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cherrycola27 · 2 days

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Red Wine, Fall into me

Warnings: Language, Alcohol consumption, Smut. 18+ (Phoenix x Female Reader) banner by the wonderful @thedroneranger Fic inspired by the Chappell Roan song "Red Wine Supernova"

...........................................

You know they say not to waste a Friday night on a first date.

Yet, here you were, in a nice dress, walking into a cocktail bar, to meet some guy, from some app, on a Friday night for a first date. You'd spent a ridiculous amount of time doing your hair, makeup, and picking out the perfect outfit that was the right balance of "I'm a good girl," and "I just might let you take me home if you play your cards right."

You texted your date that you were there and that you'd be at the bar. You were there a few minutes before your agreed upon time, so you walked up to the bar top, which had a middle-aged couple at one end, and a pretty dark-haired brunette at the other.

You took a seat a few stools down from her and ordered a glass of merlot from the bartender. He sat it down quickly in front of you as you checked your phone to see if your date had responded to your text. You felt immediately defeated to see that it still had not been read.

A few minutes ticked by, and it was now the time you and your date had set to meet. You fired off another text asking if he was there, with no response. Several minutes later, you sent one asking if he was on his way and nothing. Finally, a full thirty minutes and a second glass of wine later, he sent you a message saying that something came up, and he wouldn't make it.

You huffed as you sat your phone down on the counter and groaned. Of course, this would happen to you. This was the last time you agreed to a date from an app.

You sighed and finished the last sip of wine in your glass and rummaged through your purse for your card. Before you could pull it out, though, you heard a soft voice speak. "Put her last two on my tab, and bring us another round if you don't mind."

You look up and see the pretty brunette from earlier handing her card over and taking a seat next to you. "Thank you, but you don't have to do that." You smile at her. "I know, but I want to." She smiles back at you, extending her hand for you to shake, "I'm Natasha, by the way. What's your name?"

You tell her your name, and she repeats it back, slowly, savoring every syllable of it like it's a fine wine. You don't think your name has ever sounded as good as it does coming out of her mouth.

"So, what's a pretty little thing like you doing here all alone?" She asks you. "I was supposed to have a date but—he stood me up." You sigh. "His loss is my gain then." Natasha says as she brings her own wine glass up to her lips. You blush at her words.

"What about you?" You fire back at her. "I just wanted a nice quiet night out, away from the crowds. Somewhere that I could relax and make a new—friend." She winks at you and slides her stool closer to yours.

"So, tell me about yourself." She says, and she rests her foot on the bottom of your stool. Your thighs part just enough to accommodate her toned leg that's exposed from the slit in her dress.

A shiver runs down your spine as you tell her about your job and some of your friends and what you like to do for fun. Her eyes stayed glued to yours, and she nods and questions and seems genuinely interested in you. "What about you?" You ask her when you finish.

"I'm in the Navy. I'm an aviator." She says as if it's the most casual thing in the world.

"Oh. So I guess you're used to going fast and doing what you want then." You smirk at her. "I can go fast." She says as she leans into your space. "But—" she sighs as she places her hand on your thigh. "—I actually have a partner in the backseat that I have to listen to, so I'm very good at taking directions. And, there are so many controls in the cockpit, that I have to be excellent with precision." She breathes out.

Natasha leans in closer to you. "I've always been amazing and zeroing in on my target and finishing the job. She whispers in your ear before pulling back. You swallow thickly and shift in your seat, unable to ignore the wetness pooling between your thighs and the heat that you feel in your belly that isn't from the wine.

"Is that so?" You say, cocking your head to the side. "Now, what exactly would one have to do if they want to see these skills in action?" You pry. "I think after a few glasses of wine and a dance or two, I might be convinced. Care to find out?" A crimson smile curls at her lips as she extends her hand to you.

You nod your head and slip your hand in hers. She places her palm on the small of your back, just a tad too low to be considered decent as she guides you to the dance floor. She presses closer to you to avoid the other people already there. You can smell her perfume. Floral and spicy with a hint of sweet. It is so intoxicating that it makes your head spin more than any glass of wine ever could.

