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#but hes not above a tramp stamp

inkyray · 2 months

Text

INKED

MATT STURNIOLO

a/n: this is my first oneshot and i deadass have no idea what im doing, go easy on me. im so used to writing full stories i kind of struggle with stand alone oneshots but yeah, i appreciate constructive criticism

3.6k words

warnings/content ahead: the bitch is getting tattooed yall, smut, p in v, brief fingering, degrading, hair pulling, the plot that leads up to the smut is longer than the smut itself ☠️

๑

You felt the prickly needle press ink in and out of your flesh, it spared small stings that you didn't exactly hate. Nick sat on his living room couch not far away from you, but still far enough to raise his voice a little so you could properly hear him. He had a good bond with the tattoo artist, and she didn't mind coming to his house to ink him up.

Nick sat with his short sleeve rolled above his shoulder, revealing a tattoo he had just got done with. His shoulder is sore and red, covered in a layer of antibiotic ointment and plastic wrap. Earlier today he had invited you over, since he knew how long you've been wanting a tattoo, and you had decided you know what, fuck it. You tagged along. You and Nick are close, he's one of your only best friends in LA, since it isn't really where you're originally from. You two would hang out any chance the other was free.

It often got annoying for his other brothers how much you were around, but they had caught a quick loving for you and found the place empty and weird when you weren't there, considering how much you were with Nick.

The buzzing of the tattoo machine filled the silent void before it was interrupted by a TikTok Nick was watching on full volume, making you two laugh as the tattoo artist held down on your waist to keep you from messing her up. You were getting a tramp stamp tattoo on your lower back, your sweatpants folded right on where your underwear begins.

A few minutes pass of just buzzing, your stinging skin, loud TikToks, and the smell of antiseptic.

"We should make a TikTok." Nick announced after a while. You raise an eyebrow, "Now?" you wondered. Nick nods, taking the throw blanket from off of him and getting up. "I don't know Nick, kind of in the middle of getting a tattoo." You smiled up at him as he got closer. You were laying on your stomach, your body against the black leather chair wrapped in plastic, but your elbows kept the rest of your body that weren't your ribs, up, so you could use your phone.

"Oh please, you look hot as hell right now." He stood, chuckling. You rolled your eyes. "Nick. I'm in sweatpants and a tank." Nick looked at you from his phone, tapping a few things on there which you assumed had to do with TikTok. He quite literally sighed. "You are so unaware of yourself, girl."

You shrugged and blew him a kiss. "So TikTok or nah? I want to do, like a transition of our tattoos and us lip syncing to some shit song from the 2010's. I already made a draft of myself doing it before I got this bad boy." He points to his new splotchy tattoo of the bat on his shoulder. "Yeah, guess so. You're gonna have to film me in the midst of getting my tattoo, though. I didn't exactly record myself before this."

With the press of a time skip button, you guys filmed the TikTok, posted it, and Nick declared he was tired, going for a nap to his room. This wasn't out of the ordinary for him to be asleep with you here, you'd do it all the time when he was at your place, and either one of you guys eventually followed in the others footsteps, finishing whatever you were doing and going to lay beside them to sleep too.

The front door of the house opened, and you already knew it was Matt and Chris. They were running errands for their manager and Nick had decided to stay behind with you, since you were planning on getting tattoos together. Footsteps creep into the place and you wait for their reaction. They didn't exactly know you were also getting one, and they knew about your commitment issues with tattoos, so this was kind of a big deal.

Chris walks in first and doesn't even turn to look at you, assuming you were Nick getting tattooed. "You're still getting inked? How big is your bat supposed to be, Nick." He grabs a Pepsi from the fridge and pops it open. "Pretty big." You answered, your head resting on your palm as he turned to look at you, Matt following closely behind.

"Oh, shit." Chris gulps down the Pepsi, walking over to you as he inspects the tattoo on your lower back. "How does it look?" You question as you see Matt stop in his tracks and come closer to get a better look at it. "Fucking sexy. Good job." He holds out his fist and you bump it, smiling at the comment.

You feel Matt's gaze linger too long on your skin as Chris goes back into the kitchen, making another comment about the tattoo you didn't quite catch. The stinging on your back now feels ice cold. "What do you think, Matt?" You wonder, turning your head slightly to look at him.

"Bold. For someone like you." He mutters, walking over to the kitchen to grab a root beer, maneuvering around Chris since he's constantly in his way. You scoff. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Is Nick sleeping?" Chris asks, you nod, he quickly goes looking for him.

"What I mean is that it's a tattoo decision I would've never thought you'd pick." Matt says, looking at you from the kitchen as he sips from his drink. This could mean so many things and you found yourself getting confused. What? "Matt, I'm gonna need you to elaborate."

It wasn't a secret that you were the least closest with Matt. Everytime you'd try to do the things you'd do with Nick but with him, there'd be some sort of thick invisible fog in the air, making you hyper-aware of everything you're doing and saying. Your chest always felt too heavy around Matt and the tension it weighed on you was too much. It wasn't normal, and you were sure Matt could feel it too. You knew a lot of stuff about him, and he knew a lot about you, but there was something between you two keeping you from taking the extra step of declaring you guys close.

He lets his eye's dart everywhere in thought, putting together how he's going to explain it to you. "Mmmm," he mumbles, "...no." He decides as he begins to leave the room, stopping in his tracks before he fully leaves, peeking his head around the corner. "You look good though, what Chris said." And he leaves.

You are beyond confused, you turn your head toward the tattoo artist, who was sharing the same look on her face. She spared you a shrug.

It's been a few weeks and your tattoo is fully healed, you loved the way you felt with it. The urge to get a million more tattoos on you was strong, but you held back.

On the other hand, being around Matt had begun getting more unbearable by the day. When you two were left alone, there was nothing to talk about. You would shift uncomfortably and he would bring out his phone as a distraction, doing nothing significant on it other than switch between apps. You were too aware of the other and the air around you would increasingly thicken. You were sure if you tried, you could slice through it with a knife.

Right now, was one of those times. Matt in the driver's seat and you were in the middle back seat, Chris and Nick had gone inside a store to grab a few stuff.

You watched his fingers tap the steering wheel, his thumb patiently rubbing against it, studying the fact they were slender and long, trained by veins that went down his hands. They looked so perfect under the gleaming hour of the sun. His nails weren't painted, so his short nails naturally colored themselves pink with a small white hill on his thumb. You let your imagination run free. Touching the dip of your waist or massaging the inside of your thigh. His fingers curving themselves inside you…

His eyes darted at the rear mirror, catching you focused on his hands. It took you a second too long to realize that. You looked up at the mirror and found his blue eyes fixated on you, dark hair sitting across his forehead and strands messily on his eyes. Your heart gave you a loud thump and a punch in the face of flushing blood. You didn't look away from his eyes, but you could still see his thumb grazing against the steering wheel.

Your brain was empty of words. You had no idea what to say and you were sure neither did he, until he began to speak. "What ever happened to that tattoo?" He asked, still looking at you from the mirror. You furrowed your eyebrows. It takes you a second until you realize he was talking about the tramp stamp you have. "It ran away." You answered blankly, because what kind of question was that supposed to be.

Matt sighed, looking out of the window, you watched him look outside as you calculated the messy hair that didn't seem too bad to pull on. "I mean, it never made an appearance again. No one ever saw it ever since you got it." He said. A small smile forms onto your mouth. "Some people have seen it." You mutter lightly, not bothering to look away from him as he goes back looking at you.

"Is that so?" He wasn't smiling, his face was processing a look of annoyance. You wink.

The car doors are pulled open and in one sudden movement, Chris comes in with a laugh and sits next to you, Nick follows closely behind, chuckling in that deep-voiced way he does after he made a joke he was proud of, and seating himself in the passenger seat. "Why are you sitting here?" Matt questions, not bothering to ask what they're laughing at. Chris takes out a Mento and offers you one, you reluctantly take it and let it sit in your mouth, wanting to suck the flavor out before you chew it.

Nick laughs even harder. "Oh, I didn't even realize I was sitting here. Chris, and you just let me?" Chris cackles, "It doesn't matter Nick, it's just the passenger seat." He puts an arm around you. "Plus I wanted to sit with her." He tells you specifically, looking at you as he begins to chew the Mento. "How I am honored." You sarcastically put a hand to your heart, not once taking your eyes off Matt. He was expressionless and began driving.

The conversation held on and turned into a different topic, you would make sly remarks here and there but for you, the entire ride home was hard. Matt would catch you staring at him, and when he had to turn the car back with his hand behind Nick's headrest, he would look at you longer than the road behind him. He didn't look really… pleased. Which had you amused.

He was upset that he wasn't one of the people who got to see your tattoo finished and healed, and you were catching onto that. The longer they'd drive, the more stern his expression would shift. He got progressively more and more irritated throughout the ride.

They make it home and Matt doesn't even give you a glance, he immediately heads to his bedroom and makes it known by his silence he'd like to be left alone. Okay, drama queen. You thought.

You had to go see what was up, it was just in you. After the conversation you two barely had and the eye content you held, which you were pretty sure was a hallucination you pulled out of your ass, you were curious to see just how riled up he was. Or you could get him.

Chris and Nick get a call from their manager saying she's outside, picking them up so she could explain to Nick something that had to do with their merch. Apparently she already spoke about it to Matt, so it'd just be Chris and Nick going to their studio warehouse to see, since that's where all their merch first goes.When they leave, your thought process changes in a matter of seconds. Seeing how upset he is, you want to see how hard you could push his buttons.

You approach his room and knock 3 times. No answer is received, you raise your fist to knock a second time, and by the first knock the door is pulled half open, revealing Matt looking down at you, expecting you. "What?" He asks, his eyelids drooping as he looks at you blankly. He changed into gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt.

"Can I come lay down next to you? I barely got any sleep last night." You lightly fluttered your lashes at him, holding your phone with both your hands. Matt stares at you, inspecting just how tired you looked. You looked fine, but he still opened the door wide enough for you to enter, not saying anything.

You lay on his silk bed sheets. Silk. What a slut. He sits in front of his computer, and boots open a game, not bothering to acknowledge you here. You don't like that. After leaving yourself alone with your thoughts for a while today, the least thing you wanted was to be ignored. Especially by him. Even if it meant annoying him, you just wanted to have some sort of contact with him. Either verbally or physically, you don't mind a single bit.

You clear your throat. "Thanks, Matty." He grimaces at the nickname, used to hearing his family say to him, but not from you. "My legs have been hurting all day." You say, cuddling into his pillows, stretching hard enough to arch your back. A real yawn escapes your lips.

"You don't work out, don't play that dumb shit with me." He says, turning his head to look at you for a moment, before turning back to look at his monitor. "Who said anything about working out?" You tell him. He stops, completely forgetting what he was supposed to be looking at.

"I don't know, I guess my tattoo really does magical wonders for me." A smile slips through your lips as you turn the other direction, your back facing him as your shirt exposes the tattoo, your pants hanging dangerously low on your hips.

You can't see him, but you hear him turn, and you feel yourself getting excited. "Why'd you get it?" He asks and you turn your head softly to look at him. His question was simple, but the expression on his face certainly wasn't. "Why does anybody really get a tramp stamp, Matty?" You respond to his question with another one, and he is giving you a look of impatience.

"Just fucking answer me right now, sweetheart." His voice isn't loud, but his anger is. He practically huffs and you feel yourself getting immensely more attracted to his aggressiveness. You turn your head back to the other side, leaving him unanswered as he burns holes in the back of hair, knowing that would tick him off.

You hear shuffling and then the bed dips, and your heart literally does skip a beat. You swallow your built up spit down your throat as Matt grasps your jaw and makes you look at him, your eyes meeting his blue ones immediately. "Don't look away from me, y/n. Why'd you get that fucking tattoo?" He held your jaw firmly. He was on the bed rooted on his knees, looking down at you as you laid on his pillows.

Your smile somehow got wider, flashing him your white teeth as you slowly parted them to answer. "So you could fuck me." Your eyes were staring intensely at him but in a lazy manner.

Matt's eyes narrowed, darting between your eyes and your mouth. "You fucking whore." He muttered, his lips pressing onto yours so much faster than you could say the word 'whore' itself. Your eyes screwed itself shut and took the opportunity as fast as you could, kissing him back harsher.

He let go of the kiss too quickly, which only frustrated you. "You got that tattooed for me, baby?" He wonders, his voice is hoarse and breathy. You nod so fast your hold almost fell off, and as embarrassing as it was, it was true.

You had only 1 body since before the tattoo, and you barely even counted it. Constantly being around Matt but not knowing how to go about it made you more desperate. He did something to you no one had ever done. Sometimes you would feel yourself pulsing for him, imagining your fingers as his.

The reason why you had even begun considering a tramp stamp is because of the sick fantasies that they held, using Matt as its lead.

Recently you got laid, and it was underwhelming and disappointing. Your legs actually hurted because you did a few squats the day prior, not because the sex was good.

"You fucking liar." He was smiling but nothing in his tone was friendly, his eyebrows were furrowed but his grin was undeniable. You licked his mouth and he pressed against your lips. "I wouldn't lie to you, Matty." You moan into the kiss, feeling his hand trail down your body and to your waist. A hand was on the dip of your waist and the other was holding your jaw secure.

Your heart was quite literally out of its body now, his soft hand trailing to feel your bare skin under your shirt, grazing just the hill of your bare chest, purposely not touching your nipples. In a sudden movement, he cups your breast and your whimper is muffled under the kiss.

He has his knees caging both sides of your thigh, pressing his knee into you. He smirks as you gasp. "Lift your hips for me?" He pulls away, a small string of saliva connecting you two. You look straight at his eyes as you lift them, making sure he holds eye contact. And he does. He does as he curls his fingers along the strap of your pants and shoves them off.

"Let me see it." He orders. You grin, raising an eyebrow. "That could go for a lot of stuff." He grabs the side of your underwear and lets go of it, having it snap against your skin. "The tattoo. I want to see it." His voice is more demanding, more gruffly. Your pussy was soaked.

"No." You tell him all with a sly smile, you liked him aggressive and didn't mind seeing how far he'd go. In a sudden movement, you are flipped to your stomach, your hair is being gripped by his hand, pulling your head up as you feel his fingers tracing your tattoo. His fingers were too light. Too soft on your skin, you felt your back arch as he decided to balance the softness with a harsh slap on your ass.

Some hair was loose, out of his grip, resting on your back. The rest are being pulled closer to him, you feel his hot breath whisper in your ear. "You slut." A smirk spreads on your face, biting your bottom lip close enough to leave it bleeding. "You talk a lot." You tell him. He forces your shirt from off of you, leaving you just in your black lace panties.

You're still on your stomach, your bare chest pressing against his silk sheets. Your underwear is slipped off of you. Two fingers found their way to your pussy, sensitivity rubbing against it, your back arching your ass into his hard dick. "Fuck me already, Matt." You moan, knowing he's only touching you to get you overstimulated. He ignores what you're saying, responding to what's going on in his mind. "You look so beautiful. Bending yourself for me on my bed, begging for my cock."

His fingers rub against your folds, flipping your stomach inside out, pressing against your clit and your moan comes out louder than intended. "So wet for me." He licks his lips. Just as you were about to push yourself against his fingers, he let go abruptly. A huff leaves your lips and you whine. "Sorry, baby, you need something?" He mocks. You give him a noise of annoyance in response.

He grabs your ass hard, and to your surprise, you feel his tip at your entrance. You immediately clench around it and you hear him moan. He shoves himself inside of you and you practically scream, your whimpering gets louder each thrust he makes in and out of you. "You feel that, slut? Is this what you wanted?" He groans, not bothering to stop. You answer by pushing yourself onto him, fucking yourself to him.

You pushed your lips into your mouth, loving the sound of his moans and whimpers. Your head was pressed against his pillow, and he went faster, tears started prickling your eyes, shutting them. Your noises were getting more intense and a knot began forming in your stomach.

"I'm.. oh fuck–" Before you could even finish what you were saying, you release. Matt slows down, every push in is longer and slippery with your liquid, your pussy tightens around him and he mutters a quick "fuck" and pulls out, cumming all over you.

You turn to look at him. He looked back at you. There were many times you thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world, but now, seeing your hair a mess and its baby hairs sticking to your forehead, your lips sore and red from his aggressive kisses bare on his bed, he thought he was looking at a goddess. You glare at him, noticing he's been staring at a few seconds too long. "What?"

"I think I might need to see that tattoo one more time."

(idk how a tags list works)

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animehideout · 22 days

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idk if u are taking requests but I thought about “jjk men reacting to a s/o with tramp stamp” … if u did it would be nice …

JJK men reacting to tramp stamp

A/N: Hello, thanks for your request, I hope you like it <3 well here the reader is not necessarily s/o but reader and jjk men have feelings for each other.

Warning: hmm kinda smut ❤️‍🔥 ??

Gojo Satoru : At Prom Party.

It was prom party that night at Jujutsu High, teachers were also allowed to attend, and you were one of the new teachers who joined this year. So your secret admirer and co-worker Gojo Satoru seized the opportunity and found it fit to invite you to go to prom with him, as two young and beautiful teachers. Since all of you live in Jujutsu High dormitory, you were already in the middle of the party ground, and no need for Gojo to pick you up from your room.

Satoru mingled through the prom, wearing am expensive and elegant black suit, he was searching for you and then found you with your girl students, all of you dressed in cute dresses. Satoru's eyes widened. He wasn't used to you wearing dresses, you've always been clad in your teaching uniform or something sporty. His heart skipped a beat when he saw you in a sleek low-back dress, you looked really stunning and sexy, outshining everyone there. He took a moment to admire you from afar, then started walking towards but boy stopped mid way when you suddenly turned around to greet Itadori, the intricate design of the tramp stamp tattoo that's briefly visible above the edge of your dress caught Gojo's eyes and took his breath away. For a split second, his expression flickered with surprise. His gaze lingering on your lower back, trying to see the details of your tattoo, but soon you turned again and he's left with replaying that hidden and unexpected glimpse of rebellion in his mind. He'd walk over to you and try to stay composed.

Each time you turn around or something he tried to peek without appearing like a creep, but he desperately wanted to see it up close and maybe trace it with his long fingers. Even though he was surprised, he actually liked it and it made you look even more badass and he loves that. You'd notice how he was acting really awkward and weird, you thought he hated the party or something but truth is he couldn't stop thinking and envisioning his hands tracing your inked lower back so delicately, admiring and taking into the details of that tramp stamp of yours. You'd ask him if he's okay and he'll just blurt it out . He was so done and wanted to see it real bad.

" I noticed you've got a tattoo! I didn't know you're into tattoos "

"Oh this one?" you'd say and turn around giving him a better and clear display.

He'd gulp. His heart hammering against his ribcage at the beautiful sight, the tattoo, your well defined back, the way the dress was looking gorgeous from behind, he couldn't help but fall deep for you, he found you more and more irresistible.

"Wow I wanna touch it– holy shit sorry, I'm not a pervert!!! " he started explaining when he realized he voiced his deepest desires.

But you'd cut him off with a visible smirk,

" Of course, but let's keep it after the party, shall we ? "

He took the hint and realized that you've got something for him as well, and now he can't wait when the party's over so he can get what he's been thinking about for the whole night.

Suguru Geto : At Tattoo Shop

Your friend Geto started a new project and opened his own tattoo and piercing shop. So you and your group of friends, Satoru and Shoko thought about paying him a visit and support him. The shop screams Geto, it's literally his vibe, black and grey wallpaper, and electric guitar hanging on the wall, the scent of his cologne taking over the whole space, making it more inviting. You've always liked the way he smells tho.

