @chenjiyaoi

@tzulipss @y-vna @y-unrei @y-urios @haerinism

@jimzittos @aeraras @aestradairio @bambicito @fairytopea

@hyetart @notaorbital @poemale @vg-k @i-kyujin

@jaexiyu @sxgarhan @t-aes @wonjuii @bitchey

+++ other users who may be interested in joining!

[jobean12-blog]

Falling Fast

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x female reader

Word Count: 1,938

Summary: Every moment spent with him pulls you closer to the edge and when you're forced to have time apart it only makes you realize how much you want to be with him.

Author's Note: Here's more for Marcus and our princess! It's so lovely to know some of you are enjoying this as much as I am, so thank you, from the bottom of my heart. All these stories can be read as stand alones but if you want to get into the finer details then you can check out the other's here, in this order: Falling First, Falling Fast, Falling for the Forbidden, Forbidden, A Warrior's Heart (this last one is in the far future). Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the sweet @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 😘

Warnings: sweet softness, tension, more book/poetry talk, stolen moments, a kiss

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

Sunlight filters through the open spaces in the roof and dust dances in the shining rays as you sit with your head bent to a book. It bores you, however, so you snap it shut and place it down on the table.

You reach for the nearest wooden ladder and start to climb. Boxes of scrolls flank you on either side but you’re in search of more poetry from your father’s rare collection of books. Most of them are on the art of war but thankfully there are some hidden gems among the rest.

You stop climbing when you spot an ornate binding and reach for it. When you open the volume, dust floats up and out, tickling your nose and causing you to sneeze. Regardless you keep turning the pages, eagerly absorbing every word while still standing on the steps of the ladder.

“Surely the Princess should not be reading in such a precarious position.”   

“What?” you say with a start, searching the space.

The General stands at the entrance of the portico, his ornamental cuirass dazzling in the shafts of sunlight he walks through as he approaches.

“That’s not a safe place for you to read,” he muses with a smile playing upon his lips.

You look down at yourself as if remembering everything that has happened in the last few minutes all at once.

“Oh…well I…”

You clear your throat and clutch the wooden post of the ladder more tightly. Once the General is standing below you, he holds out his hand to offer assistance.

Your eyes stay locked on his as you place your hand in his own, the warmth of his calloused skin spreading along your arm and right down your spine. He reaches his free hand up and gently cradles your back until your feet touch solid ground.

“There,” he says quietly. “Much better.”

You continue to hold his gaze, swaying closer the longer his eyes stay focused on you and when they drop to your mouth you softly sigh.

The book slips from your hand when you reach for his arm and the sound echoes loudly, dragging you back to reality.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, suddenly breathless.

“The same thing you are Princess,” he answers.

When you don’t respond and the book remains on the stone floor between you, he bends to retrieve it and then takes your wrist, carefully placing the book in your hand.

“Escaping.”

Your breath catches at his confession and the urge to reach out and touch his face is overwhelming.

“General Acacius…”

“Marcus. Please.”

You swallow hard and with a small nod repeat his name in a whisper.

He steps closer, the sound of his name on your lips seeming to create a new spark of heat in his eyes.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, moving closer.

Your back hits the wall of wooden boxes and he places his large hands on either side of your head, caging you in.

“Marcus,” you whisper.

His hand drops to your cheek and his thumb sweeps across the soft skin, lifting your chin and pulling you closer.

The sound of heavy footfalls fills the hall outside the library and his eyes widen and with a muttered curse he steps away from you and moves quickly to a wall of scrolls across the room.

You stand paralyzed, the scent and the heat of his touch lingering.

Your father enters with a stoic expression and when his eyes land on you he scowls.

“Reading your romance again?” he mocks.

You open your mouth to answer but Marcus cuts in. “Actually, she was helping me find something.”

Your father’s head swings around to the General and his face lights up.

“Ah, there you are General Acacius!”

Before the General can say more your father continues, “I do hope she has not been boring you with her nonsense…”

“Not at all,” Marcus says. “She is a most gracious help.”

Your father looks between the two of you, his eyes narrowing.

“And just what is it, General, that you came into my private library looking for?” your father asks.

The General smiles warmly. “Your incredible collection of books on war, of course.”

A sadistic smile splits your father’s pursed lips. “Very good! Unfortunately, you are needed for more urgent matters. You will have to peruse my scrolls another time.”

With that he throws you a repulsed look and turns on his heel, clearly expecting the General to follow.

Marcus waits until the footsteps recede before taking long strides back to you.

“I am sorry,” he whispers as he takes your hand in his.

“What for?” you ask, your eyes tracking the movement as he lifts your hand to his lips.

“I will see you soon,” he promises before pulling you into his chest.

You gasp and lean into him, craning your neck as he dips his head. Your eyes close and your fingers curl against his cuirass but his warm breath merely fans your lips before he presses them to the corner of your mouth.

When he pulls away his expression is filled with yearning, and he gives your hand a squeeze before he lets it fall back to your side. Your lips are parted, and you sway on your feet as you watch him exit the library and follow in your father’s footsteps.

Days go by without a sight of the general and at the week’s end you can feel yourself withdrawing. You can’t focus on reading, every walk you take is spent searching for him, hoping you’ll cross paths and each night you lie awake until you remember nothing else but your dreams.

Dreams of the feel of his fingertips, his lips, his strong body pressed to yours…it’s enough to have you awakening with an aching need.

On one particularly uneventful evening you find yourself scouring the library for your book of Horace poetry. It’s been missing for days.

Deciding another walk might clear your head, you stomp away to the grounds near the Colosseum, wiggling your bare toes in the cool grass outside of the gladiator training school, while you look up at the clouds dancing across the blue sky.

You can hear the distant sound of the wooden practice weapons banging together and the indecipherable grunts and shouts of the training gladiators.

Then a commanding voice rings out over all the others and your breath hitches. You stand with a flurry of ungraceful movements and follow the sound to the open area where men are practicing.

Marcus walks tall between the lines, instructing and repositioning as he moves, all the while watching with keen eyes. You hide yourself as best you can behind the low stone wall and watch.

He’s a spectacle of power and grace and before you realize where your feet are carrying you, you’re standing in plain sight, eyes glued to the General.

“Princess,” one of the training men croons. “Have you come to enjoy the sights?”

Your eyes move slowly away from Marcus and land on the man who is speaking to you, and you lift your chin.

“I am merely out for a walk.”

He flexes his muscles and licks his lips as he eyes you hungrily.

Without warning you hear the crack of a hand against skin, and the man falls to his knees. The General stands above him.

“The Princess may enjoy whatever sights she wants without your commenting on it.”

He then brings his eyes to yours. “Forgive me. I hope you were not disturbed.”

“Not at all General,” you answer. “Just out for a walk…in search of some patience.”

Marcus’ eyes widen ever so slightly, barely enough for you to catch, but then you see his fist flex at his side and his lips twitch with a smile.

“I understand,” he replies. “I have been asked to oversee the training of the new gladiators and have been held up here at the training grounds…it is a test of my patience.”

With this new knowledge of why he’s been missing you smile and ask, “I hope you at least have had time do some reading?”

He steps closer, away from prying ears.

“I have actually.”

His smile is playful.

“Horace again?” you ask.

He nods with a slight incline of his head and says, “I hope you do not mind. It helps to pass the time here.”

“Not at all General,” you smile. “When will you be returning to the palace grounds?”

“Tonight,” he states. “I would like to visit the library again.”

You notice the trainees starting to get rowdy, their eyes warily darting between you and the General the longer you speak.

Marcus clears his throat and looks over his shoulder, causing the other men to straighten up and stand in line.

He starts to turn on his heel to address them but not before he says, quietly enough for only you to hear, “until tonight. Princess.”

The darkness of night blankets the sky and the oil lamp you hold does little to blot out the brilliance of the stars above as they twinkle through the openings in the library roof.

You’re staring up at them when he walks in. His footsteps are sure but quiet and when he reaches you, he takes the lamp from your fingers and sets it down on the table.

“I have never experienced a day longer than this,” he murmurs.

“Marcus,” you whisper, trying to restrain yourself from reaching out for him.

You look him over, noticing a large bandage wrapped around his upper bicep and gently lift your fingers to touch it.

“It is nothing,” he assures you, wrapping his fingers around yours and pulling you into his chest.

Tonight, he wears only a cloth tunic, and you can feel the way his muscles tense and shift beneath the soft fabric. Your fingertips glide across the wide breadth of his shoulders and then to toy with the pin holding the tunic in place.

You won’t meet his eyes and his grip tightens.

“Something troubles you,” he states.

“No,” you answer quickly, finally looking him in the eyes.

His eyebrows raise knowingly, and he waits.

“Yes,” you say this time, much more softly. “It is just that…the other night, here in the library…”

Your words die off with a sigh, but he finishes the thought for you.

“Why did I not kiss you?”

You suck in a breath.

“Princess. I would not have the first time my lips touch yours be anything less than perfection and under prying eyes I should not like to have been rushed.”

“Oh,” is all you can say as he easily walks you backward toward one of the stone pillars.

It’s cold when you back hits it, but you don’t care and instead press yourself closer to him.

“Marcus. Please.”

He growls out your name as he slides his hands up the curve of your waist, tucking one behind your neck and the other under your jaw. Your noses brush ever so lightly, and he closes his eyes with a deep inhale as his lips ghost along your skin.

His lips are soft and gentle as they touch your cheek, then your temple, your forehead, and finally they hover just above yours.

“Marcus…?”

“I fear that once I kiss you, I will never be able to stop.”

He breathes the words against your skin and breathes you in before his lips capture yours. It’s soft at first, tentative, but the moment you let slip the low moan at the back of your throat, it becomes insistent and intense, and you kiss him back with equal fervor.

@blackwidownat2814 @hiddles-rose @tripletstephaniescp @lizette50

[cry4mina]

Heaven

(Nayeon x Fem!reader)

Word Count: 6.9k

Fluff/Smut

Summary: After being with Nayeon for a while, it's clear that she is your future. You both decide it's time to move in with each other, this fic takes place on move in day!

TW: Fluffy, cute, oral, fingering, a little nipple play, strap ons, teasing, lots of almost moments. Let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: @dovveri (the precious angel) had asked me to expand on this MONTHS ago and I took my sweet ass time (I stalled bc fluff is not my strong suit.) BUT it here now and I hope you enjoy it!<3

Also! Happy 6 Months to Cry4Mina! I know I say I'm grateful for all of you all the time but hitting 600 followers AND it being my 6 months of writing has really just been amazing.

Thank you all for taking the time to read my works, the support you've given me and all the love! I'm really looking forward to writing a lot of the drafts that I have, and interacting with everyone! I hope you all have such a lovely day/night and get you a little sweet treat! <3

The walls are blank. Every place where art once hung, now patched with tack and smoothed over. Boxes lining the small living room and parts of the kitchen…reliving some of the sacred memories built here when your phone chimes, interrupting the sweet thoughts. You to pull it out of your pocket to check the notification.

Nay: I’m outside baby (9:45am)

Not even bothering to reply, you just pull the door open to see a U-haul truck backed into the parking spot closest to your soon to be old front door and Nayeon no where in sight.

Looking around in confusion, you hear the clattering of the big metal rolling door on the back of the truck.

Eyes meeting the sound as it rattles, ascending upwards and stopping in place. A petite Nayeon lifting it and climbing into the back to push it all the way to the top, revealing the empty truck she rented just for the things you decided to bring along with you.

She leaves you completely breathless, per usual…but today, being the day you were moving in together, your heart throbbed with love and affection for your beautiful girlfriend.

White sneakers with long white socks up to her knees, black shorts that were intentionally too short, a top that had hints of purple and a trucker hat to finish the look off. Appearing as if she just got out of a photoshoot or filming a video or something more extravagant than helping you move.

Your jaw hit the floor as she half jogged up to you, and jumping into your arms and wrapping her legs around you, expecting you to hold her up while her forearms found their place on your shoulders and her hands were interwoven with themselves.

Being sure to catch her, providing some support from under her, she lean back and grabbed your cheeks, kissing them one, two, three times before completely beaming at you from the few inches she had of height on you in this position.

“Hi, baby!,the ” another kiss, this one on the lips, to taper off her sentence while her hands found their way around your neck once more.

“Hi, my love, you look amazing.” absorbing her like flowers take in the sun, feeling her skin on yours was magic.

“Only for you.” watching as her eyes convert to a half lidded seduction, her tone emanated a specific type of want that could only be translated privately, very very privately.

Nayeon reverts the seductive face, unwrapping her legs and stand on her own, keeping her hands connected around your neck and pulling you into an even bigger hug, fingers tapping on your shoulder blades to the song she was humming, before shimmying in your arms.

Both of you start giggling before she finally lets go of you, very obviously excited about this adventure you were going on together. Her hand finds yours, lightly gripping it and swinging it around while she talks.

“Okay, so the movers should be here any minute - we are loading what you’re keeping into this truck” pointing to the one that she pulled up in.

“And anything we are going to donate will go in the movers truck, they will drop it off and then we will go…home, the movers will meet us there and we will get everything organize. Sound like a plan?” the loving look she gives you when she says home made your knees weak, jelly filled joints fighting to hold the weight of the love you held for her every thing she did, but especially when she said something sweet or looked at you a certain way.

“Sounds good, babe.” uttered over the squeaking of the brakes from the truck of movers that just pulled up and her squealing at the sight of them.

The 3 men come over, asking you for detailed instructions on what to keep and what to put in the “donation” truck. Most of the things you were keeping was in boxes but you were keeping your king sized bed, Nayeon was too in love with it to even think about getting a new one.

“But it’s already broken in on my side, I don’t want to do that again. Don’t you like sleeping on a cloud? I can’t believe you’re considering a new one…” argued a few weeks ago when you half way discussed what furniture you wanted to keep.

Both of you decided the living room would be the focus first, you’d want a new couch if anything. Wanting to pick out the decorations together for each room would be a fun bonding experience and that was something you were very much looking forward to.

“Alright, we will get started.” One of the men said, walking into the living room and starting with the couch you weren’t going to keep, taking it to the donation truck while you and Nayeon focused on the boxes.

Slowly removing everything from the apartment until it was completely empty, you couldn’t help but have a little moment of sadness, not that you were upset about this new chapter in your life with Nayeon, but more so the memories of this apartment and what it meant to you.

Nayeon sees you staring at the bare walls and taking the last walk through of the place to make sure everything was taken care of. Waiting for you to have your moment, she doesn’t rush you, simply leaning on the door frame with her arms crossed, silently watching the emotions change across your face.

It’s an emotional transition, even if it’s a good one. This place was where you built your relationship, the foundation of the steady and healthy bond you and her shared. Moving in together was a massive step that you were more than ready to take, but you couldn’t help allow the nostalgia consume you for a moment as a few tears roll down your cheek.

Feeling her eyes on your back, the edges of your mouth turn up knowing the exact look she’s giving you before you even see it.

“I can feel you watching me” giggling through the droplets that threatened to drip down your chin, you try to wipe them before she can see.

“Don’t try to hide it, I know you’re crying!” she walks up behind you, giving you a hug from behind and resting her head on your shoulder blades.

Sniffling while trying to gain your composure again, Nayeon just holds you until your breath smooths out more. Rocking you from side to side in attempts to comfort you.

“Don’t worry, baby” spinning you around carefully so you can face her; she likes to make eye contact when she speaks.

“This is going to be great! And do you want to know the best part?” leaning into you, putting her weight on you to make you hold her back.

“What’s the best part, my love?”

“We get to do it together!” Nayeon practically tackles you to the ground, smooching you all over the face and tickling you in the process.

Rolling around and trying to avoid her hands as you both laugh, you love how playful your relationship with her is. She always knew how to make you smile, in every single way you could imagine.

Once she put a halt to the tickle fest she brought on, she was straddling you on the floor, hands resting on your stomach and your hands were on her thighs. You sit up, placing your hands on her ass and scoot her into you.

Faces so close you can feel her breath on your lips, you can tell she’s riled up from the way you’re looking at her and your hand placement, it was easier to get her worked up - easier than she would like to admit.

Reaching your hands up from your girlfriend’s thighs and trailing them up her chest, watching as her breath hitches when you pass her collarbones.

Gliding your digits up her neck and to her cheeks, you feel her flush - a noticeable wave of heat rushing through her.

Sight going from her lips, up to her eyes, and then back down to her lips again, you bring her mere centimeters from your mouth.

Her breathing speeds up.

Feeling her heart race through your fingertips, the way her eyes were locked in on you, and the way she held you close without an inch of wiggle room…you knew exactly what she was thinking about…and what she wanted.

“Baby” breathed to her, teasing her with your whispers and the distance between your lips.

Nayeon’s is completely enthralled, looking like she wants to beg for you to touch her. Eyes returning to their half lidded state from earlier, she starts rocking her hips on your lap, you stop her immediately.

“Not yet, baby. We still have work to do…and I want pizza for dinner.” kissing her forehead before standing with her still attached to you.

“You’re like a koala, you know that?” chuckling at her for not letting go of you, bringing her outside with you and locking the door.

She whines really loudly, “Fuck you, ugh”

“Whyyyyyyy? What did I do?!” gasped back in fake shock, you knew exactly why she was saying it. She rests her head on your shoulder.

“Because, you did that on purpose!” Pouting at the state she’s in.

“Did what on purpose, honey?” kissing her cheeks while walking her to your car that she was planning on drive to the new place.

Nayeon gets down off you and sticks her hands out for your keys with a fake attitude, you dangle them in front of her. She attempts to snatch them, but you’re too quick and she misses.

“Did what on purpose?” poking her chest lightly just to get a little rise out of her.

She leans into your ear closely, playing with the collar of your shirt before she speaks soft sultry words right into you.

“For making me wet and making me wait to feel you.”

Jaw dropping for a second time tonight, she kisses your check tenderly. Winking at you while she bites her lip. She takes the keys out of your hand and replaces them with the U-Haul keys.

“Last one home buys dinner!” rapidly getting into the car and backing out of the driveway.

Still standing in the same spot, unable to stop yourself from smiling at how goofy she is. Shaking your head while giggling, it’s impossible not to fall deeper in love with her by the day.

Turning around one last time, admiring what was home in the afternoon light before getting into the truck and going to what was your next chapter of life.

—

The drive wasn’t too long, maybe 30 minutes at most. Driving in silence, you’re excited to get settled in your new place. Living in the memory of when you and Nayeon toured the apartment you’d be moving into.

Hardwood floors, vaulted ceilings, massive windows that were floor to ceiling, and the lighting fixture in the dinning area that Nayeon fell in love with.

Remembering the way she exclaimed “baby, look at this!” At every turn, around every corner, you both knew this was the place you were going to start the adventure of living together.

The island in the kitchen was what you were particularly excited about, having more room to cook for her when you had a moment. She didn’t know that was the intention, but being able to surprise her with it some night would be great.

Turning the corner to the complex, you already see your car in the assigned spot. Nayeon is leaning on the drivers side door, scrolling through her phone when you back the truck in next to her.

“Ha! Dinner is on you tonight!” Happily skipping over to the drivers side door as you hop out of the truck.

“Yeah, yeah!” waving your hand and rolling your eyes before smirking at her.

