#and ruined a paintbrush for the cause

[wholoveseggs]

Kinktober - {Day Thirteen} {<- kinktober masterlist}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List} {Kinktober}

{Klaus Mikaelson x F!Reader} Request {@hiddledede-heddlededo}: I have this idea for kinktober about Klaus teaching the inexperienced reader all the ways she can pleasure her self how to do a BJ, ridding, alllll the lessons an the reader is so overwhelmed by the feelings and good sex that she squirts and is so embarrassed but Klaus is pleased with what he managed he starts laughing because he didn’t know she had it in her. She gets very insecure but he assured her he loved it by doing it all over again.

♡♡♡ This idea??? HOT. {Just like the man himself} ♡♡♡

2.6k words - Kinks: Klaus bring sweet, art studio flirting, inexperience, teaching && squirtinggg....

Your boyfriend's art studio was your favorite place in his house. It felt the most like him, a place where you could see his personality on every wall. The best times were when he allowed you to watch him work. You loved listening to him hum under his breath while he sketched, the soft sound of his pencil moving on the paper, and his concentrated frown as he worked.

He encouraged you to try and create something yourself, but you were nervous about ruining his nice canvases and paints.

You had sketched out a simple landscape with a pencil, and were using paint to fill it in, trying your best to match the colors of the sky and trees.

It was going terribly, and you had been working at it for hours. You groaned and put down your paintbrush, leaning back to stretch your sore muscles.

He could see your frustration, a feeling he knew all too well. He came up to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, taking your hand and guiding the paintbrush back to the canvas.

"Just go slow, love," he murmured into your ear. "Take your time."

You nodded and leaned back into him, letting him control your hand.

"The trick is to go from the outside in," he told you. "You have to let the color blend into each other, don't force the brush. Don't worry about the details yet, just get the base layer down."

His lips trailed down your neck and he sucked lightly on the sensitive spot just below your ear. You giggled and the brush slipped out of your fingers, splattering paint across the canvas.

"Shit," you muttered. "I don't think I'm very good at this."

"It takes practice," he said, pressing another kiss to the back of your neck. "You'll get better with time. I have faith in you."

He took the paintbrush and placed it in the jar of water next to your palette. He turned you around in his arms and cupped your cheek, his blue eyes warm and full of love.

"Maybe we should take a break," you said, giving him a shy smile. "I'm not really in the mood to paint anymore."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well," you bit your lip and looked up at him through your lashes. "I... you know how we haven't? done it ... yet?"

His lips twitched and he ran his thumb across your bottom lip. "You want to have sex?"

You nodded and glanced away. You were blushing hard, feeling a little embarrassed at having to ask.

He chuckled at your shyness, so sweet and innocent. He had been waiting patiently for you to be ready. He had taken things slow, wanting to make sure you were comfortable before taking the next step.

"We can have sex if you're sure," he said.

"I am," you replied quickly, a little too eager. "I mean, only if you want to."

He let out a hearty laugh, then lifted you up, causing you to squeal. You wrapped your legs around his waist and threw your arms around his neck.

"What do you think, love?" he asked. "Here, on my desk, or should I carry you upstairs?"

"Your bed," you replied, leaning forward and brushing your lips against his. "Please."

He carried you out of his studio, not breaking the kiss. He kept his hands under your thighs to support you. His lips were soft and his tongue was warm as it met yours. You were a little embarrassed by how much noise you were making, moans and whimpers spilling from your lips. You didn't know if that was something he liked or not.

When you reached his room, he tossed you onto the bed, sending you into a fit of giggles. You watched as he removed his shirt, tossing it on the floor, followed by his pants, leaving him in just his boxers. You blushed, not used to seeing him so exposed.

You nervously reached for the buttons on your dress and began undoing them, slowly revealing the lace lingerie underneath. He grinned as he saw the white babydoll top, his eyes trailing down your body, taking in the sight of you.

"Oh, so you planned this, didn't you?" He asked, pointing to your white panties. "You came here today hoping we'd end up like this."

"I may have had something like this in mind," you admitted, giving him a small smile. "Do you like it?"

"I love it," he said, pulling you towards him.

You squealed as your body was pulled under his, his weight a pleasurable warmth against you. You let him take control as he kissed you deeply, his lips never leaving yours. He shifted so he was lying next to you, his hand resting on your lower belly.

"Wait," you murmured against his lips, pulling away. Everything was moving so fast and you needed a moment to breathe. "I... I don't know what I'm doing."

"I'll teach you," he said, his finger tracing the straps of your top. "If you'd like."

"Yes, please," you nodded and he leaned forward to give you another kiss.

He took your hand and guided it toward the band of his boxers. You grasped the elastic, looked him in the eye, then began pulling down. Your fingers fumbled, trying to figure out what you were doing, and you let out a nervous laugh.

He stared down at you, watching you struggle with a slight smile on his face. He was amused by how unsure you were. He enjoyed that you needed his guidance.

He guided your hand into his underwear and brought you to his hardening cock. Your eyes widened as you felt it for the first time, the thickness of him, his silky skin.

"Have you ever been touched before?" He whispered, eyes half closed as your hand explored.

"Just by myself," you admitted, face heating up from the admission.

His mouth curved up into a smirk and his eyes sparkled. "Show me," he told you. "I want to see the way you do it."

You nodded, letting his cock go and moving your hand into your panties, keeping your eyes on him. You liked how he was looking at you, it gave you confidence.

You started off with gentle movements, finding your clit easily. You had never managed to bring yourself over the edge, not even close, but with him watching everything was more intense. You lifted your hips and let out a moan, feeling your pussy getting wetter. You could hear the soft squelch as your fingers began to slide faster, your clit starting to swell from the attention.

He took your other hand and placed it back on his cock, encouraging you to keep stroking him. He enjoyed your little moans, watching as you worked yourself up.

Your moans became louder, and your pace quickened. You arched up and grinded against your hand, the sensation so much more intense than before, but you couldn't reach that peak, no matter how close you got.

You finally broke, panting and pulling your fingers away from your clit, face bright red in frustration.

"I-I can't," you told him, and looked away. "I've tried so many times before and I just can't."

He tilted your chin, making you look back at him. His thumb stroked your cheek and he gave you a reassuring smile.

"May I?" He asked, his fingers trailing over the lace of your panties.

You nodded, too nervous to even speak.

He pulled the lace aside, humming at the wetness he found. He pressed one finger inside, and you gasped, surprised by the intrusion.

"Nik," you moaned, reaching for him, gripping his shoulders.

He kissed your neck and moved his finger deeper, slowly fucking you. Your eyes were closed, head thrown back, and he could see how flushed your face was.

"Sometimes, just touching your clit isn't enough," he told you, sliding a second finger inside. "Some people need a little bit more. Like this."

He curled his fingers and hit a spot inside of you that made your whole body jolt. You cried out, nails digging into his shoulder.

"Ahh," you whimpered. "Klaus, what...?"

"There we are," he smirked and continued rubbing that same spot, over and over. "Does that feel good?"

"Y-Yes," you nodded, gasping and clinging to him.

You were panting now, the pressure inside of you building and building. Your hips were bucking against his hand and you felt tears prickling the corner of your eyes.

"That's it," he praised, watching you. "Fuck, you look beautiful like this. Cum for me, love."

You didn't have time to reply before your orgasm slammed into you, your whole body tensing and trembling. You squeezed around his fingers and you felt your pussy pulsing, clenching and releasing. It was an incredible sensation, unlike anything you had experienced before.

You were gasping for air, trying to catch your breath. You had no idea orgasms could be that intense, you had never felt anything like it.

"See? All you needed was a little guidance," he said, smiling at your wide-eyed expression. "Now, are you ready for the main event?"

"Um," you hesitated, suddenly feeling anxious.

"If you're not ready, we can wait," he assured you.

"No, I want to," you nodded. "But... can I try something first?"

"Of course," he sat back on the bed and waited for you to tell him what to do.

You blushed, and took a deep breath, kneeling in front of him.

"Can I..." You licked your lips. "Can I taste you?"

His cock twitched at the suggestion, and he nodded. "You don't have to ask, love."

You gave him a shy smile and leaned forward, gently pulling his cock from his underwear. You looked up at him, unsure of exactly what to do, then placed a kiss on the tip.

"Go slow," he told you. "There's no rush."

You wrapped your lips around the head and began sucking. His breath hitched and his hand came to rest on your head, but he didn't push you further.

You moved further down his cock, using your tongue to taste him, to get a feel for him. The weight of him on your tongue was new, and not entirely unpleasant.

You used your hands to stroke what you couldn't fit into your mouth and he seemed to like that. You continued sucking, listening to the sounds he made. They were low grunts and sighs, and you liked that you were the cause of them.

"Good girl," he praised, his fingers tangled in your hair. "Go a little slower, use your tongue more. Yes, just like that. So good, darling."

The praise made you moan, and you wanted to do everything in your power to keep hearing those words. You bobbed your head faster, and you heard him mutter something under his breath. You felt him twitch and then his hand was on your shoulder, pulling you off his cock.

You looked up at him, wondering if you did something wrong.

"I'm sorry, I-,"

"You're perfect," he said, cutting you off. "But if you keep going I won't be able to last."

"Oh," you smiled, happy with the compliment.

He leaned forward and kissed you. You let him maneuver you until your back was flat on the bed, his body over yours.

He tugged your panties down your legs, tossing them behind him.

"Are you ready?" He asked.

"I think so," you nodded.

"Just tell me if it hurts," he told you.

You gave him another nod and he placed himself at your entrance. He pushed inside, the head popping past the ring of muscles.

"Breathe, sweetheart," he said, seeing how tense you were.

You took a deep breath and he pushed forward, sliding in the rest of the way. It felt a little strange, and uncomfortable.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"I'm fine," you said.

He slowly pulled out and thrust back in. You felt a spark of pleasure, and he smirked when he saw your reaction. He kept his thrusts slow and gentle, and after a few minutes the discomfort had faded and was replaced with pleasure.

"How's that?" He asked.

"Feels good," you replied, and he picked up his pace.

You gasped, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you. You were a little overwhelmed. He was bigger than you expected, and you were feeling so many things. It was amazing, but also a lot.

"Nik," you panted, moaning as he hit a particularly sensitive spot.

He reached down, grabbing your waist and lifting you into his lap. The angle was different, and it felt even better. You could feel yourself clenching around him, the heat in your belly beginning to burn hotter.

"Move your hips for me darling, like this," he murmured, showing you how to grind against him.

You rolled your hips, moaning as he hit deeper than before. Your arms wrapped around his neck, holding onto him as you tried to keep the same pace he had set.

"There, use your knees and bounce on my cock," he told you. "That's it, sweetheart. Just like that."

He gripped your hips, helping you stay steady as you moved. Your nails scratched his shoulders and the sting only made him want you more. Another orgasm was quickly approaching, but it felt different, somehow. Bigger.

"N-Nik, I'm-," you panted, unable to finish the sentence.

"Me too, love," he told you, his breath heavy and uneven.

You bounced harder and faster, and then he hit something inside you, sending a jolt through your entire body. It was like an explosion, and you felt every nerve in your body light up. Wetness gushed out from between your legs, soaking his thighs and the sheets below you. You couldn't stop shaking, it felt like there was an earthquake happening inside your body.

You felt him still and tense beneath you, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist and pulling you closer. He buried his face into your neck and groaned, filling you with his cum.

The two of you stayed still, holding each other and trying to catch your breaths. It was quiet, and neither of you spoke, your cheeks were burning hot with embarrassment. Had you just lost control of your bladder? You wanted to crawl into a hole and die, you couldn't even look him in the eye.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked, voice filled with concern.

"No," you shook your head, eyes focused on the bedsheets. "I just... I-I didn't know that could happen."

"Neither did I," he said, giving you a grin.

"Oh God, I'm so embarrassed," you hid your face in his neck, hoping the world would just swallow you up.

"Why? That was amazing, love."

"But it was... It was all over the place, I'm sorry."

"I'm not," he kissed your neck and pulled back so he could look at you.

