#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 ->

[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.”

[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.

[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 ^^

[glasshcvse]

⸻⸻   ﹕ HALLOWEEN  SPECIAL ⠀ › ⠀ THE PHANTOM MANOR.

❝ WALTZ WITH THE DEAD, ESCAPE THE LIVING ! ❞

❝ ENTER  THE  EERIE  WORLD  OF  PHANTOM  MANOR,  glasshouse’s  most  thrilling  and  immersive  halloween  event  to  date.  as  the  gates  of  the  ivy-covered  mansion  swing  open,  you’re  drawn  into  its  haunted  corridors,  where  shadows  whisper  secrets,  and  every  room  reveals  a  chilling  story.  from  dancing  with  ghosts  in  the  grand  ballroom  to  cracking  a  sinister  murder  mystery,  this  isn’t  your  typical  haunted  house.  glasshouse  idols  become  spirits  and  suspects,  pulling  you  deeper  into  their  twisted  tale.  can  you  make  it  through  the  night,  or  will  you  join  the  manor’s  haunted  legacy? ❞

PHANTOM  MANOR  is  an  intricate,  multi-layered  halloween  event  designed  by  glasshouse  to  immerse  fans  in  a  haunted,  interactive  experience.  the  venue  is  set  in  a  sprawling,  gothic-style  mansion  with  an  ivy-covered  exterior,  old  stone  walls,  and  creaky  iron  gates.  the  estate  is  purposefully  designed  to  resemble  an  eerie,  abandoned  manor,  complete  with  cobwebs,  flickering  lights,  and  antique  furniture.

as  fans  enter  the  PHANTOM  MANOR,  they  walk  through  various  haunted  rooms  and  halls,  each  with  a  different  eerie  atmosphere.  glasshouse  idols  dressed  as  spirits,  ghosts,  or  cursed  characters  play  out  their  roles,  interacting  with  fans  throughout  their  journey.  some  idols  simply  watch  from  the  shadows,  while  others  jump-scare,  guide,  or  distract  you.

the key attractions are as follows:

01. THE HAUNTED BALLROOM ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ — the main performance space where idols reenact haunting waltzes. guests are sometimes invited to dance, only to realise their partners may be ghosts.

02. THE GHOSTLY LIBRARY ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ — visitors can roam the dusty aisles while idols play long-dead scholars, whisper chilling tales or offer cryptic clues to solve the overarching mysteries.

03. THE SÉANCE ROOM ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ — a séance is conducted by some idols acting as mediums, and fans experience frightening supernatural effects, like ghostly apparitions, flickering candles, and moving objects.

one  of  the  core  events  at  PHANTOM  MANOR  is  MURDER  MYSTERY  NIGHT,  a  life-sized  cluedo  reenactment  in  which  fans  must  solve  a  murder  within  the  mansion.

❝  a  mysterious  death  has  occurred  in  the  manor,  and  fans  are  invited  to  play  detectives  to  figure  out  the  identity  of  the  killer,  the  weapon,  and  the  location  of  the  murder.  each  room  of  the  mansion  ( the  conservatory,  the  dining  hall,  the  study,  etc. )  contains  clues  related  to  the  crime.  glasshouse  idols  portray  key  suspects,  such  as  the  butler,  heiress,  or  eccentric  guests,  giving  cryptic  hints  and  misleading  information.  they  will  lead  fans  to  hidden  rooms,  locked  doors,  or  secret  passages.  guests  are  split  into  teams,  and  the  group  that  solves  the  mystery  first  wins  exclusive  prizes.  those  who  fail  may  experience  additional  "haunted"  consequences,  such  as  getting  trapped  in  rooms  or  dealing  with  heightened  scares.  ❞

while  the  murder  mystery  was  happening,  fans  who  could  not  attend  were  offered  to  participate  in  a  different  event  simultaneously.  they  were  given  another  map  showing  the  blueprints  of  the  manor,  and  together,  they'd  have  to  escape  the  twisted  maze  of  clues  and  jumpscares  to  get  certain  rewards  or  prizes.

in  the  manor's  grand  hallways,  portraits  of  long-lost  residents  ( played  by  idols )  hang  ominously.  at  times,  these  portraits  come  to  life  as  the  idols  step  out  from  the  frames  to  interact  with  guests,  blurring  the  line  between  art  and  reality.  guests  are  tasked  with  identifying  which  portraits  hold  hidden  clues  to  escape  the  house.

the  underground  crypt  is  one  of  the  event’s  most  challenging  areas  in  the  basement.  fans  are  locked  in  a  crypt-like  maze  with  idols  playing  the  roles  of  ancient  spirits  and  undead  beings.  to  escape,  participants  must  solve  puzzles  and  riddles  hidden  in  the  crypt’s  dark  recesses,  all  while  avoiding  encounters  with  the  idols  playing  the  roles  of  guardians  of  the  crypt.  failure  to  escape  means  facing  the  crypt’s  final  curse—a  jump-scare-loaded  finale.

fans  who  successfully  navigate  specific  challenges,  either  by  solving  the  murder  mystery  or  escaping  the  crypt,  receive  exclusive  glasshouse  merchandise,  event-related  memorabilia,  and  potential  meet-and-greets  with  the  artists.

⸻⸻   ﹕ ARTIST  ONE ⠀ › ⠀ STUPID  CUPID / DREAME.

cheska as red riding hood

aimee as dark siren

tomie as alexa grady ( the shining )

jeanne as pearl

viva as lisa frankenstein

⸻⸻   ﹕ ARTIST  TWO ⠀ › ⠀ SOLOISTS.

hero as art the clown

mew as little bo peep

veronika as elphaba

yeoubi as glinda

girl from nowhere as alexie grady ( the shining )

sour grapes as thorn ( the hex girls )

domino as jack skellington

naisu as patrick bateman

YOUR OCS JOINED THE FUN BUT ARE NOT A PART OF GLASSHOUSE? NO WORRIES! JUST USE THE TAG #H'24 AND WATCH AS THEY APPEAR AT THE EVENT! THERE IS NO DUE DATE FOR THIS EVENT!

[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.

[mysteria157]

Chapter 11

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

Word Count: ~16k

CW: just…straight smut, profanity

Summary: Nanami gifts you with something that sets a new course in your life. When confessions are finally laid on the table, you both give in.

Notes: Hi! This is a long one so buckle in. Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated but not necessary <3 I hope you enjoy reading!

Divider: @cafekitsune

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It Had To Be You Masterlist

You watched Rory move another porcelain pillar across his studio to join the others of various height and size. An art exhibit was to be hosted at his studio and he had waited until the last minute to prepare.

“That looks good there. I don’t think we should change anything else.”

You watched him dust off his jeans, brown hands swiping the particles off the denim before he smiled up at you. His two strand twists were pulled up into a top bun, brown eyes filled with joy as he looked around at his finished work. The exhibit was to be held in only two days and he still needed to confirm catering, music, and decorations he had ordered weeks ago.

“Who asked you for an exhibit anyway? This has never happened to you.”

Rory pursed his lips, clasping his hands behind his back before he rocked playfully on his heels before throwing a wide grin in your direction.

“Me. I’ve finally pulled enough sponsors and followers to have something small.”

“Congratulations!”

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace as he chuckled into your hair and rubbed your back.

“I’ll be there, I promise. Do you need a guide? Can I help come up with price points? Or I can get out some last minute marketing for you—”

“Honey.”

He smiled down at you and patted the side of your cheek, a familiar gesture of affection he had always cast your way growing up.

“The only thing I want is for you to wear a nice comfortable dress, support me when you can, and look beautiful like you always do.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping away from his laughing form at your annoyance before you folded your arms over your chest.

“It would be a perfect opportunity to really showcase some of your work.”

The sound of that made your throat clench, lips pursing as you tried to push away the nerves in your belly. As if anyone would like your amateur work. Rory had been crafting ceramics for years, and before you were even born.

“I can set up a shelf if you want. Somewhere where not too many will pry—”

“Uncle Rory. I appreciate the gesture, but I’m not ready yet. I still have so much to work on.”

He scoffed in response, waving a hand at you in dismissal before flitting his gaze to the layout of pillars.

“Your mother is something else.”

He had muttered it under his breath, but you still caught it, choosing not to respond.

In truth, you had only just recently begun to regain your confidence and footing with ceramics again. The nagging words of your mother had echoed less and less every time you sat at a throwing wheel. But with a growing baby and a new house, you hadn’t really touched anything in the past week.

“Fine, fine. I won’t bring it up anymore. But I still want you there. Wear something nice…bring Nanami too. I know you had your little date yesterday because you look…very relaxed.”

You scoffed, choking on a laugh and blushing fiercely as you smacked your uncle on the arm.

“Nothing happened!”

You watched his shoulders shake in glee as he looked down at you, the teasing glint in his eyes so reminiscent of almost every time he looked at you. Growing up and spending your summers with him, having a place to run to when your mother frustrated you, you had only ever seen him happy or laughing. It was rare to see him annoyed or pensive or even angry; the only times those emotions had ever graced his features was when your mother was either in the room or the subject of conversation.

“All alone with a looker like that?”

He whistled, the noise bouncing off the walls of his empty studio as he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“Make it make sense. I’m straight as an arrow but…20 dollars is 20 dollars.”

“Stop!” you squealed, face red and throat ripping with giggles as you smacked his arm again. He guffawed, his boisterous laugh practically shaking the walls as he watched you flail about in embarrassment.

You were right though, nothing had happened. At least not really. You had toed that line last night gracefully, letting him ravage you to the point of delusion. Had it not been for your traitorous stomach, you probably would have woken up this morning in his sheets demanding breakfast and tea. He had morphed back into the perfect gentleman you were used to, content to blurt out annoyed comments at the television, fingers still pressing into the sore muscles of your back, peppering your neck with a kiss or two when the thought crossed his mind. Kento was able to put your discomfort on the top of his priority list, his lust tampered and tucked away for another time when it was more appropriate.