“Pepperoni and extra cheese, please!”

“Alright, alright. Let’s go check out the place!” putting your hand out in front of her with puckered lips, waiting for your keys and a kiss, she’s happy to give both.

—

As you reach the elevator, you notice the weight of your keys is different. Looking down while stepping into the metal box what was going to get you to the floor you apartment was on - you notice a light blue key with an N and a heart on it.

Toying with the key in your hand, you look up at her to see she’s distracted and doesn’t know that you’ve noticed the cute little surprise she’s placed on your key ring while she was waiting for you to arrive.

“Baby” called to her softly from a foot away.

Nayeon looks over at you, eyes looking directly into yours and then down at the keys in your hands, showing her the one she placed on your keyring.

She smiles, pulling her keys off her belt loop, flashing you a key with your initial and a heart next to it, in your favorite color.

“I thought it would be a nice cute little surprise for our move in day.” intertwining her pinky with yours.

“Thank you, it’s so cute and thoughtful.”

The elevator dings, sliding the doors open and allowing you and your girlfriend to step into the hallway.

Taking the corridor to the right, Nayeon basically pulling you to the door of your new home. The door was black with shiny brass numbers reflecting back to you.

She slips her key into the door, the heavy lock turns and clicks into place. Nayeon looks over at you and smiles before pushing the door open and squealing in excitement, jumping in place. Gosh, she’s so cute.

Grabbing her hand before she can run inside, you pull her close to you, pressing your body against hers. She’s going to take this as you teasing her, but really you just had something you wanted to do.

“Wait a sec, I think we should be a little traditional about this.”

“Traditional?” Scoffed at you while her hands are wrapped around your waist.

“Yeah, traditional…” placing your hand behind her legs and scooping her up into your arms, bridal style, before she can protest.

Nayeon squeals at being lifted up but her arms instinctively wrap around your neck. When she realizes what you’re doing she starts giggling at the sweetness of the moment.

Unable to take her eyes off you as you take your step over the threshold into your new home. One of her rather large hands descends to your chest, placing it flat under your collar bone.

“Home.” said lightly under your breath but loud enough for her to hear you, panning the emptiness of the apartment you were about to fill with not only your physical things, but the love you had for each other.

Removing her hand off your chest, she uses her fingers to turn your head towards her and kisses you softly.

“Home.” Pointing one of her fingers into your chest, bring her lips back to yours.

Resting your foreheads together, you lower her legs to signal her to stand on her own. She whines in protest, leaning against you as she fights against regaining her balance.

“Are you ready?” Grabbing her hand, looking her in the eyes and smiling.

“Never been more ready, actually.” Kissing the top of your hand, grabbing her phone and checking her messages to see the other team of movers was outside and ready to move the furniture into your new space.

“They’re here!” Gleefully jumping in place again before heading for the door.

“Let’s go!” Following closely behind her and slapping her ass playfully.

Nayeon lets out a soft moan. Whipping around to look at you to see if you’ve heard, covering her mouth with her hand trying to hide her own shock and the flushing in her cheeks.

Eye widen as before you let out a thunderous laugh.

“Don’t worry, baby. We can take care of that later.” Kissing her forehead and leading her down to the elevator by her hand, with her trying to cover the flushed cheeks she now wears in embarrassment.

—

“Hmm…maybe a little more to the left? This doesn’t feel centered to me.” Nayeon is pensive, finger on her cheek as she asks the movers, yet again, to move the bed over so it’s perfectly centered in your new bedroom.

“Babe, it looks fine where it is!” Chiming in from the closet where you were hanging all of the clothes you had smartly packed on hangers so they’d be easier to deal with.

Organizing the closet so the left side was hers and the right side was yours, you could hear her sigh from the other room.

Picturing her exact movements in your minds eye, you knew she was shifting her weight from one leg to another, biting her pointer finger with her other arm crossed over her chest.

“Okay…I hear you…but what if we scooted it over just a little bit to the ri-“ sneaking up behind her and silencing her with a soft bite to the neck causing her to stifle a whine.

“I think it’s perfect where it is, Nayeon.” kissing her cheek before you turn your attention to the movers.

“Thank you so much for your help today!” shaking their hands as they leave the room and walk out the front door.

“Baby, I really don’t know if I like the bed in this position or not.” Nayeon’s hands are on her hips again, trying to figure out if it would look better centered on the other wall.

“Honey…we can rearrange any time we want. No worries, let’s just get the rest of the house together, okay?” you throw the sheets at her for her to make the bed she was scowling at and head back to continue what you’ve been doing in the closet.

Nayeon followed you into the closet, sheets in hand, with a pout that would make anyone drop what they’re doing to please her.

“What’s wrong, my love?” Pausing the organizing of your clothes as you spoke to her.

“I’m hungry and the bed is crooked.” she sighs and give a playful little stomp, throwing the cutest tantrum you’ve ever seen.

“I’ll order the pizza now then, okay?” pulling your phone out to send through the order you already prepared for the two of you.

“But what about the bed?”

“We can fix it later, okay? Just put the sheets on it and we will worry about it after dinner.”

Nayeon rolls her eyes and heads out of the closet to complete the task at hand.

After about 5 minutes goes by, a frustrated grumble echoes through the room, followed by shouting and sighing.

“Ugh! This bed is crooked! It’s not freaking centered!” Nayeon huffs as she finishes putting the sheets on, trying to scoot the heavy bed and frame over an inch or two to make it “centered”.

She’s so dramatic.

You adore this part of her.

“Let me see.” Finishing up the last of the closet and stepping out to see what she how “crooked” it was.

The bed was straight against the wall…there’s no way it could’ve actually been crooked. Giving her a side eyed glare, you lightly push her shoulder.

“It’s perfectly straight, what do you mean?” Chuckling at her while you put your hands up in confusion.

“No, it’s not! Look!”

Nayeon squats down in front of the bed, point and explaining how it’s not lined up with the floor boards and all you can do is admire how passionately she’s making her case about something so silly.

Just smiling, you walk up to her as she continues on her rant about the bed.

“So you see, that’s why it’s not straight because this is…not…” tilting her head up, eyes lacing every part of you as you step up to her and place a finger under her chin.

“I think it looks good, don’t you?” leading her to stand, her eyes still not leaving you.

Nayeon stutters through her mentions of now suddenly agreeing with you.

“O-oh, uhm…y-yes, I don’t t-think we should move it at all.”

She’s so cute.

Hooking a finger into on of her belt loop, tugging it so she somewhat falls into you. Using that to your advantage, swiftly turning and falling yourself. Landing flat with your back on the bed with her strategically on top of you.

Her surprised face hovering over yours, she hoists her leg over your torso, straddling your hips instinctively and putting you right back where you were only a few hours ago at your old apartment.

“Oops, wow! I can’t believe you would trip like that. So clumsy of you! Even if I do love meeting you like this…” tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear.

“And what if I meet you like this” leaning in and brushing her lips against yours, the warmth between her legs gives a flash of familiarity, and her sultry tone brings a rush of endorphins, melting your heart and ruining any sense of composure you had.

“I can feel your heart beating…do I still make you nervous?” whispered against your lips before connecting them completely.

Soft and slow turns into passionate and needy very quickly.

The steamy make out session escalated into you tugging Nayeon’s shirt off, trying to minimize the time your lips spent apart.

Nayeon’s tongue tracing your lips before she stood up and started undoing on your belt, the clattering of her impatience matching the buckle as it hit the floor.

Hastily unbuttoning your pants, tugging them down without hesitation. She needed you, rapid movements serve as proof of her hunger, the way she doesn’t care how aggressively she’s ripping the black denim off your thighs.

Haphazardly tossing each piece of clothing as she rips it off you, first your belt, then your pants, and your shirt following very closely behind, your hands helping discard the unwanted fabric.

“Finally…I get to have you how I’ve been wanting you allll da-“

The doorbell cuts her sentence off.

“You’re kidding…” Nayeon’s body tenses, sighing as she runs a finger down your stomach as she rolls her eyes in disdain at who ever just pushed the button that caused the chime that stopped her from taking you the way she had been imagining.

“That would be dinner.” Giggling at her frustration, only adding to it.

Nayeon just rolls her eyes and stands up, grabbing her shirt and throwing it on while mumbling to herself and mindlessly flicking off the front door before opening it.

You opt to just slip on a pair of black sweat pants and walk around in your sports bra, leaving your bedroom and hearing her say thank you to the pizza delivery boy before latching the door shut and locking it.

Grabbing some paper plates from the kitchen, bringing them to the empty living room and sitting on the floor next to Nayeon, and turning the TV on to put on a random YouTube video while you guys eat.

Taking a few bites and then looking over at her, you see she’s scrolling through her phone with an annoyed look on her face.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“What do you think about this?” Flipping her phone around to show a coffee table with a glass top made of light wood and gold accents.

“Oh that’s cute!” Leaning into her and scrolling to see if it had any matching sets.

“So I was thinking” she starts, “what if we did like a sage green with gold accents and with like light wood and a lot of plants for the living room.” taking a bite of her slice of pizza and doing a little happy dance now that she’s finally eating.

“I love that idea but let’s do a little contrast.” Clicking on the black version of the gold laced table and showing her.

“Wait…you might be on to something here.” Scrolling down and seeing the matching furniture that goes along with the table.

“I did save a couch I saw, let me find it.” quickly pulling up the lighter green couch she had in mind and showing it to you.

“Oh, babe, that’s perfect!” Leaning over and kissing her cheeks before taking another bite of your pizza.

“I think it would match so well with the gold accents and…” she rattles on about

Spending the entirety of dinner talking about placement and furniture, you find yourselves tired from a long day of planning, organizing and moving things around.

Taking it upon yourself to pack up the left-overs from dinner in the kitchen, you can’t help but wonder where your girlfriend has gone off too.

“Nayeonieeeeeeeee!” called out when you hear her cackle from the master bedroom.

“I’m in here, baby!” echoed off the walls to the empty living room.

“You better not moving that bed again!” Sliding the pizza box into the fridge, laughing to yourself about the joke you just made.

“I’m NOT! Ugh!” you walk into your new shared bedroom to see Nayeon on FaceTime with Momo, talking about the moving process and how smoothly it went with the company she recommended.

Catching her attention was fairly easy as you were still very shirtless and the sweatpants you wore to cover up were a little big on you, falling off almost so the waistband of your underwear was sticking out for her to see.

“Momo when you come over tomorrow, we will give you a tour! Besides we still have some…things to…” she’s staring right at you, eye shifting from your exposed waistband up to your bare torso.

An idea pops into your head, an idea that would bring her to her knees and back to where you were an hour or two ago.

Making eye contact with her while she zones out, you tug on the string that is keeping your sweatpants anchored on your hips, letting them drop to the floor before you step out of them. Her jaw drops at how suddenly exposed you are with only your panties and your bra covering you…for now.

Slipping your fingers under the hem of what was covering your chest, you slowly pull it off over your head, leaving you in just your underwear. Twirling the bra by it’s strap around your finger, you fling it at her, it lands on her legs.

Nayeon’s eyes bugged out of her head, like a cartoon character, as she sat up - readjusting her position out of what seemed to be a little bit of gay panic mixed with anticipation.

“….hey, uhm…let me call you back.” Nayeon quickly hangs up the phone as Momo’s protest began through the speaker.

“Wait! Nayeon we have to talk abou-” click.

You have her right where you want her.

She stands, hastily making her way over to you. Hands reaching out to make contact, she’s pulling you in close, laying her hands on your hips and tracing small circles that travel to your lower back and to the waistband she was just staring at.

“You have all my attention, honey.” kissing your cheeks, trailing feather-light kisses down your jaw line and onto the side of your neck before bringing her lips back to yours.

Within minutes of this sweet dangerous kiss beginning, you’d devolve into a melted version of your former self with only her name stuck in your throat and the flavor of her lips at the tip of your tongue as it familiarizes itself with hers again, noting every predicted movement and sway of her as she holds you in front of her.

Arms raising up and resting on her shoulders, your fingers weave with her hair, pulling her into your further and pressing your chest against her same purple shirt from earlier.

“Take this off.” parting from her for only a moment to give her the command to remove the article of clothing that was in your way before returning your mouth to hers.

Maintaining eye contact, she rips her shirt over her head, tossing it somewhere else and continuing on the entanglement you were creating with her, unsnapping her bra and letting it chase her shirt to else where.

Now shirtless with you, chests pressing up against each other, she takes charge. Leading you to the “crooked” bed and pushing you down onto the sheets, playfully.

“Finally,” she breathes, unbuttoning her shorts and letting them fall to the floor and kicking them out of the way.

“I’ve been thinking about this since I saw you this morning. And when you carried me over the threshold?” clenching her entire body at the memory, a familiar shutter cascades through her body.

“I never wanted you more than in that moment…except for maybe right now.”

Watching as she relaxes again, her hands on either side of you, and she’s making half lidded eye contact with you when she brings a hand down your stomach, ghosting it over your underwear and reminding your body of what it was feeling earlier.

Leaning down to kiss you again, she’s intensifying her touch on you. Rubbing your clit through the now damp fabric of your underwear and letting you moan and whine into her mouth. The touch is fueling every fire you’ve felt in the last 12 hours.

“Fuck…Nayeon” whined into her mouth as she pulls your panties to the side, drenching her finger in your slick, coasting it up and down your slit while you match her movements with your hips.

She spends a moment kissing and toying with your chest, flicking your nipples with her tongue, lightly grazing her teeth over them. She slithers back up to your face and kisses you again.

“Finally touching you after a long day of wanting to feel you like this…” bringing her hand up to lick your essence off her long digits.

“To taste you like this…” bringing her lips down to yours, kissing you deeply and letting your own taste linger on your tongue.

Usually being the one that maintains composure, you were finding it difficult to keep the pace steady, after all the “almost” moments earlier today, you were having thoughts of just flipping her over and doing all the work.

Intense bodily reactions that are out of your control fling you into desperation, body begging for more of her touch, and gripping her harder to make sure she knows what you want, though it was obvious, your body language gave you away.

The rocking of your hips, the repressed moans, the less than pure lust that burned you from the inside were shinning through every single motion you made.

Nayeon noticed.

Her teeth graze your ear before she descended down your body with small bites, intentional swipes of her tongue and soft sweet pecks in between.

It wasn’t long before your ass was hanging off the edge of the bed and she was on her knees between your legs.

Without even looking at her, you can feel the smirk she has as she tugs on the elastic that was holding what was in her way up, and removes it - almost ripping it in the process.

“Damn, baby. You look so fucking good like this.” running her thumb up and over your clit a few times, teasing your entrance with every few passes.

Brain glitching under her touch, the cravings were too strong and you were too addicted to contain yourself any longer. Thrusting your hips down on her next tease of your entrance, her thumb slips inside you causing a guttural moan to leave your throat.

“Someone is eager.” giggled at you before removing her thumb, licking your slick off of it.

Whining in protest, you are about to beg for her when you feel it. The warmth of her tongue, starting at the bottom of your entrance and snaking its way up your folds and over your clit before latching onto it.

“Nayeon, ple- ooooh fuck!” hissed out in pleasure, hands flying up to the back of her head, wrapping her hair up in your hands and holding it into a makeshift ponytail as her tongue made work of you.

A delicate dance that she was more than good at, teasing and flicking at your sensitive bud before finally starting the pattern that she knew was what was going to keep you right where she needed you.

Sucking and smacking while she whirled her tongue in tightknit circles around your clit, completely focused on the way your back was arching, body twitching underneath her, and the sounds you were making for her.

Moaning her name, the breathy “oh fucks”, and the unprovoked “please please please” always made a mess of her underwear. She loved to hear you in this way, loved to have you in such a vulnerably delicious position to which she could bring you every ounce of pleasure you could ever want.

The build up ensues, the tightly woven tension in your core was stacking like tetris on the want that had been taunting you all day. Deep, primal yearning for your partner was all consuming and it was apparent that the feeling was mutual.

That’s when you feel it, her long pointer finger teasing your entrance, waiting for you to do exactly what Nayeon knew you would. Thrusting your hips down onto her finger and grinding onto it, doing the work for her while she quickened the pace of her circular movements on your clit.

The vibration of her chuckling with her mouth still attached to you was excruciating. Giggling at your neediness only made the desperation worse, vibrating and stimulating the very sensitive bud causing the pot to boil over, burning the coil that threatened to snap at any moment.

“Baby…oh fuck, I’m gonna fucking cum” pulling her head closer to you and grinding harder down on her finger.

Nayeon smiles, curling her finger up one, two, three times and then rips herself away from you.

Completely dismantling everything she just built, ruining the orgasm and sending you into a spiral of desperation and anger.

“Fuck, WHY would you do THAT?!” panting out furiously as you sit up on your elbows so you can glare at the cheeky smile she’s got plastered on her face.

Rolling your eyes and slamming yourself back down on the mattress, you hear the sound of leather sliding across the wooden nightstand. Nayeon stands, stepping into the harness of the all too familiar strap-on that was very present on nights like this.

The actual strap was different than your usual one, noting that the rings were more angular, the color of the leather was slightly darker, and you couldn’t help but notice the new attachment that was fixed to the strap that would go between Nayeon’s legs.

Slipping it inside herself with ease, a whimper leaving her lips while she buckled herself in and prepared for what was to come.

Feeling yourself drip in anticipation, the pooling of slick underneath you was rapidly growing out of control as Nayeon tugged your hips closer to the edge of the bed.

You could feel the tip of the familiar toy pressing against your folds as she leaned down and softly bit your chest. Shivers of anticipation radiated through your bones as you patiently waited for her to make the initial thrust that would turn into you becoming undone underneath her.

Breathing picking up for both of you, the tension so thick between you that every touch from her felt like jolts of static electricity that had the power of lightening.

“Baby…” unable to wait anymore, you had thought about her this way all day, on top of you with that half lidded smirk.

“Please.” Cupping her face, bringing her closer to you while lifting your legs up and wrapping them around her hips.

Taking the hint, she eases her hips forward, sinking her strap into you painstakingly slow, inch by inch until she was completely bottomed out inside you.

Moaning into her mouth as you continue to passionately make out, she takes it slow with you. Sensually rocking her hips gently and letting her hands wander your body while your tongues explored each others mouths.

Hardly any words shared at all, the moment too intense, and all too intimate to even think of exchanging witty banter. Hushed moans and whines filling the minimal space between the you and her, mixed in with the pure pleasure and the eager pants from Nayeon.

Bliss drapes your body with each thrust Nayeon made, you gave a small gasp at each stroke she laid into you. Paired with her own sounds of pleasure, you were consumed by her.

“I’m gonna cum…fuck” whispered to her with intense eye contact that has her breath hitching. Her thrusts speed up, a steady crescendo building up higher and higher in both of you until finally hit the point of pure ecstasy.

Your vision blurs as your body trembles, moans escaping your throat in rapid succession. Drenched in ecstasy, you twitch and buck your hips, riding out the waves of your intense orgasm.

Nayeon glistens with a thin sheen of sweat as she maintains her rhythm. Despite your body clenching around the strap, making it challenging for her to continue, she perseveres undeterred, chasing her own pleasure while overstimulating you.

