#wall art size guide

[hellishjoel]

cherry thrill | lights

9.2k / pairing: daddy dom tattoo artist!joel miller x sub virgin f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | notifications blog | ko-fi chapter summary: your tattoo artist, joel miller, takes your virginity. chapter warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, implied age gap, swearing, virginity loss, dom&sub dynamics (/not lg), size kink, praise kink, degradation kink, daddy kink, innocence kink, corruption kink, swearing, dirty talk, pet names (princess, bunny, baby girl, sweetheart, etc.), oral (m&f receiving), fingering, protected p in v, joel talks you through it, protective!joel, slight pov switching, reader is described as having no tattoos or piercings, as well as hair, but otherwise no physical description, no use of y/n series summary: Trust and devotion. Ink meets innocence. Your tattoo artist, Joel Miller, shows you what it really means to give up control. Reeling from the loss of your job, you’re running out of options, until a passing comment from Joel and a video camera give you just the right idea. A/N: this was supposed to be a one shot but just like everything else I try to write, I expand on the characters too much for it not to become a series. also, thank you for 2,000 followers, I promise to do something soon to show my appreciation <3 I'm bad at giving thanks and receiving attention so anyway - dividers by @firefly-graphics (thank you, daisy!)

During your first consultation, there was something in the air. 

Glances that lasted a few seconds too long, a charged energy replicating that of two strong magnets.  You stand frozen in a dark office down the hall from the shop’s main entrance. The walls are painted black. A gallery wall displays different art and posters in gold frames. There’s a large red neon sign with your tattoo artist’s initials, J.M. 

Joel Miller. 

You sit opposite of him, leg anxiously bouncing and nails subconsciously piercing the chair’s leather arms as he listens silently to your request before his mind starts to work. It doesn’t take much time to draw up an example or two with your guided tweaks and fixes. 

Other than the scribble of a graphite pencil, silence falls over you both. And observation takes over. 

Joel surrounds himself with scattered drawings on loose paper that litter his desk. You watch the way his eyes screw inward to focus on the sketch he is drawing up. A small vein protrudes from his temple, his jaw shifts from side to side with tension. 

He’s a blunt sort of handsome. With harsh edges and lines, jaded and carved with precision like precious marble. It makes your pulse jump a bit in your neck and wrist. 

You think your first tattoo should be something special, especially since you’ve waited so long to pull the trigger. He was a bit intimidating like you imagined a tattoo artist to be, what with his brooding demeanor and how he looked you up and down upon taking one step inside his parlor. 

Virgin. 

That’s what he called your skin, untouched by any ink or piercings. 

He didn’t know that it described you down to your core. No one had popped your cherry, taken your virginity, made you theirs. Untouched.

Now, half an hour later and sitting anxiously in his back office, he finishes drawing up the sketch and asks about the precise placement you had in mind. 

“I was thinking here,” you mindlessly point to a spot on your upper thigh. There was a level of secrecy to it, in case any future employers cared about that sort of shit. 

You can’t help the way your skin vibrates under his touch, when he aids you in taking off your bottoms and runs his calloused palms up the smooth skin of your thighs. 

You shakily exhale as he warms you. 

You definitely don’t let yourself fantasize that he’s feeling you up, or even think about wanting him to explore every inch of your body. You know he’s just doing his job. 

But the way his eyes flick up to yours when he feels the goosebumps he knows he’s created is otherworldly. Like he knows you want him to fuck you. The way your muscles twitch under the warmth of his palm, feeling pliant under his touch. Fuck. 

His eyes gleam as his mouth forms into a barely-there smirk. 

There was no point in playing coy. Your body changed at the contact and Joel knew it. 

It was damn near degrading the way he let you simmer. It set a light inside of you no one had before. So that’s when you knew you’d let him, Joel Miller, take your virginity. 

It would be no easy task. You didn’t know how to pursue him, or anyone for that matter. Maybe if you did, you wouldn’t have said virginity. 

You try not to stare for too long, but even with his gruff demeanor and silence being second nature to him, he was handsome. A rugged sort of handsome with different facial piercings. 

A septum in his nose highlighted its aquiline structure. And a small hoop in his right eyebrow, with greys tickling through like pretty streaks in the hair. It made him look deliciously too old for you. Perhaps that’s what you enjoyed most, though. He was no amateur. 

The moment his fingers dipped into your flesh to work on your tattoo's placement, you knew he felt it, too. Supple under his touch. Squishy. Something he could sink his teeth into. Something that obeyed. 

“You prepared for the pain, sweetheart?”

His southern drawl is sweet like honey, deep and husky nonetheless. 

“I think so.” 

Your response is meek. It’s your wavering nerves from having him so close and unsure what the feeling of being tattooed will be like. Joel looks for certainty instead. He insists on it. 

“Need ya t’tell me. Not that you think, that you know.”

“I’m sorry. I know so.”

Joel squeezes the back of your thigh fondly, a proud little smile twitching at the edges of his mouth. “Good girl.”

The praise alone was enough to make your thighs sticky with arousal. Joel sent you home that day with an ache between your legs that your fingers had to fix. And you thought about him the entire time. 

How his cold tongue piercing would feel against the warmth of your clit. Holding you with his strong, protective arms swirled with black ink. How his staggering dark eyes would look into yours as he fucks you. 

But thinking about him wasn’t enough. 

You tried to string out the process, anything you could do to fix more time with him. Anything to get his tough palms on your skin. 

You fiddled with different placements, opting to show a little skin as you rid yourself of your top and pointed to your ribs during your next appointment. 

A breath hitches in your throat as he eyes your bra's innocent pink color. Lacy and pretty. Delicate. He clears his throat and runs his fingers along your side, evidence of his touch causing an effect on you displayed with more goosebumps. Your body could simply not hide the attraction you felt towards him. 

“Would hurt. A lot. The ribs move every time you breathe, which makes the tattooing process more painful.” Joel gently cups your side with his large palm and squeezes your ribs, holding you in place as you shakily breathe with the hold he has on you. “Can’t tell ya where to place it, can only advise. Just don’t want such a pretty girl to shed any tears.” 

That’s when you knew you could trust him. That even a man as hardened as himself could treat you with such care. 

He excuses himself for a moment, opting for more transfer paper and leaving you topless in his private office. 

Your ears were ringing, you could hear the quickening beat of your heart. You slowly inch off the portable tattoo table, glancing around Joel’s dark academia-style office. 

He’s an enigma, you think, the more you look at his surroundings. Quiet but dark, you knew he was concealing a hidden desire. You hope to unlock it. That he’ll trust you enough just as you trust him. 

Articles of clothing start to drop to the floor, one by one. You knew you’d be ambushing him; you didn’t want to scare Joel. So you left yourself in your soft pink-colored bra and panty set. You thought it was classy and cute. Not too forward, but sweet. Definitely planned out, you hope he doesn’t notice. 

All your confidence quickly disappears as soon as he comes back in through the door. You could feel your heart slowly sink to your stomach, your lips parting to come up with some sort of reasoning. 

“I-I’m sorry,” is all you can think to say. Joel is stilled at the entrance of his office, door still ajar as he blankly stares at the delicate angel standing in the middle of his office. 

He clears his throat and finally closes the door, leaving the two of you in silence. You can’t read his expression. 

“What do ya think you’re doin’?” He asks, sweet southern drawl dripping with tension as his heavy boots slowly make their way closer to you. 

You can only shake your head, unsteady hands concealing as much of your body as possible. You decide to face the mirror, keeping your back to him. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Miller, I was just-” Lie. “I was just looking at your full-length mirror to see other placement ideas.” 

Joel merely shakes his head, a knowing look in his eyes. “I can tell when you’re lyin’ t’me, baby girl. You wanna try tellin’ me the truth now?”

His tone only makes the ache in your core grow with desire as your pulse quickens under his eyeline. 

You feel embarrassed, heat coursing through your body and making you tingle as his stare lingers selfishly, basking in the glory of your figure. You watch with want in the reflection as his eyes stare at the curves of your hips and your ass. A handful, he probably thinks. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he coaxes, moving closer and enveloping you in his musky pine and whiskey scent. It’s almost knowing what he says next. “Tell me what y’want.” 

You swallow the lump protruding in your throat before you decide to be honest with him. Like you said, you could trust him. You play with your fingers and pick at the skin by your nails.

“I want you.” You say barely above a whisper. 

Joel simply shakes his head, takes another impossible step closer, and cranes his head down to hear you better. His lips and coarse beard hairs tickle at the shell of your ear. 

Your eyes close shyly as he speaks again amid your silence. 

“Say it again, baby. Can’t hear ya.” His toned front meets your back, forcing a whimper past your lips. 

You work up the nerve to take a glance at the two figures in the gold-framed mirror. Perfect opposites. Young, beautiful, a little inexperienced. Older, handsome, sure as hell looks like he knows what he’s doing. 

His height looms over you. His eyes are an unknown shade of obsidian and he’s radiating a comforting warmth. Your hand reaches for his, only able to look him in the eyes through the glass as you guide his hand to your hip. 

Your thumb rolls across the faded tattoo on the backside of his hand. There used to be a cross there, but it looks to be covered up by some sort of python now. With a shaky sigh, you try again. “I want you, Mr. Miller. I want you to take my virginity.” 

You’ve prepared yourself to hear his laughter, a snickering, degrading comment of disbelief. You felt ready to experience shame. But you were wrong. 

Joel places his pointer finger under your chin, using his other hand to guide you in his hold to turn and face him. His thumb grazes over your lower lip as he guides your head to tilt up and look at him properly. Your soft eyes meet his lust-driven ones and your heart surges at the sight. 

You’ve never seen a man so hungry. 

“You want me to take your virginity, little bunny?” He hums seductively. Suddenly, you don’t feel so doomed. It’s placed with a little bit of eagerness now. You wanted your spoils. 

“Yes. Want you to do whatever you desire with me, I’ll do anything you want.” You sound like a devoted cult member, but the energy you feel is undeniable. You’re sure you’ve soaked through your panties at this point. 

Slowly but surely, Joel begins to nod. He’s mulled it over and he’s made up his mind. 

“Whatever I desire, huh?” He tuts almost degradingly. Your nod of enthusiasm makes his blood rush. 

He hesitates, untrusting of his own words. 

“Want you to call me Daddy,” He starts haphazardly, gauging your reaction. “Think you can do that, sweet girl?”

Your wide eyes soften, a notch of confusion knotting your eyebrows. 

“You- what?” 

“Want you to call me daddy. Want you to be a good little girl for me and hop up on that desk. Can ya do that for me, princess?” His chin juts up and signals toward his office desk. 

The swirling in your stomach just won’t stop. 

“Go on now.” His orotund voice projects his instructions. You back up a few paces until you feel the cool metal of his desk hit your backside, slowly moving to sit on it with hidden excitement and a shiver up your spine. 

You do want to be good, if there’s anything you want in this world right now, it’s to play along and be good for him. Knowing he would take care of you was making you leak. 

His fingertips delicately touch your skin, starting at your wrists and moving upwards to the straps on your bra. He’s intimidating to look at, so you fixate on something behind him. But it doesn’t help when he clouds your vision. Even his aroma, from the smoke of his cigarettes to the musky spruce cologne, was putting you in a tailspin. 

You don’t anticipate the way your body moves for him. His hands skim to the back of your bra, and your spine straightens. It makes the right side of his mouth twitch up into a smirk. 

“Nervous?” He belittles.

Your long lashes innocently flutter, you think you might be doing it on purpose. You sort of like playing along. 

“A little… Daddy.” You test cautiously, the word tangling on your tongue. But it’s unforgettable the way his eyes light up at the name. You find yourself already willing to do whatever it takes to recreate that signature look of his. 

Joel hums appreciatively, thumb making minuscule circles over your chin. “I’ll take care of ya. Ya know that. Or else you wouldn’t have chosen me.”

All you can do is nod. Because he knows that your selection process was a real thing. You had danced around it once during your first consultation when he asked if you had a boyfriend. All you could feel was heat rising to the back of your neck, shy eyes evading his warm brown orbs. 

“No, definitely not.” 

“What��d’ya mean definitely not? You’re a pretty girl.”  

You shrug in a noncommittal way. “I’ve never had to really worry about stuff like… boyfriends. Or girlfriends. Any of that sort of stuff.” 

His eyes flicked up to yours in an instant, a mutual understanding of your underlying words. “I see. I understand, angel.” 

Joel works your bra off with one hand, you gasp as you feel the material loosen around your body. His opposite hand taps at the top of your thigh. You’re all too aware you are eagerly sitting half-naked on his desk. 

“Open.” He directs, voice laced with smoke. 

You nip at your lower lip and slowly inch your clamped-shut thighs open for him. He instantly makes eye contact with the wet, dark little circle that’s ruining the pristine innocence of your panties. 

He decides not to make fun of it, but it’s truly a compliment. Your adoration for him. “This all for me, angel?”

You work up a few quick nods. Now that he was so close, you wanted him to hurry the hell up.

“Yes.���

“Yes, what?” 

You feel heat tingle at the sides of your neck. This would be your first time really talking like this with someone. He made it feel safe to talk so dirty. To try, to learn. 

“Yes, daddy.”

You can’t deny how proud you feel to be the reason a certain warmth brightens in his eyes and on his smirk. You did that, you pleased him. Little did you know how he’d thank you for it. 

“You said you’re a virgin? Hard to believe.”

A shaky sigh leaves your parted lips as his warm palms slowly pull your bra down, revealing your breasts to him. “Just never found anyone I really trusted or liked enough.” 

He mutters something quiet in understanding, all too distracted by how damn pretty you look. 

Joel is silently observing your body, he can’t help but want to touch the delicate flower in front of him. A gasp leaves your parted lips as his calloused hands come up and cup your breasts. He starts to squeeze, and a happy little whimper leaves your mouth with a small smile. 

“I like that.” You tell him, hoping it improves your chances that he’ll do it again. Which he does. 

“Good.” He compliments, pinching your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, turning them into peaks that send electricity down your spine. 

A sweet and experimental moan leaves your lips. Joel stands between your parted legs and you feel his erection for the first time against your skin. You can tell by the shape protruding through his pants that he’s a large man, already thick and swollen for your taking. 

“No one’s ever been inside of you?” He damn near growls, raising an eyebrow after the beat he offers you to answer.  

You shake your head again. “I’ve tried my fingers, but I’m sure it’s not the same.” 

A scoffy little breath echoes out of his nose. “No, not quite. Lay back for me, bunny.” His hands release your breasts, pebbled nipples left abandoned as you slowly move down onto your elbows and then onto your back. 

There was a sudden peak of anxiety, not being able to fully see him. But perhaps this was the point, to fully surrender yourself under his touch. To trust him. 

His rough hands grip the sides of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. He gets about halfway down your thighs before you quickly sit up on your elbows again. 

“Joel?” Your voice anxiously chirps. 

He stops, eyes flicking up to you from your cunt still concealed by your sticky thighs. 

“We can stop,” He says before you can explain. “S’okay if you’re not ready.”

“No, no, that’s not it, God, that’s not it,” You rid his worries, feeling your chest quickly rise and fall under his all of a sudden protective gaze. 

“I uh-... I know you don’t owe me this, we’re not together, but… can you talk me through what you’re doing? I want to learn, and I can tell you’re experienced, I know it’s a lot to ask but-”

“S’not too much to ask.” He quickly intervenes, gently taking your hands and guiding you to sit up fully once more. Your soft eyes graze over all the layers he’s still wearing, and suddenly you’re reminded how naked you are. 

“Use your voice, sweet girl. Can tell you wanna say somethin’. This is your time.” 

The sentiment means a lot. It is your time, your first time, and just because you’re an adult doesn’t mean it should be any less special. So you decide to make it your time, the way you want it. 

“Can you take your clothes off too? And is the door locked?” You trail off upon seeing his amused smirk. 

“Go on.” He nods again, letting you list your needs and wants. 

“And can you kiss me, please, Daddy?” You ask more softly than the rest of your demands. You know that kissing is romantic, but you think it might help settle you. Pull you back from drifting away, keep you here with him.  

He watches you for a moment, a bemused grin on his lips before he gently cradles your face. “The door’s locked. I’ll take my clothes off. And I’ll kiss you as many times as you like as long as you keep askin’ that nice.” 

For the first time during your interaction, your face lights up with a smile. It’s small, it’s thankful, but it’s there. There was an undeniable connection you shared with Joel, it made you feel safe under his curious eyes. 