After all three episodes of the Kardashians had played and the heaviness of sleep began to settle into your bones, he walked you out to your car so you could go home before your eyes began to droop.

That was all. Nothing too crazy even though you wanted it to be.

But soon. You had promised it to yourself when you brushed your teeth last night and got ready for bed. Soon you would take charge and show him just how insatiable you could be.

“See, you over here thinking about it right now. A shame.”

Rory’s teasing slid through your ears, pulling you out of your thoughts and back into your overheated and embarrassed body. You narrowed your eyes at him, sticking your tongue out before whirling around to walk out of the studio.

“It’s in two days! Seven pm, don’t be late!”

****

“So, I haven’t heard from you all day. How long until you tell me how your date went?”

By the time you made it to your house from Rory’s studio, you only had minutes to spare before Ome was making her presence known. You had invited many of your friends over to finally get your house in order.

Originally it wasn’t your plan, but when Gojo heard Nanami and Haibara would be over to finally lay concrete in your studio, he immediately inserted himself. He wanted to ‘use his superior height to hang up pictures and shelves’.

His words not yours. Because he knew wherever you were, Ome would be as well.

Yuji, using any opportunity to spend time with you, insisted on coming over to move the rest of your furniture around.

Ome? Ome just wanted to be around to snoop about your date.

“Stop ignoring me. I’ll keep pestering until you give in.”

You offered her no response, flickering your gaze down to the layout of instructions for the rocking chair that had finally come in the mail. Ome had tried to reach for the box for the baby’s crib, but you had adamantly refused to open it. Based on Kento’s random bouts of slightly less stoic sentiment when he talked about putting together the crib, you gathered he wanted nothing more than to do it himself.

“How big is his dick?”

You rolled your eyes, your gaze still looking down at the instructions.

“Why are you talking like we haven’t had sex before?”

You gestured down to your belly, keeping your eyes on your work as you fastened a wooden leg into a rocker, the dark wood sliding beneath your fingertips.

“You had sex with Nanami when you were both drunk as fuck. Last night was the first time you two fucked free of inhibition. Your hormones are out of control, high libido, everything is sensitive, it’s the perfect opportunity to ride him into submission.”

You sighed slowly, your patience quickly evaporating as she continued to ramble. It was impossible to ignore Ome when she was determined to pry something out of you. It made no sense to withhold anything from her when she could read you like a book upside down, inside out, wet and dirty even on your worst day.

“We didn’t have sex, Ome.”

She scoffed in annoyance, bright silver eyes filling with growing curiosity as she helped you fasten the other side of the rocker. Her kinky locs were pulled away from her chocolate face and into a low bun. She had hidden away her curves in jogging pants and a hoodie, but you were sure the minute Gojo laid his eyes on her, he would make his intentions known until she smacked him across the face.

“You looked hot. Nanami naturally looks like a model so I know he was hot. It was fate. You’ve been trying to climb that quarter of a Danish man for months—”

“He made me a wonderful meal and we made out on his couch and watched the Kardashians. That’s all. I don’t even—we haven’t even talked about what we are.”

She sighed, the peppermint of her gum drifting over to your face and sending small shocks down your spine.

“You two are having a baby together, the correct way to go about a relationship passed a few months ago. You like him, he for damn sure likes you. Be the powerhouse that I know you are and state your intentions. Tell him you want him, drop to your knees and give him that sloppy toppy that will keep him at your side forever.”

You giggled softly, fastening another log in place, your mind running wild with imagination from her words. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to greet him and Haibara at the door, pull Kento by the shirt into your room and throw him on your bed before you fell to your knees and wrapped his cock in your mouth. You didn’t get the chance to that night five months ago, he had knocked away all attempts of you trying to grab at him, redirecting your hands into the sheets to grab and pull as he fucked you with an intensity and sensuality that had you on the verge of tears.

Ome was right though, as much as you wanted to have sex with him, you knew your subconscious would never be comfortable until you at least talked about the state of your relationship. You had both gone from enemies to being bound together by the baby inside of you, to friends who clearly had intense feelings for one another. Everything had moved so fast and out of order.

The sound of the doorbell pulled you out of your thoughts, your eyes blinking back into focus at the mahogany rocking chair leg in your hands. Ome bounded up from the floor and out of the room, leaving you in silence as you fastened the last piece of the chair. You smoothed your hands along the seat, the shiny dark wood reflecting the orb of the light on the ceiling as you pressed against the arm, watching the chair rock back and then towards you again.

Would Kento want something more with you?

You could never ask Ome the question. You could but you would never live down her anger at your stupidity.

Kento had seen almost every rough edge from you. While he didn’t have the opportunity to see you gross from sleep, hot morning breath and snoring, he had been given a front row seat to your fears and vulnerabilities. He had watched you break down and confess why you demanded so much of yourself. He had seen firsthand the effects of your own mother throwing scathing words in your direction and just how deep the trauma in your soul lay hidden.

You couldn’t have your cake and eat it too. You couldn’t want him physically and emotionally but cast him away when things got tough. Not with a baby on the way. You wouldn’t put your daughter through that. You wouldn’t subject her to awkward birthday parties where mommy and daddy were on opposite sides of the backyard glaring at each other.

But you couldn’t stand the thought of choosing to co-parent and watch Kento meet another woman. You couldn’t stomach the idea of having to explain to your daughter that the curvy blonde woman wrapped around her father would potentially be a stepmother.

“Nanami and Haibara are here!”

Ome’s voice rang in your ears, shaking your shoulders back into the present once again in such a small span of minutes. You looked up at the door of the nursery, watching Haibara and Kento come into view as Ome slid past them and began to collect the trash from the floor.

“Thank you for letting me help, y/n!”

Yu, cheerful as always smiled down at you, his almost comically large brown eyes shining down at you before looking around the nursery.

“I’m happy you could come.”

Ome inserted herself before Yu could speak again, holding the trash in her arms as she offered to show him the room that would make up your studio. They both disappeared from the room, their voices slowly decreasing in volume as they walked down the hall and out of earshot.

Kento in his dark jeans and simple white shirt, walked into the nursery, his intense brown eyes analyzing every inch of your work.

“What do you think?”

You let the simple question hang in the room, drifting in the air and through his ears as he admired your partially complete stencil on the wall.

“I think it’s going to look amazing. You already know how I feel about your work.”

You didn’t offer him a response as you watched his form walk slowly around the room, his blond hair was free of product and left to fall free. You had decided weeks ago that you loved it that way. It showed a side of him that you never imagined. Even with his stoic and serious demeanor, the carefree way he let his hair fall around his face made him less intimidating and more vulnerable.

He pulled his gaze away from your work on the wall, turning around to face your form perched on the floor before his eyes landed on the completed rocking chair in front of you. You ran your hands along one of the arms, smiling playfully up at him.

“Not bad huh?”

He hummed in response, the deep sound wafting down to land on your skin.

“How about you model the product for me?”

A large pale hand reached down for you, long fingers flickering back toward himself in a come hither motion and beckoning for you. You took his hand not a second later, letting the warmth bleed into your palm and begin to make its way up your arm as he pulled you to your feet.

You would need a pillow for your back, but the chair was structurally perfect. Large enough to not have your feet drag on the floor when you rocked back and forth, but not too small to squeeze your thighs on the sides.

Kento looked down at you, watching you sway back and forth in the large mahogany chair and basking in the warmth that began to boil in his stomach. You smiled up at him, your gaze free of frustration and worry, a mixture of happiness and mirth filling its place. Your curls were piled messily atop your head, a few tendrils falling to frame your face. Even in your maternity leggings and long blue shirt, he could see the swell of your stomach beneath the fabric, prominent and growing to accommodate the life inside.

It filled him with a sense of emotion he wasn’t expecting. He had long ago accepted the primal feeling of being the cause of another life forming. But he had yet to grasp the random bursts of unbridled happiness when his eyes would land on you when you both were together. He marveled at the way his chest tightened when he found you idly rubbing your belly when you talked. He loved the subtle changes in your form; the roundness of your cheeks and the way you would have to slide your shirt down when it rode too high and exposed the skin of your stomach. Even now as he looked down at you, the sight of a mother rocking in a chair and cradling her stomach, he couldn’t help the picture of their daughter in your arms sleeping on your chest as you rocked her to sleep.

To see you change so much for something else was a beautiful thing. Kento for all of his wit and strength and accomplishments would never know the feel of being so close to a life he had created as it grew.

“I’m going to guess by how much you’re staring that you like what you see?”

Kento chuckled softly, lips curling into a small smile as he chose to gaze at you further instead of offering a response. You bit the inside of your cheek, willing away the blush trying to make its way on your face as you stopped rocking and pulled yourself out of the chair.

“Rory has an exhibit in a few days at the studio. All of his work over the years and he’s pretty excited about it.”

“That is quite an accomplishment. I’ll offer my congratulations when I see him again.”

You opened your mouth, faltering for only a second before you squared your shoulders and harnessed that small reserve of confidence you kept in handy when it came to him.

“I’ll be going, you should come too.”

You fucking idiot.

Analyzing eyes roved over your form, sliding over your skin with an intensity that always made your stomach melt with heat. He closed the gap between you both, crossing the last shred of a boundary you had erected as his chest brushed against yours.

“So, you’re saying we should arrive separately? That’s very counterproductive and not like you at all.”

A pale hand slid around your waist, the familiar warmth of his skin blazing through your shirt and licking up your torso as he immediately pulled you closer to him.

“You don’t want me to come with you?”

His voice was so low, the deep timbre vibrating against you as his tea scented breath washed over your face. You couldn’t smell the familiar cologne on his body even at your close proximity, but you could faintly get a whiff of lavender fabric softener radiating from his white shirt. The feel of the nursery walls against your back shocked you instantly, pushing a shaky breath from your lungs, your blood boiling in your toes and slowly inching its way up your legs.  