A stream of passionate words accompanies the matching sounds as you both murmur intensely to each other. Nayeon grasps your hands, pinning them above your head, her hips snapping faster and faster.

Watching her closely through your post orgasm haze, you observe her brows furrowing—a sign she's nearing her peak.

As her rhythm falters, you seize the moment. Using your legs, you swiftly roll her over, positioning yourself on top of her.

Grinding down on the strap, now building another orgasm as it rubs against all the right spots, you can feel her body tensing under you.

“Cum for me, baby. I know how much you wanting this all day.” Sultry tone sensually whispered to her as you begin to slam yourself down on her, letting the attachment do the work.

Her eyes roll back, body tensed, back arched as she releases- a mess created on the sheets. Her whimpers loud, hands grasping at you, trying to tug you closer to her and successfully doing so.

Her nails dig into your hips as she guides you up and down on her, mouths connecting, your hand crawling up to weave into her hair.

“Oh fuck…feels so fucking good” breathed against her lips, her hands snake under your thighs, stopping you from riding her.

Thrusting up into you, holding you up while you drape your body over hers, allowing yourself to untether and get lost in the moment.

“Give me one more, honey. I know you want to.” Followed by a few bites to your neck.

The want in her words were enough to send you over the edge once more. She wraps her arms around you, holding you into place while continuing to trust up into you, creating a plethora of sounds that would put any adult film to shame.

Slowly coming down, you bury your face in her neck and smile into her.

“Ugh that was so worth the wait.” huffed into her skin as she draws little pictures with her nails on your back, writing words like “I love you” and your name and her name with hearts.

“Are you writing poetry on my back?” quizzically asked with a hint of sleepiness as you sit up on her.

“I don’t need to write poetry on what already is poetry, my love.” sitting up to deeply kiss you and hug you, all while the strap is still inside you.

Standing up to go and grab another set of sheets, Nayeon takes a moment to clean the strap in the bathroom, dry it off, and put it back in the drawer.

Returning to the bed, you pull the sheets off, walking through your house to place them in the washer and flick it on before you return to the room.

Nayeon and you make the bed together, changing the pillow cases so they match the new sheets you just placed on them.

“Do you want to take a quick shower with me?” after finally placing the comforter on the bed.

Nayeon walks over to you, putting her arms around your waist and kissing you again.

“Absolutely” leading you to the bathroom so you can wash up together.

Turning to her after she turns the shower on, you smirk at her.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she scoffs, pulling out some towels from the linen closet for you both to use.

“I just love you…also, I think the bed IS crooked…at least it is now…” giggling at her.

Nayeon just glares at you, you can almost see her eye twitch with rage when she finally exclaims:

“SEE, I TOLD YOU IT WAS CROOKED!”

[soulofapatrick]

You Drive Me Crazy - Monkey D. Luffy x Reader

Summary: Wandering a new town with Luffy makes you give into your feelings for him

Words: 2.2k

warning: none

Y/N’s POV

As we step off the Thousand Sunny onto the weathered wooden planks of the port, the air thrums with a vibrant energy that’s palpable. The town stretches out before us, a colourful tapestry of bustling streets lined with shops flaunting an array of goods, from exotic fruits to peculiar trinkets. The scent of saltwater intermingles with the atomic wafts of street food, drawing me deeper into this lively maze of a town. 

Luffy, of course, is first off the ship, bounding with a contagious enthusiasm as always, “Let’s explore!” He grins, his russet eyes twinkling with anticipation. 

Before I can even reply, Luffy has grabbed my hand and begun dragging me in one direction while the rest of the crew disperses, each drawn to their own curiosities. Luffy and I have unwittingly wandered into a maze of alleys, absorbed in the town’s enchanting chaos. 

“Whoa, look at that!” Luffy pants excitedly at a display of vibrant fabrics hanging from a nearby stall. With a burst of enthusiasm, Luff charges towards the stall, his eyes wide with wonder as he examines the vivd fabrics. His excitement is infectious, and despite my attempt to catch up, his strides are longer, leaving me to trail behind. 

“Luffy! Wait up!” I call out between giggles, trying to keep pace with his uncontainable energy. 

Suddenly, as if he realises he’s moved too far ahead, Luffy halts and turns around, a wide grin splitting his face, “Oh, sorry, Y/N!” His hand shoots out instinctively, finding mine in the midst of the bustling crowds. My cheeks flush at the unexpected contact, a warmth spreading from where our hands touch. It’s a simple gesture, his fingers loosely intertwining with mine, but it sends a jolt of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. 

“It’s okay,” I manage to reply, trying to steady my voice, though my heart is racing. Walking side by side, hand in hand with Luffy, feels both surreal and strangely comforting. His grip is firm yet gentle, and his infectious excitement continues to bubble up. 

As we navigate the colourful streets hand in hand, Luffy’s enthusiasm leads us on a whirlwind tour of the town. His eyes light up at every new discover—a street performer captivating a crowd with juggling tricks, a tantalising aroma wafting from a bustling food cart, and the vibrant tapestry of local art adorning the walls of narrow alleyways. 

“Lufe, maybe we should try and find the rest of the crew.” I suggest gently, trying to steer our exploration towards reuniting with the rest of the Straw Hats, especially Zoro who has absolutely no sense of direction. 

“Hmmm, yeah! Food first, though.” Luffy grins, his stomach rumbling audibly in agreement. He squeezes my hand lightly before leading the way, his strides purposeful as he follows his nose in pursuit of a tantalising scent. We traverse through a maze of alleys, peeking into quirky shops and exchanging smiles with locals. Despite the urgency to regroup, there’s an undeniable thrill in discovering the town’s hidden gems alongside Luffy. 

It makes me want to be brave and bold. The impulse hits me like a sudden gust of wind, a surge of courage mingled with the thrill of the moment. Without much thought, I tug Luffy down a secluded alleyway, away from the bustling crowds, his puzzled expression asking the unspoken question.

“Y/N?” He blinks, caught off guard by the sudden shift in your trajectory. Before I can second-guess myself, I halt us in a secluded nook, where the sound of the bustling town fades into a distant murmur. My heart pounds in my chest, adrenaline coursing through me as I turn to face him. In the quiet intimacy of the secluded alleyway, where the town's vibrant chaos faded into a distant hum, I grappled with the weight of unspoken emotions. My attempts to voice the tangled mess of feelings faltered, lost amidst the charged air that enveloped us.

“Lufe…” I start to speak, my voice trembling with a mix of nervousness and determination, trying to formulate my thoughts as his gaze, unwavering yet expectant, meets mine, a silent invitation to unravel the unspoken words between us. But before I can gather the courage to speak, a flicker of movement—the swift swipe of his tongue over his bottom lip—sends a jolt through me, a jolt through me, a momentary distraction that leaves me spellbound. Driven by an overwhelming rush of emotion, I act on impulse, my hands finding their place on his shoulders. With a mixture of anticipation and nervousness, I guide him backwards until his back meets the solid embrace of the alley’s wall.

“Lu.. I…” I try to confess, the words escaping in a soft exhale, tinged with vulnerability, “You drive me fucking crazy.” I mutter more to myself than him, my cheeks burning with a blend of embarrassment and raw honesty. 

In that suspended moment, where the world fades into insignificance and all that exists is the fragile space between us, I lean in. Our lips meet, tentative yet fervent, in a collision that feels like a confession whispered against the canvas of the quiet alleyway. 

His lips, warm and tender, surprise me by responding with a hesitance that mirrors my own. It’s a dance of uncertainty and longing, an unspoken exchange that thrums with uncharted territory and the untold stories hidden within us. As our breaths mingle and the kiss deepens, it’s a tentative exploration, a voyage into uncharted waters of intimacy. Each touch, each brush of his lips against mine, is a revelation—an awakening that crackles with an exhilarating newness and an unspoken understanding that transcends mere words. 

Breaking the kiss feels like severing a fragile thread connecting us, the weight of uncertainty settling upon my shoulders like an unwelcome burden. I’m hesitant to meet Luffy’s gaze, unsure of what lays behind those eyes—was it merely a response to my impulsive action, or did it echo the silent sentiments I harboured?

I step back, a tentative distance between us, the quiet of the alleyway suddenly suffocating. The moment hangs in the hair, the echo of our shared kiss lingering on my lips, something sweet and Luffy-esque. Avoiding his eyes, I find myself grappling with a whirlwind of emotions, a tempest of hope and fear swirling within. 

Before I can fathom his response or make sense of the sudden silent tension, Luffy’s left arm swoops around my waist with practiced ease. There’s no time to react as he effortlessly lifts me, prompting my legs to instinctively encircle his waist. His right hand is warm as it finds the back of my neck, guiding my face down towards his, and before I can protests or resist, like I actually would, his lips crash against mine in a fervent embrace. 

My back meets the unyielding surface of the alleyway wall this time, the impact jolting me into the present moment. There’s a rush of heat and urgency in the way his lips meld with mine, a passionate hunger that takes me by surprise. His kiss is a tempest, a whirlwind that pulls me deeper into the unspoken connection between us. The weight of his touch, the searing fervour of our shared intimacy, sends a shockwave of conflicting emotions through me. 

Our lips collide over and over again in a fervent dance, a tumultuous tangle of emotions woven into the fervour of our shared embrace. Luffy’s touch, both tender and ardent, sends a cascade of sensations through me, the heat of his palm against my waist searing through the fabric. My own hands find refuge in the soft but tousled strands of his hair, a silent plea for grounding amidst the whirlwind of emotions. As our mouths meld in an urgent exchange, his fingers trial along the curve of my back, a fiery caress that ignites a symphony of sensations. The weight of his touch, the way he draws me closer in an embrace that’s both fierce and tender, speaks volumes where words fail.

We linger in that impassioned embrace, an unspoken understanding passing between us, a silent dialogue in the language of touch. Each press of our bodies against each other feels like a desperate attempt to bridge the gap between uncertainty and longing. But the need for air becomes a pressing reality, an unspoken signal that interrupts the fervour. Reluctantly, we draw apart, breaths mingling in the shared space between us. Our gazes meet, a silent understanding passing between us, the residue of shared intimacy and unanswered questions hanging heavy in the air. 

In that suspended moment, the air between us seems charged with unspoken revelations, the weight of our shared connection palpable. My cheeks flush with warmth, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips, mirroring the one on Luffy's face—a silent acknowledgment of the shared understanding between us.

“I didn’t realise you wanted it to.” I murmur, my voice soft and laced with a blend of bashfulness and contentment, the surge of warmth spreading through me as our eyes meet. 

“I like kissing you.” Luffy admits, his words hanging in the charged atmosphere, his cheeks tinted with a shy hue that mirrors my own. His gaze flits down to my lips, an unspoken invitation that lingers between us.

Before I can fully comprehend his words, he leans in once again, his lips finding mine in a tender yet fervent embrace. His kiss is a revelation, an electrifying sensation that ignites a fiery longing within me. As his lips mold against mine, I feel an inexplicable surge of warmth and a sense of belonging wash over me. 

His tongue dips into the dance, an exploration that sends shivers down my spine, an intimate connection that speaks volumes of unspoken desire. The sensation is electric, a mixture of fervour and tenderness that takes my breath away. Then, with a daring passion, he trails his lips along the curve of my neck, leaving an indelible mark—a soft, heated exchange that leaves a tingling sensation in its wake. His fervent gesture evokes a flutter of anticipation and a rush of emotions, the tender contact sending ripples of desire through me. 

The alleyway seems to fade into insignificance as the world narrows down to the electrifying touch of his lips against my skin. The rush of emotions—desire, longing, and an unspoken connection—becomes a silent symphony in the quiet embrace of that moment.

After marking my neck with a couple of lingering kisses, Luffy returns to my lips, a renewed hunger in his touch, a passionate hunger that speaks of unspoken desires. Our kiss becomes a passionate exchange, a dance of emotions that transcends the tangible, leaving me breathless and wanting more, lost in the whirlwind of our unspoken connection. 

In the midst of our make-out session, the alleyway is suddenly filled with the sound of approaching footsteps, an unexpected intrusion into the bubble of intimacy we've woven around ourselves. The air crackles with an unspoken tension as Sanji, Nami, and Zoro materialise at the end of the alleyway, their expressions ranging from surprise to a hint of amusement. 

Sanji's eyes widen, caught off guard by the unexpected sight, a mix of disbelief and curiosity flickering across his features. Nami's gaze flits between Luffy and me, a subtle quirk of her eyebrow betraying her surprise, while Zoro, ever stoic, seems to register the situation with a muted incredulity. But amidst the surprise of being caught in such a compromising position, Luffy doesn't lower me to the ground. Instead, he remains composed, his arms still securely holding me, a carefree grin lighting up his face. "Oh! Hi guys!" he calls out cheerfully, as if the current situation were the most normal thing in the world. 

My cheeks flush with heat, a mixture of embarrassment and disbelief at the unexpected interruption. I can feel their eyes on us, their varied reactions a tableau of surprise and amusement. It's as though time has frozen, the unspoken tension between Luffy and me hanging palpably in the air, unacknowledged but impossible to ignore. 

Luffy's nonchalant greeting, coupled with the lack of any attempt to explain or release me, adds a surreal edge to the moment. Despite the interruption, he seems unfazed, his carefree demeanour standing in stark contrast to the tension that simmers between us. 

"Uh, hey," I manage to utter, my voice a mix of awkwardness and attempt at normalcy, my gaze darting between the surprised faces of our crewmates and the unyielding hold Luffy maintains, refusing to let me go. 

Sanji's lips part as if to say something, but he's momentarily lost for words, a mixture of astonishment and curiosity written across his face. Nami, on the other hand, lets out an amused chuckle, a knowing glint in her eyes that betrays her thoughts, while Zoro's impassive expression remains unchanged, though a hint of bemusement lurks in his eyes.

Luffy finally puts me down but slides his hand into mine, squeezing lightly and his russet eyes shine with joy and excitement before he says something oh so Luffy-like: 

“Let’s eat!”

One Piece Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[lou-struck]

The Hall Of Faces

Diavolo x reader x Barbatos

WC: 2.9k

~ After a trip through the palace’s art gallery, you find that a picture of Diavolo may need to be updated.

Warnings: Mention of eating humans, moments with both Barbatos and Diavolo showing their love of the reader.

No matter how many times you find yourself visiting the castle, you can't help but think it is one of the most beautiful places you have ever seen.

Despite being thousands of years old, its gleaming marble flooring looks brand new, and the historic art and statues line the halls with museum-level prestige. Every time you walk the long, carpeted hallways you always seem to find something new to captivate you. 

On this visit, you find yourself following Barbatos down a grand window-lit hallway. Although he tries to keep his excitement at your visit to himself, you notice there is a joyful spring in his step as he leads you. "Thank you for joining the young master and I for tea this afternoon. I prepared a wonderful selection for us on the west balcony that should be to your liking."

"Of course Barbatos, thank you for the invitation," you say watching as his deep green eyes shimmer under the moonlight. "I don't believe I have been in this wing of the Castle yet."

"Then it is my pleasure to be the first to guide you," he replies with a smile. He slows his pace, allowing you to walk beside him. The two of you walk in content silence, enjoying the comfort of each other's presence, until you notice a strange-looking vase resting on an elegant pedestal. It seems to be composed of two types of clay: one looks like melted pearls that seem to absorb the light of the moon, and the other is a matte ebony material. The contrast between the light and dark is so captivating you stop to look at it.

Barbatos, sensing your distraction, chuckles behind you, "I thought that would catch your eye," he muses. "Would you like to know the significance of this piece?"

"I would," you nod. It takes so much self-restraint to not trace your fingers along the priceless art, but somehow, you manage to resist the urge not to touch it.

"This vase contains two different types of clay, one from the Celestial Realm and one from one of the depths of the Devildom. Usually, these substances repel from one another, but thanks to a bit of water from the human world, they are able to come together and create something beautiful."

"That's amazing," you breathe, looking at this art, this manifestation of what can happen when all three realms work together.

"I knew you'd appreciate its beauty," he smiles. "Shall we continue?"

You nod as he holds out his arm to escort you down the hallway. 

The palace is a labyrinth, and after turning right, then left, and then right again, you find yourself staring down a long hallway littered with portraits on the walls. 

"What is this place?" you ask, passing the painted eyes of regal-looking demons that seem to follow your movements. 

"This is the hall of faces," Barbatos answers. "It is a place to honor those who have made a difference in the Devildom, past royalty, war heroes, and other notable figures."

"I see." your eyes rest on a figure with broad shoulders and familiar-looking eyes. "Is that?"

Barbatos' face falls slightly, "Yes, that is his majesty the King, the young master's father."

"Diavolo's father," you repeat, letting your eyes wander from the darkened painting to the one next to it. One of the Prince himself. But instead of the tender warmth in the Prince's features, you find him looking stern and cold. "That doesn't look like him," you murmur. "I hate that someday people will walk by this portrait and not see him as the ruler he is."

"I agree," Barbatos says. Although it is a subtle shift, you detect a hint of disdain in his voice as he pulls his gaze from the painting. "The artist who painted this portrait, and many others, is well renowned but does not know or care of the true light of the Young Masters' smile."

"He sounds like a jerk," you grumble, stepping away from the painting.

Barbatos laughs; the sound is light but pleasant. "That certainly is one of the many words to describe the Artist. Come, let me escort you to the balcony. I fear the Young Master will become jealous if I steal you for the entirety of your visit today."

You take his outstretched arm and allow the Butler to guide you away from the Hall of Faces and to the eagerly awaited tea party. But as you get farther and farther away from the portrait, you cannot rid yourself of the effect Diavolo's portrait had on you.

~

The balcony air is warm and comforting as you raise a hand-painted teacup to your lips. It's warm, rose-scented steam tickling your nose with it's tantalizing fragrance, 

"Mc, is something troubling you?" The Prince asks gently from his seat next to you. He places his large hand on top of the one you have resting on the table's edge. "You seem troubled today."

You place your teacup back onto its saucer on the table and look at his handsome face fondly. "It's nothing, just lost in thought."

Barbatos lets out an amused chuckle as he comes up behind you to top off your cup. His gloved hand rests gently on your shoulder. "Mc and I walked through the Hall of Faces today, Young Master."

Diavolo's smile falls slightly as he shifts nervously in his seat. "Oh. So you saw my portrait?" There is an embarrassment in his gaze that makes you wonder if looking at royal portraits of the past is the Devildom equivalent of looking through your friends' old middle school yearbooks. 

You nod hesitantly. "I did."

"And what did you think of it?" he asks, his golden gaze coaxing the truth out of you. 

"It didn't look like you," you admit. "I mean, it was you in the picture, but it was weird seeing you look so serious and unhappy.."

"So you think I am unserious?" he smiles amusedly. 

"No. I just really like your smile," you admit, shyly grabbing a lemon cake from the three-tiered stands.

"Well then, I suppose it's about time for me to update my portrait," he says, looking over to his Butler. "Barbatos, can you please fit that into our schedule?"

"Absolutely, young master. How about midday tomorrow?" The Butler hums thoughtfully. He knows the Prince's schedule by heart. 

"Wonderful, and does that work for you Mc?"