You were sure your face couldn't get any warmer. You felt a little better, knowing he was impressed and not disgusted, but you were still mortified.

"It's not... not normal, right?" You asked.

He shook his head and laughed, pushing you back onto the bed and hovering above you. He pressed his lips against yours, kissing you slowly.

"It's normal," he assured you. "And it's very, very hot," he whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "I hope you're not too tired because I want to make you do that again."

You bit your lip, nodding at him, eager for him to continue.

"And again, and again, and again..."

{<- kinktober masterlist}

[cocosvalentine]

Crisis Averted

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MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Synopsis. it was meant to be a simple day of relaxation but you work for Rafayel so days like this don’t exist the only solution is putting him in his place but it seems he enjoyed it more than you wanted him to

Pairing. Reader x Rafayel

Content. sub Rafayel, dom reader, teasing, degrading, oral fem receiving, object insertion, edging, overstimulating, pet names, dacryphilia, sexual content, breeding ( if you squint ), SMUT, NSFW, uhhh idk what else el oh el :3

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           A soft hum leaves your lips as the sound of smooth jazz fills the room. You moaned in delight as you dipped your body further into the comfort of the warm bath. Finally, a day off which was long overdue. With an increase of wanderers and protecting or rather looking after Rafayel, your body was beyond sore and needed to relax. But it was shortly interrupted by the sound of a familiar ring. “Fuck” you groaned under your breath as you grabbed your phone. “Hello,” the word came out more angered than you had hoped. “I’m sorry to interrupt you on your day off it’s just I haven’t been able to get in touch with Rafayel; he’s even gone and locked himself in his studio. We have an important meeting with a buyer but he’s been acting out and I need your assistance” you groan at the news that Thomas shared about Rayafel's recent outburst. 

           “I’ll be right over” The water splashes around you as you reassure him that you’ll settle the matter with the stubborn artist. You hear a sigh of relief from the other hand as he sings praises to you but it doesn’t help quell your anger of your relaxation being interrupted. You quickly get dressed as you rush over hoping to settle this quickly. Using the spare key Rayael gave you, you slam open the door spooking Rayafel in the process. “Damn it Thomas” he mutters under his breath as he lifts his gaze to meet yours. He quickly looked away a clear pout placed on his face. 

           “Are you going to tell me what this is about or do I have to force it out of you Rafayel” You see the way his body shivers at the sound of his name leaving your lips. “It’s none of your concern” he simply says trying to ignore how your eyes stare deep into his soul. “Oh? If that was the case I wouldn’t be called here on my day off all 'cause you wanna be a brat isn’t that right” your tone is cold as you speak slowly approaching him. Rayafel remains on the ground his paintbrushes surrounding him and dry paint litter the floor. “You could have simply ignored his call” he crosses his arms as he speaks his pout deepens but his eyes never once waver from their position on the ground. 

           “Hmm, how long do you plan on looking at the ground my eyes are up here” he flinches at your word as his eyes slowly raise to meet yours for a mere second before looking away once more. “Rafayel I’m sure I’ve made it clear that I expect full eye contact when we speak” he ignores your words as his eyes studies the floor. His breath hitches as a pained whimper leaves his lips at the harsh feel of you tugging his hair. Your nails dig into his scalp as he stares deep into your eyes the only noticeable emotion is anger. 

           “It’s Thomas's fault…I already told him I had no plans on selling the painting but he went behind my back and…” His words are cut off as you release your grip pushing him back down. “Yet you can’t respond like a grown man, instead you're in here sulking like a little brat who got his candy stolen. I don’t care what's going on between you and Thomas, what I want to know is how you're going to make it up to me for ruining my day off” he scoffs at your words as he crosses his arms upset at being blamed for something he had no part in or so he believed. “Hmm, it seems I haven’t made myself clear. Either you lose that fucking attitude before I fuck it out of you. Or perhaps you want me to strap you to your bed again and edge you like the little whore you are” A blush emerges on his face at your words. 

           “Thats not fair I’m not even the one who called why am I being punished” hr argues as you roll your eyes in response. “You decided to be a little brat, you decided to lock yourself in your studio, your actions started all of this so the next thing I expect out of that whore mouth is ‘I’m sorry ma’am’ Do you hear me Rafayel” you watch as he grinds his teeth a blush embracing his face as he stares at the ground. “I’m sorry” he whispers those words hardly loud enough for you to hear. “What was that I can quite hear you” you taunt before pressing your heels against his crotch. He inhaled sharply at the feel of your foot pressing harshly against his crotch. “I’m sorry ma’am” The words came out in a strangled breath it was clear he was trying to bite back a moan. “Hmm, I'm not sure if you truly mean that, strip” he jerks his head up at your command. 

           He quickly looks away as he slowly stands. You watch as he strips at a teasingly slow pace. “It would be wise to hurry up, I don’t have all day” As those words leave your lips he quickly rushes to discard the rest of his clothes. You scoff at the sight of his cock throbbing and leaking. “Fuck you really are a pathetic little whore, I didn’t even do much and you're already dripping. Are you really that needy for me to use you like the whore you are” he continues to avoid your gaze as you circle him but the way his cock twitches seems to give you the answer you desire. Grabbing his cock a stifled whine leaves his lips, “Aww what happened you were so ready to bite back after every word” he bites his lips further at your taunting words. 

           Letting go of his cock you reach down and grab his belt, “Hands behind your back” you smirk watching how quickly he listens to your command. Wrapping his belt around his wrist you make sure to tighten it before pushing him to the ground. You turn him onto his back using your heels as you press it against his chest. He looks up to you his eyes so full of need, begging for you’re touch. You trail your foot down towards his cock pressing it harshely as a startled cry leaves his lips. You press down further watching how his back arches and his eyes begin to tear up. Fuck did he look perfect. 

           Lifting your foot you bring it closer to his face as you press it against his lips, his tongue quickly darts out as he begins to lick and suck at your heel. You chuckle at the sight you hardly needed to commend him when he was so desperate. “On your knees” you order as you remove your heel from his lips. He rises to his knees his hands tied behind his back as he looks up at you awaiting his next order. He watches you slightly confused as you pick up a few items. Kneeling before him you grab his cock causing a whimper to leave his lips. His eyes widened watching how you place a make-shift cock ring with his shoe tie. He whimpers at the tight and restricting feeling but he can’t deny how good it made him feel. 

           You push him down a bit as you sit behind him, you watch how his hips tremble at the feel of your salvia dripping onto his ass. Stroking his cock you gather a bit of his precum before mixing it with your saliva. Soft moans leave his lips as he watches patiently wondering what you had up your sleeve. “I do hope you remember this is a punishment” you taunt watching how his eyes widen at the sight of the paintbrush in your hand. A choked gasp escapes his lips as he feels you pushing the paintbrush into his ass. His body trembles feeling the foreign object push deeper into his aching hole. “Ma-ma’am this f-feels strange” he whined before feeling another insert him this one was much thicker. 

           Heavy pants left his lips as you continued to push more inside him stretching him more than he thought was possible. “Hmm is this really all you can fit” your words are cold as you scoff in annoyance. “Make sure none of them fall out unless you want me to stuff more of them inside” he whimpers at your words before giving a weak yes ma’am. “On your knees” you order he slowly rises to his knees as tears stream down his face. Grabbing hold of his cock he watched with blurred eyes as you press a thin paintbrush into his cock. A faint gasp leaves his lips as his back arches. 

           More of his precum leaks out as you continue to push the paintbrush deeper. His eyes widen as loud moans leave his lips. His breath becomes heavier as he feels a strange sensation. His body trembles the need to cum is overwhelming. “T-take it out…I wanna cum please take it out” You scoff at his words as you squeeze his cock tightly. “Are you telling me what to do?” you squeeze tighter as you speak. “Wasting my time with petty actions and now you think you can boss me around, oh Rafayel you haven’t learned a single thing” you taunt as you begin to stroke his cock.

           His hips buck begging for more pleasure but it was almost painful. The need to cum was overwhelming. “Oh fuck fuck” he whines as he feels you toy with the thin paintbrush while stroking his cock. “If you're a good boy you won’t come until I say so” he whines in response as he bites his lips. A loud cry spills from his lips as you nearly pull out the paintbrush. His cock shudders as more precum leaks out. Minutes passed as you continued to edge him, he was becoming overstimulated as the time passed. 

           A sharp gasp left his lips as he felt you twirl the thin paintbrush around in his cock. Choked moans struggle to escape as he bucks his hips begging for more. Drool seeps down his face as his eyes roll back. “Thats not good this is meant to be a punishment, Rafe, but here you are whining like a dog in heat fucking pathetic” he whines at your words but he continues to chase the pleasure. “W-wanna cum” he lets out in a desperate attempt to seek more pleasure. “Please I-I can’t an-anymore” he whines as more tears stream down his face. 

           You giggle at the sight of Rafayel red in the face, eyes filled to the brim with tears and drool leaving his lips. “Aww does my little pup feel good” You taunt as he struggles to let out a proper sentence, broken moans leave his lips his blurred eyes focusing on the way you pushed the thin paintbrush into his cock. “Only good boys get to cum, if you beg properly maybe I’ll let you cum” You wondered if he heard you properly he clearly was overwhelmed by the pleasure. His mind was dazed from the pleasure but the pain of not being able to cum was torture. Whimpers left his lips as he bucked his hips upwards begging for more. “Pl-please I wa-wanna cum ma’am pl-please” he struggled to let out as another loud moan left his lips. 

           His breath was heavy as he felt you push another paintbrush into his ass. He was full to the brim but he couldn’t help how much he wanted more. The pleasure from both ends was overwhelming for his mind. Tears streamed down his face as he continued to beg. “Fuck please I wanna cum I wanna cum I wanna cum” He repeated the phrase over and over again his desperation leaking through it only excited you further. “Aww does my little pup wanna cum, but only good boys get to cum and you haven’t been a good boy” Your taunting words were followed by a deep chuckle at the way Rafayel sobbed. 

           His desperation was enticing he was a blubbering wet mess begging to be used. “I-I’ll be a good pup I swear pl-please wa-wanna cum” he begged through rigged breaths as his eyes followed your movement. You stood up before removing your panties and tossing them aside. “If you wanna cum so bad then I’ll give you three minutes to make your master cum” he hardly let you finish as he latched his mouth to your dripping pussy. You bite your lips feeling him sucking on your clit in a desperate attempt to make you cum faster. Grabbing onto his head you pushed his head deeper into your cunt loving how his tongue fucked you. “Good boy, making your master so proud” you mewled as your breath quickened. 

           Soft moans left your lips as you road his tongue, licking your dry lips you can’t deny you were close. Rafayel knew every spot that could bring you close to the edge. “Oh fuck” you whine as your fingers reach down towards your clit rubbing it as you threw your head back. Loud moans began to leave your lips, “Fuck Rafa-Rafayel, oh fuck yes right there baby” you whined feeling your climax approaching. A loud cry leaves your lips as your climax crashes down like waves. You whine as Rafayel drinks it all. You pull away staring down at his cum covered face. Catching your breath you lean down gently toying with the thin paintbrush. You slowly pull it out before pushing Rafayel down onto his back. 

           You straddle him as you aligned his cock with your cunt. “I’m not one to go back on my word and you’ve been a good boy so you desire a little reward” he whines in response as he watches his cock despires inside your warm walls. Soft pants leave his lips as you bounce on his cock, “Wanna cum inside your master?” he nods his head desperately at your question. “Go ahead cum inside be a good pup and breed your master” he arches his hips to meet your movement before you know it his hot cum is spilling deep inside you. 

           He cries out loudly as he cums, and you continue to ride him. You come to a steady pace before stopping completely. You slowly rise as his cock slips out your cunt, “You’re not done, shouldn’t you clean your master and thank me” You stare down at the tired men as you utter those words. He slowly rises as he opens his mouth, you watch as he licks his cum from your cunt. “T-thank you ma’am” he whimpers clearly out of breath. Before you can speak you hear the sound of your phone ringing. 

“Hey is everything settled?” Thomas's voice fills the room as you turn to stare at Rafaeyl. “Hmm yes, he’ll be there shortly don’t worry I already dealt with his little outburst” you replied as Thomas thanked you over and over. “It’s no problem always happy to help,” you said in a cheery tone.