“You’d have me dress up nice, gel and part my hair, wear those glasses you like so much…but I have to come alone? That’s not very fair.”

“I…I suppose you can come with me then. A date.”

He hummed in agreement before leaning down towards you.

The feel of his lips molding against yours wasn’t new, but it always felt that way. Hot and a little wet but so slow and sensual to the point you felt your heart begin to lurch up into your throat. Even with your limited experience with each other, finding a rhythm was easy because in a matter of seconds, the hand not on your waist had slid up to the side of your neck, titling your head back and allowing him better access. The feel of his tongue sliding against your bottom lip made you gasp, stomach fluttering in anticipation as you opened up more for him and let his tongue slide against yours.

All too soon his lips pulled away from yours, choosing instead to kiss the side of your mouth, the corner of your jaw, the thin skin of your neck before he latched on and began to suck the skin between his mouth, popping the blood vessels to give way to a mark that would surely take days to fade.

You blinked away the thick haze in your head, your vision slowly coming into focus as you looked up in a trance at the ceiling.

“Th-the door is open, Kento. Have some restraint.”

He hummed against your neck, disapproval leeching from his wet mouth and onto your skin. With great strength, he pulled away from your neck and looked down at you instead. His full lips were swollen and slightly red, cheeks holding a hint of ruddiness in color as he breathed heavily against you.

“Then we can go to your room.”

You swallowed down the whine that pressed against the back of your throat and threatened to be let free. His tone was serious and without a hint of teasing, eyes severe but liquid and flowing with heat. You opened your mouth to fight back, eyes blinking rapidly through the increasingly rising lust in your chest.

“Gojo and Yuji will be here soon.”

Kento simply shrugged, radiating indifference as one of his hands stroked your hip, pushing the hem of your shirt up to let his fingers graze against your skin. You found yourself arching your back fractionally, angling your hips just a little closer to him.

“Gojo will be distracted with Omelia and Yuji will be too engrossed on how cement works to care about anything else.”

Another kiss to your lips, quick and wet before the hand on your skin moved further up your back, the miniscule touch arching you a little more into him.

He sighed dramatically, hot breath amplifying the electric currents still zipping through your body.

“Perhaps you’re right. We would be pressed for time.”

Both of his hands cradled your face, tilting your head back again to look up at him before he slotted his lips against yours, kissing you with an intensity that had you struggling to breathe against him. You buried your hands into his chest, fingers curling the soft fabric tightly, wanting him closer but also knowing you wouldn’t have the privacy today that you both craved.

He pulled away with a soft breath before pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth.

“Besides, the things I would like to do…I’m sure our friends would be a little mortified if they heard you.”

The whine that had remained huddled in the back of your throat finally sprung free, your face coloring hard as you smacked his muscular chest and glared up at him. He smiled down at you, a gentle curve of his lips and a small puff of air leaving his nose as he laughed gently, chest rubbing up against your belly.

The ring of the doorbell and Ome’s yell that should would answer, made you both unfortunately aware of what would be happening today; getting your house in order. Not tangled in the sheets for hours on end.

But soon.

“Go help Haibara with the studio.” You reached up to stroke loose blond locks from his forehead, admiring as they flopped back into place. “The gallery is in two days. Look nice but not too fancy and wear that cologne I can always smell on you.”

You watched with silent satisfaction as his eyes flooded with arousal and pride, offering yourself to him one last time as he kissed your lips quickly and pulled away from your frame, allowing the cold air of your nursery to waft between your bodies and dissipate the heat.

“Yes ma’am.”

You ignored the licks of heat in your belly at the words, pushing away the fantasies as he placed a quick kiss to your cheek and walked from the room.

You weren’t paying attention to the growing chatter in the hallways, your eyes unfocused and teeth digging into your bottom lip as Ome and Gojo walked into the nursery.

“Why can’t I compliment you?”

Gojo’s voice was filled with confusion and a small hint of disappointment as he stopped in the doorway. Ome sat in your rocking chair, looking up at Gojo’s confused form.

“You only compliment me because you want me to get in bed with you. You’re too tall and annoying for me to spare the five minutes for you to get off.”

You relaxed your posture, molding more into the wall as you watched them both interact.

“No, I’m complimenting you because I mean it.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes and folding her arms across her chest. You could see the need to fight him in her eyes, the innate desire to turn away any man who made themselves known to her. But you could also detect a hint of interest, so very small but only you could see it.

“Gojo, you’re—”

“Just one date.”

The admission wasn’t a surprise to neither you nor Ome. But the serious look on Gojo’s face, bright blue eyes looking down at Ome in a fierce sort of loyalty you had never seen before, made you both pause.

“Just one. Give me one chance to prove to you that I’m worth more than insults. If you don’t like me after all of that, then I’ll leave you alone.”

She didn’t speak for a few seconds too long, silver expressive eyes looking up at Gojo’s equally alien ones before she pursed her lips in resignation.

“Y/n’s uncle is showing his work at his studio in a few days. Take me. No tricks, no stupid remarks, no nasty innuendos. If you fuck this up, I’ll choke you.”

He wiggled his shoulders playfully, smiling down at her.

“So, a win-win for me then?”

You couldn’t help the snort that shot from your mouth, eyeing Ome as she rolled her eyes and tried to contain the twitching of her lips.

Gojo turned his form over to you, flashing pearly whites in your direction before he invaded your space with his grotesquely tall form and pulled you into a gentle hug.

“So still no dick yet?”

For as much as Ome complained about Gojo, they truly had a lot in common. Two sides of the same coin who said what was on their mind without a care for how it came out of their mouths. Gojo took in your annoyed expression for only a second before rolling his eyes.

“I told you, my eyes see everything. I can tell that you had a good date last night, but you don’t have that glow most women do when they’ve had good pipe.”

There was no point in admonishing him. Once he got started, it was almost impossible for him to stop until it suited him.

“In college, I accidentally heard Nanamin giving it to one of his girlfriends at the time. Even I wanted to take notes from him. She walked out of his room like a newborn deer."

Gojo sighed as he recounted the events, almost wistful.

"Luckily Haibara walked in the house when Nanamin saw me or he probably would have beat the shit out of me. Wear something nice and he will be on you like a rabid dog.”

Ome barked at him to get out, rushing after his laughing form as he ran from the room, leaving you a blushing mess.

***

You were sure of yourself as you looked in the large mirror of your bathroom. You had spent hours putting yourself together, picking out every accessory and coming up with the perfect style until you had given up entirely and decided to just…go with your gut. And that simple action boosted your confidence to a degree that even you were blushing as you looked in the mirror.

A mauve long dress with skinny straps hugged your body. Not too tight, but form-fitting enough to show off the curves of your growing form and your belly. The long-sleeved mauve duster made you feel a little more secure as it flowed down your body and stopped at the same length of your dress. Your clear chunky heels were only about three inches tall; a perfect height for you to walk around in all night without getting too uncomfortable. Your curls hung over your shoulders and down your back, your edges smoothed down and secure with a skinny black headband to keep any tendrils from falling in front of your face. You topped off your accessories with a double-layered gold necklace, gold hoop earrings and a few simple gold bands to decorate your fingers. A simple wing of eyeliner, clear mascara, and a smooth application of clear lipgloss had cemented your look and filled you with a sensation of pride that you hoped would ride with you the rest of the night.

The sound of your doorbell pulled you out of your admiration, jumping a little from shock before you grabbed your black clutch and made your way for the door.

It made no sense to look naturally ready to fuck. And yet here he was, at your front door in black pants topped with a black leather belt with a silver buckle to accentuate his trim waist. A dark grey knit long-sleeve top was tucked into his pants, pulling just a little at his pectorals and biceps. The sleeves were pushed up to the middle of his forearms, showing off veiny skin and his signature silver Cartier watch. His thick blonde locks were gelled and parted in his signature style that you had seen every day at work and that familiar cologne was pooling around his form, floating around his feet and waiting to trail after him.

“You’re beautiful.”

The statement left no room for argument as he looked down at you and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. You offered a small smile up at him in return, rolling your eyes playfully before you locked your door and followed him to his car.

***

Rory had really outdone himself in such a short time. The studio had been transformed from glaze and paint stained walls, eclectic design, and haphazard decoration, to sleek and modern. The walls which were usually decorated with frames of paintings and photography had been covered with white satin curtains. The bright lights that were often on in the center of the room had been turned off, smaller lights installed instead and directing their low-lit gaze at the various pieces of ceramic art that littered around the room on white stone pillars of varying size. He had forgone the musician and settled with a simple playlist of smooth jazz and R&B that played through the speakers on the walls. A long table of snacks and drinks and a caterer for each dish manned the far wall at the very end of the room. Even though you and Kento were only fifteen minutes late for a three-hour-long event, the room was filled with people talking idly with each other as they gazed at his work.

“Will you be my guide?” Kento teased from next to you, offering his muscular arm before you wrapped into his embrace and chuckled against him.

“You know his style more than I do.”

You couldn’t deny the happiness that filled you as you both wandered from work to work, your mouth flying with different facts about each piece. You told him about Rory’s inspiration for a collection of terracotta pots he had made when you were fifteen, walked him through the process of how he studied indigenous tribes overseas for a few years to gain inspiration on how to craft in a different way.

He listened intently, asking questions often to keep your mind busy, his mind truly interested in everything he was looking at. It made you squeeze his arm a little tighter in affection as you both said hello to Rory before continuing to wander around.

“Do you realize that this could be you?”

You didn’t respond to him as you both studied a set of black stoneware, fashioned to look as if it had been broken from hot coal and molded on the spot. Kento, sensing your apprehension, chose to keep speaking.

“You have a creativity that rivals even Rory.”

