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seekatiecry · 1 year

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After sunset

This is my first time ever writing anything let alone smut but I've already read all of the Quaritch fics and one-shots and drabbles on this godforsaken app AND ITS NOT ENOUGH🥹Sorry if it suckz💀

Recom!Miles Quaritch x Fem!Reader

Summary: Miles escorts you to look at plants(:

Warnings: M! Receiving oral, dom/sub dynamic, pet names, daddy kink

~~~~

“C’mon, little bug. The sun’s settin’ we gotta get back to base.”

You were sitting crisscrossed in the forest of Pandora, taking down notes of a new flower you had found on your little excursion. The sun was indeed setting but you couldn’t bring yourself to tear your eyes away from the little plant so you ignore the voice of the Colonel.

He reaches around you and takes your notebook out of your hands, looking at your little sketches and observations. “You know it’s not nice to ignore people, bug. ‘Know ya been busy but I can’t have you out after sunset. You know ‘S too dangerous.”

"Actually I don't know because I've never been out after sunset." You shot back, blue hands pulling at the plush grass beneath you.

"Stop poutin'. You know I ain't never lied to ya. What kinda man would I be if I took my baby bug away from her plants for no reason? Hm?" He tried to reason with you. The pout settled on your plump lips making him smile.

You huff, standing up. Your avatar was big but definitely nowhere near the size Miles was. He towered over you, jaw clenching when he saw your pretty little eyes roll at him.

"yeah yeah yeah." You mumbled, breathing out loudly but nonetheless, you start to collect the rest of your things that were scattered about. You bent down at the waist to pick up your pens when you feel a sharp sting to your right ass cheek.

You yelp and stand up straight as a board, turning around slowly to look at the Colonel with your mouth dropped open in disbelief.

"What was that for?!" You whined, softly rubbing the sore flesh on your behind.

His eyes were pointed, ears pinned back, "Keep the 'tude in check little girl or I won't bring you back out here again. Was nice to ya all day watching you take your little notes. If you don't get your ass movin', I won't be so nice anymore." His tail curled up behind him letting you know that he wasn't playing.

You playfully hiss at your lover, baring your sharp teeth at him.

His eyebrows jump up at your defiance. A small smirk pulls at his lips. "My little love bug gettin' all upset, hm? 'cause she's not gettin' her way?"

He crowds your senses. Walking around you silently, he decides to toy with you. A sharp tug to your tail makes you whine, turning sharply to meet his eyes which were lit up with amusement.

You snarl and jump at him, tackling him to the ground which he allowed, deciding to let you have your fun. Your tail swished happily behind you when your hands settle on the wide expanse of his chest.

You were perched on his abs as you leaned down, your nose softly bumping up against his. Your gaze locked on his lips.

"Did ya throw this fit all for a kiss, baby bug? Hm? You know all you haveta do is ask daddy nicely." He coos at you. You whine at his tone, nudging his nose with yours once more.

His strong hands grip your hips, thumbs rubbing your exposed belly softly.

"Please." Your eyes finally met his as you breathed out, wriggling in excitement.

The sun had fully gone down now. Bioluminescent dots scattered the scene around you. Even when the Colonel was focused on you, he still was keeping an ear out for any unwanted signs of life.

"Please, what?" an eyebrow jumped up in question as a hand moved up to the base of your queue making you cry out.

"Please, Daddy! Pretty please! Kiss me." your pleads came out in short, quiet breaths. You hadn't noticed the pout that weighed down your lips but he sure did.

A big thumb softly rubbed against your cheek when it settled to sup your jaw. He hummed when he felt your fingernails digging into the skin on his chest.

"Daddy doesn't know if you deserve it, bug. Been mean to me all day, haven't ya? Hurtin' his feelins since we left." He insincerely pouts at you, his grip tightening at the base of your queue.

You whine out a string of apologies. You didn't mean to be mean, you kept telling yourself. But that was a lie. You did mean it. And you would keep meaning it if it always ended up like this. Your body on his.

He tsks, the grip on your hip letting up as he starts to push you down his body. The cute little tears in your eyes egging him on to get you to apologize the right way.

"I know a better way to apologize. Want ya to kiss it better. Wanna do that for Daddy? Wanna make him feel better?" He taunts, sitting up finally when you're on your knees in between his legs.

Your wide teary eyes never leave his as your hands rest on his knees. Sniffling, you nod, starting to pull at the camo cargos that fit him so well.

He lifts up, letting you pull them down watching as your tongue darts out to wet your lips. You crawl closer to the bulge in his underwear.

"So eager to please me, aren't ya baby?" His big hand cups the side of your face, thumb wiping at a stray tear that had fallen.

You were so cute like this, he thought. So eager and ready to impress. No matter the tears in your eyes, your tail that was excitedly swishing behind you gave you way. Like a little puppy. Pawing at his cock like a bitch in heat.

"Well, whatcha waitin for, love bug? Make daddy feel good." He pulls his underwear down, letting your favorite treat spring out rock hard as it hit his abs. Softly stroking himself under your heated gaze.

You replace his hands with your own, spitting on the tip. The grip you had on the base tightened as you touched him. You licked the tip when a pearl of precum oozed out.

His hips gently rolled upwards, pushing a little more than his tip threw the plush of your mouth. He kept his eyes on your face trying to focus on keeping his eyes open.

Bucking up, he pushes more into you. His hands are now tangled in your hair as he sets the starting pace. You moaned deciding to stick your tongue out past your lips to trace the thick vein that ran on the underside of his cock. With each thrust, more of your spit coated him.

"Fuck-" He cursed. Your hums filled the air leaving little vibrations on the most sensitive part of him. He pushed your head down getting greedy to fill your throat full of him. "My good fucking girl. Ya always make Daddy feel so much better."

The hands in your hair had lighted their grip allowing you to pull away. Drool still connected you to him as you took a few deep breaths.

"More, please Daddy. I want more."

Miles always thought you begged so pretty for him. Just for him.

"More, love bug? think you can take it?" He smirked at the look in your eyes. Cock drunk already. No thoughts in your head, just him.

You nodded as soon as the words left his mouth. Smiling prettily at him, you lower your head back down taking him back in your mouth.

Miles groaned loudly bucking into the wet softness. The smell of your arousal cocooned him. He was so hard he thought if you pulled too hard you would snap him in half.

You watched as his eyes fluttered shut for a second feeling proud of yourself. It was short-lived though when they snapped back open to watch you choke. He had pushed your head all the way down so your nosed touched his navel.

He used the hand in your hair to keep you still as he dragged you back and forth to meet his hips. A tear had dropped from your eyes when he thrust hard into your mouth.

His pace was relentless from that moment forward. Fucking your face till he was satisfied. You knew he would stop at a tap from your fingers on his thigh but you didn't want him to. You deserved this. You deserved to be punished for making your Colonel sad.

The sounds of you choking filled the air.

"So good, baby. Daddy's not gonna stop till your little throat is the shape of my dick." Breathless words tumbled from his mouth as he used you.

His tip hit the back of your throat in the most delicious way making the muscles in your throat contract. A few stray tears fell from your adoring eyes.

The knot in his stomach tightened at the sight. So fucking gorgeous.

The Colonel's hips faltered as he pulled your mouth off of him, his chest moving up and down with the heavy breaths coming out of his mouth. He was disappointed with himself for not lasting long. What a chump.

"Where do you want Daddy's cum, little bug?" He asked, big hand moving to cup your face. His thumb smeared your spit over your lips before popping it into his mouth, savoring the taste of you on his tongue.

"My mouth please, Daddy. Wanna taste you." you took it upon yourself to wrap your small hands around his length. Squeezing the base, you jerked him off slowly.

Lowering your head and keeping your eyes on his face, you softly licked and sucked on his balls.

Your hands picked up the pace you heard him groan.

God he loved you.

He moved you back to his tip, gripping the sides of your cheeks to open your mouth. You engulfed him, going as far down as you could without his help.

He bucked into you until he came in the back of your throat, biting out loud curses and groans.

Your eyes fluttered closed and you moaned at the salty taste of him. You could never get enough.

When he was done he pulled you off of him, guiding you to sit in his lap to press his lips to yours. Fucking finally.

He took his time exploring your mouth. Kissing, biting and licking until he was satisfied. The taste of him still on your tongue drove him crazy.

You both pulled away with stars in your eyes.

"Whatdya say, baby bug?"

"Thank you, Daddy. love you so much." You smiled up at him before rubbing your face over his.

He hummed in approval, letting you scent him until you were happy. His hands moved to your ass, he yanked you flush against him and he basked in the feeling of your skin on his.

It was fully dark when the two of you returned to base. The Colonel definitely bruised your ass when you got back to your quarters.

#miles quaritch x reader #avatar #ATWOW #the colonel #miles quaritch #this was scary

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junesaber · 2 years

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“Tats and Bruises” Rated M

NSFW Fic #kacchako

Summary- Ochako has a consultation with none other than Bakugo Katsuki. One of The Top 10 Tattoo artist in Japan. He’s known for his surly attitude and overall brash demeanor and is damn near impossible to book a session. Ochako thinks she can handle him. She wasn’t quite prepared for what he’ll offer.

CW- Spanking, Slight Degradation, Dom/Sub undertones, bruising, biting, mentions of shibari, exhibitionism

I have it posted on AO3 and Twitter under JuneSaber ❤️

“What do you want?” Bakugo barked, not bothering to lift his head from his sketch pad.

There was a slight pause before a voice he didn’t recognize spoke up.

“Um…a tattoo?”

He threw down his pen and looked up to see a pretty brunette standing nervously at the doorway.

Bakugo Katsuki had made a name for himself over the last decade. It took months to get a consultation with him, and if you came across as an idiot, you either paid more or never got a chance to book a session with him. This girl was off to a shitty start.

She was probably his three o’clock consultation. He glanced down at his calendar at the highlighted name. Ochako Uraraka.

Bakugo scoffed. “Obviously.”

He motioned for her to enter. She walked in timidly, closing the door behind her. Bakugo gave her a once-over. Dressed in a loose-fitting gray Tee and a pair of leggings that hugged her curves. She looked like a dull, goody two shoes through and through.

Bakugo didn’t feel like working on a stupid cutesy tat. After she’s done stammering about what she wanted, he’ll send her over to Tsu.

“Walk me through it. Why did you choose me?

She absentmindedly picked at the bottom of her shirt. “I heard you were one of the best.”

He smirked.” I am the best.”

He pointed to the chair by his desk.

“Sit,” he commanded; the faster this was over, the better.

“Yes, sir,” Ochako mumbled under her breath.

She took her seat and looked at the man whose reputation brought her to this parlor. His ashen blond hair was styled in an undercut, the very tips of it dyed black. A line of piercings went across his right ear—sharp angular face and red eyes that were currently boring into her.

“Where do you want it?” Bakugo grunted.

“My…my thigh?“ she replied, her tone unsure.

He huffed in annoyance. “Fuck off if you’re going to waste my time.”

“Are you always such a dick?”

“Are you always this insufferable?”

Ochako bit down on her tongue. It probably wasn’t the best idea to piss off your tattoo artist.

“Are you going to be a big girl, and tell me what you want?” he asked, turning his chair towards her.

“I want it on my thigh,” she replied, her voice more assertive this time.

“Yeah, no shit,” Bakugo replied with a roll of his eyes. “What do you want on your thigh? An infinity symbol?” He said with a shit-eating grin.

Bakugo leaned forward a bit. “A lover's initials that you’ll end up coming back for a coverup.”

Her face turned maroon. Oh, this man was a particular brand of an asshole.

“I want a girl bound and gagged surrounded by flowers.” Ochako blurted out.

He sat back in his chair, raised an eyebrow in surprise, and grinned.

“Kinky.” He pushed off the desk. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for the type.”

Bakugo reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a notebook shaped like a grenade. He opened it and grabbed a new pen. Ochako breathed out a sigh of relief.

“You got my attention. Now I need details.” Bakugo glanced down at her bag on the floor.

“You got any reference pics?”

She shook her head. “I saw your portfolio. I’ll take whatever vision you have.”

Bakugo jotted down a few things in his notebook before turning back to her.

“How big do you want it?

“Pretty big,” Ochako said as she pointed to the area; she wanted to be inked. “I have a lot of canvas to work with.”

He eyed her legs with an approving stare.

“What are things you like?” Bakugo asked as he jotted down the dimensions.

“Um…I really like space. Pink. Mochi. Books.” Ochako's voice dropped down to a whisper, “rope.”

Bakugo couldn’t hold back his smirk. He misjudged this girl.

“Anything you want me to avoid?”

“No roses. Not heavily colored.”

“What position do you want her in?“

“Can I give you two, and you pick whatever you like best?” She asked, suddenly shy.

“Two?” He questioned.

“I wouldn’t want to hinder your vision, but they’re my favorite positions.” she replied apologetically, “either a hogtie or the crab.”

Bakugo eyed her and shrugged. “Whatever,” he replied with no malice in his tone.

He scribbled something in his notepad before slamming it shut.

“See you in two weeks.” He stated before waving her out of his office.

Ochako stepped out of the tattoo parlor, her appointment secured.

“What an asshole,” she thought to herself.

If he weren’t such a dick, he would be pretty damn attractive.

Two weeks on the dot, Ochako received two text messages.

“Pinky here from Explosion Tattoo and Piercing! Your appointment is going to be around 4-6 hours. Bring snacks, air pods, and your phone charger. Oh, and water, but we have some in-house if you forget. Whatever makes you happy and keeps you entertained (boss man ain’t the type for chit chat as an FYI.),” the first message read.

The second message was much shorter.

“Wear pants that are easy to take off. No underwear. Don’t be late.”

Thankfully no one was around to see her cheeks flush red.

No underwear?

————————

Bakugo pulled out his tablet and brought up two files.

“Here are the stencils I drew up.”

“Oh wow,” Ochako gushed.

One was a girl with a crown of planets on her head staring out into a watercolor cosmos. She was crab tied, her head leaning toward her right shoulder, staring at the scene above her. The ropes were the palest shade of pink. An open book by her feet opened to a page of lavender fields.