Suguru got really happy when you arrived, he appreciated your support for his business, but more importantly cuz you were there. Shoko was getting a new piercing and you thought about getting a small design right under your collarbone. He was too excited to tattoo you and maybe exchange eye contact in the process. It didn't take too long for him to get the tattoo done, the design was really small and Geto is a pro.

" So what do you think?" he asked nervously, handing you a mirror.

" Oh wow I love it Suguru, you're really good at this, good job! you never disappoint"

" You took it like a champ tho! you didn't even flinch for a first time getting tattoed, especially that area is pretty sensitive " he said proudly

you giggled and said, " Oh actually it's not my first tattoo "

" What ? and how come we don't know about that? " asked Shoko

" Um because it's hidden!"

" Care to show us miss ? Come on don't be shy now" she added,

" Ugh fine " you rolled your eyes and smiled,

You lifted your shirt a bit and slightly pushed done your pants only to show your lower back, and a beautiful tramp stamp tattoo came to display. Geto's eyes were fixated in your lower back, your soft skin and how it was decorated with a breathtaking design that made your back even more attractive. His breath hitched up in his throat, feeling more drawn to you, but at the same time jealous because someone else got to touch you there and tattoo you. He wished it was him, taking his time to design your lower back and give you that pretty pain.

" A- a tramp stamp?" he stuttered,

" Yeah I got it 2 months ago, if I knew you're planning to open up a tattoo shop I would've waited so you can tattoo me "

" Oh shoot Suguru, unlucky " teased Gojo knowing about the obvious spark between both of you.

Suguru glared at his friend, getting really upset, because he desperately wanted to be the one to ink you and not anyone else. But he couldn't help how warm the atmosphere was getting, you looked very hot.

" I'm getting more tattoos though, but now I know I'll come to you to ink me " you said wanting his hands to be on you in any possible way.

Suguru's pupils expanded, a smirk appeared on his face. He got more excited and now he can't wait for his next session with you.

" Any specific spots ? "

" I like hidden spots more " you smiled,

" Alright Shoko I guess we don't fit here anymore " exclaimed Gojo wrapping his arm around Shoko's shoulder pulling her outside with him so he can give his best friend some privacy with you.

You spent the rest of the evening, in Geto's shop, just the two of you, discussing tattoos, exchanging your mutual likings, and choosing the perfect spot that he'll ink.

You spent the rest of the evening talking about your mutual passion for tattoos, chosing what spot you'll decorate next and maybe showing him once again that beautiful tattoo, for inspiration purposes.

Choso Kamo : At The Beach

Choso's heart pounded out of hos chest as he watched the sunrise with you, it was your second date together after you officially started dating. He thought that watching the sunrise together at the beach is romantic, and man wanted to act romantic just for you. Poor baby was doing his best.

" I love this place " you said as you rested your head on his shoulder.

The water was inviting, sparkling in the sun rays, the gentle waves creating a therapeutic sound.

" Yeah, a calm place for both of us " he said, hesitantly pressing a kiss on top of your head.

He was still shy around you, very careful with his moves even though you were chill and cool around him. Trying to not rush things to not make you uncomfortable in any way.

" Should we swim ? " you suggest out of the blue with a big excited smile on your face.

" Swim? Now ? I think the water is cold now!"

" I like it cold, it's refreshing. Don't you think " you answered, your eyes shining with happiness.

" I– "

But before he could say anything, you already stripped out of your clothes, living you in your bikini. You knew you can't resist the water, so you wore your bikini in case you decided to swim.

" I came prepared " you laughed and started running to the water.

Choso froze. He didn't know how to act. He didn't expect you to easily take off your clothes, in front of him like that, his cheeks turned red like cherries. But what made him more flustered is the tattoo that was clearly visible on your lower back. Choso gasped, his heart almost jumping out of his throat. Your figure, your inked skin made it hard for him to breathe or function and now he's all red, awkward not knowing what his next move is. But he took his time to stare at your back, since he's your boyfriend and he kinda felt that he has the green light to look at you as much as he wants.

" Aren't you coming? " you asked, as you started playing with water.

He smiled at your cute behavior and built up the courage, taking off his clothes and joined you in the water. You were pretty aware that he noticed your tattoo, it was meant for him to see it and you patiently waited for him to say something. You hugged him while both of you were in the water, his hands wrapped around your waist.

" Your back.. it's so pretty ! " he whispered

" Hmm, come again? " you teased

" T-the t-tattoo on your back, it looks so p-pretty on you! I didn't know you have it " he stuttered,

" Oh thank you, I keep it hidden most of the time only for y– " you said with a shy smile.

" me, only for me to see it " he interrupted growing more confident.

" Yes Choso only for you to see it "

It turned him on, and he felt proud that you're his girlfriend and that he gets to see and touch that tattoo as much as he wants. Without hesitation this time, he crushed your lips together, taking you into a deep wet kiss, while the waves made you sway.

" And only for me to touch it " he mumbled into the kiss.

Ryomen Sukuna : One Night Stand

You've liked Sukuna for so long, but didn't have the courage to confess or even start a conversation with him, so you've always watched him from a distance completely unaware that he's actually obsessed with you. He wanted to have you so bad, he's always seen you as an innocent human being so he was very careful with the way he'd approach you, worried that he might scare you away.

One night, you went to a party to celebrate one of your friends birthday and to your luck, Sukuna was there. You didn't notice he was there, till he offered you a drink and invited you to dance with him. Both of you living the dream that you desired for months.

The sexual tension was so strong between both of you, and none of you could wait any second longer. So you left the party early to be together, under each other's touch. He took you back to his place, and all what you can do is making out, you wanted this for many months and now you can't let this opportunity to taste him slide from between your fingers. That make out session, eventually led to sex. And now both of you stripping out of your clothes. You knew Sukuna is dominant, his appearance, his attitude, his everything screams dominance and you couldn't help but submit to him.

" And now turn around princess can you do that for me ? " he said in his deep voice, sending shivers down your spine.

You did as he said, waiting for his next move. But he didn't do anything. All what you can feel is his veiny hands around your waists.

" Sukuna? " you started and looked back.

You can see his eyes fixated on your arched lower back. His eyes darkening full of admiration and lust.

" A tattoo? " he asked,

" Y-yea ? " you were confused and worried thinking that he changed his mind and didn't wanna make love to you.

" Fuck! and I thought you were innocent huh ? "

" Why? innocent girls can't have a tramp stamp? " you said teasingly,

" Damn, and I thought you can't get any hotter.. that's so rebellious of you princes, and I enjoy handling rebellious ones " he smirked and pushed you down even more.

His tattooed hands roaming your lower back, tracing your tattoo with his nails, that poking feeling making you jump slightly but he kept you still, you can feel his breath and lips on your skin, kissing your tattooed skin, making your heart race and head spin.

" Imma enjoy this pretty view while I make you scream my name "

To say the less, he gave you the best night of your life.

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chrollohearttags · 5 months

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I heard you wanted some muscian Eren thirst so I'll do my best:

What if Ms. YN (back before she & Eren got matching/couple tattoos) got a custom temporary tattoo of her man's name & placed it like a tramp stamp? What if that night when she's performing with her crew she posts some spicy pics flashing the fake tattoo waiting for Eren to notice.

What if he noticed & when she gets home home & starts to undress she feels his hand travel up her body, bending her over the counter as he lifts her shirt to see his name just above her ass? Now YN's gone & awaken his need to mark her. Poor thing, she didn't expect him to damn near break her but she plans to surprise him with a cute lil permanent "E" on her ankle if this is the reaction a fake tattoo got. She ends up walking funny the next day for sure.

OMG BABES!! you’re an absolute genius 😭 I love this so bad chdkhdkd

because imagine…you’re on tour, traveling the country or it’s your first time performing internationally. Either way, you’ve been apart from Eren for quite some time. Although dancing on stage and living the dream with your girls is amazing, you miss your husband! Neither of you are strangers to extended periods of separation due to work. Long nights on the road, weeks at a time in different locations that wasn’t the home you shared together. It admittedly took its toll, in many forms…

“Yes, baby..I miss you too. I miss you so much..”

“So come home already. Please, (y/n)..I need you.”

the shrill cries and whiny pleas spilling from your beloved, EJ. The sound of the mega star rapper’s moans pouring from your phone’s speakers as he stroked himself on the end. That tight fist enclosed around his cock as he played the very vivid imagery of your previous nights together in his mind. It was quite apparent that he wasn’t taking too kindly to his wife being thousands of miles away from him. Watching you vicariously through a phone screen as he surveyed that beautiful body. Once twirling on the pole half nude and shrouded in glitter and now, completely naked and on full display for him. So egregiously horny with no shame for his blatant submission. Drooling and bucking his hips up into his enclosed fingers..

“Baby..I can’t..soon as I get home though. You know imma take care of you, daddy. Imma give you what you need..”

a statement he intended for you to follow through on. Because in the days since that very salacious phone call, he’d hand nothing but time and unbridled obsession on his hands..carefully surveying and watching your Instagram account like that of a hawk. Breaking his very own conditions on social media just to get a peak of his princess..his gorgeous wife who was fresh off of a performance with one of his respected ‘colleagues’, who’d joined the tour as well. Spinning around that metal pole with six inch Pleasers twirling in the air. A sight that he loved to witness. But alas, Eren would be met with another one. One far more savory and the catalyst for his greed and lust. The same greed and lust he’d undoubtedly take out on you the second you touched down back at the shared Miami estate!..

“You gonna give me what I need, right? That’s what you said?..so do it, give me that fucking pussy!”

tearing and ripping you out of your clothes before you could even so much as reach the staircase! Folding you over the kitchen counter with a rough hand scaling the curvature of your back. His open palm smacking roughly against your plump ass with heavy slaps…he was relentless! However, the reason for his sudden aggression wasn’t just the fact that he missed you. No!..but rather, the aforementioned sight had awoken something serious in him. The need to make love..the need to mark and claim you like that of a primal animal!

“..Rennn! Okaaay, fuck! Take it, please..”

because what he saw was a rather interesting piece of ink riddling your skin. A tattoo…and one of his name to be more specific! Something he was blissfully unaware that you had obtained. The fact alone that you had did so and behind his back nonetheless had Eren ready to pound that that tight pussy and fill it with every spilling drop of his cum until you couldn’t even walk straight. “You’re so sneaky, baby. I like that shit..didn’t think I’d see it, did you?” taunting mercilessly as he begins to rut his hips into your backside. The thunderous claps of your asscheeks against his pelvis with fluid yet deep strokes, one sharper than the next. All you could do was maintain that perfect arch and grasp for the marble countertop with all your strength to bear the sharp thrusts. But it wasn’t a reaction of misery. You loved it! You loved seeing him become so riled up at the thought of having you stamped with his seal. Clawing his fingernails into your waist and tugging you back with sharp gasps hissing in your ear.

“Tell me it’s mine, baby. Let daddy know who that shit belongs to..” the pure sex appeal dripping from his voice like that of honey. But he didn’t have to take your word for it. Because after countless rounds of rough and filthy lovemaking in every inch of the house. Taking you from the kitchen, the staircase and even the upstairs balcony for all the nights of pent up sexual frustration, you’d find yourself stumbling lopsidedly to the tattoo parlor. The shop where he’d gotten countless pieces on his own body done. Sitting upright in a chair as the artist engraved a single capital ‘E’ on your skin; right next to the diamond tennis anklet with his initials on it. Simply smirking at the thought of his reaction…and you didn’t have to wait long. Because nightfall would come around and you’d find yourselves engaging in another bout of steamy sex. This time in the comfort of your bedroom with R&B faintly thumping from the TV..pale red lighting illuminating the room and his chiseled body hovering over you. Placing tender kisses along your calf as he hoisted your leg up to his shoulder. Those movements getting lower as his rings grazed your skin. He’d whisper sweet nothings to compliment those pecks, telling you how beautiful you were but his reaction would turn from merely elated to all but ecstatic when he spotted it…

“You like it?..”

being met with a toothy smirk and the faint glint of his silver slugs on the bottom row of his teeth staring back at you. That was most certainly an understatement because he’d prove to you just how much he loved seeing you rock his name. Both physically and metaphorically..

“..that’s my girl..”

and soon, everyone else would too!

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blvckswxnji · 10 months

Text

Tramp Stamp | 🕯️🔗

❦.♱ʚ♡ɞ♱❦. ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ❦.♱ʚ♡ɞ♱

-xxxxx-

Pairings: [Hobie Brown x (f) Reader]

Genre: short fic, (18+)

Warnings: some strong language, smut

Summary: Hobie seems to be fan of your new tattoo…

Word Count: 1.9k

————————————————————————

It was originally an impulsive decision on your part. It had been a random Thursday afternoon, and the idea of getting a tattoo on your lower back seemed cool. And so there you were, walking into the tattoo shop, and getting that shit inked into your skin for the next hour or so. When the artist was done, you took the time to admire the beautiful line work etched into the dip of your back.

‘Oh, Hobie’s going to love this when he sees it.’ You thought, as the excitement began bubbling its way into your gut.

You weren’t going to see him until later that night so you decided it was best to take care of it until then. You weren’t going to reveal it to him right away, instead, you wanted him to discover it for himself. You knew the reaction would be worth it. For the rest of the time being, you busied yourself with miscellaneous activities to keep yourself entertained throughout the day.

When the time rolled around for his arrival, you noticed Hobie was running a bit later than usual as he still wasn’t at your place. It was getting late, so you decided on running yourself a shower to get ready for bed. With that, you grabbed your towel, and were off to the bathroom.

Hot showers were the ideal for you, and once it was at the perfect temperature you hopped in. You made sure to be mindful of your tattoo while lathering your body, and couldn’t help but bask in the warmth of the water hitting your somewhat stiff muscles. Your playlist played softly in the background as the bathroom fogged up with steam.

You had become deep within your random shower thoughts when you heard a soft thump coming from your room. You didn’t leave the shower right away as you knew it was Hobie, and were sure he heard the sound of the shower indicating where you were to him.

It wasn’t long before you were done, stepping out of the wet tub and wrapping the towel securely around your figure. After drying off your body, you quickly exited the bathroom as it started to become suffocating. You entered the room where you were met with Hobie who had laid back comfortably on your bed. Eyes closed, legs crossed and hands behind his head. He opened his eyes at the sound of the door closing behind you, smirking when he was met with the sight of you in your towel.

“Well that’s certainly a sight to be welcomed by isn’ it?” He teased, biting his lip as he sat up to make his way towards you.

You flushed at the words, shaking your head. You stood up on your toes as he stood in front of you to peck his lips, his arms wrapping around your waist. You smile at the warmth he enveloped you in.

“What took you so long?” You ask, pulling away to get dressed.

Hobie leans to sit back on your bed. His eyes never leave you as you make your way to your closet to grab a fresh set of clothing to sleep in.

“Oh ya’ know, the same old anomaly bullshit, and Miguel bein’ even more of a damn pain in my ass.” He utters nonchalantly, resting his weight on his hands.

You hum. Still aware of his lingering gaze as you walk back towards your bed.

“You gonna stare at me the whole time?” You ask with raised eyebrows, a hint of a smirk playing on your lips.

“Nothin’ I haven’t seen before right? What, you gettin’ shy love?” He tilts his head to the side teasing the question, giving you a once over.

“No.” Your answer was short. Truth be told, Hobie always knew how to fluster you up, and make you nervous. So, you swiftly move to sit at the edge of the bed and slowly unravel your towel. It sits just above the tattoo on your lower back, so Hobie couldn’t see it just yet. Although, his heavy gaze followed your every move. The cool air hits your upper body immediately and you shiver as a result.

You tug on the cami you picked out, the hem halting just above your midriff, followed by a fresh pair of underwear you slipped on under the towel.

“Sure you’re not.” You defeatedly roll your eyes at that, reaching for your shorts. Standing up, you feel the cool air graze your lower body as the towel slips completely from your form. Although you couldn’t see it, the sharp breath of air that resonated behind you was all you needed to know what Hobie looked like. Still, you pretend not to notice, playing coy.

“Whatever Hobie,” you comment, turning to face him, “wanna watch a movie or something?” You ask, climbing up your bed to hover over him with a smile on your face. You lean in to peck his lips expecting a response, but your movement is suddenly halted as you feel two strong hands grab at your hips, and spin you so that your back is facing him again. You let out a yelp, losing your balance at the sudden movement with your side coming in contact with your mattress.

With not much time to process what was happening, you’re then pushed to lay on your stomach, followed up by the hem of your shorts being pulled down slightly to reveal your full tattoo.

“When were you gonna tell me about this hm?” His voice is low when he asks. His thumb tracing the intricate lines dancing across your skin as he examines the ink. The proximity of his body as he lifts his head to pry you of an answer makes you shiver a bit.

You turn your head to face him, his face inches from yours as his eyes darken.

“Oh this? Got it done earlier, thought you’d like it.” You smirk. “Wanted to surprise you.”

“What, you like it?” You ask him already knowing the answer.

He smirks with hooded eyes as he glances back down at the tattoo, gripping the side of your hip even harder before moving his hand down lower to grasp your ass.

You gasp softly at the feeling.

He leans into your ear. So much so, that his lips caress the shell, creating a tingling sensation across your body.

“Love it so much on you, I want to see it with no clothes on.” He whispers as he tugs at the hem of your shorts to pull them down even further.

You blush at the statement as he begins to lay kisses to your neck. “Hobie I just got dressed, and I just came from the shower.” It was a half-hearted plea, as he continued his motions that made your body heat up in anticipation.

“Shoulda’ thought about that before you got dressed babe.” He quipped, creating bruises on the soft skin of your neck as he moved to hover over you.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him closer to you, threading your fingers in his hair as you move to kiss his lips passionately. “Or maybe I did, and just wanted you to undress me yourself.” You say, looking up at him through your lashes, a hint of mischief in your eyes.

Hobie looks down at you with a smirk on his face. He doesn’t say anything as he leans closer to you, hand traveling under your cami and up towards your breast. High just enough to where his thumb could caress the underside of it.

“In that case, I’m glad to do the honors then.” He mutters before smashing his lips to yours. You would never get enough of how warm they were, and the cold sensation his piercings created when meshed with your lips.

Hobie grabbed the hem of your shirt, breaking away from the kiss to pull it over your head, rendering you nude from the waist up. His hands immediately grabbed at both of your breasts, fingers tweaking at the hardened nipples making your back arch off the bed and into him. He always knew how sensitive they were when you were aroused and it only made him want to pleasure you more.

You feel his hand travel down the length of your back, moving his hand to squeeze the side of your hip before flipping you over once again.

“Swear, you’re gonna give me whiplash if you keep doing that.” You complain as you turn your head to face him.

He grins at your reaction, “relax babe, nothin’ you can’t handle.” He says, pulling your backside up to his front, against his hips.

Hobie then makes quick work of removing his shirt, followed by the removal of your bottoms leaving you completely exposed. His hand runs down the expanse of your back, stopping at the ink that decorated the skin of your lower back.

“It’s so beautiful, can’t wait to see it as I ravish you.” He mutters lightly, making you whimper softly at the words. The next thing you know, you feel his soft lips kiss the dip of your back. You feel them as they drag across your skin, going lower and lower. You shudder when you feel his nose eventually brush against your folds, causing you to moan into your pillow.