You scoffed in reply to his statement. What a ludicrous thing to say; comparing yourself to your uncle who had years of experience and study to hone his craft. And you, who had only thrown pottery on a wheel in your studio in your spare time, would not come as close to this for quite some time.

“Where do you think you get the trait from? You have work in your studio that could be sitting right on these pillars tonight.”

You simply chose to study him further, your eyes prying into him to see if you could pull any sense of a lie from his expressive brown eyes. As usual, you came up short. Kento always exuded a seriousness that gave way to honesty

“I think impending fatherhood has made you soft.”

“I may be happy that I’ll be a father soon, but I have no reason to lie. I will say it until you begin to realize and then continue to do so; you have a gift.”

You swallowed gently, pushing down the rising quivering in your throat from his words. You had a love-hate relationship with his way to simply speak freely. What would come out chopped and filled with anxiety from others was always effortless for Kento. Especially when it was directed at you.

“Would you like something to drink?”

He was clearly trying to soothe you; give you a little space to breathe and soak in his words. You took the bait, smiling softly and nodding before you watched him walk through the crowd and away from you.

Your eyes wandered over Rory’s black stoneware again, admiring the natural orange spots to bring the appearance of rust. You would get there. Once the baby was born and you had just a little more time to breathe, you would dedicate yourself to your work. You had more than enough money to stay unemployed for years and you had resolved to see this through until the end; whether that resulted in success or embarrassment would remain to be seen.

Gojo was hard to miss as he and Ome circled the room and caught your eye, talking—and surprisingly not bickering—as he pointed to certain objects and smiled down at her, mouthing words that seemed to make her chuckle and roll her eyes. Ome was of course as sexy as ever; black pants that hugged her thick thighs and slim waist, a black halter top that showed off chocolate shoulders, her kinky curly hair falling over her shoulders in a twist out she had clearly worked hard on. Her silver eyes were the most entrancing thing in the room. Gojo for all his unnatural height and bright blue eyes that pulled everyone in, was nothing in comparison to her when she was in the room. He waved at you, smiling brightly before his stark gaze landed on what was probably Kento across the room. He whispered something in Ome’s ear before he disappeared into the crowd.

You were intentionally quiet when she reached you, pursing your lips dramatically as you waited for her to speak first. She glared at you instead, seeing through the demeanor almost instantly, gaze cutting as a means to intimidate but only served to bounce off of you.

She sighed in defeat.

“Spit it out.”

“So you and Gojo—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You giggled brightly, rubbing your belly instinctually as you watched her chocolate cheeks darken from blush. She rolled her eyes once, your giggling never ceasing as she rolled them again before the gentle curve of a smile broke her façade and she exhaled with her own incredibly rare giggle herself.

“He’s been…fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Okay, okay. He’s been really, really…sweet. I thought I could intimidate him into backing down but I guess six months of practice made him an expert. He’s…fucking trying and I’m having a good time.”

You wrapped your arm with one of hers, pulling her toward you with another giggle.

“I’m glad. Don’t get too comfy too quick, you might be joining me in the motherhood department with the way he carries himself.”

Ome squawked, smacking away your hand in embarrassment.

“You annoying piece of—”

“Excuse me.”

Your chiding laughter faded away slowly as you turned around to the source of whoever was trying to get your attention. Her appearance gave nothing away and you for sure didn’t recognize her from anywhere else. Red rimmed glasses perched on pale and freckled skin, jet black hair pulled up into a tight high bun, dark jeans, a white top, and red lipstick to make her stand out in the crowd even with her small frame.

“Are you y/n?”

“I am.”

Your confirmation seemed to make the small smile on her face grow significantly. She clasped her hands together in excitement.

“Oh, I’m so glad. Your message said I could find you here. I was hoping to talk to you in person about a potential commission?”

You tilted your head in confusion, your eyes looking quickly through the crowd for Kento but not finding him. Ome shifted beside you, sliding closer to you and reaching for your arm to pull you away if she needed to.

The woman could see the hesitation on your face and dug in her purse to pull out her phone.

“I’ve been following your Instagram page for weeks now and finally had the courage to message you about your work. I even received a response this afternoon on where to meet you so we could talk further.”

You held your composure as she handed you her phone.

The profile was simple and without flair but the pictures, each picture was of the work that you had done over the years. Terracotta and stoneware, partially complete painted china, the odd figurines you had crafted in the privacy of your studio. All of it was there, there was no way this was someone else. The fear of someone sneaking into your house rooted in your mind as you scrolled through picture after picture, going over every single time you had opened and closed the door to your home in Sendai to imagine a possibility that you had left it unlocked.

“I’m sorry but I don’t know what’s going…on…here.”

Your words died in your throat, mouth drying up instantly. The very last photo was of you; your messy hair pulled up into a bun, shirt stretched over a smaller belly and hands clutching a stoneware dish as you wrapped it in bubble wrap. You weren’t even looking up in the photo, but the impression was clear. Someone had taken a photo of you, and the sinking reality of who that person was had your heart soaring against your ribcage, pounding relentlessly against your bones, heartbeat echoing in your ears.

You scrolled back up to the top of the page, admiring the profile picture of one of your better works and then refusing to gasp at the bio.

Y/n

Self-taught Ceramic Artist based in Nakameguro

DM for more inquiries

“Kento.”

His name left you on a shaky exhale, your head filling with disbelief. You cleared your throat, suddenly aware of a pair of eyes looking at you, and smiled up softly at her, handing her back the phone.

“I apologize. It seems I have a friend who made this page for me and didn’t tell me. But…I would be happy to make something for you. You’ll have to be patient with me as you’ll be my first client. But we can talk later this week if you want.”

The woman exhaled happily, smiling up at you again before she bowed in respect.

“Thank you so much! I would be honored.”

She pulled her purse over her shoulder, turning to leave before faltering and looking at you.

“You have a wonderful friend.”

The statement made you shake out a small giggle, happiness beginning to flood your veins at a ferocity you weren’t prepared for.

“I suppose I do.”

Ome asked for the profile name from the woman as you remained silent. When she finally walked away and back into the crowd, it was just you and Ome still standing next to one of Rory’s work.

Kento had waited until your back was turned to take those photos that day when you were packing up your studio. He had done all of this without a second thought; creating an Instagram page maybe with Yuji’s help, organizing picture after picture, probably even manning inquiries and messaging that woman right before he got into his car to drive to your house to pick you up.

“Do you realize this could be you?”

“You have work in your studio that could be sitting on these pillars tonight.”

“You have such a gift.”

Ome’s hand on your back made you start, jumping slightly back into reality, your eyes hazy with tears as you looked over at her. You blinked them away, willing them back inside before they could roll down your eyes and give you away when Kento was to find you again. You looked down at your phone for what felt like the 50th time in only two minutes, scrolling through picture after picture, your admiration and affection for him growing by the second.

He had a kindness that you more than deserved but never would have expected to get, especially when you first met. He had only saw your work one time, just once in your studio right before you poured your heart out to him about your mother, and yet he had already resolved to make you realize just how talented you truly were.

All of this for you.

“Are you okay?”

Ome’s voice was soft next to you, rubbing your back and watching as you smiled over at her before nodding, your voice still too tight to speak.

“I can see Gojo trying to find me, so I’ll go to him and give you some space.”

She pulled you into a firm hug, chuckling against your cheek.

“I’m glad I finally have someone in my corner that can make you see reason.”

You pinched her side playfully, not speaking as you watched her disappear from you and in the direction of Gojo.

Kento was by your side only minutes later, his face giving away nothing as he offered you a plastic-covered cup, a string from a teabag hanging from the side.

“Dandelion tea. Helps with water retention and I can imagine standing for this long might make you a little swollen and uncomfortable.”

You exhaled quickly, your shoulder shaking from the action as you took the cup from him.

“They have packets of dandelion tea here?”

Kento tilted his head, his serious eyes gazing at you with an air that made your stomach squeeze.

“No, I brought a packet for you. Events like these require a lot of standing. It only made sense.”

You shook your head in disbelief, eyebrows pinching together as your mind reeled with the force of him. The more that you felt yourself getting used to his usual acts of kindness, the more you realized just how unacclimated you were. Even though you knew his nature, the fact that the person standing in front of you was just…being himself was almost too much to contemplate.

Making you tea for your nausea, texting you the right foods to eat to help with your nutrient intake, rubbing the sore muscles of your body without you having to ask, wanting to spend any moment with you that he could, offering you nothing but honesty and affirmation and affection in every interaction you both had.

For fucks sake even forcing you to put your own feet in the water with your work to show the world and even yourself just how much people were looking.

All of it was only things that Kento could do. Without question and without apprehension.

As he looked down at you, a small smile growing on his straight lips with not a care in the world, you realized in that moment that you wanted to be out of this room and only with him.

“Can we go home? Maybe back to my house? It’s closer and I would like to be away from people if I can.”

A familiar large hand rested on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd instantly.

“Whatever you would like, we will do.”

You bit the inside of your lip, both hands gripping the warm cup a little tighter as the flapping in your chest reinforced its existence with a heavy lurch.

***

Your tea was largely forgotten as you set the cup down on your granite kitchen island. You had spent the entire car ride thinking over what you would say and how you would approach him. You had rehearsed it in your head over and over. But now, standing in your large kitchen as you watched him heat up leftover food from last night for you without even having to ask, you found your tongue had curled into the back of your throat, thick and dry and keeping you from speaking.

“Do you want to watch a movie? I found one that I think you might like.”

His attention was elsewhere as he spoke, pulling the reheated pizza from your microwave and setting it on the counter between you both. He finally looked up at you, his straight face coloring with a hint of worry.

“You’re awfully quiet. What’s wrong?”

Hesitation made your bones suddenly heavy, your mouth mute and your resolution teetering on the edge of fear. Kento could read every flicker of emotion in your eyes like a book, walking around the island to stand in front of you, a hand rubbing your upper arm in an attempt to soothe you.

“Are you nauseous? Tired?”