With his large hands cupping either side of your jaw, he leans down while simultaneously guiding your chin up as your lips meet. It’s gentle at first, soft. His mouth tastes like a cigarette, it’s oddly intoxicating and you find yourself wanting more.

You know how to make out at the very least. So when you gently bite down and tug on Joel’s lower lip, both of your eyes open as a throaty little groan escapes him. 

He kisses you a little harder this time, hands falling to your hips as he pulls you closer so your fronts align. The force makes your lips part and Joel takes the opportunity to let his tongue invade your mouth. He moves fluently to explore, both of you falling into a sweet lull as your bodies meld into one. 

Inadvertently, he hooks his pointer finger into your panties halfway down your thighs and finishes pulling them to your ankles. They land somewhere on the floor in a pile of your other clothes. 

Unbeknownst to you until he took his hands off your body to pluck open his belt do you realize how you were on fire for him. 

You wonder while he pushes down his trousers and tugs off his shirt if he’s ever slept with a virgin before. If you’d be his version of a first time just like he’d be yours. No, not his first ever, you weren’t that foolish. But maybe you could teach him a thing or two as well. 

There’s no way to mask your surprise when he pushes down his boxer briefs, the dark band revealing all that was underneath. His half-hard cock raises towards his stomach, rosiness fluttering at his tip. You were pleasantly surprised to find that it was a little hooked, deliciously curving upwards. 

With a new sense of confidence, your hand reaches forward and you start to shift your hand up and down his length. Joel’s quiet grunt shatters your thoughts. He gently cups the side of your neck and twirls a piece of hair around his finger. 

Joel takes your hand off his cock and you worry you’ve done something wrong already. He holds it palm-side up and nods encouragingly. “Spit on your hand, baby.”

He nods after you look up at him with shy, blown-out eyes. But you obey. 

You spit into your hand and let him guide your hand back around his member. That seems a lot better. He glistens with your spit and you have the urge to keep shocking him with your confidence.

You lean forward and directly spit onto his tip, looking up to see his approving little smirk. 

“Fuck- That’s- mmm, that’s good, angel,” he sighs with a certain happiness, loving the feeling of getting his cock taken care of. “Feels real good.” 

The praise sets off a million pistons in your brain, feeling yourself scrabble off the desk,  dropping to your knees as you continue to pump him. 

He’s heavy in your hand, and you gently lean forward to give sweet kisses to the tip. You swallow the lump in your throat before parting your lips, taking the head of his cock into your mouth. He’s salty, musky, but not dirty. In fact, he was rather well-kempt in his nether regions. 

You force yourself deeper and Joel already has his hands in your hair to pause you. 

“Woah, slow your roll, pretty girl.” He says with shortened breaths. Heat floods your body, you hate being so new to this. 

Joel continues to stroke your hair back, gently gliding a thumb up your cheekbone before he cradles one side of your face. “I see you gettin’ all shy, I know this is your first time, but I’ll teach you the basics. And no one’s perfect on their first try, okay? So just get that thought outta your head now.”

Your chest swells at his eagerness to relax you, so you nod gently and lean in to kiss the base of his stomach in appreciation. The right side of his mouth tilts up as he swipes his thumb across your plump bottom lip, a silent thank you for the kiss. 

“You’re a real good girl, you know that?” A bigger smile breaks across your lips and you eagerly tug on his cock with eagerness. Joel sighs, already in defeat at how you’re willing to get it right for him, to learn, to listen. To obey. 

“You’re gonna wanna relax your jaw,” his fingers guide you, your lips parting and letting your jaw drop lower, lower, lower for him. “And the whole part is to suck, not just put your mouth on it, okay, peaches? So hollow your cheeks, no teeth, and only go as far as you feel comfortable.” 

You shake off your nerves and clear your throat, feeling your mouth fill with spit intended for him. You place your hands on the back of his thighs, feeling the dark hairs under the pads of your fingers. 

Slowly, you wrap your mouth around his tip once more. You swirl your tongue around him, adoring the way he hisses when you glide your tongue across the slit leaking a salty substance. 

Over the introduction, you try to take him down your throat properly. And he’s a mouthful, literally. He’s a lot. But you try to just enjoy that there’s no real pressure. 

A lot of saliva starts to build in your mouth, and you swallow it around him. You’re awestruck when he lets out a low moan, strong hands weaving through your hair and lightly tugging. Your eyes flutter up to him through your lashes, and he’s looking at you so deliciously. 

You can tell he wants to fuck your mouth, holding his hips back from really letting you have it. And maybe he could do that to you someday, but for now, today was slow. And Joel knew that too. 

Joel gently tucks your hair back, your lips suctioning around his length before he drags you back towards him, indicating for you to start moving, to bob your head. 

It takes a few tries, but you really feel yourself going further down his cock. You breathe through your nose, but it’s hard when you’re trying not to gag around him. Finally, after little to no error, you slip up. His tip unexpectedly hits the back of your throat and you gag around him.  Joel must feel your whole body tense with anxiety because he’s quick to gently hush and console you. Your eyes well up with tears, but your first instinct is to keep him inside your mouth and swallow around him. 

A long, low groan leaves Joel’s mouth, a compliment to your first big challenge. 

“Holy fuck,” he pants, weaving his fingers into your hair and fisting eagerly to keep himself grounded. “You’re doin’ so fuckin’ well, princess, you have no idea, fuck,” he grins. “Try using your hands on what you can’t take, come on, baby.” 

You can feel yourself physically gush at his compliments, your stomach swirling with a newfound desperation. To please. 

With new instructions, you work your hand at his base and pump up and down with the rhythm of your mouth. You worked on gently squeezing and releasing your hand, making Joel go slack-jawed as a husky groan leaves the back of his throat. Sucking and licking and bobbing your head in earnest, he’s already twitching in your mouth. 

“You’ve done this before baby,” his voice drips with a smirk, pulling yourself off for some deep breaths and a few desperate swallows. 

“Haven’t, promise, Joel,” You coo with a proud little smile, your voice thick and wrecked as you continue to pump his cock in the absence of your mouth. 

Joel lets your hair go and guides your hand off his cock before helping you up from the floor. 

Your face is obviously written with disappointment, you could have continued. You sort of wanted to continue despite the ache hanging around in your jaw. 

“You were gonna make me come, don’t wanna come yet, angel,” Joel pants weakly, ducking down and connecting your lips. You’re a little taken aback. Not by the kiss, but by the fact you already had him nearly ready to finish. 

“Really?” You murmur hopefully against his mouth, wishing he wasn’t just saying it to compliment you. 

The way that his features started to twitch and his tummy and chest fluttered with his jagged breathing, it would have been quite a sight to see him finish. Maybe he would have even done it right on your tongue. The thought alone gives you goosebumps. 

Your insides swirl as he licks inside of your mouth and gently runs his tongue along your bottom lip, moving you back towards his desk. You hop up without his instruction, feeling him smirk against your pouted mouth. 

“Now you’re gettin’ a hang of things.” He murmurs into your mouth, carrying on where he had left off before, sinking down to his own knees at the edge of the desk and positioning your feet to rest up on the edge. He seems to stare at the glistening arousal you’ve been creating for the last hour straight. 

That nervous feeling settles in your stomach, completely bare and open for him. A shocked gasp leaves your mouth, not prepared for him already to be diving into your pussy. 

The breadth of his tongue slowly swipes up the center of your core, purposely flicking off of your clit and making you yelp at the contact. His cold tongue piercing against your sensitive bundle made a shiver shoot up your spine. 

He gently smirks as he places a sweet kiss on the inside of your thigh. “You’re jumpy, kitten. Take a breath. Wanna make you feel real good.” 

You let out a shaky sigh and move off your elbows, back flat on his desk as your eyes slowly drift close. Then, as he starts to truly taste you, learning you and what you like, it’s unexpected how much you enjoy it. It never really dawned on you that some people truly enjoy eating pussy, but Joel Miller sure does. 

Your broken little whimpers and strung-out moans turn into writhing on his desk under him. He was such an expert, meticulously swirling his tongue around you and suckling your clit into his mouth. 

It didn’t take long for your fingers to wind up into his hair as his shoulders lay bracketed between your thighs. It was heavy, it was stomach-twisting, in fact, it was rolling through you like a storm. The it in question was your first oral orgasm. 

“J-Joel,” you gasp, your jaw dropping down as he slowly prods the tip of his finger at your entrance. 

“Need to get you ready for my cock, sweet girl, keep focusing on how good you feel,” he encourages. Your face pinches as his finger slowly sinks into your entrance, but you realize how grateful you are for all the extra spit and arousal Joel has provided. 

It doesn’t necessarily hurt, it’s a weird ache at first. But then his finger starts to slowly pump inside of you, and it’s a new craving. Especially with the way his tongue moves around your clit, the pistons in his brain firing all to figure out what you like. 

Do you like when he flicks your clit with his cold metal piercing?

“Ohmygod-” you gasp. 

Do you like when he swirls his naughty tongue around you in tight figure eights? 

“Joel, please,” you say, needing more. 

Did you like it most when he suckles around your sweet bud?

“Joel!” You cry out, tugging tighter at his hair, not sure if you want to tug him closer for more or push him away because it feels too good. 

“O-Oh, oh my god.” Lying still was a foreign thing to you now, all you could do was wiggle and grip your fingers into his hair, tugging harshly as he grunted against your core in enjoyment. 

He actually likes pleasing you, he likes tasting you! It’s a compliment without words as your eyes dip close and your head digs back into the desk.

Suddenly, your stomach starts to drop like you’re on a rollercoaster. You’re not unfamiliar with the feeling of an orgasm, but this, oral, it hits differently. 

“Fuck,” you curse unexpectedly, making Joel cock up an eyebrow as he glances up at you. All you can do is watch as his mouth suckles harder around you, his finger pumping faster and adding a second. 

Because if there’s anyone in this world that can break you out of your shell, Joel wants it to be him. 

Now you’re really aching for him,  wishing that it was his cock slotted between your walls, pushing you towards euphoria. 

“Know you wanna come for me angel,” his fingers quirk upwards in a come here motion, and a long, strung-out moan of his name leaves your lips.

God forbid any of the shop’s workers or clients hear you, but you can’t think of a singular reason to care right now. 

Your walls flex and squeeze around Joel’s two fingers, truly feeling the stretch as you come around his digits. It leaves you a whimpering mess on his desk, hot pants leaving your pretty lips. 

Joel is in heaven, lapping you up and moaning against your core as your clit starts to twitch with the overstimulation. His hands squeeze at the flesh of your thighs before he sits up and kisses up your body, his own lips meeting yours. He’s hungry, and you’re still bouncing back. But you want it so bad, and you’re so close to finally having it. 

“Joel, I’m ready.” You coo, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

He breathily laughs and pecks your lips once more, tasting your own arousal and making you feel warm inside. 

“Desperate for my cock, ain’t that right, pretty girl?” 

God, he was such a menace with his mouth. Your adorably shy grin is all the answer he needs. But you give him one anyway, because he likes when you talk like that with him. 

“Yes, daddy, I just wanna feel it already,” you try out, Joel’s lust-filled eyes meeting yours as white-hot heat spills into your stomach. 

“I’ll give it to ya, baby girl. Wanna give that tight little virgin pussy my cock, don’t want anyone else to have ya. Mine.” Joel huskily grunts, a choked moan leaving your lips. 

Joel reaches past your head and to the drawer on the other side of the desk. He jimmies it open and searches his hand around blindly. He flips open his wallet and pulls a small square foil package from the slot. 

Oh, duh, a condom. In all your excitement, you sort of forgot to be safe. But you’re glad he was prepared. 

You watch with adoration on your features as Joel lifts the condom to his lips, pearly teeth ripping the foil off but not hurting the condom. His other hand rests sweetly on your hip, thumb running soothing circles into your pretty skin. 

It’s a soothing feeling, one that he doesn’t have to do, but he does because he’s being considerate and maybe even a little protective. You gently lay your hand on his forearm, fingers tracing fresh black ink and older green ink on his arm’s sleeve. 

A shaky sigh leaves your lips as he uses both hands to glide the condom down his shaft. It’s nearly invisible, the way it’s so thin and tightly wrapped around his cock. Besides the band that rests at the very bottom of his shaft. He grumbles something incoherent, probably his annoyance with the fussing of the condom and how tight it probably felt around him.  

You take in a shaky breath and nod at him once he comes to rejoin your centers. 

“You’re sure you’re ready for this? Don’t wanna wait for someone y’love? Or trust? Or just... Anybody but me?” Joel’s face is pinched with genuine concern. 

You smile softly and gently cup his cheek. “I do trust you. It takes a lot of trust to allow someone to alter your body forever with a tattoo. So, you’re giving me a tattoo, and you’re taking my virginity. You’re sort of doubling down for me right now, honestly.” 

Joel flashes a genuine little smile. It’s the most you’ve said consistently all day with him, even with a little drip of sarcasm and wit. 

“Okay. But ya gotta say it.” He says more seriously. 

“I’m ready, Daddy. Want you to make me feel good. I know you can.” You can already feel yourself picking up his dirty talk. It makes your smile twitch as you gently grip both of his forearms, his hands spreading your thighs open for him. 

He enters the space, his heavy cock resting over your core and slowly slipping up and down your wet folds. 

You let out an unexpected little scoff as he grinds himself down against you, your arousal soaking the condom. He holds himself at his base and taps his tip down against your already throbbing clit, making you hiss out a desperate whine. 

“M’not usually this… gentle.” He admits through gritted teeth. You’re sort of shocked by that. Sure, he has a rough and tough exterior, but he’s treated you with such delicacy that you assumed he was like this all the time. 

“So, what are you usually like?” You pose, your breath hitching in your throat as one of his hands abandons your thighs and guides his tip from your clit to your entrance, up and down, several times. Your thighs twitch impatiently. Your entrance squeezes around nothing. 

“M’just... not this gentle,” is all he can say without breaking into a bemused smile. 

“Yeah? Maybe you can show me next time what you’re really like.” 

Joel playfully scoffs as his face starts to pierce with concentration. “Not sure if you can handle it, kitten.” 

“I’m sure I-” your words are cut off by a loud gasp, your lips parting as his tip penetrates your walls. You’re phased for a moment before you gulp and recollect yourself. You whimper, louder and louder as he pushes on, watching Joel move with such caution. 

He really is holding back, you think. You wonder what he’s like when he can just fuck how he pleases. 

“Baby,” Joel’s voice breaks your concentration. “Breathe.” 

A loud huff of air leaves your mouth that you hadn’t even realized you were holding in. The ache in your hips and core only builds with tension as Joel pushes on, his length and girth surely parting your tight walls. 

“So fuckin’- tight.” He says with gritted teeth, his fingers piercing into the delicate flesh of your outer thighs, making you whimper. 

“Joel,” you quietly cry for him, tears threatening to spill at the pain. It’s just- a lot. It’s a lot for your first time, and maybe you wouldn’t have signed up if you knew what he was packing, but in a weird way, you loved it. He felt made for you. 

“M’here, angel, look at me.” In all the excitement and overwhelming feelings of pain and pleasure, you hadn’t even noticed you were clenching your eyes closed. You slowly peek them open, greeted by his heavenly features. 

“There’s my girl.” He compliments, warmth and sweetness shooting through your body. 

“Fuck,” you say, your voice a bit wet as Joel comes down closer to aid you. He’s all the way in now, you can feel his balls flushed against your sopping wet cunt. 

The arousal helps, the condom sort of doesn’t but it’s fine, that’s life, you think. You’re torn between pain and pleasure. Honestly, you just feel so fucking full. 

He tells you between breathy pants that he would have used lube if he had any, but he didn’t, and he’s sorry, and his pretty voice starts to turn into static with how fucking good he feels inside of you. 

“You’re doing so good for me, angel,” he praises, sponging a few kisses along your cheeks and tasting your salty tears. You feel like some weak pathetic being under him. He’s been sweet, but you’re sure he’s just treating you like he found a wounded animal. 

“Move, Joel, please” you weakly demand, lassoing your arms around his neck and holding him close to you. 

“No.” He says through gritted teeth. “Just-” he pauses and takes a deep breath, knowing that you’re dealing with a million emotions right now as he’s trying to breathe around the death grip you have on his cock. “Just wait a minute, sweetheart, let yourself adjust.” 

A pouty, bratty sigh leaves your lips as you continue to blink away tears. You eventually nod and he only smiles adoringly as he returns to kiss at the tears.