“Shit.” You whisper against the fabric as you feel his tongue begin to explore your opening.

“You always taste so good f’me sweetheart.” You blush at his praise. “I need to fuck you right now.” He breathes airily.

“Please Hobie, I need you.” You beg.

It wasn’t long after that you found said man railing into you from behind. Arms behind your arched back, face smothered into the sheets, and loud moans falling from your lips.

The sheer force that Hobie’s hips subjected you to, turned your brain into mush. The sound of skin slapping emitting all throughout the room, while both of your bodies became slick in a thin layer of sweat.

You felt as if your body was going to give out with the rate you two were going at, and Hobie could tell. Yet, he couldn’t help himself. Not when with each slam of his hips, he would be rewarded with the sight of your tattoo rippling in tandem with your skin. The way it moved as he drove himself deeper and deeper into your cunt, drove him insane.

It was just so hot to him.

“Fuck Hobie, I’m gonna come.” You yell, feeling the coil in your abdomen tightening with each thrust.

“Shit, I’m close too.” He utters practically out of breath. He reaches for your neck to pull you up so your back is to his chest. “Come for me baby.” He says, whispering in your ear, thrusting faster.

With that, you are finally pushed to the edge as the coil in your stomach snaps and you come undone on him.

You throw your head back in pure ecstasy, stars clouding your vision behind your eyelids as your moans fill the room. Hobie’s not far behind you as you hear a pleasured groan escape his lips and feel warm liquid fill your walls.

You feel Hobie drop his head onto your shoulder, breathing rapidly as he comes down from his high. Hot breath tickling your neck, before he sets the both of you down, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close.

You both lay like that for a while, waiting for your bodies to cool down. His fingers softly tracing the outlines of the inked design etched in your back.

You lean into his touch, not wanting the small moment to end as it all was too perfect of a feeling.

You shuffle onto your other side to face him, cupping his jaw and bringing your lips to his in a soothing kiss. Breaking away you smirk at him.

“M’ guessing you liked it then?”

————————————————————————

I’m so glad I got this done lmao this whole week has been so tiring for me so I’m sry for the delay. Hope y’all enjoyed! <3

#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader smut #atsv #atsv fanfiction #atsv imagines #atsv smut #fanfic #astv x reader

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gatorbites-imagines · 4 months

Note

John Constantine x tattoo artist?? Smut or no (you choose!) I think it would be cute if john gets his tats from the reader (also kind of a possessive/marking quality there lol)

John Constantine x Tattoo artist male reader

Headcanons

Sorry there’s been no posts this week, classes have started up again, so as you can imagine I’m exhausted and have a lot less free time. I’ve been using most of my free time to read JJK, ngl.

Imagine being a magical tattoo artist, something like a seal maker. You do large complex and beautiful pieces, but you hide different seals and protection markers inside the patterns. It keeps the real purpose of the tattoo a secret, but is also pretty to look at.

John already has tattoos in the hellblazer comics, but imagine you giving him different ink. Something a lot less obvious and more attractive.

It makes him pass as a hot blonde British guy covered in a lot of fancy ink, instead of some brit with lotsa weird cult looking tattoos.

John becomes one of your most common customers, mainly because a lot of the tattoos you put on him disappear after the seals been used, since its all defense and storage. He might also use it as an excuse to see you more, so he can flirt.

John being John, would get a tattoo right above his crotch, think like a reverse tramp stamp, or a succubus tattoo, just so he can have you sitting between his thighs as he gives his flirting his all.

You definitely end up railing him within an inch of his life in the tattoo chair, tsking and “punishing” him for straining the tattooed area too much, and “messing up your work” when he writhes too much.

In the beginning its just a friends with benefits situation, something like a “happy ending” you might say. John wouldn’t be someone to do relationships for the most part, since most of the ones he’s been in haven’t ended great.

He subconsciously also wouldn’t want to paint a target on your back, since hes always involved with all kinds of stuff. But he cant help but always find himself back with you, getting some new seal inked onto his skin.

And if every visit ends up with him bent over the tattoo chair, or down on his knees to “thank you”, then who will judge him.

John would end up finally acknowledging his feelings when you save him from his big bad of the week, using your complex and intricate tattoos to pull out weapons and spells, and later seal the being that’s after him.

Its hard to deny how he feels after that, and though he wouldn’t put it into words, he would act differently. Like just showing up at your parlor to spend time with you without getting anything done, or sending you little protection charms or trinkets.

At some point you guys just start kissing and acting like a couple, without actually putting a name to it. It’s a dangerous life you both live, and words mean everything, so you never tell anybody you guys are lovers, since that would make the target on you both even bigger.

It doesn’t keep you guys from pretty much living together and acting all domestic, or being completely exclusive to just each other. John turning down all advances made on him confuses people in the beginning, until they just come to accept it.

John ends up with even more tattoos, these a lot more complex than average useable seals. These are the kinds that you have spent your entire life developing, and had only used on yourself because they’re that powerful.

The league are knocked back by how powerful his spells have become, and how much damage he can withstand. Only other magic users with the knowledge know just how amazing his tattoos are. He never tells them where he got them, just because he’s an ass.

You end up helping out more with his business, and he ends up being free advertisement for your parlor. Of course, no one gets tattoos like you or John, you would never give a possible enemy that kind of power, but it helps pad your pockets quite a lot.

John’s enemies end up targeting you as well, but they’re easily dealt with for the most part.

He ends up getting teased be friends and allies that he’s getting soft and domestic, cuz he doesn’t go out to bars like before, and wants to be home in time to watch a movie with you, or just go to sleep together.

He ends up a lot less stressed too, since you rock his world whenever he needs it, and become someone he can let down his defenses and just be vulnerable with.

In the end he probably gets pavloved to get in the mood when you tattoo him, or he hears the noise of the tattoo gun. John always blames you for making him this way, because you always go down on him after giving him new ink, not that he’s complaining.

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rustytrident · 1 year

Text

time for the token pact mark hcs every obey me writing account has!!

kinda 18+ on asmo's section but not in the way u think.

mammon's pact mark came first, and you couldn't say you were surprised when it showed up on the palm of your dominant hand. circular, not too intricate, shining yellow; it wasn't exactly hard to miss but it wasn't too obvious, compared to the ones you would gather along the way. mammon still finds every chance to hold your hand, trace his sigil – hell, even high five you – so he can feel his power merged with your energy (his favourite is when you cup his face with that hand, but of course he won't admit it).

leviathan's showed up on your sternum – an interesting spot, you thought, but rolled with it either way. it was only when you felt envy for the first time after your pact that you realised it weighs down more on your chest than any other spot on your body. did you kinda feel like iron man, walking around with an orange circle in the middle of your chest? yeah. did you thank whoever decided the mark would show up there when levi cuddled his face into your sternum to feel your combined energy before he fell asleep? yeah <3.

beelzebub's showed up on your tongue, and no matter how obvious the spot is you just couldn't find it the first few days?? like okay pact is here but here where?? then you yawned in front of a mirror by chance and almost gave yourself whiplash cause why was your tongue bleeding?? upon further inspection, you concluded it was just a pact mark! long, branching out like the roots of a tree, like lightning, from the back to the front of your tongue, it looked sick. now, did you start taking selfies with your tongue out because of a newfound bad boy look or was it because you wanted to show off your demon – that is up to the audience's interpretation.

asmodeus gave you a tramp stamp. a fucking tramp stamp. you don't even know whether to laugh or cry the first time you see it in all its pink glory, so you do neither. you call solomon. you ask him where his pact mark is. he answers "on my lower back, right above my ass". you hang up the phone. asmo later on explains that he's doing you a favour by getting you into 2000s fashion, and that you should be glad the pact mark showed up there, and not on the spot the beings he doesn't have romantic feelings for get it. you don't ask where that is, but you do start wearing more low rise clothes. asmo's home screen after that is him hugging your ass after he put you in his juicy sweatpants with the bedazzled JUICY on them, pact mark on full display.

satan's pact mark is on your temples – two small, spiked circle sigils, green as his sin's colour. he says you look hot when you get mad and they light up, and when you roll your eyes at him he reassures you that you look just as badass, too. the one time you watched back a video leviathan took of you failing to beat a boss for what felt the hundredth time on the newest game he bought, you understood what satan meant. if you're the type of person to cry while angry, your red eyes make the green marks show up even more – satan says during those moments you look like a siren, and you accept it with a bashful nod. it would be improper to deny a compliment from a demon lord, anyway.

belphegor's mark showed up on your nape. you're bummed out about not being able to see it when you'd like, but he says it's fine. really, who wouldn't be overjoyed about having purple, star-like freckles at the back of their neck, right? especially when your demon says they remind him of the sky in the human world, hence the design and detail that was put into it. sometimes, belphegor likes to fall asleep while spooning you and kissing the stars on your nape. will he admit it? nah. but you know, and he knows, and that's enough (he's usually asleep after the 11th star. yes, you counted).

lucifer gave you the longest mark you had, starting from the top of your neck, and dropping down between your collar bones. it looked like a very intricate dagger, with a carved blade, the tip of it resting at the spot where your ribcage starts. when you asked him about it, he told you that pride, the sin and the feeling both, demands of you to keep your head up. hold your head down, submit, show humility, and you miss it. and so, you kept your head up. it wasn't like lucifer carelessly handed out pacts and emotional bonds with the beings of any realm – and you couldn't say you disliked when his eyes trailed down to your neck before returning to your eyes again, with a softer look this time.

gonna close this by saying that the only pact mark placements I've seen are on mc's back, placed in a sigil wheel, or one atop the other in a line on their spine. still, if someone has said what I said before me, tell me so i can credit them!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub x reader #belphegor x reader #sing me a song // the song of our glory

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jupipedia · 6 months

Text

summertime ! — t. fushiguro. ↳ toji can't focus on anything as he is too busy imagining what's under your pretty little sundress. ↳ content warning : nsfw ( minors do not interact! ), black!reader, implied plus size! reader, or*l ( f. receiving ), faces*tting, unprotected s*x ( don't even think about it. ), cre*mpie(s), an*l play ( f. receiving ), c*rvix f*cking ( she's always here )c*m-eating ( y'all lol ), praise, p*ssydrunk toji, overst*mulation ( both receiving ), groping, idk what else fr.

shiu has been talking to toji for at least the past ten minutes and toji couldn't repeat anything he said. he was too focused on you in your pretty blue sundress.

well, more so what under it.

he could tell you weren't wearing a bra as your nipples were prominent through the fabric that clung to your figure. he nearly drooled at the sight of his initial sitting snug between your breast, dangling from the dainty gold chain wrapped around your smooth neck. he nearly groaned once you turned your back to him completely, visualizing the tramp stamp that sat above you plump ass. he assumed you weren't wearing any underwear as well, not seeing the panty line that should cover the swell of your ass.

he knows that you were aware of the effect that the sundress had on him. he could tell by your sneaky smile when you caught his stare. you even had a calculated switch when you walked by him, the jiggle of your ass begging for his undivided attention. he almost regrets not cancelling the cookout after seeing you in that flimsy material.

"you're not even listening to me, are you?" shiu asked, noticing toji's lack of reaction as he spoke.

"nope. i have to take care of something. find some new company," toji said, not sparing his acquaintance a second glance before heading in your direction.

he didn't give you a chance to excuse yourself from your conversation, opting to grab you shoulders and lead you in the direction of your shared home.

"nigga, what are you—" you asked, trying to turn around and rejoin your company.

"shut up or i'll fuck you in front of all of them," toji's gruff voice caused your stomach to pool with arousal. you allowed him to continue to lead you away, suppressing an excited grin once you reached the back door. once it was locked, the two of you sprinted up the steps, taking them two or three at a time. you scurried into your shared bedroom, dodging the wandering hands of your husband as he tried to hike up your dress.

toji wasted no time once the two of you entered your shared bedroom, scooping you up with his hands grasping the fat of your ass. his lips left no part of your neck unmarked as he kissed along your throat, leaving stinging marks in his wake.

"you and this flimsy ass sundress. you're killing me out there, sweetheart," he grumbled, kissing the tender spot under your ear. an aroused sigh left your lips as you tangled your fingers in hair.

toji adjusted his hold on you in order to slowly strip you of your dress, taking his time to grope at the globes of your ass and fat of your hips. you started to hiss at him after hearing the slight rip of your sundress, him responding with a dopey smile and faux apologies.

once you were left bare before your husband, toji leaned back to take in your nude image. you were a sight to see. his eyes trailed from the valley between your breast to your navel and stopped at the mound of his favorite place to be. he couldn't rip his eyes from you as his eyes trailed back up to your face and noticed your almost bashful smile.

"getting shy on me, hm? after all these years," he teased, smirking as you turned away from him. he moves forward, grabbing your chin in his hand to force you to look in his eyes. "wanna do me a favor, pretty girl?"

you hummed in response and his smirk widened. "sit on my face, yeah? wanna see my girl up, close, and personal."

he doesn't offer you any time to question his favor as he lets go of your face and lays back onto the bed. he allows you to take your time maneuvering to straddle his face, grinning once your glistening cunt came into his view. he clicked his tongue as you remained hovering, always hesitant when it came to sitting on his face. he took matters into his own hands, pulling your cunt to his tongue and holding you firmly in place as you squirmed at the contact.

"f-fuck, toji," you choked out, gripping the headboard as your hips buck towards his mouth. he had barely started and you could feel yourself becoming a mess for him. your thighs twitched around his head as he plunged his tongue in your tight heat, collecting all of your essence and swallowing loudly, slurping you for all you could offer. he groaned wildly into your cunt, savoring your heady taste. as you felt yourself approach your orgasm, you tapped on toji's chest and attempted to lift your hips from his face, only to be forcefully pulled back down towards his hungered mouth. "shit, i'm gonna cum if you don't let me up."

"then cum," are the muffled words that leave toji's lips as he never paused his ministrations. your hips jerk a few times before your entire body began to shake as you came into his mouth, your encense dripping onto his awaiting tongue. "mmm, good girl."

toji's hold on your love handles loosened after a few more swipes of your core. he shuffled you down to his bare lower half, having removed his pants while eating you out. he chased your lips as your face came into view, tongue caressing your own in his hurry.

"my pretty girl," his mumbles on your lips, his breathe mingling with your own. "need you to ride me."

he maneuvers you to slip down his stiff cock, immediately groaning as your vice wrapped around his leaking tip. a shiver ran through your body as you engulfed his cock, pleasure pooling in your stomach as he filled you. you took a few seconds to savor the feeling of being completely full before lifting your hips and dropping yourself back down. you moaned loudly, removing one hand from his chest to cover your mouth, hoping to muffle your sounds. it was ineffective as your volume continued to rise the more that you rode him.

"fuck, you feel like a dream, doll. always so tight for me," toji's rough hands found their way back to your hips as he guided your hips, controlling the tempo of your movements. his mind was clouded with thoughts of you and your body, thinking of all the different ways he wanted you right now. he couldn't care less about being a bad host, not when he was lost in the feeling of your warm, leaking pussy sucking him deeper into you.

your release blindsided both you and toji as your body tensed up once more and your pussy tightened around his dick, triggering his own release. toji's head swirled as he continued to rut into you, having planted his feet on the bed to take over.

you inhaled sharply as you felt one of his hefty fingers circle your clenched muscle. you looked down at the man under you and met his dazed stare, still aware enough to wait for your permission. you gave him a slight nod and fell against his chest, placing your face in the crook of his neck. his finger prodded at your hole, slipping in with more ease than expected. a whine escaped you as you grew fuller, the pleasure and pain of overstimulation being amplified at the intrusion.

you were reduced to babbles as toji continued to fuck up into you while toying with your asshole, having added an additional finger once he deemed you lose enough.

"i can't get enough of you, angel. you're too good f'me. always so obedient. lettin' me take what i want. mmm, s'pretty, baby," toji said, words slurring together as lust and love clouded his mind. he flips the two of your over before resuming his thrust, this time with more fervor. he keeps his eyes on your contorted face, loving the way your eyes watered from the pleasure.

"toji! fuck~ i l-love you! please ah- please! 's too m-much! feels too good! don't stop," you gargle your words, drool falling down your chin as you took the harsh thrusts that toji gave you. he hiked your leg over his shoulder, this new angle knocking the wind out of you as he began to kiss your cervix. a guttural groan falls from toji's lips as your entire body begins to tremble and clear streams begin to escape your pussy. toji slurs your name a few time before thrusting into you once more, filling your pussy with a second load.

"fuck, mama," he sighed, dropping his head into the crook of your neck before placing kisses along the column of your throat, light bruises being left in his wake. he stops at the top of your breast before pulling back to take in your spent image. he slowly pulls out of you, groaning at the sight of his cum spilling out of your pussy. he scoops your mixed releases onto two of his fingers and places them in his mouth, groaning at the taste.

toji quickly shuffles his body down the bed as he come face to face with your heat once more. he kitten licks your entrance, gathering more of the essence on his tongue before wrapping his lips around your swollen clit. he smiled dopily at the sound of your whines before diving in completely.

"you can give me another, right? can't you, beautiful?" he mumbled into your mound, your clit twitching with new excitement. he was so occupied with cleaning you out and bringing you to another climax that he didn't hear the chime of his phone.

from : shiu

you're fucking gross, by the way.

#*ੈ✩‧₊˚❕*∘∘˙˚༄💨 ( a jupiter production. )#toji fushiguro #toji smut #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #anime x black!reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x black reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji x plus sized reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen toji

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drudyslut · 5 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/drudyslut/736974567442120704

I don’t really have a plot for this but since tramp stamps are back in, reader gets a tramp stamp of rafe (or jj) name

warnings: reader has a secret tattoo of jj’s name, sweet!jj, ass smacking, language.

this makes me think of that one scene in OTH where Nathan sees Haley’s tattoo of his jersey number above her ass🤭 iykyk.

“Jesus be careful babe, you’re gonna get yourself hurt up there”

You snort out a laugh, letting yourself rest from the tip-toe position you were in and swinging your head to face JJ.

“I got it baby, promise i’ll be careful”

JJ rolls his eyes, a sideways grin on his face as he watches you lift yourself back up onto your toes, hands outstretched as you reached into the attic in search of the Christmas tree.

You were so focused on your task at hand you hadn’t felt your shirt slightly rise, exposing your lower back to JJ, giving him a perfect view of the new tattoo you’d gotten a few days ago.

“What is that?” JJ asks, his brow knit in confusion as he squinted his eyes leaned closer toward you.

You drop back down, descending the steps of the ladder until your feet were planted safely on the ground again. You turn on your heels to face him, noting the look of shock on his face causing your own look of confusion to work its way onto your face.

“What’s what?” You ask, brow still knit in confusion as you searched his blue eyes.

“That tattoo, on your lower back?”

He reaches his hand out to lift your shirt again, but you quickly swat his hand away, your face burning in slight embarrassment when you realize he’d caught a glimpse of the tattoo- more specifically the tattoo of his name right above your ass.

“Oh it’s- it’s nothing”

JJ quirks his brow, and amused smirk on his lips.

“Baby just lemme see”

You sigh, turning your back toward him and lifting your shirt just enough for him to see his name in bold black letters.

“JJ? You got- You got my name tattooed above your ass? When?!”

“A few days ago..” You admit, releasing the bottom of your shirt and turning back to face him.