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not used to this so be kind first love and deepspace fic and second fic overall hope ya enjoy :3

[theworldofotps]

Painting (Drabble)

Pairing: Lord Debling x Reader Word Count: 743 Description: Y/n is struggling with a painting when she recieves some much needed help.

So, I have never written fanfiction for Bridgerton before but after watching the first half of season 3 and meeting Lord Debling I couldn't help myself. I'm also very nervous to post this because it's a bit out of my comfort zone but I hope you enjoy anyway.

Dedicated to: @madhatterbri who encouraged me to write this, helped form the plot and is overall one of the best. I appreciate you so much thank you! (I haven't added my normal tag list since those are usually just for wrestling. If you'd like to be added to a tag list of anything I write besides wrestling let me know!) __________ Y/n let out a soft huff as she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, staring at the canvas in front of her. She’d spent the last two hours trying to paint a bird from the book set on a stool in front of her. This was a painting she just didn’t want to mess up on but the more she stared at it the worse it seemed to look.

“Is everything alright m’lady?”

“Yes Ruth, just having a bit of difficulty getting these colors to work and blend the way that I wish them too.”

“Please let me know when you are ready, and I shall draw the bath for you.”

“Thank you, Ruth.”

Watching the maid leave, Y/n turns back towards her painting and examines the book once more. Adjusting the apron she wore over her dress to keep from ruining it, she dipped into her paints again. More time passed and her frustrations only grew as the colors started running and made the bird look like a mess.

Dropping the paintbrush in the pot of water she hung her head in defeat, deciding to just start all over again. Not having heard the door open she nearly jumped, feeling a pair of arms wrapping around her before a chuckle sounded in her ear.

“Sorry to startle you love I thought you heard me enter.”

“That’s alright my lord I just was focusing on something else.”

Alfred glanced around to be sure they were alone before pressing a soft kiss to her neck.

“Tell me what’s the matter.”

“I’m trying to paint this bird and all of my colors keep running I’ve spent hours on it but alas to no avail.”

Remaining silently as his eyes drifted over the canvas in front of them, since they had began courting he was trying to take interest in her hobbies. When he found out she had a love for painting much like his mother, it was one he quickly did his best to learn all he could about it.

“Allow me to offer my assistance to you.”

Grabbing her hand gently together they picked up the brush, the sparks of electricity she felt as they moved together dipping into her paint pallet. She could barely concentrate at the feel of him pressed against her back. When the brush touched the canvas, she let out a soft laugh.

“What is it brining you such joy my dear?”

“Your beard tickles my cheek.”

Y/n spoke softly as his own smile grew to match hers the two talking in soft whispers as he helped her fix the once ruined picture.

“What do you think?”

“It looks so much better thank you for your help now we both must sign it.”

She said pointing to the feather quill and pot of ink sat on the desk a few feet away from them, Alfred reached over grabbing the quill. Signing the name Debling then placing the quill in her hand so she could sign her last name.

Placing it back in the ink pot Y/n slowly turned to face him their eyes meeting hers lighting up as his softened.

“Miss. Y/n  I know this may come forth as a bit forward but may I kiss you?”

He asked a slight nervous quiver to his voice if you listened close enough she remained silently causing him to clear in throat. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel pressured into anything. After a moment her smile grew as she leaned closer to him their lips brushing in the softest touch before a knock on the door sent them apart. Composing themselves she turned to see Ruth entering one more.

“Excuse me miss but your mother is looking for you.”

“Thank you, Ruth please tell her, that I will be right there.”

Ruth nodded, leaving them alone again y/n sighing softly she turned back to Alfred who gently touched her cheek.

“I must be going as it is rather late, I shall call upon you tomorrow afternoon would that be alright?”

“Yes, I would enjoy that very much my lord.”

The pair left the room and y/n saw him to the front entrance, his fingers once more touching her cheek in a bid farewell. Watching him leave she sighed her arms wrapping around herself, the thought of his arms around her caused her face to heat up. Turning, she went off in search of her mother.

[blingblong55]

Model- 141+ König NSFW

Based on requests:

1.OKAY BUT 141+KÖNIG WITH A READER THAT DOES DIGITAL ART🏃‍♂️ 2.Can you write about TF141+König with an S/O what draws, animates, etc? I was thinking more digital art, but traditional is cool too. If you only wanna do one character, can it be Ghost? Thank you!

GN!reader, digital artist/painter!reader, established!relationship, civilian!reader, smut, 18+, MDNI, Sub!Male, Dom!reader

A/N: Some will be short...and you'll definitely notice who is my favourite on this one

As someone with the talent and skills to create art with your hands and a clean canvas, you always find yourself looking for a model. Thankfully, he is there now, in that position, just for you.

Price:

You mentioned before that you needed a model to help you with proportions for your art. Your strong and bulky boyfriend decided to be just the right model you needed. For months you and him work late at night, and he props himself up for you, wearing whatever you need to bring your ideas to life. The people who buy said art always admire how realistic your art looks, and how no other artist does what you do. And it's all thanks to him.

At the moment, he is on the sofa, dressed in a black suit, a collar around his neck, eyes looking at you, pleading for you. "Stay still, I have to get this angle." You sketch his body onto the canvas of your tablet. You had been teasing him since he woke up, vibrator to his sensitive cock. You had tied him up before this session, mainly because he kept touching himself for some release. Now, staying still and obeying was his punishment. And for him, it was the worst one so far.

"How...much...more...please..need-.." he said in between whimpers and moans. You approach, looking at him, taking in how needy he was being. You get down on your knees, and he moves a little only to find you sketching this position. He whines and closes his eyes, whimpers getting louder by the second. "Stay still or do I have to teach you another lesson?" The masochist in him wanted to be taught a lesson, "Please..please do" You grin, and slap his face lightly causing him to whimper in response. "Don't make any noise, I'm busy.." For an hour, he stayed still, cumming from just the way you teased and looked at him. For sure, this site would end up in someone's dungeon.

Gaz:

When he and you started to get more intimate and he'd make you look at what you and he were doing through the mirror, that's when you knew he had to be the model you'd use for your creations. It took time to mould him into who he is for you but it was all so worth it. Currently, he is leashed to your canvas' stand. Looking up at you, the bite marks and hickeys you had done hours prior still worn proudly on his neck. He was wearing nothing but the collar on his neck and the fishnets you made him wear. His face is slightly red from the heated makeout session you two had since he was a good boy for you.

Your paintbrushes colouring the canvas in front of you, he looked up at you. How sexy you looked when you were so focused on your art. You know he likes it when others watch as you fuck him. How well you can ride and how well he can listen to you. So, you brought a mirror into the art studio. Made him look at his reflection as you ride him, each time he would ruin a line in your art, it was another slap to his already abused face. Tears ran down his cheeks but a wide smile as he enjoyed the thought of how others would look at the canvas and see a moment where you once more made him yours.

Paintbrushes used to mess with his already-hardened nipples. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you to go faster, but you resisted, not wanting to ruin the creation you were making. Some paint smudged to his chest, your hand prints on them when you'd get carried away and ride him faster.

Soap:

He was the one who offered himself up, wanting to please you not just physically but visually. You had made him wear his kilt, war paint on as he spread his legs open for you. Hands in between his thighs, he leans forward, looking up at you with puppy eyes. You had been working with him in this position for too long now and all he needed was just some attention, physically. You knew you wanted this painting to feel more personal, needed a touch of yourself and him in it. So, you picked out the paints that were safe for the next activity you had in mind. You laid the cloth of a canvas on the floor and commanded him to go to it and get on his knees to wait for you.

Poured some of the safe paint on his chest, and you and he began to make out. The cloth filled with paint, art made from your bodies. By the time you and him were done paint was all over your bodies. He requested, as a reward, that you and him take a shower and if you wanted, he could also pose for you in the shower.

Ghost:

He loves to be your sub so when you mentioned that you needed a model for your art, he wanted to be the subject of all your attention. Currently, you have him tied up with leather ropes. A cock ring on him as you paint his position. He looks up at you with puppy eyes, his mask lifted only far up for you to see his lips. Every now and then, he closes his legs to get some friction, only to have his inner thighs spanked by you. He whimpers a little, asking for forgiveness since he knows what you will do to him after you are finished painting this position.

He looks at you, doe-eyed. "Please, please just touch me...just once." But you ignore his pleas. He shuts his eyes and begins to think of how you would touch him. That was the only way he could find some release while he was tied up. You look at the canvas, paint and figures finally making sense, and then you hear his loud moans and cries of pleasure. He was cumming at the thought of you, no one around to touch him, just his mind playing for him.

His whimpers were louder as he couldn't stop cumming, it all leaked everywhere, spurting out as he bucked his hips. "Oh...yes...oh..mmm." he moans. Leather leaking his own mess as you watched with a pleased smile.

König:

It all started with asking him for help in a position you weren't quite sure you knew how it worked or looked. He offered to help and now months later, he has become the man you please and base your art on. Tonight, you had a sudden idea, a man in a suit, touching himself as he wore some rather rougher ropes around his suit. König, is never opposed to the idea, he loves to listen to you and if he knows he can please you this way, then as your good submissive boy, he will obey. The tie he was wearing was now used as a choker that you pull any time he moans too loud.

When you finish sketching his position he looks at you, brows furrowed. "Can I please be touched now? I was a good boy...please" his voice soft, whimpers low. You stand up, the pen which you used to sketch his position in hand. You trail the cold pen along his skin, reaching his sensitive parts. He begins to move his hips, hoping you could go faster, to touch him sooner. Your hands are on his hip when his already hardened cock begins to throb, pre cum leaking as he looks at you. "Meine liebe, I'm so..." he moans. "I'm your messy boy..." he whimpers.

A/N: Maybe this was not part of the request...but a girl has her own needs...anyway..bye

[j2hoes]

Police Cars And Paintings. (Wally Clark x Reader)

Summary: Wally helps Y/N get her justice.

Word count: 2,593

Gif Not Mine. Requests Are Open!

Warnings - Murder? Swearing.

“Y/N Y/L/N was loved by all, caring, supportive and kind are just three words that her family and friends used to describe the young woman whose life was so tragically cut short at the age of seventeen. Y/N was a senior at Split River high school, with hopes of attending New York Fashion School, in order to pursue her dreams of studying fashion design. She was the valedictorian with a passion for the arts. We learn today that her body was discovered in the school’s art room, with multiple stab wounds to her  neck, chest and stomach. Police believe the attack was premeditated and to remain vigilant as her killer is still yet to be caught.”

Letting out a pained scream, I launch the tv remote directly at the screen in front of me, causing the image to shift and blur before settling into a dull, gray static. Feeling multiple pairs of eyes on me, I grip my hair, tugging slightly to feel the tightness in my skull as a way to relieve the emotional pain weighing me down.

“Hey, let’s not do that okay. It won’t help you.” Wally tells me, gently grabbing my arms and forcing them down as he wraps his arms around me in a comforting hug. Well as best as he can leaning from behind the sofa.

“Are we not gonna talk about the fact that she just broke the tv? She’s ruined movie night for everyone.” Rhonda complains, eyes shooting daggers at me.

“Like you even care about movie night. There’s other TV's in this school, we’re not gonna miss one.” I snap back, rage still coursing through my body. “At least your murderer was caught.”

Rhonda scoffs, turning to look at Mr Martin, who has remained oddly silent, as she slips her lollipop back into her mouth. Mr Martin simply shares a disapproving glance, not impressed by either of our actions or comments though he still remains silent. Not wanting to make the tension in the room any worse. It’s so thick you could cut it with a knife, cliche I know.

“At least you know who did it, that’s got to count for something and I’m sure the police will work it out soon enough. I mean, they already know that it was a planned attack.” Charlie comments, hoping to make me feel a little better, yet I still feel just as bad. If not worse than moments prior.

“Yeah and he’s still walking about school as though nothing happened! The cops don’t give a shit Charlie, I’m already dead, it’s not like anything worse is going to happen to me that they have to worry about.”