Your senses are spiked. You can smell his cologne, feel each gristle of hair from his salt and pepper beard. It’s erotic how much more you can feel while at the edge of your emotions. 

One of your hands roams into his darling chocolate curls, instinctually going to gently scrape your nails delicately against his scalp. You’re sweetly surprised to hear him mutter a sweet little moan just for you against the shell of your ear. 

Your hands flutter across dark tattoos on his shoulders and arms, your blurry vision trying to make out the shapes as you trace a pretty angel on his upper bicep. 

Joel Miller was inside of you. Joel Miller has taken your virginity. The hottest man you’ve ever set your eyes on is fucking you at his place of work, on his desk. And you convinced him to. 

Joel was right. The pain, ache, and burn slowly turned into a real yearning for him to move. It felt like what was right, a certain neediness to be filled and fucked.  

“Daddy,” you whisper more sweetly this time, more to your character. “Please fuck me, you feel good now, I can take it. Promise.” 

It takes him a moment to gather himself as well, smiling sweetly as he keeps his mouth by your breasts where he is sucking a gentle hickey into your soft skin. Color flushes to the area, feeling his teeth gently nibble on the spot before he finally lifts off. 

Marking you, you think. It makes another gush of arousal flood your core, liquifying your spine as you become putty in his hands. 

His mouth twitches in a small smile as he captures your lips. Unbeknownst to you, the sweet kiss was just a distraction. 

Joel slowly began reeling his hips back which was a whole new sensation. His strangled moan harmonized with the gasp you let out into his mouth, moaning out the breath you were holding as he plunges himself fully back inside your warm cunt. 

You whimpered weakly, needy and anxiously happy, you wanted more. More, more, more. 

“Oh- my god,” you whimper, feeling him start a steady rhythm inside of you. Your jaw slowly drops and your eyes flutter closed, feeling your tits start to lightly bounce every time his hips perfectly align with your own. 

“So goddamn tight, still,” he grunts each word, forehead against yours as he watches your face unfold with a million reactions. 

Something primal switches in Joel, knowing he’s the first one to do this sort of stuff with you. 

It’s strangely possessive and arrogant, he knows it, but being the first man you trust to fuck you properly was feeding his ego. You’re a beautiful young woman with big doe eyes who waltzed into his shop and insisted he rail you, take your sacred first, talk you through it, and carry you through this dark and fearful forest. 

You trusted him. He wouldn’t break that bond. 

You came here wanting something, knowing how to get it. You came here asking, and Joel was open to teaching. The last thing he wanted was for some asshole to hurt you, something your sweet nature couldn’t afford was poison. 

Maybe he could teach you more, if you wanted. If he offered you an invitation to his world, would you take it? He only shared a slice of his lifestyle with you today, would the rest scare you, or entice you? 

Joel can’t help the way his hips buck faster at his thoughts, a little sob leaving your lips. He’s absent, just for a moment, feeling your skin slap against his as he holds you down and fills you fully. His tip hits your cervix for the first time and heat floods your stomach as you cry out his name. 

“Shit,” he panics and quickly comes back to his senses, wide eyes meeting your bleary ones, “you okay, angel? M’sorry” Joel whispers, returning to his original rhythm. 

“Yes-yes, fuck, please keep going, keep doing that, I can’t believe how good it feels.” 

Joel weakly smirks, proud to see you taking him so well.

The desk squeaks and juts with each of his heavy thrusts, that’s how you know it’s fucking good. You came here wanting to lose your virginity, but now that you’ve unwound Joel Miller, you want him to fucking rail you. 

Licking your lips, you lean up and pepper kisses up his wirey jawline, feeling the patch of hair that fades out and then back in again. He’s so sweet right now, but you wonder what he was talking about before. What was he when he wasn’t gentle? How good would rough feel? Would you like it? Maybe you could learn, explore, adventure. Surely Joel with his experience could be a guiding light. 

You watch with glittery eyes as Joel pulls his head off yours and licks across the pads of his fingers. 

“What are you- shit,” you whimper as his fingers start circling your clit, taking a moment to find your sweet little rhythm, one that somehow matches his hips. Now, your skin is slapping and it’s echoing around the room. Your moans are louder and uncontrollable, as are Joel’s. Your hips ache but you don’t find the will to care, he feels like fucking heaven. 

His cock is somehow inching deeper, as if your walls have decided to invite him in further, where he hits this perfect little spot inside of you that makes you squeak Joel’s name with robbed breaths. 

You’re not sure if you can hold on much longer, your stomach starts to swirl as all the knots inside your belly begin to untie themselves. 

You brace Joel at his shoulders and look into his eyes as you moan his name. A certain hunger flickers behind his dark brown orbs. His jaw clicks and he starts fucking you in earnest, filling you up each time as his hips snap with vigor. He feels fucking amazing, piercing your walls and marking you as his. 

“Joel-”

“Say what I wanna hear, baby,” he rasps. You quickly nod and gulp. 

“Daddy, please, I-I’m so close,” you moan sweetly as your head digs into the desk, jutting your chin up and arching your back. Joel takes full advantage of your breasts in his face, burying his nose in between them and nipping at the sensitive flesh, nearly making you yelp. 

“M’right there with you, angel baby, come for me,” he insists breathlessly.

His hips were losing their precision, going buck-wild, so you knew he was close. But he was holding out for you. 

You clench your eyes closed, feeling yourself lose all control. Your heart races in your chest, beat thrumming in your throat as you hold Joel against your front as his hips continue to snap and fill you. You don’t know what to do with your mouth, so you feverishly land your lips on his and make him mask the moans of your orgasm. 

Joel’s groan echoes loudly into your mouth as you gasp against his lips. Your walls clench eagerly around his cock as he spills into the condom. 

It’s blinding, deafening even. Your face goes slack and your eyes see stars. You think you might be shedding a tear or two because Joel is cupping your face kindly, thumbs swiping under your eyes as he encourages you out of your haze. 

“Lemme see those eyes, pretty girl,” he pants sweetly, watching for any sign of doubt. But he wouldn’t find any. 

You’re not so sure where he starts and you begin, your mind is so fuzzy. 

A soft hum leaves your lips as you soothingly run a hand through his dark hair again, gently stroking the longer curls away from the sheen on his forehead. Both of you were so warm, it felt like a fire was set between you two. When you curl a strand around your finger, you weakly smile as it coils back up and bounces. 

“How was your first time, angel?” Joel pants, still buried balls deep inside of you. Your hips ache, but part of you wasn’t ready for him to pull out yet. 

“I can’t believe I finished twice.” You admit with a shy smile, running a thumb up his cheekbone and glancing up at his eyebrow piercing. He notices you staring but keeps his eyes on your own.  

“Did it hurt?”

He shakes his head. 

“What about the one in your nose?”

He shakes his head again, this time with a smile. 

“Or your tongue?” 

This one made him ponder before he finally gave a light shrug. 

“You don’t remember the pain after a while. Just like tattoos. The pain is temporary.” 

Your mouth tilts in a lopsided smile, feeling messy with both of your spillages still puddled around your centers. 

Joel grunts as he slowly stands up from his bent-over position on the desk, pulling himself out of you and tying up the condom before he tosses it into the waste bin. 

You whine quietly to yourself as you close your legs. It hurts a little more now. Your hips and your core, a certain soreness. Or maybe it was missing him already. 

“Oh,” you whisper, starting to feel a little bit of leakage glide down your thigh. “Joe, do you-” 

“Course,” Joel says assuringly, hands already on a towel as he neals down and gently glides the material up the inside of your thigh. You bite down on your lip as he cleans you up with the soft towel and a little bit of water. 

You glance around the sterilized room and realize he’ll probably have to scrub this place down for the most part. Whoops. 

You’re slow to dress. Joel’s already buttoned his pants by the time you find your panties. He snickers quietly and helps you dress with a smirk. 

It’s not awkward like you feared it would. It sort of felt like you guys were friends. Then, something sort of unexpected happens. 

Joel fondly strokes a hair out of your face, pushing it behind your ear and smoothing out the little knots he had caused while fisting your hair during his blowjob. He’s soft and gentle with you. It makes you oh so curious what he looks like when he’s not soft and gentle. 

You sigh softly as you look at yourself in the mirror. You sort of felt proud, like you’d be a whole new person leaving the shop today. Even without a tattoo. 

“Joel, I don’t want anyone to see me leaving your office.” 

“That ashamed of me, huh?” He scoffs at you playfully, running his hand up and down his chest hair before he finally throws on his shirt. “I have the back office, so we can just go out that door.” He juts up his chin to behind you and you follow his eyeline. “Goes to the alley behind the shop.” 

You note the dark green painted exit door, and you’re thankful you don’t have to parade through the front of the shop or go past any other clients. 

The gentleman that he is, Joel walks you to your car as dusk settles in, marking the sky an orange and red horizon.  

“I gotta clean up the shop and close. You gonna be okay until I see you next?”

You nod meekly, a sweet smile on your face that twinges with a little shyness. “I’ll be okay. I still need that tattoo.” You tease to which he grins. 

“You do. I’ve worked real hard on it, so you better come back an’get it.” 

You nip at your lower lip as he stays guarded by your window, like a handsome pierced, and tatted bodyguard. 

It’s itching at you too much to let it go. You’re just too curious. “M’not this gentle.” 

“Yeah? Maybe you can show me next time what you’re really like.” 

“Not sure if you can handle it, kitten.” 

You gulp and clutch his hand before he fully stands up to walk away from your car. “You’ll show me again sometime? Like you said?”

Your eyes glimmer with a certain hopefulness, but his own seem to harden out of caution. 

It was just insane that he knew so much more than you. You wanted to unlock all forms of pleasure you were comfortable with. You like that he was holding something back. 

You were wet clay in his massive hands, he could mold you to his liking. You could learn his pleasures, his kinks, what unravels him beyond repair. You could learn a thing or two about yourself in the process. 

Joel sighs. 

“You don’t know what you’re askin’ for.” He warns, lips crooked in a snarl. His eyes beg for you not to want him, not to want this. 

But nothing set your nerves on fire like seeing him in control of you, just that brief second where his eyes flashed from amber to black and he fucked you like nothing or no one was stopping him. What if you gave it all up to him? 

Submissiveness dances behind your eyes, and Joel’s a sucker for that sweet look on your face. He debates if this is what you really want, or if it’s something else. He can’t deny he enjoys the trust you put in him. 

Joel quietly sighs with hesitation, eyes the way your small hand desperately holds his before he finally squeezes back. 

“You don’t know how t’take no for an answer, do ya?” He asks, a small smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth. “That’ll have to change.” 

You grin and nod, biting down on your lower lip as you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Joel takes notice, not wanting to see you in any sort of discomfort, especially from something he caused. 

“Take some pain medicine and relax tonight, angel. You were perfect.” 

Your heart swells at the compliment, the appreciation, the care. He gently pats your window a few times before standing up straight and backing up from your car, moving back towards the dark green exit door. “I’ll see you soon.” 

Driving away, you’re giddy with excitement of the unknown. It was a dark path you wanted to pursue. And maybe it was fucking stupid how you could trust a complete stranger like this, how none of your past partners felt worthy of your first time, but the tattooed and pierced old southern gentleman did. It was fucked. But you were sort of fucked for Joel Miller. 

You hum to the radio as you experience pure adrenaline, thumb gliding over the raised numbers on his business card. You glance down and notice a small stamp of a fern in the top right corner, adjacent to his name and professional title. 

The Obsidian Gallery 

Joel Miller

Senior Tatoo Artist

You can’t explain how your heart inadvertently races as you remember flashes of his hips rutting into yours, those same delicate fern leaves decorating the front of his hips. You were so fucked for Joel Miller. 

next chapter ->

[saetoshis]

Listen. Yes Hoshina is a short king. But consider. . . If he's short he's probably feeling like he's got smth to prove. Excited to bend his partner over and deill them like they insulted him. Plus then he might hit you with the 'princess' or smth of the like. Putting youbin a verbal place of power (as the taller person) while he's still doming thr fuck out of you. "How'd you let this happen, princess? Letting someone like me see this weak side of you? Were you just careless? Overly trusting? Or perhaps you underestimated me. I suppose I'll have to punish you for that." Type beat.

Anway love our beloved Hoshi thanks as always for your tasty art!

HELPME UR SO RIGHT ... NOW IM THINKING LIKE ... WHAT IF U TEASED HIM FOR BEING A LIL SHORT N THEN .. YK ...

taller!fem reader [5'7"+ 172cm+], oral m. receiving, size kink [sorta?], teasing, pet name [ princess], fingering, squirting, MDNI.

you, who got all-too-cocky because your eyes are just a bit higher in line with his, made a mistake.

vice captain hoshina is nothing if not an enigma. his silly demeanor and playful attitude about everything makes him seem so non-threatening, that you might've gotten too comfortable with teasing him and acting high and mighty. whenever he tells you what to do, maybe you'll make a little gesture with your hand above his head, reminding him who has more "power." these jokes were your mistake.

maybe he'll want to punish you - watch you kneel in front of him, his hand on your pretty head as he guides you towards the bulge in his pants. maybe he'll hum out a little, "since you wanna poke fun at height, how 'bout you try being the short one for once?"

maybe hoshina will lean back and watch you unzip his pants, taking no time to push your mouth onto his eager cock. he might even rut his hips a little, muttering out between breathy 'fuck's, "not so big now, huh? how does it feel, hm? didn't think i'd be big down there, did you?"

hoshina watches so closely as you bob your head and pump your hand, thighs keening together where you're sat all prettily on the floor. a little smirk might even tug at his lips as he realizes just how turned on you're getting from this. "what, getting all hot and bothered by this? didn't think someone shorter than you could get you all worked up? you know better, don't you?"

his words send a jolt straight through your frame and you can't help but shudder, and all of a sudden the vice captain seems so much more intimidating, even more enticing than you ever thought. it's like he can sense you losing yourself in the moment, and he's got you right where he wants you.

hoshina leans down, flashing you a smug sneer as he lifts your face to look up at him - all the while admiring the pretty sheen of your lips and your glassy eyes. "is that what i think it is? is the princess who's always mocking my height suddenly unable to resist me? the irony... how should i deal with you, hm?"

he maneuvers you to bend over against the counter, chest pressed against the cool granite as he lets his thumb drag along your clothed pussy. one hand presses your back, the other languidly slipping off your shorts and panties as he hums, "oh, what's that? a wet spot, hm? not so cocky now, aren't you?"

it takes a lot of strength to even muster thoughts, your head spinning from how lewd he's acting - it's bafflingly hot. you pant against the counter as you look back, watching his eyes flit over your hips while his finger does the same against your clit. hoshina lets out a little laugh when he watches you shudder along with a strained whine.

"feels good, doesn't it? does being put in your place turn you on? yeah?" hoshina sneers and lets out a little chuckle, swiftly slipping his fingers between your walls and curling forwards. he can't help but wear a smirk on his face as he enjoys your willing submission. "let me remind you that i'm the vice captain of the third division. the strongest second to mina. forgot that, did you?"

his sheer strength shows in each intense flick and curl of his fingers against the spot that makes your spine shudder, and it's humbling. it's when he starts simultaneously toying with your clit that you feel like you're on fire, a buzz building up between your thighs just begging for release.

"that's it... yeah, let it out. show me just how much you like it. cum all over my hand, bet you'll never act cocky again," hoshina leers under his breath, ministrations going into overdrive as you shiver and whimper shamelessly. with a voice-cracking whine, his name falls from your lips over and over as flicks of liquid smother his hand from his unrelenting movements.

"ahh, of course you squirt on top of everything..." hoshina leans over the counter to admire the dizzied expression on your face with a little grin of his own. his fingers nudge your chin as he murmurs, "felt good? yeah? you gonna be good now? don't wanna hear you trying to humble me ever again after you left such a mess all over me."

he presses a little kiss on your cheek, smirking against your skin before he shifts to your ear. with a low whisper, he mutters, "unless you wanna have me fuck you in that suit... 92% isn't a joke, you know?"

2024 SAETOSHIS. do not copy/repost.

[savi0rr]

To Be Loved By a Painter

Ciel Phantomhive x Reader

✩.･*:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•*:｡✩

✩.･*:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•*:｡✩

“You’ve been sitting there, watching me for hours.” Ciel’s voice echoed through out his study. It was late into the night, the rest of the servants were asleep while Sebastian was off tending to anything around the manor. You and Ciel however—were staying up late. You insisted on staying with him until he finished his work. To which to his dismay, he had no choice.