"Me?" you ask with a mouthful of cake; a bit of the glaze drips down your chin as you look at the two demons in bewilderment. 

"Of course," the Prince laughs, handing you a handkerchief to wipe your face. "You are the one responsible for this appointment, so It is only fair that you join us for an afternoon."

He says it lightheartedly so you know that if you truly had something going on, or if you did not want to go. You would not have to. But in truth, sitting for a royal portrait probably isn't something that happens very often; your curiosity gets the better of you, and you find yourself happily along with the Prince.

Both demons, seeing your acceptance, look absolutely elated. Diavolo flashes you a sincere grin as he claps his hands together. "Wonderful, then we look forward to spending the afternoon with you."

~

The next day, you find yourself sitting in the Parlor at the castle. Diabolo is finishing up a meeting and Barbatos is greeting the Artist at the doors. Apparently this Demon is older than the Butler himself, having been the one responsible for painting most of the portraits in the Hall of Faces. The idea of meeting such an ancient being makes your stomach bubble up with nerves as you wonder what they are like. 

Looking around the Parlor, you notice that the room looks a bit different than normal; the furniture has been tastefully rearranged to make room for a lavish-looking armchair and an art station across from it. Instead of the typical moonlight streaming in through the large windows, some kind of enchantment on the glass fills the room with something close to sunlight.

When you close your eyes, you can almost feel the warmth on your face. 

You hear a soft chuckle from across the room as Barabtos comes in carrying a large, worn case with little streaks and splatters of color on its surface. "The artist prefers to work in the light." he smiles, setting down what must be painting supplies. 

"Can't say I mind it," you smile as the demon strides across the room, around your chair, and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. This little act of affection is reserved for the moments when the two of you can be alone. 

"Then I'll make sure to use this spell more often." he smiles, placing his gloved hand on your shoulder. You find yourself getting lost in the warmth of his emerald gaze just as the parlor doors burst open. 

A short demon, swimming in a bright smock, takes quick, impatient steps into the room. His skin is the color of dried dandelion petals, and his tail is tipped like a paintbrush. "Canvazu," Barbatos greets, stepping between you and the Demon politely. "It is a pleasure having you join us today."

"Yes, yes, you said it before; now, where is my subject?" he says with a wave of his hand. 

"the young master will be here momentarily," The Butler says. In the meantime, Lord Diavolo would like to invite you to enjoy some refreshments."

"Diavolo?" The Demon, you now know as Cavazu, questions, "Haven't I painted that one before?"

"Indeed you have," Barbatos answers calmly, but you know him well enough to know that the Artist's disrespectful question irritates him greatly. "But as he plans to take the Devildom into a new era, he wishes to have an updated photo."

"I see." The Artist says shortly as his eyes take on a slightly red hue. Curiously, you lean forward to get a closer look. His pupils look like splatters of paint and seem to change color depending on his mood. Your movement catches his eye, and he notices your presence for the first time since he has arrived. 

"A live one, eh?" he says, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "This Prince of yours has some questionable taste. I prefer my humans slow-cooked."

You shift back in your seat as the hair on the back of your neck stands up straight. Do you know that eating humans has been outlawed and the Devildom for quite some time? Maybe this guy is so old he missed the memo?

Barbatos clears his throat and takes a step toward the Demon, who is looking at you like their next meal. "Clearly, you are mistaken; this is Mc. A distinguished guest and friend of the Devildom."

The Artist opens his mouth to surely make another snarky comment, but he's interrupted by the doors parting and Diablo's timely arrival.

He looks just as handsome as ever as he greeted you with a smile, "Sorry I'm late, Canvazu. Thank you for taking the time to meet us today."

The Demon, who is becoming one of your least favorite beings in the three realms by the second, looks the prints up and down. "oh, I remember you. You look the exact same as the last time I saw you. So why do I have to immortalize your face again?"

Your jaw drops, how could he say this to the ruler of Hell?

You look at the Prince, but to your surprise, he only laughs. The wonderful sound fills the room and calms your nerves. "I suppose I wish for the Devildom to see the true me~"

"Actually, I don't care." the Artist says in an annoyed tone. "Go sit over there so we can begin."

Diavolo is unphased by the Demon's rude behavior but shoots a quick look at you and Barbatos, whose smile is murderous, to not intervene. If this Artist is as well respected as he appears to be, he certainly can get away with this attitude toward nobility. 

"Is there anything else you need before you start?" The Butler asks, clearly wanting to get this whole exchange over with. 

"Yeah, Silence." the Demon sneers, his voice low enough for Diavolo to not hear from his chair across the room. He dips his long- brush-shaped tail onto his palette. And painting the backdrop. 

You see Barbato's jaw clench, and you gently reach out and give his hand a little squeeze to calm him down. He relaxes and looks at you warmly. "I apologize for my rudeness, Mc. You have been here for quite some time, and I haven't given you any refreshments. May I fetch something for you?"

"That would be lovely; thank you," you say, happy to give him a distraction. He nods and goes to make you something in the kitchen, leaving you in the room with the Artist and the Prince.

It kind of sounds like the start of a corny joke, and you smile to yourself, thinking up all the different ways you can set up the punchline.

You watch in amazement as Canvazu works, his tail flicking back and forth; his paintings are so lifelike, so realistic it looks like you can step onto the canvas and still be in the same room.

Diavolo sits perfectly still in his seat, but despite his best efforts to hide it,  he looks extremely bored. He meets your gaze and gives you a little wave.

You stick your tongue out at him teasingly in response, and he beams back at you; at the change in his subject's face, Canvazu's head snaps toward you, and he glares into the very depths of your soul. "You, human. You are distracting my subject; stop that at once! Do you realize how privileged you are to be sitting in on one of my sessions?." Embarrassment boils beneath your skin and you open your mouth to apologize, but Diavolo stops you standing abruptly. 

"There is no need for that; Mc is doing exactly what they're supposed to do, making me smile. 

"As the artist, I will capture your image as I see fit." Cavazu objects. "I cannot immortalize your face looking so undignified with a silly grin."

You sit up from your chair, "there is nothing wrong with his smile," you say defensively, your patience finally running out . "will you really not paint him if he doesn't look miserable in the chair?"

"Absolutely not." The Demon says, throwing his pallet on the floor. Paint splatter everywhere. "Watch your tongue, Human. You are nothing but an insignificant pest. You have no right to speak to me that way."

Immediately, Diavolo is at your side, looking furious. "I believe we are at an impasse then, Cavazu. I tolerated your disrespect as a courtesy for your continued service of the Devildom, but you have crossed the line. As of now, you will no longer be contracted by the crown."

Canvazu looks absolutely frazzled, for once having to actually deal with the consequences of his actions. "You cannot be serious, My lord. I have served the Devildom for years and you choose this, your pet? Over me?"

"A thousand times over." Diavolo declares with certainty; he looks down at you and takes your hand, pressing it to his lips. "And this Human may one day rule the Devildom at my side. They mean more to me than anything. I refuse to let you rob the Devildom of its smile any longer." Diavolo says, his authority clear in his voice. 

"Barbatos, if you please." The Prince says, addressing the Butler, who you haven't noticed come back into the room. 

"At once, young master." The Butler says, and with a snap of his fingers, the Artist disappears from the room, leaving the three of you alone in the Parlor. "I must say, kicking that oaf out has been one of the highlights of my existence, Your Majesty. Thank you for that opportunity."

The Butler sent the two of you into a fit of laughter and, despite his prim and proper nature, lets out a genuine smile in response.

"Are you alright, Mc?" The Prince asks softly, the anger on his features disappearing as he looks at you. 

"I'm alright; I'm sorry your artist was such a jerk, though." You reply. "Is there another artist you can use to paint your portrait?"

He shakes his head, "this situation has made me realize that I do not want to have my portrait painted anymore."

"But I thought you wanted a new painting to replace the one in the Hall of Faces," you say in surprise. 

He smiles, "I do, but I was wondering if you would do me the honor of sitting with me in my portrait."

"Is that really okay?" you ask in bewilderment. 

"Of course it is," Barbatos says simply. "You have done more than enough to earn your place up on the wall."

"I-I don't know what to say."

"How about yes?" The Prince asks, his golden gaze overflowing with hopeful affection. 

You smile and nod eagerly, your heart feeling tender with love. "Yes, I will."

"Wonderful," he replies eagerly, looking like an excited golden retriever. "Barbatos, would you do me the honor of painting our portrait?" 

"I would be delighted to," he replies, striding over to where the Artist once stood. "I have not practiced my oil paintings in quite some time, but I believe I can capture your feelings appropriately."

"So. Shall we begin?" The Prince smiles leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

Tagging: @enchantedforest-network, @starbbyy

[rad-roche]

Pulp Covers And How To Paint Them

With the rise of cheap printing in the early twentieth century, mass-marked paperbacks swept the world, each offering lurid thrills for obscenely low prices. Sex, sadism, and incredible violence for as little as ten cents. An easy purchase to slot in between fifty cigarettes a day and enough bourbon slugs to kill a small garden.

Pulp fiction is where some of the greats of American literature cut their teeth, including the big three, Raymond Chandler, Ross MacDonald and Dashiell Hammett. The contents of these stories, both the dizzyingly good and astoundingly terrible, have been absorbed and digested and remixed and regurgitated in nearly every permutation imaginable, fuelling pop culture some one hundred years on. This isn't an essay on that. Nobody likes to open a tutorial and be greeted with a wall of text. The history is for another time.

But it is about how to paint it.

Don't let the pre-amble intimidate you, it's not as hard as it sounds. You will need:

Painting software with some image editing capabilities. You don't need all the bells and whistles of Photoshop, but I wouldn't recommend something like MSPaint, at least not to start with. I'm using Clip Studio Paint.

A really beat-up paper texture. The grungier, the better.

A lightly-textured brush. Here are the specific brushes I use, 99% of which is the well-named rough brush. Try and avoid anything with any impasto elements.

Go to your colour-picking tool and use the 'select from layer' option. Doing all the painting on a single layer is going to make your life easier.

A complete willingness to make mistakes and, instead of erasing, painting over them. It generates much more colour variation and interest! Keep your finger off the E key.

Good reference! That painting is a master copy of Mitchel Hooks' art for Day of the Ram. Find a style you really love and want to learn? Have no clue where to begin? Do direct studies!

Let's not worry about whatever is happening in the background. It's probably fine. Let's get started! Pulp magazine art is a lot more varied than you might first think, so don't agonize over having a style that 'fits' or not. I'm also specifically aiming for something you'd see on the cover after printing, not the initial painting they would use for printing. The stuff I'll show here is a pretty narrow band of it, but here are some general commonalities. This is a painting by Tom Lovell.

Let's dig into this.

The colours are very bright and saturated, but the actual values, the relative lightness and darkness of them, are actually grouped very simply! You can check this by filling a layer full of black, putting it on top and setting its mode to colour. If the value of a painting looks good, you actually get a lot of leeway with colour. But here's what I think is the most important thing to keep in mind.

The darks aren't that dark, and the lights aren't all that light! Covers are paintings reproduced on cheap paper. Anything you wouldn't want to happen in the printing process, you lean into. Value wash-outs, lower contrast, colours getting a weird wash to them, really gritty texturing. So let's get painting! Here's my typical setup.

That bottom folder is the painting itself. The screen layer is the grungy paper texture. To get the effect you want, put it down, invert its colour, then set it to screen. That washes out your painting far, far too much, so to compensate, I put a contrast layer up on top. Fiddle around with the settings, but this is where mine ended up sitting.

Note I'm saying this before even starting the painting: you want to do this as early as possible. This is where the 'select from layer' colour picker comes in handy. You can paint without worrying about the screen or contrast layer. Something not looking right? Enable your value check layer and keep painting. When you turn it off, it'll still be in colour. Here's a timelapse so you can see what that looks like.

And when you check the values...

They're pretty simple! This isn't a be all and end all, but I hope it serves as a decent primer. I want thirty dames on my desk by Monday!

[asacredthebread]

The Art of Surrender

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Danny x F!Reader - 18+

𝙷𝚎’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐.

Warnings/Themes: Sub Danny, Unprotected Sex, Riding, Begging, Soft Danny

wc; 9105

taglist - @musicislove3389 @peaceloveunitygvf @jazzyfigz @sarahbethgvf @fleetingjake

You sat at the kitchen counter, cradling a steaming cup of tea in your hands, the warmth spreading through your fingers and enveloping you in a comforting embrace. The soft glow of the light above cast a gentle radiance around the room, illuminating the well-loved pages of the book that lay open in front of you. Words danced before your eyes like familiar friends, but time had begun to slip away, each sentence drawing you deeper into its comforting narrative. Despite your immersion, you couldn’t shake the thrill of anticipation that thrummed in your chest, building steadily with each tick of the clock.

With each minute that passed, your mind drifted back to Danny, recalling the way he had kissed you goodbye, his voice soft yet filled with an infectious excitement, promising he’d be back before you knew it. Those weeks apart felt elongated, every day stretching as you inhabited the space he’d filled, his laughter, his warmth. The nights had been the hardest, when the absence of his presence loomed large and the silence of the house wrapped around you like a heavy blanket. You remembered the way his energy had always made your home feel alive, each corner bustling with the remnants of laughter and light.

You occasionally glanced up from your book, listening intently to the sounds around the house. The creak of the floorboards, the quiet hum of the refrigerator, and the occasional rustle of the wind against the windows combined into a symphony of solitude. Each sound pulled you deeper into your thoughts, reflecting on how much you missed those spontaneous moments—his quirky dance moves in the kitchen and the way he’d brush his fingers along your arm as he passed by. Little reminders that built a life together, now seemingly distant but still close enough to touch in your mind.

Just as you were lost in a particularly vivid memory of the two of you, you heard it—the unmistakable creak of the front door opening. Your heart quickened, breath catching in your throat, and you looked up with anticipation. There he was, stepping inside, worn yet vibrant, the world outside seemingly melting away as he entered your shared sanctuary.

His long, curly brown hair framed his face, slightly tousled from travel, and the moment his tired brown eyes scanned the room, finding you, a wave of relief washed over him. You couldn’t contain the smile that broke across your face, an instinctual response to the sight of him. Your heart swelled, feeling as if a piece of you, lost in his absence, had finally returned home. His expression mirrored your own, relief flooding his gaze as if he were drinking in the familiar surroundings.

Danny shifted at the threshold, a hand running through his hair in that familiar way, and the warmth in the room surged. You noticed the slight weariness etched on his features, the silent testament to the journey he had just undertaken. But as he took a tentative step forward, that fatigue began to dissipate, overshadowed by the joy that cascaded between you. The darkness of the night outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, cocooned in your own little world.

In that suspended moment, the air sparked with unspoken tension, your eyes locking in a gaze that said more than words ever could. The weight of the distance fell away, dissolving into an energy that once again bound you together. Danny stepped further into the room, absorbing the essence of being back, the quiet safety of home wrapping itself around him like a warm blanket. It felt electric, the shift in the atmosphere, as if the very walls held their breath in anticipation.

You rose from your seat, the book forgotten, and stepped closer. In an instant, the space between you seemed to collapse as you drew him into a warm embrace. His arms circled around you, and you melted into him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest, anchoring you both in this shared moment. The scent of him—faintly familiar yet tied to all the memories you cherished—washed over you, and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, the culmination of emotions threatening to spill over.

“Hey,” he murmured into your hair, his voice deep and soothing.

“Hey, you,” you replied softly, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. The warmth of his smile ignited a spark within you, illuminating the shadows that had lingered during his absence. You could see the joy reflected in his eyes as he took in the sight of you, and you both laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet intimacy of the kitchen.

Everything that had felt fragmented during his time away began to coalesce into clarity. You could feel the pieces fitting back together, a puzzle reassembling itself bit by bit. In this little sanctuary enveloped in the soft glow of the kitchen light, the hum of your life resumed its natural rhythm. You found joy in the mundane things, in the way his fingers brushed against yours as he reached for a bowl, or the way he cracked a joke that made you laugh until you nearly cried.

As the warmth of the evening settled around you like a tender embrace, the comforting glow of the kitchen light cast a soft halo around Danny, illuminating the affection in his deep brown eyes. Each moment felt saturated with a sense of renewal and connection, a rekindling of a bond that had been stretched but never truly broken. You could feel the air between you crackle with a tangible energy, and drawing closer to him felt both natural and exhilarating.

With a mix of mischief and tenderness, you leaned in, your heart pounding in your chest as you pressed your lips to the warm, smooth skin of his neck. The taste of him lingered on your lips, rich and familiar, and you let the heat of the moment envelop you. Each gentle kiss was a thrill, a sublime exploration of longing that had been building for weeks apart. You focused on the way his skin responded to your touch, the way he shivered and leaned into you, a silent admission of how much he missed your closeness.

You could sense the way his body reacted to you—how the tension in his muscles coiled tighter with each gentle caress, and how his breaths grew deeper, more staggered, punctuated by soft gasps that made your heart race. It was intoxicating to witness the effect you were having on him, to feel his need for you rise and pulse in the warm air enveloping you both.

“God,” he murmured, the word slipping from his lips like a breath of prayer, laced with desperation that radiated from him. “You can’t do that to me and expect me not to… to want you.” His voice was deeper than usual, thick with the weight of his unfulfilled craving, and each syllable sent a tremor of excitement coursing through you.

You smiled against his skin, a wicked glint in your eye as you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. “Do you remember what I told you?” you asked, your voice low and teasing, inviting him into a dance of playful tension. You watched as his eyes darkened with anticipation, silently pleading for clarity.

He nodded slowly, the admission hanging between you like a taut string ready to snap. There was vulnerability in his expression, and you loved how he didn’t shy away from it. “I haven’t touched myself at all,” he confessed, the admission falling from his lips as if he had been holding it back for far too long. “It was hard, but I did it for you.”

Your pulse quickened at his words—there was something so intimate about this confession, so raw. The anticipation that threaded through your veins made it feel like the walls of the kitchen were closing in, the world outside fading away until it was just the two of you, wrapped in a cocoon of desire.

“That’s so good of you,” you praised softly, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. The power dynamic intrigued you; knowing he had followed your instructions perfectly sent a rush of pleasure through your body. You edged closer once more, letting your lips brush against his neck, leaving soft, delicate kisses along the expanse of skin. Each gentle press felt like an incantation, awakening a yearning that had lain dormant during your weeks apart.

“Do you feel how much I’ve missed you?” you murmured between kisses, reveling in the way his breath hitched—each gasp igniting the fire in your own core. “You’ve been so patient, waiting for me. But now…” Your voice trailed off as you felt his body leaning toward you, a magnetic pull drawing you both closer. The simple act of kissing him felt like unwrapping a gift, layer by layer, revealing the deep layers of intimacy and connection that spiraled between you.

“Now, I want to see just how long you can hold out,” you teased, your breath warm against his ear. The way he shivered in response sent delicious sparks throughout your body, heightening the sense of anticipation that crackled in the dimly lit room. “Can you do that for me? Can you be good and not touch yourself?”

He swallowed, and his eyes darkened further with burgeoning desire—swimming in need and restraint. “I’ll try,” he stammered, but there was a hint of helplessness in his voice, a soft surrender to the moment. You could see the conflict within him; his body yearned for your touch, but you had laid the foundation for this delicate game, and he was willing to play along, to suffer a little longer for the pleasure of what was to come.