Wally’s embrace relaxes as he stands up straighter, arms falling to his side, causing me and everyone else in the room to turn and look at him. A serious expression is settled upon his face, an unusual sight as he is normally sporting a soft smile or at least a playful lightness in his eyes.

“Wait, the guy that did this goes to school here? He’s still here?” Wally asks, his questions directed at me as though nobody else is even in the room. Clearly something has rattled him.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m so pissed off. I still have to see him every single day and there’s no escape. Not even in death I get peace.”

With a huff, I push myself off the sofa. Forcing a smile at the group as I make my exit, the moment I step out of the gym I start running. Sprinting as fast as I can to the other side of the school before climbing up the stairs to the rooftop. The art room used to be my quiet place, where I would find myself able to relax and feel at ease. Not anymore. So, the roof is my quiet place now. After moving all of my art supplies here, I’ve found that there’s no reason for me to even step foot in the art room anymore. It’s been a month and it’s still too painful to be in there.

Picking up my paintbrush and dipping it into my paint to continue the mural I have been working on, I hear another pair of footsteps lightly jogging up the stairs. I know it’s Wally, I don’t even need to turn around to know it’s him. Ever since I arrived in this world, he’s been my rock. Helping me get through everything and it’s safe to say that in the short amount of time I’ve known him, he’s found a special place in my heart. It’s not a crush. I swear it’s not a crush. I just happen to have a soft spot for him.

“Holy shit. I knew you liked art but this is insane, why have I never seen this?”

Wally’s stare is glued to the mural I’ve painted, each ghost gazing back at him from their position on the wall. Rhonda’s trademark moody stare, Charlie’s sweet but somewhat shy smile, even Dawn’s curiosity shines through in her chestnut brown eyes. I watch as he notices himself. A proud smile resting on his lips. Wally was the most difficult to paint, I wanted to make sure I captured his beauty properly, though that tends to be very hard to do when someone is physically perfect.

“You even got my necklace, Y/N this looks so real. Like you’re so talented, this belongs in a gallery or something.” Wally continues, brushing his finger down the side of his painted face, still in awe.

“It’s still a work in progress. I haven’t even started on Mr Martin, or the band kids or the girl in the theater whose name I always forget.” I tell him, swatting his hand away from the wall before he smudges any paint that may still be wet.

“Yeah, but do you really want them on there? Mr Martin sure, but the others, they never show up to the support group. You should keep it contained, no? You haven’t even painted yourself yet.”

“That’s kind of rude Wally. I painted Dawn and she never comes to the group, but she’s my friend.” I tell him, placing my paintbrush down and beginning to walk over to the rail at the edge of the roof. “We’re all dead, we deserve some sort of memorial.”

Leaning against the rail, I watch the kids below living their lives as normal. As though nothing is wrong, as though I wasn’t just murdered a month ago. God, if they knew this is what happens after death, they’d be terrified.

The football team are running drills on the field, accompanied by the cheerleaders who are going over the same routines. Students sit in the bleachers, either reading or making notes as they study. Occasionally laughing together as they discuss the latest gossip or show each other something they’ve seen on social media. It’s a peaceful scene, watching as they stress over things so trivial, things that won’t matter in ten years time.

“How come you never told me that the guy who killed you still goes to this school? I knew he hadn’t been caught but I assumed that’s because was on the run or something.” Wally asks me, leaning with his back against the rail so that he can watch me rather than the school.

“I don’t know. I try to avoid him and I know how nosey the rest of that group are, especially Rhonda. No doubt you’d all be following him around the school like a bunch of creeps.”

“Yeah but that’s just because we care about you.” Wally nudges me as he speaks, trying to get me to smile, which proves to be very easy as I make eye contact with him.

My heart flutters, making me nervous as I stare up at him. Wally’s height would intimidate me if I didn’t know how much of a big softie he was. I truly don’t think there is a bad bone in his body, he breaks the stereotypical idea of what a jock is. Charming and popular, sure, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly.

Feeling his hand touch my chin, my smile grows wider as it gently moves to cup my cheek. His other hand combs through his hair, a nervous trait of his. Something I picked up on a while back, it doesn’t happen often because Wally isn’t one for getting nervous. He opens his mouth slightly, about to ask something. However, before he can my eyes catch sight of something on the field below.

“That’s him.” I point out, a flash of disappointment crosses his face before he removes his hand and turns to see what I’m looking at.

Harry Cole, clad in a dark hoodie is walking by the side of the field, heading straight to the art block. His pace is quick, almost like he’s in a rush and it’s the most panicked I’ve seen him since my death. Clearly something’s happened, a breakthrough in the investigation maybe? Police hot on his tail. Whatever it is, I need to know.

“That’s the dickhead that killed you?” Wally asks, scowling now as he takes him in.

“Yeah, come on, he’s up to something.”

Without even a second thought, I grab Wally’s hand, taking off in a slight run in order to catch whatever Harry’s up to. Wally’s gripping my hand in a firm hold, as if he’ll lose him if he lets go, thumb gently tracing circles into my skin despite us running.

Upon entering the art room, I immediately see Harry at the sinks, furiously scrubbing at something. Sharing a confused glance with Wally, I slowly approach him. I know he can’t see me and yet I’m still worried that I’ll disrupt him and spook me off, leaving me with no answers.

The closer I get the stronger the smell of bleach is, and then I finally see what he is cleaning. Butcher knife gleaming under the bright white lights, I spot the specks of blood still coating the handle and I know he’s trying to remove any evidence. Gloves adorn his hands in an attempt to mask his fingerprints. A silent tear rolls down my cheek at the thought of him never getting caught.

Wally’s arm wraps around my shoulder delicately. “You don’t need to see this.”

To my surprise, I don’t fight with him as he gently escorts me out of the room. I make no noise as I let the tears fall down my cheeks and I know Wally sees. Yet, he stays quiet. Not wanting to further upset me. He helps me to sit down on the old sofa that resides on the roof. With his hands on my knees he crouches in front of me, a concerned look on his face.

“You’ll be okay Y/N. I promise.” He tells me, words soothing my pain little by little. “Look I’ve got to run somewhere but I will be back so fast. I swear.”

Nodding my head gently, he presses a soft kiss to my forehead before dashing off to wherever he needs to be. Allowing me to wallow in my pain. The more days that pass, the more I feel as though justice isn’t possible. The more I feel like Harry will get away with everything.

Curling up into a ball, I allow my emotions to take over. Wails audible and body shaking with anger and sadness. I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I don’t understand how the others do it. They’ve been dead longer but surely they still feel the pain and anguish of being dead. Surely they must be hurting too.

I’m brought back to reality by the sounds of sirens, I’m not sure how long I was sat consumed in my sadness but I know that Wally is standing by the rail. Watching whatever it is that is taking place below. The sirens ring through my ears and I jump up to stand beside him, his arm instantly wrapping around me despite no words being said.

Police cars fill the car park, grabbing the attention of pretty much everyone in the near vicinity. Students stand in shock at the commotion being caused. Each window is filled with faces, eager to bear witness to what is happening outside. Wally’s arm squeezes my shoulders, a show of encouragement and support. I swear if he wasn’t by my side, physically holding me up with the arm that is wrapped around me, I think I would be a nervous heap on the ground.

With that, I spot it. Several police officers surround Harry as he is walked out of the school building in handcuffs. His hood shielding his face from view to the majority of students, however, I know it's him. Same outfit, same demeanor, same person. They’ve got him. I feel a weight lift from my shoulders and I let out the breath I didn’t even know I was holding.

“How did that happen? How did they know it was him?” I ask, completely bewildered by the entire situation.

Wally looks down at me, a shy smile on his face. He knows something I don’t. Turning to face him properly, I take his hands in mine, raising my eyebrows in an attempt to get an outside. Only for him in turn to focus his stare onto the floor.

“Wally?”

“Dawn has a pretty big social media presence within the school community. She runs it as though she’s an anonymous gossip blog, nobody knows who she is but everyone knows her.” He starts, still leaving me confused as to how this happened. “I managed to get her to the art room in time to take a picture of him with the knife. She posted it, it went viral and now the police are here.”

Feeling a rush of emotions run through my body, I somehow gain the confidence to pull Wally down by his gold chain. Gentle enough that it doesn’t snap but with enough force that he’s taken off guard. My hands hold his face as I press my lips to his, feeling his hands hold my forearms as he delicately moves his lips against mine. As I pull away slowly, my mouth drops open in shock as I gaze at Wally who is now eye level with me. Hunched over in order to kiss me.

“I am so sorry Wally. I have no idea where that came from, I just -”

Wally cuts me off with his lips on mine once again, he maneuvers slightly so that my back presses against the rail and I wrap my arms around his neck as the kiss begins to grow more passionate. His hands are holding my waist, body pressed tightly against mine as I feel every inch of my body tingle with excitement. I know Wally feels it too. When I force myself to pull away for some air, he doesn’t hesitate before moving to press light kisses against my neck.

“I’ve never felt this with anyone before Y/N.” He whispers against my skin, goosebumps raising at the feel of his lips moving against my neck.

He moves to look at me, a big, goofy smile on his face as I move my hands to play with the necklace dangling in front of me. Wally places his hands on the rail besides me, watching me eagerly, awaiting my next move.

“I really, really like you Wally.”

He chuckles softly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I really, really like you as well.”

[strrykais]

lie with you - not a date 📖

word count 1k.? (i lost track)

jisung was shitting bricks. he rarely has people come into his sanctuary, and much less girls. he has only had a total number of 3 girls in here. one his mom, two his ex and the last was you.

you made jisung really nervous, he fully couldn’t understand why. he kind of just pinned it on his social anxiety and went along his day. you were always so kind to him and you never really pushed him to do things that made him uncomfortable. in all honesty it started the day yall got stuck in the elevator. thats when the little feeling in his stomach started to form.

so with 7:30 creeping up on him, jisung is pacing the apartments living room trying to calm his beating heart.

“ji you okay? you look like you are gonna throw up.” donghyuck says walking out the smush room getting it ready for his one nighter.

“yeah im fine.” jisung quickly dismisses donghyuck wiping his sweaty hands on the front of his jeans.

“don’t be so nervous its just yn. you will be fine.” he says patting his hand on jisungs shoulder. “its almost 7:30 you should probably head down there.”

“yeah you are right. it will be fine!” jisung wasnt so convinced. grabbing his belongings, he ops to take the stairs to buy him some more time before he had to face the music.

the knock on the door doesn’t even catch you by surprise. jisung was always punctual, so when you opened the door the wind blowing the small pieces of your hair back, you give a bright smile to jisung on the other side.

“come in, let me grab my jacket. im not sure how cold you keep it in the studio!” you say with a big smile of excitement. you loved that jisung was letting you into his art life. you wanted to show him you cared so of course when he offered the opportunity to see his studio you couldnt say no.

the walk to jisung’s studio was quiet, but in a calming way. jisung was too focus on not making a fool of himself. he was worried he would say the wrong thing and have you running for the hills. but he knew you would never especially when you basically watched him embarrass himself in the elevator last time.

you were more focus on your boyfriend, he hasn’t messaged you back since you told him you were helping out a friend. was he upset? mad at you? you weren’t sure why. you both could of been together tonight but when work calls he always answers. before you could go further into self doubt jisungs smooth voice pulls you out.

“im sorry were you saying something?” you asked. jisung gives you a small smile, pointing up at the skies the beautiful reds, pinks and blues mixing. “my favorite part of the day, its always been my favorite to paint.”

“crazy because this is my favorite time too. right before the stars come out.” jisung gives out a breathy laugh leading the both of you to what you assume is the studio.

it was a lot smaller than you envisioned it, in the corner sat a desk with scattered sketches and charcoal. on the other was an unfinished painting of a beautiful sunset.

“its cozy in here” you say breathing in the smell of the chemicals of the paint he had left out which now was hard as rock stuck to the palette.

you continued to walk around the studio jisung close behind. the last of the sun shinning through the large windows showing the outside world. you suddenly stop, causing jisung to slightly bump into you. he mumbles out a sorry but you didn’t hear him your eyes caught something.