The other was laid out daintily on a bed of soft grass, rosemary and lavender. Her face was serene, the indentations of the supple ropes apparent against her curves as the girl pressed her face against the petals. Her skin kissed by the sun.

“I don’t know how to pick. They’re both so amazing.” Ochako exclaimed, switching back and forth between the two images.

“Don’t I know it,” Bakugo said smugly.

Ochako was giddy. “Can I have both?”

“You’re booked for one.”

“I mean, I have two thighs.” She pointed to the girl hogtied on the field. “Can I save this one for another day?”

“Let’s finish this one first before you start getting ideas.”

Bakugo stood from his desk and went to a narrow closet by his table. He reached into a bin and pulled out a dark green towel with orange stitching along with a plastic spray bottle.

“Oi,” he called out and tossed it to Ochako.

He sprayed down the chair before grabbing a handful of paper towels to dry it.

“I’ll leave the room to print out your stencil,” he pointed to the table. “You get settled and throw that towel over yourself.” He ordered as he walked out the door.

“Don’t waste time,” she heard him mumble through the wood.

Ochako quickly took off her pants and grabbed her bag. She placed it on the table that was by the chair.

Sitting in this room in her hoodie and a thin cotton towel covering her bottom half, Ochako felt so exposed.

“I’m ready!” Ochako called out with a shaky voice.

Bakugo walked back into the room with a tray in hand. He closed the door behind him and locked the door. With his free hand, he brought a small sliding table by the sink to her chair and kicked over a small bar stool.

Bakugo sprayed down the chair and table, wiping them up quickly. He quickly gathered his supplies. Setting them on the table on top of what looked like wax paper.

She watched as he set up, entranced. He moved quickly and methodically. Items seemed as if they appeared from thin air—a disposable razor, nozzle bottles wrapped in plastic, spray bottles, shaving cream, and little cups that he filled with colors.

Bakugo put on a pair of gloves and grabbed the razor along with the shaving cream. He pushed the towel off her thigh and quickly shaved the area. He grabbed a bottle from his tray and rinsed. He scrubbed something on her skin before he rinsed the site again.

Bakugo stood, stencil in hand, as he eyed her thigh, placing it on the freshly cleaned area.

“Don’t touch it,” he growled as he picked up the paper towels and razor, tossing them into the bin.

He slowly peeled the stencil off. “What do you think,” he asked her.

“It’s perfect,” Ochako replied, in awe of this masterpiece that adorned her skin.

Bakugo nodded to himself, satisfied with his setup. He placed on a fresh pair of gloves,grabbed the needle, and turned his attention back to her.

“Spread your legs a bit.”

She shifted them open slowly.

Bakugo placed his dominant arm between them, and Ochako bit her lip to keep a groan from escaping her lips.

She could faintly hear the music blasting through his one-air pod as he leaned over her thigh.

He looked up at her stone-faced. “Don’t move, and don’t be a baby about it.” He chastised before he leaned forward, turned on his needle, and began to get to work.

The first line was exhilarating. The sting of the needles against Ochako’s thigh gave her a head rush.

She could feel the heat pool between her legs.

“Oh no!” She thought to herself. Why must her body betray her?

She needed a distraction, so she looked down at the man currently between her thighs.

Watching him bent over her leg just inches away from her core. Fuck why did he have to be so damn handsome?

This wasn’t helping. Ochako felt her face flush with heat. She could already feel the wetness pooling on her lips.

Maybe once he’s done, she could use the towel to wipe it up, and he’d be none the wiser.

“If you keep squirming, I’ll never finish. Going to have to charge you for the extra time.” he reprimanded.

“Sorry, pain sometimes, kinda… Um, does things to me.”

He quirked an eyebrow before bending over and returning to his work.

Ochako focused on her breathing, trying to remain calm. But the sting of the needle felt too good. Her skin erupted in goosebumps, and it took all her might not to shiver when he reached a particularly sensitive spot.

The minutes dragged on slowly. Ochako attempted to read the book on her phone, but she kept rereading the first paragraph over and over.

She tried in vain to stay still, but she could feel her wetness begin to drip onto the seat.

The buzzing sound of the needle suddenly stopped. Ochako knew he must have noticed the mess she was making.

“I’m sorry. This is so embarrassing,” Ochako said, covering her face with her hands.

He sighed loudly and sucked his teeth.

“Guess I have no choice” Bakugo put down the gun on the tray and removed his gloves, tossing them into the can.

“You need a break.”

“No! I mean, yes. I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up.”

Bakugo shook his head as he stood from his chair.

“We’re never gonna finish if you keep acting like a bitch in heat.”

He went to the door and checked on the lock.

Bakugo turned back to her, and Ochako swore she saw the vermillion eyes darken.

He walked over to his sink and washed his hands. He rolled his shoulders and placed a hand on his chin, cracking his neck before turning the opposite way and repeating the motion.

“Don’t worry. I’ll help you relax.”

Bakugo pulled away the towel that was covering her shame. He smirked.

“Fucking knew it.”

She covered her pussy with her hands, trying in vain to hide the wet spot on the cushion below her.

He leaned forward. His face inches away from her own.

“How about I take care of that for you?”

Ochako looked up at him, mouth open in shock.

“Look, I’m not gonna get any work done if you keep squirming like some horny rabbit.”

He grabbed her wrists in one hand and pulled them up. If she weren’t in this particular situation, Ochako would admire how his hand enveloped her wrists.

He brought his other hand down between her legs. Using his middle finger to lightly graze her entrance gathering the slick and slowly pulling it up till he landed on her clit.

She desperately tried to bite back her moans.

“Is that a yes?” he asked slyly.

“You don’t have to. I’m sorry. I’m-“ she stammered out.

“Hey,” his voice impossibly gentle. “You’re not the first one who’s needed a hand on my chair.”

Bakugo leaned closer. His lips ghosted by her ear.

“Let me help.”

This Adonis of a man managed to break down the last of her resolve with just three words.

“Please,” Ochako whined.

“Good girl.”

He placed one arm on the base of the chair by her head. Bakugo reached in between her legs again. Pressing his thumb against her clit.

Ochako was in heaven. Bakugo somehow knew exactly what she needed. The perfect amount of pressure, the precise movement of his fingers. Her hands clamped down on the cushions of the chair. He leaned forward, running his teeth over the hollow of her neck before he bit down, dragging a loud satisfied moan out of her.

“Hey, Pinky! Does Kat have an appointment now?” A male voice said suddenly from the hallway.

The stranger's question pulled her back into reality. How could she be so stupid? She forgot they were in his studio. Anyone could hear her moaning like a wanton whore.

“Wait, they can hear,” she whispered, reaching between her legs to stop his hand from moving.

“Fuck those extras.” he snarled. “Focus on me,” Bakugo demanded.

He attacked her clit with fervor. She was so close, having been edged by the needle these past two hours.

How could she not? His fingers were seconds away from bringing her over the edge. She gave in to his ministrations. Extras be damned.

“God, you’re so wet,” he said huskily.

He pressed a few small circles against her sensitive nub before dipping down and pushing his finger into her wet heat.

“Wish I could stuff this cute little hole,” Bakugo whispered as he pumped into her. Crooking his finger against her sensitive walls, searching for her sweet spot.

She was desperate for release, and the idea of getting fucked on this chair made her crave it. “Please?” Ochako whined.

His hand faltered for a second before he resumed his pumping.

“You sure?” He asked.

She nodded, biting her lip. Bakugo pulled his fingers out of her center, and she moaned at the emptiness.

“Stand up, and lean over the table. I ain’t fucking up my work 'cause you’re desperate for my cock.”

“Why that way?” She managed to ask as she slipped off the table.

“With thighs this thick, can you blame me for wanting to grab them and mark them up? Can’t have that.”

He ran one finger on the crest of her hip. “So these will do.”

She wanted it so bad. But Bakugo was right. He can’t fuck up his canvas. Ochako leaned over the table, standing on her tiptoes to give him a better view.

“You said you like pain?”

He slapped her ass.

“Yes or no?”

She nodded, the pain making her thighs tremble.

“Oi, be direct, or you’re not getting my dick.”

“Yes, please. Hit me. Hit me harder,” Ochako begged, relishing the sting.

“Such a little pain slut.” Bakugo said with a devilish sneer. He brought down his hand to her left cheek, the force almost knocking her forward.

He rushed to his desk and yanked open a drawer, pulling out a condom. Bakugo ripped open a corner with his teeth and pulled on the rubber over his throbbing member.

Bakugo stepped in between her spread legs. Ochako immediately bowed her back, desperate for him to stuff her full.

"Such a needy slut," she heard him mutter under his breath.

God, she needs him to keep talking. Degrade her, use her. Anything, if it meant she could finally cum.

He rubbed his hand over her right cheek before delivering a harsh slap.

Ochako shrieked.

"Again!" She demanded, arching her back as far as it could go.

Bakugo palmed her cheek before delivering another hard slap.

Ochako gripped the chair, eyes glassy, relishing in the pleasure.

Bakugo leaned down

"You take my hits so well; such a good girl," he whispered into her ear.

He lined himself up against her hole. Bakugo dug his fingers into her hips and thrust forward.

"Fuck” he groaned, "you're so fucking tight."

He pulled back slowly, enjoying watching her squirm. He let the tip of his cock tease at her entrance. Ochako let out a small whimper.

"Please," Ochako begged as she tried to push herself back onto his cock.

Bakugo gripped her hips tighter, his fingers sure to leave bruises.

"What? You don't want it nice and slow?" he taunted.

She shook her head, tears threatening to spill over.

"Since you've been a good client and haven't complained." he mused, massaging soothing circles on her reddened cheeks. "I guess I can give you what you want."

Bakugo slammed his hips forward, knocking the wind out of her.

He began a hard, brutal pace. Ochako barely had a chance to breathe between thrusts. She couldn't form words, unable to manage a gasp from his relentless pounding. Bakugo reached his arm between her legs, his fingers finding her clit. He pushed against the sensitive bud, and Ochako saw white. Her orgasm rushed over her.

Bakugo didn't stop his brutal pace. He pulled his hand back and grasped her hips, pulling her toward him as he continued to thrust into her as forcefully as he could. Her feet almost lifted off the floor as he continued on, chasing his own release.

He abruptly stopped with a loud groan. Bakugo wrapped an arm around her waist and used the other to braced himself against the chair. The both of them panting heavily. They stayed like this for a few moments, catching their breaths as he softened within her.

Bakugo stood and pulled out, quickly removing and tying the end of the condom. He tossed it into the bin. Ochako felt boneless, leaning her entire weight on the table, making no attempt to get upright.

As she came down from her high, Bakugo reached into his pocket and pulled out a small white tube.

“Hnng?” She mumbled in question

“Some numbing cream; I did a number on you there.”

He gently applied the cream onto her reddened cheeks. She let out a soft moan.

“Don’t get riled up now,” Bakugo said with a smirk.

He capped the cream and threw it back in the drawer. He gently lifted Ochako by the shoulders and hugged her tightly. Peppering the side of her face with soft kisses.

She sighed in contentment, melting into his embrace. They stayed like that for a few moments before he gently pulled away. He laid a towel on his desk chair and pulled her over to sit. He threw another clean towel over her and patted her head before reaching into the small mini fridge by his desk.

He pulled out a water bottle, twisted the cap, and handed it to her.

She graciously accepted.

He reached into it again before pulling out a small, slender package of mochi. He shut the fridge door with his foot and tore open the box laying it in front of her on the desk.

She watched through hazy eyes as Bakugo disinfected his station, occasionally sipping from the bottle in her hand.

He walked back toward her.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and soothing.

She could vaguely make out the questions he asked. Letting him help her stand and leading her back to the table.

Bakugo resettled her into the chair and threw another towel over her. He cupped her cheek and gently ran his thumb over it. Murmuring till she resurfaced.

“Hey,” Ochako said, blinking slowly.

“Hey,” he replied, his vermillion eyes on her. “Ready to call it a session?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to ruin your work,” she said as she looked down at the half-finished piece.

He nodded.

“Let’s get the outline done,” he said after eyeing the clock “we can always book another day if you can’t. Just tell me if it’s too much.”

He rewashed his hands and put on a new pair of gloves. He returned to work in silence, and Ochako leaned against the cushion, sighing in contentment. The sting of the needle was now soothing. Ochako reached into her purse on the side table and pulled out her headphones. She set up her favorite playlist and settled against the chair in a dreamless sleep.

“Oi. Wake up”

Her eyes opened wide, confused for a brief moment before remembering where she was.

He clicked on a small ring light, and Bakugo leaned over, taking a few photos from different angles.

“She’s so pretty, Ochako’s said in awe as she admired his art. “Thank you.”

“Here,” he handed her a pamphlet on tattoo care.

“Talk to Pinky up front to set up your next appointment.” He said as he exited the room. “She’ll have your bill ready.” Bakugo called back behind him.

Ochako slipped on her sweats, careful not to rub the material in her fresh tattoo.

She walked slowly over to reception.

The pink-haired girl gave her a once over as she smacked her gum.

“Don’t worry; he doesn’t charge extra for rocking your world,” she said with a wink.

Ochako turned to beat red, dropping her wallet onto the counter.

“I…Um. Ok.” She stammered as she picked up her wallet and shakily passed her card to the girl.

Ochako wanted nothing more than to get home and sleep. Now that the high had worn off, she was beyond embarrassed by what went down today.

Bakugo was leaning against the wall outside the parlor, cigarette dangling loosely from his lips as he idly scrolled his phone.

She hurried past him, keeping her eyes on the sidewalk, avoiding his gaze.

“See you in a few weeks,” he said behind her.

A shiver went up her spine. Maybe if she asked nicely, he’d be up for using the rope she had in her bag to keep her still.

#kacchako #kacchako smut #ochako x bakugou #tattoo au #kacchako fic #smut fic #au fic

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mookie--jam · 2 years

Text

Chapter 14: Mom Jean Muse (Empty Canvas)

The steps squeak beneath my feet as I make my way up the stairs to Corrine’s apartment. Well, not really apartment. She lives in her art studio, which is an old ballet studio in what once was an old community center which the city closed about a decade ago. It wasn’t really located in the best part of town, but that made the rent cheap. The walls of the staircase were still covered in graffiti from squatters that had occupied the building some time ago. I reach the door of the apartment and knock. After a minute it opens, Corrine greeting me on the other side.