“And not to mention, you’ve gotten paint all over the chair and the carpet.” Ciel grumbled as he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I didn’t notice.” You smiled sheepishly, sweat dropping. “But I swear—! It’ll all be worth it.” You said, peeking out from behind your canvas. Ciel sighed, shaking his head. “What on earth are you even painting?” He asked, placing down his quill. He titled his head to the side, letting out a small yawn.

You looked back down at your canvas, then looking back at him. “Give me a few minutes.” You said, before picking up your paint brush once more. “Fine.” Ciel grumbled, shaking his head.

“Done!” You said, whipping the sweat off of your forehead. You placed your paint brush down in the small cup of water by your side. Ciel perked up from his work, then leaning back in his chair. You smiled, then quickly picking up the canvas and faced it to him. Your cheeks flushed, feeling your heart beating faster.

Ciel blinked slowly, dumbfounded. He saw the way you basically had captured every single detail of himself. From the soft sparkle in his blue eye, to almost the perfect size of his eyebrows.

You gulped, watching Ciel’s facial expressions change. “It looks wonderful.” He spoke up, glancing up at your worried face. “What? You think I wouldn’t like it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he smirked. A small smile formed on your lips. “A but, you worried me.” You giggled, then looking down at your work.

“I believe this is my most valuable art piece now.” You said, looking back at Ciel. “And it would look wonderful on my wall.” He said as he stood up from his chair and walked around his desk. He stood in front of you, gently taking the portrait of him out of your hands and placing it on his desk.

Ciel let out a small tired sigh, to which you yawned. “Come along now…let us get ready for bed.” Ciel said as he reached over and patted your shoulder, then guiding you towards the door.

✩.･*:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•*:｡✩

The next morning, you saw the painting hanging in his study, right above his fireplace. “Seriously?” You sighed, looking up at your painting. Ciel shrugged. “Technically, it was Sebastian.” “Do you blame everything on him?” “…next question.”

[aylish91]

New chapter incoming!!

Sea Of Hope Chapter 8

Previous Next SOH Master Grandmaster

This masterful piece of art was done by @aoi-kanna as a commission. They are truly talented and I appreciate all the hard work they put into making this for me. Go check them out, they are absolutely wonderful!!!