“you haven’t used the paintbrushes i got you? they are nice you should use them!” you say reaching out to softly touch the bristles.

rubbing the back of his neck, jisung nervously laughs. “yeah i didnt want to ruin something like this. it was from you and i wanna treasure it.”

you smile at him “its a gift for you to use, if you really mess them up that bad ill just get you some new ones okay?”

“promise?” jisung helds out his pinky. you glance down at his much larger hand and wrapped your smaller pinky around his “promise.”

jisung smiled and lead you to the desk of unfinished charcoal drawing, “im working on shadowing with charcoal wanna be model” he says looking at you while you stare at the beautiful drawings he had laid around.

“yeah how do you want me.” you perked up ready to listen to whatever jisung said. ears turning red, he leads you to a stool and sits you down.

you guys hung out well past midnight chatting and playing around in his studio. he showed you the art in mastering charcoal drawings and on the way home you showed him the star constellations in the sky.

previous | masterlist | next

a/n : i was eating in the first half… maybe writing isnt for me. this was kinda bad….

tags : @onlyhyunjin

[fancyfeathers]

william's darling pulling out one of her rare laughters when she sees william's face lol. she can't stop, and it causes william to chuckle with her as well. like a rare tender moment lollll

Forget-Me-Nots

(Yandere William James Moriarty x Reader) Father Like Daughter (Yandere William James Moriarty and his darling having a genius daughter)

(A/N)- Okay I just had to write something for this because it is just way too wholesome and I am writing a lot of darker longer projects. Plus I need to write a perspective peace.

You fiddled with your gloves as you walked downstairs, pulling the lace even more snug against your hand. You were all dressed up in a long baby blue dress, the heirloom necklace and matching set of earrings that was a gift from your sister in law, Albert’s wife, and your hair was pulled up and out of your face. A trip to the music hall, the first little fun family event of the summer that your husband was taking you and your two daughters out on.

You walked from the front entry, where the stairs ended and strolled into the drawing room as you ran your hands over the silk fabric, working out the wrinkles. William had fallen asleep after he got ready to leave, so you decided to let him rest, well you did not have much of a choice otherwise since he would be the only way you or your daughters would be leaving the house after all.

“William, I think we need to be leaving soon and-“ You cut yourself off as you looked up to see your husband, wide awake and sitting on the couch. Your eldest daughter, Eloise, was sitting on the couch next to him in her light pink dress that you had set out for her earlier this evening, her paint pallet and paint brush in hand and William was letting her paint on his face. “Oh goodness.”

To say this was a surprise was the least, you honestly could not remember the last happy time between William and Eloise. She was no fool and had gotten her intelligence from her father, when she was very little she had figured out the true nature of your relationship. She had been protective of her younger sister, Madeline and you. William caught onto her behavior very quickly, especially when Eloise began to show awareness of his other immoral actions, and since then their relationship had never been the same.

So seeing her painting forget-me-not flowers on his face as if it was a canvas was something that made you stop in your tracks. William’s eyes turned to you as you called his name and he smiled, a smile that perhaps shows a tiny bit of embarrassment. “Eloise ran out of canvas and she began painting on me when I was asleep.”

“I can see that.” You replied, a bit of surprise lingering in your words. You spotted Eloise turn her head around to glance at you as she lowered her paintbrush back to her pallet, and on her own cheek you could see paintings of lilies just below her left eye. “And it seems you are not the only person who has become a canvas.”

“Uncle Louis told me that he would take me to the market with him tomorrow to buy more canvas.” She spoke in response to you, it had been quite awhile since Louis had taken her anywhere as well due to the things she had tried over the years and he did not want her attempting anything while they were out, so Eloise hardly went out anywhere anymore.

“Well you best go wash up now so you can go out tonight.” After your words her eyes darted to the grandfather clock in the drawing room to see the time and her eyes immediately went wide with shock, he had never been good with time, as bright as she may be.

You and William watched her as she bolted up, tossing her pallet and brush on the table next to the couch they sat on, it nearly fell over the edge and you could only imagine how cross Louis would be if paint ruined the carpet. You sighed and looked back at William, who was still looking at the doorway she ran out of. You walked over to the couch where William sat, and you took the seat where Eloise had just sat, the seat still warm.

The blue of the flowers in contrast to William’s scarlet red eyes was such a strange contrast that you would have assumed either way that Eloise did this while he was asleep. A small laugh slipped past your lips as you looked at it, turning William’s attention from the door back to you once again. A chuckle escaped his lips as you laughed. “Does it look bad?”

“Eloise’s work? Never.” Eloise had a deft hand for painting, self taught, and every single one of her pieces was beautiful and this one was no exception. You pulled out a small compact mirror that you had tucked into your corset for him to see, and you flicked it open and held it up and his smile grew even wider.

“I feel bad that I have to wash it off for tonight, it is beautiful.” Your husband pushed himself off of the couch before bending down to press a kiss to the crown of your head. “I will go make sure Eloise is washed up as well and that Madeline is ready as well.”

You watched him walk out of the room, leaving you all alone in the drawing room. You made yourself stand up to pick up Eloise’s pallet and brush to wash off. You made your way to the kitchen and as you ran the brush under the water, making sure to get all the paint out to make sure the brush was not ruined when you dried, you noticed something from out the window. The window had a lovely view of the estate across the street and their absolutely stunning front garden, and unlike your own, theirs had forget-me-nots, just like the ones Eloise painted…

…but then your smile fades as you realize that is where she got her inspiration, from outside the window, something she could see but never touch. That was her life, that was your life, you could see everything beautiful on the outside but you could never touch it, making it even more ironic that she painted that lovely flower on William of all people.

[thatfandomslut]

Art Is Immortal

Janis Imi'ike x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Trigger Warnings: talks of dying, idiots crushing on each other and expressing their crushes through art

Request:

Valentine's / Followers Celebration; Janis Imi'ike with quote 15 and piece of chocolate number 8. Or: "Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while." w/ crushing

Valentine's / Followers Celebration requests are closed.

"You paint about death a lot," Janis commented, sitting on the stool behind (Y/n), who turned to give her a cheeky grin. There was something about the mischievous glint in (Y/n)'s eye that caused Janis's heartbeat to quicken in her chest. She had to remind herself where she was. (Y/n) didn't feel the same about her and they were just friends. Why couldn't Janis remember that? "You're work is always stunning, of course. I guess you could just color me curious as to why you're so infatuated with the idea of death so much that you would paint about it."

(Y/n) finished what she was doing in order to give Janis more of her attention. She placed the paintbrush into the water, swirling it around to rid it of the paint she had been using before wiping her hands on the smock she was wearing. "I guess because art is immortal, it outlives death. There are only two things that can outlive death, you know?" Janis quirked an eyebrow, wondering just what (Y/n) meant. "Art and love." (Y/n) commented, causing surprise to etch its way onto Janis's expression. It was missed by (Y/n), who was putting more paint into her wooden palette.

Janis took a second to process (Y/n)'s words. She didn't know that she might be a hopeless romantic. Maybe she was just reading into it too much. Maybe she was way too cynical to truly believe (Y/n)'s words. "Do you actually believe that true love can actually outlive something as permanent as death?" Janis questioned, looking (Y/n) over with a quizzical expression on her face. Her brown eyes reminded (Y/n) of chocolate and caramel as the sun hit them perfectly from the sunlight beaming out from the window.

"Do you not?" (Y/n) raised a delicate brow as she grabbed a fresh brush and began to paint again. Janis wanted to take it back, not wanting to ruin the delicate fabric that was her relationship with (Y/n). Instead, she waited for (Y/n) to peer back so she could shake her head in response, now feeling too embarrassed to say 'no.' There was a little smile that danced onto (Y/n)'s lips, tugging gently at the corners as it grew. "Death might be permanent, but that doesn't mean something can't outlive it, especially in terms of love. That's why people bury themselves next to their families and their loved ones. In fact, love can prolong life, even if death is inevitable."

There was a silent moment that passed between them as Janis thought about what (Y/n) was saying. She knew (Y/n) was intelligent, but she didn't realize just how wise she truly was. "So, what you're saying is… Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while. Then, when all is said and done, it can outlive death?" Janis repeated to the best of her understanding of (Y/n)'s words. She wanted to understand (Y/n)'s words perfectly.

(Y/n) turned around, her eyes dazzling again as they met with Janis's. Janis felt her breath catch in her throat as she forced her jaw to stay where it was. "Exactly," she said softly, leaning now on the table beside her. "I believe that true love can outlive anything. Whether it be death or hate, love conquers all. It even conquers art. That says a lot because just like love, art is immortal." (Y/n) expressed, lying her palette down, and placing her paintbrush in the water.

Janis watched her motions, smiling a bit when (Y/n) crossed the room to her. "Do you think…" She was struggling to think of her words properly as she watched (Y/n) approach her, giving her the undivided attention that she always craved. She cleared her throat as she glanced away momentarily. "Do you think you and I could outlive death?" She inquired as (Y/n) pulled a stool over to sit beside Janis. She felt herself subconsciously lean into the space (Y/n) was sitting in. (Y/n) didn't oppose or say anything about the action. Instead, she followed Janis's lead.

Their eyes almost simultaneously looked at each other's lips as they continued to lean in. "Yes, I think that what we have could outlive death." (Y/n) said before their lips finally made contact. It felt like the world stopped turning for a moment. Either that or an eternity passed. Janis forgot how time worked as they kissed for what Janis hoped would be their entire lifetime. Unfortunately, they had to breathe, causing them to slowly, almost hesitantly, pull away from each other. Neither completely moved as their foreheads gently found their place by resting against each other. Throughout the silence, the sound of Janis's rushing heartbeat throbbed into her ears.

Janis smiled a bit as they eventually parted fully, looking at each other with a strong sense of satisfaction passing between them. Everything felt right in the world. Maybe (Y/n) was right, maybe love could outlive death. Janis knew that she needed to drop her cynical thoughts, and for the first time in her life since her kiss during Spin the Bottle, she felt like love could be real. "I hope that you and I can have a love that outlives every piece of immortal art there ever was, is, and ever will be," Janis commented, realizing that whatever sap (Y/n) had was now rubbing off onto her.

A grin that caused Janis to feel her heart palpitate overtook (Y/n)'s smile as she moved to retrieve her art supplies to resume painting. "I'm sure we will, Janis." She responded, and Janis wondered how she could resume normal activities after such a powerful kiss. However, she was unaware of all the struggle (Y/n) was having as she attempted to recuperate from the kiss herself. Still, she forced herself to remain cool because, on the inside, she felt the hopeless romantic in herself screaming in joy. For now, she could express all of that joy in her art.

[tiedsh0es]

OJ in the cowboy AU has a history of starting fires in a fight but I like to imagine he first started buying matches because they reminded him of Paintbrush and deep down, though he'll never admit it, he misses them.

And he would just stare at them at night, gentle little flames- but then when things start to go downhill they become angry hateful flames that burn and ruin everything he touches. He starts to forget why he kept them in the first place. It feels like they've just always been there. He always causes problems for himself.

[kekaki-cupcakes]

Hello kekaki! Cloud you please write something for Jason with a stoic/shy body painter reader? I feel like he’d be a great model, cause he’s very patient and all. What do you think? No worries if u don’t feel like it, obvs!

I actually loved this idea and ended up putting heaps of headcanons and shit in it too because I love this kinda ask! [everyone usually just does simple stuff which is all g lol but this is so creative maybe its just cause im artsy haha] Anyway this is mixed in with an ask I got for a London Boy [Taylor Swift] type ask x Jason <3 <3 <3

There's still a trace of body paint--- Jason x Body paint artist!reader [London Boy-Taylor Swift]

»»————-　★　————-««

Jason tried not to laugh.

It was so hard though, because holy Hades the paintbrush was so cold and it was tickling his sides and he began chewing on his lip to stop himself from squirming away.

He sat as still as he could, which wasn’t hard, one thing Camp Jupiter got right was the whole soldier thing, and Jason could stand still for hours at a time without moving if he had to. And this way he was sitting on a cushioned stool watching your expression shift when you thought no one was watching you, or eating MnM’s, listening to whatever pop song came over the little radio by the open window. 