“Hey”, I say as she gives me a broad smile and pulls me in for a tight hug.

“Thank God you’re here. I thought you might not come”, she says as she lets me go and we both make our way into the studio. The wooden floor is splattered in paint, the floor to ceiling mirror on one wall reflecting the light that’s coming through the windows fills the room with brightness.

“What would make you think that?” I ask her as I take off my jacket and throw it onto one of her stuffy old armchairs, along with my bag. I’m quite sure a cloud of dust puffed out of the chair as iIdid that.

“Nothing…” Corrine says, stepping back on her words. I decide to let it go.

“Anyhow thanks so much for doing this”, she adds, giving me another one of her broad smiles.

“No problem, though I don’t see why you’re so damn excited about me being a model for some sketches”, I tell her as I look around the room. I can see she’s already set up her easel and other equipment, an array of pencils, charcoal and pens lying around on the tables along with all different kinds of paint.

“Because the only models I’ve had lately are Jeff and Johnny”, she explains to me with and exasperated sigh.

“And what’s the matter with that?” I question her as I sit down on the couch. From the way her easel is set up, I can deduct that that’s probably where I’ll be sitting for the next couple of hours.

“Well drawing Jeff is no problem at all, also because he’s very willing to pose in the buff, which is great…” she says, first with a smile on her face, but by the end of the sentence it has somehow disappeared as she’s pondering her words.

“But…” I nudge her to continue.

“If I have to stare at his naked body for hours and study and draw it… I don’t know, it kind of take the sexuality out of him”, she says sounding somewhat distraught. I know better than to laugh at this. Corrine is a highly sexual and passionate person, so I can see how this could be an issue for her.

“Which is something you don’t want”, I add in, attempting to finish off her thoughts.

“Which is something I can’t stand, because I enjoy fucking him a lot!” she says, probably a lot louder than she intended to. Thank God her neighbors are all stoners, who couldn’t give two shits about the noise.

“I see”, I say and nod, wanting to move on from the topic, because I really don’t feel like Corrine rubbing her wonderful sex life under my nose. Certainly not now.

“But what about Johnny? I ask, trying to change the topic.

“Don’t get me started on Johnny!” she lets out, sounding aggravated.

“You want some wine?” she quickly adds after that. The words haven’t even completely left her mouth yet and I’m already eagerly nodding. I need all the wine in the world after the complaints of Mrs. Moore in the President Suite all damn day. Sorry we got you Dom Perignon instead of Crystal, you stuck up piece of shit. She’s one of the three black widows that frequents the hotel I work at and they are all a nightmare.

“Do you even have to ask?” I say, letting out a little laugh as Corrine is making her way over to her kitchen.

“Gotcha”, she says with a smile as she takes a bottle of red wine from the cabinet and two glasses.

“But no what about Johnny?” I ask her again as she makes her way back over to me, uncorking the wine in the progress.

“He’s such a…” The frustration is evident in her voice as she pours us two glasses of wine.

“Diva?” I attempt to finish her sentence.

“Precisely”, she says, sounding somewhat relieved as she hands me one of the glasses of wine.

“I draw him with a skin roll and he thinks that I think that he is obese”, she clarifies herself after taking her first sip. I take out my packet of cigarettes and light one, figuring that I won’t be able to smoke for a while when she’s drawing me, as I have to sit still.

“Which is absurd”, I retort, blowing out the first drag.

“According to his words: ‘ladies feel insecure’”, she says rolling her eyes as she makes air quotes.

“Ladies? Oh God, please don’t tell me…” Before I can even finish my train of thought, Corrine is already completing it for me.

“That he insisted on me drawing him in drag?” she asks and I nod my head with a wide smile at the thought of it alone.

“Yes, that’s exactly what he did”, she confirms my suspicions and I let out a laugh.

“Oh my God, I need to see those drawings”, I tell her, taking another drag. I wonder which outfit he whose, and which pose. God, what I would give to have been a fly on the wall when this happened.

“Later”, she tells and takes another sip of her glass of wine.

“Because I need you in a calm mindset to model, and not frantically laughing at the exaggerations I made on his wig”, she explains and I nod, though I can’t contain my smile at the thought of it alone. I take another sip of wine.

“Then stop teasing me about it, because it’ll be the only thing I’ll be able to imagine”, I say as finish my cigarette and put the wine glass down on the coffee table in front of me.

“Deal”, she agrees with a big smile, rummaging through her pencils, glass of wine still in hand.

“So… What do you want me to do? Do you have a concept?” I ask her as I try to think of a position to pose in. I’ve never done this before. She’s asked me many times, but I’ve always declined, telling her that I don’t have the time. Most of the times my excuses were made up as I just didn’t feel comfortable with the thought of drawing me, analyzing every bit of my body. But now I had to agree. Mainly because I’ve been a social recluse for the past two weeks ever since stuff went down with Eddie. I’ve just been trying to come to terms with it on my own. Truth be told, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done and I feel utterly miserable. Every time I hear them rehearse I want to storm down to the basement and beg him to forgive me.

“Yes, but only if you’ll agree to it”, Corrine says and she has a somewhat mischievous smile on her face.

“Depends on what I need to agree on”, I say, watching my words.

“Well I’ve got this image of you on the couch wearing those high waisted mom jeans of yours -by the way, thanks for wearing those”, she says and I let out a sigh of relief. If that’s all I’ll be fine.

“No problem. And I can do that”, I tell her with a smile, but my smile drops when she tells me the following.

“But there’s a catch”, she adds her voice filled with mischief. What the hell is she planning on.

“What’s the catch?” I question her, pulling my guard up a bit. It’s probably not gonna be an outrageous request, but then again, with Corrine you never know. For all I know she wants me to hold a monkey.

“I want to draw you topless, with your mermaid hair just gorgeously flowing down. Would you do that for me? Please?” she tells me and I’m taken aback for a minute. Topless posing? Me? It’s not that I don’t trust her, or would feel uncomfortable wit her… But…

“Corrine… I don’t know…” I tell her honestly.

“Those drawings aren’t going anywhere and it’s just the two of us. And I’ve seen you naked before, so nothing new there”, she tries to reassure me and it’s somewhat working, but not completely yet.

“Yeah, I know but…” I say and I can’t get the words out of my mouth. What I want to say is that I’ll probably look ridiculous. That I’m not the kind of person she should be asking to do this. She should ask someone like Betty, who works behind the bar at OK Hotel, she’d be up for that. But me?

“But what?” she asks me, like I’m sounding ridiculous. I don’t think I sound ridiculous at all.

“I really don’t know if I would be able to pull that off”, I tell her honestly.

“Nonsense! You’re gorgeous”, she lets out in complaints as she’s sharpening on of her pencils.

“But…” I mumble, though I know that it’s no use, because she will find a way to convince me.

“Come on, you’d look so great”, she tells me with a pout.

“You see that’s the part I’m questioning”, I retort and I wrap my arms around myself, as if I’m trying to add another layer to the area she wants to see exposed.

“Well, I need to practice realistic drawing, so if I succeed the drawing will be a masterpiece, because you, my dear, are one of the most stunning creatures I’ve ever seen walk the earth”, she says and her words put a smile on my face. I don’t agree with what she’s telling me, but it still feels nice hearing somewhat say such a thing.

I’m reminded of something Eddie one said. I think it was somewhere during the night he got back from San Diego. I’d gotten up to put on another record -still naked, I don’t know what got into me, usually I’d drag along a sheet- and as a turned around he was looking at me with this smile playing across his lips. “What? I remember saying, feeling somewhat self conscious. “The way your body curves and your hair falls and your face…” he said and I sat back down on the side of the bed, pulling a cover up to my chest to cover myself back up again, as I prepared to hear something bad. “You’re so fucking beautiful, you’re like a piece of art”, he told me and those words put the most stupid smile on my face.

“Coco, I’m not Johnny. I don’t need as many sweet nothings”, I say, pulling myself away from my memories, because the after thought stings. That’s something I had, and have no longer.

“So you’ll do it?” Corrine asks me, getting giddy.

“Yes I’ll do it”, I confirm and she leans over to give me a quick hug.

“You’re the best. Now you strip down and make yourself comfortable on the couch, I’ll put on some music and get settled and then we can get going”, she tells me.

“Great”, I mumble as she walks away to her record player. I decide to do as told and take off my Zeppelin shirt and my bra. I feel exposed for a second, but try to shake it off. No one is gonna see the drawings, it doesn’t matter. I relax as soon as I hear the opening notes of Second Hand News by Fleetwood Mac rolling through the apartment. Stevie Nicks has a way of calming me down. Corrine knows me too well. I sit down on the couch and Corrine comes over and gives me some instructions for the pose. The pose we come up with feels comfortable. I’m leaning back against the couch, one leg on it, the other hanging off of on. My one hand is resting on my knee, the other is beside my body. She adjusts my hair, letting it cover most of my breasts, except for the underboob area, something I feel comfortable with. She tells me to look a little to the side, in something she calls a three quarter profile. When she’s satisfied she goes to stand at her easel and puts her pencil to the paper, beginning to sketch me.

“So, my dear, please talk to me”, she tells me, looking from behind the paper.

“It’s okay for me to move my lips?” I ask her, trying to move them as little as possible.

“Your lips and just your lips”, she tells me and lets out a little laugh.

“Okay, great. What do you want to talk about?” I say, moving my lips now.

“I don’t know, what have you been up to lately, because I’ve barely heard from you. Anyone for that matter”, she asks me. I knew something like this was gonna come up. She’s been smart about it though, making sure I’m trapped in a position, so I can’t run away and avoid talking about it.

“Not much really, just work”, I tell her, trying to brush off my recent loner behavior as nothing.

“Just work?” she questions me, raising her eyebrows as she peaks from behind her easel again.

“Just work”, I repeat, hoping she’ll let it go.

“And nothing else?” she further questions.

“Why is that so strange?” I retort. Sometimes attack is the best method of defense.

“No, not at all…” she tells me and for a second I think she has been able to let it go.

“Have you been hanging around with some people?” she pries for more and I have to refrain myself from letting out a sigh, because that would move my chest, and thus my hair and that would probably leave me exposed.

“What do you mean?” I ask her, trying not to frown as well. I know what she’s trying to get at, yet her methods seem somewhat unconventional.

“Like meeting up with certain people?” she asks me innocently.

“No”, I tell her quickly, hoping that the shortness of my answer will let her know to just let it go.

“So a solitary phase?” she asks me again. God, this interrogation is making me feel more uncomfortable than the fact that I’m half naked.

“I guess so”, I mutter, but then decide that we need to get to the point.

“Corrine I have a feeling you want to talk about something specific”, I tell her and normally I would give her a semi-death stare but I have to maintain the three quarter profile she’s put me in.

“No not at all”, she says quickly, scoffing the words.

“Coco, have I ever told you you’re a horrible, horrible liar?” I ask her, calling her out on her bullshit. She knows she doesn’t have to do that with me. She knows I’d rather have her be honest and get to the point, instead of insinuating stuff.

“What can I say? I’m a painter, not and actress”, she says in her defense and I can’t help but chuckle a little, though I try to hold it back to maintain my position.

“Good point, but what’s on your mind?” I ask her, wanting for her to just bite the bullet and get to it, because all of it is making me horribly nervous.

“I’ll say it, if you promise me to stay put, because that position is perfect”, she tells me, somewhere between panic and seriousness.

“Corrine you’re worrying me”, I say, because she actually is.

“Promise me”, she insists and I can’t help but let out a sigh. I’m relieved when I find out that my hair hasn’t shifted. Thank God.

“Fine, I promise. Now tell me”, I nearly command her, because the tension is starting to get to me.

“The other day I met up with Chris for some coffee”, she tells me as she peaks from behind the easel again. Would Chris know? I decide to act nonchalant for a bit.

“How is he? I haven’t seen him in a bit” I tell her, trying to stay on the subject of Chris for a bit, because I know there’s something else coming and I have a feeling that I know what it is. I feel the dread rise up in me.

“Since the camping trip you mean,” she dryly retorts.

“Yeah, how do you know?” I ask her, still trying to keep her away from the subject, even though I know she’s damn close.

“Because… Dear lord… How… I don’t know… I mean…?” she begins to stutter and I realize we’ve reached the subject I was trying to avoid.

“Corrine, please form some coherent sentences, because I do not want to be drawn with frown lines on my face”, I tell her, wanting to get it over with.

“He told me that you and Eddie broke up”, she answer matter-of-factly and I’m taken aback by her directness. I don’t know what to say, so I decide to stay silent. It can only benefit the posing. My mind however is filled with thoughts. So Chris knows. How does he know? Did Eddie tell him? Eddie probably told him. Does Chris hate my guts now? I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. How is Eddie? I want to ask Corrine these questions and yet at the same time a part of me doesn’t want to know the answers at all.

“So it’s true then? Because when Chris explained the whole thing to me I was completely caught of guard, because I didn’t even know you were officially a thing. Like sure, I had my suspicions… But it’s over?” she asks me, putting her pencil down for a second and looking at me with eyes filled with worry and pity. Oh please don’t.

“Yes”, I confirm her questions, hoping that that one word will suffice, even though I know it won’t.

“Like over over?” she asks again to make sure.

“I’m afraid so”, I tell her, preparing for the questions to come.

“What happened?” she asks and I know she’s expecting a big answer, but I don’t really feel like explaining it all. It has been hard enough as is, without having to say those things aloud. Saying them aloud makes them feel so much more real and it just hurts.

“I changed my mind”, I say and I try to crawl back into my method of using coldness, but somehow my mind is refusing me to let me do that. I feel more vulnerable than ever. The fact that I’m half naked has little to do with it.

“Come again, please?” she questions, toying with the pencil in her hand, before putting it back onto the paper.

“I changed my mind. Remember when you and Johnny told me to give it a shot and see how it would go?” I try to start explaining to her, even though it feels like ever single word just wants to stay in my throat and doesn’t ever want to come out.