Feeling emboldened, you pressed your lips again to his neck, trailing lower, mapping the soft contours of his collarbone while reveling in each sigh that escaped his mouth. Your kisses were deliberate, slow, teasingly moving against his skin, lingering at the sensitive spots you knew drove him wild. You could feel his pulse quicken beneath your lips, a testament to the fire igniting between you.

“Just think about how good it will feel when we finally come together again,” you breathed, letting the words roll off your tongue like honey. You could see him react physically to the teasing promise—his shoulders tensed, and his breathing turned ragged.

You leaned back again, finally allowing your eyes to lock onto his, searching for that all-too-familiar spark of connection. "I want you to remember this feeling, every touch, every kiss, as a reminder of how much I’ve longed for you. Let this fire grow inside you, let it build… and just hold on." The weight of your words enveloped the air between you, thick with possibility and allure.

Danny’s gaze bore into yours, filled with a mix of need and longing that left you breathless. He held your gaze, a silent agreement pulsing between you—two hearts intertwining in the moonlit whisper of the moment, tethered by desire, but also by the tender promise of what was yet to come. You both stood at the brink of something beautiful, teetering on the edge of anticipation, poised to let the night unfurl its magic all around you.

As the moment thickened with unspoken promises and electric anticipation, you gently took Danny’s hand and led him to the couch. The soft fabric welcomed him as he sank into its embrace, his gaze never wavering from you. It was as though the world around you faded, leaving only the intoxicating intimacy of the two of you in this sacred space.

“Stay right there,” you instructed softly, a playful yet authoritative tone threading through your voice. He nodded obediently, anticipation shimmering in his eyes as you took a step back, allowing him to take in the entire breadth of the scene. There was something exhilarating about having him in this position, encouraged to simply watch. You could see the tension coiling in his muscles, a reflection of his eagerness and the sheer desire that swirled between you.

With deliberate slowness, you allowed a smile to creep onto your lips. “Now, I want you to keep your hands by your sides,” you said, layering your voice with a sweetness that only deepened the gravity of your request. The obedient glint in his eyes confirmed he understood, a silent promise passing between you.

Taking a deep breath, you centered yourself, feeling the confidence welling up from within. Step by step, you began to undress, each movement infused with a sense of purpose and awareness. You started with the hem of your shirt, drawing it slowly up your body, exposing your skin to the air and his hungry gaze. The fabric slid past your waist and fluttered to the floor, leaving you in just your bottoms.

You glanced at Danny’s face, eager to capture every nuanced expression that danced across it. His eyes darkened further as they roamed over your form, filled with a blend of desire, admiration, and a hint of disbelief. His breath hitched, and the way his lips parted slightly told you everything you needed to know; he was completely captivated.

Feeling emboldened, you transitioned into the next phase of your unveiling. You took your time, ensuring that every motion was deliberate, drawing out the tension in the air. You could almost see the way his mind raced as you moved—how he imagined what was still to come and the depth of his yearning intensified with each small reveal.

With a teasing tilt of your head, you let your fingers glide along the waistband of your bottoms, pausing for just a beat, savoring the moment. “Are you watching closely?” you asked, your voice dripping with playful challenge. He nodded vigorously, his eyes locked onto yours with a fervent intensity that made your heart race.

You slowly began to peel away the remaining fabric, the sensation of cool air meeting your skin awakening every nerve ending. You watched his expression morph into one of sheer hunger, the heat pooling in his gaze as you revealed more of yourself to him. It felt exhilarating to see how your actions stirred him—how the anticipation rolled off him like heat from a fire, igniting a shared connection that pulsed through the space between you.

As you stepped out of the last piece of clothing, you allowed yourself the moment to pause, holding his gaze as you stood before him, completely unveiled. The vulnerability mingled with power, and you relished the thrill of it. You could see the struggle within him; the sheer will it took for him to keep his hands obediently at his sides. Every muscle in his body seemed taut, ready to spring forth but restrained by your instructions.

“Look at me, Danny,” you breathed, your voice a gentle command that drew his focus back to your face. “What do you see?”

“Everything,” he replied, his voice low and thick with unfiltered longing. “You’re… beautiful.”

The compliment sent a shiver running through you, and you allowed yourself to bask in the warmth of his admiration. Each moment felt suspended in time, painted vividly with the colors of intimacy and desire. You were in control, but both of you were equally vulnerable, entwined in the dance of unspoken emotions that swirled around you.

Encouraged by his reaction, you moved closer, allowing your hands to trail lightly along your own skin, every caress a shared invitation for him to drink in the sight of you. As you did, the tension in the room escalated palpably, a rich tapestry woven from both your hearts beating as one. You could feel him leaning forward ever so slightly, as if he couldn't resist the pull of your essence, that magnetic force keeping him firmly tethered to the moment.

“Keep your eyes on me,” you urged softly, a hint of urgency woven within your words. Each motion was intentional; you wanted him to feel the weight of your presence, to etch every detail into his memory. You danced your fingers along your collarbone, letting them drift down your sides, showcasing every curve. When you caught his gaze shifting, eager to drink in every bit of you, you felt a surge of satisfaction.

“Good,” you murmured, watching him swallow, every fiber in his being focused on you, carefully observing, desperately wishing for more. His quiet longing acted like a spark, igniting the flames of your own desire—a delicious, heady warmth that spread through your body, leaving you aching for closer contact, yet fully aware of the power of this moment.

“Can you feel how much we’ve both missed this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The question hovered in the air, turning the silence into something tangible, something that hung between you like a sweet tension—ripe and waiting to be broken. The vulnerability shared in that moment was palpable, creating a bond that felt more intimate than skin-deep, interlacing your souls in the quiet solace of your surroundings.

With that, you let your hands fall to your sides, your expression softening as you gazed at him, letting the moment linger in the air, a luxurious pause before whatever came next. You knew you had drawn him to a precipice of yearning, and he waited—breathless and desperate—for the next chapter to unfold. And in that instant, you could feel the world fade away, leaving only the two of you as you held your breath, poised on the brink of an exquisite adventure yet to come.

The charged atmosphere enveloped you both as you slowly moved closer to him, your heart racing in rhythm with the pulsating energy that hung thick in the air. A silent understanding passed between you, and you could see the raw desire igniting in Danny's eyes as you approached the edge of the couch.

With a deliberate, enticing smile, you gently lowered yourself onto his lap, feeling the warmth radiate from his body beneath you. The moment you settled on him, a wave of heat washed over you, a delicious melding of body and spirit that made everything else fade away. You planted your knees on either side of him, positioning yourself just right, feeling how perfectly your forms connected.

And then, you began to move. Slowly at first, rolling your hips against his with a rhythm that felt as natural and instinctive as breathing. The sensation sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, igniting a fire deep within. You relished the way his eyes widened, the way his breath caught as he absorbed the sight and feel of you moving above him. Each gentle grind was a sultry invitation, weaving a spell that drew you both deeper into the moment.

With every undulation, you pressed into him, teasingly building tension as you let your kisses trail along his jawline. You started at the base of his neck, planting soft, lingering kisses that trailed upwards, celebrating the contours of his chin and the warmth of his skin. As you worked your way up toward his earlobe, you could feel his breath hitch, a stuttered sound that only fueled your desire to continue this wicked dance.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice heavy with awe and longing, a gentle tug at the edges of your heart. Your response was a gentle kiss along his neck, savoring the taste of him, feeding off the way his body responded so eagerly to your touch.

You maintained your rhythm, a slow grind that made the world outside your intimate bubble recede even further. You wanted to be intently aware of his reactions, of the way his body tensed beneath you, muscles shifting as he fought to control himself. You wanted him to feel every shift of your movements, every kiss upon his skin, to drown in the depths of this connection you were forging together.

But then, as you leaned in for a particularly teasing sweep of your lips against his neck, you felt Danny’s hands start to drift. His fingers grazed your waist, a subconscious movement fueled by the longing that surged through him. It was an instinctive reaction, a reflection of the need to pull you closer, to frame this exquisite closeness with the touch of his hands.

In a swift yet gentle motion, you caught his wrist before he could rest his hands on your body, holding it steady at his side. The shift in energy was palpable, accentuating the sweetness of your game. “Ah, ah,” you scolded softly, a playful tone lacing your words. “I told you to keep your hands by your sides.”

His gaze flickered with a mixture of disappointment and disbelief, but he complied without hesitation, clenching his jaw as if trying to hold back the urge to wrap his arms around you. The tension between you escalated, becoming electric, heightened by the small act of restraint. His open vulnerability made your heart race even faster, and you couldn’t help but lean closer, pressing your body into his as an added reminder of your presence.

“Good boy,” you encouraged him, your voice barely above a whisper, laced with a teasing edge that made his eyes gleam with renewed desire. “I want you to watch—this is just for you.” The words slipped from your lips, sweet and sultry, igniting a spark of possessiveness in the atmosphere between you.

As you resumed your movement, you increased the pressure of your grinding, feeling the heat radiate between the two of you. You maintained eye contact, savoring the flush that crept along his cheeks, the way his brows furrowed in concentration. Each movement drew moans from him, his breath racing faster as he struggled to contain the storm of sensations swirling within.

The atmosphere crackled with the anticipation of exploration, and you leaned in closer, letting your lips explore the curve of his jaw, trailing soft kisses and playful bites along the way. His scent enveloped you—an intoxicating blend of warmth and earthiness that sent shivers racing down your spine. You wanted more; you craved the deep, intimate connection that lay just below the surface of your playful game.

With each thrust of your hips, you inched closer to pleasure, the friction between you both stirring a wild fire in your core. His breathing quickened, matching the rhythm of your movements, the way he longed to touch you evident in the tension of his body. You delighted in his struggle, every sound he released, and every flare of heat in his gaze as you held him captive in this moment.

“Feel that?” you whispered, your breath warm against his ear as you leaned closer, sending a shiver through him. “Feel how much I want you? How much you want me?” Your words turned into a gentle challenge, digging deeper into the charged atmosphere enveloping you both.

His eyelashes fluttered, and he pressed his lips together, fighting the impulse to let his hands roam. The mere idea that he had to supress that desire was a delicious turn-on for you both. You could feel the tension build—a silent plea—and it drove you to grind your hips against him with even more urgency, each roll coaxing a low groan from his lips.

“Just stay with me, Danny,” you urged, your voice sultry and soft. “Keep your hands where they belong, and let me show you just how good this can feel.” The words were a promise, dripping with seduction, and as you continued to tease him, your kisses along his neck and jawline interspersed with whispers of heated encouragement, you knew this moment was only the beginning of a much deeper exploration.

Time seemed to stretch around you as you savored each sensation, each breath, each sound. The world outside melted into oblivion; it was just the two of you, caught in this luscious cocoon of desire, where every movement ignited the flames of longing and yearning. You leaned into this beautiful, intimate moment, the anticipation of what was to come stirring within both of you like a rising tide, holding the beauty and vulnerability of this connection close to your hearts. As you continued to grind against him, the intoxicating sensations flooded through Danny's body, pulling him further into a haze of desire and submission. The tension in the air was palpable, thickening with every teasing movement and whispered promise. You reveled in the way he surrendered to the moment, his vulnerability enhancing the connection between you.

With each roll of your hips, you felt him melt beneath you, his breath hitching as you moved with intoxicating rhythm. His head fell back against the couch, giving you access to the expanse of his neck, a vulnerable canvas waiting for the imprint of your desire. You leaned in, your lips brushing against his skin softly at first, testing the waters, gauging his reactions.

As your lips traveled along his neck, you began to let your kisses deepen, turning gentle pecks into playful bites. You watched hungrily as the blush of heat spread across his cheeks, a vivid contrast to his usual calm demeanor. Each mark you left felt like a claim, a possessive reminder of the beauty of this intimate moment. You took your time, savoring the sound of his breath hitching as you nibbled on the sensitive skin, tasting the saltiness of his excitement.

“Please… don’t stop,” he whimpered, the plea spilling from his lips in a throaty whisper, both desperate and filled with longing. Each sound he made resonated deep within you, weaving a spell that captivated your senses as surely as your actions captivated him. You could see the battle within him—the craving for closeness, the need to touch and hold you, shadowed by the reminder of your control over the situation.

“Patience, Danny,” you murmured against his skin, sending vibrations of warmth fluttering through him. “You’ve got to remember your place.” The slight scolding in your tone was playful yet firm, drawing out more whines of frustration from him. The contrast between the pleasure you gave him and the denial of touch only deepened his submission, leaving him utterly at your mercy.

You left your mark, suckling and kissing along the length of his neck, relishing in the soft gasps that escaped his lips. Each time you pulled your lips away, you revealed a new hickey, a rosy reminder of how completely he surrendered to you. You adored the sight of him—his eyes fluttering closed, mouth slightly parted, lost in the sensory overload you had created.

His moans grew louder, more desperate, each sound weaving a rich tapestry of need that enveloped you both. “I can’t… I can’t help it,” he gasped, fighting against the constraints you had placed upon him. The way his body curled toward you, straining against the invisible boundaries, was intoxicating. You were his world in that moment, and the heat radiating off him told you everything you needed to know about the depth of his submission.

“You’re doing so well,” you encouraged, your voice low and sultry. You met his gaze, and the intensity of his desire mirrored yours. “But remember, no touching. Just let me take care of you.” With confidence, you pressed another soft bite to the place just below his ear, and a shudder raced through his body, a physical testament to the control you had over his pleasure.

Danny’s submission was a sweet nectar, intoxicating in its purity. The way he let go of all hesitations, the way he surrendered completely to your ministrations, was a power unlike any you had known. You edged deeper into the exploration of his limits, more comfortable with the knowledge that he was becoming increasingly pliable beneath you.

The hickeys you left were like painted strokes on his canvas, a beautiful display of your shared intimacy. The skin beneath your lips bloomed warmly under your touch, and the more you marked him, the more visible evidence of your connection remained. He was no longer just Danny; he was yours, a willingly vulnerable creation molded by your hands and desires.

“Please,” he whimpered again, the sound threading through the air like a fragile thread connecting your worlds. “I want to touch you so badly.” His voice was strained, raw with yearning, and it sent shivers cascading through you. You could feel the pull of his desire, his desperate wish to claim some part of you as you were claiming him.

You responded tenderly, peppering another kiss along his neck, punctuating your movements with a teasing flick of your tongue. “I know, sweetheart,” you whispered, your words caressing his skin and echoing in his ears. “But you have to learn patience. It’ll only make it better when I finally let you.” There was a certain deliciousness in prolonging the anticipation, in drawing this moment out to its fullest extent.

With each kiss, you could see him growing more and more vulnerable, slipping deeper into the warm embrace of submission. The weight of the world faded, and the only thing that remained was the shared intimacy that flowed between you. He surrendered completely, letting go of all resistance, allowing himself to be lost in the pleasure you wove around him.

As you continued to leave your mark upon him, you found your own pleasure rising as well, an echo of the desperation he felt. The connection was potent and primal, and with every kiss, every bite, you layered on the intimacy, carving out a space where nothing else mattered. The deliciousness of the moment enveloped both of you, creating a sweet sanctuary hinged on trust, longing, and an unspoken promise of more to come.

“Just breathe for me,” you murmured softly, tracing your fingertips along the lines of his jaw, watching as he closed his eyes to escape into the sensations you created. You watched him, an exquisite masterpiece of longing bruised and softened by your touch, and in that moment, you knew you would savor every second as you danced together along the bounds of desire and submission.

In that gentle rhythm, you continued to kiss, to mark, to explore, fully aware of the power you held in your hands as he remained open and willing—an offering of his own free will. The delicious tension between pleasure and restraint sent ripples of excitement coursing through your veins, and you lost yourself in the dance, both of you teetering on the edge of ecstasy, bound by the intoxicating allure of what awaited in the depths of your connection.

The atmosphere pulsed with an electric charge, a heady mix of desire and anticipation that enveloped both of you, closing out the world outside. Danny’s breaths were quick and uneven, every ragged sigh echoing the depth of longing that had built between you over the last few moments. You could see the desperation in his eyes, reflecting the restraint you held over him—a tantalizing cocktail of authority and intimacy that made your pulse race.

Your movements grew more deliberate, teasingly slow as you felt the heat radiate from his body beneath you. “You want more, don’t you?” you asked softly, delighting in the way his gaze flickered with yearning. As you shifted your weight, you couldn’t help but lean closer, offering him the promise of fulfillment, the tantalizing prospect of crossing that final boundary.

With a sultry smile, you let your fingers trail down his abdomen, feeling the taut muscles beneath your touch. You paused just above the waistband of his jeans, savoring the way his body responded to every deliberate caress. “Let’s see just how much you’ve been waiting for this.”

As you expertly unzipped his jeans, the soft click of the zipper felt like a thousand silent promises whispered inside a crowded room. Parting the fabric slowly, you could already see the evidence of his desire—a pulse of excitement that quickened your own heartbeat. You watched as his face filled with anticipation, and you couldn’t resist the urge to tease him just a little longer.

With deliberate slowness, you pushed his jeans down just enough to expose him fully, a breathless moment where you both lingered, hearts racing. Taking the opportunity to gaze at the sight before you, your breath hitched at the intensity of it all. He was completely bare and vulnerable, and the sight only intensified your need for him.

“Please,” he croaked out, desperation lacing his voice as he shifted beneath you. “Let me touch you. I need to feel you.” There was a pleading note in his tone, one that ignited a spark of desire deep within your core. You loved the way he was unraveling beneath your touch, the way the sweet need for you flowed from his words like molten honey.

“Soon,” you whispered, your voice laced with a teasing promise. You perched higher on his lap, your body trembling with anticipation as you aligned yourself above him. “First, I want to feel you inside me.” You watched the instant spark of lust ignite in his eyes, the way his body instinctively tensed, ready and waiting for you to take that sweet plunge.

With a gentle push, you lowered yourself onto him, the sensation exquisite as you enveloped him in your warmth. The world melted away, leaving only the two of you and the intoxicating feeling of connection that surged deeply between your bodies. A low, primal groan escaped from him, an involuntary sound that echoed the pleasure blooming between you.

You paused for a moment, savoring the intoxicating feeling of him filling you, allowing yourself to get lost in the sensation—every inch of him igniting a wildfire of desire that spread through your body like an electric current. Your breath mingled with his, creating a sweet symphony of longing as you adjusted, letting the moment wash over you completely.

Then, without hesitation, you began to move, riding him slowly, deliberately. Each movement sent ripples of pleasure coursing through both of you, drawing out soft gasps and whimpers as you lost yourselves in the rhythm you created together. The sensation of him sliding within you was overwhelming, a heady mix of fullness and indescribable ecstasy that filled the space between you.

“Oh my God,” Danny breathed out, voice strained yet awash with a serene pleasure, “This feels so amazing.” You could see him struggling against the understanding of your earlier boundary, his hands twitching at his sides, longing to touch you—to trail his fingers along your skin, to feel the warmth radiate from your body.