Story below or AO3 above.

~~~

While Axe checked you over, Edge grabbed Red by the back of the neck and stormed down the main hatch, loudly yelling at the rest of the crew to mind their own business as they scurried out of his way. For the most part, Red's protests went unheard as he was dragged down the steep steps. Blue, on the other hand, had hesitantly approached Papyrus, whispering something before they too turned and headed past the hatch, disappearing through a pair of doors into the upper levels of the ship. 

The clearing of a throat had you tensing and pressing closer to Axe. Black had once again gotten closer than you were comfortable with, standing only a couple paces away. “AS HEARTWARMING AS THIS IS, IT IS QUICKLY BECOMING LATE AND THE LADY STILL NEEDS ADEQUATE DRESS. MY BROTHER’S COAT IS HARDLY A FITTING SUBSTITUTE.”  

Rus chuckled beside him. However, when he made to comment, a look from Black had him looking down instead. 

Axe narrowed his sockets. “Don’t know where you’re planning on get’n somethin. Ain’t exactly swimmin in extras and you’ve refused to mend mine so I could give it to her.”  

Black scoffed. “YOU FAILED TO MENTION IT WAS FOR YOUR MARKED. YOU HAVE ALSO YET TO COMPLETE THE TASK I ASKED OF YOU. I DID NOT SEE THE POINT IN TURNING IN YOUR FAVOR WHEN MY OWN HAD BEEN UNMET.” 

“Been busy.” 

“AS WE’VE ALL.” 

Something shifted in the air, both of their eyelights brightening. Rus glared, moving closer to his brother. It took Crooks placing a hand on Axe’s shoulder for the two to back down. 

“Petty bastard.” 

“WHEN IT SUITS ME.” With a flourish of a hand and a half step back, he indicated the direction of the doors, continuing to meet Axe’s gaze. “NOW, I BELIEVE WE SHOULD ATTEMPT TO FIND SOMETHING MORE SUITABLE UNTIL NEXT WE MAKE PORT. SURELY YOU CAN AGREE IT WOULD BE IN EVERYONE’S BEST INTEREST.”  

“Fine, but we’re not leadin’.” You could hear the creak of Axe’s teeth. 

“OF COURSE.” With a tight turn, Black nodded, marching forward with Rus trailing behind with a wink. "AS YOU WISH." 

Axe refused to move at first, tugging his empty socket and prompting a sighing Crooks to nudge you both. "I Know You Don’t Like Him, But He Is Fair.” 

“Bastard never does anything fer free.” 

“And Yet, He Has A Point.”  

Neither you nor Axe was reassured but allowed him to guide you forward regardless. Crewmen brave enough to linger eyed your group with various degrees of emotion. When a dog monster growled, another was quick to slap the back of their head, nervously hunching at a glare from both of your skeleton friends. You tried not to show your fear or your growing limp as you passed, hoping Rus' long coat hid what you couldn’t. It didn't seem like a good idea to show weakness around others. The watchful eyes and aggressive postures spoke volumes to your already heightened nerves. Entering the ship did nothing to ease your discomfort.  

It felt cramped and pressing despite having more than enough space and light. Unlike the previous ship, several lanterns lit the expanse leaving no ominous shadows or darkened areas. You could easily see all the doors lining the walls as well as the beautifully carved and decorated windowed doors marking the end of the hall. Rus waited near the last door on the left.  

It was calm and warm, but you couldn’t shake off the feelings of danger. 

“Ya c’n go inside Darlin. Milord’s wait’n.” Rus stood to the side, motioning you inside the now open door. 

You looked to your companions. While Axe kept his eyelight on Rus, Crooks’ soft smile and nod gave you enough of a boost to cautiously cross the threshold. It smelled of lavender tinted with something you couldn’t quite place, the overall size relatively small. What looked like a narrow modified canopy bed connected to the wall was on your right. In front of you, under a single window, was a rather lovely desk intricately carved with polished knobs. To your immediate left was an open decorative chest shoved in the corner. Everything was of exquisite taste and quality, from the bedding and carvings on the furniture to the upholstery on the chair at the desk. The few trinkets left out were of fine gold or silver with glistening jewels. 

You jumped when the door closed behind you. Axe nor Crooks had made it inside. It had your stomach rolling with nerves. You did not anticipate having the others closed out. Having Black now between you and the only exit made it worse. His eyelights were too bright. 

Didn’t Rus call him a lord...? 

Your chest tightened at his approach, making sure to lower your gaze. 

“TRUE TO MY WORD, THAT HORROR’S GARMENT HAS BEEN MENDED. HAD I KNOWN IT WAS FOR SOMETHING LIKE THIS, I NEVER WOULD HAVE HELD ONTO IT.” In his hands was a large linen shirt, neatly folded and dark in color. Holding it out, he offered it to you. “PUT IT ON. I WILL ADJUST IT AS NEEDED AFTER.” 

You froze, intently focusing on the simple article of cloth. Was he expecting you to do it here and now? In front of him? Wasn’t it bad enough you were laid bare in front of all those on the deck, or stars, when you pressed yourself against Blue? At least Axe had good reason to see you. Multiple! To willingly undress now in the presence of a man other than your husband...  

By the angel, what would Axe think of all this? 

Black must have noticed your silent panicked uncertainty when you didn’t immediately take it. Clearing his throat, something in his tone changed. “I SHALL, OF COURSE, REFRAIN FROM LOOKING WHILE YOU DO SO. YOU MAY LEAVE MY BROTHER’S COAT ON THE CHAIR WHEN YOU ARE READY.” 

It was hard not to squirm. While that was greatly appreciated, it still felt uncomfortable. Could you trust his word? You hardly knew the man. Perhaps things may have felt different if the room wasn’t quite so stifling or the door hadn’t been shut so suddenly. 

Luckily, heavy thumps in the hall distracted Black enough for him to hand you the garment himself, squinting at the door behind him. He was just about to speak again when another set of thumps sounded, this time shaking the door. Growling, he finally turned when the muffled voices following the noise got angrier. 

You really didn’t want to do this right now. Not here. Not with all the uncertainties surrounding you.  

Taking a slow breath in, you let it out. The sooner you changed, the sooner you could be rid of these unsettling feelings. With unsteady fingers twitching against the fabric as you took one last glance at Black’s back. 

One more breath. 

The sound of your rattling bones was louder without the security of the coat. Placing it on the chair, you did your best to quickly dress.  

The feeling of fabric against your bones was surprisingly comforting as you pulled it over your head. True to Axe’s size, the shirt almost went to your knees. It was so large the fabric pooled on your much smaller frame and reminded you of the nightgowns you used to wear back at the manor. 

If only it wasn’t so short. 

Though your more private areas were covered, it was not good for a lady to show so much… leg. You tugged at the hem, the sleeves threatening to engulf your hands.  

“I’m dressed, my lord.” 

A calculated breath was your only answer before his eyelights found you, fuzzy with a slight warble. You had to second guess if you had seen them correctly, for the next moment they were back to their bright and sharp orbs. Getting closer, they traveled over you as he hummed, the heel of his boots clicking as he circled. If you had hair, it would have stood on end at the subtle brush of his hand against your back. 

“AS I EXPECTED.” 

You startled, yelping when he came around to lightly grip your hips. Instinctively, your hands came to your chest from the forwardness, sockets wide. He paid no mind, eyelights intent on the bunched fabric. He only let go to pull a satin rope from his pocket. 

You squeaked again when he reached around you to wrap it around your waist. 

“MUCH BETTER. HOWEVER," His gloved hands touched your elbows, slowly moving up your arms to grasp your hands for inspection. “YOUR MAGIC. IT IS MUCH TOO THIN…” He turned them over. “Hmmmmm. Knowing Him…” 

Your chest clenched. He was close enough you could feel his ambient heat and wisps of breath. 

Before Black could say or do anything else, his door nearly burst off its hinges, a very aggravated Axe forcing it open. Black pulled you into him with a snarl, eyelights vanishing with the click of his teeth. Stuck in a headlock was a disgruntled Rus, resigned to the hold around his neck. 

You didn’t know if you could physically handle any more stress.  

“BY THE ANGEL, YOU WILL REPLACE THAT LOCK IF YOU HAVE BROKEN IT!” 

Axe’s voice was low, grin tight as he took in the scene. “Don’t appreciate the closed door, Black. Hell ya think yer doin’ in here?” 

Black placed you behind him, grumbling a growl. “AS I STATED EARLIER, I HAVE GIVEN HER SOMETHING TO ADEQUATELY COVER HERSELF UNTIL WE CAN PROCURE SOMETHING MORE FITTING.”  

Axe narrowed his sockets at Black’s squared shoulders. For a split second, you could see the red orb of his eyelight flick over the man in front of you before it focused on you.  

“Sure that's all ya were doin’?” 

The fabric of Black’s gloves creaked. “IF YOU MUST KNOW, I WAS INSPECTING HER MAGIC FLOW. I’M NO EXPERT, BUT EVEN I CAN TELL IT’S RUNNING LOW. A MORE IMPORTANT QUESTION WOULD BE, WHY HAVEN’T YOU—” 

“I’ve been doin’ exactly what I need ta be. Don’t need ta explain myself either.” Rus stumbled into the room when Axe unceremoniously released him to motion to you. “Now, if yer done?” 

With a snarl, Black pointed a finger. “NOW SEE HERE YOU–” 

Instinctually, you reached out, stopping just before Black’s arm. “My lord, I!” You faltered at his abrupt attention, pulling back to dip your head in respect. “I thank you for your kindness, but I should return to my lord husband before any more misunderstandings occur.” 

His eyelights stuttered. “I, I BEG YOUR PARDON?” 

There was a beat of awkward silence before Axe broke into heavy laughter, the loudest and deepest you’ve heard from him. It was enough to warm your cheeks as he beckoned you out and away from the room. Black gaped, slack-jawed and sputtering as you passed. You were already being guided onto the deck by the time he was able to call out one last time from his doorway. 

“AXE! YOU WILL�� THAT… YOU WILL EXPLAIN YOURSELF!” 

Axe only laughed harder, closing the doors behind you. 

The sun had mostly set by the time you stepped out into the humid sea air. You would have done anything in the past to be able to look up, out, and around but Axe was swift in guiding you down the main hatch. You didn’t want to linger longer than necessary anyway. 

You didn’t have Rus’s coat to hide under. 

You were grateful for the darkness once you were under. The lanterns were farther spread, some empty of light altogether. It helped ease your mind against the wandering eyes. Most gathered under the brightest lamps, playing cards at makeshift tables, drinking, and socializing while others lounged in hammocks hanging interspersed between the canons. While some watched you pass, Axe was surprisingly good at slipping through the darkest areas to avoid the unwanted attention.  

The closer you got to the front of the ship, the fewer people there were until you came upon barrels and crates stacked near and around an area quartered off by familiar heavy sheets. You could even recognize the stack you and Blue had hidden next to, the sheet on that side still halfway pulled down. Axe was kind enough to hold the flap for you to enter. 

Finally, you were able to relax the tension out of your shoulders and pained joints. You wanted to climb back into the hammock and rest your aching pelvis, maybe snuggle against Axe and his warmth. The way he moved about though had you gingerly sitting on his stool, setting it upright from where it had been knocked over. 

You wondered when that had occurred. What happened after you had been taken? 

... 

A quiet curse had you looking back at Axe as he re-fastened the makeshift wall. There were a few more rips in it than you remembered. If he had any sewing supplies, you would have to mend them. It was the least you could do as thanks. 

You let out a slow breath, peering down at your clenched fists. They were cold and stiff on your lap. Black had been interested in them. The lot of them had been interested in general, but he had seemed so focused. 

Your voice was soft, hesitant as you summoned the courage to speak. “Axe? I have so many questions, but I’m afraid… I don’t know if I’m allowed to ask.” 

Axe chuckled. “Don’t gotta be afraid with me, Dove. It’s good ta ask questions around here. The more ya know the better, good or bad. Don’t let anyone tell ya otherwise.” 

You picked at the hem of the shirt, smoothing it down as much as you could. “Is that true?" Axe simply grunted. Collecting yourself, you forced yourself to ask the questions burning your mind. "What is a Banthos? What does it mean to be one? And what did Black mean when he said my magic was too thin? I don’t have magic. I’m not… I’m not even a monster.” 

It was hard not to flinch when, from your peripherals, you saw him stop. His voice had become more serious but thankfully still soft.  

“The hell yer not. Listen, I don’t know what you’ve been told, where ya come from, or what ya been through. But you’re as much of a monster as the rest of us. You’re made of magic and hope just like me.” He came over to place your hand in his scarred one, taking a knee to look directly into your sockets. “We’re the same. Dust and all. It don’t matter about anything else. As fer your magic,” he rubbed his face with a frustrated sigh, “let me worry about that. Just know ya got it and I’m gonna make damn sure ta get it where it needs ta be.” 

You didn’t know what to say to that, but it sent a comforting feeling to your chest. He was always so warm. It reminded you of your mother.  

Nodding, you were about to ask about your first question when footsteps interrupted you. Axe stood, moving between you and the flap.  

“AXE, IT IS GETTING LATE. I HAVE TAKEN THE LIBERTY OF PREPARING SANS’ ROOM FOR THE LITTLE MISS. I HOPE YOU HAVEN’T FORGOTTEN.”  

Axe only slightly relaxed at the sound of Papyrus’ voice, not moving but calling out to the other skeleton. “I can take her when we’re ready. Just got a few–” he bristled when Papyrus entered and smiled down at you, hand twitching at his side –“more things ta take care of.” 

“AND WHAT MIGHT THAT BE SO I MAY HELP?” When Axe only grumbled, Papyrus took it upon himself to continue. “WELL, WHILE YOU FIGURE THINGS OUT, I SHALL MAKE SURE TO GET HER SAFELY TO HER NEW LODGINGS.” 

You both tensed. “Papyrus. Paps. At least let things settle before ya drag er away. You saw Sans. I don’t trust him.” 

Papyrus looked a little sheepish at the accusation. “I UNDERSTAND YOUR CONCERN, BUT I HAVE FAITH THAT THIS WILL WORK. I MYSELF WILL KEEP AN EYE ON THINGS IF I MUST. He Means Well. NOT THAT, THAT IS AN EXCUSE FOR HIS TERRIBLE BEHAVIOR.” He came forward to place a hand on Axe’s shoulder, humble and pleading. “WON’T YOU AT LEAST TRUST ME?” 

You couldn’t place the look that crossed Axe’s face from the question, the red orb of his eyelight quaking until his free hand brushed the edges of his empty socket. “That’s cheat’n…” There was a heaviness to the silence.  

When Axe’s shoulders sagged, Papyrus gave him back his space. “All WILL BE WELL. I’M SURE OF IT.” 

You were uncertain as to what you needed to do, but before you could stand, Axe nudged you back down. With the reluctance of a stubborn cat, he then went about gathering items he had deemed yours, going so far as draping his favored blanket over your shoulders. When all was said and done, you were left with a surprisingly intricate box full of puzzles, Axe’s blanket, and an affectionate nuzzle to your neck.  

It was with a heavy heart and a glowing face that you eventually followed Papyrus back out into the darkness. 

You did your best to keep up with his long strides, missing Axe’s purposely slowed gait. You could feel the grinding strain on your pelvis and lower joints with each step. You focused on the clack of your feet to keep your mind off the aching. Papyrus was already several steps ahead of you when he got to the steps.  

Blessedly, he turned to wait for you. 

It was embarrassing how out of breath you had become from such a short distance, especially when you knew you didn’t technically need to breathe. You were even more so when Papyrus cocked his head to look you over with a contemplative hum. 

His smile was kind. “MY APOLOGIES MISS. I KNEW YOU WERE IN ROUGH SHAPE, BUT I HADN’T REALIZED…” He glanced up the steps. “PERHAPS IT WOULD BE BETTER FOR ME TO HELP.” 

Without so much as a warning, he picked you up and draped you across both of his arms. You almost dropped your box, squeaking in surprise as he ascended to the deck. Your mind and tongue had stopped working from the suddenness. Though Axe had carried you once before and had moved you a few times, you didn’t quite know what to think of this stranger picking you up so nonchalantly. It was as if it was the most normal thing in the world for him, smile just as polite and kind as before. 

With him carrying you, it took little time to cross the rest of the way back through the double doors and down to the end of the hall. Standing in front of the windowed doors, you were only jostled a little when he turned the knob. He used his boot to kick it open the rest of the way with a bang, making you flinch when the glass shook precariously. 

You thought you saw a flash of blue, but when you looked, there was nothing there but a railed raised platform with an extravagant-looking bed, windows lining the entirety of the back wall. 

You shuddered. It smelled overwhelmingly of snow and cold rain. 

Scrunching his nasal ridge, Papyrus walked around a heavy round table with a scattering of papers and a lantern. Stepping onto the platform, he carefully set you down, turning to furiously rip the blankets off the bed to ball and fling them across the room with a fwump. 

“FORGIVE MY IDIOT OF A BROTHER. I WILL BE HAVING A TALK WITH HIM ABOUT APPROPRIATE BEHAVIOR LATER. FOR NOW, I’M AFRAID THIS WILL HAVE TO DO. AT LEAST THE BED IS EXCEPTIONALLY COMFORTABLE.” He put his hand down to pat the mattress. “IT IS A GIMBAL BED, MADE WITH LARGER MONSTERS IN MIND SO YOU WILL HAVE PLENTY OF SPACE AND WON’T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT THE TIPPING OF THE SHIP.” 

When you didn’t move, he gently ushered you to sit before making his way to the windows. It was so dark now that the light from the lamp effectively turned them into mirrors. You were grateful, too afraid to look through them. To your relief, Papyrus closed the many curtains for each once. Once done, he gently took your box and stood at the end of the bed, bowing slightly from the waist. 

“I WOULD STAY TO HELP YOU SETTLE, BUT I UNFORTUNATELY HAVE OTHER DUTIES I NEED TO TAKE CARE OF AT THIS TIME. BUT DO NOT FEAR, I WILL MAKE SURE SOMEONE WILL BE BY IN THE MORNING TO BRING YOU SOME TEA AND BREAKFAST AND TO WELCOME YOU.” Walking away, he stopped to place your box on the table and extinguish the lantern. “SLEEP WELL MISS.”  

With a wave, he picked up the bundle of discarded blankets and walked out the door, closing it behind him. 

… 

It was frightening, alone in the dark.

Previous Next SOH Master Grandmaster

[jamevaa]

I love how the full brunt of Sam's rage runs completely frozen, as opposed to how Dean flares up. Everything is obsessively even and symmetrical. He practically made art out of his weapon storage, ffs. His guns are ordered by size, in addition to being mirrored.

Just look at that wall. He used the wall tiles as guides. The map is occupying equal sections of squares; papers are all level, with even margins. And it's over the bed, of all places, hard to access and where normally you'd hang artwork or something.

The books on the table are squared and aligned with the binder edges. The hand towel in the bathroom is folded in precise thirds and hung exactly in the middle. No housekeeping will have stepped into this room either, not with that wall, so we know that's all Sam.

The more I watch this scene, the more I applaud set design for nailing the details. It shows a fascinating opposition in their characters, but also how they need to be together to be human. When separated, it's like they each only have one half of the human condition, and they need to be together to be whole and functional.

[enteroctopusdarkysilis]

✨Kamino’s citadel challenge !✨

I am…very excited about this one. I’ve had this vision for a long time, and I’m so happy it’s ended up looking like that.

Now, there are a lot of things I’ll go into details along close ups under the cut; the only thing I’ll mention above is that I’m very grateful for TCW’s episode guides’ artworks, without which this would have been quite a hassle.

Okay ! Before diving into all the details and things, here is a view from above, to really display how big it is. Dimension-wise, the plank I built it on is around 110*70cm.

Now of course, the first detail which is noticeable is the floor, because, well, it’s everywhere.

This was probably the most challenging part of the build, because making a grid out of Lego is tough. Most of it is rows and rows of dark square, light lines, separated by 1*n tiles. It was the easiest way to get this pattern with as if it were just tiles; because this is one of the objectives I had here : most of this MOC is smooth, except for a few zones (usually voluntarily).

The fact I used this technic means that the floor in most place isn’t very stable, but it actually holds up pretty well because of some hidden connection points with the foundations underneath, which are mostly hidden under the cover blocks.

Here for instance, I’m using modified 1*2 bricks with a Technic hole : it hold the cover block, and it also attaches the floor to the foundation.

Of course, another problem I ran into were slopes. Much harder to get a smooth effect with the technic I’ve used, so it’s a bit wonky and unstable. Also, most them are not aligned properly, which is visible in the picture above (and some area have some really big misalignments because of a few problems I probably won’t bore anyone reading this with).

Now, since they’re also here, I can deal with the cover blocks. These were, among the details, the hardest to figure out, to get a good size while keeping some texture. Eventually I came up with this design, which, ironically enough, uses the same technic the floor uses, in a different orientation.

Another detail : the miradors :

This is one of the first elements I had in place, because I needed them to get a good sense of scale (and was made better by an existing concept art of a tower alone). Most of it does not have anything noteworthy, except for one illegal technic I used (can you spot it ?)

The pillar holding the roof of the mirador is using a technic I had in my toolbox for a long time, but had never had the occasion to use : if you take two 'brick' bricks and attach them perpendicularly on a snot brick, the small space separating the lines of 'bricks' align to let a 1*n tile in. It’s somewhat reliable (for an illegal technic) and an easy way to get octogonal shapes.