“Yes, the night of a thousand margaritas. I remember that night surprisingly well, considering the amount I had to drink”, she tells me, sounding very sincere even though she just referenced a night of heavy drinking.

“Well I gave it a shot”, I tell her and she perks up when she hears those words, but then reality hits her again, realizing that it didn’t work out.

“And?” she pries further, wanting me to continue.

“And it was great. It was wonderful. It was the best I’ve felt in a long time, maybe ever…” Goddammit, Lola, control yourself, is the only thing I can think of as I hear my voice cracking up. I cannot and will not cry. I’ve cried enough over the past weeks.

“Then how come it ended?” That question is one that will haunt me for eternity. How come it ended?

“Because I realized I was being selfish”, I simply say the answer I’ve been telling myself over and over again, trying to convince myself I made the right decision, even though I’m not so sure.

“Lola…” Corrine begins, but I can’t stand her bemotheringness right now.

“No, I was”, I tell, giving her the sternest look I can without ruining the profile.

“Eddie… He’s so sweet. He’s kind. He’s funny. He’s smart…” I want go on, but Corrine cuts me off.

“He’s gorgeous”, she adds, stating the obvious.

“Corrine”, I scold her, because this really is not the time to have this conversation. Again.

“Sorry”, she mumbles and gestures me to go as she disappears back behind the easel.

“He’s this perfect guy. And I realized that I don’t deserve him. I don’t deserve someone like him. And he certainly doesn’t deserve to be stuck to a mess like me. And I made him see that.” I made him see that the hard way and the thought of those last moments together haunts me once again. Those words have been repeating in my head over and over again. Get out. My pleasure.

“What do you mean with that?” Corrine says sounding more confused than ever.

“I made him realize what a fucking mess I am and I gave him a way out. Which he took.” He took it and ran with and who’s to blame him. No one. He did what he had to do. What I made him do.

“That’s not what Chris says”, Corrine states and her words take me out of those horrible memories.

“What does he say then? What did Eddie tell him? That I’m a complete nut case?” I fire questions at her, sounding angry and sad all at the same time.

“No, he told Chris that he was the one that fucked up”, she says and she gives me a confused look.

“What?” I ask her, my voice nothing more than a whisper. He blames himself? How the fuck can he blame himself? I’m the one that ruined everything and pushed him away.

“Lola, sit still”, Corrine commands me and I hadn’t noticed I’d been moving my arms up to my face to hide in them until she told me. I put them back in their original positions.

“Sorry… But what do you mean”, I mutter, still completely taken aback.

“Now what I need you to do, is not talk and sit completely still, I’m gonna draw your face. Can you do that?” she gives me my orders and I nod ever so slightly. She gives me a nod in return and focusses back on her paper.

“Great” she mutters. “It will also give me a chance to explain what I heard without you interrupting me with your self-denigrating monologues.” I wish I could scold her at this moment, but she’s got me in a place of complete obedience.

“From what I heard from Chris Eddie’s been a fucking mess”, she begins and those words feel like taking a bullet to the heart. I did that, is the only thing I can think as the guilt washes over me.

“He’s been cooped up in that apartment, fixing everything in sight. The cracks in the walls, the bathroom, the holes in Chris’ room. He even repainted it. And miraculously enough he managed to fix their oven. Now that my dear is an early Christmas miracle…” He fixed the cracks in the ceiling? He did that? Because of that picture?

“But I’m getting lost in my train of thought. Anyhow he’s been a wreck. So about a week ago Chris confronted him with it -and apparently nearly had to drag the words out of him- he said that you guys had talked about Andy and that it got rough. And Eddie thinks he overreacted and is blaming himself. I’ve called Chris every day for a check up, apparently he’s been hiding in his room for the past week, working on music. You can talk now”, she tells me and pears around her easel once again.

“I don’t know what to say”, I say honestly. He blames himself? Because he overreacted? He had ever right to act the way he did.

“How do you feel about the whole thing? And be honest. I don’t want the I’m fine bullshit or the I-saved-him-from-the-wreck-of-a-person-I-am bullshit. How do you feel?” Her bemothering character is really shining through today. But it’s maybe what I need at the moment.

“Awful… Horrible… Miserable”, I tell her, obeying her orders not to bullshit her, also because I can’t bring myself to do it. Part of me feels numb, numbed in shock by the fact that Eddie still cares, or seems to care.

“Why can’t you two just see that you need to be together? Sure there’s some hurdles to overcome, but let me tell you something. If love was easy, nobody would care about it, because it wouldn’t be special anymore”, Corrine says and I know she’s right. But I don’t want her to be right. Because he deserves better. He deserves so much better.

“Where the hell did you get that quote?” I ask her and let out a small chuckle.

“My heart”, she tells me dead serious and I can’t help but roll my eyes at it all.

“Jesus”, I mutter. Though I know she has a right to use such quotes. She and Jeff haven’t always had it easy, so she knows what she’s talking about.

“What I’m getting at is that you need to work things out”, she says getting to the point. However much I hate it when she mutters and mumbles, I hate it even more when she’s as direct as this.

“I don’t think we can”, I answer. I really don’t know if we can. I would want to, but I don’t know if I’m able to do it. And Eddie… He probably can’t bring himself to do.

“You think you’ve ruined your shot at being together?” she asks me, worry coming over her voice once more.

“Yes”, is all I manage to say with chocking up.

“I think you haven’t, but I know there’s no convincing you. So I’ll try to convince you of something else. Talk to him again, try and be friends” she tells me as if it’s the simplest, easiest thing to do.

“I don’t know, Corrine…” I mutter. How can I ask him to be my friend after I hurt him like that?

“And I know the perfect opportunity. Chris decided to hold Thanksgiving at his place this year, in celebration of the fact that the oven is working. The whole gang is coming. You need to come as well and then you guys can talk”, she says and something tells me she’s had this planned out all along. Corrine Neely, you smooth bastard.

“Corrine, I really don’t know”, I try and get myself out of it. I’m not a holiday person anyway. I just prefer to sit them out on my own. Though last year they did drag me along for Thanksgiving and we had a great time.

“Too bad for you, because I already told Chris you’re coming and that you’re bringing that great pumpkin pie of yours”, she tells me with a wide grin and part of me wants to strangle her.

“Corrine”, I let out and I’m getting up from the couch. It’s only midway through the movement that I realize that I’m moving.

“Fuck I need to sit still”, I mutter and try to reposition myself as accurately as possible.

“No you don’t I’m finished”, Corrine tells me and I let out a sigh of relief, because there was no way in hell I would’ve been able to get back into that exact position again. I’m ecstatic to be able to move again, my neck was getting really fucking sore.

“Really?” I ask her, even though it unnecessary. Corrine is nodding at me.

“Yeah, come and have a look”, she tells me and gestures with her hand for me to come closer. I obey and get off the couch and instinctively wrap my arms around my chest. When I look at the drawing I’m completely stunned. The likeness is uncanny, yet somehow my features are beautifully displayed on the piece of paper in front of me.

“Corrine, it’s…” I want to say that it’s absolutely fucking stunning, but she doesn’t let me finish.

“It’s horrendous isn’t it”, she interrupts me, sounding disappointed.

“No it’s absolutely beautiful”, I tell her and her face lights up. She knows I don’t lie about these things.

“That’s because you are”, she tells me with a cheeky smile.

“Don’t flatter me, I’m still not pleased with you dragging me along for Thanksgiving”, I tell her and finally give her the stare of doom that I’ve been wanting to give her for quite some time now.

“But you’re coming right?” she asks me hopefully, a sparkle in her eye, still happy about her success in her artistic endeavor.

“Yes, I will. But I won’t make any promises about talking to Eddie”, I give in. I want to talk to him. I need to talk to him. I need to apologize and I need to beg for his forgiveness. I need him, I realize now more than ever. Even though he doesn’t need me at all. Maybe us being friends would be a way to solve that. Only if he can find it in his heart to forgive me for my words. Part of me fears he can’t, though I hold out hope.

#pearl jam fanfic #pearl jam fanfiction #eddie vedder fanfic #eddie vedder fanfiction #grungefic #grunge fanfic #grunge fanfiction

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loodgietersbedrijfsblog · 4 months

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Latest DOMS Painting Kit For Kids

Latest DOMS Painting Kit enhances your artistic endeavours. The all-in-one kit is perfect for unleashing your creativity. It includes a 32-page drawing book for your sketches and ideas. The kit features a 6-colour pencil pack with 172mm pencils, a 12-shade oil pastel pack with 63mm pastels, and a 12-shade watercolor cake pack for vibrant and varied coloring options. Additionally, it contains a 172mm pencil, a 12-shade watercolor pen pack, a 3-shade glitter pack, a pencil sharpener, and an eraser. Explore endless artistic possibilities and bring your imagination to life with this versatile painting kit.

We do research, design activities, and initiate learning campaigns for kids.

This Painting Kit includes:

1. Drawing Book (32 Pages, Size: 21×29.7 cm) 2. Color Pencil Pack (6 Pencils of 172 mm length each) 3. Oil Pastel Pack (12 Shades of 63 mm length each) 4. Water Color Cake Pack (12 Shades of 23 mm each) 5. Pencil (172 mm ) 6. Water Color Pen Pack (12 Shades) 7. Glitter Pack (3 Shades of 5.5 ml each) 8. Pencil – Sharpener 9. Eraser

(You will always get the updated products for DOMS Painting Kit from us)

#Painting Kit

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thesketcherat · 1 year

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Flower drawing in easy way #thesketcher #drawing #shorts

Full video on: https://youtu.be/M80lso4vQLU

In this drawing tutorial, I will draw a beautiful pair of flower or we can say a bunch of flowers. So if you want to learn how to draw a flower drawing let's watch the video. Tools used: Natraj pencil Doms Sketch pens

#Flower drawing in easy way #thesketcher #drawing #shorts #Full video on: https://youtu.be/M80lso4vQLU #In this drawing tutorial #I will draw a beautiful pair of flower or we can say a bunch of flowers. So if you want to learn how to draw a flower drawing let's watch t #Tools used:#Natraj pencil #Doms Sketch pens #art #sketch #artist #youtube #love #draw #design #howtodraw

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insightengy · 10 months

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Dear parents,

Great day!

Pleased to inform you that a State Level Competition will be conducted at our institution. Drawing and Handwriting competitions will be conducted for one hour.

Drawing sheets, colour pencils, sketch pens, pencils with rubber tip, Doms sharpener, participation certificate, and chocolates will be provided at free of cost. Topics will be given for each standard.

Fees:

Drawing: Rs.150/- only.

Handwriting: Rs.150/- only.

District Level and State Level winners are announced and prizes and shields will be distributed!

You may invite your friends and family members. ALL THE VERY BEST WISHES!

Contact: Tr. Manikandan on 8870085410.

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alevelmedia · 1 year

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Producer’s Presentation

Category: Pre production

The producer’s presentation includes a synopsis, a summary, a one liner, a USP, the social groups and issues this trailer highlights, the colour palette, branding, a sketch of each of the main characters, the locations, promotional brands and where this film will be exhibited.

Synopsis: Suhana is identified to be the dead body that was stabbed several times. Her so called ‘best friends’ may have something to do with it. Her boyfriend is a lead suspect, as Suhana cheated on him. But further digging shows that all her friends had a motive

Summary:The morning after Halloween, a student finds Suhana's dead body lying in a pool of blood in one of the classrooms. The body has been brutally stabbed several times. All 4 of her best friends are suspects….is it the influencer with a mind of her own? The pretty girl who got cheated on? The vengeful boyfriend ? Or the class topper with a dark secret? Will the Police find out who did this heinous crime?

One liner: It is always the ones closest to you….

USP:A plot that keeps the audience on its toes and a killer reveal like no other.

The social groups and issues this trailer highlights:This movie shows Indians out of their stereotype. It also addresses the issues of school bullying, cyber-bullying, and sexual assault.

Branding stationary :Pens, pouches, notebooks, locker posters

Branding clothing: Caps, graphic t-shirts, hoodies and bomber jackets

Branding halloween candy:Chocolate bars and popular candies

Branding trinkets: Bag pins, rings, pendants and keychains

The locations: Halloween party (school auditorium), Bedroom scene, Classroom, Washroom, small alley

Promotional brands: Hershey, Oreo, MAC, Doms, ZARA

Where this film will be exhibited: Netflix, Cinepolis, PVR, Disney hotstar, INOX.

https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1rinnmt_E31e3_xCnLMIRKJ7t7rXXvrsK/edit?usp=sharing&ouid=115493609395750454818&rtpof=true&sd=true

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lobstertribe · 2 years

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“BERLINER DOM” The Berlin Cathedral, sketched quickly as part of a Berlin “sketch walk.” Done only with ink in deference to INKTOBER 2022. Perhaps I’ll “colorize” in the future. Sketched with a CROSS Bailey fountain pen with PLATINUM Carbon ink in a 7” x 10” FABRIANO 1254 cold press sketchbook. #LobstArtstudios @tom.brudzinski #dessinateur #artist #dessin #sketch #drawing #quicksketch #RanDOODLINGdom #croquisrapide #croquis #szkic #crossbailey #platinumcarbonink #virtualsketchwalk #berlin #berlincathedral #berlinerdom #inktober #inktober2022 (at Berliner Dom) https://www.instagram.com/p/CjhwlB8uK6e/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#lobstartstudios #dessinateur #artist #dessin #sketch #drawing #quicksketch #randoodlingdom #croquisrapide #croquis #szkic #crossbailey #platinumcarbonink #virtualsketchwalk #berlin #berlincathedral #berlinerdom #inktober #inktober2022

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nirupamajain · 2 years

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Buy Sketch Pen online on same day delivery at Justdial.

Buy latest Sketch Pen online. Get Same Day Delivery for Sketch Pen products. Check prices, specifications, features of Sketch Pen like Brustro BRMTLBP12 Metallic Brush Pens Set of 10 Colors, Mitashi Sky Kidz SK 040 67 Pieces Art Set, Doms Aqua Non-Toxic Watercolour Sketch Pen Set with Plastic Case, Pack of 4 on Justdial Online.