“Is that weird? You’re weirded out aren’t you? Fuck! I knew it was stu-”

JJ cuts your sentence short when he cups your cheeks in his hands, his lips leaving a burning kiss on yours before he lets his eyes find yours again.

“No, no stop! It’s not weird, i’m not weirded out. It’s actually really hot. Everyone knows you’re my girl now” He pauses, his blue irises scanning the length of your face before his lips upturn into a smile. “Lemme see it again”

You roll your eyes, pulling his hands from your face and turning your back toward him again. You feel him bunch up the fabric of your shirt, a low whistle falling from his lips as he runs his fingers across the two small letters. “JJ. Fuck how’d I get so lucky, that’s so sexy baby”

You squeal when you feel his hand land a hard playful smack on your ass, a low chuckle falling from his lips as he lands another smack to the fatty flesh.

“I just love you s’all. Wanted to mark myself with your name so everyone knows who I belong to”

JJ brings his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes darkened over as he stares at the tattoo in awe, “Damn right you belong to me. Let’s go, you got me worked up, we’ll deal with this Christmas shit later”

JJ TAGLIST: @rafeism @ivy-34 @writingjjfics @always-reading @jesssssmaybank @harrys-humble-housewife @maybankspov @immyowndefender @jjmaybankswifes-blog @wetbitchlibrary @lizcameron @xprloki @moremaybank @alexisbaumann2004 @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @thewitchesofart @unsaidjaelinrose @itsmytimetoodream @r1vrsefx @mel119g @rafetopia @jjmaybankisbae @fayerite @drewstarkeyslut @presleyanswrites @sierraluvz @carma-fanficaddict @madzzz0797 @slytherhoes @jscameron @ijustwanttoreadlols

jj masterlist | requests | taglist form

#jj maybank #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank imagine #obx jj maybank #obx jj #obx x reader #obx

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daycourtofficial · 3 months

Text

Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor - Part 6

Summary: Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door.

Author’s note: getting some tension here 👀 and yes the opening scene is inspired by How I Met Your Mother. This ends on a sad note for Azzy Baby so a bit angsty

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Masterlist)

Azriel isn’t surprised as his front door opens to find you bursting through it, as you had texted him about fifteen minutes ago if you could come over and tell him something. You quickly lock the door behind yourself, turning to face himself and Rhysand.

“So you guys know how Cassian and I got drunk last night after dinner,” you start before Rhys cuts you off with his hand. “Please don’t tell me Cass made it three weeks with a female roommate before having sex with her.”

You grimace at him, “ew, no.”

A look passes between Azriel and Rhys, one you can’t quite make out, but Azriel stands a bit straighter after your words.

“As I was saying - we got drunk, and after you guys left, we were walking down to go get donuts from the place on the corner when we passed a tattoo parlor and we went in.”

After the dinner with Mor last night, Feyre dropped the four of you off and you all had congregated into yours and Cassian’s apartment. You were tipsy for most of the night, Rhys and Az had the slightest hint of a buzz, and Cassian was bordering on blackout because he “wanted to take advantage of not doing anything the next day”.

Your mention of a tattoo parlor got their attention very quickly. You start giggling then, jumping up and down at what you have to tell them. You can’t contain your excitement as you blurt out, “Cassian got a tramp stamp and I don’t think he remembers it.”

They both look at you in shocked silence then start laughing. They start asking a million questions - “what is it? What color is it?” After a minute you tell them, “he’s awake and I know he’ll be over any minute - we have to remain calm. You need to see it.”

You turn back, unlocking the door for Cassian. The three of you wait in pained silence until you hear the knob turning, prompting you and Rhys to begin two completely different conversations to fill the silence.

“So like I said she was hot-“

“My professor is a jackass who wouldn’t -“

Cassian walks in, too hungover to notice the conflicting dialogues. He walks in shirtless and you start practically buzzing in excitement. You send warning glares to his brothers, trying to communicate, “please please please you need to see it before you say anything”.

Cassian groans a greeting to you three, walking past the three of you to open the fridge door. As he searches for whatever it is he wants, the three of you crowd behind him to look at the little blue candy heart that says “babygirl” in pink script tattooed just above his ass.

Rhys shoves his fingers in his mouth to keep from laughing and Azriel’s about to break when you slap a hand over his mouth. You all try so hard to keep from laughing, which makes it that much harder to restrain yourselves.

Rhys cracks first, unable to stop himself as he asks, “are you lost, babygirl,” referencing that godsawful 365 Days movie Cassian made you all watch a few days ago.

The three of you lose it, and Azriel collapses to the floor in giggles, taking you with him. From the ground you watch Cassian’s confused brain try to make sense of why you all were laughing so hard when Rhys slaps right where the fresh tattoo lied and Cassian yelps in pain.

“Oh gods, why does that hurt so much?” He stills, running straight for Azriel’s bathroom. The three of you follow, standing outside the door listening for Cassian’s moment of realization. He screams in shock, running back out, pointing a finger at you.

“You did this!”

“Me?” You ask, between giggles, “I think it was you, babygirl.”

That sends Azriel over the edge again, and he starts giggling into your hair.

“I’m getting it removed asap,” Cassian grounds out, storming out the apartment, leaving the three of you to giggle and mock him a bit more.

The week goes by in a blur of classes and project work. You don’t see much of Azriel, but the two of you text frequently after sending him that first message about Cassian’s tattoo.

The two of you would send photos of valentine’s hearts to each other, clearly mocking Cassian, asking, “would this look good on my chest?”

You had spent most of the week glued to your phone, waiting for his responses. Feyre even got mad at you when you had dinner at her place on Wednesday because you kept glancing at your phone while she was telling you something.

You began apologizing, telling her about you and Az texting, when her own phone buzzed taking away her attention. You had sat back as her gaze moved to her phone, hands itching to respond to Rhysand.

“Go on,” you told her, “pot calling the kettle back, I see.”

Today was Friday, so you didn’t have any classes, however you did spend the day TAing for several Organic Chemistry labs, the first of which had Rhysand in it. He had offered to drive you to campus, and after dinner with Feyre, you’re wondering if it’s just so he can talk to you about your friend.

You walked into their apartment, ready to meet Rhysand when you were met with a beautiful girl on their couch. She had long blonde hair in a nest braid on her head, and her silver eyes pierced you as you entered the apartment.

You look around, checking that you’re in the right apartment, and offer her a small smile, trying not to look as shocked as you feel as you shut the door behind yourself.

Was Rhys seeing someone?

She tells you, “I’m Nesta,” and you nod, offering her your own name back. She quirks a small smile at that, leaning back in the seat. “Interesting,” she says, “you’re just like Azriel described.” Her eyes roam up and down your body, and her face remains neutral, not giving you any hint of what she sees.

You want to know more about how Azriel had described you, when the man in question comes out of his room and stops at the sight of you talking to Nesta.

“Hey,” he tells you, and you’re too focused on watching him to notice Nesta roll her eyes at how much he had deepened his voice. She starts to say something, and he realizes it, strolling over to give her his notebook to keep her quiet.

The teasing words die on her tongue, replaced by words of gratitude. Azriel breaks eye contact with her to see you’ve started to stand, saying, “I’m gonna go wait outside - uh clearly you have company.”

Azriel looks at you, your face riddled with confusion and something else he can’t quite place.

“No, don’t worry. I was just leaving. I’ll see you tonight?” She asks, turning back to Azriel, “7?”

You wince at the date they’ve made, and Azriel definitely notices. He nods, “yeah, I’ll see you.”

He walks her to the door, before turning back to you, an interesting look on your face.

“She’s uh nice,” you stammer out, heart beating wildly once he shuts the door behind her.

Of course someone as pretty as Azriel needs someone as striking as Nesta. Were you a fool this whole time? To consider he might harbor affections for you? Was all the texting just niceties between neighbors?

“Not to new people she isn’t,” he replies, hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet.

“She was nice to me,” which makes it ten times harder for you to hate her. Your face flushed with embarrassment at having read this whole situation wrong. You are internally pleading with any force in the universe to make Rhys hurry up so you can bury yourself in shame and embarrassment away from Azriel.

“Well that’s because-“ but the words die on his tongue, as Rhys strolls out of his room, clearly hearing your prayers.

“Oh there you are, come on let’s go,” he tells you, grabbing his bookbag, snapping at you like you’re the problem, “we’re going to be late.”

Azriel’s brows furrow, “where are you two headed off to?”

Rhys smiles, “didn’t you know? She’s my lovely TA for O Chem lab.”

Azriel pulled up to the building later that night, hopping off his bike after spending hours with Nesta at the library. She was doing a minor in computer science, so she was taking the same electives as Azriel and they met weekly to do their homework together.

Tonight’s topic for review was all about you and how Nesta is certain that you were jealous of her sitting in his apartment and she was equally certain that any man in a city block would be lining up to ask you out.

“Don’t wait too long, Az,” she had told him as they walked towards the parking lot, mostly empty due to how early it was in the semester and the late hour. “She’s awfully pretty and smart. I’d date her.”

She smirked at Azriel’s disapproving look, thanking him for the notes from yesterday’s lecture.

Nesta’s words ring in his head as he spots you at the door of your building, a little black dress adorning your body. He walks closer, opting to leave his helmet on, eyes glued to how the dress covers your curves, and it takes a moment to realize that you’re with someone.

And not just anyone.

A guy. Some guy. Some guy that wasn’t himself.

Fuck, he thinks.

Did he have it all wrong? Were you seeing someone - responding to his texts because of pity? You had been so nice - were you just this nice to everyone? The subtle touches, the quick glances, did he make them all up?

He hadn’t thought much of your lack of communication today - you had told him previously that Fridays are a busy day for you, but now he knows you likely spent the afternoon getting ready for this date.

He keeps the helmet on as he walks past, not even hearing your conversation with the guy. He tries to keep himself from being noticed as he walks right past you, the scent of vanilla and flowers hitting him. He walks through the lobby, straight into the waiting elevator.

His fingers stay pressed on the button that leads to your floor, moving to stay pressed on the “close doors” button. He can’t stomach the sight of you two, and he certainly can’t stomach sharing an elevator with you two, forced into making small talk with your date.

His thoughts whirl and swirl with the texts you had been exchanging all week since you all had dinner together as he leans his helmeted head against the closed elevator doors. Jokes shared between you two into the odd hours of the night.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had stayed up texting someone, not wanting to go to sleep for fear of ending the conversation. He thought he had even heard you laughing through the wall at his dumb jokes. He had even fallen asleep while waiting for your response last night, his phone unlocked next to his face to your chain of texts the first thing he saw that morning.

The doors to the elevator open and he walks to his apartment, unlocking the door, and trudging into his room. He pulls off his helmet, chucking it somewhere in his room. He replaces it with his headphones, cranking the volume up as loud as it will go, to drown out any noise that could filter in from the apartment next door.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel x y/n #azriel angst #acotar writing

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danikamariewrites · 8 months

Note

can i please request one where reader has a tramp stamp/ hidden tattoo ? like in one tree hill hayley has the number 23 as a tramp stamp for her man nathan, maybe something symbolic for the acotar men. maybe Truth-teller for azriel, cassians wings, rhysands name maybe? a flame for eris and a little fox for lucien?🧎‍♀️

Secret Tattoo

Acotar men x reader

A/n: they would be so turned on omg. I won’t lie I have literally thought about a tramp stamp as a joke and then I was like nnaaaahhhh that would be bad 😂

Warnings: some smut

Cassian

You always made sure to hide it from him. You got it while drunk and out with Feyre and Mor. They both got one for Rhys and Emerie too but Rhys found Feyre’s pretty quick. You and Cassian were having a heated makeout session which brought you to your bedroom. Once you were both bare Cassian flipped you on your stomach and started to take you from behind. Lost in the heat of the moment you forgot about the tattoo. Cassian finally seemed to notice and stopped thrusting. “What? What’s wrong baby?” You were worried something happened. He started laughing and tracing his finger over the tattoo. “And what do we have here?” He laughed out. You pulled off him and scrambled to lay on your back. Cass was staring at you with a shit eating grin. “A tramp stamp huh? All for me too.” You rolled your eyes.

“Yes.” You spat back. “I like the wings. You got the wingspan right, nice and big. What’s in the middle?” “A red gem for your siphons.” You say shyly. Before you knew it he was back on top of you, pulling you into a bruising kiss. “Mother above baby that’s hot. You’re all mine and have the ink to prove it. Fuck.”

Rhysand

Rhys would notice while you were still asleep. You both occasionally sleep naked, especially during the summer months with the windows open. Rhys was getting ready for the day and went to give you your goodbye kiss when he saw little swirls on your lower back. Just the top poking out of the top of the covers. He slowly pulled the duvet back so he wouldn’t wake you. When the tattoo was fully revealed to him, Rhys couldn’t stop grinning. It was his name surrounded by swirls to mimic his Illyrian tattoos. Rhys was so turned on he wanted to wake you up and fuck you into the mattress until all you could say was his name. He wanted to just look at the tattoo while going in and out of you. But he decided to wait. Maybe tease you about it a little.

When you waltzed into his office later on that day Rhys smiled and acted like everything was normal. “Come sit with me darling,” he held his arms out for you and hugged you to his chest once you sat down. “How has your day been so far?” While you talked he rubbed circles over your sweater where your tattoo is hidden. Rhys snakes his hand under and lifted it a little. You didn’t jump away from him bc you didn’t want him to get suspicious. You move to leave and Rhys held the back of your sweater lifting it a little. You froze. “Well,” he drawled, “it looks even better when you’re awake.” Your jaw dropped as you spun to face him. Rhys winked at you.

Azriel

You’d try to hide it from Azriel but simply couldn’t help yourself. You had gotten Truth Teller with his shadows around it as a tramp stamp. Usually you’d need to be drunk to go anywhere near a needle, especially something permanent. But Nesta, Feyre, and Mor were all getting tattoos and you wanted one so you had to join in on the fun.

Azriel was relaxing in bed reading when you came out of the bathroom, leaning on the door frame, practically undressing him with your eyes. He stared back at you with a mischievous smirk. “Hello, my love.” “Hi Azzy.” You push off the door frame and plop yourself down on the bed in front of him crossing your legs. Azriel leans forward and starts playing with the ends of your hair. “You look like you have something to tell me love.” You giggle and nod innocently. When you turn around he’s confused. Then you lift your sleep shirt up enough for him to see. Azriel’s jaw drops when he sees it. He thinks it’s a beautiful piece of art on your body. But then something in his mind snaps. You did this because you are so in love and devoted to him. It shows him that you’re his forever. Then he goes feral. He pulls your shirt all the way off and starts whispering his dirty thoughts in your ear.

Lucien

He would find it when it’s fresh and new. Lucien could smell the ink on your back. He knew you wouldn’t tell him about it so he’d have to coax it out of you any way he could. Every time Lucien went to touch your back you’d side step away from him. He’d start to tease you about hiding something and you’d get flustered because he’s so smooth and charming your cheeks always turned pink.

Eventually he had enough and said, “I know your hiding something just show me.” You shook your head not wanting to give in. Lucien could see it when you were good and ready to show him. When he got on his knees and begged you, you gave in and turned to let him lift your shirt. “Wow.” He breathed out. “It’s beautiful, sunshine. Is it for me?” “Yes.” You say, turning to hold his jaw in your hand while the other strokes his long auburn hair. It was a fox running surrounded by wildflowers for him.

Eris

Eris not thought about a tattoo for himself or one for you. But the more he thought about it after you brought it up the hotter he thought it would be. Matching tattoos with you would be perfect. Showing that your bond is physical. More than your scents intertwined and more than that primal need for each other. When he went to go talk to you one day he smelled that your scent was a little different. The metallic scent of blood and ink embedded into your skin. “Darling, did you get a tattoo?” You looked down shyly “would you think differently of me if I did?”

“Not at all. I want to get a matching one with you.” You looked up at him with love on your eyes and wrap your arms around his neck. “Can I see what you got?” You nodded and turned. “It’s on my back will you…” “oh yes,” Eris starts to untie the ribbon on the back of your dress and you shrug it off, still covering your breasts. Eris’s breath catches in his throat. He lightly traces the skin above the still sensitive ink. It was two foxes circling each other, Autumn leaves in a whirlwind surrounding them. “It’s beautiful darling.” “It’s supposed to symbolize us. And how we danced the first night we met.” Eris was speechless.

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wardenparker · 4 months

Text

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 1

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 14.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle* Not much for this chapter! Mostly fluff, a little flirting, and playful but on-point use of the term 'tramp stamp'. Summary: On a failed date at the local market, Marcus runs into an old friend and gets an invitation to visit. The beautiful inn and fantastic food were explicit in the invite -- but you are a complete surprise to him. Notes: Welcome, welcome, welcome my lovelies! As a girl who grew up on The West Wing and fosters an unapologetic love of all things romance, a story like this has been on my wish list to write for a very long time. I hope you're all ready for a cast of new characters and the grand appearance of Pedro's character from Graceland, because it's time for Marcus Pike to meet his soulmate! 🧡🧡🧡

There’s something about the hustle and bustle of D.C., that while it can invigorate someone and inspire them to live life as fast as possible, it can also drain them. At least, that’s what Marcus Pike has learned from the last three years of therapy. That and he’s prone to rushing into relationships, being in love with love, as Dr. Barnes would caution him.

It seems sometimes as if he’s unlucky in love, despite the universe providing a perfect match for him, he’s never found her. Always looking, but also being open to loving someone who doesn’t share marks or scars. Someone who just wants a stable and steady man to worship them and give them the world.

He hasn’t dated in almost three years. His therapist had advised him to focus on himself. To work through his emotions of a failed college marriage, a failed engagement. To make himself happy with who he is before introducing another person into the mix. He had thought that’s what he was doing, but apparently he had been wrong.

Finally feeling ready to date again, he had dipped his toes back in the water. Only to have it backfire tremendously. So much so, that he finds himself walking around the Eastern Market on his own. His idea of a farmer’s market casual date obviously not a good one, according to the woman who had tossed the drink he had bought her on the trash and stomped off, abandoning him to feel like a fool.

Smiling faces beam back at him from the covers of glossy gossip magazines, flashing headlines critiquing fashions worn to the recent inauguration ceremony and parties. The new president and her family wave from above the fold of newspapers — the happy family that Marcus himself doesn’t have. Ignoring the rude reminder, he wanders through the stalls and vendors of Eastern Market aimlessly until he reaches the family-owned sweet shop that he’s been coming to for years now. They know him, and like him, and his sweet tooth knows no bounds. There’s another man at the counter just before Marcus so he stands back, but Jenny waves hello from behind the counter. “Morning Marcus! Gimme one second and I’ll be right with you.” She says, turning back to the order marked Juan in her big, looping handwriting. “Six cannoli, right? Two pistachio, two double chocolate, and two cherry chocolate?”

“Right.” The man in a corduroy jacket with his short hair trimmed neatly nods. “Thanks, Jen. The girls are going to be over the moon.”

Another reminder of a life he craves. Marcus frowns slightly and tries to remember what his therapist has told him. Everyone moves at their own pace. Just because he’s not juggling two kids, a dog and a lovely wife with his workload doesn’t mean he’s failing. It just means he’s not met the right person, soulmate or not.

The other man pays for his order and turns to leave but stops dead in the middle of a cordial nod when he sees Marcus standing a few feet away. Sure he had heard Jenny say hi to someone…but he hadn’t looked. Now though? He huffs a laugh at the ghost of his past. “Pike?” They’d been mistaken as brothers — or for each other — so many times back at the Academy that it would be impossible not to recognize Marcus Pike.