You blinked yourself out of your stupor, steeling what remained of your fraying nerves as you dug in your purse for your phone. He was silent as he watched you unlock it, observing as you opened the app and clicked the recently followed profile. You squeezed the sides of your phone as you looked at the pictures, your conviction hardening in your chest as you decided finally to put the games and worry with him aside.

“A woman found me at the gallery tonight and asked for me to commission something for her. Naturally…I had no idea what she was talking about and she showed me this.”

You turned your phone to face him. Kento wasn’t surprised or caught off guard; his straight face simply looked down at your unlocked phone, brown eyes flickering over the contents quickly before he looked up to meet your gaze, his expression unchanged.

“Did you make this?”

He answered almost immediately, his voice firm and leaving no room for trepidation.

“I did. I took them that night when I helped you pack, and then it took me about a week to put it all together. I’ve been watching it and answering inquiries since then. She was the first person that I felt confident would not be a creep.”

You clutched your phone to your chest, pressing the cold titanium to your cleavage and willing yourself to stay focused. He spoke without a care in the world, muttering the words to you as if he were talking about the weather. As if the act were just a usual stroll down the street.

“I don’t want you to say that I’m speaking nonsense. I don’t want a vague answer and I don’t want you to tell me something just to make me feel better. I need to know, now. Why did you do it?”

He pulled in a steady breath, broad shoulders rising with the movement before he squinted down at you and opened his full straight lips to speak.

“We had a rather rough start, didn’t we? Always barking at each other in conference rooms, demeaning each other’s’ prowess whenever we could. All because I was an asshole who did not like change and was content to coast through a job I loathed. But even though we both couldn’t stand each other; I was always thinking about you. Even when I swore to myself that you were no good, I loved every word that came out of your mouth, every glare you sent my way, every laugh that fell from your lips when Yuji or Gojo told you a joke. You were always the smartest person in the room and I gravitated to you. Even when I was drunk out of my mind, you were all I wanted. I hated it. But I realized quite quickly that I hated how much I had messed up when I could have done so much better with you.”

You swallowed the heavy lump in your throat, trying your best to will away the lightheadedness as his words lofted down between you both to settle on your face.

“I don’t want you to think I’m only acting this way because of the baby. If anything, she’s shown me everything that I want. I want to be able to take care of you while she grows inside of you. I want to be there when she comes into the world. I want to be there for every diaper change and late night when we are both too exhausted to stand…I want to be there for every meal and birthday and holiday, but I want you with me. I want to be there with you every day, for everything. I got your job back, put your ideas in front of those who would listen, and helped fire the ones who wronged you because you deserve it all. I made that page because I want you to understand how special you are and I want others to see that as well, and if that means I have to give you a push then I’ll do it a million times over.”

The sound of your phone creaking as you squeezed the metal in your hands pulled the fuzz out of your mouth. Your vision was swimming with tears, threatening to spill over and start a spicket that you wouldn’t be able to stop. You could feel yourself sinking, wanting to sob in happiness but too embarrassed to show him. So naturally, you turned to humor as a distraction from your bubbling nervousness. You cleared your throat gently and lifted your chin up at him.

“You speak like you’re reading wedding vows. You don’t think it’s a little soon?”

Kento’s eyes widened fractionally in surprise, his cheeks dusting red before he schooled his features and narrowed his eyes down at you in admonishment.

“That’s not funny. Stop teasing.”

You couldn’t help the small giggle that warbled from the back of your throat, your hands relaxing around your phone before you set it on the counter next to you. You looked up at him, admiring the subtle blush on his cheeks that still hadn’t faded away, reveling in the emotions dancing in his eyes; vulnerable and uncertain. You took another step closer to him, the gap between you both now only inches apart.

“So, you want me then?”

You of course already knew what he was going to say. For months now, Kento had done nothing but show who he really was; kind and honest, unwavering in his feelings and affirming of yours, protecting of you in such a fierce way that the force of it was still something you had yet learned how to handle. There were so many other things that you could try and think about another time. You knew deep down that he wasn’t going anywhere. But to hear him speak the words you wanted to hear, just one more time to satisfy the urge for a few months, it would be more than enough for you.

He wrapped both of his arms around your waist, warm skin sliding against your duster and leeching into the tight fabric of your dress. The smell of him dancing along your skin, caressing and groping in a way that had you reeling.

You watched in growing delight as the corners of his lips curved with a soft smile, brown eyes melting almost immediately.

“Of course, I want you. I want you every minute of every day. I admire you and--I like you…more than you can imagine.”

The resolution had cemented in your chest, pushing away all your nerves and apprehension at once as he spoke the words to you; serious and firm and unrelenting in a way that only Kento could convey.

Mentally grasping the sudden abundance of courage, you closed the gap between you both and buried your hands in his shirt, bunching the fabric and yanking him down towards you until his nose brushed against yours. You quietly admired the sight of his eyes widening just an inch, bright brown eyes blowing out slowly.

“You’re a very sappy man, Kento. I’m surprised you don’t cry more.”

The rare chuckle that was growing more and more common around you shot out onto your skin, brushing against your cheeks and smoothing down the sides of your neck.

“The teasing won’t ever stop, will it?”

The hands around your waist yanked you even closer to him, your chest molding against his and forcing your neck to crane slightly to look up at him because of his tall form. The ring of his irises was thin, barely noticeable in the kitchen lights as you felt the heat from his body increase in temperature.

“Is that a problem, Kento?”

“Absolutely not.”

You both moved at the same time, crashing your lips against one another and igniting a fire that had been poked and prodded for almost six months, finally laying more coals down to watch it grow to a volatile level. His hands were insistent, digging into the meat of your hips with a force that had you hissing in satisfaction, your own hands twisting into his shirt, fingernails catching on the fabric and pulling hard.

The brush of the cold countertop against your back made you jolt, pulling your lips from his as you gasped from the feeling. There was no space between you both, your boundary had shattered a long time ago around him. Even slouched over to reach your lips, Kento towered over your small frame, boxing you in between his hot body and the granite behind you. His broad chest was heaving against your chest, panting deeply as you felt one of his hands leave your waist and twine between your fingers, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“Your bedroom.”

His voice was low, lower than what you were expecting and the words carried nothing but demand as you felt your spine zip with electricity. You squeezed his hand and wordlessly led him through your living room, down the hall, and into your large master bedroom.

You had decided to stick with the taupe-colored walls but opted to paint the accent wall a light sage. Your walls were decorated ornately with paintings and pictures, a collection of small impressionist works you had accumulated over time and a vast array of pictures of you, Ome, Rory, and your friends throughout the course of your life. An antique vanity that you had saved up for years ago sat against one of your walls, skincare bottles and your minimalist makeup lay on the refurbished countertop.

The sight of your California King platform bed reminded you immediately of the tall man behind you, quiet and imposing as you felt his chest brush against your back. Your teeth dug harshly into your bottom lip, the pain keeping you grounded and lucid as one of Kento’s hands brushed your curls over a shoulder, exposing your neck to him. The hot press of his lips on the skin had your eyes rolling, fluttering closed as you instantly bent to his will, tilting your head to the side to give him more access. You couldn’t remember when your duster had come off or even when long fingers dipped underneath the thin straps of your dress before they were giving way and falling over and down your shoulders, allowing the fabric to tumble down your body and onto the floor. Your bra and panties were nothing special, you had always opted more for comfort these days and the lacier garments you did have were a bit too small now.

You had both seen each other stark naked before, had been pressed together and sweaty and panting and groaning against one another to leave no room to hide so this wasn’t anything new.

But that was before you knew more about him, before he had given you a child and peeled layer after layer of your soul until nothing was left. Now you were both free of inebriation and that ghosting feeling of anxiety slowly began to make itself known, familiar invisible tendrils dancing up your body menacingly.

All too quickly, Kento was turning you around to face him, an action that managed to dissipate the tendrils around you if only for a moment. His eyes were heady with lust and something else you couldn’t quite place, dark and blown out as his gazed roved over your skin.

You were proud of your growing belly; at five and a half months it wasn’t that big yet and you had no trouble getting around and reaching for things. But the soft curve of it did make you feel a little self-conscious. It wasn’t the smooth and slightly toned brown skin he had trailed his tongue down months ago. It wasn’t the same, but you knew Kento could care less.

Warm hands grabbed your hips, guiding you backwards until you were sinking down onto the soft black duvet on your bed. You swallowed hard as you watched him sag down to his knees onto the plush rug on the floor, his eye level now only a few inches taller than yours before he was leaning in again and taking your lips in a manner that seemed to leave you breathless. He wanted this, wanted you. In every way, shape, and form. And the finality of it registering in your body had you building with newfound confidence as you reached behind yourself and unhooked your bra, casting it aside and leaving your top half bare except for your gold necklace.

He took it as an invitation, his hands smoothing up your torso, thumbs brushing against the sides of your breasts before the pad of them ran over your nipples. You knew you were more sensitive lately, but the feel of his thumbs brushing against you had you whimpering into Kento’s mouth, your hands digging into the sheets behind you as you arched more into his touch. His lips were hot and wet as they trailed down your neck to suck and knead at your skin, gnawing at the soreness from the mark he left days ago before they dipped lower to brush against your collarbone, his thick tongue licking the bone against your thin skin.

Ten minutes. It had taken ten minutes for Kento to go from gentleman with his kisses and smooth hands, to perverted beast with a long and insistent tongue that needed to taste every inch of your skin. You let out a shaky breath as you looked down at him, refusing to whimper as his eyes caught yours, tongue out and pressed to your skin before trailing it down your breast and toward a nipple, twirling the bud before he sucked it into his mouth. The moan from your mouth caught you off guard, a little loud and jarring to your body as you tried to sift through the painful pleasure radiating up your spine. His hand grabbed your other breast, kneading the sensitive skin before two fingers rolled a nipple between them and pinched down.