“Please, I need to touch you,” he begged again, urgency coloring his every word, and the straining hope in his tone only made you want to tempt him further. You knew that the denial of that instinct, that sweet yearning, only fueled both of you. It was a dance of patience and unrestrained pleasure, and you intended to linger in this moment, letting him writhe in the tension of it all.

“Just a little longer,” you encouraged softly, entranced by his need for you. Each downward motion intensified the connection you shared, a magnetic pull that blurred the lines of your separate desires. “I want you to feel every second of this. The sweetness of anticipation is part of the pleasure.”

Your movements remained slow and tantalizing, drawing him deeper into the intoxicating ache of submission that you cultivated. The way his eyes brimmed with need only ignited your own hunger, and you wanted to keep that fire ablaze, to draw it out as long as possible.

As you rolled your hips, taking him deeper, the sounds that escaped from him grew more urgent—soft pleas and little whimpers flooding the air like music. The tension of restraint painted his features, so expressive and vulnerable, and you longed to touch him as much as he longed to touch you.

“Danny,” you breathed, leaning in closer, letting your body press against his, the intimacy of your closeness sending tremors through both of you. “Just feel this with me. Let it wash over you.” You cherished the way he strained to hold onto the moment, the way his body reacted to every flick of your hips, sending him spiraling deeper into pleasure.

“God, you’re driving me crazy,” he managed, and the confession ignited a thrill within you. The way he was losing himself in each motion was exhilarating, a reminder of the power your connection held. You loved that he felt this way—so exposed, so vulnerable, and yet so utterly captured by you.

“Let go, Danny.” The words were barely above a whisper, a mere suggestion hanging between you as you continued to ride him, and it seemed to strike a deep chord within him. He shifted beneath you, his breath hitching once again as your words encircled him like a coil, tugging him closer to that edge.

“Just let me touch you,” he pleaded one more time, the urgency climbing higher in his tone, and you could feel your own desire cresting painfully inside you. His restraint was a beautiful paradox—a magnetic force drawing you closer together as much as the pleasure itself.

“Soon, I promise,” you assured, giving his cheek a soft caress as you maintained your slow, deliberate movements. Each rise and fall felt exhilarating, connecting everything in that moment. In the dance of submission and desire, you found the harmony of exploration, deeply entwined in each other’s worlds.

The rhythm escalated, leaning toward a crescendo, yet you held back, savoring the taste of every glide, every kiss, and every tremor shared between your bodies. You could sense the abyss of ecstasy swirling just beyond your reach and hungered to dive in together, twined in a shared bliss that echoed with a deeper sense of connection than you had ever known.

“Just a little longer,” you whispered, your voice melting into the air, becoming part of the moment, the promise of what was to come flickering like a candle’s flame in the passion that consumed you both. Every second stretched, thickening the air with longing, and the delicious patience was intoxicating in its own right. You wanted this moment to last forever, to revel in the sweet lull of desire before the inevitable storm of release unfolded before you. The air between you crackled with anticipation, a silent promise hanging in the charged atmosphere that enveloped you both. Each slow roll of your hips was a tantalizing tease, every moment stretching into an eternity filled with pleasure and restraint. Danny's desperate pleas echoed in your mind, igniting a fire of longing and desire within you that was almost overwhelming.

With every flicker of his gaze, you felt the weight of his yearning, the need for touch that lay just beneath the surface, begging to be released. You could see the conflict dancing in his eyes—a battle between submission and the overwhelming desire to pull you closer, to connect in a way that transcended words. You knew it was time, time to let the boundaries dissolve completely, to allow him the freedom to touch you, to explore this connection fully.

“Okay,” you breathed, your voice tender and laced with excitement. “You can touch me now.” The words hung in the air between you, and in the instant they left your lips, the shift was palpable. You watched as his expression transformed, urgency sparking within him as he processed your permission.

In an instant, his hands shot up, finding their place on your hips, fingers curling possessively around you, pulling you closer in a desperate motion. The moment his warm hands made contact, a delightful shiver raced down your spine, igniting a rush of heat that pooled deep within you. There was something exquisitely thrilling about the way he enveloped you, how your bodies pressed together, merging into one rhythm, one heartbeat.

“God, yes,” he breathed, his voice thick with longing as he guided your movements. The urgency in his grip intensified, and you indulged in the sensation of his hands traveling across your skin, exploring the curves of your body, finding solace in your shared connection. You had relinquished control, and now he grasped the opportunity with fervor, his fingers exploring your waist, your hips, memorizing the outline of you beneath his touch.

Every pull and push of your bodies together sent waves of ecstasy ricocheting through you both, intertwining desire and intimacy like a beautifully woven tapestry. As he pulled you deeper against him, you felt every inch of him pressing into you, the heat radiating from where your bodies met sparking a scorching fire. You could sense his need pouring out of him, raw and unfiltered, and it fueled your own desires, taking you higher with each tender touch.

“Is this okay?” he asked breathlessly, his gaze burning into yours, filled with a mix of hunger and reverence. His fingers dug gently into your skin, as if he were afraid to break the fragile spell of the moment. You nodded, unable to form words as you felt the pull of his intentions, the need to savor every second of this revelation.

“Just like that,” you urged softly, encouraging him to explore, to let his instincts guide him as your bodies flowed together. His hands became your anchor, grounding you in the shared sensation of pleasure as they traversed the landscape of your hips, moving around to the small of your back, fingers tracing the outline of your figure, pulling you closer still.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp that sent shivers cascading through you. The desperation in his tone ignited something primal within you, an undeniable connection that deepened with every insistence of his hands, every intoxicating caress. You were both lost in the rhythm of exploration, the slow ascent to the heights of ecstasy.

Encouraged by your signals, he began to guide your movements with more confidence, rolling his hips up into you, matching the cadence of your rhythm. The tension mounted between you as he drew you in closer, the world around you fading into a blur of warmth and sensation. Each thrust was electric, sending jolts of pleasure spiraling through your core, forcing you to gasp and moan, releasing sounds of pure bliss into the air.

His fingers continued to explore, trailing across your skin with a gentle urgency, every brush feeling like a star igniting against the night sky. He pulled you tighter against him, and you could feel his heartbeat quickening, the way his body responded to yours, instinctively yearning to lose itself in the ecstasy you created together. Each movement brought a deep sense of intimacy, a shared understanding that transcended any previous boundaries.

“Please,” he breathed again, that burning need coloring his voice, “I want to feel you more.” The plea slipped from his lips like a mantra, igniting something wild within you. You could sense the desire bubbling just beneath the surface, an eager need that threatened to overflow.

“Then feel me,” you whispered, a hint of encouragement giving rise to that blaze of urgency in his eyes. “I want you to take this.” With those words, you allowed him to guide not just your movements, but your connection, trusting him to navigate the depths of this intimate moment while still relishing the taste of vulnerability.

His hands found their way to your thighs, pushing them apart slightly, encouraging you to settle into a rhythm that was intoxicatingly slow yet electric. The heat pooling where you connected intensified with every deliberate motion, and you could feel the pull of pleasure rising within you like a tide. The sounds escaping your lips were primal, each gasp and moan echoing the sweet urgency that hung thick in the air.

“I—” he began again, every word tumbling out in a rush, barely masking the heat of his desire. “I want to dive deeper with you.” There was a fierce need reflected in his eyes, a sincerity that made your heart race faster, making you ache to take the plunge alongside him.

The way he pulled you closer, the way his hands explored, made you want to lose yourself completely in the moment. It was exhilarating to feel him falling deeper into this connection, his touch becoming more sure, more desperate, fanning flames that had been kindled since your first kiss.

With every thrust of your bodies, you felt an exquisite harmony forming, every second stretching out into an eternity of shared bliss. The boundaries of your desires began to blur, intertwining as the urgency of your connection demanded to be fed, nourished by the taste of one another.

As his fingers journeyed back up to your waist, you could feel his strength, the way he cherished you—it pushed you even higher into the quest for connection. The sensation of his fingers digging lightly into your hips only intensified the urgency within you, merging the lines between pleasure and urgency into one intoxicating experience.

“Don’t stop,” you breathed, urging him on as a ripple of anticipation coursed through your body. The way he responded to your encouragement fueled the flames burning between you both, a primal dance of exploration that threatened to consume you whole. The sweet agony of your joined movements melded into a symphony of desire, every touch igniting more heat, entwining your souls in the elegance of each heartbeat.

Danny’s grip tightened around your waist, guiding your motions as he pushed you closer to him, losing himself in the shared rhythm that surged through both of you. This was a moment of pure adoration, a tapestry woven with threads of trust, intimacy, and longing, and you never wanted it to end.

In that dance of desperation and desire, you felt yourself spiraling closer to the precipice. With every heartbeat, every gasp, it became clearer just how far you had both come in willingly surrendering to this exquisite connection—as if time itself had slowed, devoting an eternity to simply exploring one another’s bodies, heart, and soul. And you knew you would ride this wave of ecstasy together, savoring every moment as you both continued to dive deeper into the bliss waiting just beyond the horizon.

The rhythm of your bodies crescendoed, weaving a tapestry of raw intimacy and shared pleasure that enveloped you both completely. Each push and pull tugged at the very fabric of your connection, driving you both closer to the edge, where euphoria awaited. As the heat mounted, the intensity of the moment took hold, intensifying every sound, every sigh, and every gasp that escaped your lips and echoed within the intimate space you created.

With every movement, you felt the world around you fading away, leaving only the two of you lost in this profound connection. The buildup within you tightened, coiling like a spring ready to unfurl, and you surrendered to the waves of ecstasy that washed over you, carrying you to heights you had yearned for. The sensations overwhelmed your senses, igniting a fire in every nerve ending.

Danny’s hands, ever steady on your hips, guided you as he thrust deeper, the delicious friction sending jolts of pleasure surging through you. You could see the flicker of determination and desire in his eyes, the embodiment of every plea, every whisper that had brought you to this moment. Each gasp that tumbled from his lips only spurred you on, their urgency urging both of you to give in to the sweet surrender that beckoned.

“Oh, yes,” you breathed, the words spilling out in a rush as the tension built higher within you. “Just like that, Danny. You’re doing so well.” The praise spilled from your lips without thought, and the warmth in his gaze told you just how much those words meant to him. They were a balm to his desire, a reward for his submission—a validation that fired up the longing in you, too.

“Please don’t stop,” he implored, his voice barely more than a whisper, thick with desire and the sweetness of vulnerability. Your heart swelled at his plea; the way his composure slipped and gave way to raw, yearning need deepened your desire. You moved together in a beautifully synchronized dance of bodies, surrendering to the rhythm of passion as if it were an art form being painted by the gentle strokes of your movements.

The crescendo approached, the delicious tension building, and you felt yourself spiraling into that exquisite abyss of release. “I’m so close, Danny,” you gasped, feeling the overwhelming waves of pleasure crashing against you as you neared the peak of that euphoric mountain. “Feel me. Feel how much I want this.”

“Me too,” he breathed, eyes wide with an intensity that made your heart race. “I want you more than anything.”

And with the final thrust, everything shattered into a brilliant cascade of sensation. You succumbed to the blissful tide, ripping through you like lightning as waves of pleasure washed over, pulling you both under in the most euphoric embrace. The world exploded into a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations, and it felt as though time itself stood still while you cascaded together into the depths of shared ecstasy.

For those moments suspended in time, you were lost to everything but each other, intertwined in a glorious dance of passion that felt both timeless and achingly ephemeral. Each pulse of pleasure resonated deeply within you, a symphony of sensations that harmonized with the depth of your connection, binding you closer together even as you both surrendered to the bliss.

As the waves receded, you found yourself drifting back down, the euphoric high giving way to a blissful haze. You remained entwined, feeling the heaviness of your bodies melded together, both utterly spent yet exhilarated by the experience you had just shared. The beautiful afterglow settled around you like a soft blanket, cocooning you both in warmth and satiation.

With a tender smile, you brushed a few stray strands of hair from Danny's forehead, your heart swelling with love and satisfaction. Finally, you found your voice, soft yet filled with admiration. “Danny, you were incredible,” you praised, your tone filled with the sincerity that pulsed in your heart. “You were so well behaved for me.”

His eyes flickered with a mix of pride and exhaustion, a contented smile playing at the corners of his lips as he reveled in your words. The adoration in your gaze made him even more pliant, the satisfaction coursing through him amplifying the desire to please you in every way possible.

“I missed you so much,” you continued, each word a sweet caress that lingered in the air between you. “Every moment we were apart felt like an eternity, and I was counting down the seconds until I could have you like this again.”

His expression softened, vulnerability painting his features. “I missed you, too. You drive me crazy in the best ways.” He chuckled lightly, the sound warm and reverberating in the quiet space around you. But deep down, you could sense his submissive side shining through even brighter now—the part of him that wanted nothing more than to cater to your needs, to bask in the warmth of your approval.

“Do you know how much I love you?” you whispered, letting the words hang in the air for a moment, letting them settle deeply in his heart. The impact was immediate, and you watched as his skin flushed with a beautiful warmth, a shy smile breaking across his face as he soaked in the affection you showered upon him.

“I love you,” he replied softly, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. “More than I could ever say.” The words carried a weight that resonated deep within you—symbols of your bond, tangible and heartfelt, solidifying the connection that had drawn you together time and again.

You tightened your hold around him, savoring the moment, basking in the glow of your shared intimacy. “You deserve to know how well you did for me today. I’m so proud of you.” Your voice was a gentle murmur, sweet as honey, but your words held a gravity that pressed against the very edges of his heart. They caressed him like a balm, soothing the remnants of vulnerability laid bare in your presence.

He leaned into you, nuzzling against your shoulder, a smile on his face that revealed both satisfaction and contentment. The way his body relaxed against you said so much, as if he were finally letting go of all the reservations that had plagued him before. “I just want to make you happy,” he sighed, the weight of his words settling into the space between your bodies like a promise.

“You are making me happy,” you reassured him, your voice steady and full of warmth. You knew deep down that this was the essence of your connection—the ability to bare your souls to one another, to explore the depths of emotional and physical submission, to let love flow unfettered between your hearts.

As he nestled closer, you could feel him growing heavier against you, exhaustion settling in his bones. The satisfaction radiating from his body was palpable, a blend of vulnerability and sweetness that tugged at your heartstrings. It was a heady feeling, knowing that he had submitted to you so fully, that he had surrendered himself to the experience you crafted together.

In that quiet, tender moment, as he drifted into a gentle repose, you kept your fingers tracing little patterns against his skin, whispering soft words of devotion, letting him know how cherished he truly was. “You’re safe with me, Danny. Always remember that.” Each syllable was drenched in affection, echoing the depths of your feelings that only deepened with every shared heartbeat.

His eyelids fluttered slightly, a blissful smile lingering at the corners of his lips as he melded deeper into your embrace, exhaustion giving way to tranquility. You could see it—the way he relished the satisfaction of the moment, the embodiment of submission to your heart that made everything feel complete.

And as you held him like that, with the world falling quiet around you, you knew that this bond—this connection you shared—was something deeply special, something that transcended the physical plane. It was a beautiful intertwining of souls, a serene dance of love that promised the sweetness of forever. You reveled in the knowledge that each moment together would only serve to strengthen the ties that bound you as individuals who belonged together.

In that deep, affectionate silence, you both drifted further into relaxation, secure in the warmth of one another’s bodies, minds, and hearts—a perfect lullaby of love, connection, and harmony.

[noiseproblems]

Sound absorbing flooring- Industry and commercial

There are so many choices out there speaking of commercial and sound absorbing flooring, determining on what material is best for your business can feel overwhelming, While redesigning a space, it can be hard to visualize the space with a fresh look. Not only are you looking for something that will be aesthetically impressive for years to come, but you require something that can handle the depreciation of the business you are in.

Wooden flooring with an acoustic underlayment is a lovely instance of sound absorbing flooring, but its possibly an improper choice for something such as a warehouse or auto shop. Make sure to maintain a balance between functionality and beauty.

Industrial flooring choices

While browsing industrial flooring choices, there are various things to consider. The first and most important one is always the design when it comes to outdoor noise cancelling.

You will also have to consider for what your flooring will endure. Softer materials won’t endure the abuse like harder materials. On the contrary, softer and more porous materials will assist to absorb both impact sounds and the environment sounds in the room.

Lessening the noise pollution

Finding ways to lessen noise pollution is an excellent way to keep the staffs happy and productive, so sound absorbing commercial flooring and acoustic wall art panels is a robust investment.

What type of flooring and ceiling absorbs sound?

There are various flooring materials and ceiling noise reduction products that can absorb sound. So it all comes done to the aesthetics you are looking for and the way the space is used. As a thumb rule, hard surfaces with low porous feature don’t absorb much sound. You can buy professional sound absorbing materials in a wide range of finishes, so allow your industrial flooring ideas run wild.

[anessthetic]

TW: BODY HORROR DESCRIPTION

i need to put thought somewhere so i’ll do it here.

well actually i was thinking about Pandemonium’s design so much and came up with snake+frilled-neck lizard shape for their entire body.

my first headcanons about him that i can tell now are that the substance that has taken up residence inside his body (whose “eyes” are visible from his mouth) acts as parasite and causes him to constantly maintain his body in both a state of decay and in state of regeneration. the only problem is that the parasite needs constantly to eat and in considerable quantities, since any pause, even few days, is fraught with the death of the whole organism. That’s why Pandemonium is so aggressive in hunting any living beings (even anglers). he also has an ability to take on the features of the creatures he absorbs , for this reason he’s resembles both a fish and a human at the same time.

the limbs are terribly mutilated, because the creature hardly feels pain and doesn’t pay attention to fractures, constant rotting and things stuck in the body, which are, scratching the walls and the floors emit a loud grinding sounds (overall this monster reminds me of “spirit of garbage” or how it called in “spirited away”). he has a lot of strength, but very little endurance and this is the only thing that saves the expendable in the struggle for life.

about HOW in my headcanons he got into Hadal Blacksite i’ll tell after i finish next art with him

i’ll show here some of my very first sketches with him😤btw he can’t stand up like a human being bc his back legs are so short and one of them is broken

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Leona, Floyd: Feud within the Family

They caught him mid-yawn in the initial art 😭 I SAID THIS TO SOME FRIENDS (not even in a thirsty way, just a casual comment) AND THEY INSTANTLY JUMPED ON ME OTL (if any of them are reading this, yes, I am calling your asses OUT for bullying/j)

I thought the Groovy was of Mufasa, Sarabi, and baby Simba but apparently it’s adult Simba, Nala, and their daughter, Kiara?? 😭 Most animated lions look the same to me, so I never would have caught that… Anyway, L*ona looks absolutely unhinged and super smug there… Bro looks like he’s talking down to someone groveling at his feet for mercy—

A Tale as Old as Time.

"Heeeeeey~"

Leona turned away from the call. Cool, nonchalant—theoretically, anyway.

"Heeey."

He pretended to be absorbed in a stone bust of the King of Beasts. The meddling source of the sound (unfortunately) followed him, much as he tried to shunt it out of his ears.

Leona sighed deeply.

Aaaah, what a pain in the ass. I’m really not in the mood for seafood.

"HEY."

A growl threaded through Floyd’s voice as he stomped over, thrusting his face into Leona’s. The lion beastman groaned. He recognized that fire in Floyd’s eyes all too well.