Natasha drags you directly to the middle of the dance floor amongst all the other couples. She spins you around and presses your back to her front. There is absolutely no space between the two of you, and you can feel every soft curve of her body pressed against yours.

You sway to the beat of some song you don't know as her hands skim up and down your arms before resting on your hips. She pulls your hair over one of your shoulders and rests her chin on your newly exposed skin. You shiver as she places a gentle, fleeting kiss on your shoulder. You feel the blush in your cheeks spread all over your body.

"You okay there, pretty girl?" Natasha asks you. "Y—yeah." You stammer out. "Just a little warm is all."

"Why don't we go get some air." She whispers hotly in your ear. Her breathy voice has you weak in the knees. You nod your head in agreement, unable to trust your own voice.

It's quieter outside. So quiet you can hear your heartbeat racing in your ears as the two of you make your way to a secluded spot on the far side of the deck. The fresh salty air fills your lungs as you try to take a deep breath to calm yourself. You lean against the deck railing and watch the waves roll in as the moonlight dances across the dark ocean.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Natasha says as she comes to stand beside you. "It's breathtaking." You say as you turn to face her. "It's not the only breathtaking thing out here." She says, looking you directly in the eye. "No, it's not." You counter.

You inhale deeply as she takes a step forward and places on and on your hip, drawing you closer to her. She uses her free hand to brush a few stray strands of your hair away before cupping your face and pulling you closer to her.

Her lips are pillowy soft when they connect with yours. Her hand slides to the back of your hair, tangling in your locks to hold you in place. You wrap both of your arms around her neck as she trails her tonuge across the seam of your lips, asking for permission to deepen the kiss.

You gladly grant her access, and you moan as her tongue caresses yours. The kiss is sweet, with the last drops of your wine still on each other's mouths.

You moan and lean into her when you feel her fingers dig into your hip. She takes a step closer and pushes your back against the metal deck rail, her lips never leaving yours as her kisses become more hungry, more demanding.

She pulls her mouth away from yours, and you gasp as she trails her perfect pout across your chin and jaw before grazing your ear lobe with her teeth. You inhale sharply, and it's like music to Natasha's ears.

She continues her assault, trying to draw even more new sounds from you. Her lips skim over the sensitive flesh of your neck. You find yourself arching towards her, silently begging her for more. You feel her smile against you before she carefully grazes her teeth over the sensitive flesh before pulling back and laving it with her tongue. She repeats the action and your hand tangles in her dark strands, holding her in place. She chuckles and continues to work the space between your shoulder and ear, surely leaving a few dark marks behind, but you don't care. You want her to mark you up—claim you as hers.

You draw her mouth back to yours and kiss her until you're breathless. She pulls back and her lips are swollen, and her cheeks are red.

"I don't normally do this, y'know." You confess to her.

"Neither do I." She tells you truthfully.

You heave a sigh of relief. "I don't think I've ever done this, actually. But there's something about you that's—magical." You say as you bite down on your lower lip and bat your eyes at her.

"If you think I'm magic here, you should let me take you home. I've got a wand and a rabbit that I can show you all kinds of tricks with." She smirks at you.

................

A few minutes later, the two of you are in the back of an Uber going to Natasha's place. Her hand rests brazenly on your upper thigh, and her nimble fingers are tracing deft patterns across your skin. You squim in your seat, trying to keep yourself calm, when really, all you want to do is plant yourself in her lap and kiss her again.

The two of you somehow make it up the small path that leads to her front door. She unlocks it and pulls you in. Once the door is shut and she's clicked the lock, she pushes you up against it and kisses you roughly. You meet her kisses with passion. Both sets of your hands roam over each other, desperately.

Natasha has enough sense to practically drag you into her bedroom. You stand there a little awkwardly until she comes up behind you and slowly unzips you dress. Her lips trace your spine, leaving faint, wine colored kisses from her leftover lipstick on your flesh.