You squeaked, sagging back onto your hands on the bed and letting your head fall back between your shoulder blades as you looked up at the ceiling, mouth open and panting.

Kento promised himself he would go slow. He wanted to take his time with you, touch every single inch until you were a whimpering, pleading mess that was begging for him with tears in your eyes.

It’s what he told himself when you answered the door in your tight dress, block heels, and long curls. It’s what he reinforced in his mind when you were close enough to taste his breath, teasing him even after he had laid himself bare. And it’s what he kept repeating in his head even now, a tongue licking a pert nipple in a gentle caress that had you shaking, your hands threatening to slip as your resolve broke further and further. But he was teetering on the edge, his mind running with salacious thoughts the more he tasted the salt of your skin and listened to the broken whimpers leaving your mouth. He hadn’t even touched your cunt yet, and he was trying to get himself together before he did. Just the thought of you hot and wet and dripping for him had him stiffening in his pants.

As soon as he acknowledged his resolve, it crumbled, a large and hot hand trailing from one of your breasts to dip behind the fabric of your panties. The sigh that left your mouth was deep and heavy, your head whipping down to look at him as his fingers dipped between your folds, sliding through the wetness of your slick. You dug your fingers into the fabric on his shoulders, eyebrows pinching in frustration.

“Stop teasing, Kento.”

A thick finger dipped between your folds, pressing into the hole of your cunt down to the knuckle. You jolted against him, shaking a breathy moan from your dry throat as you glared down at him.

“Being teased doesn’t feel that great all of a sudden?”

His face was straight and unchanging, eyes holding a glint of mirth as his muscular arm moved back and forth, the wrist flexing as the thick finger attached stroked in and out of your wet center. You needed more, craved more; the itchiness of your skin was slowly starting to become more insistent, hips arching toward him begging for another to give you the stretch you were seeking. Your face was like an open book, your emotions and needs laid bare for him and he smiled in response, a rare show of pearly white and straight teeth shocking you.

“You want more, baby?”

Your cunt clenched around his finger at the name, more slick gushing out just from the heat and timbre of his voice. You bit your bottom lip, nodding fervently as you dug your fingers harder into the fabric on his shoulders.

“Is this not enough?”

You couldn’t help the small growl that bubbled in your throat, a glare shooting his way, cutting through his indifferent air and making him smile softly again. He finally relented, slowly pulling his finger out of you, reveling in the wet muscle that squeezed him in an effort to keep him inside. He swallowed a groan, cock twitching in his pants and eyes looking up at you as he popped the wet finger in his mouth, sucking off your slick with a leery gaze.

You couldn’t handle the teasing any longer, choosing instead to scoot back on your bed and plop your head down on the pillows to prop you up, watching in silence as Kento stayed kneeled at the foot of the bed, an elbow pressing into the sheets as he propped his chin on a relaxed hand.

“I thought you wanted me?”

It was a low blow for you to say, but with the arousal thrumming in your veins, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“I always want you.”

“Then stop stalling and take off your clothes.”

He sighed dramatically, slowly coming to stand as he cast you a look of indifference. He was playing a game that he wouldn’t win, and you intended to let him know that.

“Unless you’re stalling for a reason? Afraid you’ll bust too soon?”

That hit something in him immediately, his tall and muscular body freezing, intense eyes flashing with shock, realization of what you were doing, and then resolution as he narrowed his eyes. He knew you were goading him, could smell it from across your large bed; but he wouldn’t let you get away with it regardless.

Kento’s hands reached for the hem of his shirt, dipping beneath the fabric before he pulled it over his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. You clenched your thighs together at the sight; your haze all those months ago had not done the memory of him justice. You forgot about the smooth pectorals that pulled his shirts a little too tight, or the tight abs and v cut that led down to something promising in his pants. His torso was without blemish except the light dusting of blonde hair that trailed down and disappeared behind his belt. You pressed your fingers into your sheets as they itched to reach across the bed and touch.

“Bust too soon? You and I both know that’s not true. Now, spread your legs for me, baby.”

You were heating with embarrassment as you felt the blood boil beneath your cheeks, your chest hitching with breath as you slowly obeyed him, opening your legs to show him your lavender panties. Kento’s eyes seemed to dilate further as he looked down at your covered pussy, his mouth watering at the sight of the dark spot conveying the heavy arousal you were steadily giving off. You ignored the growing itch at the base of your spine as you watched him slowly unbuckle his belt and push down his pants and underwear, finally freeing the rest of his skin for you to look at.

You’d forgotten how big he was but seeing it again was jarring. Long enough not to be overbearing, but thick to the point your cunt throbbed in anticipation. His cock hung heavy, twitching at the act of you staring, the tip gathering a small drip of precum. You bit the inside of your cheek hard enough to draw blood, your patience pulling thin.

“Show me what I want.”

His tone left no room for argument, his eyes sharp and focused as he kneeled on the bed. Your hand trembled for only a second as you pushed your panties to the side, showing him your dripping cunt that was more than ready to be stuffed full.

He tutted, shaking his head in disappointment as he looked down at you.

“Don’t be shy. Show me all of it, baby.”

You whined softly, fighting the thrumming in your veins as you used your fingers to spread your folds apart, your hole fluttering from the sudden rush of cold air in the room. It was completely obscene, and your face was on fire, but you couldn’t bear the thought of him not touching you.

“Good girl.”

The praise washed over you like a wave of hot water, sliding over your skin and trailing down your body. You watched him crawl toward you, muscular shoulders bunching and curling over his rotator cuffs as he hovered over you, one hand bunching in the hair at the nape of your neck while the other slid your panties down your legs, your traces of arousal catching on the skin of your calves as the fabric dropped off the side of the bed. His lips were on yours in an instant, no more pretense necessary as you let his thick tongue part your lips and make a home in your mouth. It was messy and heated, your heart hammering as you tried to keep yourself under control.

The feel of two long fingers pressing hard against your clit had you arching up into him, a whine ripping from your throat and into his mouth as he licked the skin of your bottom lip. He circled slippery fingers once, twice, and one final time against your bundle of nerves before he slid his fingers inside of you without warning and up to the knuckle. You gasp harshly, pulling away from his mouth to dig your nails in the skin of his trapezius muscles.

“Such a wet little thing, you’re dripping.”

He fingered you with a finesse that had you trembling, the pads of his submerged fingers finding that spongy wall inside of you within a second before he was curling up, shooting burning pleasure through your core to pool at the base of your spine. He was relentless, curling over and over, thumb rubbing against your clit, his sharp eyes watching in concealed wonder as your moans grew in pitch, unflinching as your dug your nails harder into his skin.

“More Kento.”

You had planned to beg on his cock, you at least thought you would get that far. But the pleasure had come early just from his fingers alone and your dignity was in shambles. He tilted his head in confusion, a muscular arm still shifting with movement as he slowed down his ministrations.

“I thought I was giving you more?”

You whimpered hard in frustration, eyebrows pinching together and eyes prickling with the urge to build with tears. You blinked them away before they could form, frowning up at him.

“Stop it. You’re being unfair—”

He cut you off before you could beg any further, his eyes hard and the hand in your hair tightening fractionally as he spoke.

“You’re going to cum on my fingers and on my tongue, and then I’ll fuck you, darling.”

It was all you could ask for and still not enough.

“But—”

“Stop making demands when all you’ve done is tease.”

His tone was dark, heavy with lust and firmness as his fingers gave a sudden curl inside of you, pulling a loud moan from your mouth.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

Even with the haze in his mind, his concern was evident on his face. Always thinking of you, even when every part of his body wanted to bury inside of you. You smiled up at him, shaking your head as the childish frustration billowed away in the hot air between you.

“Never. I’m just being a brat.”

He hummed in agreement.

“Something you seem to do well.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, reveling in the chuckle that rumbled against your chest from him. He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, soft and reassuring to counteract the firmness he had given you just moments ago. When he pulled away, he brushed his lips against your nose, smiling softly as he looked down at you.

“If it’s ever too much, if I hurt you in any way or if you want to stop, tell me at once.”

You nodded quickly, anticipation beginning to bubble in your gut for the millionth time that night. He pursed his lips in disapproval, the fingers stilling inside of you immediately. You whimpered harshly, teeth digging into the skin of your lip as you fluttered your eyes up at him.

“Speak to me. I need you to use your words.”

“Y-yes. I promise, I’ll tell you if I want you to stop or if it’s too much.”

The disapproval fell from his face and disappeared in the heady scent of his cologne around you, a smirk etching in its place as he kissed your lips.

“Good girl.”

The praise was dizzying, his emotions were practically giving you whiplash as you struggled to keep yourself grounded as his lips trailed down your neck, sucking the skin to leave yet another mark before he licked over the spot in satisfaction. You buried your fingers in the pillow beneath your head, panting heavily as you watched him—eyes locked with his—as that familiar thick and wet tongue slid down your skin, gathering the salt between the valley of your breasts, over the gentle swell of your stomach and down to your throbbing cunt. His eyes stayed on yours, your skin heating with an intensity that was making you faint as you watched him use the hand not inside of you slide beneath your knee, pushing it up and over his shoulder. You obeyed his unspoken command to not look away even as he dug his straight teeth into the skin of your inner thighs, pulling a sharp gasp from you that grew in pace as he kissed closer and closer before his tongue licked a smooth strip up your clit, dipping between the two fingers submerged in you to join the heat inside. The moan that left you was broken and deep, satisfaction sliding into the air from your mouth.

You were beautiful, he thought to himself as he watched you; panting and moaning from your place on the sheets above him as his tongue stroked inside of you, alternating with the movement of his fingers. Your hands were buried in the pillow beneath you, pulling the fabric hard to cushion against your ears as your teeth dug harshly into your skin, your lips swollen and red. You wouldn’t last long, the increased blood circulation from pregnancy had left you sensitive and engorged all over, the pleasure ten times more intense, more sensitive, your cunt throbbing from every touch and that familiar white hot pleasure beginning to curl more at the base of your spine. You could feel the muscles in your legs and back begin to tighten, your stomach clenching and bunching with every stroke of his tongue on your clit and every curl of his fingers against your g-spot.