Now, before looking at the Citadel itself, let’s turn around for a minute.

This point of view obviously isn’t the intended one, but it’s still worth noting, if only for some composition.

Notice that the wall here is quite small (smaller than the miradors, even), and light gray; it’s in contrast with the towering dark gray wall on the other side, behind the citadel, which technically should give at least some impressions even to the people who never saw TCW.

Anyway, it’s also on this view that we can see most of my slope struggles, including the central one, which is the biggest I had to do.

And I can’t not mention the most important element :

What would be the challenge without a squad of clones to take it on ? These clones (4 privates and a sergent) are ready to fight ! Well. Kinda. I wish I could have actual cadets, but they are not part of the Lego universe (and the floor was enough of a fee, I can’t afford to get customs figures too). I wish I had the Dominos though. I have TBB Echo, and I plan to get my hands on Fives at some point, but they wouldn’t fit here, sadly, so instead I used some movie accurate clones (because all the others are used for a project I still haven’t posted..maybe later…)

Notably, I at some point tried to get the elevator to work - needless to say it was a disaster (it’s too close to the plate underneath to make something working).

Now, without further ado. The citadel.

I’m very proud of it. I got the proportions just right (I actually made some measurements to make sure of it), and there is just enough texture to not make it bland while leaving it as artificial. This alone took roughly 8-10h (which were all spent during an accidental all nighter, whoops), but it was worth it. It’s completely empty inside, and, in fact, the wall behind it isn’t full as well, anything behind the citadel is opened. The spikes are simple 1*3 angle plates illegally connected, and the walls’ small details were made with a bunch of modified 1*2 plates, there isn’t anything really special in it.

The only really complicated zone was the middle tower, because I had to put all the cannons while keeping it clean and smooth, and including the vertical lime lines. It was a fun challenge. And I included the 'flag' At the top, too, just a red transparent cone on a stick (there’s no need for more), which peeks above the gray wall (for composition and because of a lack of pieces).

Anyway, such a long project deserves one behind the scene photo :

Yes, my desk is messy (and include my mandatory tea cup).

On the left, you can see my remaining floor tiles, which have not been used yet; and just under the citadel, you might notice the foundations visible; it’s a checker of 2*2 tiles which gives my floor a good base to be fixed on. There are also some slopes which haven’t been placed yet (in front of the background miradors), and at this steps, there were no cover blocks or walls yet.

As far as my tools go, you might notice brick separators scattered all around my work environment (I never have enough of those), as well as a tablet in the bottom right hand corner (which i use to check and measure concept arts), and in the middle, the red triangle is an official (albeit old) Lego measurement tool which counts in stud, Lego bar holes and axe length.

Also visible, finally, is the bottom of the foundations, which are stacks of 1*2 bricks (each of the three floor layer is separated by a height of 3 bricks), which means that looking directly under it can lead to watching the dark basement of my build (which isn’t aesthetic…).

Anyway, if you read until here, thanks, I guess ? I still have a few TCW related stuff (a small one next week, some other in the foreseeable feature), so feel free to stick around and maybe leave a note, if you feel like it ? That’s it, bye !

[c4llahansgirl]

peace

pairings . art donaldson x fem!reader

cw . pegging, use of “mama”, loud art

a/n . pegging lover art endgame. cockslut art endgame. also this has a specific audience (one of my favs.) and if it doesn’t reach said audience somehow someway ill cry

the suggestion came insecurely, yet impulsively. it was a quick, small little suggestion that forced itself off your tongue but it was a thought that’d plagued your fantasies for weeks.

“wh- what?” art stuttered out, he wasn’t sure if he heard you right, but he also wasn’t sure if he misheard you, if so what.

you clear your throat, blinking a few times as you stared down at your intertwined legs. you ask louder, making eye contact this time.

that was 40 minutes ago. art’s chest heaved up and down with every nervous huff he took, squirming lightly as he was forced down, his head pushed against the flush pillows. his back was arched, ass stuck up in the air as you ran your hands up and down his back, soothing his nerves. light kisses were pressed against his back as lubed fingers prodded his unused hole. you pushed them in slowly, still kissing him and soothing his soft skin as he mewled and whined.

you fingers stilled, small hickeys sucked into his skin as you let him adjust. eventually, art started squirming again and that was your sign to pull out, then push back in. art bit the pillow beneath him, holding back his whimpers.

a slow and steady pace was set, his ass gently bouncing back against your fingers as you curl them, earning a loud moan from the boy. you giggle, pressing soft kisses to the hilt of his ass, pulling your fingers out of him gently. he whines, wriggling and hole begging to clench around something that was no longer there. his poor tip ached, precum dripping down onto the sheets, staining it. art whined and cried, begging for you to touch him again, the loss of your touch was torturous.

he turns to look at you, to cry out for you but is met with a soft smile splayed across your face as you carefully coat a purple strap on wrapped around your waist. it was of average size and average girth, but it made art’s palms sweat and a pit build in his stomach.

you position yourself behind art, guiding his arch down more and pressing the tip against his ass. his fingers curl into the sheets and his face hides in the pillow as he prepares himself. the tip prods and pushes at his hole, you watching in awe as inch by inch, art swallows your strap. it’s beautiful, everything about this was absolutely beautiful. the sweat glistening in droplets off his back, his ass perfectly arched to meet your hips. his pants and whines are music to your ears, and the way he manually soothes his nerves paint a smile across your lips.

your hand finds the hilt of his ass, slowly pulling out then pushing back in. his moans bounce off the walls and ring in your ears, sending a pulse to your pussy. you slowly find your pace, bouncing your hips against his ass and pushing against his cock. he cries, moaning pornographically and pushing back to meet your thrusts. his tip leaks and his cock bounces, his thighs begging to close. he begs and begs, crying for more and the bliss of release.

his stomach retracts and his legs tremble, thrusts getting sloppy against your hips. he babbles, variations of “ ‘m gonna cum mama, please let me cum” you stop your thrusts, tapping his ass and ordering him to flip over, you wanna watch him cum. he turns on his back, whining at the struggle. he smiles at you as you peck his lips, kissing down his chin.

you smile into his skin, kissing his neck and simultaneously pushing back into his hole. art gasps, back arching as your hands find his hips. you suck hickeys into his neck, returning to your pace. he cries, groaning loudly as your stomach rubbed against his neglected cock. it bounces, hitting against both your chests and once you hit a certain spot deep inside him, spills and shoots sticky ropes over your skin. you coo, talking him through his orgasm as he mewls and cries.

you still, pulling out slowly and letting him cling to you and fall on your chest. he spills thank yous and i love yous until hw drifts off to sleep, chest still heaving up and down, heart rapidly beating, and sweat still pooling on his soft skin, but he is at peace.

[vanishedinvain]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒'𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈 𝐃𝐈𝐄

—𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞: 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader (but she doesn't show up yet, sorry lol)

summary: benedict's last moment of contentment before the storm that marooned his dreams.

warnings: very very brief mention of a gun, baby's first fic (it's me, i'm baby)

wc: 1.6k

next chapter // series masterlist

The Wiminet Art House sits just outside the limits of Mayfair, owned by the Dowager Baroness Lyra Wiminet. It is only half the size of a wing at Somerset House, and most of the artists are either anonymous or so unknown, they are as good as anonymous. It crams in an overwhelming number of pieces, barely a centimeter between each frame. It features a myriad of styles: soft landscapes, portraits, absurd finger-paintings, violent war scenes. 

When it first opened, every London newspaper dismissed it as the eccentricity of a widow, mad without a man to guide her. There was no cohesion, they said. Downright tasteless. Where was the class? The refinement? It was a laughingstock for all of two days before the ton moved on as they always did.

It was also Benedict Bridgerton’s most frequented gallery. And Eloise had no idea why.

“You have been here at least twenty times in the past year, and they have only changed a single painting,” Eloise pointed out on one of these trips. Though she did not prefer to visit the same blasted gallery with the same blasted paintings, it was more merciful than watching Daphne and their mother flit about the house searching for the perfect dress to secure a proposal from the Prussian prince.

Plus her brother promised to buy her an apricot ice afterwards.

“What could possibly be left to see?” she asked.

They were standing in front of a rather large seascape, one that spanned a quarter of the wall. Benedict turned away to look at Eloise, a grimace upon her face as she tried to see what her brother saw. It was a quality Benedict most appreciated in her; she was stubborn and quick to snark, but she never wrote off his interests as frivolous. She was attempting to understand, even if she was staring at the painting like it personally offended her.  

“Do you remember when you were eleven and Colin brought home that mystery novel for all of us? The one where an opera singer was killed in the middle of a show.”

“An Aria Most Deadly,” she recalled, smiling, “I couldn’t put it down. Col was scolded for bringing home such a—how did Mama word it?—terribly gruesome and improper book.”

He chuckled, remembering their mother’s scandalized face. As Colin was being scolded, she had set the book down on the settee. Eloise, ever nimble, snatched it and ran up to her room with nary a scuff across the floor.

“You re-read it over and over, looking for the clues, even after you’d finished it days prior. A snide comment from the stagehand that was once humorous turned dark. The author’s insistence on describing the location of the candelabra suddenly became obvious.”

“The details were so much clearer in hindsight,” she remarked.

“That is usually the privilege of hindsight.” He gestured back to the painting in front of them. “What do you see?”

She stared for a moment, tilting her head to one side to see if a change in angle would help. It was a turbulent scene, violent even, with outbursts of red and orange screaming amongst the cerulean and imposing slate clouds as the ship went down.

“A shipwreck?” Eloise answered with a shrug. “An unfortunately timed storm?”

Benedict stepped back, and grabbed Eloise by the shoulders, shifting her to the right so that she could stand in his place. “Do you see that spot of red on the ship?”

She squinted slightly. “Clearly, a fire broke out on the ship. Likely from the gunpowder catching on the wood. I mean, it says it in the title, Ship on Fire in Water,” she said, reading off the plaque underneath.

“But look closer at this spot of red at the front of the ship. Or that one by the captain’s quarters. Compare it to how the artist paints the flames,” Benedict insisted, gesturing to each area of interest. “He or she blends out the flames with orange and a bit of yellow usually. But these particular spots aren’t. They’re blended with brown. Maybe even a bit of black. That’s not fire, is it?”

Her eyebrows raised as the realization dawned on her. “It’s blood! Someone was killed. The captain, maybe?” She turned back to look at him in unbridled excitement at the newly-uncovered narrative.

Benedict smiled widely, crinkles forming around his eyes, watching his little sister finally get it, get him. “Possibly.”

“What do you think was the motive? Was it a mutiny?”

He shrugged. “That I am unsure of, dear sister. Every time I come back, I see something new. So, perhaps we need to look at it longer. Or make our rounds and come back with fresh eyes.”

Eloise had bounded off before he even finished.

They spent another two hours in the gallery, making little comments on each one, attempting to decipher a story from it. They even requested a step-ladder for the ones that had been skied because Benedict, having met Lady Wiminet, knew that there was no rhyme or reason as to the placement of each painting.

There was a most brilliant park scene about half a meter down from the ceiling. The artist did not draw a realistic, soft sunset, but a heightened one with punchy plums and a bright tangerine shade to blend. It was a bold choice that Benedict would’ve never thought of. The scene itself was of a promenade, much to Eloise’s displeasure, but she found amusement in mapping out the interpersonal relationships of the swans in the lake.

They made their way back to the bloodied, fiery ship shipwreck, standing in amicable silence before Eloise spoke.

“I understand it now. Why you've been here twenty times. Why you sketch until your fingers shake at dinner, but then use your drawings as fire kindle at night. You’re chasing greatness.”

“I want to get one of mine on these walls one day, El,” he said quietly, as if they weren’t the only people in the room. It was the first time he had admitted that ambition out loud.

“You will,” she replied, equally quiet back.

He sighed in relief. He wasn’t worried about Eloise’s reaction, though her vote of confidence was cherished. He was worried about being so unworthy that the words would refuse to roll off his tongue, lodging in his throat as a croak. But the idea was out there now, and a mirthful giddiness sprouted forth in the soil where his insecurities were rooted.

“I’d be anonymous, though,” he added after a pause.

She frowned, but neither of them made further comments on the subject. He already understood what she didn't verbalize. She dreaded living and dying in anonymity without a university degree or prolific novel attached to her name, something to outlast her that wasn’t a dullard husband or terrifying child. She could not stand the thought that the world might feel zero impact from her existence. 

Benedict, however, was far less eager to sign his name on a canvas. He could be displayed in any gallery in England if he simply asked, regardless of whether he was even good enough. Who would dare criticize a Bridgerton painting, with nine generations of viscounts breathing down their necks? If he were to ever put his name on any of his work, he wanted—needed—to be so good that everyone would be too awestruck by what was in front of them to check whose name was etched onto the little copper plaque beneath the frame.

This was one of the only points of incongruence between the second eldest Bridgerton brother and sister that couldn’t be remedied by a simple anecdote or shift to the right. Though, perhaps there was no need for one; a painter would never ask a writer to adjust her palette and a writer would never tell a painter his meter was off-tempo.

It was an afternoon well spent away from the ornery obligations of the social season, coming home with their appetites spoiled from the promised apricot ices. Benedict grabbed An Aria Most Deadly from the library, and read the first few chapters before retiring for the night. He’d finished the novel after he pried it away from Eloise years ago, so he knew it was the conductor who had killed the opera singer. This knowledge only pulled the deftly placed clues into crisp focus upon this second reading; even the first chapter was littered with hints.

Perhaps that is why when he sits in the viscount’s study, the one that was never supposed to go to him, he often thinks about the night of Granville’s party. That night began with him feeling so alive, more alive than he could ever fathom. Yet, it ended with a sinking stone of dread taking up a months-long residence in the pit of his stomach.

Were there clues he should’ve seen?

If he’d been less drunk off the wine or the women or both, he’d have noticed Daphne wasn’t wearing the necklace gifted to her by the prince, even though he clocked the ostentatious clunk of jewelry when she left for the Trowbridge Ball. Or that the hem of her dress was muddy and her face was pinched, on the verge of tears.

If he wasn’t so preoccupied with how to take advantage of his freedoms as the spare of the family, he’d have noticed the blooming violet bruises on Anthony’s knuckles as he yanked Benedict into the study with considerable force.

It wasn’t until he was rolling his shoulder, about to complain that his arm could've been popped out of its socket, when the gun box was placed on the desk with a resounding thud. 

Things only clicked into place as Anthony began frantically talking about estates and dowries and an appointment with the duke at dawn, but there were signs from the moment he walked in the door.

The details were always so much clearer in hindsight.

next chapter // series masterlist

a/n: they dropped new abc pictures last month, and i decided to make it everyone else's problem by starting this fic. now it’s bridgerton eve!!! rejoice!!!

[blueiscoool]

The Tomb of a Royal Scribe Discovered in Egypt

Czech experts have made another important discovery in the Egyptian archaeological site in Abusir. They found the hitherto unexplored tomb of the royal scribe Dzhehutiemhat, which is richly decorated in the form of many hieroglyphic texts and images. They mainly consist of ritual and religious texts, which were supposed to ensure the soul of the deceased an eternal life in the next world.

In April and May of this year, another part of field research by Czech Egyptologists regarding shaft tombs from the middle of the first millennium BC took place in Abusir, Egypt. It was here that the archaeological team of the Czech Institute of Egyptology of the Faculty of Arts of Charles University discovered the tomb of a hitherto unknown dignitary from the time of the Persian invasion of Egypt.

“It is a richly decorated shaft tomb of medium size, whose owner, a certain Džehutiemhat, held the office of royal scribe,” explains Ladislav Bareš, who has been coordinating the research of Abusir shaft tombs for a long time.

From the tomb, the above-ground part of which was destroyed already in ancient times, only the main shaft was preserved, at the bottom of which lay a burial chamber made of limestone blocks at a depth of 14 meters. Access to it was provided by a small, more northerly shaft and a narrow corridor approximately three meters long connecting the access shaft with the burial chamber.

For reasons still unknown, this access shaft was largely filled with several dozen decorated limestone blocks, originating from the dismantled above-ground part of the nearby majestic tomb of General Menechibnekon.

A tomb with rich decoration

The burial chamber is richly decorated with texts and other scenes. A long sequence of incantations against snakebite from the Pyramid Texts covers the north entrance wall. Interestingly, the snakes mentioned in these magical texts represented a potential danger, but could also serve as powerful protectors of the deceased and his mummy.

“While the entrance to the nearby Menechibnekon’s burial chamber was protected by the guardians of the gates of the 144th chapter of the Book of the Dead, in the case of Džehutiemhat, snakes from the Pyramid Texts play this role,” adds Renata Landgráfová, director of the Institute of Egyptology and an expert on the ancient Egyptian language and texts.

The south and west walls are covered with a sacrificial ritual and an extensive sacrificial list. On the ceiling of the burial chamber are depictions of the journey of the sun god Reo through the sky, first in the morning and then in the evening celestial bar. The depictions are accompanied by hymns to the rising and setting sun. Inside the burial chamber covered with relief decoration is a large stone sarcophagus, which also bears hieroglyphic inscriptions and depictions of gods, both outside and inside. The lid is decorated with texts taken from the Book of the Dead, but also excerpts from the much older Pyramid Texts, which partially repeat sayings that also appear on the walls of the burial chamber.

Ritual texts for eternal life

On the bottom of the inner wall of the sarcophagus bath, the goddess of the west, Imentet, is depicted, and its inner sides bear the so-called canopic sayings, spoken by this goddess and the earth god Geb. “The goddess of the west inside the sarcophagus represents the protector, guide and symbolic mother of the deceased,” explains Jiří Janák, who analyzes and interprets religious and magical texts as part of field research.

All the mentioned spiritual-ritual texts were supposed to ensure the deceased a smooth entry into a blissful and well-secured eternal life in the afterlife.

The tomb of the scribe Dzhehutiemhat was discovered almost empty, as it was robbed probably already in the 5th century AD, similar to other tombs in this burial ground.

The deceased suffered from sedentary work

From the anthropological analysis of the skeletal remains, which was carried out by leading Egyptian experts, it was found that Dzhehutiemhat died at a relatively early age of around 25 years, he bore the signs of a kind of occupational disease (wear and tear of the spine during sedentary work) and suffered from severe osteoporosis, i.e. thinning of the bones.

The latter fact could place him in the family of other inhabitants of the Abusir shaft tomb burial, in whom the disease was also confirmed, such as the famous Iufaa, the owner of a nearby much larger tomb, whose unlooted burial chamber was discovered in 1996.

It is therefore possible that most of the owners of the tombs buried in this part of the Abusir necropolis belonged to one extended family, firmly anchored in the military elite of late Saiyan Egypt. However, Dzhehutiemhat’s mother probably came from completely different circles and a different part of Egypt at that time. Her two names can be translated as “Nubian” and “Fox”, while the latter is written in an unusual, most likely Berber form.