The smell of strawberries wafted through with the warm summer air from the fields a few cabins over, and it made him hungry, but he wasn’t about to get up and ruin the carefully designed strokes all down his back and over his shoulders.

He didn’t even get to know what it was until the end, apparently, which was so mean of you, but then you’d stick your tongue out while you worked a little bit in concentration and he forgave you. 

You looked up and made eye contact too quickly for Jason to play it off, and you took the tiny brush off his shoulder slowly, “what?”

“Nothing,” Jason said quickly, chewing the inside of his lip to stop his grin this time, and turned to the rest of the cabin. There was one set of bunks, but the rest of the beds were all retro hammocks hung between messy easels and tapestries and a few statues in progress. 

There was a mini fridge with a salt lamp on top, and every windowsill had little trays of incense next to the mugs filled with paint brushes or lemonade. His view was skewed when you spun the stool around a little and took another brush from the table, this time with an inky dark blue. 

Jason looked up at the roof to move his hair when the cold began to dot lightly where his neck met his shoulder. There was a big circle cut out of the white stone ceiling, replaced with glass that let the light in like a halo. It fit the whole scene though, you looked like an angel, even with the bit of melted MnM on your cheek.

“Hey,” he started, noticing the polaroid’s stuck to the wall around the mustard colored hammock belonging to you. “Can I ask..” 

“Hm?” You asked, getting a sponge and dabbing at the scars shredding up the right of Jason’s lower back. 

He wasn’t sure what your answer to the question would be, and if it was something bad, he didn’t want to make you upset, but he was curious. “How did you… how did you get here? When were you claimed?”

“Well, it wasn’t as dramatic as falling out of a burning chariot into the lake,” you muttered, wiping yellow paint from your hands onto your forehead without noticing. “My mum booked a flight to New York when I was ten, and then drove me to the borders of Camp.”

Jason looked down at his shoes, “your mortal mum?...She just left you?” 

You shook your head quickly, “oh, no, it wasn’t like that. She told me I was a demigod when I was six. Didn’t want to keep secrets. Said she went out with a lady at Glastonbury that dropped me off a few months later with a bunch of flowers.”

“I lasted a lot longer than the flowers,” you chuckled quietly, “I knew I was coming here for ages, and I knew I was a son of Iris. We didn’t get a lot of monsters in England, I’ve been attacked more by going to Starbucks on the weekends here than living in Manchester for ten years.”

Jason didn’t like talking about his own mum, but the way you smiled talking about yours, he figured you didn’t mind. “Do you miss her?”

“A lot, but Iris messages aren’t exactly hard for me,” you said with a shrug, dipping the paintbrush into the little tub Jason was balancing on his thigh. “Besides, Iris pays for my mum to fly over every summer, cause she feels bad that she had a kid with someone so far away.”

“Really?”

You smiled again, and the little shiny crystals on your necklaces clicked against the beads, “she’s a pretty great mum, as far as godly parents go. She’s gonna pay for art school, as long as I show her everything I paint.”

Jason blinked. “Does that include me?”

“Surely you’ve met her, you’ve met all the gods, right?” You asked, eating an MnM and swishing the paintbrush around in a cup. Jason was pretty sure you’d just cleaned it with lemonade, but he didn’t say anything. 

He blinked, watching the colorful stained glass of your earrings catch in the light, “Yeah, but that was before…”

Before he’d found you with Racheal using the blank stone wall of his cabin as a space for her next mural. He didn’t really care if Zeus got annoyed, because you had pink paint on your cheeks and you were using a pegasus called Clover to put all of the paint tubs on and Racheal was saying something stupid and you were laughing with your nose all crinkled up and if Zeus got annoyed by that, Jason would take the smiting himself.

Before he’d somehow ended up in the same activities together after he told Piper about you [who could convince Annabeth to do anything for her somehow, even without her mothers tongue].

Before he’d offered to sit still for hours at a time so that you could build a portfolio of paintings on his scarred skin. He’d had to ask instead of agree, because you weren’t exactly the outgoing type. Neither was Jason, so you could sit together for hours with only the sound of the tens of wind chimes outside the cabin and paint tubes being used to their last drop.

Before Jason found himself more invested in the process of the painting then the outcome. 

He gulped, and mentally shook his head, “well, I hope the art school people don’t mind scars. You’d have to use someone else.”

“I don’t care if they do. I’d still paint you,” you said quietly, looking up from the dark blue sketchy strokes Jason could only just see without his glasses. Then you looked away, changing your paintbrush for the yellow one, “unless you didn’t want to.”

“I do.”

It was silent for a moment, and then you smiled, your lip piercing shining in the sun that streamed in, “okay.”

“I’m done,” you said a few minutes later, passing Jason the rest of the MnM’s once he could move without fear of ruining the paint. He watched as you pulled a mirror out from behind an easel depicting what looked like a robot bear with square teeth and red eyes. 

Jason stared at the blues and golds with wide eyes. He didn’t want to blink, he didn’t want to not see it. He didn’t know how to put it into words. “...Wow.” 

Wow didn’t seem like enough, but you grinned nonetheless with a shy shrug, “It’s a Van Gogh, well my version of it. Everyone likes Starry night, but I like Starry Night Over The Rhone a lot more, so…” 

»»————-　★　————-««

“Is that her?”

You rolled your eyes at the question, the only one Jason had been able to ask the past ten minutes as you both sat at a park bench outside the movies, an old one near the markets that just played grainy reruns in its shabby chic theater. “If you ask one more-”

“No I think that’s Iris,” he whispered with wide eyes, “she’s staring at me.”

About to explain that the old lady with a basket of kittens and a black lace umbrella [it was sunny. She was probably a vampire] was not your mother, you turned to see the woman who was actually your mother, in her bell bottoms and matching top, hoop earrings made of tiny dreamcatchers casting colorful light everywhere. 

You grabbed his wrist, and pulled him along into her cloud of floral perfume that hurt your nose when she brought you into a bearhug. “Hi mum.”

“Darling!” She shrieked, kissing your cheeks and holding your shoulders and she shook them violently, then snuck another hug while you were making sure your head was still attached to your shoulders, “oh, how I’ve missed you!” 

“Missed you to mum,” you said, pulling away with a smile, and turned to Jason, who had the same expression big dogs get when they’re picked up. “Um, mum… this is Jason.”

“Yes, yes! I’ve heard all about you!”

“...He’s my boyfriend.” 

»»————-　★　————-««

[quigonswife8]

Memories: Namor x reader

While you sit with K’uk’ulkan, he looks at the mural, reminiscing of years gone by, of the memories he’s reminded of.

Thank ya'll for all the love on my namor works, it means a lot:)

Also I used the gif above cause even though he’s not painting in this, it still does talk about the mural. Btw I love the mural, he’s so talented

gif creds: @itaintenough

----

"You're cold.". Namor points out as he notes how much you're shivering.

"I-i’m sorry K’uk’ulkan but i'm still not used to this environment."

You rub your arms to try and regain warmth but this attempt turns out feeble.

As a 'surface dweller' you never do get used to visiting K’uk’ulkan’s kingdom. He'd offered you to live there but when he'd seen how much your world meant to you he had agreed to date 'long distance.'

Though with every visit [which is practically everyday] you never get used to the difference of temperature. The water isn't even cold, it's the temperate of the room.

"You don't need to apologise my love."

He stands up and turns, "...I will get you something warm."

Slipping away for a moment to grab the softest blanket. He always keeps it aside for you. He drapes it around your shoulders, sitting back down next to you.

"Better...?"

You glance at him,

"Much better."

He nods, before looking away from you to admire the mural he’d just added onto.

After coming to an agreement with Wakanda everything returned to normal. K’uk’ulkan had gotten started on adding to the mural: a panther fighting someone-Him. and the panther being the queen.

He is a very talented artist. You still wear the bracelet he had hand-made for you years ago, as a symbol of his love. It's like he's with you whenever you're apart.

"It's beautiful my love."

Pulling the blanket more over your shoulders, while scootching closer to K’uk’ulkan.

"Thank you."

He brings a hand up to rest on his knee, his eyes still on the mural. It brings him to think-reminisce of years gone.

The times when things seemed to be just. When he had offered his heart to you and you'd done the same. When all he thought about was ruling his kingdom with you beside him.

When they didn't have to deal with the people trying to mine the vibranium, threatening his people. Looking at this mural reminds him of peace because that's what it is. A peace decided on between his people and the Wakandan's. Something that he has wanted for so long.

That is all he has wanted, and this mural is a representation of that. To some it may not be obvious but to those who know who understand it is obvious.

You look at K’uk’ulkan, wondering what's going on in his mind. The look on his face means he's deep in thought which he often falls into when he has these moments of peace. Not wanting to ruin his peace you simply copy what he's doing by staring at the mural.

It has always fascinated you. When he had brought you to Talokan for the first time it was the mural that caught your eye first. Though back then it didn't include the black panther. Namor had noticed your interest in the mural and began to explain what it had meant.

It became that more fascinating when you'd found out he'd painted this mural himself. The love he held shows in the mural, as well as his skills with a paintbrush.

K’uk’ulkan stands in front of the mural, his hands together behind his back.

"You're very skilled..."

You run your hand along the different lines, different shapes on the wall. "...this is amazing."

It's your first time in K’uk’ulkan’s kingdom. You'd heard stories of a 'feathered serpeant god' but never thought you would ever meet let alone date him. Now as you stand in one of the many rooms in his kingdom it doesn't seem real because you have only dreamt of visiting a place like this.

"Thank you."

He can't help but smile slightly seeing you enjoying his culture, appreicating this mural.

It's nice to know all surface dwellers are not bad which is more often than not. He knew there was something about you the moment you met, he could just tell. That you didn't cower in fear or try and hurt him, you had looked at him with such kindness that he hasn't experienced in so long.

"I'm happy you like it."

"(y/n)?"

"Hmm?" flicking your eyes back to K’uk’ulkanyou catch how he looks at you. A softness in his eyes, a slight smile on his lips. This alone makes you smile.

"Yeah?"

The light reflects in your eyes, making them look that more beautiful. It's captivating- you captivate him.

"I..."

The door suddenly opens, and Namora walks in. She looks your way, and then back to her king.

in her language she says: "can I talk to you, it's important."

K’uk’ulkan nods in reply, and so she leaves to wait outside for him. When his cousin is gone he turns back to you.

"I have to go my love.."

"It's okay..." you lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek. "...i'll see you when you get back."

He adjusts the blanket on you more noticing it had fallen off your shoulders. Lingering with his touch he presses a kiss to your head and then stands.

When he does leave you watch him, pulling your eyes after lingering with your look, and they soon fall back on the mural.

[saintsir4n]

Could you do one where Brian knew he fell in love with Carson 💙💙

FALLIN’, DREAMIN’

__

IT was a gradual feeling. That was for sure. Between the kisses and touches, and whispers of sweet nothings, that’s where the feelings truly blossomed.

The first time Brian saw Carson was like a vivid dream — a fantasy he never knew he could have or even desire. The more he stared at her, the more he believed pink could become his favourite colour. Her smile was enough to make his heart flutter and her voice made her hang onto every word. And when he saw the car she drove he damn near stopped breathing.

Carson beating him was something he didn’t know could happen, let alone in a race he thought would be primarily against Dom. He was elated and turned on when she crossed the line seconds before Dom and him in his steaming car.

Next came their first dance, shortly after she defended him to the team. It was to a Tyrese song and she was shocked at how well he could handle her. Her curves glided perfectly in his hands which were caressed with care. Their hearts beat as one to the melody they were lost in.

Jealousy had always been a thing for Brian. He knew what he had with Carson was real even if his initial intentions weren’t. Johnny Tran wasn’t a threat but made sure the police bust made on his mansion was done by him especially. And there was Vince, who never hesitated to comment on their relationship, or him, damn near almost ruining his chances with Carson at every turn. But Brian always took pleasure in wiping his grin off his face.

And although lust and adoration drew him to Carson.

He was sure that love bound him to her.

It was uncontrollable and he accepted it the second he knew it was true.