“Badillo?” It’s amazing to see the other agent, although he had heard that he had left the Bureau after a friendly fire shooting. He looks good though, and Marcus cracks into the first real grin of the morning since being left high and dry. “What the hell? How are you doing, man?” He asks, coming in for a friendly hug while being mindful of the box in Juan’s hand.

“Good! Good. Errands.” Juan huffs, returning Marcus’s hug with equal surprise and affection. The men had been quite good friends at one time, more than a few years ago now. “Pregnant wife gets whatever pregnant wife wants, ya know?” He grins, bright and shining. “When did you get back to DC?”

“Pregnant wife, huh?” Despite the knife to his heart, Marcus paints on a grin, happy for his old friend. “Three years ago.” He shrugs slightly. “Heading up Art Crimes now. How about you? I heard you got out.” He lifts his eyebrows, allowing Juan to talk if he wants or brush it off if he doesn’t.

“I did.” Juan nods, knowing that various stories circulated after he left the Bureau. Most of them false. “Decided to take a little road trip vacation to clear my head and ended up meeting my soulmate in Yosemite on day two of the whole thing, and I followed her East.” He shrugs, ever the unapologetic romantic just like Marcus. They had had that in common. “How’s Lara?” He asks, remembering the woman that had been Mrs. Pike during their Academy days. Marcus had been over the moon for her. “Is she liking being back?”

Marcus grimaces a little and shrugs. “She’s, uh, we got divorced about ten years ago.” He tells him. “She found out she did have a soulmate.”

“Ah shit.” Blowing out a breath and shuffling his feet, Juan rubs the back of his neck self-consciously. “I’m sorry, man. That’s—there’s just no easy way to get through something like that.”

“It’s okay.” Marcus had loved Lara, but he wasn’t going to stand in the way of soulmates. It wouldn’t be right. “It was actually a very easy divorce; she hated hurting me. More than I can say for the last date, or last fiancée I’ve had.”

“Shit.” Juan huffs again, shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s eleven in the morning but I feel like I ought to be buying you a drink, man.” Hearing that someone as genuinely good as Marcus Pike is has had his heart bashed so often is a fucking bummer, and Juan chews on his lip for a second before his head tilts in that Universal signal of natural curiosity. “I’ve got time today. If you want to hang out? Catch up?” He offers, knowing that drinks will most likely come later if the two old friends spend the day getting back on the same page.

Marcus chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Do I look that dejected?” He asks, even though he’s not really looking for an answer. “I was supposed to be on a date, I figured a farmer’s market/brunch date would be easy enough and yet thoughtful, but I was ditched.” He snorts. “I have zero luck it seems.” He nods his head towards the cannoli. “But you can’t leave your pregnant wife waiting on those.”

“No, I can’t.” Sydney is waiting back at the restaurant with bated breath, he knows that, but he does offer Marcus a smile. “But she does run a restaurant, so you don’t have to be brunch-less unless you choose to be.”

“Yeah?” He perks up at the idea of trying out a new place, always loving brunch foods. “Where at? I might have to take a spin over there.”

“Her place is called Il Corvo.” It takes a second, but Juan digs a business card for the restaurant out of his jacket pocket and hands it over. “It’s the in-house restaurant at The Inn at Jones Point in Alexandria.” He reports proudly, always ready to brag about his soulmate’s amazing success. Running a restaurant is no small feat. “I know the card says the dining room opens at 4pm, but ignore that. She does brunch for guests at the inn and for special guests from time to time.”

“Are you sure?” Marcus frowns slightly. “I don’t want to impose.”

“It’s not imposing, trust me.” Knowing his wife as well as he does, Juan is more than certain she’ll be doting on Marcus in no time. “As long as you’re on board for Italian food, come by any time you want.”

“I’m out on the bike.” Marcus tells Juan, remembering how the other agent also loved to ride motorcycles. “I might swing by sometime. Normally go for rides on the weekend.”

"Anytime you want," Juan repeats, and he hopes Marcus understands how entirely he means it. "It's good to see you again, man."

“Good to see you too.” Marcus means that, smiling at the former agent. “Nice to see that you are okay.”

The two men part with a smile and a nod, and Juan hustles away to get his precious cargo back out to his soulmate. Maybe he'll pitch the idea of inviting Marcus to their next board game night if Sydney and her best friend don't mind the extra company. Not that they ever mind extra company.

Marcus doesn’t mean for it to be two weeks from the chance encounter with Juan before he steers his bike down the country, winding roads towards this inn that he had been told about. He had a case that required him to travel. Then it was reports and the never ending budget fiascos that new presidencies always bring, his boss wanting a new projections for the fiscal year for some reason.

Now though, he’s enjoying the scenery as the wind blows over his face and he leans into the curve, enjoying the small thrill that races up his spine from the inherent danger.

The winter has been mild so far and all the snow left behind by the storm the area had gotten while he was traveling has melted, making the ride an easy and calming one. He had intentionally driven a long route around Alexandria and the surrounding area, letting him arrive at his destination a little after noon on that cold, sunny Sunday. The inn is a large brick farmhouse, probably originally colonial but it looks like it was redone sometime during the Federalist architecture craze of the early 1800s. Now its clean white painted window frames and front porch are as welcoming as the pristinely kept front garden. The Inn at Jones Point proclaims a sign out front, which is accompanied by a smaller complimentary sign with an impressionist painted black bird that reads Il Corvo in an artistic script. There are cars in the lot with a plethora of states listed on their license plates, another motorcycle that he has to assume is Juan's, and a very government-issued-looking black car parked close to the building.

Marcus is enough of a romantic to fully appreciate the appeal of the property and more importantly, grounded enough to be able to appreciate it without having a partner here to enjoy it with. Since working with his therapist, he's spent a lot of the last three years 'dating himself'. Instead of waiting to make a date to try out a new restaurant, he goes by himself. Not limiting himself to new experiences with partners, he has found that he enjoys the hunt for the perfect spots to eat. The little Indian restaurant he had found is an absolute gem and he is looking forward to discovering a new little brunch spot. If this place is half as good as Juan says, he might make it a monthly habit while he can spend some time with his old friend.

Inside, the lobby of the inn is bustling. Guests sit in plush chairs with travel brochures or excitedly type on their phones. A family is gathered around a display of pamphlets for different travel experiences and tourist attraction. Another guest is hovering around the front desk, seemingly waiting for someone to return.

From the rooms off to the left, wave after wave of stunning smells wafts past Marcus as he looks around. A set of French doors stands open but the hostess stand for Il Corvo stands empty while a small number of diners sit inside, happily chattering over their meals. The scent of fresh coffee permeates everything else just a second before he can see why, as a woman in a blue silk shirt comes around the corner with two travel cups — presumably full of coffee — for the guest standing at the desk.

“Here we are, Mrs. Richards. Thank you for your patience, the pot was just finishing brewing. These will keep you nice and warm while you walk around Old Town.” Smiling as the woman walks away, your eyes survey the room and land on the new arrival with a touch of confusion. “Good afternoon,” you greet, in your typical sunshiny tone. This man isn’t a guest and you genuinely almost thought it was Juan for a second — even though you just saw Juan in the restaurant. “How can I help you today?”

“Hi— uh, I—” Marcus realizes he knows you. Your mother’s picture hangs on his office wall next to the current FBI director’s, and furthermore, it’s hard to not see the darling First Daughter in some news story – although it doesn’t seem like you enjoy the press. “Yeah, sorry, Juan said that brunch is served here?” He asks with an apologetic smile. “I’m Marcus, uh, Pike. We were in the Academy together and I ran into him a few weeks ago.”

You’re prettier than he ever imagined the pictures and news reels, your voice curling into his stomach pleasantly. In true, Marcus Pike fashion. He finds himself instantly intrigued by you.

“Oh, you’re Marcus!” As bright and cheery as you sound, something flips in your stomach and clenches at your chest and you swallow down the oh god he’s really hot impulse that you haven’t felt in…well, in years. This guy looks like someone took Juan and gave him broader shoulders and better hair, and put a little bit more James Dean in his style. “It’s really nice to meet you.” You introduce yourself, probably unnecessarily, but it’s good manners and keeps you from getting nervous or going off track. “Come on this way. Juan said you might be stopping by but he wasn’t sure when.”

“I’m sorry, should I have called first?” He asks, feeling guilty and slightly in the way. The last thing that he wants is to cause an imposition.

“Not at all.” You slip out from behind your desk and wave for him to follow you. “He’s been excited to introduce you to everybody.” The inn is a decent size, with the ground floor being public spaces and all the rooms upstairs being ready-made for guests except for the attic apartment, and you quickly lead the way through the rooms toward the restaurant kitchen.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve caught up.” Marcus admits. “We were close in the academy, most people through we were twins to be honest.” He chuckles slightly.

“I almost thought you were him when I saw you,” you admit, glad to know you aren’t alone in it. Juan had said they look alike but it really is extreme. “Here we are.” Humming as you push open the door to the restaurant’s bar, you huff a soft laugh when a woman slightly taller than you with masses of curls in a tight bun at the nape of her neck in a black suit sidesteps the pair of you and opens the kitchen door to look inside before letting you in. “Thank you, Agent Bailey.” As odd as it is to have constant supervision like this, you’re doing your best to be patient and understanding with it. “Come on into the kitchen,” you offer to Marcus. “Brunch is almost over and this is where Juan sits when he hangs out.”

“Really? The inner sanctum already?” The tone is joking, but Marcus knows that for a lot of chefs, the kitchen is their sacred place. He wouldn’t know, because his kitchen is used to make coffee, but he’s had a few relationships with amateur gourmet cooks.

“Marcus!” There’s no question that this is where he’s supposed to be, when Juan is waving from a corner of the kitchen and immediately zips over to say hello. “How are you, man? Good to see you!”

“Hey.” He grins when he sees the other man, obviously happier here than any time in the Bureau and he’s happy for him. He seems like a completely different man, just from the quick glance. Perhaps it’s the fact that he found his soulmate. “Sorry it’s been a few weeks. Got caught up on a case.”

“I completely get it,” he assures his friend. “It’s been kind of crazy around here anyway. Weddings booked every single weekend and the restaurant stuffed full with reservations.” He beams, proud as a peacock, and waves slightly as you disappear back out through the bar to return to your counter. The inn is full up with last night’s wedding party and you have your hands full. “I want you to meet my wife,” Juan says, clapping Marcus in the shoulder and pulling him further into the kitchen.

There are only two people cooking right now and they are both winding down. Enough that the petite woman with tied-up hair and a look of intense concentration on her face can look up and smile. “I hear you talking about me,” she warns with a laugh.

“Syd, this is Marcus Pike.” Juan introduces, bringing his friend out in front of him. “Marcus, this is Sydney. The gorgeous goddess the universe decided to grace me with.”

“Nice to meet you.” Again that pesky pang of longing lurches inside Marcus but he throws her a smile and takes her hand after she offers it immediately. “I’ve only heard angelic things about you, so rest assured, he’s not talking ill.”

“He’s does nothing but tell stories about you since you guys ran into each other at Eastern Market.” Sydney tells him honestly. “Can I make you something to eat?”

“I was hoping to experience the brunch option that Juan was bragging about.” Marcus admits as he glances around, admiring the state of the art kitchen. “Didn’t expect to see this from the historical facade.” He admits. “It’s charming though.” He adds, hoping that neither one of you take offense.

"Charming is her specialty." Sydney points her thumb in the direction of the door, indicating the main lobby of the inn. "We took over running this place about three years ago now. The previous owners weren't able to keep up anymore so they sold to her and we updated the restaurant. Modern Italian dinners and brunch for the inn's guests. It's a big step up from the B&B that this place used to be." Grinning proudly, Sydney moves over to the nearest counter and plops a paper menu down at the stool beside her husband. "What would you like?"

Marcus looks at the menu and lifts a brow, impressed by the sophisticated menu. This isn’t some little spaghetti shop that pretends to be Italian. “It’s been so long since I’ve had good Uova in Purgatorio.” He moans. “Since the last time I was in Naples.” He clicks his tongue. “But I want to try the ricotta pancakes too.”

"Then you will get both," Sydney insists, clicking her tongue and getting to work. "A G-man in Naples, huh?" She barely glances up from her work as she moves. "Art crimes must be the fancy branch of the Bureau."

“I work on international cases with Interpol and Scotland Yard.” He explains as he sits down and admires the fluidity of her movements in the kitchen. She’s completely at home in her space and it’s evident she’s in command. He’s slightly envious of her comfort in a kitchen, if he’s honest.

"Oh, so it definitely is the fancy branch." She laughs. Juan hops up from his seat to grab coffee for himself and Marcus, brushing a kiss on her cheek as he moves past, and the other woman who had been cooking moves away to the other end of the room to work on cleaning up from the brunch rush.

"Fancy branch of what?" The kitchen door swings open again and you come strolling back inside looking infinitely more tired than you had just a few minutes ago but still in a generally good mood. "The wedding party is finally gone. I am officially taking my break."

Marcus stares at you for a moment and then looks down at his hands, feeling like he might be bragging if he were to tell you what they’ve been talking about. There’s something about you that is knocking him off kilter, he’s normally a little more confident than this.

"Art crimes is swanky, apparently." Sydney tells you, never stopping or slowing as she moves around like a controlled whirlwind. "Eggs in purgatory and ricotta pancakes for your brunch? I'll make up a big batch." They're two of your favourite things anyway and it's easy enough to just make a double serving of each when she knows that your break time is always mealtime.

"That sounds incredible," you moan in agreement, making a beeline for the industrial refrigerator in the corner of the room to make yourself an iced latte that is far more espresso than milk. A generous swirl of flavored syrup joins your cup before you plop down on the edge of the counter and sip your drink with a happy sigh. Normally people exclaim over you when they realize they recognize you but Marcus Pike hasn't said a word — and you wonder if he doesn't recognize you from the papers or if you even care. It's nice to not have someone make a fuss for once. To just be nice and not suck up to you for being the President's oldest child.

“Weddings take it out of you, huh?” Marcus asks, smirking a little at the drink in your hand, although it looks delicious. “Or were they just demanding?”

"It was a big party. Very specific needs." Sipping your drink and finally sitting is immediately relaxing, and you're always ready to meet new people. Especially when they're someone that your best friend's husband speaks of so highly. "Nothing I can't handle, but weddings are always tricky. It's the most important day of at least one person's life, so you always want to try to make it as perfect for them as you can. Thankfully," you gesture around you. "I have an incredible team. Syd is the best Italian chef in the Chesapeake Bay and Juanito is an incredible event coordinator."

Marcus snorts and cuts his eyes over at Badillo. “He always did have an eye for details.” He admits, snickering at the nickname you’ve bestowed on the former federal agent. “Although it’s surprising that it’s manifested in wedding planning.” He teases playfully.

"Event planning," Juan clarifies, but he's grinning regardless. "We host a lot here. Weddings, anniversaries, holiday parties, all kinds of personal events. I get to put my organizational mind to work on it. It's actually pretty rewarding."

"Don't let him sell himself short. Juan plans a hell of a wedding." There is pride on your face, pride for your friend and in your work "We've gotten written up in a bunch of bridal magazines and on websites the last few years."

“Good job, Juanito.” If there’s anything that Marcus enjoyed more than the courses in the academy, it was busting his friend’s balls. All in good fun of course, he had taken his share of ribbing as well. It was par for the course. “That sounds like a hell of a job, making people happy and sharing in their special moments.”

"We do our best." Juan will never take the credit for himself, always attributing the effort to the team as a whole. This time, though, he flashes a knowing grin at you. "Although the next one we plan might be a hell of a lot bigger than what we do here."

“Oh?” Marcus asks, turning towards you. “Are you getting married soon?” His eyes drop discreetly to your hand and he tries to remember what he’s read about you but for some reason, he’s drawing a blank.

“No, Juan just likes to tease.” You shake it off with a roll of your eyes, knowing that — unfortunately — your friend is completely right. If or when it does happen, it will be a damn circus. “It’s this…guy that I met last year, and it’s been really good and he really took all the stress of the last year in stride, and these two love to tease.” In truth, you’ve been intentionally moving forward slowly with the junior Congressman from Maryland that you met at a campaign event you attended with your mother last year. Sam is a good guy and has big ideas for the future. It’s just that you normally dive into relationships so fast and so deep that your heart does all the talking before your mind can catch up. And now that you’re a public figure, you can’t afford to have that happen again. “I’m perfectly content to watch other people have their big days for now.”

“I can imagine that it’s hard to have a relationship right now.” He sympathizes. “The press either treats you like a darling celebrity or some kind of public spectacle, right?” He asks, curious as to your view on the entire thing. Personally, he hated the idea of politics taking on a celebrity flare and you aren’t on politics, your mother is.

“I’m honestly lucky that my younger siblings take some of the focus,” you admit. So he did recognize you. It’s nice that he didn’t fuss. You’re grateful for that. “My brother is in law school and my sister is in undergrad and they’re both living in the White House while they study but…yeah. We all agreed to give up our privacy for a while so Mom can do some good work. That means relationships aren’t easy right now.”

“It’s good you had a choice.” Marcus admits. “Sometimes I watch the campaigns for some of the politicians and it’s obvious the family would rather be anywhere else and are putting on a facade.” He shrugs, not wanting to delve too deep into a subject you probably are uncomfortable with. “Nice that you don’t have too much interference here, except for the Secret Service agent.”

"Agent Bailey's okay." In fact, she's sitting outside the kitchen door right now, giving you a bit of space and privacy to try to pretend you still have a halfway normal life. "We're still getting used to each other. I had somebody else during the campaign, but she's been assigned to my sister now. It all works out in the end." Smiling, you take another sip of your coffee and wonder why your stomach is fluttering over this very kind man who has been introduced into your lives very much by chance. It's...unsettling. To say the very least. "But that's plenty about me. How about you, Special Agent Marcus Pike? Where're you from? How are you liking Art Crimes?" You grin, throwing him a mischievous expression. "Who'd you vote for, for president?"

Marcus laughs, a real laugh that comes from his belly and he relaxes. “Let’s see…I’m from the great state of Texas - Go Rangers.” He ticks off. “I love Art Crimes, especially when we can recover sentimental pieces and keep “collectors”,” he uses air quotes, “from locking away art from being enjoyed by all.” He grins at your last question. “And my momma told me never to discuss politics or religion in social settings….but….my candidate is currently hanging on my office wall.”

"Rangers, huh?" Glossing over the not insignificant tidbit that he did, in fact, vote for your mother, you find yourself thoroughly enjoying getting to know this friend of your friend. It's usually not this easy to click with a new acquaintance, although you've become an expert at seeming interested just to be polite. That doesn't seem to be necessary at all with this man. "When we get our Phillies/Rangers series this year we'll have to come up with a bet of some kind."

“It’s gonna be a losing bet on your end.” Marcus predicts. “We’ve got Darío Álvarez and then Elvis Andrus is going to continue stealing bases.”

"Oh thank god," Sydney huffs, flipping ricotta pancakes on her griddle top and grinning as she throws you a wink. "She's finally got someone else to drag to baseball games. I'm free!"

"My alleged best friend," you smirk and decide to tease her back. "And her husband are both hockey people. So I'm generally either stuck watching the game on my own or dragging Syd along with promises of beer and ballpark dogs."

“Nationals aren’t my favorite team. Since they are National League.” Marcus smirks. “But I have season tickets since it’s too expensive to fly back to Texas for every game.”