They also found a collection of pottery in the tomb. “The discovery of a large fragment of a Chian amphora with a perfectly smoothed edge is also very interesting, because the ancient looters probably used it as a shovel,” says Květa Smoláriková, who is an expert on Egyptian ceramics and Greek imports in the Czech team.

“The recently discovered tomb of the dignitary Džehutiemhat on the Abusír archaeological concession is the latest piece of knowledge in the mosaic of the history of ancient Egypt at the end of its glory in the late period, in the 6th century BC,” says Miroslav Bárta, director of Czech archaeological research in Abusír, about the discovery.

“The shaft tombs represent a special type of tombs of this time. They were created as a specific attempt by the ancient Egyptian elites for a renaissance and are based on the form of the tomb of King Djoser, the founder of the famous Old Kingdom, the time of the pyramid builders in the 3rd millennium BC,” he adds.

[urdreamydoodles]

X-men x Reader x Reader's Dog (Part.2)

How they handle your relationship with your dog (Part.2)

Yes... Mr. Pickles..again! (I love these headcanons so much, I'm sorry) These headcanons explore how eight famous X-Men interact with both you, their partner, and your small, not-so-bright dog, Mr. Pickles.

Characters: Emma Frost, Kitty Pryde, Rogue, Colossus, Warren Worthington III, Erik Lehnsherr, Laura Kinney & Charles Xavier

Emma Frost:

- At first, Emma finds Mr. Pickles somewhat beneath her—she’s used to luxury and elegance, and Mr. Pickles is, well, a goofy little dog with no real sense of sophistication. But over time, even the White Queen can’t resist his innocent charm. She’ll roll her eyes and sigh dramatically, but you’ve caught her cradling Mr. Pickles in her arms like a prized possession more than once.

- Emma telepathically keeps Mr. Pickles out of trouble when he gets into mischief, subtly guiding him away from precarious situations. You never really know how Mr. Pickles avoids disasters—like not falling off the balcony—but Emma just smiles slyly and changes the subject.

- Despite her initial reluctance, Emma begins treating Mr. Pickles like a little prince, often dressing him in designer dog outfits and expensive collars. She makes sure he looks his best when in public, often saying, “If he’s going to be seen with me, he must at least have some style.”

Kitty Pryde:

- Kitty absolutely adores Mr. Pickles from the moment she meets him. She’s a big dog person, and she thinks his cluelessness is part of his charm. Kitty will often phase through walls just to surprise Mr. Pickles, and she giggles every time he gets excited when she suddenly appears out of nowhere.

- Kitty spoils Mr. Pickles, always showing up with a new toy or treat for him. The two of them play together constantly, with Kitty making little obstacle courses or using her phasing powers to make the games even more entertaining. Mr. Pickles gets excited whenever she’s around, bounding toward her with his wagging tail.

- She affectionately refers to Mr. Pickles as “her little buddy” and is always ready to watch him if you’re busy. Kitty fully supports your relationship with him and even jokes that she might adopt her own dog one day—though she’s sure no dog could ever be quite as lovable as Mr. Pickles.

Rogue:

- Rogue is a little wary of Mr. Pickles at first, not because she dislikes dogs but because she’s worried about accidentally hurting him with her powers. You reassure her constantly, but she still keeps her distance for a while. Eventually, she relaxes enough to let him sit by her, and soon enough, Mr. Pickles is curled up on her lap.

- Once she gets used to him, Rogue finds Mr. Pickles incredibly cute. She often watches him run around with an amused smile, and she loves how much joy he brings you. Rogue even makes little knitted sweaters for him to wear during the colder months, often teasing you, “Ah hope he appreciates all this fashion work, sugar.”

- Mr. Pickles, naturally, adores Rogue, and even though she’s careful, he always tries to get her attention. Rogue finds herself talking to him in her soft Southern accent, calling him “darlin’” and “sweet boy” as he flops down beside her during quiet moments.

Colossus (Piotr Rasputin):

- Piotr is immediately taken with Mr. Pickles, finding the dog’s small size and silly demeanor amusing. He’s so large compared to Mr. Pickles that he’s extra careful whenever the dog is around, treating him like a fragile little thing. He’ll sometimes pick Mr. Pickles up with one hand and chuckle at how weightless the dog is in comparison.

- Piotr has a gentle, nurturing nature, so he treats Mr. Pickles with the utmost kindness. You’ll often find the two of them napping together, with Mr. Pickles sprawled out on Piotr’s massive chest, snoozing peacefully. It’s a sight that never fails to warm your heart.

- Piotr likes to create little pieces of art for Mr. Pickles, whether it’s a painted portrait of the dog or a small sculpture. He’s proud of his work and enjoys capturing the dog’s “unique personality.” Whenever he presents one of his creations, he’ll say, “For our little friend,” with a warm smile, and you can tell he’s grown just as fond of Mr. Pickles as you are.

Warren Worthington III (Angel):

- Warren is initially indifferent toward Mr. Pickles. He’s used to living a glamorous, high-society life, so a small, not-so-smart dog wasn’t exactly in his plans. But after seeing how much you adore Mr. Pickles, Warren softens. He’s the kind of partner who will buy the dog luxury bedding, gourmet treats, and custom-made collars because, “If he’s part of your life, he deserves the best.”

- Despite his aloof attitude, Warren secretly spoils Mr. Pickles. He’s taken the dog on private jet flights, giving him a first-class experience that most humans could only dream of. You often joke that Mr. Pickles lives a more extravagant life than most people, and Warren just smirks, saying, “He’s part of our family, after all.”

- Over time, Warren grows fond of Mr. Pickles’ goofy, clueless demeanor. The dog’s lack of intelligence makes him laugh, especially when Mr. Pickles tries to chase Warren’s wings as they flutter. “He’s not the brightest, but I suppose that’s part of his charm,” Warren says with a chuckle.

Magneto (Erik Lehnsherr):

- Erik is not easily impressed by much, and Mr. Pickles is no exception. Initially, he doesn’t understand your attachment to such a small, seemingly helpless creature. However, he respects your love for the dog and, over time, comes to see Mr. Pickles as a symbol of your compassion and humanity.

- Though Erik doesn’t outwardly express affection for Mr. Pickles, he’s subtly protective of him. On more than one occasion, you’ve noticed Erik using his magnetic powers to move metal objects out of the dog’s way when he’s about to run into something. He’ll never admit it, but Erik has a soft spot for the little dog because he knows how much Mr. Pickles means to you.

- Erik has a dry sense of humor when it comes to Mr. Pickles. He often remarks, “If only the world’s problems were as simple as this dog’s mind.” But when he sees you smile at his sarcastic quips, Erik can’t help but be grateful that Mr. Pickles brings you so much joy in an otherwise dark world.

Laura Kinney (X-23/Wolverine):

- Laura is not used to small, vulnerable creatures, so Mr. Pickles is a bit of an enigma to her at first. She’s hyper-aware of how fragile he is, and for a while, she keeps her distance, not wanting to accidentally hurt him. But after seeing how much you love Mr. Pickles, Laura slowly begins to warm up to the idea of having a small dog around.

- Over time, Laura becomes incredibly protective of Mr. Pickles. She keeps a close eye on him when he’s wandering around, making sure he doesn’t get into trouble. “He’s helpless,” she’ll say matter-of-factly, but it’s clear that she’s grown attached to him. She’s even gone so far as to use her enhanced senses to find him when he’s lost in the house.

- Laura starts to see Mr. Pickles as part of her small, chosen family. She’ll sit with him on her lap while sharpening her claws, and when you catch her being gentle with him, she’ll shrug and say, “He’s harmless. I don’t mind.” Despite her tough exterior, it’s clear that Laura cares deeply for both you and Mr. Pickles.

Charles Xavier:

- Charles is amused by your relationship with Mr. Pickles, seeing it as an extension of your kindness and empathy. He finds the little dog’s simplicity refreshing in a world filled with complex, troubled minds. Occasionally, Charles will check in on Mr. Pickles telepathically, smiling to himself when he senses nothing but pure, unfiltered joy.

- While Charles can’t physically interact with Mr. Pickles as easily as others, he enjoys watching the dog from afar. When Mr. Pickles gets into trouble, like trying to chew on furniture, Charles will calmly use his telepathy to guide the dog away from danger. “He means well,” Charles will say with a knowing smile whenever Mr. Pickles does something silly.

- Charles has a deep appreciation for how much happiness Mr. Pickles brings into your life. He often encourages you to take time for the dog, believing that such simple joys are important in maintaining a sense of balance and peace. “He’s a reminder of the little things that make life beautiful,” Charles often remarks, fully understanding why you treat Mr. Pickles like your child.

[sulumuns-dootah]

26. 10. Toys - Mammon

    ༺☆༻

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽Helltober '24☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

A/N: The kings are here! ^^

    ༺☆༻

Everything in Tartaros is so fancy. Even the adult toy stores are so pretty, you'd think you're shopping for expensive jewellery. Just hearing your shoes clacking on the white and golden marble makes you feel like someone important. Walking through, the display cases catch your attention with the way they reflect your outfit and draw attention to the various toys made out of real precious stones and metals.

The selection of shapes, sizes and functions is already impressive, and this is only the first story out of three. Apparently this one is for the common demons, judging from the way Mammon power walks and guides you along to the opulent staircase adorned with garlands of exotic flowers and plants. At a first glance, you'd think the steps are made out of glass, but you doubt there'd be glass strong enough to handle the king's weight.

Only after making a single step on the seemingly-fragile feature, all eyes in the store are on you. All those gazes would make you uncomfortable, if you weren't already. Even with how light and spacious the building was, you'd felt claustrophobic, scared to look around to not make an accidental eye-contact with some demon. Mammon, on the other hand couldn't care less. Even walking around, he'd study the things others were holding, as if they were only on a more interesting display.

Finally arriving to the second story, after so many steps that felt like a slight workout, you find yourself in an even more opulent room. Comparing in to downstairs, this one was even more glowy with all the gold. Unlike that one, however, the walls on this floor were black with golden accents, as opposed to white and gold. The dark paint made the gold more rich and the toys lined up along the wall stood out more.

“Ah, feel free to let loose, treasure. Just make sure to find your way back to me. Once you're done exploring, we've got to try our purchases upstairs in the private rooms.” Mammon mentions to the large room leading to others with his big hand and laughs. Undoubtedly at your big-eyed expression.

You're about to ask him something, but he's already walking away in one direction and you find yourself alone. Your first few steps are unsure, anxious even. Where do you go? Some of the displays don't even look like they hold sex toys, but some modern surrealist art.

Taking a deep breath, you try to steady your nerves and start walking in a direction, your intuition tells you to.

The first room your legs lead you to has all the lingerie your heart might desire. There are many mannequins in seductive positions, wearing some of the most beautiful pieces you've seen. Maybe you could use something new, since most of your lingerie gets damaged in one way or another with the way Mammon sometimes gets impatient.

One mannequin is displaying a set of belts with small chains hanging from them and already, in your mind, you imagine yourself wearing it for the king. Your hips swaying above his lap as his large hands roam your ass, urging you to finally make contact with his throbbing length.

Just the thought alone makes excitement run down to your nether regions. Grabbing the model from a drawer nearby, you rather carry on before anyone in the room manages to sense your beginning arousal.

The next room holds various BDSM equipment and the moment you enter, your mouth can't help but fill with saliva. The selection of paddles, restraints, gags and instruments is almost overbearing and you're not sure where to start.

With how busy this room is, the only display you're able to take closer look at, is the one with cuffs said to be able to restrain even the strongest demon in Hell.

A mental image of having Mammon fully restrained and blindfolded with his legs affixed to be fully spread appears in your mind. You imagine his huge thighs trembling as a bullet vibrator massages his prostate just enough to make his mind go blank after few minutes from the lack of any other stimulation. With his sight gone he won't be able to tell your next move, until you finally, after hours of such torture, start lovingly sucking on his tip and slowly taking in more and more of his painful erection into your mouth.

Breaking out of your vivid daydream, you shake your head and subtly look around if anyone's noticed your zoned out state. You look around for the cuffs and matching restrains you've seen in the display and finally manage to locate them.

Maybe you should've taken a basket, like Mammon suggested, since your hands are starting to get a bit full to be able to inspect some other potential purchases. Eh, too late to go back downstairs now.

Moving on you enter a room, which for a change has a maroon purple wall paint, containing a more to you familiar toys and gadgets.

The highlight of this room is a display containing dildos shaped exactly as the very own 7 kings of Hell's pubic area. You're not sure if they're all fully accurate, but they surely are spot on when it comes to the king of greed.

This makes you wonder, how it would feel having two of Mammon inside you at the same time. One is already an impressive stretch, so the other one might just as well fully ruin you.

“Interested in that one, are you? I know what you are wondering, and yes, I allowed them to use my cock to make a mould for this special edition set.” a deep voice materialises next to you as two strong hands plant themselves on your hips. You jump a little bit and accidentally bump into the demon behind you. In doing so, you can't help but feel the bulge on your lower back. Seems like you're not the only one who got excited from browsing the store.

“A-are you done shopping already?”

“I am, but if you want to keep looking, I can give you some time.” Mammon straightens out from bending down to your level, “But I'd rather meet you in the private room already. You see, I've found multiple things I'd like to try on you and I'm rather restless to see your reaction.”

You look down into your hands contemplatively, whether you're happy with your haul, but then you glance back to the display.

“Hm... Okay, but grab one of these sets with you, then.” you smirk up at him.

“Already ahead of you, treasure.”

    ༺☆༻

Shhh... The prompt for tomorrow is Pegging ^^

[thatlotuscookie]

hello how are u doing😊 could you please write for dabi x fem!reader who is a solo villain. and before you meet your soulmate u meet a chibi version of them, and you usually meet them when you turn 18, but reader didn't so she thought that she doesn't have a soulmate and then one day chibi version of dabi appears out of nowhere, and the chibi has dabi's personality and that's super cute because of its size. and i would like this to be about how reader deals with tiny chibi and how it warms up to her

✧･ﾟ: a/n : hiii anon!! im doing great and i hope you're doing good yourself. thank you for requesting! this is so adorable :33 i hope you enjoy, and that i captured everything in the right way<33

✧ Title: ✧ Tiny Flames ✧ ✧ Characters: Chibi!Dabi x Reader (Fem!Reader) ✧ Genre: Romance, Action, Comedy ✧ Rating: T ✧ Summary: You’ve made a name for yourself as a feared solo villain. As your eighteenth birthday arrives, you eagerly await the appearance of your soulmate's chibi form. But when midnight strikes without any sign, you resign yourself to the belief that perhaps soulmates are just a myth. However, after a particularly exhausting mission, a sudden flash of light brings Chibi Dabi into your life. ✧ Content Warnings: Minor language?, themes of villainy ✧ WC: 1612 words // 9.4k chars

In the shadowy underbelly of society, where chaos thrived and villains ruled, you carved your own path as a solo villain. You had built a reputation—feared and respected by heroes and fellow villains alike. Thriving in the thrill of the chase, you relished the freedom that came with being an independent agent of chaos. No one dictated your actions; no alliances held you back. You worked alone, and you liked it that way.

Your name was whispered in hushed tones, often accompanied by tales of your cunning plans and daring heists. You had mastered the art of deception, slipping through the cracks unnoticed, leaving a trail of confusion and destruction in your wake. Yet, despite the adrenaline rush of your dangerous lifestyle, a nagging void lingered within you—a yearning for something more profound, a connection that eluded you in the chaotic world you navigated.

Every year, on your birthday, you awaited the moment that would signal the arrival of your soulmate’s chibi form—the tiny, whimsical representation of the person destined to be by your side. It was said that the chibi would appear to you when you turned eighteen, guiding you toward your true love. However, as the clock struck midnight on your eighteenth birthday and no chibi appeared, your heart sank.

Was it possible that you were destined to be alone? The thought gnawed at you, but you quickly pushed it aside, convincing yourself that you didn’t need anyone. You were a villain; you thrived in solitude. But deep down, the ache of loneliness lingered like a shadow, reminding you that something vital was missing from your life.

Months passed, and you resigned yourself to the belief that perhaps soulmates were just a myth. You threw yourself deeper into your villainous pursuits, planning heists and wreaking havoc on unsuspecting heroes. Yet, even in your most triumphant moments, a part of you longed for connection—a partner to share in the exhilaration of your exploits.

One fateful evening, after a particularly grueling mission, you returned to your dimly lit lair, exhausted yet exhilarated. You had successfully executed a plan that would send shockwaves through the hero community, but instead of feeling accomplished, you felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness. As you slumped against the wall, letting the adrenaline fade, a sudden flash of blue light illuminated the room, causing you to blink in surprise.

When the light faded, your heart raced as you stared at the tiny figure standing before you. He was a chibi version of Dabi—small, spiky-haired, and exuding an intense aura that was oddly familiar. He stood no taller than your hand, his fierce glare somehow managing to hold the same intensity as the original Dabi.

“Who the hell are you?” Chibi Dabi demanded, his voice laced with a cold edge that sent shivers down your spine.

You blinked, half-expecting to wake up from a strange dream. “I—I’m Y/N. Your soulmate, apparently?” Your voice came out more incredulous than you intended.

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” he retorted, his icy demeanor unfazed. “I don’t need anyone.”

His response stung more than you expected, but you were determined not to show it. “Well, you’re here now, so what do we do?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions in your chest.

He shrugged, crossing his tiny arms over his chest defiantly. “Do whatever you want. I’m just here because I have to be.”

As the days turned into weeks, the bond between you and Chibi Dabi grew stronger, but not in the way you had hoped. He remained aloof, often retreating into his own world, indifferent to your presence. Despite your attempts to engage him, he would simply roll his eyes or give you snarky remarks that cut through the air like a cold wind.

One evening, after a particularly hard day, you returned home feeling defeated. The weight of your actions pressed heavily on your conscience, and you found it hard to shake off the guilt.

“Why do you look so miserable?” Chibi Dabi asked, his tone lacking any real concern.

“Just thinking about things,” you replied, trying to dismiss it.

“Thinking? That’s lame. Just burn something and move on.” He leaned back, his tiny form perched on the edge of your desk, looking like a fierce little king on a throne.

You laughed softly, but your heart felt heavy. “It’s not that easy. Sometimes it feels like we’re just doing bad things without any real purpose.”

Chibi Dabi’s gaze hardened, and for a moment, the intensity of his demeanor threatened to swallow you whole. “Then why do it? You’re the one choosing this life.”

His bluntness made you sigh, feeling the sting of truth in his words. “Because it’s all I know,” you confessed. “But I don’t want to be alone in this.”

“Too bad. That’s your problem,” he replied, crossing his tiny arms again but failing to hide the faint blush creeping onto his cheeks.

Despite the hurtful nature of his response, you felt a flicker of determination ignite within you. “I’m not going anywhere, Dabi. Whether you like it or not, we’re in this together.”

His eyes narrowed, but for a brief moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something softer beneath the cold exterior. Yet, he quickly masked it with indifference, turning away. “Whatever. Just don’t expect me to hold your hand.”

As the days passed, Chibi Dabi continued to be an enigma—cold, distant, yet somehow intriguing. You couldn’t help but be drawn to him, the fiery spirit that flickered beneath his tough exterior. With each passing day, you sought to break through the wall he had built around himself, determined to warm the icy heart of your chibi soulmate.

One evening, after an encounter with a rival villain left you rattled, you returned home, only to find Chibi Dabi sitting on the table, legs swinging in mid-air. He eyed you with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. “What happened? You look like you lost a fight.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I didn’t lose, but I didn’t win either. It was… complicated.”