The garment drops to the floor, and you turn around to face her. She admires how your nipples are peaked and perky with anticipation. The scrap of lace, that could barely be called underwear, that you chose to wear tonight has an obvious dark spot on it. "Such a shame you date didn't get to see this." Natasha breathes out as she lightly grazes the front of it.

You shiver, and she lets out a breathy laugh. You reach for her, catching her wrist and pulling her to you. Your hands reach for her zipper. "Fair is fair." You mumble against her lips as she lets you pull it down before tugging the fabric off of her.

"Lay dow for me, pretty girl." Natasha says when she's kicked her dress to the side and shimmied out of her underwear. You take a moment to take in her form as you slip if your own panties.

Her dark hair falls gracefully over her shoulders. Her breasts are perky and lovely. She has a neatly shaved landing strip that draws your eyes to where you most want to be.

You lay back on her bed, making yourself comfortable on her pillows. Your breathing is shallow as her eyes rake over you.

"You're so fucking beautiful." She says as she crawls towards you. Beautiful. Not pretty, not hot, beautiful. You love how she talks about you. How she makes you feel seen.

"Thank you." You say before you can even think about it. She laughs as she reaches into her nightstand and pulls out the wand and rabbit that she mentioned earlier.

She sets them to the side before gently straddling your hips. She leans down to kiss you. Slowly, this time, it's more deliberate and precise. The two of you let your hands roam over each other's body. She tweaks your nipples, rolling them between her fingers and your arch toward her touch.

Not to be outdone, you wrap your lips around one of her peaks, and she lets out a gorgeous breathy moan that has your heart racing. She whines when you release the flesh with a soft pop but groans and leans into you when you repeat the action on the other. She subtly grinds her hips against you, seeking friction to relieve the ache between her thighs. You grab her thighs and help guide her, and she hums before stopping and sliding off of you.

"Mmm, not yet beautiful. There will be time for that. Let me take care of you first." She smiles at you. You huff a little, but don't protest. Natasha trails her lips across your breasts and chest and down your stomach. She circles her tongue around your navel before placing a kiss on your cunt, right about your clit.

You sigh as you sink deeper into her pillows, inhaling more of her intoxicating scent from earlier. She carefully parts your thighs and slots herself between them.

She grabs your left leg, and feathers kisses up from your knee towards your center and back down, a few times before switching to the right. She's taking her time building you up. And just when you think you are going to burst from her teasing, she places a fleeting kiss on your clit. You squeal and rock your hips upward, chasing her mouth.

She does it again, gently parting your folds with the delicate tip of her tongue, circling the sensitive bud and sucking it into her mouth.

She laps at your core, drinking in the taste of you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Wanton moans leave your mouth, and your chest heaves. One of your hands tightly fists her sheets, the other curling on her hair to hold her right where you want her. You squeeze your eyes shut and throw your head back as pure ecstacy washes over you when you cum.

Natasha works you through it until you push her head away. You lean up on your elbows and meet her eyes. She has a satisfied grin on her face. "How was that?" She asks almost cockily.

"Fantastic." You reply breathlessly. "I'm not done with you yet." She tells you as she reaches for her wand. You swallow and spread your legs for her.

She turns it on a low setting and starts by rubbing it over your nipples and down your body to get you used to the sensation. Slowly, she lowers it to your clit. You jump, still sensitive from your first orgasm, but you relax as she circles it around you bundle of nerves.

You feel one of her slender fingers circle around your entrance. "So fucking wet. All this for me, pretty girl?" She asks you. "Yes." You breathe out. You're jilted by a smack to your cunt. "Say my name, pretty girl. Tell me who's got you like this? Who got your pretty pussy absolutely dripping?" She commands.

"You—you did, Natasha. It's all for you." You babble out. She's satisfied with your answer and rewards you by sinking not one, but two of her long digits inside you and curling them upwards. You cry out her name as she finds your gspot impossibly fast. It should be a crime at how well she already knows your body as she strokes it with the perfect amount of speed and pressure.

She gages each sound you make and adjusts the wand on your clit and her fingers in your cunt. You have to give it to her, she wasn't lying when she said she could take directions.