Determination.

“Quit runnin’ away and fight me already,” Floyd gruffly demanded.

He had been tailing Leona all day, pelting him with the same challenge over and over—alas, to no avail. Now he had the third year boxed in a dark, isolated corner. Floyd gleefully gnashed his teeth, raring to go for a scrap.

He won’t take a regular old ‘no’ for an answer. If it’s come to this then…

He’d lead his pursuer off the beaten path.

“Hmph, how rude,” Leona grunted, at last granting the eel his attention. “Can’t a man appreciate the arts without being accosted? I’d rather not be bothered while I’m in the middle of browsing.”

“You? An art aficionado?” Floyd scoffed in disbelief. “Fat chance, Sea Lion-senpai. You’ve never been into that stuff. It’s not nice to lie to your juniors like that.”

“Then you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” Leona drawled, his voice as smooth as liquid velvet. He took to telling untruths so easily, it was an innate skill. “I’m a prince with refined taste. Can’t you tell I’m over the moon and stars to be at this exhibition?”

Floyd deadpanned. “You look like you’re about to fall asleep standing up just like Jellyfish-chan.”

“Nonsense. I’m absolutely thrilled. In fact, i can hardly contain my excitement. It’s taking every ounce of my energy to not talk my classmates’ ears off about the illustrious history of Sunset Savanna.”

“Yeah? Prove it, then.”

Tch. Should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. Leona grimaced internally.

He was careful to maintain his relaxed poise as he gestured to the painting that was mounted along the wall. “Take a look at that.”

“Huh, what is it?”

Underneath a cornflower sky and thin, cottony clouds, was a red-maned lion and his lioness. Between them, a mandrill cradled a wide-eyed cub. The composition made it clear: it was a painting of a family.

“One of the great kings of the past,” Leona simpered, irony oozing from his every word, “and one of the great kings of the future, if that furball is anything to go by. The parents must cherish their child a great deal. Spoiled and pampered like that… surely the cub will make for a splendid ruler.”

“Ehehehe~ You sound so salty there, Sea Lion-senpai.” Floyd leaned closer, taunting him. “Reciting sappy stories like that don’t suit you.”

“So I’ve been told.” Leona folded his arms and snorted. When he beheld the painting, disgust and envy curled in the pit of his stomach. “… Reminds me of my brother. His life’s always been one big fairy tale—and now he’s got a wife and a kid of his own.”

“Heh. So Sea Lion-senpai definitely feels like the odd one out.”

Leona glared at his junior. “… You don’t have a lick of tact, do you?”

“Ahahah!” Floyd cackled, all too carefree. “What’re you so mad about? ‘S not a bad thing.”

Leona watched him with a wary eye. Floyd paced lazily, as though he were a lion himself. Stewing in the shade, waiting for his next meal to skitter into his waiting paw.

“Who wants to fit in with family? That’s boring. It’s better to just do what you want and be yourself. Don’t sweat the small stuff.

“I hate it when people say Jade and I are the same or they mix us up. Jade’s Jade and I’m me. Two different people.”

“I’m sure your dear brother would shed a tear hearing you talk like that.”

Floyd just shrugged. “I don’t get it. You wanna be like that? It’d be weird.”

“But it’s not about fitting in,” he wanted to snap. “It’s about wanting to shine, to stand out, to be seen. For that moment out of the shadows and basking in the sun.”

They look at me, but they don’t see me.

They never will.

People played in the daytime while sleeping through the lovely night. In the savanna governed by the sun, shadows were scorned and casted aside.

Leona’s throat dried. The moisture gone, as if hungrily devoured by his King’s Roar.

He forced his voice to come again, snarky and sarcastic.

“Hmph, I never said that. You slimy bunch grew up at the bottom of the sea, where the light cannot touch. I’d think you understand what it’s like clawing and kicking and fighting every day to survive.”

And just barely making it out in one piece.

His hand drifted toward the scar over his left eye.

“… Anyway, I wasn’t askin’ for your advice. You should stick to annoying that octopunk.” Leona smirked. Again, concealing. “Keep it in the ‘family’, you know.”

Floyd stared at him intently. Then he let out a burst of laughter. “You’re a riot, Sea Lion-senpai! I don’t even feel light fighting you anymore. It’s just as fun to shoot the shit with ya.”

“That so? You flatter me. Surely there are better conversationalists in Octavinelle, with all those silver tongues.” Leona made a shooting motion with his hands. “You should run back to your school of fish to compare.”

Another fit of sporadic giggles. When they, at last, died down to an eerie quiet, Floyd’s whisper was as loud as a shout in a cavern.

“At the end of the day… we’re both beings that lurk in the dark~”

Leona grunted. “… Who needs the light anyway?”

Deep down, he knew the truth.

It was him who needed that light the most.

[shalotttower]

The Art of Disappearing (part 2)

Title: The Art of Disappearing Fandom: Resident Evil Village Characters: Lady Dimitrescu x Reader (female) Summary: Lady Dimitrescu enjoys wine; you enjoy living. You pray to god those don't overlap. Word count: 1900+ Notes: Implied violence, implied death (not reader), tension, topics of disillusionment and loss of faith, WINE Part 1

You don't forget.

The small tube remains in your apron pocket for the rest of the day and the next, and every time you touch it ─ a gesture done without thinking ─ you're reminded of where it came from.

It's not that hard. Just a walk to the Lady's chambers. Just returning an item to where it's supposed to be. And if someone sees you, then you've simply found the mistress' missing lipstick.

In six months you've only seen Lady Dimitrescu when serving meals. Her shoes sometimes would pass by while you were cleaning the floors. You've never spoken a word to her before, or even looked directly into her face for more than a second. The idea of being in her private quarters, uninvited and out of place, is nerve-wrecking. But you promised. You gave your word, even though it was the only option possible.

At five in the afternoon, just before dinner is served, you go.

Lady Dimitrescu's chambers are located on one of the higher floors. Everything smells like jasmine here; sweet, heady perfume in the air with a faint trace of something bitter to balance it out. The red rug under your feet absorbs sounds, making each of your steps almost silent. You take a turn at a vase filled with wilting roses, then another near a painting of a woman who looks like Lady Dimitrescu herself but much younger.

To knock or not to knock? Your fist hovers over the door. What if she hasn't left for dinner yet? What if she's taking a nap? To wake her up seems like a grave mistake. You stand, awkward and quiet, with a tube of red lipstick in your pocket.

After another few minutes tick by, you decide to knock.

Nobody answers.

With a sigh of relief you enter, shutting the door.

It's spacious here; high ceilings, tall windows. The curtains are drawn back, allowing the sunlight to flood through.

Her vanity table is a beautiful wall piece, carved from dark mahogany and polished to a shine. Your reflection in its mirror is clear as day. A maid with tired eyes and hair styled in a braided bun. You're not here to gawk though. The faster you're done, the better.

You put the lipstick back where it belongs ─ there, done ─ and turn to leave.

She has a massive bed, you think in passing. Must be comfortable to sleep on; it looks like it could fit four people and have space left. A canopy of heavy curtains hangs from its frame, slightly open.

It wasn't open when you entered.

You didn't open it either.

Two golden eyes watch you in mild interest through that gap. Oh no.

"My lady," you croak out, and manage a curtsey. "I didn't know you were resting. Forgive me for the intrusion."

The words tumble out of you in a rushed mess of vowels and consonants. Lady Dimitrescu does nothing to acknowledge your apology, instead she studies you, in silence, in a way that makes thin hairs on the back of your neck rise. She's dressed for bed, you notice ─ a nightgown of dark silk and delicate lace. Finally, you snap out of this staring contest and bring your gaze to your feet.

"You're not one of mine."

The comment is so soft that you barely catch it.

"No, my lady. I work in the halls and dining room, mostly."

"And yet," she says. "You are here. Do you have any business in my chambers, or were you simply lost?"

It sounds like a joke but you're sure she isn't smiling. You curtsey again ─ deeper this time, anything to make amends and live yet another day under this roof with all your fingers intact.

"I found something that belongs to you, my lady. And only-"

You hear a gentle rustle. A scratch on a matchbook.

"Lift your head. I can't understand you if you're a puddle on my floor."

Slowly you do.

You've seen her while waiting, seen her while bringing out drinks and standing near walls, served her meals with hands that trembled and a bowed head; never for more than one second, never for more than half a breath.

Lady Dimitrescu sits at the edge of her bed with one leg crossed over another. A cigarette in a dark holder is perched between her fingers; she blows out a cloud of smoke which drifts towards the window. It smells expensive, unlike what your dad used to smoke. Your throat burns at the memory.

"Well?"

"I found your lipstick, my lady, and came to return it."

You're not stupid enough to mention Daniela. Something tells you this is a secret between you and her alone.

"Where?" Lady Dimitrescu asks.

Your brain scrambles for an answer. "In a... a corner of a hallway. Near a window, second floor. East wing."

You wonder if she believes you. The tip of her shrinking cigarette glows brighter as she takes another drag.

"Was that all, then?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Dismissed. Refill my glass before you go."

There's a bottle on a nightstand, and it's the prettiest you've ever seen in your life. A pattern of intricate metalwork decorates its sides and top, like vines curling around stems or branches woven together, so delicate that they'd look real if not for their color.

"...yes, my lady."

It takes forever to pick it up and pour.

The rich wine flows ─ a viscous syrup ─ dark like late July cherries meshed together in one liquid drop. It makes your head spin a little. You're too aware of yourself. How heavy the bottle is, how clumsy your fingers feel when handling glassware like this one, worth more than your body weight probably; how much gold is it alone? Five thousand lei? Ten thousand?

You try not to think about it, where it comes from. You don't want to be sick all over her floors, because then you're dead for sure.

"That will be all."

Happiness in castle Dimitrescu is short-lived and fragile, but you've learnt to cherish these few seconds when you can.

When your hand twist the doorknob, she adds as if in afterthought: "I rarely visit the east wing this time of the year. I wonder how it ended up there."

"I'm not sure either, my lady. Have a pleasant evening."

The door shuts close.

You've done everything in your power to keep your presence as faint as possible in these walls, so that you're forgettable in every single way, but still useful enough to keep around.

It's a simple formula which worked so far. So far.

You hope Daniela is happy with herself, now that her mother knows you exist.

---

There's not much to her.

Not many things to say, not many experiences to share. All that's known about her is what she wears: a maid's outfit, standard issue.

And her eyes, of course. She has very expressive eyes that convey more than she thinks. They hold a certain kind of weariness to them ─ not just physical exhaustion from labor or lack of sleep, but emotional fatigue which seeps deep into one's bones until they ache at night, when there are no distractions left. When there're no chores, no conversations, nothing except a room with two beds (or four) and another girl trying just as hard to sleep.

Is it going to be like that? Yes.

Will she never leave this place? Yes.

Does anyone miss her? If there's anyone left. She hasn't got a letter from the village in a while.

Does she still believe in god like her mother (they had a small altar at home, decorated with simple things like a fresh bun and candles in various colors), then her father, her grandparents? She wants to, but he's stopped listening long ago.

Is she afraid? Sometimes. But mostly she's just tired.

Pretty maids with expressive eyes aren't a rarity in Dimitrescu castle.

Most of them have a similar story: born in the village, a father who works in a field, a mother who stays home, maybe a sibling or two. The oldest girls in the family who always end up here. Their fathers couldn't provide for them, the harvest was poor, and so on until their mothers send them off to work for 'someone rich', because 'at least you won't starve, at least there's a bed and a roof, and you get paid'...

...but money stops coming one day; there's no word, no letter, and their mothers cry in the kitchen.

Poor, scared, desperate things.

---

"How did it go? Did you put it back?"

You're not surprised to find her in your room. She's sitting on one of the beds, flipping through an old journal you've hidden under the mattress. It's a book full of silly poems you used to write in your spare time, back when you thought those were important enough to preserve on paper.

Daniela's fingers slowly leaf through the pages.

"I did."

"And you didn't tell it was me?"

"I didn't."

Her face lights up. "Good. Now I don't have to eat you."

You stand in front of her, two hands clasped together over your apron.

Is there a code of conduct which applies to your mistress being in your room? Or do you just wait until she leaves? You're not sure; Daniela doesn't seem to be in a rush. She continues browsing through your private thoughts instead with intense interest.

Your handwriting is messy, untidy scribbles in pencil; you see her struggling at times to read them. There are smudges of graphite here and there where your hand rubbed on paper by accident.

You wonder how much of yourself is revealed there without any filter or censorship, or self-restraint.

"I like this one." Daniela says after a while.

She points at something. It's a poem about a girl who lives by a lake, and goes looking for rocks and pebbles along its shore every morning. She keeps them lined on her windowsill, and her family laughs at her because what is she doing, collecting trash.

It's a sad one, you realize. You've forgotten you even wrote it until now.

"Thank you, my lady."

"Is it about your home? Where you grew up?"

Her eyes flick between you and what's written down on the yellowing paper.

"My mother didn't let me near the lake," you reply. "She was too afraid that I'd drown."

That's not really what Daniela asked; she wants to know if this is about your life before the castle, your family ─ parents who gave birth to you (and sent you here), brothers or sisters who played with you when you were little. But it is also as honest of an answer as you will give.

You don't understand why she even asked. Curiosity, maybe. Yes, that's a feature constant enough in her personality. Curiosity which pushes her to poke around and wiggle herself into every corner just to see what's there. She'll find out, absorb and then move on.

There's something very innocent about it.

She can also kill you without a second thought, you think grimly, watching her.

Daniela gives you a funny look. Then huffs, apparently deciding that it's not worth getting upset over.

The poems stop around the mid-point of your journal, sometime during spring. The rest are blank pages from then on, it's been at least six months since you last wrote anything new. She shuts it close and places it on top of your folded blanket.

"You're no fun today," she comments while standing up.

You've never been a great conversation partner, that's true. But again, what is the exact definition of 'fun' here?

Before you can apologize for not being entertaining enough, Daniela waves: "Good night!", and then leaves through the door like any other guest would.

The journal lays on your bed, unassuming. You tuck it back underneath your mattress.

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 21

Part 21:

When Liana texted Art that she wasn’t feeling well and would go to her apartment after work instead of coming to his place as planned, he didn't even notice his brows furrowing. Concern took over him. She also didn’t respond when he asked what was wrong.

They had been following this routine for over a month now. Liana would go to work, Art would go to training, and then she would come over, they’d have sex, and she would stay the night- at least four times a week. She had a shelf in his bathroom and several drawers in his closet (so she wouldn’t need to go home before work, which made sense).

When Art knocked on her door, he wondered for a moment if it was okay to show up at her place unannounced. He thought deeply and realized he had never been there. She had lived there for over a year, and he had never been to her apartment. He had hardly been to this part of town. He hated the fact that Liana lived in this part of the city, paying to live in a building that looked so rundown.

“What are you doing here?” She looked like he had just woken her up when she opened the door. She wore sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt he didn’t recognize, suspecting it might belong to Patrick, but he didn’t say anything about it. “You didn’t say what was wrong, only that you weren’t feeling well. I wanted to check.” He didn’t wait for an invitation and walked in. “I got my period and I’m exhausted, so I didn’t see the point in throwing myself at you,” she smiled as he raised an eyebrow and glanced around her apartment. There was a wall in the living room blackened with moisture. “You don’t have a couch in the living room,” he said, trying to keep his cool and not get upset by her statement. “You’re sharp today,” she responded sarcastically. “Why don’t you have a couch?” he asked. “I don’t like couches,” she replied, and Art continued to walk around the apartment, not that there was much room to explore- the place was the size of a matchbox. There was a peeling wall in the bathroom; how did that not drive her crazy?

“I can feel you judging me. Stop it.” She rolled her eyes, and he looked at her. “I’m not judging you,” he sighed. “Is there a supermarket nearby?” he asked. “Yes, why?” she replied as he opened the fridge, which was almost empty. “I can buy my own food; I’m just barely here,” she understood what he was planning.

“But you’re here today and have nothing to eat. Plus, you’re not feeling well and prefer to be here…” He paused, absorbed in observing the surroundings, "rather than at my place, which objectively has a fridge full of food and a couch.” He looked at her. “Art, my head is splitting, and my womb is stabbing me from the inside. I’m not hungry, and you don’t need to go to the supermarket.” She rolled her eyes and went to bed.

Art sighed and took off his shoes. Liana could be stubborn about things that had no reason to be stubborn about, but the last thing he wanted was to make her feel worse.

“Hey,” he muttered and lay down beside her. The bed creaked. He officially hated this place. He refused to believe she had lived here for so long. Had her parents been here? Maybe he would talk to them and get them to visit her. There’s no way they were okay with her living like this.

“Hey. Sorry I bailed on you.” She sighed and closed her eyes, settling on his chest. “You could’ve come to my place. You know that, right?” he said. Now that they weren’t looking at each other, it was a bit easier. “It seemed pointless since I can’t have sex,” she added a chuckle after the sentence.

Art didn’t respond. He really didn’t want to argue with her, and he felt that anything he said now could destabilize their situation.

“Why are you angry?” she asked without lifting her head. In moments like these, he hated how well she knew him. How every facial expression and sound he made revealed exactly how he felt. “I’m not angry, Lia,” he mumbled, gently running his fingers through her hair. “I know this place is falling apart, but it’s not so bad once you get used to it,” she tried to sound amused, but they both knew it was a baseless argument. Because no one should have to get used to mold and mildew on the walls. Certainly not Liana. Certainly not Liana when he was the one holding her most nights.

“Yeah…” he mumbled in response. “Art. Just say what you want so you don’t explode in two weeks; we both know it’s coming.” He could sense her eye roll from her dissatisfied tone. “Do you really think you can only come to me if we’re having sex?” he asked after a few seconds of silence. “That’s kind of the point of our agreement,” she mumbled, and now Art wanted to see her face when she spoke, so he moved a bit, and she lay beside him.

Art knew Liana struggled with these conversations. More than that, he never wanted to have this conversation. He wanted everything to just flow naturally to the point he wanted, and they were totally on their way there. Four nights a week is pretty committed. There’s no way she’s that clueless about the situation.

“It’s not a blood-signed contract, Liana, you know that, right?” he said, trying to sound amused but coming off as bitter. “I didn’t want to burden you; you already have a lot of pressure since you got the criterion for London,” she said, and Art ran a hand over her face again, unable to control the need to touch her when she was so close.

“You know I don’t think about the Olympics when you’re with me, right? Now every time you’re not with me or at work, I’ll just worry because you’re sleeping in a place with asbestos. I’d rather worry about the Olympics,” he said, expecting her to get upset, but she laughed. “What?” he asked, not understanding what was happening.

“I know you hate talking about Patrick, but when we first moved here, I yelled at him that we’d get sick because there’s asbestos in the walls, even though we asked the landlord, and he said there wasn’t.” She mumbled the end. “Sorry,” she quickly added, assuming she had made the conversation awkward.

“Lia, I don’t hate it when you talk about Patrick. You’re the one who hates talking about Patrick,” he replied. “Why don’t you have a couch?” he asked again, deducing it had something to do with Patrick.