Chibi Dabi leaned forward, his expression suddenly serious. “Complicated? You mean weak.”

“Dabi!” you exclaimed, half-laughing, half-frustrated. “I’m not weak. I just—”

“Then stop whining about it,” he interrupted, a small flame flickering to life in his hand. “If you’re going to be a villain, act like one.”

“Easy for you to say,” you shot back, trying to keep your tone light despite the hurt lingering beneath. “You’re all fire and no fear.”

His expression softened slightly, though he quickly masked it with irritation. “Maybe you need a little fire, too.” He stood up, his tiny fists clenched at his sides, glaring defiantly at you. “You don’t need to wallow. You’re better than that.”

A warmth spread through your chest at his words, despite the typical coldness of his personality. “Thanks, Dabi. I appreciate it.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t dismiss your gratitude. Instead, he seemed to regard you with a flicker of admiration. “Just don’t let it get to your head.”

Days turned into weeks, and with every shared moment, your bond grew deeper. Dabi’s once-icy demeanor began to soften as he discovered the warmth of companionship, while you learned to embrace your vulnerabilities. Though you remained villains in a chaotic world, you found solace in each other’s presence.

One night, as the two of you sat together on the couch, the glow of the television illuminating the room, you decided to watch one of your favorite movies—a thrilling tale of heroes and villains in a world much like your own. You settled into your spot, and Dabi perched on your shoulder, his tiny form fitting perfectly against you.

“Why are we watching this trash?” he grumbled, crossing his tiny arms as the action began to unfold on screen.

You chuckled. “It’s just a movie, Dabi. Just enjoy it.”

“I’ll enjoy it when I see some real fire,” he shot back, but the way he leaned closer to you hinted at his interest.

As the story unfolded, you found yourself glancing down at Dabi. His fierce expression mirrored his adult self, but you noticed the way his little eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He was fully engaged, despite his earlier complaints.

During a particularly intense scene, you felt him tense up, gripping your shirt tightly. “What’s going to happen?” he muttered, clearly invested despite his attempts to act tough.

You laughed softly. “You actually care, don’t you?”

“Shut up!” he exclaimed, his face turning a shade of red that contrasted with his usual cool demeanor. “I just want to see how it ends, that’s all.”

As the movie progressed, you noticed that Chibi Dabi began to shift closer, using your shoulder as a makeshift pillow. His tiny form curled up against you, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him, a stark contrast to the cold exterior he often projected.

When the credits rolled, you found yourself smiling down at Dabi, who was now fast asleep, his tiny face relaxed and peaceful. You reached down to gently stroke his spiky hair, a sense of warmth enveloping you.

“Guess you really enjoyed that, huh?” you murmured, your heart swelling with affection for the tiny villain.

Dabi stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly. In that moment, you realized that the icy barrier around his heart was slowly melting, revealing a warmth that matched the flicker of fire within him.

You knew the road ahead would be challenging, but as you watched him sleep, a sense of peace washed over you. Things would be okay.

[holylulusworld]

Between a rock and a hard place (6)

Summary: You are in big trouble and in need of money. Two wolves are more than willing to help you. For a price…

Pairing: Mobster!Walter Marshall x fem!Reader x Mobster!August Walker

Warnings: angst, language, power imbalance, debts, scared reader, groping, gaslighting, darkfic, both brothers are not nice guys, mafia au, a tiny hint of fluff, possessive Walter, jealousy, this author has a size kink and it shows

Between a rock and a hard place (5)

Between a rock and a hard place masterlist

Walter ends the tour in front of his bedroom. You don’t know what this is all about, because he only showed you around the house.

“What do you say?” You blink at his question, struggling to find the correct answer to his question. “Do you like your new home? I changed a few things, let the maid buy some plants and such to make it nicer for you.”

“It’s…nice…and…uh…huge,” you stammer, unsure if that’s what he wanted to hear.

“I knew you’d like it,” his huge hands cup your face. You feel so small and weak close to Walter and August. “My sweet little lamb. I saved the best for last.”

He lowers himself to press a surprisingly soft kiss on your lips. He claims your mouth like he did with your body and soul.

“OH—” You’re breathless when he finally pulls away, a smirk on his kiss-swollen lips. “You did?” In honesty, you don’t want to know about the surprise he saved for last. It can’t be good. If you learned one thing about the brothers is that they always get what they want.

“Close your eyes,” he purrs in your ear. “Trust me in this, lamb. I know you’ll love it.”

“Okay,” you breathe out. What else can you do but follow his orders? He’s holding your life in the palm of his hand. And his hand is so fucking big it could crush you in the blink of an eye.

“Good girl.” He praises you when you close your eyes and allow him to guide you along the hallways. He stops shortly after and unlocks a door. “Go inside.”

Walter moves his hand to the small of your back and guides you inside another room. He silently closes the door and locks it behind him.

“Open your eyes, sweet lamb,” he encourages you with a soft nudge to your side. “Go ahead and have a look around.”

You open your eyes to look around the room he brought you to. Speechless you turn toward Walter.

“What is all of this?”

“I called our interior designer and asked them to create the room you described on your blog. I even got the fluffy carpet.” He smirks when you gape at him. “You won’t get carpet burn when you kneel for me to suck me off.”

He recreated one of the rooms you had on your blog. A blush and white bedroom. Walter even got a white bed with pink and white bedding, a pink canopy, and a crystal chandelier.

The room was designed by someone who put a lot of effort into details. They used soft fabrics, elegantly curved furniture, and ornate gold mirrors and wall art frames.

“I don’t understand,” you wrinkle your forehead. “When did you find the time to do all this?”

He shrugs. “I found the time to do it for you.”

“I—” you don’t know how to react. Walter allowed his brother to use you, while he was using you like a toy. At the same time, he let someone create your dream bedroom.

“It’s alright, my sweet lamb,” he cups your face again to kiss you greedily. “I wanted you to have a place to come down. August is not allowed inside this room. Only I can unlock it.”

A shudder runs down your spine. This is not a bedroom but a prison.

Walter’s features soften for a second at your pained expression.

“What I wanted to say is, that he’s not going to taunt you in here. You are allowed to leave the room whenever you want to.”

“He doesn’t like me,” you murmur. “If he gets the chance, he’ll hurt me or sell me off to one of your guests.”

“Baby lamb, you know nothing about our dynamic,” Walter smirks. “If I lay claim on someone, August knows he’s not allowed to harm the person. You’re mine. If he wants to stay alive, he’ll not touch one hair on your head.”

“But—” you bite your lower lip, remembering how they fucked you in sync. “You let him have me…”

Walter chuckles as you shy away from his intense gaze. “We always share the good things in life. He’s allowed to touch you when I’m around. But only if I tell him so.”

You press your legs together. Having them both touch and use you wasn’t what you dreamed of on lonely nights. But you can’t deny that they woke a side of you that you never explored before.

“Hmmm…you liked having us both inside of your tight little holes,” Walter cups the back of your neck to steal another kiss. “Remember, you’re mine. He cannot have you outside of the club.”

“I…I don’t…I wouldn’t…”

“My sweet lamb is a secret vixen,” Walter concludes as his big hands move toward your ass to grope you roughly. “How about you decide on what we do next at the club?”

“Me?”

“As long as our VIP guests like the show, you can tell us how to fuck you,” he grins before kissing you again. “Think about it…”

“A pink room,” August throws a tantrum. He reminds you of an angry child as he paces back and forth in the dining room. “What will you do for her next?”

Walter remains silent. He simply watches his brother throw insults at him. “I thought about a reading nook at my office. She could read there, while I fuck her.”

Heat creeps into your cheeks at Walter’s words. He describes how he’d fuck you from behind while you read to him. Walter is shameless.

“Did you even listen to me?” August growls.

“I told you to stay the fuck out of my business,” Walter waves his brother’s words off. “We should talk about the show we want to put up for the VIPs. I want my little lamb to choose.”

“You want her to…” August pants heavily. “You lost your damn mind, brother! Are you insane? You cannot let her decide! We will fuck her ass and cunt and double-team her again.”

“We will discuss this later,” Walter angrily glares at his brother. He pats his thigh, waiting for you to sit in his lap. “I want my lamb to enjoy herself. If she comes with us inside of her, they will go crazy.”

August sits back down and crosses his arms over his chest. He watches you crawl in his brother’s lap with angry eyes.

“You’ll come so hard for us,” Marshal murmurs to lure you into sleep. You sigh and rest your tired head against his shoulder. He pats your head. “Right, little lamb.”

Sighing deeply August gets up from his seat to walk toward you. “I told you to call her by her name. She’s not some pet. Her name is Y/N.”

You flutter your eyes open to watch August stare at you in his brother’s arms. “Ignore him. He’s just jealous you like me more.” Walter narrows his eyes at his brother. “He knows that you’re mine, though.”

“I only want you to treat her like a person!”

“Says the man who wanted to let our guests use her,” Walter bites back. “I protected her from you and all the vultures at the club. She’s my sweet lamb, and I call her whatever I want to. We are still in the honeymoon phase and pet names are cute.”

“Does she call you sweet bear or shit too?” August tries to rile his brother up to make him snap. “Does she?”

You murmur Walter’s name, half asleep. It’s all you can do to calm him.

Walter is all you have left in this world. Your husband is dead, and all that’s waiting outside these walls is pain, sorrow, and debts. You desperately latch onto his attention and the sliver of hope he gives you. False hope.   

August doesn’t stop. He’s determined to make his brother snap. “She moaned the loudest when I was inside of her,” he smirks darkly when you hide your face in his brother’s chest. “Aw, don’t go all shy on me. You were all too eager to suck me off.”

“August,” Walter snarls his brother’s name. A warning to not cross a line.

“Do you have a problem, brother? If so, why did you share your sweet lamb with me?” August won’t stop. He loves to twist the knife if he gets the chance. “Why did you let me ruin her ass?”

“Because you wouldn’t stop annoying me. You shared your bitch with me and wanted me to pay you back. If you do not stop, you’ll never touch her again!”

August snorts. “You will let me have a taste whenever we are at the club.” He puts his hand on your ass and squeezes hard. “Right, baby. You will let your Auggie fuck you good and deep. Maybe I’ll breed your cunt next time too.”

You squirm in Walter’s lap. August’s words go straight to your lower half and you can't fight the wetness slowly coating your panties.

“There you go, Y/N,” August coos. “I bet that pretty pussy can’t wait to get bred.” He cups your ass with both hands. “I let them all have a look at your cum-leaking cunt next time.”

“Breeding bench,” Walter growls. His chest rumbles and you squirm even harder to rub your aching sex against the growing bulge in his pants. “We will bring one to the VIP area and give them all a good show…”

Tags in reblog.

[whumpinthepot]

Hamster Interactive Story

Chapter 15. Photoshoot

Prev - Masterlist

Content: giant/tiny, nonsexual nudity, dressing/posing/handling like a doll, ptsd, fear, swearing, being kept against their will, pet trope, cages, dehumanization, power dynamics, baby talk, ableism, selective mutism, slight bullying, being filmed (lmk if i missed any)

Pov: Hamster

Poll Winner: Pirate and Mermaid

ART, WRITING, AND POLL UNDER THE CUT!!

—-

Today is the day Ashley wanted Soap to model with you. She didn’t mention what the theme would be yet, and when she puts you on the counter where the props are set up you can only gaze in wonder at the chest full of gold coins, silks, and jewels. It's as big as your cage, and you have to crane your neck to try to see the top of it.

There are wooden paneled walls put up around the set, presumably so Soap has nowhere to try to make a run for it. You look around while Ashley goes to retrieve Soap Scrub. The  costumes are there in two piles and you pick up a random scarf to look at while you wait. 

Ashley comes back and places Soap’s shaking frame in front of you. When he doesn’t move she nudges him in the back with her finger, causing a yelp from him.

She’s scaring him.

You have to protect him from her! she’s made her point already. You frown at her and put your arms around Soap protectively, looking up at her with disapproval. 

He’s warm, and still trembling. You tighten your grip and it's clear on Ashley’s face that she gets the message. Ashley bites her lip and looks away from you. That’s right, she would never upset you. You can stop her from scaring your friend. 

Soap doesn’t hug you back, nor does his shaking settle. You can feel him looking around for a place to run or hide. Of course Ashley blocked off all exits so you’re not worried about that. 

Slowly you let go of him, glance at Ashley who has backed off, and take his hand to guide him to his costume. He numbly and stiffly follows you. 

Now that you’re standing next to him you can see that he’s about a head taller than you. It makes your heart flutter for some reason. Not like the humans who tower in comparison, just a bit taller but still your size. You smile at him to reassure that you’ve got him. He’s safe with you. 

His nerve returns when you hand him his clothes, and his face twists up as if holding back a rude remark. His sour eyes say it all, and he doesn’t take them from you.

You push the fabrics into his arms, and when he pushes you back without a word Ashley clears her throat from above you both. 

Soap nearly jumps out of his skin, snatching the costume out of your hands at lightning speed. Suddenly it's like he’s racing a clock, keeping an eye on Ashley’s hands and face while he tries to figure out how this costume works. 

You’re ready to help him if he needs it, and wait patiently for him to get dressed, in what looks like a pirate costume. He struggles with some of the extra fabrics, unsure where they fit but so far he has baggy brown pants with rips above his ankles with a long shaggy grey jacket with no sleeves. 

When Ashley instructs him on what to do with the extra cloth he jumps and looks just about to cry. You want to go comfort him more, but Ashley scoops you in that second to help you get into your own costume. 

“You’re going to be the cutest tiny mermaid!” She kisses your face, and presents you with a shimmering orange and green mermaid tail that slips on over your legs. “You won’t be able to walk with this, so mummy has to help you with it, ‘kay?” 

You don’t answer because there's no need. She’s already helping you into it, along with tape to cover your bare chest. She shifts your hair over the tape to make it look like it's naturally covering any private areas, and mists your hair with water. 

She squeals at how cute you are and sets you down on top of the pile of treasure. Some of it tumbles down to the floor with a sharp clatter, and you don’t move in fear of falling. Ashley takes your glasses off, and the house is back to the familiar blurriness it always has been. You can still see where Soap Scrub is though, and you squint at him. 

Ashley is pointing and telling him to fix his costume, and before long he’s being guided towards the treasure chest to stand close to you. You can’t tell if he’s shaking but you can only assume he’s still on edge about the whole thing. Even if he got plenty of warning throughout the week. 

When Ashley shines lights on you two, you really become blinded, so you let her physically pose you how she wants for each photo. She doesn’t touch Soap at all which is a relief because you know that's what he’s really scared of. 

At one point Ashley tells Soap to climb up the coins towards you, and when he says he doesn’t want to she reaches for him as if to grab him. He scrambles away from her, and angrily shouts at her. “Alright! Alright. I’ll do it, don’t fucking touch me.” 

You’re flabbergasted and your jaw drops but he’s crawling towards you. He’s slowly getting clearer, and he looks so, so handsome. You lean towards him with a big smile, one that he doesn’t return, and then the coins slip from under his hand. 

The first coin causes the second to slip, then the one above that, and now you’re slipping off of the top of the pile with them. Everything falls with you, and kindly enough, Soap is the one that catches you when you fall towards him. 

Your breath hitches initially but once you’re able to suck air in you cry in fear. Even though it was a very slow, very anticlimactic, very short fall, it still made your heart skip a beat and your limbs freeze up. Your arm throbs with phantom pain from when it was broken, and you cling onto Soap for dear life, crying from shock. 

“Whoa, ugh. It's okay, Hamster. Stop crying,” Soap says, and pushes you off of him gently to sit up. He definitely looks uncomfortable but he lets you keep holding his hands. Until Ashley’s giant hand gets close, then he makes a break for it, and jumps a foot away from you. 

Ashley picks you up, and presses you close to her chest. “I’m so sorry honey bunny, was that scary? I would never let you get hurt again. You’re safe, it's okay. I got some good shots. How about we stop for today. How does that sound?” She completely ignores Soap Scrub and wipes your tears away with her soft finger. 

She puts you back into shorts and a tank top, but she keeps holding you against her chest while she cleans up. Her heart hammers against your cheek, and you close your eyes, relaxing until she puts you back into your cage for the night. By then you’re calm again, and thrilled to go talk to Soap Scrub once Ashley goes to bed. You want to know what he thought about the whole photoshoot. He probably hated it, but you’d like to hear his thoughts anyway. 

Ashley is watching the news, and you dully listen to it while laying on your back. Something about pet liberation, but you don’t care enough to understand it, it's boring. 

Ashley shows you some of the pictures before she goes to bed and you’re happy to see how beautifully they turned out. Soap’s grumpy demeanor actually played into the role quite well, and you do look beautiful with the shimmering tail. You’re excited to hear about the comments you get when Ashley posts them. 

Once Ashley’s in bed you happily climb out of your cage, keeping well away from the counter ledge, and rush to where Soap lives. 

He’s expecting you, and already leaning against the bars to greet you. “Don’t you ever get sick of her talking to you like you’re a baby?” 

You shake your head with a smile, and give him a chocolate chip. He deserves a reward for participating today. 

“Thanks,” he says flatly. “Do you know what conditioning is? If you looked it up in a dictionary your face would be there.” 

You don’t really, but you do know he’s being rude so you roll your eyes. You don’t care about his questions. You want to know what he thought of the whole thing. 

You point at him. 

“Right, because I can totally understand what you’re asking right now,” he retorts. He bites his lip while looking down and gets more serious. “Were you listening to the news earlier? I wonder if it's real… You know, people breaking into places to ‘rescue’ pets. Maybe they’d help me, or maybe they’d just make things worse. Who knows…” 

You’re shocked at his dialogue and shake your head in horror. You do NOT want that to happen. 

“Hamster, if you let me out you could come with me you know. You don’t have to stay here with her… I know you love her, but it's messed up. People don’t belong in cages. I don’t belong in a cage. I don’t want to be someone's doll. I don’t want her touching me all the time. I don’t want her making money off me, and dressing me, and taking away my freedom. Fuck, she doesn’t even like me.” He laughs out of reflex, and says, “With you it’s different. She’s nice to you, but she’s using you.” 

You feel bad. He still hasn’t adjusted it seems, and besides, he had a point. Ashley isn’t as nice to him for some reason, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to lose your only friend. You can’t let him go, at least, not yet, not while you’re confused and conflicted. Besides, Ashley is nice to you, and Soap is usually a jerk, so really why would you want to go with him? 

You shake your head sadly and look away from him. You need time to think about all of this. Maybe someday you would like to explore the world, but not today. Not when Ashley still needs you. You couldn’t imagine breaking Ashley’s heart like that. Not in a million years. Still, the thought of people coming in to ‘rescue’ you has you a bit shaken. Especially if they wanted to hurt Ashley in the process. You will have to actually start paying attention to the news before making any sort of decision. 

“Alright then.” Soap sounds done with trying to convince you. One last thing he mumbles before you leave for bed is, “You looked good in your costume today by the way…” 

You absolutely beam at the compliment and wave goodbye at him for the night. You think about everything while you swing in your hammock. If Soap was around for so long before Ashley found him, you wonder if more tinies will ever show up. The thought both excites you and scares you. 

—

Tag list: @frogkingdom @verkja @whumpsday @octopus-reactivated @marvel-gt @rsitb-second-account @fallen-grace-smd @winged-wolf-s-collection-of-arts @kyp-the-spacekiwi @ilasknives @hollowgast1 @redd956 @zobodahobo @alittlewhump @blackrosesandwhump p @angst-after-dark @sandygarnelle @coppercoyoti i @kim-poce @mayisreallygay @smoll-stace @demondamage @vickytokio @whump-in-the-closet @shadowsnowdapple @whumpy-wyrms @re-whump @cypresscove @whumpninja @highlighterwhump @taters169

Clumping the tags together, Lmk if theres an issue with tagging! Also thank you @alittlewhump for helping me out with this chapter:))