He never questioned it even though it went against every principle of his job.

But Carson was worth every second he spent anxious that any moment his cover could be blown and the operation would be busted. She was worth more than his job, or even the freedom he risked just by getting more and more close to her.

Carson Baker was his love and he was hers — he was certain of it.

Feeling Brian’s intense gaze on her, Carson looked up from the paintbrush she held and turned toward him. He sat, arms crossed in the busy garage seemingly lost in his thoughts.

“What are you smilin’ at lover boy?” She teased, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks.

Brian blinked quickly before he innocently shrugged, “Nothin’”

“Well since you’re lyin’, come and help me with this paint job.” She waved the paintbrush around without letting the contents drip onto her overalls.

“No please?” He rose a questioning brow as he got up, and strode over.

She stood up also, allowing a grin to break through her face when he towered over her.

Carson cheekily retorted, “If it was a question I would’ve said it.”

“Damn, now I know why you get called a brat,” Brian said, tutting and shaking his head at her.

“Only now?” She cocked her head to the side.

“Nah, but I don’t care, give me the brush Sonny.”

As she let the paintbrush drop into his hand, his lips grazed hers, causing her eyes to briefly flutter shut. It was a slow kiss at first, but gradually with every second, he poured more into it. It felt more than any of kiss they’d shared. More personal, more passionate, more…love?

Carson couldn’t be sure, but she wouldn’t say it, not now.

“What was that for?” She asked, with a small gasp once he pulled away, sporting a boyish smile.

Brian simply replied, “Just wanted to.”

She giggled, “Well give me another one.”

Preparing to do just that, they heard a voice call out behind them.

“Don’t give her another one!”

It was Jesse, who pretended to gag at the sight.

Carson groaned, “Shut up Jesse!”

——

hope you enjoy!

[bullet-prooflove]

Stockton!Series Part Eight: Canvas - Nestor Oceteva x Reader

Tagging: @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @anime-weeb-4-life @danzer8705 @drabbles-mc @alwaysachorusgirl @witches-unruly-heart @mysoulisasunflower @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @est1887 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @thanossexual @lexondeck @weiwei0210 @trublu2u @justreblogginfics @oklahomapeach @keyweegirliee @dakotapaigelove @wnbweasley @jadesamhart @sisinever @skyesthebomb @msjava1972 @fleureeee @jp1019 @thiashazzywriting @fanfic-n-tabulous @ravennaortiz @just-a-throw-away

Stockton!Series:

Part One: El Cuchillo - An incident in the clubhouse causes ramifcations for the entire club.

Part Two: Always - Nestor learns about what happened.

Part Three: In the Dark - You and Nestor wake up to find armed men in your house.

Part Four: Sierra - Marcus takes care of the men who tried to kill you.

Part Five: Maternal - Nestor and you take refuge at a familiar location.

Part Six: Times Are Changing - Marcus and Bishop discuss moving forward with the club.

Part Seven: Graveside (feat: Marcus Alvarez) - You and Marcus discuss your mother at her graveside.

It’s late when you come back home to the house that you and Nestor share. The electricity is still off from where they’d cut the power during the break in, but Nestor has illuminated the rooms with the battery powered Moroccan lamps you use for mood lighting. It’s a pretty, welcoming glow.

You find him sitting on the floor of his art studio, the stench of gasoline is barely noticeable unlike the ruined floorboards from where the cohesive material had eaten its way through the varnish. His unruly curls hang loose around his shoulders as he sits in front of a canvas, spreading paint across it with one of the thicker brushes. He’s clad in a loose vest and grey basketball shorts., the light from the Moroccan lamps casting a warm glow across his skin.

He's absorbed in the task, his brushwork methodical. Painting is where he goes to hide away from the world, to make sense of it. Everything that’s happened over the past few days it’s too raw, too much. Now that things have settled you have to process what happened, deal with it.

“Gilly’s gonna come by tomorrow, give us a quote for the shit that needs fixing.” Nestor tells you, his gaze still fixated on the canvas as he swirls the paintbrush. “Bottles and EZ helped clear out the stuff that can’t be repaired. We’re gonna need a new bed and couch and our books are ruined…”

You reach out across the space between you, your hand coming to rest upon his forearm, thumb gently smoothing over his skin.

“Nes.” You say softly. “I’m sorry about what happened to your paintings.”

Out of everything that was destroyed you know that is the one that hurts. They’re things that you can never get back. his creativity, his brilliance they shine through in all the work he does, he leaves a piece of himself in every painting.

“They’re just things…” He says with a sigh, raking his hand through his hair.

“It still matters.” You tell him and he looks up at you.

You can see the pain in his eyes, the anguish because those paintings, they meant the world to him. He sets the paintbrush down before he studies the artwork in front of him, the one he’d been working on before your home had been invaded. It had been beautiful once, darkness and light contrasting against each other. The night sky and the stars, the desert landscape. Now the paint runs down it in rivets, the chemicals from the gasoline burning into the canvas, eroding it.

“I was working on something for your birthday.” He tells you, his gaze lowering back to the canvas in front of him. “They fucked it up, they came into our home…”

He trails off, the line of his jaw clenching.

“I keep thinking about what would have happened if we hadn’t woken up that night.” He says quietly, his chin coming to rest upon his knee. “If I’d been on that run up to Denver, the way that I was supposed to be. You would have been here alone…”

He’d been about to embark on a security run for Rose Kush when he’d gotten the call from Bishop. It would have been a three-day job. Coco had taken it instead after he’d heard what happened to you with Ramos. You shift until you end up kneeling beside him. You wrap your arms around him, drawing him close, your lips brush over his hairline as he buries his face into the curve of your throat.

“I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost you.” He whispers against your skin. “It came too close this time Mi Corizon, it was far too close.”

Love Nestor? Get added to his tag list!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[doiefics]

no regrets

pairing: jihoon x gn!reader

prologue: when you finally open up your heart, jihoon has a logic. perhaps things can be made better at a ghosted book store.

genre: fluff + friends to lovers

wordcount: 897

warnings: slight age difference even though both are adults

"No! That's mine!" You whined at the older male as he teased you by threatening to devour the chocolate bar in his hands.

"Maybe it was." He commented, emphasising on the past tense.

"If you don't give it to me I won't think twice before ruining your white shirt with this weird mix of yellow, blue and green paint. It's acrylic." You warned him with an evil smirk.

"Will you?" He teased you again.

You inched your paintbrush's tip dangerously close to his clothing, and Jihoon's eyebrows started to furrow in response.

"There you go, all right." He gave in right away.

He offered you a bite since your hands were preoccupied with the colours in front of you.

"Don't drop it, they are gonna charge you for the amends." He warned you in a whisper. Perhaps painting at a bookstore was a bad idea.

"Nobody is listening, there's no one here." You spoke casually.

The atmosphere was filled with the smell of old paper and wood emanating from the dozen shelves that were arranged all around you. Jihoon leaned against one of them, using it to support his back while you sat next to him. The owner of the place wouldn't mind you two being there when no one else was here either, you were never the type to draw on books.

You had known Jihoon ever since you were a toddler, he was your neighbour's son. Even though he was four years older than you, you both enjoyed great chemistry.

The differences in preferences, from conversation topics to lifestyle choices, were noticeable in the younger years but given the present time they were more or less similar, you both were now adults, after all. 

Jihoon's attention from his book was diverted at the sight of you struggling to keep your hair in place. 

"Did you shampoo your hair today?" He mocked again but his laughter was quickly brought to an end as you raised the brush again.

"Which book are you reading?" You leaned your head to the side to have a better look as you peered into the pages.

"Something your dumb brain wouldn't understand." He spoke, without lifting his eyes from the words that were tying down all his interest.

"Tskk!" You voiced as your hair flicks slid through and in front of your eyes, again, caused by the motion of the head

Jihoon closed his book, tipped his body in your direction, and reached out to tuck your hair back in place.

His face was close, albeit not too close or too far away, giving you a view of his face. In a snap of a moment, you felt different, even though on the inside you knew you had been suppressing what you felt for him.

Ever since you came of age, Jihoon seemed more than just a friend. 

As he fixed your hair, you poked the heart-shaped mole on his cheek. He made eye contact with you and grinned in response to your action.

Maybe this was the right time.

You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his soft, pink ones. It was only a peck. The two of you paused for a brief second, not moving. You softly slammed your lips to his again, this time the contact lasted longer, the lips started to move in sync with each other, eyes closed and an odd surge of hormones was coursing through your body.

Jihoon abruptly pulled back as he shook his head. "No!" He breathed, his eyes never meeting yours. "This is not right, Y/N. You’re younger than me." He reasoned. 

"I'm an adult. I know what I am doing." You protested back.

"I'm four years older than you!" His voice held emotions.

You backed off, showing him a subtle yet apologetic smile. "If you think that's right."

Jihoon was buried in thought, so he remained silent for the next few minutes, increasing your tension. Would this act end all of your past dynamics? For some reason, however, your gut held no regrets. 

The hands of the clock moved to indicate the passing of more time. Silence still prevailed, and you joined Jihoon in staring into a blank space.

"What are you thinking about?" You asked.

"About us." He said.

"Huh?" You gained back your focus.

"This is so wrong." He repeated. 

"I'm sorry. let's just forget it happened-"

He cut you off. "I can't convince my heart." He confessed.

"I like you Y/N, but I can't help but think of how wrong it would be."

"Why would it be wrong?" You questioned again, proceeding to give him a reason by yourself. "We are both adults, and what's wrong with loving each other? It's not a crime." You explained.

"The age difference. What if you regret being with me after some years?" Jihoon was very emotional yet serious about this.

"Then I'll have to call you grandpa for the rest of our lives." You said playfully, taking his hand in yours. 

"No regrets." You promised.

"No regrets." He repeated as he opened his arms, and heart for you.

You wasted no time in falling into his embrace, without taking notice of one thing. The paint.

"This was my favourite shirt!" He whined, again. 

"Oops." You pouted.

Jihoon took the brush away from your hand, using it to make a heart shape on your cheek, making you both blush like idiots.

masterlist please refrain from plagiarising, translating or posting outside of this platform

[soap143]

hiiiiii I was wondering if you would want to write about lee! hyunjin? maybe something similar the chan story but hyunjin has to paint while tickled or there's a belt that's ticklish which he has to wear while dancing??

if you don't want to you don't have to write it :)))

thank youuuu

AAAAH I love this idea! I hope you won’t mind that I wrote this for the “Eye for an eye” series. I just think this concept really fits in here. Happy reading! (just a quick lil reminder that you should read Challenge before or after this fic)

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Eye for an eye

pt. 2

lee!hyunjin

ler!chan

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Ever since Chan had gotten revenge on the first kid, the rest had been avoiding him in fear of being mercilessly wrecked. Minho, being the amazing lee he was, ratted out the leader’s plan immediately, causing everyone to never let their guard down.

However, this evening he was completely alone with Hyunjin in the dorm. Changbin and Han convinced Chan to stay home while they finish up all the work. The oldest smirked, plotting his sweet revenge…

He thought that Hyunjin was scrolling on social media or wasting his precious free evening doing something useless, but was pleasantly surprised to see the exact opposite “Woah, you’re… painting? Should I-” the kangaroo’s sentence was cut short as Jinnie groaned, throwing his head back in annoyance “Can you please leave? I’m really focused on finishing this painting. I’ll post it on instagram later for STAY to see.”

“God forbid me from disturbing you, my prince! Don’t you remember what you and the kids did to me last week? I thought Lee Know had told you.” Chan mocked, inching closer to his future victim.

“Haha, very funny. You can’t tickle me now. The paint. It’s gonna get everywhere. You’re gonna ruin my painting. I’ll die.” Hyunjin brainstormed ramdom ideas to get his hyung away from his ticklish self.

The aussie nonchalantly grabbed an empty canvas and a chair, walking towards the ferret. He placed the chair behind the painter and the canvas in front, replacing the unfinished painting with it.

“I think STAY would love to see how to paint a simple auto portrait… While being tickled.” the shorter stated, wrapping his fingers around Jinnie’s sides, not doing anything yet.