It would be bragging to admit that you've been asked to throw the first ball out at the Nationals opening game this season as the most vocally baseball-loving member of the new First Family, so you just smile. You know it can feel like a big sacrifice to leave something about home behind. "Maybe I'll see you there," you offer instead. "The Nationals aren't my team either, but the game are pretty fun."

“Oh they always are.” He admits wholeheartedly. “Plus the Navy Yard is close so it’s always interesting.”

"Heeeeere we go." Onto the counter in front of you, Sydney heaps four plates of food – making each of you identical breakfasts. "The fruit compote for the pancakes right now is cranberry lemon. And I threw a little extra chili into the sauce for the eggs." She grins. "Some folks who stay at the inn say it's too spicy but it's how we like it," she tells Marcus.

Marcus chuckles and Juan snorts, hooking his fingers towards the agent. “This man ate his way through a five alarm chili contest and didn’t even touch his beer.” He boasts to the two of you. “If it’s not spicy, I don’t want it.” Marcus confirms with a grin. “Thank you. It smells amazing.”

"Then next time you're getting Calabrian chili instead of just the wimpy flakes." Sydney promises with glee. "That's how our girl likes it, but that's too much even for me most of the time. I have to be in the mood for it."

“You like spicy?” He asks, smirking towards you. “How do you feel about the Indian food around here?”

"There's a place in DuPont Circle that is probably the best Indian food I've ever had in my entire life." Even as you're getting ready to dig into your best friend's comfort Italian fare, your mouth starts watering thinking of curries and dal. "The kind of place where they don't make it really spicy until you've been there a couple of times and they know you can handle it. I swear I've eaten there more than I've cooked my own food since moving out here."

“Rasika’s?” Marcus groans, nodding. “I love that place. They make the best curry I’ve ever eaten in my life. I’m sweating, but I never tell them to bring me the yogurt sauce.”

"If you don't sweat while you're eating there, you're doing it wrong." It's a slight point of contention with Sam, who generally considers mustard to be too spicy most of the time, but you ignore the side eye you're getting from Sydney and dig in to your brunch. Having come in early today, this is halfway through your shift and you're going to be excited to head upstairs to your little attic caretaker's apartment when the time comes this afternoon. "Mmmmm," you groan happily and do a little wiggle in your seat unconsciously. "Syd, I swear. If you hadn't already married Juan, I'd marry you for your brunch."

Marcus takes that as the best kind of advertisement and cuts into his own meal to fork up a bite of the eggs. “Christ.” He groans as soon as the flavors hit his mouth. “That’s amazing.”

"I told you," Juan boasts, sitting up in his seat a little taller with pride for his soulmate. "She's amazing."

“You weren’t kidding.” Marcus huffs, taking another bite. “If this got out, you could run on brunch alone.”

"We're considering offering an incentive package for events." Starting to clean up, Syd watches the two of you eat while she wraps the kitchen up from brunch to get everything prepared for dinner service. "Wedding brunches are coming back in fashion, but a lot of people are wanting to do morning after brunches for their families before everyone goes their separate ways."

“I can see that.” Marcus nods. “Lara and I had a lunch thing before we all said goodbye, but that was casual.”

"Your wife?" You guess, struggling to remember if Juan had mentioned that his friend was married. He's not wearing a ring, but some men don't — a habit that generally rubs you the wrong way because those men are always the ones who basically want their wives to walk around wearing a giant 'I'm married' sign but will never show any outward signs of commitment themselves.

Marcus gives a small shrug and smiles self-consciously. “Ex-wife.” He admits, knowing that soon enough the pitying looks will start. “We divorced a while ago.”

Sydney clicks her tongue, having remembered that fact, and says nothing more. You, though? For some reason you can't help yourself. Something about Marcus Pike compels you to offer comfort in whatever way you can. "If you ever find another Mrs. Pike, you let us know. We've got you covered."

Marcus chuckles. “So far, that search has been in vain.” He admits. “Apparently it’s not in the cards for me.”

"She's out there." Juan offers with confidence. "If I remember correctly, you've even got a couple of tattoos to prove it."

Marcus rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I do.” He snorts. “If I ever find her, I want to know why there is a hummingbird tramp stamp on my lower back.” He laughs. “I get why, but why???? Why a hummingbird?”

A glare of questioning moves soundlessly between you and your best friend — the perpetually meddling woman who sat next to you when you were eighteen and challenged you to answer trivia questions while you had your own hummingbird tramp stamp inked onto your skin in celebration of your high school graduation. "Oh yeah?" She asks, raising an eyebrow at you while you furious try to communicate with nothing more than wide eyes that you do not want her to ask what she's about to ask. "What kind of hummingbird? How trashy are we talking?"

“It’s not exactly trashy.” Marcus defends. “It’s actually a pretty blue and green.“

"Interesting." Sydney hums, practically giggling with glee as she cleans up the kitchen and you bury your face in your meal like it will help you escape the entire conversation. "Maybe hummingbirds are her favourite bird?"

I'm going to kill you in your sleep says the glare you send your best friend's way.

“Totally trashed my punk rock image.” He laughs. “Although I didn’t think of that at the time. Thinking I’m this hardcore next Kurt Cobain rocker and I’ve got a hummingbird tattoo on my lower back.” He snorts, shrugging slightly. “But it’s always been a question I’ve wanted to ask. What made her choose that? What’s special about it to her?”

"Hummingbirds symbolize love and devotion," you murmur next to him, not quite looking up and wondering if the world is really turning on its ear right now or if it's just that you've been thrown off kilter by the possibilities. It's not like you're the only girl in the world with a hummingbird tattoo, after all. Far from it. "And they're supposed to be good luck."

“I like that.” Marcus hums softly. “It’s wistful, hopeful.” There could be a thousand different reasons why his soulmate chose that symbol to etch on her body and in turn, his, but he would rather it be a loving sign. You aren’t looking at him, and miss the small smile he throws you. “Poetic.”

"So she's gotta be out there somewhere." Sydney needles the point a little bit, sounding breezy as hell but just about ready to pounce on any clues Marcus offers up. "Maybe a hopeless romantic with a stubborn streak and an encyclopedic knowledge of Lost Generation authors and impressionist painters?" She shrugs like she's just pulled the example out of thin air. "Who knows?"

Throwing Juan a look, Marcus smirks. “Sounds like your husband has been talking about favorite kind of woman.” He jokes, although he’s pretty sure that he would love it if his soulmate turned out to be just that. “I just want to have someone that wants to be build a lift together. A partner.” He shrugs. “Most people think that it’s crazy, but I think that your significant other should be your best friend and your lover.”

"Absolutely crazy." With as clearly sarcastic a tone as she can possibly muster, Sydney practically deadpans in Marcus's direction. "So weird. How dare you want to spend your life with someone you loves you as much as you love them?" Every single thing she's described has been about you, and while neither of the guys are picking up on that for even a single second, the fact that you have your head down over your plate means you're reading her loud and clear. "I bet your dream girl will even have a thing for your old rockstar days," she goes on, as if she's stringing out a hypothetical and not explicitly describing your opinion that musicians are sexy as hell. "Don't tell me. You were a bassist, right?"

“And vocals.” He admits, shaking his head ruefully. “It’s alright if she doesn’t like that. God, it’s been years since I’ve picked up my bass.” He realizes. “I should do that. Between the bass or the motorcycle, I just spent more time on the bike.”

Bass. Vocals. And motorcycle? You practically groan out loud but barely manage to swallow the sound and instead hop up from your seat immediately to hopefully combine the noise you just made with all manner of other commotion. "Just grabbing another drink," you explain, when all three of their heads turn toward you at once. "You, uh...you should do what makes you happy, Marcus. If that's not overstepping things for me to say. We just met today. But I've always heard that the best things in life tend to fall into your lap when you're not looking for them. So maybe just...enjoy yourself? And who knows what can happen."

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do.” Marcus admits. “My therapist agrees with you. That we need to enjoy ourselves and not just search.”

"Our therapists agree with each other, then," you admit with a chuckle. "I started seeing someone when Mom decided to run for president. I figured it would be good to have someone to check in with and make sure I was handling my stressors in a healthy way." The conversations you had had with them about whether or not to factor your soulmate into future plans when you had never met them were slightly less straightforward.

“That’s always a good thing.” He nods quickly. “I’ve never been one to think that therapists are a waste of time.” He shrugs. “My mom was a therapist all my childhood.”

"It's an incredibly important profession. And an incredibly important resource to have." Seeing as Marcus's mug was empty as well, you bring back two glasses of water to the counter and sit down again, hoping that Sydney won't keep pushing. Or at least that she won't reveal things if she does. "My little sister is a psychology major. She's thinking about medical school next, and talking about different paths she might taken with her studies. Therapist being one of them."

“It’s a good profession.” Marcus admits easily. “Just- let her know, most therapists have their own therapists they see. It’s draining to take on everyone’s secrets and burdens, trying to do the best you can to give them the tools to help themselves. So tell her that there’s no shame in that.”

"I will." It isn't worth negating the kindness of Marcus's thoughts and advice by telling him that all three of the First Kids started therapy at the start of the campaign. It's the care he has for other people — people he has never met and may never meet ever in his life, that touches you so very deeply. "Thank you, Marcus. That's very kind of you."

He nods and picks up the glass of water, needing to wash down the remnants of the eggs before starting on the pancakes. “So, Juan, how did you and your lovely wife discover you were soulmates?” He asks curiously.

"Uhm..." Juan chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck and looking to Sydney for her permission to tell the story.

"Go ahead," she laughs. "I've go to start dinner prep. Tell him as much as you want."

"It's not exactly PG," he admits, still laughing softly to himself. "The polite version is that we compared tattoos."

Marcus isn’t the head of his department because he’s dimwitted. “One night stand?” He asks, lifting his brows in surprise. It wasn’t like he had never had them himself, but both men had preferred to be in relationships rather than sleep around. Not that he’s judging.

“I was willing to take whatever that goddess was willing to give me,” Juan admits without shame. “One night would have been a memory to cherish. But the universe said it should be a lifetime, instead.”

“I’m happy for you.” Marcus promises with a slap on the back for his old friend. “You deserve it. Glad you found her.”

“You say that now.” His friend smiles happily though, beaming at the commendation. “But now it’s going to be my mission to find you that girl with the hummingbird tattoo.”

Marcus smiles, a little sadly, but he just shrugs. “I’ll find her when I’m supposed to.” He reasons. “Knowing my luck, she’s happily married.”

“Not as happily as she would be with you.” He’s confident in that, and Juan looks to you to bolster his encouragements. “How could anybody not be ecstatic to have a guy this good, right?”

It feels rude. Like a trick from the universe that you do not like one bit. Like the powers that be are rubbing your nose in your defiance of their plans. “They’d have to be blind.” You offer, with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Sam is a good guy. He’s been a good boyfriend and has made you happy. Why are you suddenly thinking about someone else after an hour of knowing them? That’s utterly ridiculous. “You…never really know how the universe is going to have things work out.”

She’s just being polite. Marcus realizes that when he sees your smile, his stomach churning unhappily. It doesn’t matter, you’re seeing someone. A woman in a relationship has always been off limits to him. He doesn’t like, nor respect cheaters and yet he’s upset that you don’t seem that attracted to him. Or, you’re reluctantly attracted to him. He stares down at his pancakes and sighs. “All that matters to me if that my soulmate is happy.” He decides.

Juan and Marcus talk about this and that for the next few minutes, but you quickly finish your pancakes and excuse yourself. It was very nice to meet Marcus, and you tell him so, but you’re a little rattled by the possibility that was just laid out in front of you and you need a few deep breaths of fresh air before your break is over and you have to go back to solving guest’s dilemmas.

Juan doesn’t miss the way Marcus’s eyes follow you out of the room and he smirks. “Thinkin’ about it?” He asks, knowing you are the other man’s type.

“No.” He shakes his head quickly. “I mean, I would if she were single, but she’s not.” Deciding to change the subject, he leans in. “Did they heighten security here, or just the one agent?”

“Updated cameras and increased security personnel. We turned the spare office into a surveillance room but her Secret Service detail doesn’t butt in on anything they don’t need to.” Juan shrugs, knowing that things always change over time. “So far.”

That’s good and Marcus nods. “Sounds like you might have had some input.” He knows that Juan is very analytical, he would know what the weakness were in a place like this.

Juan snorts, taking a sip of his drink and shrugging vaguely. "My wife's childhood best friend is the First Daughter of the United States. If I can help her be safe, I'm going to."

“I can certainly understand that.” Marcus admits.

"It's a good system." Juan acknowledges. "She always has a detail agent nearby and the place needs the security because we've gotten a hell of a lot busier since the campaign last year."

“I’m sure.” Marcus snorts. “Everyone wants to claim they have some insider pull.” He says, a little cynical, but he looks around. “And I’m sure a lot of it is the fact that this place is a little gem.”

"272-year-old farmhouse with restored gardens and a barn and a gazebo from 1823. The place has had so many owners and been used for so many things." It's clear that Juan has nothing but affection for the place, and that he really has leaned into a fully civilian life. "I'm glad you came out to say hi," he tells Marcus honestly. "Hopefully we'll see more of you around here."

“With food like this?” Marcus groans, throwing his buddy a grin. “Those are the best damn pancakes that I’ve eaten in forever.”

"And considering you're a certified pancake expert, that says something." Juan chuckles. When Marcus hadn't shown up for a few weeks he was afraid that maybe he had said something wrong or that his old friend had moved on from the comradery they used to have, Apparently, neither was the case.

“Still love pancakes. It’s finding the time to eat them, that’s the problem.” He snorts. “It’s getting better now that I run the department, but after I ran into you? I was flying out two days later.”

"Sounds like you earned a day to relax." Sounds like he earned a lot more than just one day, but Juan knows how the Bureau works. A single day can sometimes be a miracle to come by. "There's books and board games in the library if you want to stay and spend some time relaxing."

“What do you have going on?” Marcus asks, tilting his head curiously.

“It’s…board game night.” As silly and domestic as it sounds, it’s a nice tradition that they’ve managed to keep going among friends. “Every month we have a group of friends over and we do a potluck for dinner. Just to unwind and be social. Just catch up, eat some good food, and play board games. You’re more than welcome to join us.”

“I don’t want to impose.” Marcus shakes his head, wondering if he’s so desperate that it sounds like great evening or if it just really was.

“It’s not imposing,” Juan assured him. “We bring new friends all the time. There’s about six of us usually, so it fluctuates depending on how many other people we bring or if someone can’t make it.”

“Well, is there a store or something?” He asks. “I can pick up some wine or something to contribute.”

“Old Town has some good liquor stores.” The historic district of Alexandria has become increasingly popular in the last several years, and the revitalization of the neighborhood has helped the inn as well.

“Anything else you could possibly want?” Marcus asks seriously. He’s willing to go get anything that could be thought of, the prospect of not spending the night alone incredibly cheering.

“Get whatever you want,” Juan encourages. “Every once in a while someone will show up with something they’ve never tried just try to it together. So really — anything you want.”

“Okay.” Marcus grins, excited about this and reaches out to slap Juan on the back. “Do you still ride bikes or have you given that up?”

"Hell no." Juan tuts, glad to see the smile back on Marcus's face. "My Indian is back at our house. We take rides when we've got time off together."

“That’s good. Although the rides have taken a pause since the pregnancy, right?” Marcus asks. “I can’t imagine a doctor signing off on a pregnant woman on the back of a bike.”

“Yeah…these days we take rides in the station wagon.” He chuckles at that, and Juan knows how ridiculously domestic it sounds but he really doesn’t care. He’s in love with his life in a very unexpected way, and that’s okay. “It’ll be nice to have someone to ride with again.”

“I can imagine.” Marcus is missing that, but on the bright side, he rides when and where he wants. “Do you guys know what you’re having yet?” He asks.

“Not yet.” Juan is excited, though, as evidenced by the way he lights up when asked about it. “It’s still too early to find out. Obviously we don’t care, as long as they’re healthy and happy.”

“Congrats, man, you’re living the dream, you know that?” As envious as he can admit to being, he’s also incredibly happy for Juan. “You deserve it. Especially after, you know…”

“Life is totally different now.” Leaving the Bureau is what was best for Juan. He knows that now, even if it was a painful decision to make back then. “I’m not going to ever downplay the things in my past, but the future is looking pretty fucking good, man.”

Completely understanding the fact that Juan doesn’t want to talk, he nods. “I’m happy for you. Truly.”

“I appreciate that, man.” Juan grins and pats Marcus on the shoulder. “Enjoy some time in town and come on back here around seven tonight. Syd isn’t working the dinner rush tonight so we’ll all be able to relax.”

“That sounds good.” The comfortable jeans and a sweater will still look sharp enough for game night and he sends his friend a smile before he walks out of the kitchen.

Things have calmed down in the lobby when you return to the front desk to pick up a few papers and check in on your concierge before retreating into your office for the rest of your shift. The inn may have calmed down but you're still spinning wildly on the idea that your soulmate might have walked through the door of the inn this morning with absolutely no fanfare and a nervous smile on his incredibly handsome face.

Nope. Stop it. Sam is coming for board game night tonight and you really fucking like him. Don't give up your whole stance on freedom of happiness just because some absolutely dishy FBI agent has your tattoo.

"Everything going okay, Malachi?" You will be professional, and not a blithering mass of nervous energy. Even if it takes all the energy you have to force it.

“Everything’s fantastic, we had another couple call to book a room for next weekend. So we officially will have no vacancies.” He reports proudly, like he had recruited the couple himself.

"Good. That's actually excellent. That means we have no vacancies at any point for two week on either side of Valentine's Day unless someone cancels." It's always possible. After all, break up happen around that particular holiday. But with the way they've been booking rooms lately, they should be able to fill a hole more easily than not. "I'm going to go to my office and work on the schedule. If you need me, just call."

“Of course.” Malachi cranes his neck as that handsome guy walks out to a beautiful motorcycle. “But before you go.” He hums. “Who is that?”

You can't help but chuckle, your concierge's obvious interest making you recognize the ridiculousness of the whole situation all over again. "That's Juan's friend," you tell him, gathering up your paperwork. "He'll be around more, and he's allowed into the kitchen. So you know he's special."

“And does Juan’s friend have a name?” He asks, smirking slightly.

"Special Agent Marcus Pike." You smirk right back at him, giving Marcus's title along with his name. By now Agent Bailey has probably done an entire workup on the agent. Why wouldn't she?

“Special Agent.” Because it’s the two of you and there’s no guest around, Malachi watches out the window with unabashed interest. “He can mount me like he mounts that bike any time.”

"Mal!" There's no reason for you to be taken aback by that comment considering how well you know Malachi Debose, but you still find yourself stifling a laugh with wide eyes. You tell yourself to joke, ignoring the twist in your chest at the idea of Marcus with anyone else. It's not up to you. He's his own person. And he might not even be your soulmate to begin with! "I'm pretty sure he's straight, honey, but you never know. It would not be the first guy you've swept out of the closet who didn't even realize they were in there in the first place."

He sighs dramatically, even though he’s smirking proudly. “You’re right.” He admits. “We’ll see how mister Special Agent Marcus Pike acts and then I’ll decide.”