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canvazo · 2 years

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canvazo

Pencils are one of the crucial things while sketching or writing something. At Canvazo, you will get verities of pencils and other items related to pencil like , pencil sketch drawing doms pencil, pen pencil,pencil colour, artline pencil , pencil pouch, apsara pencil, hb pencil,staedtler pencil, pencil case,unicorn pencil. Markers are very crucial in sketch or any other art. Canvazo has several types of marker like black marker, scorch marker, white marker, eco t-shirt textile marker, staedtler metallic marker, staedtler metallic marker set, copic nature doodle marker Kit, sharpie fine black marker, Sakura Pigma micro pen, canvazo highlight pen, tombow fudenosuke calligraphy brush pen, sakura pigma micron black pen, staedtler white pen, canvazo tool pen, ico ecsetiron brush pen set, camel camlin brush pen set, jags wooden pen, canvazo water brush pen, uni ball click gel pen, pentel artist brush sign pen, lamy scala fountain pen, lamy safari fountain pen, canvazo dual tip brush pen, doms Metallic brush pen, lamy joy fountain pen, camel camlin marker pen, sakura gelly roll white pen, lamy lx fountain pen medium point, link pentonic gel pen etc. Get everything at canvazo.com

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lunarquartzdoll · 3 years

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1st concept for a side character in one of my worlds. Mix of human and animal races exist with elemental difference based on trait, desert lizard lady gets fire.

#ocs #oc rp #pen drawing #sketch #shes a dom lol

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jisungparker · 2 years

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cos you know this love is gonna last

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader

song: frank ocean - blasted

themes: fluff, smut (warnings below)

snippet: his breath catches when you see evidence of yourself dotted around. a polaroid seungmin once took, before having felix quietly gift it to their elder. beside the polaroid is a picture you had quickly sketched of him one lunchtime, his eyes closed, lashes kissing his cheeks - the picture of peace. surrounding it are your mindless doodles and scribbles. only mindless to you though, never to him. 8.5k

warnings: sub!chan, soft dom!reader, thigh humping, exhibitionism (no one around), oral (m receiving), fingering (m receiving), cum eating, edging, hints at mdlb, tattooing, alcohol, college!au

a/n: hey.. i love bang chan :p also, i love this song but the themes in this don’t match completely. it’s barbara! lmk about warnings!

“you forgot to carry the one.”

there are few things that can steal chan’s attention from his work. his eyes haven’t strayed from his scrawled notes for close to three hours. he isn’t certain, but he could guess as much from the hues of the setting sun pouring over the library, the dryness of his eyes and the stiffness in his neck. it is quickly soothed though, by nimble fingers pressing into the muscles, winding themselves into the throbbing knots. forcing down a groan, his hand reaches for the wrist, attached to the arm, attached to the body of his sole distraction, tugging gently until you present yourself.

“hey you,” he whispers, smiling dumbly up at you. you briefly wonder how someone so smart can do so. his smile straightens out when you stroke his cheek, his breaths stuttering as you lean down without sparing the room so much as a glance. “uh- there are people here.”

“i know,” is all you say as you close the gap, his lips moulding with yours. in this moment, chan decides he’s allowed a brief reprieve from his studies to focus on his other commitments. so he lets you have your way. with his fingers still clasping your wrist, he grasps tighter when your blunt nails find his nape, dragging them gently along his scalp. it’s only as your tongue slides into his mouth, circling his own, drawing out the early notes of a moan from his throat, do you see his earlier point. so you pull away, eyes scanning his face, locking on his already swollen lips as they chase yours. his dark shining eyes follow you as you fight the urge to crawl into his lap. “what you working on?”

“hm?” he snaps out of his trance when you smirk, his eyes widening while he chews on his lip, forcing his gaze to the notes before him. “oh, yeah- just, stuff.”

“looks hard,” you whisper, leaning over his shoulder to read the page. he grins when you recoil, his illegible handwriting a complete contrast of your near perfect script. “i don’t get how surgeons cut organs out of people, but can’t write their own name.”

“i’m not a surgeon yet,” he blushes, eyes finding you again. “and if mine is so bad, write my notes out then.” he huffs playfully, offering you his pen, cheeks balling when you take it, rising to his challenge.

“what should i write?” giving into the urge, you settle yourself in his lap, ready to show off some new cursive.

“uh, my name. right.. here.” he presses his finger to the middle of a blank page he had just torn out for you. when he looks down and sees it - bang chan - he needn’t think twice about what’s missing. “ok, write yours.. here.”

and you do, your wrist flicking, lips pursed as you drag his pen over the bumpy grains of his recycled paper. though initially confused and amused by your stationery snobbery, he’s always been impressed. you’d once likened pens and pencils to tattoo needles and scalpels, their use and range sparking both inspiration and headache. like now, when he snatches his pen back from you and scribbles over your work.

“hey!” you start, a decibel too loud for the space. “why’d you ask if you were just gonna-” when he moves his hand aside, you see his miniscule addition. a scribbled heart now sits in the small space between both of your names. he sees the beginnings of a smile steal your lips before you catch yourself, lips curling into a smirk instead. “you heart me?”

“mhm,” he hums, lips puckering against the skin of your temple. he welcomes you as you lean into him, his body naturally moulding around your frame. “too much maybe.”

“no such thing as too much.”

“you think so?” he mumbles in your ear, grinning harder as you nod shyly, sweetness continuing to pour out of you the longer you’re alone with him. “well, what if I said i love you?”

“i-” the second of silence and your stuttered response almost makes him backtrack before you turn to him. you’re nearly breathless when you admit, “i’d say i love you too.”

he finds the will to inhale again, his heart hammering into your back as you sink into his chest once more. a comforting silence washes over you both as the setting sun disappears behind the trees by the lake. fidgeting with your fingers, chan finds calm in this moment, his lips pressed to your shoulder, his words muffle when he finally speaks.

“y/n?” he waits long past your hum, quietly whispering the words he keeps screaming in his head. it’s not ‘what if’, it’s just- ”i love you.”

in the seconds after his admission, a lot happens. you struggle in his hold to join your lips with his, but you do. in the absence of thought, your body knows you must feel him. it’s a need you have now, a need that negates your bottom tiers. it’s not sustenance you need, nor security. it’s chan. the need for him only doubles in his presence, and triples in his absence. similarly, chan staves off reason, with shallow breaths, his body responds to you in the slightest of ways. like now, as your arms wind around his neck, and you press yourself against him, feeling his heart pound into your chest. you easily swallow his whines, drawing more with every drag of your fingers through his hair. you take pride in reducing him to this. not nothing, just something he has never been, giving him something he’s never had. being his distraction, his haven, his peace.

you take it very seriously.

it’s partly why you ignore the soft ‘ahem’, that sounds to your left. chan ignoring it for reasons of his own. he’s too caught up in how warm you feel against him, how the glow of the setting sun couldn’t rival this feeling if it tried. he’s too far gone. he’s forgoing reason, ignoring the very eyes he feels on him that try to impede on this moment, in favour of focusing on you.

but it sounds again, over the sound of his mewls and the wet smack of your lips. he can now feel the presence, forcing blood to his cheeks. you feel it against the soft skin of your forearms, his battle with reason. you feel his grip on your thigh slip, his hand rising to your neck, thumb resting on your chin. you sense his hesitance, so you relinquish him with a final tug. it’s nearly enough to draw him back in, his lip pulled taut between your teeth. but he finds it in him to swallow down his desire, running a hand through his hair, trying to collect himself as he forces his gaze away from you.

“oh,” it’s just susie. “hey susie?”

“hi chris.” she whispers. because this is a silent space for learning or because she’s flustered by having just watched you nearly eat the boy from clinsci alive. chan prays it’s the former. “i was just bringing back your notes.” he nods gratefully, though in obvious confusion. it couldn’t wait until next class? “it was kind of hard to read, so i rewrote them and copied it in case you wanted my added points.”

“oh!” he smiles gratefully this time, taking the sheets of paper and eyeing the penmanship. it is infinitely clearer, infinitely better. but not you better. “thank you for that, you didn’t have to.”

“no worries.” only then does he notice how oddly she’s behaving. not in gesture, she’s always doing things like this for him. it’s just how she is. no, she’s never this fidgety, at least not since they first met. but now she’s hopping from one foot to the other, wringing her hands around her arms as she clings to her books. “who’s this?” she asks bravely, glancing to his immediate right.

ah, at last. it’s his time to shine.

chan might be one of the brightest medical juniors at clé, but he alone has a doctorate in you.

“this is my girlfriend, y/n,” he announces with pride, finally facing you and solving the puzzle of susie’s odd behaviour. hell, it’s the same deathly glare minho greeted him with when you first introduced them, with jisung doing his best to lighten the mood for your sake. following the awkward meeting, you and chan had spoken at length about this before you ever met his friends. though you’re sure it was near enough impossible not to warm up to felix, it definitely softened the blow for when the rest later showed up.

now though. now you looked like murder. less its incarnate, but rather its executor. your eyes are dark for a reason other than chan. a reason that seemed far more sinister to the average person, because the average person wasn’t like you and your friends. you didn’t pretend, save face. nor did you get up from your seat on the other side of the room to hand deliver notes you had rewritten for a boy who should mean nothing to you.

of course, chan saw none of that. all he saw was you. you decide that’s enough to soften your face a touch. that, and the soft poke he offers your cheek, trying to encourage the same change. “y/n,” he starts, continuing when you look at him. “this is susie, she’s premed too.” you just nod, indifferent to her backstory but happy just listening to him talk. deciding that’s enough for introductions, chan goes to thank susie again, in the hopes of politely dismissing her, but she has other ideas.

“it’s nice to meet you! what do you study?” she asks innocently, leaning her thigh against the adjacent table, deciding to get comfy. a short silence passes where you don’t answer, not actually listening to the kind girl, eyes locked instead on chan. you always tell him you’re sure god made him by hand, the words forcing a beautiful flush to his smooth cheeks. your memory of this keeps you hooked, missing her question entirely.

so chan responds for you. “uh- her major is fine art, but she’s a tattoo artist.”

“apprentice.” you correct, seemingly able to hang on to his every word.

“wow!” she gasps. you recoil involuntarily, head snapping to the girl. “that’s so cool!” you try to force a smile, but it’s more just the corners of your lips tucking into your cheeks, looking exactly like it is. forced. returning her attention to chan, she takes the awkward and extended silence as her cue to leave. “see you tomorrow, chris.”

he offers a genuine smile. because he’s a genuine person. the thought brings a genuine smile to your own lips, forcing his brow to rise when he turns back to you. “what are you thinking so hard about?”

“you.” you sigh truthfully, placing a soft peck to his warm cheek. “how you’re really pretty up close.”

“yeah?” you nod, closing your lips gently around his shy smile, earning the softest hum. “glad you think so.”

“you know what else?” he shakes his head, silently begging you to divulge every little stray thought that passes through your head. no matter how random or irrelevant.

he soon finds it is neither.

“i love you too.”

[02:19] Baby: sent one attachment

[02:30] dr bang: Hahaha Felix just sent me that

[02:31] Baby: he’s quick

[02:31] Baby: i just sent him that

[02:31] dr bang: Ok two questions

[02:31] dr bang: First one, why are you sending Felix TikToks before you send them to me?

[02:32] Baby: it’s how we bond

[02:33] dr bang: Cute, still not fair

[02:34] dr bang: Second one, why are you up?

[02:34] Baby: sent one attachment

[02:35] Baby: doing laundry

[02:36] dr bang: Alone? It’s 3am

[02:37] Baby: you know it’s always rammed in here

it has been about ten minutes since then. hoping he’s fallen asleep, you busy yourself with your for you page, eyes slowly drooping as you gradually succumb to the warmth of the campus laundrette. you would fall right asleep if it wasn’t the scariest basement in living history. the mouldy walls leaked with condensation, the exposed brick eroding by the second. the machines you’re using rattle under the weight of your loads but it still doesn’t drown out the eerie howl of wind through the slightly cracked window above. you try not to look through it, focusing instead on your phone. you hate to admit you’re terrified. you had only ever done it once, it was a similar night to tonight. weeks worth of laundry piling up in your hamper before you enlisted jisung’s help with the empty promise of a fun filled evening.

you don’t have the luxury of a lie this time. so instead, you hold onto the idea that at least felix might still be up.

but suddenly you freeze, your eye on the window up above, a lone figure passing in the night. your thumbs type out felix’s name without you realising, the lone digit trembling over the call button when the door opens to reveal your killer.

“chan! you scared the shit out of me!” he notes the small tremble in your voice before relief floods you and he immediately feels bad. “why are you here?”

“i was still at the library, knew you’d be scared,” you soften then, eyes locking with his as he lowers his bag. reaching you, he passes a thumb over your cheek, letting his fingers find your neck. he pouts when you exhale, your need to appear strong waning in his hold. “you don’t need to be scared, i’m here now.”

you only nod, gripping his wrist in silent thanks. “it’s late though,” you remind, a little hazy from your quickly draining fear and his slow leaning face. “don’t you have class tomorrow?”

“i was already up,” he mumbles an inch from your lips, his breath tickling the skin. “i just want you to feel safe.”

“then you should’ve sent changbin-” his fingers fold into your sides then, tickling you through your sweatshirt. “ah! okay! i’m sorry! look, the wash is done!”

he watches you unload before rising to help you load the dryers, swallowing the immediate pang of longing from the domesticity of it all. he pulls you close when you stuff your hands in your pockets, stopping you fishing out tokens before shoving in his own. he only grins at your protest, kissing your forehead when you finally relent. when he’s done, he grabs your hand.

“come on, let’s go.”

“go where?” he doesn’t answer, he just eyes the time left on the dryers before picking up his bag and dragging you towards the exit. the air is crisp. there isn’t a soul in sight, and while that usually makes you cautious, a sense of calm washes over you as chan wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side.

“i never knew it could be this quiet here,” he breathes, disturbing the silence but never the peace. “i’ve never been out here this late.”

“aren’t you always pulling all nighters?” it’s how you two met. you remember his slumped form trudging through the halls of his dorm as you snuck out of jisung’s. he’s dressed similarly to that night, a hoodie tied snug around his head, sweats loosely hugging his hips. there’s less fatigue in his eyes, mild excitement in its place.