Your head thrashes from side to side, and you're babbling out her name as she brings you closer to a second orgasm. Your toes curl against the mattress and you bite your bottom lip in an effort to keep your sounds at bay.

Natasha immediately tells you to be loud for her, and you're too for gone, and she has you so damn pliant that you'd do anything for her right now. So you release your lip and scream her name as you cum, gripping her fingers tightly, never wanting them to leave you.

When she does pull them out, you whine at the loss of contact, but it's short lived, because Natasha is crawling up your body and tapping her fingers on your lips.

You obediently open your mouth and close them around her digits, dutifully cleaning them for her. You groan at the taste of you on her hands. Once you've cleaned her, you pull off with a pop and kiss her. Your tongues meld together as you pull her onto of you.

You cradle her head and hook your legs around her waist and flip her under you. "Mine turn." You giggled as she looks up at you, bewildered. "Okay, then." She smiles down at you.

You cup each of her breasts in your hands and roll her nipples between your fingers. She lets out a small gasp as you kiss the tops of her breasts and the valley between them before continuing your journey south. You leave wet kisses across her hip bones and suck a dark mark into her right one, a little reminder of you for later.

You don't tease her like she teased you. You're too impatient. You've been dreaming about what she tasted like ever since you watched her bring that first glass of red wine to her lips this evening.

You tenderly part of folds before licking a long, broad stripe from her opening to her clit.

Natasha arches up off the bed, her hands flying to the sheets, clutching them for dear life. You repeated the motion over again before hooking one of her thighs over your shoulder. She's much more squirmy than you expected.

You work her over and over, tongue diving into her her sopping wet opening, nose bumping her clit.

She cries out your name, fingers in your hair, as you blindly reach for her other toy from earlier. You silently cheer as your hand wraps around her rabbit vibrator.

You turn it on and pull your mouth away from her. Natasha groans at the loss of contact but whimpers when she feels the tip of the vibe at her entrance. You push it in slowly until it is fully seated in her tight, wet, perfect cut.

She lets out a shaky breath as you slowly withdraw the toy and push it back it. You repeat the motion, picking up speed with each thrust. Soon, her hips are meeting it, and the sounds of lewd, wet fucking mixed with cries of your name are bouncing off her walls.

"Guess you had a few tricks up your sleeve, too." She laughs and rolls on top of you and sits up she slides down your body until you can feel her warm pussy right above yours.

Her walls grip the toy tightly, and her voice rises in pitch as she cums hard for you, back arching so hard that you're afraid she might hurt herself. "Fucking magical," you praise her as she comes down from her high. You slide up beside her on the bed. She's panting, trying to catch her breath.

"Think you have one more in you, pretty girl?" She asks you. "Yes, ma'am." You reply. She smiles at you before drawing you up to her lips.

She kisses you tenderly, rocking your hips together, creating a delicious friction between your clits. Your previous orgasms have both of you so wet, that you glide along each other with ease.

Your fingers dig into her thighs as you help guide her, pulling her tighter against you. You feel that familiar coil curling deep into your belly, and your head drops to her shoulder as you roll your hips to meet hers.

Natasha wraps a hand around your throat and draws you back to her. There is a glassy look of pleasure in her eyes, but she squeezes just enough to let you know that she's still in charge. "Cum with me." It's not a request, it's a demand, and who are you to deny her when she's making you feel so good?

You cum together. It's hard and messy and absolutely the most amazing feeling you've ever had. You collapse on the bed, and Natasha falls into you, both utterly spent.

Sometime later, when you can both feel your legs, the two of you make your way to the shower. After cleaning each other, you help her change the sheets, and the two of you get tangled in each other's arms and fall asleep.

..............

Six weeks later, you're slipping your hand into Natasha's as you follow her into the Hard Deck on a Friday night. This time, you're not meeting some guy from some app that you deleted ages ago. Instead, your girlfriend is introducing you to her coworkers.

You had already met Bob, her backseater, a few weeks ago because he insisted on meeting you because Nat, or Phoenix as she was known to her friends, couldn't stop talking about you.