"Behave yourself." Is the playful warning you give him before turning and nodding to Agent Bailey. "Time to sit in the office while I swear at my computer," you tell her. As the Secret Service agent who is with you most of the time, Kendra Bailey has learned your past, your friends, your job, and your habits like a book. She appreciates that you're not throwing yourself into politics because it means her days are a little calmer than they could be, but the coming and going of all sorts of people through the inn on a daily basis presents its own challenges.

She nods, already curious about the FBI agent that she’s encountered here. It’s not unusual to run background checks on people who continuously hang around the inn, and it sounds like he will become a fixture for the foreseeable future. “Of course, Hummingbird.”

You groan softly, realizing that that is going to get said around Marcus Pike at some point or other, and just try to shake it off for now. "You can call me by my name around here, you know." She won't. You've had this conversation more than once, but sometimes you think you'll never get used to being ma'am or Hummingbird at all times to your Secret Service detail.

“Yes ma’am.” She nods, both of you aware that she’s not going to break protocol like that. Instead, she’s turning to the chair that has been placed outside your office, tucked into a discreet corner so it’s not completely obvious that you are being guarded. Giving you the illusion of privacy.

"Someday I'm going to get you to at least come into the office." There are rules. A hell of a lot of them, in fact, and you know that they exist for a reason. But Agent Bailey is allowed to be in your office with you, and you hope it won't take your mother's entire first term in office for her to get comfortable enough with you to do that.

“I understand that, but if I’m in your office, you won’t concentrate.” She reminds you with a small, unseen smile. The first time you had insisted, you hadn’t gotten anything done.

"Too social for my own good, I guess." With a small smile exchanged between the two of you, you nod in agreement before heading down the hall to your office. She's right, and you both know it.

Outside, a snazzy sports car pulls up. Not too flashy, because a junior congressman from Maryland can’t be seen throwing money away frivolously, but sporty enough to make him grin as he changes gears. The door pops open, sunglasses tossed on the dash and Sam hustles out of his car, eager to see you.

"Hey Sam." Malachi looks up from the desk when the door opens and offers up a smile. Professional, but friendly. So far, Congressman Chase hasn't done anything to warrant the cold shoulder. "Is she expecting you?"

“Not until later, but I was hoping to surprise her.” He admits, sending the concierge a wink. “She in her office?”

"Just went in to work on the schedule." Malachi reports, but his smile morphs from professional to earnest in half a second. "The new software is giving her a headache and a half. I bet coming in with a cup of coffee with also be a welcome surprise."

“You are a good man, Malachi.” Sam slaps the antique reception stand and grins. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” He lifts his brows and points at him as he changes directions to the kitchen to beg a cup of coffee from Sydney.

A knock on the kitchen door is odd but not unheard of, and Sydney glances back over her shoulder when the swinging door pushes open to admit the six-foot Congressman she now affectionately calls, "Sam Sam! As happy as I am to see you, your lady friend is not in the kitchen."

“I know.” Sam tosses the chef an easy grin. “A little birdie told me that she might appreciate a cup of coffee, so I’m here to be her runner.”

Sydney smirks, never ceasing in her work but nodding to the coffee pot in the corner of the kitchen. “Go right ahead. I’m sure she’ll be grateful.”

“Thank you.” He immediately beelines for the coffee maker, intent on also making himself a cup. Though he would prefer a cocktail. “It smells great in here, like always.” He tosses over his shoulder.

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” She hums happily in return. “I made a lasagna for game night. Are you staying?”

“Unless an emergency session is call.” Sam snorts. “And you know half those crusty old bastards don’t want to work.” He adds some creamer and sweetener to his, doctors yours and turns back. “Is this the lasagna with the pancetta?” He asks, giving her a pleading look.

“It is, and I did a little something different with the ricotta layer this time, so you’ll have to tell me what you think.” One hand shoos him playfully away, but she does laugh. “I’ll feed you later. Go see your lady.”

“Thank you!” He laughs as well, zipping out the door to head in to see you. Hopefully you aren’t working on anything too important that you can’t steal away some time for him.

Two short knocks on your door could be anyone, but you save your progress in working on next week’s schedule and call for them to come in. It’s probably Malachi with a guest accommodation question, which is no problem. You can hit pause on scheduling the housekeeping staff around their various class schedules to answer just about anything.

After getting the okay to enter, Sam juggles the cups and pokes his head in the door. “Can you spare a few minutes, beautiful?” He asks.

The grin that spreads on your face is surprise and relief, and you hop up from your dream to open the door fully. “If that’s coffee in your hands, I can spare more than just a few.”

“Of course it is, fixed just the way you like it.” While he doesn’t drink it nearly as sweet as you do, he also doesn’t make fun of you for it.

“To what do I owe the early visit?” The door clicks shut behind him and you sit back in your chair with a happy sigh.

“We let out early.” Sam explains. “Figured we could spend some time together .”

“I’m always glad to see you.” It’s true. It genuinely is. Which is why you hate the nagging guilt of the fact that you had just been telling yourself to stop speculating about your possible soulmate and focus on work.

“That’s a good thing.” Despite the idea that dating the First Daughter was good for his career, Sam genuinely cares for you. It might not be the passionate love he had imagined years ago, but he’s mature enough to understand that a solid connection was a good thing.

“So your meeting went alright?” The committee that he’s on had an unofficial lunch meeting today, which must have gone well if he’s already here saying hello. “I was afraid they’d have you all day and you’d miss out in lasagna and the new Clue game that Sydney’s sister picked up.”

“No.” Sam snorts. “They wanted it done as quickly as possible.” He tells you. “I’ve got to admit that I’ve never seen people that hate to work more than politicians.”

“Well that’s hardly encouraging,” you snort, and shake your head before taking a sip of hot coffee. “I guess you’ll just have to whip them into shape, Congressman. No two ways about it.”

“I’m trying.” He laughs and shrugs. “Right now I equate it to herding cats.” He jokes, sitting down on the other side of your desk and watching you for a moment while you savor your coffee.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever called a member of the House of Representatives.” The two of you share a laugh, and you shift in your seat a little with an awkward expression before talking again. “I…got an email this morning. From Mom’s office. Informing me of my first few expected photo ops as First Daughter.” It’s a big part of the job, for you at least, to look the part and play the part and help the country to see your mother as not just the president, but a family-oriented professional as well. Being the first female President has its challenges and your mother is plowing into them head on. Which, honestly? You give her a lot of credit for. “They asked if I would be willing to release some social media photos from our Valentine’s date…” The fact that you hadn’t planned one yet is slightly beyond the point. Now you pretty much have to.

“Well, what kind of pictures would you like?” Sam asks easily, aware that you don’t relish the attention, but it’s part of the job. “We can do a dinner at home, appeal to the base of Americans.” He suggests.

“I don’t love the idea of someone recognizing an aspect of your house or neighborhood and you getting doxed for it,” you admit ruefully. It would have to be Sam’s house, since you don’t actually have one. You can’t exactly put out photos of your attic apartment and expect the White House press core not to make noises. “I was thinking we could put the spotlight on a minority-owned small business or go to some low-key arts event? If they’re going to ask me to be in the spotlight then I want to use it for good.”

“Do you want to decide?” He asks, aware that you can be quite choosy at times. He doesn’t really mind. “Or do you want me to come up with something?”

“It’s probably easier if I figure it out.” You admit. It’s not your favorite option, all things considered, but since it’s dumb for you to be even vaguely upset that your boyfriend didn’t announce he had secret plans already in the works — which your stupid romantic comedy loving brain had hoped for but knew was a longshot — it’s better to just be practical. “So the Secret Service can tell me if wherever I pick is insecure or something like that. Even though I can’t imagine that anybody is out to get me. That’s absurd.”

“You’d be surprised what humans are capable of.” Sam reminds you, having read some of the most horrific reports imaginable. He likes that you are practical, even if you are a bit naive.

“Not a super fun thing to hear from your boyfriend, but okay.” It’s nothing you can’t brush off, and you do so with a wave of your hand. “There is also a state dinner coming up in a few weeks that I definitely do not want to go to without you.”

“I’m available.” He promises. “I’ve got a couple of events in my district coming up. But I’ll mark that on my calendar.”

“Thank you.” Though you aren’t blind to the ways that attending these things helps him, you appreciate the company. You aren’t effortlessly charismatic like your brother or a star student with enigmatic insights like your sister. You’re the least comfortable in the public eye out of your whole family, and that is what it is. At some point in the night when he inevitably veers off to shake hands and schmooze politically, you’ll sit quietly at your table and smile politely while you wait for Sam to come back, and that’s okay. “I really really appreciate it.”

Sam huffs, sending you a small smirk. “A night where you are wearing a beautiful dress, we eat an elegant dinner, what’s not to love?” He leaves the part about making connections unspoken, both of you know how this game is worked. “And maybe you can come spend the night at my place after.”

"What an absolutely scandalous suggestion." One hand clutches your nonexistent pearls, pretending to be aghast, but you throw him a wink. Intimacy in your relationship unfortunately does have to be scheduled at a certain point...just on the basis that you have a Secret Service agent you can't simply ditch, and he has a personal assistant that might be even more invasive than the Secret Service. "I love it."

“Good.” Sam smirks back at you and sends you his own wink. “I’ve missed a cute little snore, and I need to get some cuddling in.”

"I do not snore." Despite pouting at him – and knowing that you do, in fact, snore – you end up grinning. "But we have been low on cuddle time lately, I agree."

“Yeah, I know my job is hectic and yours isn’t a walk in the park.” He acknowledges wholeheartedly. “But I want this to work. Maybe we just need to move in together.” He hadn’t meant to just blurt that out, but he’s been thinking about it.

“I—what?” You nearly spit out the sip of coffee you had just taken and sit up arrow straight in your chair, staring at him without the ability to stop yourself. “You—you want me to—to move in with you?” It’s never been discussed. Not really. At least not with a timeline, and that’s probably your fault. You’re so prone to jumping into relationships head first that you had told yourself you would move slow with Sam. That…seems to not be the case now.

“It doesn’t have to be now.” He promises. “Just something to consider. That’s all. We would get more time together.”

"I can honestly say I was not expecting that today." It's shaken you up a little, if you're honest, but you reach over your desk and squeeze his hand before leaning out of your chair to kiss him.

“That’s not a bad thing, is it?” It’s not quite the reaction he was expecting, if he is honest with himself.

"No, not at all!" You're quick to reassure him, realizing that Sam's expression is a little more guarded than usual. You've disappointed him. That's not a feeling you like at all. Not even a little. "I'd say the fact that my boyfriend wants to spend more time with me is a very good thing." If it's such a good thing, why is your mouth dry and why are you all tense with nerves? "And I want that, too. You just surprised me, that's all."

“Of course we need to talk about it more in depth.” He relaxes slightly, happy that you are at least open to the idea.

"Is that...something you want to talk about soon?" There are ideas rolling over in your head with varying levels of comfort, but the fact is that you hadn't realized that Sam was already there. Sure you had said your I love yous already, but you really had been trying to go slower this time, and that pace had seemed to suit Sam just fine. And why is it suddenly now that your mind is stuck on the idea that he isn't your soulmate? Is it just because you met a man who could be? You had always told yourself it didn't matter before now...

“We are coming up on our one-year anniversary of dating.” He reminds you, wondering why all of a sudden you look like you’ve seen a ghost. He’s been patient, letting you move slowly since you were afraid of diving in too much too soon, but this is the natural next step. Otherwise, it will be random sleepovers whenever you can manage it for the rest of your lives and Sam doesn’t want that. “I figured we could discuss what our next steps were.” He smiles softly. “I want the next steps, whenever you’re ready.”

"You're right." He is right. The logic is there, and the sweetness, and you do genuinely like him. In fact, loving him came easily and naturally. It's just that today has you a little shaken up and you don't want to admit it to yourself. Any other day and you would have been ecstatically throwing yourself into his arms. "You're absolutely right. This is definitely next." Composing yourself into a smile and reminding yourself to goddamn relax, you pick up your now cold coffee and finish the cup. "Why don't we pick a night this week to cook dinner together and talk through what we want our future to look like?"

“That works.” He flashes you the boyish grin you claim to love and nods. “Little food. Little wine, little….cuddling while we talk. It’s exactly what we need. You’ve been peddle to the mettle lately, and so have I. It will be good to decompress and hash out our concerns.”

"Perfect." And you will, you tell yourself sternly, get your shit together by then.

“But tonight…” he winks at you. “I’m going to whoop your ass at Clue.”

Because it's your turn to host, your small apartment has been cleaned top to bottom in preparation for the night. Sydney took care of making dinner, you have dessert in the refrigerator, and you have it on the authority of the group chat that garlic bread and salad are both coming as well. Juan said he and Marcus were supplying drinks, so everything is set up with plenty of time for everyone to arrive.

Agent Bailey is sitting on the couch waiting for her evening relief so she can go home to her own family and Sam is setting a stack of mismatched plates on the dining room table when Juan, Marcus, Sydney, and her sister Anna Leigh all show up very promptly on the turn of the hour.

Marcus is a little nervous aware that he has a tenuous tie to the game night, but he is quickly at ease when everyone starts greeting people like old friends. He hadn’t quite known what to get, so he had bought several bottle of whiskey and wine, figuring someone would appreciate it. The bottle of ‘76 Statesman Reserve a personal favorite of his and the little store he had stopped at had one last bottle.

"Hey, we didn't scare Marcus off!" Maybe you're a little happy to see him, but you excuse that as being glad that Juan has his friend back and ardently ignore the way your chest clenches when he walks into your little apartment.

“Hope you don’t mind.” He offers instantly, holding back from flirting like he wants to. You are seeing someone. “But I brought gifts.” He holds up the bottle, the others in his bag.

“Statesman.” You practically groan with delight at the sight of the bottle. “When we were campaigning in Kentucky, my little brother and I toured their distillery, I love this stuff.” Fighting the instinct to offer him a hug — and it really is an instinct — you grin and wander toward the kitchen to complete introductions. “You already know Syd and Juan, of course. The beautiful agent of chaos currently throwing garlic bread in the oven is Syd’s sister Anna Leigh, and the intimidating lady on the sofa with the New York Times crossword in her lap is Agent Bailey. I don’t know if you two officially met earlier or not. Looking around, Sam is not in sight, but you chew your lip for a second and smile. “My other half seems to have disappeared, but I’m sure he’ll be right back.”

“Oh, okay.” He shouldn’t be disappointed that your boyfriend is here. That’s what he keeps telling himself. “Congressman from Maryland, right?” Okay, he might have read up on you.

“Right.” There’s a note of something off in Marcus’s voice but you can’t figure out what, so you just smile. “I promise we don’t use official titles over board games.”

“Good.” He cracks a lighthearted grin. “I hate when I’m made in charge of the jail in Monopoly.” He jokes. He hands you the bottle and looks around the little apartment. “Anything I can do to help?”

“I think we’re just waiting for Issy and then everyone will be here. So for now if you want to maybe pour drinks while we all get settled?” This is always an informal setting and you want everyone to feel relaxed as much as possible. “Let me give you the grand tour first?” What a stupid thing to say in your little, tiny space. But now you’ve said it, so you just have to pretend it was something charming to say instead of awkward.

“That sounds good.” Marcus quickly agrees, although it’s obvious that there’s not much to the small space. “The private sanctum.”

“Eat it kitchen.” Is the space you’re standing in, with a too-big dining room table that is also your prep counter because there is basically no counter space — just enough to put a few grocery bags on and nothing more. “I have an unholy love of dinner parties, hence the big table. Over here is the living room. Mandatory bar cart with the tv, and as many throw pillows as the couch can hold.” Agent Bailey currently has her arm resting on the head of a pillow shaped like a horse that you brought back from a campaign trip out West. “Bathroom is down the hall, just here.” The door is closed, so that must be where Sam is. “And just turn the corner and you’re in the bedroom-slash-library.” You have to call it that — you really have to, because the entire room is covered in wall to wall bookcases that are pretty much entirely full. The only exceptions are where your sleigh bed and writing desk sit on opposite ends of the tight room. “It’s more library than anything else.”

“Obviously like to read.” He nods. “What genre? Or is it too embarrassing to mention in company?”

“I’m not embarrassed at all to read romance novels.” A whole section of the shelf by your bed is dedicated to them, in fact. Healthy sexuality and healthy explorations of that sexuality are vital, but you won’t get that far into the topic. “I have a lot of various things here, but the majority are probably mystery, thrillers, and classics from all over the world.” The shelf you’re standing by has your collection of writing by both F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, and you smile. “Of course, some of the classics are romances. That’s to be expected.”

“They are. I find that if you limit yourself in what you read, you are missing out.” He looks over your shelf with interest. “It looks like a wonderful collection.”

“Thank you. A compliment for my books is the highest compliment possible.” There’s a warm smile on your lips when the bathroom door pulls open a few feet away and you feel like you’ve been caught although there isn’t a single thing wrong about showing a new friend around your apartment. There’s no reason to jump out of your skin, but here you are with burning cheeks feeling embarrassed.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Sam doesn’t frown, but he wonders who this man is and why he is in your bedroom.

"Hey." Your smile does widen of its own accord, and you motion between the men in a sort of vaguely formal way that is definitely odd for you. "Sam, this is Marcus. One of Juan's old friends. He came by the inn earlier today and we thought it would be nice to introduce him to the group." It's awful, and very unnecessary, how heavy your tongue feels when you go to make the introduction the opposite way. "Marcus, this is Sam. My boyfriend."

It’s a little awkward, Marcus can admit that but he extends his hand. “Nice to meet you, Sam.” He offers, smiling in a friendly, first meeting kind of way. “My connection to the group is through Juan.” He explains. “We were at the academy together.”

"Ah, a government man." That seems to win Sam's approval, though his handshake might be just a hair tighter than it would otherwise be based on the tension in the air. "Well, welc—"

"Babe!" Sydney's voice comes loud and clear from the other room as the door opens and the sound of chaotic friends can be heard. "Issy's here! Let's gooo!"

The introductions are interrupted and it’s probably not a bad thing. Marcus lets go of Sam’s hand and immediately makes for the door. “Guess that’s our queue.”

“Coming!” You call back, eager to be standing anywhere but your doorway between these two men. “Issy is a friend from college.” That’s the easy explanation you give Marcus as Sam steers you back to the kitchen with his hand on your back. “Syd, Anna Leigh, and Issy and I were suite mates at Mount Holyoke.”

Marcus nods, committing everyone to memory. “Nice to meet all of you. Thank you for letting me join you tonight.”

Getting everything set up doesn’t take much longer, and a buffet of cheesy garlic bread, a huge salad, Sydney’s pancetta lasagna, and the lemon tiramisu you made for dessert is all laid out on the counter. Everyone digs in and says a loud chorus of rowdy good nights when your Secret Service detail has its changing of the guard in the middle of it all. It’s a lot, and it’s chaos, but it’s so comforting because these are all people you love to spend time with. Even Marcus, as new as he is, fits right into the group effortlessly.

“Oh! Sydney.” Marcus dives back into the bag and pulls out a bottle of sparkling white grape juice and some sodas and grenadine. “I figured you might like my family’s version of Shirley Temple’s?” He offers. “So you can have a mocktail with the ladies?”

“Absolutely!” Syd’s eyes light up at the offer, and she brings her overstuffed plate over to the table to sit beside her husband. In her favorite baggy sweatshirt, no one could ever tell she’s pregnant, but one of her hands rests on the side of her belly anyway. “That sounds fantastic.”