“yeah, but that’s different.” he doesn’t bother to explain, instead letting a blissful silence follow, one that carries you both to the lake by the yellow wood. from here, you can see the glowing lights of the library. if you squint, you could probably make out the slumped figures of your peers. so you don’t. there’s always more you could be doing for your future, chan’s presence always reminds you of such. but tonight you ignore it. tonight you appreciate the calm his presence brings.

“why are we here?” you ask with your chin on his chest. he laid you down between his legs, his eyes cast skyward as you shamelessly gawk at him. the more you relax against him, the more you feel his heart beat against you, his body firm beneath you. “you should be sleeping.”

“so should you,” your eyes roll at his easy retort, it’s almost laughable.

“i’m not premed.”

“so?” it has become a habit of his to compare the two, to liken your commitment, your purpose. but you aren’t the same, not to the world and definitely not to you. “i’m not sure how sleep is dependent on your major.”

“you know what i mean, christopher.”

“actually, i don’t,” he clasps his fingers over the small of your back when he winds his arms around your waist. casting his gaze on you, he tucks his chin into his chest. “explain it to me.”

“i don’t think you need me to dumb it down for you.”

“let’s pretend i do,” his fingers unclasp, allowing him to press them into your sides, palms massaging the soft skin there, arms squeezing you tighter. “tell me why you think your major doesn’t deserve as much credit.”

“you’re gonna save lives.”

“and?” he rises when you scoff, his elbows planted in the grass as he glares playfully at you. “people are going to be far happier to see you than me.” you just ignore him, happy knowing he has no concrete argument. “i know i would be.”

“i could say the same about you.” his glare softens into an eye roll, his fingers rising to sweep hair out of your face to better watch you flatter him. “you know i would happily let you rearrange my insides.”

his brows rocket skyward at your unabashed claim, his hands slipping back to your waist without much thought. he falters for a moment, his fingers dusting your sides with slow passes over your exposed skin. nuzzling further into his chest, his thick hoodie absorbs each press of your lips to his covered skin. he hums anyway, warmed by the gesture, moved by your efforts. a chilling gust forces his hands up your jumper, fingers ducking under the fabric, pressing into your clothed back. he feels you slowly shuffle up the length of him, your face finally appearing above his after what feels like aeons.

“hi.”

there’s a beat before your lips meet, yours pressing ever so softly to his, humming against his pouted pair as you pass your tongue over them. they part easily, his silent submission to what he slightly fears but woefully hopes is to come. he’s quickly assured by your knee as you rise to anchor it firmly between his thighs, finding leverage while offering up slight relief as you slowly tease him. his palms steadily rise up your sides, thumbs rubbing tiny circles against the soft skin of your breasts, his pants deepened with every suck on his tongue.

chan immediately feels heady, his nerves fried as you press your thigh to his crotch, tongue licking at his pearlescent teeth. when yours close around his slick bottom lip though, offering a torturous cocktail to the senses, he groans beneath you, his hips grinding down against your tensed thigh.

“fuck.”

“you like that?” it’s a pointless ask. the answer is painted in his hung jaw and black eyes; his helpless palming at your breasts, humping up at your leg. it’s more an assurance, of his presence, his consent. “do you want me here?” he only bites his lip, eyes gazing hazily at you as he nods. “say it.”

“yes-” he hisses. “yes, please.”

“we can go back-” he grinds down against you again, quickly shaking his head before gripping your waist, holding you in place.

“i can’t- i can’t wait.” you mistake the tears swimming in his eyes for stars. though his beauty is ever present, under the stars he shines in kind and yet in such a different way. as if the world wasn’t so vast anymore, so unending, so winding. with chan beneath you, whimpering as you encourage him to let go, his throbbing length pulsing against your thigh, you see the world isn’t so boundless.

the world is five foot and seven inches of flesh and bone, muscle and blood. it whines your name as if you were named for its utterance alone. it clings to you for dear life, pulling you against it with no other need than to feel you, to hold you. the world comes to a halt as its pleasure peaks, erupting like geysers, like lava, like springs. it watches arduously, employing every final drop of energy as you soothe it, cooing in sweet wonder.

the world is bang chan. or, at least yours is.

lunch is drawing to an end when you’re joined by one body too many. then two, then three. the ambush ends as a fourth places itself reluctantly to your left, glaring at the body opposite before pressing his lips to your cheek. “sorry about him.”

him, is felix lee. warm, sweet, personable.

“what do you all want?” asks minho - cold, unpleasant - and unphased by felix’s bright eyes and matching smile.

“to introduce ourselves?” seungmin answers in felix’s stead, a bite to his tone that you’re glad challenges minho’s.

“not interested-” minho starts, only to splutter at the stomp on his foot.

“i’m han, you all know y/n,” chan pulls you closer to him, almost beaming with pride at his being the reason for that. “and this ray of sunshine is minho.”

“i’m felix,” the blond starts with a hand to his chest, before pointing his thumb to his left, “this is seungmin. changbin, uh-” he pauses to search and find a still standing and stoic, but waving, changbin behind him. “and chan, of course.” you unconsciously lean into the man when mentioned, feeling him hold you tighter. “we have two other friends but they’re in class. but they’ll be at the star wars marathon tonight, so you can meet them later.”

“at what?” minho deadpans. “we’re busy.”

“we are?” you ask suddenly, looking worriedly between he and felix. unbeknownst to chan, felix wasn’t deranged. he had text you about tonight before ever thinking of approaching your group of self titled delinquents.

“yeah,” jisung chimes in, visibly bothered by the fact that he has to agree with minho. “last night, you said to keep tonight free.”

“yeah,” you repeat, pointing at felix. “for this.”

“no.” minho refuses, moving to rise from the table when you and jisung pull him right back down. “you said we’d be drinking, not watching a ‘star war’-”

“we will drink!” felix promises, kindly ignoring minho’s mispronunciation and instead listing off the variety of booze he had for the occasion. “we’re making cocktails for each film, and we’ll have drinking games-”

“not interested-”

“we’ll be there.” minho cuts eyes at you at that, resulting in a silent standoff, an unspoken argument. your hard yet pleading eyes finally break through his exterior when jisung shoves him, forcing his eyes to roll before he casts his hardened gaze on chan.

“how many films?”

“nine.”

“nine?”

you don’t make it past phantom menace.

with a possibly too in depth star wars bingo, the boozy movie marathon slowly evolved into a small soirée. with music blaring wall to wall, courtesy of han and changbin hitting it off, and around the clock cocktails, courtesy of minho and felix hitting it off, it pretty much left a passed out jeongin and hyunjin, a still engrossed film student seungmin - and you. you and chan that is.

“this isn’t how i pictured it,” you mutter just loud enough to float over the noise from the living room and kitchen below. “but it’s very.. you.”

looking around the room, he pauses. he always thought it bare, it paled in comparison to yours - covered ceiling to floor in vinyl covers and hand drawn art, crystals and candles perched on every available surface, spine bent books in every shelved crevice - where you both tend to spend your time. more for lack of choice than anything. the boys lived far from clé’s main campus, maybe in the hopes of forcing chan into a normal sleep schedule, though more likely due to last minute finds, fate led them here. at times you wonder if chan didn’t live in the library, whether you’d ever see him. it is in part why he never bothered with his room. he rarely saw it.

his breath catches when you see evidence of yourself dotted around though. a polaroid seungmin once took, before having felix quietly gift it to their elder. beside the polaroid is a picture you had quickly sketched of him one lunchtime, his eyes closed, lashes kissing his cheeks - the picture of peace. you even find a stray sticky note you’d hidden on his person when you found him in the library once after a night out, your lipstick kiss. surrounding it are your mindless doodles and scribbles. only mindless to you though, never to him.

as your fingers brush over his desk, he holds his breath as they stall over your first ever gift to him: a personalised stationery set. it’s untouched. “you didn’t like it?”

“no- i loved it.” he quickly corrects, slipping into the space behind you. “o just don’t want to use it on notes, it feels like a waste.”

“mm.” carrying on, your fingers meet the polaroid. you lean forward, squinting at the image. “when was that?”

“my birthday.” he reminds, pulling you back to his chest. “at the arcade downtown.”

“oh yeah! i broke two nails playing street fighter,” when he hears your pout, he laughs at the memory. “funny, you weren’t laughing when i beat your high score.”

“no, but i was when felix beat yours..” he mumbles into your shoulder, pressing his lips to your skin. slipping his fingers in the gaps between yours, he stares down at them thoughtfully, flipping your hands palm up. “You don’t have them long anymore.” you shake your head, leaning your head back on his shoulder, humming when he kisses your temple. “why is that, did you get bored?”

“d’you want the real answer or the one i gave the boys?”

you feel his chest swelling in time with his recoil. there is something you two will share that the boys are yet to know, that they may never know. yet in the same breath he’s nervous, but ultimately intrigued. “what did you tell them?”

with a laugh, you release his hands, bending your fingers, wistfully eyeing your short, simply kept nails. “i told them i had to cut them for my apprenticeship. but miroh is pretty relaxed about stuff like that, way more than the other place was.”

“but you didn’t tell the boys that?”

“nope,” spinning in his hold, you finally face him, shrugging as you admit, “i lied.”

“why?” he asks brazenly, eyeing the sudden darkness lingering in your gaze.

“because,” tucking stray hairs behind his ears, you gulp when he parts his lips, tongue patiently sweeping over his bottom lip. “i wasn’t sure you wanted me to tell them.”

“me?” his brows shoot upward, veiled slightly by the loose strands you managed to miss. the picture of perfect confusion. perfection period, really. “what do you mean?”

with an unreadable stare, you glance over your shoulder, eyeing the polaroid, your index and middle finger on display to bookmark your misery. misery that only led to joy.

“do you remember what happened after?”

“y/n.”

chan’s mewl was enough to break through your lust induced haze, his taut neck painted in hues of pink and purple, a willing victim to your bitten lips. lips that had just left the same marks on his hips and inner thighs where you lay now, teeth running up his tender skin, a soft kiss pressed to the base of his cock’s underside, his tip leaking as you slowly pump your finger. one slow press to his prostate has him keening, a low gargle sounding as he swallows down his pleasure.

“hm?” you whisper against his tip, grinning as it twitches, leaks. offering a soft suck, you lick at his slit, your free hand palming his quivering thigh. “what is it, baby?”

“i-i-” you can’t make yourself feel bad. not when he looks like an angel. skin smoother than the finest porcelain, painted finer than the classics ever dreamed. he’s god’s proclamation to earth, his gift to you. so you should feel bad, but as you lick him from base to tip, pumping your finger with gentle drags over his soft spot, you can’t do it. not when you finally relent, letting him hump up into your warm, wet mouth, and chase a release he simultaneously repels. how could pleasure feel so good yet so frightening? like the calm of rain before the strike of thunder. the crashing waves before a devastating tsunami.

and there it is. chan’s descent from the edge as you steal another looming orgasm.

“please,” he begs, jaw slacking as your cool spit meets your middle finger, your buffed broken nail sheathed within the walls of your lover as it joins the other. “fu-oh my god, fuck-”

one bob of your head, one curl of your fingers and a swallow around his tip has his cum spilling down your throat, gathering at the corners of your mouth as you gulp it down, moaning as he shakes beneath you. his breaths alone filling your room until you release him, his softening dick falling to his thigh as you crawl up to him.

“chan?” his hum is hardly a whisper, more a deep breath. “hey, are you okay?”

“‘m fine.” he mumbles, raising an arm to pull you down to him by the waist.

“happy birthday, baby.” it’s muffled against the skin of his

chest where your lips press before you reach for the covers, finally deciding to protect his modesty.

chan blinks, as the memory plays in his head. at least you assume as much from the flush crawling up his neck to his soft cheeks. thay and the strain in his jeans, pressing between your hips. he gulps when you reach down, thumb sweeping the skin above his button and zip.

“do you?” he moves to nod, but instead shakes his head, leaning into your palm as you cradle his cheek with a quiet tsk. “well that’s a shame, sorry i didn’t make your birthday more memorable for you-”

“n-no, you did,” he rushes, kissing your faux pout. “i just forgot, that’s all. it’s my fault.”

“no,” you frown, gently pushing him back toward the edge of his twin bed. “it’s not your fault.” he clings to your hips when you climb over him, straddling his thighs as you kiss him, teeth clashing as you steal his breath. “i just need to remind you.”

[14:16] dr bang: Good luck, baby. Love you <3

[14:16] dr bang: Are you at the studio yet?

after finishing his latest stint in the library, chan checks in with you on what might be the most important day of your career thus far.

[14:17] Baby: thank yoooooou love you toooo xxxxx

[14:17] Baby: and nope

[14:18] Baby: this is just for the commission! only the consultation has to be at miroh

[14:18] dr. bang: Right right

he was catching on, slowly but surely. yes, your career is a lot different than his, but it made sense in similar ways. his decision to be a public surgeon versus private wouldn’t afford him the privileges of private practice, but he could change his mind later, with time and experience. kind of like you and the studio. until now, you have only ever had basic text walk-ins or flash bookings, the studio deciding your time was yet to come for larger pieces. not this time though. this time you had been personally commissioned and booked, a grand first.a first that called for nerves and celebration.

[14:18] dr bang: How do you feel? Ready?

[14:18] Baby: kinda…

[14:18] Baby: but can you tell me what you think? honestly?

[14:19] Baby: sent one attachment

[14:19] Baby: i call it ‘soondoongdori’

chan stops in place as he opens the picture. it’s an outline for a piece of a three headed cat. he lets people walk around him as he takes it in, eyeing the thin lines that make up the body, the inky blotches that fill each iris, and mark each head, each paw. there is personality to each head. one stares upwards, paw raised as if reaching for something, a toy maybe? whatever it is, it doesn’t interest the second head which licks at the ear of the third and last head, with its slightly hooded eyes and a lolling head, clearly seconds from slumber. chan is always enthralled by how easily you bridge the gap between myth and reality, how you marry the two, blur them almost. he’s speechless.

[14:21] dr bang: Honestly?

[14:21] Baby: please

[14:21] dr bang: It’s perfect, baby

[14:21] dr bang: Kind of makes me want one

[14:22] Baby: really?

[14:22] Baby: like ‘on you for life’ perfect?

[14:23] dr bang: I mean, not me personally

[14:23] dr bang: But if I loved cats then definitely!