Natasha quickly got the two of you a beer before weaving through the crowd to a pool table in the corner.

She takes her time introducing you to each one of them. You smile and wave and try not to be awkward.

"Well, what do we have here? If it ain't Phoenix." A male voice draws out. You turn, and you have to bite your lip to stifle a laugh. "Bagman." Natasha replies flatly. "Always a pleasure, Nix, but what I want to know is who is your friend?" The tall blonde asks.

"This is my girlfriend, jackass, so don't get any ideas." Nat says. "Babe, this is—"

"Jake. Right?" You say cutting her off. "Yeah? How did you know that?" She looks at you with a questioning glance. Jake looks at you equally, confused, trying to decide if you're familiar or not.

"Remember my date that stood me up a few weeks ago, the night we met?" You ask her.

"No. You're kidding." Nat smiles before belting out a laugh. Suddenly Jake's eyes go wide as he connects the dots on who you are.

"Son of a bitch, Bagman, I think I owe you a drink." Nat laughs as you and her other friends join in. Jake's cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Nat wipes a stray tear from her cheek. "But seriously, Jake. Thank you for being a dick. If you hadn't stood her up, I might not have met this amazing woman. Seriously, I owe you one." Natasha smiles at him before pulling you in for a kiss.

............

Eeeekkk! I hope yall enjoyed this! This was my first time writing for Nat! Let me know what you think with a comment or reblog!

Tagging those who might be interested: @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @desert-fern @wkndwlff @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @na-ta-sh-aa @katieshook02 @beyondthesefourwalls @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @horseshoegirl @djs8891 @roosters-girl @rosiahills22 @dempy @callsign-magnolia @alchemxx @gretagerwigsmuse @mshistorylover @bradshawsbaby @seitmai @kmc1989 @bcarolinablr @waywardhunter95 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @whatislovevavy @inkandarsenic @mak-32 @jiminie-08 @dingochef @laracrofted @skipchat @princess76179 @schoollover @cheyrenee @angelbabyyy99 @bobfloydsbabe @sunlightmurdock @sebsxphia @atarmychick007 @queenlmno @sweetwhispersofchaos @mamaskillerqueen @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @withahappyrefrain

#cherrycola27 #top gun maverick #top gun #natasha phoenix trace #phoenix smut #lt. natasha trace #natasha trace #natasha trace smut #tgm smut #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction #top gun 2 #red wine fall into me

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to-the-stars8 · 3 days

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Reviving Love

Jason Todd x Reader Chapters AO3

Chapter 10

Oh, my life is changing every day, in every possible way…

When Jason approached your door he heard that familiar song that brought back two vivid memories.

The first memory was the day he was supposed to help the art club paint the background for the school play. When he had walked into the auditorium with a basket of supplies, Bruce had insisted he bring it, and the song had been blaring full blast with a chorus of out-tune voices singing long. Yours’ among them. As he approached the stage, he finally saw you. You were knelt next to a huge wood tree, paintbrush in hand, and singing along to the lyrics.

And, oh, my dreams, it’s never quite as it seems—Never quite as it seems

He remembered suddenly feeling flush and stumbling to get all the words out of his mouth. All at once, he just found you so incredibly pretty.

The second time he had heard that song was his first year of high school, the autumn right before he died. It was homecoming and, after some begging since he was technically grounded, Bruce had let him go. Jason made a point not to tell you so it could be a surprise when he showed up. He found you standing off to the side looking heartbroken. When your eyes met it felt like one of those stupid high school romance movies. Where the room stopped and was drowned in a pink light with roses. When you kissed him he remembered how your breath smelled like cinnamon and your eyes sparkling in the lights.

Now, as he stood at your front door, he felt that same rush of feelings that made everything dizzy. Luckily, when you answered it brought back some of the senses he had lost while reminiscing. As you welcomed him in, the song still played.

I know I’ve felt like this before, but now I’m feelin’ it even more—Because it came from you...

“I’m sorry,” You said, walking past him to turn off the speaker. “I was a little lost in my tunes.”