“So my grandmother used to make these for all the kids, so we could feel special too.” Marcus explains as he grabs a wine glass and starts to mix together the non-alcoholic drink. “It had to be sparkling grape juice because of the bottle shape.” He chuckles now, but back then? He had felt grown up. “When she died, we served these at her wake.”

“That’s so sweet.” Sydney awes softly as Marcus carefully pours out the drink. “These are Birdie’s favorite, actually,” she points her thumb back at you while she chats at him. “We usually spike them with rum, of course. To be a Shirley Temple Black. I can’t remember the last time I just had a regular old Shirley Temple.”

“A dirty Shirley?” Marcus gasps in faux horror. “The best way to spike that is with Statesman.”

“On it!” You hop up from the table immediately to grab a glass and line up next to Sydney at the counter. “I’ve heard of people doing them with rum and vodka, but never with whiskey. I have to know.”

He chuckles and nods. “You won’t regret it. The grape juice plays off the smoky, oaky flavors very nicely.” He tells you. “It’s almost better than a robust bouquet on a red.”

“I can’t claim to know anything about wine, but I’m trying to learn.” Sam prefers wine, and you’ve been trying to not feel foolish when people discuss wine pairings at official dinners. It’s been a fairly deep learning curve. “But I’ll take your word for it.”

“More of a whiskey girl?” Marcus asks, filing away the information even though it’s not like he’s going to use it. One of those odd little quirks of his time in the Bureau, he tries to read people.

“Always have been.” As evidenced by the Whiskey Makes Me Frisky sweater still stuff in your closet from college, which won’t see the light of day again until your mother is out of office. “You too?” Your eyes widen immediately and you stumble over correcting yourself. “Guy, I mean? Whiskey guy?”

Marcus laughs and gives you a guilty grin. “I learned to enjoy wine. My ex was a wino to the point where we honeymooned in Napa Valley.” He snorts. “But my first love was a Jack and Coke.”

“The next time you’re sick, have a whiskey and ginger beer.” The advice comes as he hands you your glass but he looks skeptical. “I mean, it’s a good drink no matter what, but I swear it knocks out my colds faster than anything else.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Marcus hums and decides that he will make one for himself. “Tell me what you think.”

One sip has you groaning, and you bring the glass back to the table like you’ve found the Holy Grail. “Sammy, try this. I know you’re not usually big in whiskey, but this is fantastic.”

Sam wrinkles his nose, really uninterested in trying it, but he politely takes a sip. Pleasantly surprised, he makes a face. “Huh. That’s not as horrible as I imagined.”

“And that,” you look back at Marcus and laugh. “Is the highest compliment he’s ever given a whiskey drink.”

Marcus chuckles politely and motions towards the table. “There’s a nice Cabernet that he might like better.” He offers.

“That sounds perfect.” You move back to the counter to collect a wine glass, corkscrew, and the bottle to bring back, knowing that Sam will open it far more neatly than you can.

“So how has everybody been?” Prompting conversation once everyone is at the table gets the ball rolling nicely, and conversation starts as everyone starts to eat their dinner.

“Well, everyone knows that Sydney is expecting.” Juan boasts proudly, obviously loving the prospect of becoming a father. “But she started experiencing her first cravings.”

“Oooo, what are they?” Issy sits up in her chair immediately. “Please tell me it’s something non-gourmet. If this baby is a food snob I’m not going to have anything to tease you about.”

“Right now….” Juan grins and sends his wife an utterly besotted look. “Ranch flavored bugles.”

“Oh my god!” Both Issy and Anna Leigh practically scream with laughter immediately and your jaw hits the table with maniacal giggle.

“I know,” Syd moans in embarrassment. “I know! The baby likes ranch!”

“There must be a joke there somewhere.” Marcus laughs, enjoying the lighthearted atmosphere of the group and how they are all so easy with each other.

"Syd's current greatest fear is having a kid who doesn't care about food." You explain, picking up a forkful of lasagna. "If they turned out to not like food or hockey, she'll be doomed."

“I see.” He chuckles, although he himself had a less refined pallet when he was younger. Now he enjoys trying new things.

"They're exaggerating." Sydney promises, not wanting her husband's old friend to think she's that much of a snob. "Obviously no kid comes out loving caviar and oxtail."

“No, I can see why you would expect your child to give you cravings for something like this.” He praises, lifting a forkful of the lasagna. “I gave my mom cravings for salami and bologna. Which she couldn’t eat.”

"My mom had a lot of cheese cravings." Not expecting baby-oriented conversation was probably an oversight on your part, but it's fun and your best friend just absolutely glows whenever it's brought up. "With me it was gruyere, with my brother it was cheddar, and with my little sister it was asiago." The memory makes you grin, and you laugh a little, mostly to yourself. "She ate so many asiago bagels when she was pregnant with June."

“Ohhhhh I could see how that could be an easy craving.” Issy snorts. “I have cravings for those all the time and I’m not pregnant.”

"Right?" You're nodding in agreement instantly. "I'm honored that my pregnancy craving was gruyere. That's quality cheese."

“Maybe the craving will change to truffle cheddar fries.” Marcus suggests with a grin. “With ranch.”

“See, this is the kind of encouragement we should be thinking about. Positive thinking all the way.” Sydney grins, beaming across the table to her husband’s friend. Even if her hunch about the true nature of Marcus’s soulmate marks isn’t true, he’s still a good addition to the group. “What’s everybody else been up to.”

Everyone starts talking and Marcus leans back. Watching the dynamic of the group and it’s obvious that everyone is comfortable with each other. Talking over one another and laughing, poking fun in a gentle way. It seems as if Juan - and you - have a solid friends group.

The tempo of the night is unchanged from any other — there is as much laughter and fun as any game night you’ve had in years. The joy of having your friends nearby is never tempered, but tonight it is…just a little bit different. As for first time ever — with your boyfriend sitting next to you — you have to wonder if maybe your soulmate is actually sitting there at the table. And what will you do when it isn’t the man with his arm around you?

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

HHL: @haileymorelikestupid

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #The Mentalist #soulmate au #First Daughter reader #Juan Badillo #Graceland #Juan Badillo x f!OC #Juan Badillo x OC #love triangle

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hanasnx · 8 months

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just like a daddy should

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: this concept of dark!hayden is co-created/developed by @xstarkillerx | dead dove do not eat for emphasis on age gap relationship and heavy daddy kink content. dark!hayden is an au, it does not reflect my view of hayden christensen as a person. in this au he's not an actor. WARNINGS: dead dove do not eat | f!reader | dark!hayden | daddy content | age gap | problematic behavior | ass patting | mild exhibitionism | no y/n

Your heels clack against the wooden boards of the stairs, climbing them to invite yourself onto the resort staging set above the beach. The bodyguard steps aside for you, he knows who you're here with.

"—liquidating that branch'll do nothing for you here. You'll be bleeding yourself—" the sound of DARK!HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN's voice soothes your worries, approaching where he lounges on a cushioned chair. His elbow is hooked onto the corner of it, and his leg is folded up to rest his ankle on his knee. His outfit remarkably smart, white linen shirt tucked into gray dress pants and a thin black belt. Never mind his comfort, you ignore his companion, interrupt his conversation, and invite yourself onto his lap. He sees the stressed lines of your brows, and makes room for you right as you take your seat.

"Daddy." you whine. The strings of your micro-bikini catch on his clothes, and he discretely tugs down a cup to cover a bit more of the curve of your chest that'd been revealed. You frown at your hand, "I broke a nail. And I just got these done!" you cry, hopelessly examining the dejected state of your cracked acrylic, and you feel his breath against your shoulder as he looks over it. Gently, he envelopes your hand in his, drawing it in his line of sight.

"Oh, duchess, let me see." he sympathizes you, studying what you offer him while he palms your bare thigh. "Don't worry. We'll fix it later. I've gotta take care of some things here." he coos, his lips murmuring against your ear that shoots tingles up your spine. You sought comfort and attention, and that's exactly what he's given you. Hayden can see out of the corner of his eye how his associate cannot take his eyes off of you, nor the shameless display before him.

Hayden notes how rude you are, how you have no manners, ignoring his companion, neglecting to introduce yourself. The tenacity of being young and naive is so deliciously novel to him. So much so it brings entertained curls to the corners of his mouth. You pivot more into Hayden's direction, his hand sliding against your back as you do, and he settles into the cushion when you lean into him. Curious fingers latch onto the collar of his button-up, widening it's opening to expose more of his chest. Fingertips toy with the lines of his collarbones, watching yourself fidget, pouting at it. "I miss you." you say, hushed, and meet his patient gaze. He says nothing, so you take it as your cue to leave. You push off him, planting your high heels on the floor to stand. In newfound giddy energy, you show off your ass to him. "What do you think of my new tattoo?"

A little tramp stamp is visible right above your low waistband. As he lingers a glance on it, his expression hardens, and his voice lowers, "We'll talk about this later." A pat on your ass is your signal to get going, intent to avoid making a scene here. No one said you can get a tattoo, tattoos are too grown for your virgin skin. To diffuse the tension he knows he's caused, he calls after you casually, "Wait for me at the bar. Order me something, huh? Surprise me."

His associate looks after you, gaze glued to the way your hips sway as you recede. You're young, and he can't pin down what your relationship to Hayden is exactly. When he shifts his attention back to Hayden, he's met with a hint of a prideful smile. "Sorry about that. My buddy's daughter. We're close, you know?"

#dead dove do not eat #tw age gap #tw daddy kink #ch: dark!hayden #indy: drabbles #hayden christensen drabble #hayden christensen smut #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen x reader smut #hayden christensen x f!reader #hayden christensen x f!reader smut #hayden christensen x you #hayden christensen x you smut #hayden christensen au #reader insert #x f!reader #hayden christensen fic #hayden christensen fanfic #hayden christensen fanfiction

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ren-the-gamer · 11 months

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Tattoo Artist Hobie

A/N: this came to me yesterday for no reason, i have bad hobie brain rot :(((

Warnings: very mild sexual themes in the sfw portion, slapping of the ass, tattoos (obviously), readers gender is not described or their genitalia but i made this with a fem reader in mind, mention of piercings, hinted towards nipple piercings, vibrating tongue piercings, sluttiness, BRITISH PEOPLE :(((

SFW:

hobie would be a master at his craft

i think his canon self knows how to tattoo, or has atleast given himself on at one point.

he would own his own little shop, his prices would be cheap so that anyone could afford them.

imagine the way is hands would flex while holding the tattoo gun

he would bite his bottom lip in focus, you thought he wouldn't notice you staring at him.

but when he smirks and says. "a picture will last longer, love." you realize his eyes have been on you the whole time.

he has decided that he is your personal tattoo artist

he's normally not that possessive, but a tattooing session between the two of you has so much pull on him he refuses to let anyone in on that high he gets.

he would love to just put random things across your body, putting graffiti like designs down your arms fills him with a sense of pride

it's like he has marked you and let the world know who you belong to.

sometimes, when he's giving you a tattoo, you can feel the cool metal of his rings glide across your skin

you shiver and he holds your flesh in the area he's tattooing.

"be still for me, can you do that, dear?"

ugghh this man ya"ll

every time he's done with a tattoo, he kisses you where you just got it.

i highly doubt that it's sanitary but let's just pretend for the sake of head canons

if he's giving you a tattoo on your legs or butt, he'll give a little slap to tease you every now and then.

he has tattoos that from up and down his arms and one on his neck and chest

his favorite places to give you tattoos are more scandalous places.

like the ones in the pictures above.

NSFW:

imagine him holding you by your hip bone as he works, his face and hands so close to your privates

you can't help but stare at him, the way he's staring at your tummy makes you think the tattoo isn't the only thing he's focused on.

he can sense how tense you are, the vibrations from the tattoo gun are going straight to your core, every time he moves closer down you feel like he's edging you

if you every get his name tattooed, he wants it to be in the form of a tramp stamp

when he's fucking you from behind, he wants to watch the ink bounce and jiggle while he slams into you or slaps your ass.

also, most tattoo shops also have piercings.

if you ever got a piercing in a sensitive spot, he would kiss and suck on it to soothe you

totally not just because he's horny, totally.

when it heals though, he is ruthless.

he's gonna bite and pinch the area.

you whine and moan for him to stop, but holy shit it hurts so good.

he also has a tongue piercing, you already know where i'm going with this.

it def vibrates

his tongue will go numb from eating you out for so long and the constant vibrations.

okay back to him being a tattoo artist tho.

on rare occasions, he will want you to just strip completely naked and just adore your body

he would kiss and mark your body in hickeys

also, you two have def fucked at least once in his shop

and during working hours

#hobie brown x reader #hobie x you #hobie brown #spiderverse smut #spiderverse x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spiderverse headcanon #spiderpunk smut

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codisgay · 4 months

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MORE Body & Cuddling HC's

*SFW*

Kinda sugestive tho (☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞

Holy shit, I didn't mean to make these this long but I love my boys so, eat my children, feast away.

-^-^-

Graves:

-Twink.

-I mean he's a brat, we know this. He has a very feminine waist and is clean shaved all over, he buys the most expensive shit.

-He has a tattoo, right above his ass. Yes. It's a tramp stamp.

-Always has to be the little spoon, but if he's really stressed he'll lay on your side and knead your pecs. Maybe take a chomp if he notices you're starting to nod off or if you even suggest you're bored and just want to get a book to read.

-He really is just a brat.

-^-^-

Alex:

-Im thinkin... Otter.

-Definitely has chest hair and some on his back too, happy trial starts right under his belly button.

-He's such a pretty boy and he knows it. Will absolutely use it against you. I'm talking making his way into your office when you're having to pull an all nighter because of paperwork. He'll slowly roll your blinds up, make his way to the couch in your office to lay in the moon beams as they shine ever so beautifully off his skin and highlighting his hair perfectly.

-Still ignore him? He's making noises now, clicking his prosthetic leg against the floor to piss you off, maybe saying nasty things to you in morse code while he's at it.

-When you eventually give in, just pick him up like a cat and plop him in your lap. Occasionally kiss his forehead while you're rubbing his back and he's passed out in record time, head tucked in the crook of your neck, his breath and stache occasionally tickling your skin.

-^-^-

König:

-Ok, I'm aware people hc him as big and hairy but I'm in love with @bluegiragi design of him. Just wet cat. So I'm gonna say twunk, a tall hunky twink.

-Minimal amount of hair on his chest and a nice sprinkle disappearing into his pants. Very, very pronounced v-line. Small waist big hips.

-Under his hood is a mop of stringy dark burgundy hair kept in a lazy low bun. Has a scar starting from his chin across his nose and up to his left eyebrow. Other minimal scarring across his body. His left nipple and tounge are pierced, on his back is a tattoo of a malnourished ork upside down hanging from a tree with tears streaming down it's cheeks.

-If he's on the verge of a panic attack and has completely shut you out, pinch the scruff of his neck that way you have his attention before taking his hands and setting them on your chest. The rhythmic thumping of your heart calms him down. Basically just cuddle and talk with him and he'll fall asleep in your arms.

-He's kinda lanky so he'll koala around you without even realizing, and God forbid your arm or leg falls asleep. He's comfortable with you so he'll blink his long lashes at you while jutting his bottom lip out, and you'd have to be an ass if you still tried to shift after he looks at you like that.

-If you're both in a meeting, and y'know he's a colonel so he's acting all serious and it can occupy his mind for a while. Not being affectionate because he drills into that head space heavily, just give him a minute or ask if he's up for a spar. Do not get all lovey dovey while he's like this, he tends to get angry and won't mean any of it but he can be quite scary and will just glare down at you until left alone.

-Eventually he'll come back and climb into your shared room. If you're awake and reading or something he'll wiggle between your legs, using your stomach as a pillow as he absent-mindedly traces hearts on your thigh in apology.

-But if you're asleep he'll dig that octopus plush out of the drawer and flip it on it's happy side, setting it next to your pillow so you see it the next morning before crawling under the covers and spooning you with his arms over yours and fingers intertwined.

-^-^-

Keegan:

-Def an otter.

-He'll trim his pubes but that's it, but only if you complain directly to him about them scratching you.

-Has both ears and his nose pierced.

-He reeks of musk constantly, at this point you're worried he doesn't shower at all. Sweat and testosterone oozing out of every pore.

-On a less grossly sexy note he has freckles, little ones dotted along his shoulders and this tiny beauty mark under his lip. Goes feral when you leave a hickey directly on the mark, he's feral in general but like... extra feral.

-He's Mr.Hotshot but like every human he has a weakness.

-Keegan P. Russ is extremely ticklish and hates it, you on the other hand love it, obviously. Because he tends to get huffy like a toddler and starts going off on you, just wiggle a finger under his chin and watch as this squeamish little giggle escapes his lips. His face will go tomato red as he points as accusing finger at you as he lets out a gasp of betrayal.

-Sooth him over by scooping him up and crushing him under your weight, he lives for the feeling of you going deadweight on him. Eventually calms down and traces the muscle lines on your back while you both begin to doze off.

-But don't celebrate now because he sleeps like a rock and snores like a pig.

-You still love him though.

-^-^-

Roach:

-Twink twink twink. Tiny bug man has stolen my heart.

-Has like no body hair except for his surprisingly hairy legs.

-He has antenna, just like actual antenna and know one knows why. Ask him and he'll chitter at you and scurry away. You've checked his entire body by the way, trying to figure out if he was hiding any thing else bug like while he has a smug smirk.

-Imagine getting up in the middle of the night and uh oh. Your pest of a boyfriend has mysteriously disappeared. Or... you thought until you swung your legs over the bed to find him and hear a startled squeak from under your bed.

-I mean, how dare you step on his hand like that?? What do you mean it's his fault for hiding under the bed? Nuh uh, all your fault.

-And like I said before he just has functioning antenna because they just move around, because you'll be sitting on the bed or maybe in your office and all of a sudden these little buggers pop up.

-He used to do it to scare you but as soon as you got used to it you figured out how sensitive the little antenna are. He'll be standing in the locker room, fresh out of his gear, antenna drooping with exhaustion.

-Just sneak up behind him and flick his antenna and watch as he trills, body shuddeirng and goosebumps all over his freckled skin as he looks back at you expectingly. Can't just leave your boyfriend all high and dry like that, especially not after such a brutal(in his words.. er, hands) attack to him.

-Let him scramble up you like a tree before you walk back to the bedroom with him on your shoulders, a freckled thigh on each side of your head with his swinging feet bouncing off your chest.

-If you're both in the mood, usually just him. He'll give you sloppy kisses, until you've got a throbbing vein on your forehead because he won't just fucking kiss you properly so you manhandle him under you, sitting on his pelvis as a whispy noise leaves him. Immediately craning back up to litter hickies wherever he can reach, he bites, not nibbles. Mostly on your nipples.

-Tugging those darned piercing until your nipples are raw and you have to shamefully wear tape over them since your uniform tends to scratch at them either way and it's even worse now. And the tiny fucker giggles about it too. If you aren't on mission and you stretch your arms out, your shirt pressing tight to your chest and the indent if the tape being visible once again he's break out into loud giggles if you're alone or with the squad but if with people that aren't the tight group of 141 boys his shoulders will just shake with silent, mocking laughter.

-^-^-

Pt.3 is also in the works ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶

I never expected these to be getting so many notes.

I might be missing a few tags, so oopsie.

#cod mw2 #cod x male reader #cod fic #modern warfare 2 #konig x male reader #konig mw2 #x reader #alex x male reader #graves x male reader #Phillp Graves #alex keller #keegan x male reader #roach x male reader #Cod ghosts

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