[14:23] Baby: aw thank you channieeeeee

[14:23] Baby: let’s hope this dumbass agrees

[14:24] Baby: sent one attachment

chan is seconds from the bus stop when he stops again, ignoring the passing shuttle to his dorm for two reasons.

the first being he knows where you are, he must have walked right past you just minutes ago. you’re just by the lake, which bends and winds around the perimeter of clé. secondly, he knows that face. scowling like usual, though there’s a slight upturn to his lips, something chan thinks only you can draw out of him. he’s concentrating on a piece of parchment, thin enough for chan to recognise the inversed image of the drawing you had just sent him. whay has him turning back is the dots he is finally connecting.

[14:25] dr bang: It’s for Minho?

he doesn’t get a response before he arrives, his arrival silently announced to you by your best friend’s vanishing smile and hardening brow.

“hey.”

“hi,” you grin, holding his cheek when he leans down to kiss you. “what are you doing here?”

“uh, i was just leaving the library, thought i’d say hi.”

“huh,” minho muses. “coulda sworn the library was that way-”

zoning minho out, you pull chan down, filling him in on the last eight minutes. “so you know how the studio keeps saying i’m not ready but if someone comes in asking for me direct, they can’t really say no?” chan can’t figure out why his throat tightens, or why bile rises at the thought that your growing smile is in no way linked to him but to the still scowling man sitting opposite you. “so.. minjo said he’d be my first proper tattoo!”

it’s jealous and imposing. it’s unfair.

“that’s great.”

chan can’t help but be excited for you, this is a big deal. what he can help is the glare he gives an unflinching Minho when the latter rises from the ground to prematurely end this waste of his time.

“i told you we didn’t need this, i knew you’d do great.” stretching with a groan, minho turns to you. “you know who’s who. just colour ‘em in and we’re set.” with a quick kiss to your cheek and a quick nod at chan, he’s gone.

chan never once thought himself to be jealous man. he seldom craved attention, though when he did, it was yours, and nine times out of ten you readily awarded it to him. and yet, as he rises from the dried marsh, reaching down to help you stand, he realises your attention is elsewhere. it’s on work, your first booking. on minho. because minho would be your first proper tattoo. and suddenly he knows what he must do.

“you hungry?” chan asks, looking for a way to quell the lingering bitterness in his chest. “my treat.”

he needs to beat that booking.

“i-i want to talk to you something.” chan murmurs randomly, breath catching as you mouth your way up his neck, your hum reverberating up his throat. “it’s about tomorrow.”

“we’ll sleep after this-”

“no, it’s not that-” though it should be. it’s nearing midnight and minho’s booking is at eleven. but you agreed to meet for breakfast before, to calm both your nerves. “it’s about the booking.”

“what about it?” you ask, letting your teeth graze his adam’s apple when he gulps, your head rising. “are you okay?”

no. “yeah, i’m fine.”

“okay?” sitting in his lap, you watch him rise, holding your thighs as you straddle him. “what’s up?”

“i-” with a shaky breath, chan looks away from you, his eyes scanning your busy room. “i’m upset.” when you frown, he backtracks immediately. “not.. upset upset. just-”

“just..?”

“just-” squeezing your thighs, he takes a deep breath. “i haven’t been honest with you.”

your frown only deepens as you scan your recent memories. “about.. the booking?” he nods. “what? you didn’t like the cats?”

“no! no, they’re great!” he rushes, assuring you with gentle strokes up and down your thighs. “it’s not that. ah, it’s dumb.”

“you’re not dumb.” you laugh, pinching his cheek. “take your time, i’m not going anywhere.”

chan frowns at that, because that’s the problem.

you might. or at least it feels that way.

running head first into his dorm’s glass door, in a daze as he spotted you running down the steps. he could’ve sworn he dreamt it, your blurry face crouched over him, a flurry of apologies spilling from your worried lips. when you took him to his room, promising to stay until he felt better, he swore you’d vanish as quickly as you’d appeared. when you and chan first started seeing each other, he swore it was a fluke. it has been an unspoken concern of his that had your lives never aligned that way, he’d have spent his entire academic career face planting books instead, before studying, then working his life away.

you were like the wind. you fit yourself perfectly into the mess he called his life. with no friends besides those he lived with, thankful they saw his busy schedule as something to admire rather than resent. he feared you’d do the same, find something to pick at, a way to demand time he couldn’t give you. but you weren’t like that. if anything, you were more inspired than deterred, more worried for him than his lack of time for you. and all it did was make him want to give you more. be more. be everything you needed him to be, even without asking him to be.

because yes, chan was jealous. but now he’s insecure.

to make a long story short, chan did not in fact beat minho’s booking.

between sweet assurance from felix, a short lecture from seungmin and a lot teasing from changbin, chan was nowhere near sure what to do, how to feel or why he even felt this way. you’d never once made him feel like he was lacking, unfulfilling. but after some introspection, he thinks he knows why.

all your memories are tied to the unlikely pair you call your best friends. jisung wrapped around all of your funniest, minho around your most monumental. chan has you tied to a majority of his biggest firsts. his first kiss, first time, first girlfriend. but in return, he has nothing. and he wants something. something meaningful, something that, if this were ever to end, you would both remember fondly, forever.

so maybe it isn’t envy, or insecurity. maybe it’s possessive.

maybe it’s all three.

“i don’t want you to tattoo minho.”

there’s a short pause where you watch him, frowning at his unreadable face. with a nod, you acknowledge it with a simple- “okay..” unsure how to proceed. “because.. you don’t think i’m ready?”

“no.” it’s firm. which he’s thankful for as your frown softens. but your confusion lingers.

“okay.” you repeat with a nod, resting your palms on his shoulders before squeezing, massaging them. “then.. why?”

you see a hint of your chan behind his eyes. funnily, it’s when they look away from you. it vanishes when he admits- “because i want one first.”

the beginnings of a laugh rumble through you before you see him glare, absent of all playfulness. if you didn’t know chan better, you’d think he was pouting. “chan, you’ve never wanted one before.”

“well, now i do.” he mumbles with a pout. hm, you think. maybe you don’t know chan.

“what brought this on?” you ask, stroking up the sides of his neck, smiling as he leans into your touch. “is it because minho’s getting one?”

you think nothing of the question when you say it, assuming the interest came from curiosity before he nods, his blush creeping up his neck, warming your palms.

with a tilt of your head, you give him an unintentionally hard, but understandably confused scowl. “so you do want one because you want one.. or because minho’s getting one?”

“because it’s you.”

“because it’s me?” a few seconds pass in silence as you mull over his words, eyes scanning his face before you see it. gazing up at you with a hint of longing, a sprinkle of wonder, of hope, it suddenly clicks. his fingers digging to your thighs, his shining eyes, he's clinginess. you try for the life of you, but you can’t bite back the smile and laughter that erupts from you. “you want to be my first tattoo.. because it’s me?”

he nods simply, resting his burning face in your neck.

“because you’re mine.”

“of course i’m yours,” you whisper, scratching along his scalp. “is that what’s got you all upset?”

chan shrugs, snuggling closer to you. “just don’t want you to forget.”

“how could i forget that?”

“i’m always busy,” he sighs, a slight shake as he struggles with his own reasoning. “i’m just gonna get busier. you might get bored.. might forget about me.”

“hey.” he doesn’t come up without effort, your hands on his cheeks guide his face to yours. “hey, listen to me. i knew what i was getting into, chan. i knew it would get hectic, and i’m not going anywhere. okay?” he nods, when you scold- “babe.”

“okay.” he whines, fending off a smile.

“okay.” you repeat, resting your forehead on his. “i love you. i’m yours. i’m not going anywhere.”

“okay.” he giggles when you do, letting his hands tug you further up his lap. “i love you too.”

“yeah?” you calm when he nods, gripping your hips. “can i get a kiss, then?”

feigning reluctance, he yields in seconds, pressing his lips to yours, gasping when you holding him to you, letting your teeth nibble at his pout. “you said a kiss.”

“can i have another?”

“you need to sleep.”

“you’re one to talk.”

“y/n.” you laugh at his attempt to be stern, his pout curving in a frown. “one more.”

it isn’t one more.

[12:13] dr bang:

[12:13] Baby: hey channie

[12:13] Baby: tell me the truth

[12:13] Baby: are you busy?

[13:02] dr bang: Sorry, just left lab

[13:03] dr bang: Everything going okay?

[13:10] Baby: kind of?

[13:12] Baby: could you come to the studio, i need you

catching the first bus headed downtown, chan arrives outside the tattoo studio on record time. walking in, he stops at the receptionist before they ask- “chan?”

“uh- yeah?”

“go on in. she shouldn’t be hard to find-” a shrill scream cuts them off, an unsurprised look on their face. “follow the screams.”

you’re only a few feet away, your temporary station the only one set up this afternoon. chan almost calls for you when he catches sight of you, but stops. it’s a sight. your black sweatshirt bunched at your elbows, sleeves rolled up, arms covered in fine line work. your hair back, he can make out the crease between your brows, how you worry your lip, your eyes stuck to the tattoo gun you drag down the tender skin of your best friend’s calf. your best friend, who screeches as soon as the needle scratches the surface of his skin. you quickly stop, assuring him- “he’ll be in a sec, just wait- oh my god! hi!”

when you run up to him, throwing your arms around him as not to contaminate your hands, you squeeze him as best you can.

“thank you so much, chan! i swear i won’t keep you long.”

“hey, don’t worry about that, i’m done for the day.”

“are you sure?” when he nods, you exhale. “thank god. hear that minho? chan’s here to hold your hand!”

“what?” ignoring them both you skip back to your station.

“yeah,” you beam. “jisung was meant to come but he has a report due tomorrow he forgot about. so i just called who i would want here.”

“me?” when you nod, he matches your grin, unperturbed by minho’s groan. with a sigh, chan eyes minho before holding his out, palm up- “come on mate, let’s get this over with.”

“i don’t need to hold your hand.”

“ready, ho?” before the needle even touches his skin, minho latches onto chan’s extended hand, squeezing hard as he muffles his scream. “that’s what i thought.”

hours pass like this, four and a half to be exact. chan’s hand slowly losing feeling before succumbing to the inevitable that he would have to end his career before it ever began. in the time though, he found himself, maybe not growing closer but at least building rapport with your elusive best friend. minho wanted to be a dancer, and chan knew as much, but he also loved cooking, which chan didn’t know. chan does however leave without finding out how his major in mechanics plays a role in all of that. minho was head over heels in love with jisung, anyone with eyes knew that, apparently chan did not. this knews does nothing to lessen his earlier resentment for the man, it just makes him a bit soft knowing the seemingly apathetic man had a soft spot in the shape of han jisung. you and minho were best friends, chan knew this. minho only agreed to this because he wanted to help you out. chan now knew this. you did not.

chan thinks this is what completely quashes most if not all resentment he had for your best friend.

“she kept moping,” minho confessed between gritted teeth, his voice just quiet enough for the gun’s buzzing to drown him out. “i was sick of it.”

when silence followed, chan thought it only fair to share something himself. “i was jealous you got to be her first tattoo.”

even with a clenched jaw, chan sees minho’s surprise.

“not anymore though,” chan assures, with a soft smile at your concentrated face, eyeing you hard at work. minho thinks he understands. they’re just two people who care about the same person. and while minho has more monumental memories with you. slowly, chan with tie himself into his own. “and you scare me a bit, but we’ll always have this moment.”

“what?” minho scoffs. “brought together by the power of friendship?”

“no,” chan laughs. “you cried like a bitch until i got here.”

“true,” minho huffs, punctuating this with a squeeze of chan’s dead hand. “i guess i should say thank you.”

“you don’t have to-”

“i wasn’t going to.”

“cool.”

after a long six hours, you’re done. minho near enough drenched in his own sweat, chan’s hand clinging onto feeling for dear life, and your first ever full piece done, you start packing up. you both say goodbye to minho after you walk him through the aftercare for the hundredth time. chan watches you silently, his brows furrowing when you begin to set up again before looking up at him. “come here.”

“look,” he gulps, wondering how best to phrase it. “i know what i said yesterday-”

“chan, relax. i’m not giving you a tattoo.”

“oh.” you glare when he has the audacity to be offended. “then what’s all this?”

“i was thinking about last night,” you start, reaching for your bag and pulling out your purse. “and what you said.” digging around, you pull out a little torn piece of paper. “i took this when after star wars.”

“i thought i lost that,” he says with a smile, eyeing the slightly crumpled piece of paper. “why’d you take it?”

“because,” you shrug. “i thought maybe one day i could ask you if i could tattoo this..” you say, before pointing at the space between his name and yours, at a little scribbled heart. “on me?”

“really?” when you nod, he wonders aloud- “but, why?”

“well, you drew it.” you say like it’s the most obvious thing. “and it was the day you said you loved me.” you remind, though he didn’t need it. it’s why he kept the scrap of paper, kind of heartbroken to find he’d lost it. “and because..

“because i’m yours.”

chan nods when he realises how wrong he has been. he thought he had wanted something meaningful, something that, if this were ever to end, you would both remember it fondly, forever. but somewhere along the way, chan forgot that you cling to the little things too. that, yes, jisung was wrapped around all of your funniest memories, minho around your most monumental. but chan had something too.

he was intertwined with the most monumental now too. chan made every small, seemingly insignificant moment in between mean something. chan made every moment meaningful, just by being with you, showing up for you.

“only if you give me one too.” he decides, rolling up his own sleeve, grinning when you frown. “i couldn’t let you do it by yourself.” adding when you smile-

“and because i’m yours.”

#bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #skz smut #jisungparker #i like bang chan a lot..#a LOT

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starfirette · 2 years

Note

Any Dori character:

And the best combo

59-14-15-19-92-68-73-67-69

I try to put in a order that made sense

I'm really sorry for the spam I'm just obsessing over Dori lately

NSFW dialogue prompts

Hiroto Fukami x Reader

✨ girl I'm watching good morning call rn, lusting after Daichi 😌😌I'm always obsessing over dori. I'm so sorry this took a long time between me posting it and me advertising it but I have Covid and I've literally been asleep for roughly the past 48 hours. I also cut out a few parts in this just bc I couldn't make it read naturally? If that makes any sense

✨ requests currently closed | masterlist | the dori sakurada tag | @jhynka @dorilovesmegan @glowingmonolith

Hiro had placed a second desk in his study. It was for you, and it mirrored his own.