“When we first moved in, we had nothing. Basically, there was just a bed, and we were super broke because neither of us had found much work yet, and Patrick hadn’t won any tournaments for a while. We also didn’t want to ask our parents for money,” she tried not to look at him, but his hand gently held her face in the same place. “Then Patrick brought some couch that someone gave him as a gift, and he was so proud of it. It was this awful color, had a huge hole, and smelled like piss. I felt like I hated him as much as I hated that couch, and it was unfair because he was trying to do something good, and I was just horrible to him for a few days,” she said, and Art nodded.

“I don’t think I’ve ever treated anyone as badly as I treated Patrick,” she concluded quietly. She didn’t even explain where the couch disappeared to, but Art understood. “Sometimes, it’s easy to be terrible to the ones we love,” he said. He wanted to say he knew Patrick and that he was sure Patrick was awful as well. That Liana didn’t need a couch with holes and walls with dampness, but he didn’t say it. “What’s the worst thing you’ve done to someone?” she suddenly asked, looking at him with big eyes.

“Sometimes, I think that the way I talked to you then,” Art said, watching her reaction and seeing her nod. “I thought about it a lot afterward…” she confessed. They had never really talked about it. So many years had passed since then. So much water under the bridge. “I never understood why you reacted that way. I think it stayed in my head for years” she said quietly, and Art closed his eyes for a moment and sighed, trying to gather his thoughts.

“It’s not an excuse, but when Patrick told me you were leaving, it was the day after we said we’d try to see if we could be together, when we sat outside at Christmas dinner,” he tried to see if she remembered. “Patrick told you?” her brows furrowed, she looked surprised, and her jaw clenched. “You didn’t know that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “No, you said your mom told you, and I didn’t understand why you were so angry and why you decided I was lying to you,” she said. “Patrick realized something had happened between us from how we behaved that evening and asked me what I would do when you left for Europe. It caught me so off guard. I felt like an idiot, like I was building this reality with you in my head while you were leaving me without saying anything…” Art was embarrassed to say it out loud because he knew how childish it sounded. “While you had already told Patrick,” he sighed and closed his eyes. The number of times he wanted to take it all back.

"He only knew that I had applied. I found out I was accepted two days before I was at your dorm. I planned to tell you, but the day before, I told my parents, and it was so hard. I just wanted a few more moments before everything changed," Liana said quietly. She didn't know Patrick was involved in it. She didn't know he was playing mind games with Art.

"You know that I was sorry for what I said the moment I said it, right?" he asked, and Liana nodded. "I know. I guess I knew it even before, but in the beginning with Patrick, I was deeply inside my own head," she said, quickly brushing her nose. She remembered how strange the beginning of their relationship was.

"What do you mean?" he asked, not sure if he was allowed to pry into their past like this. "Every time we made out and stuff, I kept thinking maybe I was overdoing it or something. Is it weird that we're talking about this?" she suddenly asked, interrupting herself. "No, I wish we had talked about this five years ago," he replied, and they both chuckled. "I was so convinced I was overdoing it and that Patrick would think I was desperate or that I was too much in general, or that he was just passing the time until he got what he really wanted," Liana lay on her back, not wanting to look at Art anymore. Talking about all of this was too hard.

"Lia, that was a ME issue. You were perfect. For years, I replayed the nights with you in my head. It didn't compare to anything else I had. You know that, right?" he asked, hating the fact that she turned her head away from him. He was thirsty for her gaze. He was always thirsty for her gaze. "It doesn't matter anymore. We were kids," she shrugged, and he nodded.

"You know I don't take this for granted, right?" he asked, and she turned back to him. "The fact that you let me back into your life. I won't throw that away for something meaningless." He explained himself, and she smiled. "We're a bit stupid, huh?" she asked, and they both laughed because everything really was stupid. "I need to ask you something. If it's weird, just say so, okay?" she added. "Shoot," Art didn't think there was anything Liana could ask him that he wouldn't answer. "Are you sleeping with other people?" she asked, and Art raised an eyebrow, unable to stop the smirk that appeared on his face. "Oi, relax. I don't care if you are. It's just that I was talking to Melissa, and she told me to ask you because we're having sex without a condom, and if you're sleeping with other people, then we probably should be using one, I think," she rambled, but Art was in his own universe.

"I wouldn't be sleeping with you without a condom if I were sleeping with other people," he said, biting his lip. "But you can, tho." she added. "Liana, we're together most of the week. When would I find time to fit someone else?" he was amused. "Do you want us to meet less?" she asked quickly. "How did you get that from what I said?" he didn't know why, but he really liked the direction of this conversation. "I'm not inferring anything. I'm just saying if I'm getting in the way of a line of girls you could be-" he kissed her a little to shut her up and a little because he wanted to. "I'm perfectly fine with how things are," he pressed his forehead against hers, and she nodded.

They're perfectly fine just like this.

Patrick had been living in his parents' vacant apartment in New York for several weeks now. What irritated him more than them agreeing to it without any argument, was the fact that they had asked him if everything was alright, if he needed anything. The apartment was so spacious that he wondered why he hadn't asked for it earlier. Why hadn't he approached them when they moved to New York? They spoke on the phone, they cared about what was happening with him, they offered help all the time, and he kept refusing. Why? Why was he so proud? About what? For whose sake? Why couldn't he have offered Liana to live in this apartment instead of the terrible place they were living in?

And while pride led Patrick, he knew he needed their help in every way now. He needed to get back into good shape. He needed the right nutrition and the toughest workouts. He needed to start winning again. And again, they decided to help him, because they said they remembered that in London it paid off and when he trained with Kirk he won quite a bit. They knew he had potential. Patrick thought he hated the word "potential" almost as much as he hated everything in his life right now. Why did he have to ruin everything good happening to him?

"Nice place," Tashi said after looking around, and he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I knew you'd approve," Patrick replied. "Coffee?" he asked. "Why not, if you're going to waste my time, might as well do it with coffee," she settled into one of the chairs in the dining room while he prepared something to drink for both of them. "I'm not going to waste your time, Tashi," he said and sat down across from her. "Tell me how you're doing, don't be like this," he tried to lighten the mood. "I'm a busy person, Patrick, what do you want?" she was done with a small talk, Patrick had to know that already.

"I want you to be my coach," he said, not taking his eyes off her for a moment. Challenging her with a brazenness unmatched. "You're joking, right?" she returned, looking at him with a gaze he couldn't understand. "Why should I do that, Patrick?" she almost sneered. "Because I'm going to be better than him, and if you coach me, it will happen faster," he insisted. Not posing it as a question. Just stating fact. Like knowing that the Earth revolves around the sun, so Patrick Zweig will be better than Art Donaldson.

"You're delusional," she said after a few seconds of silence. "You know he got a criterion, right? He's competing in the Olympics in half a year. Do you really think I'll just leave him and go on some risky journey with you? Who do you think you are, Patrick?" she retorted. "You know what? You owe me, Tashi. You fucking owe me," he tried a different approach. "Excuse me?!" If she were closer, he would have got a slap across his smug face.

"You knew about the abortion and didn't say anything. The only reason your poster boy is that good right now is our night in Atlanta. You cost me Liana," he said arrogantly.

"You're projecting, Patrick. The only one who cost Liana for you is, well, you. Your inability to function in a relationship. Your inability to do the most basic thing and make your girlfriend happy. She was miserable. How does it feel to know that she preferred to talk to me than to talk to you? To know that you lost her forever to Art fucking Donaldson? To know that if he gets her pregnant she will be the mother of his children without thinking twice?" she looked directly at him. Sees his face changing from sadness to anger to determination.

"You won't coach me?" he asked after a few minutes of silence. Thinking about everything she said. "Of course I won't coach you, Patrick, but I can send you a list of sharks that might agree to waste their time on you. And you won't be better than Art, but you'll be a worthy competitor. You'll be able to make money and not be dependent on your parents' charity. That's the best I can do for you," she stood up, went to the door.

"You know I won't let this go on forever, right? You must know that." he said, and she turned to him with a questioning look. "The only reason Liana and I aren't together right now is that I know she needs to ventilate. The moment she returns to me - and don't get me wrong, she'll come back to me - he won't play like he's playing now," he said confidently.

"Patrick, you really don't understand what's going on around you, do you? They're madly in love. They're basically living together, not removing their eyes from each other. The whole package. Want me to give you advice as a coach? Find someone else to love. It's not your love story. It never was," she concluded and left the apartment.

What does Tashi even know about his love story at all? He's going to beat Art Donaldson in every competition from now on and especially in the most important competition, he's going to make sure Liana's back, before she gets confused to think that he's not the main character in her story.

Hey guys, sooo it's not my favorite chapter, so please bare with me. I was kinda struggling with it. But I think I'm on the right path, so the next one is going to come faster and might be better. Anyway, let me know what you think and I hope you're sticking around 💜🤍 

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[ebongawk]

"Chrissy used to wait until her parents were out of the house and then dance around her bedroom to Corroded Coffin and sing into her hairbrush. It felt like a huge rebellion in her mind at the time." for @storiesofimagination

More than anything else, Chrissy hated being late.

It was unlike her. Even despite her mother drilling the entire family on being punctual all her life, Chrissy knew that being on time would have defined her. A flower planted in a vase could be just as beautiful as one grown in a field, after all. Just not quite as free.

Despite having a doctor's appointment as an excuse, Chrissy still took the stairs up to school two at a time. The excused absence in her hand for her first two periods felt meaningless – just more wasted time she'd have to use, taking it to the front office. She stormed through the hallway, swinging by the front desk before headed to her locker.

And she stopped all at once. Taking two broad steps back to absorb that which had attracted the attention of her peripheral vision.

A crystal tape case had been dropped on the ground. Innocuous enough, she leaned down, picking it up and turning it over in curious hands.

Songs she didn't recognized were scribbled onto the back fold. The front was hand drawn, as well, featuring a creepy, disembodied hand. Like someone had taken macabre liberties with Thing from The Addams Family (a lovely series of which she'd only been allowed to catch episodes at Vicki Rosenbaum's house during weekend sleepovers). A mixtape?

Without thinking about it, Chrissy tucked the case into her backpack. Wondering if she could figure out who it belonged to later, she regained the time she'd lost in her distraction by practically sprinting to class.

Later, after finishing out the rest of the day and walking home – breaking up with Jason, while the first act of liberty she'd taken for herself in some time, was almost met with regret when school let out and she didn't have a ride home – Chrissy found herself in a commodity of an evening.

She was home alone.

Her little brother was off at a friend's house, and her parents had a dinner event for her father's office. Chrissy was in pajamas, taking the stereo out from her closet with every intention of having her own Risky Business moment as she flipped idly through her small collection of contraband tapes her mother could never find out about.

And she stopped.

What about that tape from school?

It'd fallen beneath her pen case in her backpack at school. Chrissy dug it out, taking in the details of the case art she hadn't before allowed herself to see. Blood dripped down one side of the disembodied hand, with scars etched into the flesh. A hand freshly chopped for Frankenstein's monster, the blood still warm enough to flow.

For the first time, Chrissy also recognized a little brand in the corner of the case.

Corroded Coffin, she read. Why does that sound so familiar?

Only one way to find out.

Chrissy popped the tape into the player.

The sudden, grating sound of guitar feedback screeched through the speakers, and Chrissy slammed the stop button with a little cry of surprise. Her chest heaved, heart hammering against her ribs at the sudden noise. Gosh, but that was unexpected. Her own tapes usually started off with a gentle easing into the music. The steady drumroll or techtonic beat building up the artist to launch.

Turning the volume dial down a few dozen notches, Chrissy paused for a moment before leaning back and hitting play.

The wall of sound that hit her was far easier to manage at a softer level. She listened, waiting for recognition to wash over her, but the seconds ticked by with screaming bass and heavy drums, and Chrissy was no closer to recognizing the song. Even the singer, with his deep, gravelly voice, was an unknown.

The volume came up a few notches. Then a few more. And Chrissy found herself falling into the music.

It was different than anything she'd ever listened to before. Deeper, angrier, with grating sounds and heavy lyrics that pulsed a new heart in her chest. It was music that contained all these dark, terrifying emotions she didn't normally allow herself to feel. All the stuff she kept locked away and buried, only to rear up as monsters in her dreams she couldn't escape.

Even the instruments sounded angry. The drums marched and the bass crooned, but the guitar. It kept going off on these long, intricate tangents, accentuating the point of the lyrics by emphasizing the terrible, wonderful passion. The quality wasn't great – a little too echoey, like it hadn't been recorded in a studio – but the songs were beautiful.

Chrissy lost her will to return the tape back to its original owner. Instead, it found a half-permanent home in her Walkman. Pulled only from the anonymity of her headphones during the limited alone time she was awarded at home.

Every time, the songs greeted her with their energetic shouts. The lyrics embraced her like an old friend.

Chrissy learned them all. She screamed them into her hairbrush, falling dramatically to her knees on her mattress as she extended all of her own deep, dark emotions out into the ether of existence. As her Corroded Coffin album took them in, nurturing them and verifying that it was okay for her to have them. That negativity didn't equate bad, only new.

There was a risk, she knew. Her parents could come home early one day. Her mother could discover the tape case, on the rare occasion she accidentally left it at home. The tape would be disposed of, and Chrissy couldn't exactly buy a new one. She'd checked the record store downtown – the grumpy cashier had never even heard of Corroded Coffin.

She almost thought the tape had been dropped through a wormhole. Like there was another, luckier dimension out there where Corroded Coffin was a well-known band, but here, she would be the only person who would ever know their ingenuity and raw brilliance.

The thought was private and insane, but it made her sad. It made her selfish. It made her desperate to prove herself wrong.

And, completely by chance, she was.

Chrissy walked into Benny's the first Saturday of spring break to meet her friends for milkshakes before they made a trip to Star Court to start browsing prom dresses. Chrissy had to steel herself against their gentle, pitying looks when they talked about their own dates, knowing Chrissy had every intention of going stag. Like that was something to be ashamed of. (Going with Jason would've been much more shameful, considering she'd caught him cheating on her during winter break, but that didn't seem to matter in the eyes of her friends.)

As soon as she walked through the doors, though, something extremely familiar caught her eye. Chrissy had to do a double-take, because no way.

It was that same bloody, disembodied hand from her tape. With huge, boldly printed letters advertising Corroded Coffin's Metal Friday Bash! from the night before at some bar called the Hideout.

The night before.

"Oh, nuggets," Chrissy breathed in disbelief. She'd missed it? She'd missed it. Without warning, her eyes suddenly filled with tears, and Chrissy immediately turned and walked back out the door, much to the startled shouts of her friends.

They were real. They were real, and they'd been here, just the night before, and she'd missed it, and now she'd never find them again. She yanked her Walkman off her belt loop, holding it tightly to her chest like it alone could support her weight as she floated blindly through the vast, endless ocean of the parking lot. The salt spraying her eyes and making them tear up, and was it any wonder that she missed the broad-chested boat out in the middle of all that nothing?

"Ugh," she pitched, her voice drowned out by a startled, "Oh shit." Her Walkman went flying from her grip as she fell backward, two strong hands managing to hold her wrists and keep her upright but completely disregarding the flying tape player. She felt the tug of her headphones as they dislodged from the jack, the thing making a loud crack against the pavement upon impact.

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.

"Shit, fuck, sorry, sorry," the person still holding her wrists repeated over and over again above her. "Shit, Cunningham, I–– Fuck, I didn't see you–– Oh, shit, here, lemme get that."

Wrists suddenly released, the blob of black she'd barreled into headfirst suddenly swooped down. Chrissy turned at the same time, body operating separately from brain as she searched the ground for the Walkman that had already been collected.

"It doesn't look––"

"My tape," Chrissy gasped, reaching toward the hands holding her player. The bony wrists becoming her new lifeline. "Is my tape okay?"

"Uh, lemme check––" A pause as the hands holding her Walkman hostage popped the cassette lid open. Chrissy held her breath, anticipating the worst, and the mass of person she hadn't quite acknowledged let out a barking laugh. "Holy shit. Holy shit? Christ, dude, uh. What the fuck?"

It was only then, impossibly, that Chrissy looked up and finally registered who it was she was hanging onto like a buoy.

Eddie. Eddie Munson? Eddie Munson had her tape. Eddie Munson was staring down at her, his eyes twinkling in the mid-morning sunlight, with raised brows and a disbelieving grin stretching his cheeks.

Oh, she thought. When did Eddie Munson get so pretty?

"Cunningham, where the fuck did you get this tape?"

Blinking, Chrissy looked at the tape in his hands. Confused. No one knew who Corroded Coffin was. Why was he questioning her?

"Um, it's mine?" she answered, suddenly, just then, remembering that it wasn't actually hers. That she'd found it. That it likely had not fallen through a wormhole, because the band existed, proven just behind her in the Benny's entryway by a hand-drawn poster for a concert she'd missed.

"Uh, no it's not," Eddie laughed. "It's mine."

What?

What?

"What?" she squeaked out, fingertips tensing against his wrists. She couldn't let go, because if she did, he might take her tape. He might destroy it, or step on it, or kidnap it.

"It's our demo tape," he said again, still grinning. Still in obvious disbelief. "Uh, my band's, I mean. I lost it, like, two months ago. Now how, may I ask, did it end up in the dainty little paws of Hawkins' own Queen, Chrissy Cunningham the First?"

His. Eddie's. His band's? Eddie's band? Eddie was in Corroded Coffin. Why wasn't she more surprised? His tape? His demo tape? What was a demo tape? Was he gonna take her tape?

"Um," she said, still blinking up at him. "I-I found it. At school?"

"No shit?" Eddie laughed. "Well, fuck, Chrissy, that's–– Okay, but wait. Why were you listening to it? Why didn't you, like, throw it away?"

She let out an indignant noise of affront. Her own shock slowly succumbing to an accepting sort of anger.

"'Throw it away'?" she asked. "What? Why would I do that? I love it, Eddie!"

His eyebrows had disappeared behind his fringe, he was so shocked. Shaking his head like he couldn't believe it, though his eyes never left hers. After mouthing a what the fuck to himself, he looked over her shoulder. Seeming to remember where they were.

"Uh. I-I mean. Have you, uh. Have you eaten?"

"What?" Her head reeled with the sudden jump of conversation.

Scratching the back of his neck, Eddie shrugged. "I mean. Obviously you, like, listened to the tape, yeah? And, y'know, you're, like, the first, besides the fuckin' band, to do that. I'd, uh. I'd love to know your thoughts?"

Another shrug, bashful, and Chrissy watched in amazement as a flush crept its way up his neck.

"If you've got some time," he tacked on after a few seconds of silence.

Time. Time to talk about Corroded Coffin. Time to talk about Corroded Coffin, with Corroded Coffin.

"I, um, do," she answered. "I have time."

Oh, nuggets, the grin that split his face was brighter than she had ever seen the sun. It softened his features, displaying dimples as his eyes crinkled with warmth.

Chrissy couldn't help it. She smiled right back.

"Fuck yeah," he responded, snapping the case of her Walkman back in place, tape still stuck inside, and handing it back to her. Never breaking the skin contact they'd somehow maintained this entire time. "Well, uh. After you, then?"

She didn't end up going to Star Court that afternoon.

But she also didn't end up going to prom alone.

(inspo ask)