You were barely coherent as you felt the promise of your first orgasm of the night make its intentions known, your legs twitching and chest heaving as you felt your back begin to arch. He was a man starved as he ate you out, the thick muscle of his tongue brushing against your bundle of nerves at just the right pressure, his fingers twisting at just the right speed.

“One more, baby. Let me stretch you out so you can take me.”

You nodded obediently, slack jawed and panting up into the air as you felt another finger slide inside of you, stretching you to the point where you could only shake out a disbelieving moan, eyes squeezing tight as the pleasure began to race down your spine and into your cunt. Your hands flew into his hair, burying inside of thick and soft locks and pulling him closer to you, the action making him groan against your clit. The vibration only served as a kick start to bringing your orgasm forth, your moans climbing higher and higher in pitch until you felt him curl those three fingers one last time, bursting the gates open.

You cursed harshly into the air, hips writhing against his still moving fingers and tongue as your orgasm pooled down your legs and back into your blood, ready to circulate again when he was inside of you. Kento was practically rutting into the mattress, using any sort of friction to soothe the throbbing of his cock and disgusting thoughts of being inside of your tight heat as he slid his fingers out of you and crawled back up your body.

You watched him breathlessly as he popped a finger in his mouth one by one, sucking the juices of you from his skin. You reached for his wrist to stop him, wrapping your hand around it and pulling his hand toward you before you slid the last slick covered finger into your mouth, twirling your tongue around the appendage and admiring your own taste.

“Shit.”

The hiss from his lips was full of surprise as he watched you pop his finger from your mouth and push his hand back down to your cunt, pressing against you insistently before you whispered words to him that he had been dreaming for weeks.

“Fuck me.”

He hissed out another curse, sliding a pillow beneath your hips and making you comfortable above all else even though his blood was pounding in his ears, cock twitching to the point of pain. Your hands were burning on his skin, trailing up his chest to bury at the nape of his neck as you felt him press against your entrance, hot and leaking.

He kept his gaze on your hooded eyes as he pressed his hips forward, pushing into you slowly, groaning deeply at the feel of your muscles contracting around him as he made his way inside. Your eyes fluttered harshly, fingers digging into his nape as you felt the muscles in your cunt throb and pulse around him. He was right to finger you with three fingers, but even with that, the stretch of him was intense and overwhelming, bordering on a faint sense of pain that you had to pant your way through. He paused to let you adjust, both of his hands bunching the fabric of your pillows on either side of your head.

“God you’re so tight,” he whispered against your lips, kissing you softly and trying to will the perverted thoughts away. They were pleading with him to slam his hips into you, listen to you moan hard and beg for him to let you cum, scratch at the skin of his chest as he pounded you into the mattress. But it’s been months, and your comfort was more important to him above all else.

The small whimper from your throat pulled him back into the present, kissing your nose softly as he looked down at you.

“You’re doing so well, baby and I’m almost there. Can you take the rest for me?”

You nodded before speaking quickly instead as you remembered what he had asked of you earlier.

He inched further into you, the stretched muscles giving way a little more, pleasure taking its place as you finally felt his hips press against yours. Kento watched you whimper below him, eyes misting over as you squeezed his cock tight, begging for him to move not a second later. His thrusts were slow and calculated, measuring your comfort as he moved in and out of you, using your facial expressions as a compass for what felt okay to avoid hurting the life growing between you both. Even though he could feel you tense below him, your eyes were heavy, mouth open and panting as you trailed your hands down to his biceps.

“Relax for me, darling. Just a little.”

He grabbed your hip, using sudden strength to keep them steady, forcing your body to sag into the bed and his cock to sink into you further, pulling a loud moan from your lips.

“More—more Kento.”

He obeyed you immediately, picking up his pace and stretching the rings of muscles squeezing him like a vice. Your pulse was racing, your heart fluttering like a bird in your ribcage as moan after moan fell past your lips like water. He was hitting spots in you that no other man before could ever touch, handling you with care with the life inside of you but also fucking you with an intensity that had all sense of modesty splintering from you with each steady thrust of his hips.

“I’ve waited almost six months for this.”

The confession hung in the air between you both, no longer shocking you but still a surprise to hear, nonetheless. His blonde locks hung heavy over his forehead, a few tendrils pressing to the skin from the building sweat. His pupils were blown out considerably, lust and arousal oozing from them and falling down onto your skin. A scalding hand grabbed the flesh of one of your thighs, pulling your leg around his waist and sinking himself a little further into you.

“You would be ashamed of how vulgar I’ve been. I think about being inside of you all the time.”

He leaned down, crashing his lips to yours before he pulled away and licked up the side of your neck, panting heavy hot air against your ear.

“I think about how you felt around me that night every day when I’m at work, in the morning when I go for a run, in the shower when I have my hand wrapped around my cock…”

Your cunt fluttered around him, your reservoir of pleasure bubbling from the heat of your skin, spilling over the edges as each thrust began to push against the hard barrier of a rewarding orgasm. The hand holding up your leg smoothed down your skin to the crease of your thigh, angling your hips in a way that had him brushing against the sponginess of your g-spot harshly.

“Oh fuck, right there!”

He obeyed you quickly, adjusting his thrusts to only hit where you wanted him, marveling at your breathy demands. You should have been wincing in pain from the constant onslaught on such a sensitive area, but instead tears were pooling in your eyes, the pleasure squeezing your hips and thighs and lips of your cunt as you moaned unashamedly into the air of your bedroom.

“So fucking beautiful.”

You couldn’t help the yelp that left your mouth, cheeks coloring in embarrassment as you bit the corner of your lip, giving way for the moans to leak from the side of your mouth. You cunt gave another flutter around him, legs tensing and toes curling as brush after brush of his tip against that spot inside you had the tears finally spilling from the corners of your eyes. Your curls were wild beneath you, pooling on the pillow and sticking to the sweat on your face and neck.

“You don’t believe me?”

The hand at your hip grabbed an arm that was around his neck, bringing the skin of your wrist to his mouth before he pressed a soft kiss against your pulse. The breath leaving his mouth was quick against your skin, growing heavy and incessant with each pump inside of you. You couldn’t answer him, your throat was too busy pushing heavy moans out between pinched lips, eyes weighty with tears as you blinked them away constantly. You knew you were beautiful, but it was always scary to think about in such a vulnerable position like what you were in now, open and sweaty and aroused.

“I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else. And now you’re finally beneath me; sweaty and messy and moaning like the sweet little thing you are. And all mine.”

Your heart was soaring, mind racing and barely functioning from the heat that was frying the tissue. Every nerve had been exposed and frayed from his intense gaze and heavy touch, every inch of you had been laid bare for him to gawk at, pick at, lick at until you were nothing more than a bubbling mess.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?”

His tone was hard and firm, demanding that you acknowledge your own vulnerability and face it head on as he plowed into you with renewed fervor, your cunt quivering once before squeezing him tightly.

“Y-yes!”

He growled beneath his breath, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Yes, what?”

He pressed his cock harshly to the spongy wall of your g-spot, pulling a wet moan from your lips as you arched your back and sobbed in pleasure, your lower back tightening.

“I’m yours! I’m yours!”

The admission slipping from your lips filled you with a sensation of warmth, marveling at the thought of him only wanting this with you.

“That’s right, baby. You’re right there, I can feel it.”

His acknowledgement seemed to spur you on, the tight muscles of your back heating and burning beneath your skin, your legs twitching and pussy pulsating around him as you felt that white hot sensation burn you from the inside out.

“Gonna cum—I can’t! Oh god, I’m gonna cum K-kento!”

You were clenching him constantly, pulling groans from his full lips and refusing to be ashamed as you choked on your breath, toes curling into the sheets and head pressing into the pillow behind you.

“Take what you want from me, darling. Be a good girl and cum on my cock.”

You felt a thumb dip down to gather the wetness around your cunt before he stroked once then twice on your clit, yanking the orgasm from your spine.

His name fell from your lips, tears leaking from the sides of your eyes as the pleasure ebbed and flowed over your skin, licking away the dying embers as your muscles loosened and relaxed and you came floating back into your body.

You were eyes were heavy and your chest was heaving to catch your breath; satisfied and exhausted but still ready for more so he could cum.

Kento pulled out of you slowly before rolling you both over, your body now on top of him and still panting against his chest as he moved you both back so that he could sit up and rest against the headboard of your bed. You pulled away from his sweaty skin to look at him; exhausted and satisfied heaving breaths hitting his face as you pulled your hips up to hover over him. His cock was throbbing and red and wet from your arousal, twitching incessantly and begging to be wrapped in your heat again as you dragged your puffy and quivering pussy along the thick head of his tip. You smashed your lips against his, licking into his eager mouth as you sank down onto him in one fluid movement, leaving no time for him to adjust at the sudden sensation.

Large hands wrapped around your waist, squeezing hard to ground himself from the onslaught of the tightness that you encompassed. He pulled away from the wet kiss, hissing deeply from the feel of you, a soft moan panting hot into your mouth before he was guiding your movements on top of him, helping you slide up and down his shaft, the action easy from the soaked juices of your folds.

It took less than a minute before you were a woman possessed, bouncing on his cock with not a care in the world. Kento was struggling to keep up, hands slipping on the sweat of your skin as he gripped you harshly, angling your hips in a way that had him sinking deeper without causing discomfort.

His hair was a mess, more locks stuck to his face and forehead, eyebrows pinched in concentration, full lips parted slightly as he panted against you.

Suddenly you felt his hands dig into the cheeks of your ass, digging his fingers into the plushness of your skin and angling your back to arch your body into him so he could slip inside further.