“No worries, I like that song,” Jason admitted.

You turned to him, smiling. “You do?”

“Yup. I…danced with my prom date to that song.” It was a stretch of the truth, but the last thing he wanted was to connect the dots any further.

“Oh! I danced with my homecoming date to that song, too! I guess it’s pretty popular at school functions,” You laughed and motioned him to the kitchen.

That had been the first time you had referred to him, well the younger him anyway. When he entered the kitchen, you were leaning over a pot of some boiling pasta. Next to it was some sauce that he could only assume you had made from scratch with all the spices, herbs, and other things cluttering the counter.

“Do you mind trying some of this?” You asked, turning to look at him with a spoon in your hand.

Nodding, he stepped closer and put his lips to the spoon. It was awful, and he found it hard to tell you it sucked—Unfortunately, his face gave away his feelings. You laughed and it was beautiful.

“I admit, I’m not the greatest of cooks,” You said, putting the spoon down. “Do you cook?”

“I do, so maybe I could give you some pointers?”

You grinned. “Please?”

Everything you did was so sweet, and he was sure you weren’t even doing it on purpose. With every mistake you made or everyone he made, you laughed it off. You made the whole situation of essentially being the worst cook ever into something fun. You were kind enough to open your home to him, the worst person alive.

You were inching another forkfull of pasta towards his mouth, and, before he even entertained the idea of taking a bite, he said, “You know, if you keep feeding me, I’ll just keep coming back.”

The way you smiled gave away that he had said something good. Bashfully, you responded, “Well, what if I was trying to do that? Have you come back, I mean.”

Instead of saying anything, Jason took a bite of the pasta as he wiggled his eyebrows up and down at you. You took the hint and looked away so he wouldn’t see your blush. As you stirred the pasta a few more times, you wondered if he could hear how loud your heart was beating. You felt like an awkward teenager again.

“Um, we should eat,” You said, not sure what else to do as you moved around Jason to get to the bowls in the cabinet. “Or else I’ll be spending all night forking food into your mouth.”

“I wouldn’t complain—Hold on, let me get those,” He said, reaching above you to grab the bowls on the top shelf. He put one hand on the counter next to you, encasing you in, and pressing right up against your back to reach for the plate. As you sucked in a breath, you could smell him. Jason smelled of cigarette smoke and mint, an odd but welcoming combination.

As he put the bowls down, Jason stopped as you turned around. He hadn’t realized just how close you were, only mere inches from your lips, and he could have swooped down to seal in his feelings. Yet, he didn’t. You looked up through your lashes, eyes going to his lips, but made no move to kiss him.

“I should…” You trailed off, hoping he would do something.

A quick image flashed in Jason’s mind, one with you bent over the counter and him whispering just how pretty you were into your ear. As soon as the image came into his mind, he backed off. Smacking his face lightly when he turned away, he pulled his thoughts from his little head. He couldn’t get over how shallow it was to think of you in such a way, especially when couldn’t take that final step. It was too much, and he was terrified to be a disappointment to you since he had little to no experience.

You didn’t let him get away this time, though. You stepped around him, your fingers gingerly pushing his cheek to look at you, before stepping closer to him. He could feel your body press against his, and he had to think of every disgusting thing he had ever seen to not get hard. He tried focusing on the music he had insisted you turn on. This time, you looked down at his lips and then back up at his eyes, wanting him to know how you felt.

“I know,” You began, and Jason could smell just how sweet you were. “You want to take things slow, and I respect it—but, please, don’t tease me like this.”

“I…” Jason tried to find some excuse, but he couldn’t. Quickly, he said, “I’m sorry.”

You grinned, leaning up to press a ghost of a kiss to his cheek. “I hope this is okay?”

“Yes,” He breathed.

You smiled as you pulled away just enough to remember himself. You reached up, eyes not breaking away from his to make sure no lines were being crossed, to fix a bit of his shirt that had become wrinkled. “Do you think I’ll bite?”

“Maybe, can never be too sure in this city.”

You giggled. “I promise you I won’t. Unless you ask.”