You had been delighted to see the surprise, surmising the double desk image to that of Queen Victoria and her beloved Prince Albert. They had their desks just beside each other so they were always working in each other's company.

It's almost depressing how you never use it for actual work.

Hiro was, in many ways, a patron of the arts, and he considered you to be his artist. He always did his best to encourage you artistic endeavors, despite the fact you weren't very good at any one thing. You dabbled in various hobbies, trying to draw, trying to sketch, trying to learn guitar. Your real artistic side came from writing. Or rather planning. You don't actually write, you just outline and plan the books that will never be. Rather than mustering the courage to write, you scribble lore and other fictional nonsense on paper, color coding and filing it all to your heart's content.

Those papers were scattered now, as Hiro hoisted you to your desk's surface. Your legs were held around Hiro's hips, his hands gripping you by the underside of your thighs.

This is what your desk was typically used for, to your disappointment.

Your hands slipped, the papers falling to the floor with a shuffle.

You grabbed Hiro by the tie, tugging him closer as you two kissed.

Hiro smirked into the kiss as your fingers dug beneath the fabric, loosening it so you could free his torso from the confines of which you considered unnecessary. Clothes were always unnecessary when it came to Hiroto Fukami. He was like a God. He was defined and muscular. His skin was so damn smooth, but his hands were calloused and tough, the only indication of his hard work. People often brushed last his accomplishments, assuming that he'd been given everything by his parents. But he worked hard and it was shown from his muscular arms and the rough skin on his palms. You plucked the buttons open one by one, pulling his collar away so you could kiss at his warm ivory skin whose gold and pink undertones made him glow, even in the slight darkness of the room.

Hiro extended an arm, ready to brush everything to the floor, but you squeaked for him to stop. "I don't want to crinkle the papers," you admitted breathlessly.

Hiro laughed and picked you back up, wrapping your thighs around his waist. "Anything for my darling," he said. He carried you to the next available surface, which happened to be his own desk. He did not mind pushing his items off to the floor. The pens clattered as Hiro set you down on the sleek surface. He looked like an angel of darkness as he stood over you, looking at your trembling body with desire in his dark eyes.

He shrugged out of his loose tie and button down shirt. You were eager to push your torso up against him, wanting to feel the warmth of his body against your chest. Hiro leaned over you, bending across the desk, and took a pair of scissors in hand. He slipped the two blades at the base of your black nightie and started to cut. The fabric was thin anyway, probably enough for him to tear through it.

The cold legs of the sheers slid against your belly. They neared your breasts, not confined by a bra, and Hiro finally gave the sheers a finally snip.

Your black nightie fell open. Hiroto's eyes hardened as he looked at your bare body, licking his lips as he caressed you carefully. It's like he's afraid of breaking me, you thought. His hands, calloused, though nimble, skimmed over your breasts and waist in such a light grasp.

Hiro chuckled, the low sound making you shiver. "You love it like this, don't you?" he says softly. His head bowed and his lips pressed a gentle kiss over your nipple. "Being bathed in attention. In my attention."

"You ruined my nightgown," you said, your words a mere stammer as Hiro rubbed the inside of your thigh.

"I'll buy ten more," he murmured as he brushed his hand down your leg, pressing a kiss to your calf.

"You always say that," you said as you wiggled closer to Hiro. You pressed your self against Hiro's hips, feeling the telltale hardness of his cock against your clothes pussy.

Your eyes met his, and he was breathing hard at the feeling. His cock was twitching in his dress pants, and he was visibly restraining himself from doing something potentially rash.

"You're playing a dangerous game," Hiro muttered as he harshly yanked down your panties. A whimper caught in your throat. You craned your neck, watching Hiro has he quickly stuck two fingers into his mouth. He very slowly sifted the two digits inside of you, making you cry out.

"You can take it," Hiro chuckled as he got to work, pumping his fingers inside of you. White stars shone in your vision as Hiro flexed his long fingers up, hooking and pressing against the spongy warmth. "You've done it before."

You weren't sure that you could take it. Your thoughts were hardly coherent, let alone the noises you were making as Hiro's hand fucked you. Your hips were writhing in response, humping against Hiro's hands as you squeezed the sides of the desk for merciful balance.

Your eyes watered as Hiro broadly licked his thumb. He placed the pad of his thumb upon your clit and made small circles, slow and steady and firm. Your body spasms.

"Slow down," you urged, pawing at him helplessly as you rolled your hips into his hand. How desperate you must seem.

Your words slurred together as Hiro continued. You were clenched tightly around his hand, making Hiro laugh almost sadistically. "How I must neglect you," Hiro taunted as he pinched your clit. "To have you coming so undone by only my hand, before my real fun has started. Are you neglected?"

"No," you gasped. "No, sensei, you take good care of me."

Hiro's eyes flickered at the term and you could tell he was holding back. You preferred that he would have lost control, and replaced his hand with his cock. Your mouth waters at the mere thought of the sensation; Hiroto's cock, thick, twitching, long, filling you up, completing your body and soul.

"Of course I do," Hiro said calmly, though a smirk beseeched any answer otherwise, a taunt for you to misbehave so that he might punish you. "Just a little more," he eased you as his fingers pinched and rolled your clit. It elicited a loud noise from your throat, like a whine from a dying bunny. You weren't confident in your ability to sound attractive when moaning or making any noises in general, but Hiro didn't seem to mind. In fact he always seems very pleased, like it's a challenge to get you to be louder and louder every time. "Ssh, just look at me," Hiro said softly, as though he wasn't currently putting you on the brink of (what felt like) literal enlightenment.

You hiccuped, the sound making your moan trip over itself, as you came without realizing it had even been approaching.

Hiro knelt down and nuzzled his face against your cunt, still using a finger to massage your clit. His tongue dragged up your slit, as if he were licking an ice cream cone. "Nothing left?" He asked, sounding disappointed. He increased his pressure, just featherweight more, and it made tears glisten in your eyes. More of your sweetness dribbled out of your hole, onto Hiro's tongue. He was like a little boy trying to shake more candy from a machine, wanting anything else he could get out of it.

"You taste so sweet," Hiro chuckled. He looked at you as he taunted your clit. Your breathing was ragged. "No more," you pleaded. "Not all at once."

"No more?" He repeated, sounding incredulous. "My love, you're already tired?"

"Not there," you whined as Hiro swam circles against your clit. It was pulsing and throbbing under the pressure of Hiro's fingertip. "It's too much. I can't. Please."

"Since you asked so nicely," Hiro convened. He pressed a soft kiss over the pulsing bud before crawling over you. "What else shall I do with you?" He asked. "I don't exactly believe that you're already through."

You could hardly speak, hardly manage a chuckle as Hiro nuzzled his face against the crook of your neck, pressing soft kisses against the skin. Your hands darted to his pants, tearing the button clasp open and fumbling with the zipper.

"You're eager," Hiro laughs as you hook your fingers over the hem of his briefs. The vivid lines of Hiro's lower body made your gut ache with want. You could feel the definition of his pelvis with your fingers, the sensation so mouthwatering and heart wrenching. "You'll have to ask nicely," Hiro warned, nipping you in the collar bone as you tried to tug his briefs down.

You struggled to complain, finding it too hard to even really breathe. "S-"

Hiro looked at you expectantly, using one free hand to rub the tip of his cock against your dripping slit.

He had enormous self control to be doing as such. The tip of his cock pressed flush to your engorged clitoris and you tried not to whine at the feeling it left: something right crossed between discomfort and euphoria.

"What was that?" Hiro demands.

He dragged the tip of his cock down, prodding it right at your hole.

"Sensei," you said firmly, swallowing your excitement as you pressed your legs to the desk.

Hiro kissed your nose gently. "Oh, Angel," he groaned as he pushed his way inside of you. "You're so wet that I fit right in. Don't you just love the feeling of your sensei's cock inside of you?"

"Yes," you stammered. Hiro caught one of your limbs by the wrist, pinning it above your head. His eyes never strayed away from yours as he started to grind his hips. He fucked such colorful, sparkling sensations inside of you.

The legs of the desk ground across the sleek, hardwood floor as Hiro's pace increased. "I'll take care of you, Angel."

He bowed his head to your chest and caught your breast between his lips, biting down tightly on your nipple. As Hiro suckled at the bud, his thumb slipped right back between your legs and found your clit, still pulsing from all the excitement.

"Hiro," you cried out. Your mind had lapsed all judgment and you'd forgotten about his rules.

"What was that?" Hiro muttered in your ear.

"Sensei," you corrected yourself.

"Turn over, Angel," Hiro eased you. Your body was like putty in Hiroto's hands, so easily moved around as he assisted you in turning over. Your chest pressed flat against the desk. You balanced on your toes as Hiro stood behind you, re-aligning his cock against your hole.

Hiro's hand harshly came down upon your ass, smacking the skin so hard so that you audibly whimpered. "You're very lucky that I'm in such a good mood, this evening," Hiro said as he thrust inside of you swiftly and strongly. "This doesn't even qualify as a punishment. You're actually enjoying this."

Tears dribbled down your face as Hiro's cock prodded against a place so high inside of you that you were sure it was past the physically boundaries of pleasure and anatomy. Where Hiro was actually touching felt so personal and heavenly that it couldn't have actually existed on such a material plane such as this one.

Hiroto had sheathed himself to the hilt inside of you.

A series of moans echoed in the office as Hiroto's hips smacked into you.

"You were made for me," Hiro noted. The bravado in his voice was easily recognizable, and you could tell that he was as close to snapping and cumming as you were.

Hiroto's words became a garble of deep groans and grunts; it was so strange how a sound could be so arousing. You could get off from Hiro's moans all on their own.

"That's right," Hiro laughed, the sound so constrained with breathy grunts as he struggled to remain cohereant. "That's right, all mine. Mine, mine, mine." With each word he thrust into you harder, pushing the desk across the floor. Your toes struggled to keep upright as you smacked a palm against the desk, moaning loudly in your own ear.

Hiroto's hand extended over yours, his fingers and palm nearly twice your size. Semen spilled inside of you as Hiro pushed his way forward. The slapping sounds of skin against skin slowed down. Hiro thrust a few more times, these movements allowing his seed to dribble down your thighs.

Laying like this for a few moments, while you both caught your breath, you smiled dumbly at the sight of Hiro's hand overlaid in yours.

Hiro helped you to readjust, sitting upright in the desk while leaning all your weight on him. Hiro ran a hand through your hair before sinking two fingers inside of your cunt. "What a good girl," Hiro cooed in your ear as he stretched his fingers out. "Feel this? Feel how much we came?"

You nodded meekly. Your muscles felt like jello as Hiro dug through his desk drawers.

"No," you groaned when Hiro showed you what he'd produced. He bore a shit eating grin. "Hiro, I can't."

"Not with that attitude," Hiro laughed.

It was a hot pink device, sleek with a curve, designed to penetrate and vibrate at once. "I just think it'd be a shame to waste all that sweetness inside you," he whispered as he slipped the device inside of you. You gasped. "Oh, God," you moaned as Hiro flipped the vibration on.

"No. Just Hiroto. Although Sensei works just as well."

You two shared a laugh before Hiro started to move the toy around, mimicking a slow, but deep thrust. His lips trailed kisses down your neck.

"Fffuck."

Hiroto laughed at you. "Aw, my girl. Already so fucked out of her senses."

You wrapped your arms around Hiro, pressing your naked chest into him as you shivered under the feeling the vibrator was sending through you. It slipped in and out with ease, glistening with more of your arousal as you spasmed with another orgasm.

Hiro kissed you on the mouth, his tongue tickling yours as you moaned into him.

By the time he switched the vibrator off, your legs were numb and slick with seed, and your chest heaving. Hiro offered the wand towards you, making a lewd comment about having you lick it clean. You punched him in the shoulder, making him laugh and retract his comment.

"Have I ever told you that I hate you," you said, your voice officially gone from all the screaming and moaning.

"You don't hate me," Hiro said knowingly. "You think I can be annoying at times but you never hate me."

You tilt your head back with a laugh. "Mind reader much?"

"I don't need to be a mind reader to know that you think I'm annoying," Hiro said as he gathered you in his arms. "You voice your opinions loudly enough, after all."

Hiro pulled back on his briefs before he carried you swiftly to the bedroom. He set you carefully on the bed, and once again, you remembered how gentle he could suddenly be. Like he was afraid he'd break you.

You thought of all the times Hiro looked upon you with a distant saddness in his dark eyes, or the moments where he seemed afraid to touch you. Where must that from? You wonder as Hiro sits between your legs with a damp cloth, cleaning your thighs and cunt carefully.

"Hiro?" You whispered. Your voice truly might go missing by the morning. Hiroto looked up at you, curious as to what you might say. "Yes?"

You were suddenly at a loss for words. "Nothing. I just love you."

Hiroto was pleased by the sudden affirmation. He reached out to kiss you softly. "I love you, too."

You believed him.

There'd be another time to ask Hiroto why he often treaded so carefully. But as Hiro climbed into bed, pulling you into his arms, you told yourself that now was not that time. Your stomach and core were incredibly sore and your legs did feel like jelly. You were covered in hickies and bite marks, and your eyes kept drifting shut.

You made due with curling into Hiro's warm embrace. Another time, you told yourself before falling fast asleep.

Hiro laid awake.

As his fingers drifted through your hair, he counted your breaths, taking note of exactly when they became even. He pulled away and looked at your face. Your eyelids fluttered rapidly with some dream that he desperately yearned to know. But he was content with not knowing them, for now, at least. So long as you could lay in his arms this way, he was content with being the most ignorant man in the whole world.

#plot twist he is a vampire #jk #unless y'all want that fic #bc vamp! Hiro is on my mind 24/7 #starfirette writes #hiroto fukami smut #hiroto fukami x reader #hiroto fukami #dori sakurada imagine #dori sakurada x reader #18+#smut #dori sakurada #Hiroto Fukami imagine #coffee and vanilla #coffee and vanilla imagine #coffee and vanilla x reader

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