“You feel so fucking good. So, so good. Hot and wet and tight, such a good girl.”

You were delirious with pleasure as you listened to him, basking at the feel of his thick cock sliding along your gummy walls that were quaking with overuse. You were overstimulated beyond belief, quivering against him and teetering between pleasure and sensitivity, lips brushing against his with every bounce on his length. The thickness of him and the feeling of being split open stoked some primal fire inside of you, your clit throbbing unexpectantly as it brushed against the skin of his abdomen over and over, the sensation making you shake.

You were going to cum again.

Your eyes were wide with disbelief, but your body had a mind of its own, determined to bring you to nirvana one last time before you passed out against him. Your jaw went slack, hands digging into his hair to anchor yourself as you rode him with a newfound fervor that had him reeling.

He was in awe of you as he watched you take control, thigh muscles bunching and clenching with your movements, never ceasing even though they began to quake in pain. The smell of sex in the air, the feel of your hot skin against his, your gold necklace slapping against your collarbone, nipples brushing against his chest, slick from your pussy sliding along his shaft and down his balls, it was all too much. He felt faint, head foggy with lust and a steady coiling pleasure in his stomach and balls that was making his muscles ache.

Suddenly the sounds coming from your mouth morphed into words, quiet and whispered against his lips as you spoke with unfocused eyes.

“So big—so big, split—splitting me open. I’m so full. More, more, more.”

The words were falling from your lips, uncaring if he or anyone else heard them, cheeks red from exertion and stained with drying tears, hair clinging to your face, nails digging into his scalp as you rode him with only one goal in mind.

He realized with a satisfied thought that you were using him, taking him in whatever way you wanted for your own pleasure as your blown out and unfocused eyes stayed locked with his.

He hissed your name, the familiar feeling of his balls tightening egging him on. As quiet and serious of a man as Kento was, he was surprisingly vocal as his groans increased in consistency.

“Tell me how well I’m fucking you.”

His command sliced through the air between you both, forcing you to come back to reality just a little bit. You were already delirious with pleasure, brain barely functioning as the weak embers of your impending orgasm steered your bravery to let the words tumble from your lips.

“You’re fucking me so well. Big and thick and fucking me just how I like. Keep going, Kento. Don’t stop.”

He groaned harshly into your mouth, eyebrows furrowing severely as he chased his release and equally yours, his cock hitting that spot inside you ceaselessly and pulling tears to your eyes again as you felt your body alight with fire.

You were steadily chanting into the air, breathy and delirious whispers of don't stop, don't stop, please don't stop sliding into his ears, making his heart hammer against his chest, his fingers clench harder into your skin, his desire for you swelling and spilling over the edges of his seal of control. 

He reached between you both, stroking your clit at a rate that had you throwing your head back and hollering into the night air. He watched your Adams apple bob and stutter inside of your throat, moans piercing his ears as your entire body seized and you fell over the cliff of ecstasy for the final time of the night.

His name fell from your lips in a broken cry, fingers wet from the sweat in his hair, squeezing and pulling from the tautness of your muscles. Your head was swimming through the thick fog of pleasure as you came back down from your high, throat dry and stuck as you swallowed your dying moans, your body still moving atop of him as you realized through your haze that he still hadn't cum.

A sharp groan from him pulled you a little more into yourself, gentle moans still leaving your mouth on a staccato from the force of his thrusts up into you. He had taken control of your body completely, squeezing the flesh of your ass and bouncing you on his cock with a fervor that made your entire body jolt from each thrust. You wrapped your arms tighter around his neck, whimpering and moaning against his cheek, exhaling heavily against his face before you leaned over and pulled his earlobe into your mouth, biting down on the skin. He flinched against you, groaning from surprise and arousal as you licked over the bite marks of his ear.

“You can do it, Ken, hmm?”

You were mad with satisfaction, fucked loose and sweaty and reveling in his sudden sharp breaths and moans against your neck and as he climbed further and further towards his end.

You were encouraging him, breathing hard and heavy into his ear, clenching your core around him in a way that made him see white, the tightness in his balls making dark spots form at the sides of his vision. You weren't like this that night at the hotel. You were drunk and moaning, glaring at him at every chance you could get even though your eyes were rolling with ceaseless pleasure.

But now you were completely yourself; hot and messy, clinging to him until there was no space between you both, dripping slick on every part of his groin and thighs, moaning and whimpering into his ear yes, yes, please, cunt clenching him to the point of delicious pain. 

The thought of being able to have this with you for the unseeable future had him bucking up into you harder, faster, deeper into your pussy until you wailed in his ear, tears spilling over your cheeks as your felt yourself clench impossibly tighter around him.

“That’s it, Kento. Beat this pussy up until I’m sore. Fill me up.”

Your words caught him off guard, unearthing a deep seated part of his brain that he didn’t want to acknowledge as his orgasm pulled from behind his belly button and ripped through him.

“Shit—shit—fuck!”

He moaned hard against the skin of your neck, squeezing you tightly as you felt him twitch harshly and spill into your wet heat, the warmth of it making you moan softly into the sweaty skin of his neck. You relaxed against him, sagging into his chest as you both basked in the comfortable silence of the cooling temperature of your bedroom, only your heaving breaths filling the air. You felt him press a warm kiss to your temple, pulling you back to look at him.

You soaked in the sight of him; forehead sweaty and matted with soaked blonde hair, a heavy ruddy color in his cheeks, his lips swollen and red. The brown of his eyes was returning as he down at you with a warmth that made your chest bubble with an emotion you either couldn’t place or wouldn’t acknowledge right now. He looked…blissfully happy. And it was evident more as a close lipped smile slid onto his face when he leaned down to press his lips to yours. You found your fingers carding through the hair on the nape of his neck, massaging and stroking his scalp as he pulled away to look down at you, his serious expression laced with a finality of what you both had just done.

You hummed, looking up at him before pursing your lips, your lids heavy with idyllic satisfaction and exhaustion.

“Not bad, slick.”

Kento chuckled harshly against your cheek before landing a smack to your ass that had you gasping up against him, giggles bursting from your throat at the shock and excitement as you watched him roll his eyes dramatically and slide out of you with a playful glower before carrying your still giggling form to the bathroom.

***

You realized with shocking—and satisfying—clarity that Kento was clingy, especially after sex. He had always hovered around you in public and even alone before you two had started putting your hands on each other, but now that an orgasm and acknowledged feelings were in the picture, his hands never stopped reaching for you. He couldn’t keep to himself in the shower, using your ‘fragile state as the mother of his child’ (his words, not yours) as an excuse to wash your body. He tried his best to feel on you through the soft fabric of your towel as he dried you off, quiet and observing as he wiped the pellets of water from your skin. He did give you space when you put on lotion, content to watch you with silent curiosity, a towel hanging low on his waist, as you lathered shea butter into your skin, paying extra care to the swell of your stomach.

You didn’t mind at all. He wasn’t overbearing in the slightest, you could tell he was making up for lost time. But you loved it all the same.

It turns out he really was serious about that movie he had brought up earlier in the night You watched him open Netflix on your laptop, eyes practically bulging from your skull as he pressed play for a movie that you would have never imagined him taking a second glance at.

“The Proposal?”

He looked back at you with a straight face, eyes indifferent and relaxed, his drying hair flopping against his forehead. His torso was bare, muscles bunching as he twisted back towards you, grey sweatpants—you thanked Ome mentally for liking to sleep in big clothes—stretching against his thighs as he pulled himself back towards your pillows and manhandled you to sit between his legs with your back to his chest.

“Is there something wrong with The Proposal?”

His voice rumbled against your back as you watched him use his foot to bring your computer closer, the movie beginning to play.

You flinched for a second as his hands carded through your curls, ignoring the cut reaction to smack his fingers away, and staying quiet as he parted down the middle and separated the hair into sections before putting your hair into long three strand braids and sliding the bonnet from underneath your pillow onto your scalp.

“H-how did you—”

“While many may think I am aloof, I do not thrive on being arrogant and misinformed about others who are not like me. Our daughter will be half Black which means things will be different for her in a way unlike everyone else. That includes her hair which needs unique care to be healthy. So I’ve been…watching videos.”

He cleared his throat, thankful you couldn’t see just how red his cheeks were as his fingers pressed down into the small of your back, massaging the sore muscles and undoing any kinks from the exhausting sex you both had basked in.

You couldn’t help the smile that broke across your face, your cheeks aching from the stretch, chest filling with warmth as you watched the movie in front of you.

You knew Kento was a different breed, but it felt so good to see it, to hear it from him. It felt good to imagine him hunched over, eyes squinting in concentration as he watched a YouTube guru on his television show him what a washday routine looked like. It felt good to think of your daughter in the same position you were in now; between his legs and watching tv as he braided her hair before bed. You cursed inwardly, blinking furiously as you felt a tingle in your eyes, willing away the tears before they could build.

“You’ll be a good father, Kento.”

The conclusiveness in your voice was enough to reassure him as he pressed further into the flesh of your back, humming in acknowledgement. He watched the movie in silence, eyes locked on the screen and arm moving fluidly as he rubbed your skin, watching as Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds bickered with one another.

“Why this movie?” You found yourself asking, unable to hide the curiosity for long. You felt him shrug from behind you.

“It’s one of my favorites.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, forcing yourself to remember this moment so you could tell Ome tomorrow. Nanami Kento may be serious and indifferent with a face that barely conveyed how he was really feeling, but you had gotten to see almost everything that others would never get to. They wouldn’t get to watch reality tv with him or try to bargain pieces of his R&B collection. They wouldn’t get to know that he liked cheese pizza with no toppings and thick crust.

Not even now would they be able to marvel at the rare low laugh that fell from his open lips, deep in his gut and free flowing against your neck, your body shaking with the force of him as both the main characters ran stark naked into each other on the screen of your laptop.

This Kento was reserved only for you.