Hyunjin gulped, dipping his dirty paintbrush into a cup, filled with water. Then, he patted it dry onto a piece of paper. Lastly, he proceeded to grab quite a generous amount of paint onto his brush.

For STAY…

He started slowly with his face. It was just a simple little sketch, nothing too important anyway, so he didn’t really care about proportions. He was about to get tickled, so it would surely get ruined anyway.

As he was finishing up his chin and starting on the jaw, he felt a quick jab on his side, causing him to jerk the opposite way “Yah! Thankfully, the brush wasn’t on the canvas… I almost ruined it because of you!” Hyunjin whined.

The person responsable for the tall boy’s screams just snickered, poking him once again.The artists tried to protect his sensitive torso with one hand and paint with the other.

As Jinnie hurriedly drew the ears, Chan properly dug into the vulnerable spot, making Hyunjin flinch harshly “CHAN! Now you’ve ruined it! Do you see this big, dark line? That’s your fault!” the ferret dramatically gasped, repeatedly pointing at the horrible mistake.

“Excuse me? Chan? It’s hyung to you!” the shorter pointed out, shoving his wiggly fingers under the younger’s arms “YAHAHAHAHA STOHOHOHOHOP! IHIHI MUHUHUHUHUHST FIHIHIHIHIHINISH THIHIHIHIHS HAHAHAHA!” the tallest member in Stray Kids yelped, twisting side to side.

To his disadvantage, the aussie wasn’t in the mood to show any mercy “Remeber how you tickled me without letting me sing those beutiful lyrics out? I was dying, yet none of you stopped for even a minute to let me push those words out. Have a taste of your own medicine, Jinnie. Eye for an eye…” Chan ranted, drilling in between the long haired boy’s ribs.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEHEASE, IHIHIHIHI REHEHEHEHEALY HAHAHAHAVE TOHOHOHOHO- NOHOHOHOHO!” the talented painter tried to squeak his sentence out, only to be cut off by his own crazy cackles “Get to drawing, I really wanna see that beutiful result of your talent~” the kangaroo teased, mocking the way Hyunjin and kids tormented him.

The ferret quickly grabbed the paintbrush, splashing some abstract stains of paint, trying to resemble his hair “Wow, are those your beutiful locks of hair?” the older teasingly questioned the colourful puddles.

“IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHHAHAN’T- UGH! STOHOHOHOHOP, YOUHUHUH’RE ANOHOHOHOHOHYING!” the dancer tried to argue with the older, but was far too ticklish for that “Where are those beutiful eyes of yours? And your neck? I think you should draw yourself wearing a beutiful polo-shirt.” Chan suggested, squeezing his lee’s lower back.

Hyunjin went bonkers when the chosen spot was mercilessly attacked. In fact, he even got some paint on his face.

In a desperate act, he snatched his painting tool and smuthered his not-so-empty canvas in random strokes. Most of them were unsuccessful, landing nowhere near the face. He tried once more, this time making them look somewhat close to a nose, eye and a singular eyebrow.

“You’re doing great! Just finish up the other half of the face and you’ll be done!” Channie commented, grabbing the top of the dancer’s thighs and pushing his fingers rapidly in and out of the flesh. The worst part: one hand was being so painfully gentle and the other seemed to be melting into the ticklish skin with its aggressiveness.

“OHOHOHOHOHOHOHOK O-OHOHOK IHIHIHIHIHI’M DO-DOHOHOHOHONE!” the younger announced “Nu-uh. The head, it’s floating. You better add a neck before it falls to the ground!”

The painting in question was full of uneven lines, some of them not even properly connecting. Hyunjin’s supposed face was half empty. Not to mention that it was covered in zig-zaggy strokes, most of which went over the line that separated the visage from the backround. The backround in question was covered with those exact same abstract, uneven strokes, lines and stains of paint.

Both of the boys stopped to admire their work. It seemed so… Modern “Look at what we’ve created…” Chan dramatically sighed in admiration “Excuse me? Who’s we? This is all my job!” Hyunjin tried to protest, only to be lowered back down by a few pokes to the side.

“STAY is gonna love this!” the aussie exclaimed, suddenly taking out his phone and stopping the video recording “YOU FILMED THAT?!” the artist roared “You filmed me! And posted it. This is called revenge!” the leader snickered, running away to hide into the safety of his room, before the taller boy could catch up.

That very same evening, Hyunjin’s instagram account was updated with two posts. One with the original painting he was working on, and the other painting: which his oldest hyung helped him make…

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Hope you enjoyed! Do you guys like this series and concept? Me personally, I love these shorter fics. Can’t wait to write more. Have a good day/night!❤️🙂

[thirteens-lucky-tardis]

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄 - 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐓 𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐗 𝐎𝐂

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎

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As the sun chose to grace the land in the morning, the welcoming beams of light fell in Ember's room. The new addition of luminescence caused the young dragon to stir gently before waking up. She blinked the sleep from her eyes and took a deep breath. Today was the day. She was terrified, no doubt, but there was an unwelcome sense of ease about the whole thing. Why was she feeling so calm? This was supposed to be nerve-wracking...

In the corner of her room hung a simple white dress - an empty canvas with which to create her world upon. It was ceremonial to wear white for The Selection, as with most other ceremonies you might know of. The door to her room opened, and in stepped her mother with a flower crown in her hands, decorated in white lotus flowers and smiled.

"Good morning, my dear. Are you ready for today?" asked her mother, properly named Cyra, crossing the room to Ember's bed and set the flower crown on the blanket.

"I'm a bit nervous..." replied Ember, hugging her legs to her chest.

"Oh, my dearest Ember, there is no need to be nervous. Just... imagine it as a party. A party with all of your friends who are there to support you and who love you..." Cyra said softly, placing a comforting kiss on her daughter's forehead. "Now come along, Ember. Let's get you dressed."

Cyra held out a hand and helped Ember off of the bed and led her over to the dress, pointing out small details in the fabric. For example, there were small stitches of some of her favorite things along the bottom of the skirt in white thread, of course. Crystals, stars, flowers, paintbrushes... everything Ember loved sat embroidered in the cloth. On the back of the dress was a small train of an iridescent fabric that flowed from the shoulders. The stitching around the edges made it look like dragon wings. Two pieces of elastic sat on the ends of the sheer cloth that she could attach to her fingers.

"Oh, Mama, it's beautiful!" Ember gasped in awe as she ran her fingers over the embroidered artistry that adorned the dress. Ember was very, very excited for this dress alone.

Cyra smiled brightly at her daughter's awestruck look and pat the young girl on the shoulder. "Go take a shower, and then you can put it on, alright?"

Ember happily ran into the bathroom to take a shower, and once she was finished, she practically skipped out in a fuzzy robe, and Cyra continued talking. "Would you like my help putting the dress on, or would you like to do it yourself? I will respect your privacy if you want it."

"Can you help me...? I don't want to ruin it..." Ember admitted. Cyra nodded and carefully took the dress off the hanger. Ember took off the robe and quickly slipped into the dress. Her mother was careful not to touch anywhere that could be deemed inappropriate in order to respect Ember's boundaries. The zipper was soon zipped up, and the small pieces of elastic hung around Ember's fingers, making it look like the flowy material was actually her own pair of wings.

"I love it!" Ember exclaimed as Cyra began to style Ember's white hair into a simple yet elegant braid and finally placed the crown of lotus flowers onto her head.

Cyra smiled warmly. "There we go, Ember. You look beautiful."

Ember giggled and spun around before playfully bowing. "Thank you, Mama!"

"You're welcome, dear. Now, shall we go? Your father is already there since he had to help set up!"

"I'm ready!" Ember smiled herself and grabbed her mother's hand as they left their house.

The location of The Selection was a rather elegant location. It was hosted in a large arena that could hold hundreds, maybe even thousands of people. The empty area in the middle was where many events occurred, and currently, there were several tables set up, awaiting Ember's arrival. One might compare this arena to that of Earth's infamous Colosseum. At this time, the arena was already almost packed, and the chatter was deafening. Within moments, an announcer's voice sounded through a sound system, announcing Ember's arrival.

Taking a few deep breaths, Ember walked into the arena, and the crowd cheered loudly, which caused Ember to wince and cover her ears. Within moments, the people were silenced. A tall woman stood in the center of the area, in the middle of the circle of tables. Her hair was an ashy black, and her eyes a bright orange. She stood in a regal way with her head held high. Her features were sharp and gaze heavy from all that she had seen. This was Cigri, no doubt.

"Ember. You come before me to participate in The Selection, yes?" Cigri said, loud enough for everyone to hear. Her voice was smooth and calming in a way.

"Yes, I do." Ember replied, repeating exactly what she had been told. She glanced around at each and every table and saw that every one had something upon it, hidden under a fiery red cloth.

"Then I, Cigri of the Elders, invite you to find your clan." With a wave of Cigri's hand, the pieces of cloth on each table burned into ash, at which the crowd gasped. Ember looked around at the crowd and saw Rhaelrivera smiling down at her and nodding. Ember took another deep breath and looked at the tables. Each one had a dragon upon it - some a solid object, others simply manipulated into shape. For example, the earth dragon was simply carved from stone and covered in moss and small flowers, while the air dragon was simply a floating cloud in the shape of said dragon.

Ember walked around, looking at each of the tables. None of them spoke to her... in truth, she could pick any of them, but she would do well with the dragon that called to her. She looked at the fire dragon that hovered above the table. She debated choosing it to make her family proud, but... she didn't feel anything around it, so she continued. It wasn't until she got around to a figurine made of pure glass did she feel something... a sort of pull towards the small glass dragon, like a magnet. Her eyes fixated on it, and without thinking, she grabbed the figurine off the table.

A mere second later, a tingling sensation filled her body, which caused her to giggle. As she held up her hand, she noticed a white glow around her fingers. The crowd cheered as they watched Ember, yet - like before - the crowd was silenced when Cigri stepped forward.

"Ember has been selected to join the Glass Clan!" vocalized Cigri. As if on cue, every glass dragon in the audience cheered. Ember couldn't help but smile, realizing that she had found her place.

***

After the ceremony, a glass dragon named Agate led Ember to a back room that held a rather large mirror in it. Agate was a rather short, slightly curvy woman with a bright smile and a brighter personality. Her hair was a pale yellow, and her eyes lavender in color.

"Okie dokie, little Ember! This is the fun part!" Agate smiled and clapped her hands.

Ember looked at her, confused. "What's happening?"

"Oh, little dragon, here is where you get to pick how you look! We're some of the special ones. You see, glass can be stained to be any color in the universe, so thus, we as glass dragons can choose whatever color we want to use for ourselves! I change my hair nearly every week," Agate explained. She had a tendency to ramble, but Ember didn't mind.

"How does it work?" asked Ember.

Agate smiled again. "It's simple, really. Just think really, really hard about one of your features, and it will change!"

Ember turned to look in the mirror and focused on her eyes. She thought of a deep red, and soon, the iris of her eyes changed to red. She made a look of disgust and focused again. Blue? Maybe... Orange? No. Brown? No. Black looked too menacing for her... Ember was starting to lose courage when she perked up and focused one last time on her eyes. They changed to a vibrant green, and Ember smiled. That was perfect.

"Ooo, I'm digging the green!" Agate exclaimed as she watched. Ember smiled and turned back to the mirror. Now it was time for her hair... what color looks good with green? She thought for a moment before her hair changed to a pale blue. The color wasn't as vibrant as the sky but could be compared to the of a very light cornflower. Ember hopped up and down slightly and grinned. She loved how the bright green felt with the blue hair. She pushed her newly colored locks behind her pointed ears and squealed softly.

"How do I look?" Ember asked with bright, hopeful eyes.

Agate beamed and clapped. "I love that combination! You look so pretty!" Ember looked back at herself in the mirror, and for once, she genuinely liked who she was seeing...

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Also published on Wattpad: To Be Free by embers_dragon_

Tags:

@rxin3akamallory @pretty-chips @glow-autumz @evolvingchaoswitch @raccoonfallsharder @criticalcrit @thejudgyboiao3 @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr @caesarhamato22