Jason smiled and he saw you blush. He could do this, he thought, he could be with you. Maybe, he could figure out how to be good enough for you, too. In the background, he could hear Dreams playing again.

Then I open up and see the person falling here is me—A different way to be.

#jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #romance #bruce wayne #jason todd fanfiction #batfamily #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #jason todd red hood #jason todd needs a hug #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd fic #batfam #nightwing #alfred pennyworth #dick grayson

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wildandsmile · 9 hours

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commission idea🤌 vampire blue lock au characters like rin/sae/kuni/nagi etc and for kinks maybe like pinning/degrading ykwim i have a thing for neck biting hense why i love vampire au so much

Rian,Sae,Kuni,Nagi. Bllk boy when you tell them it’s ok to bite you

Total Wc. 1.1k

Warning. Oral F receiving, fingering, biting, choking, teasing, degrading breeding, riding, jealousy , sweet aftercare

An. This is my first time writing for vampires so...... yeah

Rin

He loses his mind, asking you a hundred times if you're sure about it, over and over again.

But once you reassure him, you're done for; he seizes every chance to take a bite out of you he can.

There's something about the way your blood tastes that sends his undead body boiling.

Oh, and he's a sucker for bloody kisses, the taste of your lips on his while your blood still lingers on the tip of his tongue, it turns him on like nothing else could.

And don’t even get him started on you guys are having sex he loves to feel you ride him while his fang are deep in your neck

You gasped out slowly, "Rin no more, pls I can’t take anyone ." As tears streamed down your eyes, and you couldn't grasp how long you'd been at it or how much blood you'd lost. All you knew was that weren’t leaving this room anytime soon."Come on, princess, be good for me, just one taste, please," he pleaded, not giving you any time to reply before sinking his teeth deep into your skin, watching as the blood rained down your neck."Fuck you taste so delicious and you feel even better," he groans as he rolls his hips, attempting to force yet another sweet orgasm from your already flowing cunt. He eventually lets go of your neck, but not before licking a long hot lap across your neck and pulling you into a deep kiss. It felt good, and the irony only added to your excitement as Rin began to thrust deeply into you. "Come on now princess, let me treat you real good for giving me such a great meal."

Sae

He's nothing like his brother; when you mention he could bite you, he's all in, almost immediately.

You even had to set a limit on how many times a day he could drink from you, fearing he'd drain you dry.

But oh, the teasing—he adores it, especially when he hears that little moan escape your lips. And after how wet you get just for his fangs

He LOVES going down on you and nibbling on your thighs; the taste of your blood and slick combined makes his head spin.

He's a HUGE aftercare guy, coming back with bandages, snacks, the whole shebang.

"Come on, slut, you can do better than that," he says into your already swollen cunt, sliding his tongue across your sloppy folds. You tried to pull away, but he pushed you hard into the mattress, keeping you in place so he could plunge his fingers deep within you and curl them in just the right position. "Fuck look at pet look at you getting our sheets dirty for me" he says as he begins to rub himself through his clothes. "Don't you think I deserve a reward, pet?" he asked as he itch the tip of your sweet spot, forcing you to melt in his hands and moan loudly.That must have been his answer because soon enough he’s licking long hot strips across your thigh before sinking his fang deep into your skin licking up all the blood that trickles down making sure not to waste a drop.“ You’re so addictive pet, but I think it’s time to give you what you want, ” he said as he wiped the blood off his face and licked it off his fingers. “I’m going to have to cancel my schedule cause we’re not leaving this room until you covered in my bite marks.”

Kunigami (Wild Card)

• Right then and there, he takes you up on that offer, no matter where you are.

• Throughout the entire encounter, he's a big bully, teasing and touching you, yet not allowing you to reciprocate.

• He revels in seeing you in that vulnerable state when he drinks your blood, something about your clinging to him that ignites him.

• His possessiveness leads him to bite you in places where there's no way to hide the marks.

• Despite his bullying nature and slight transformation, he still retains the same caring demeanor, as evidenced by your favorite food waiting on the table the next day with a note that reads, "Make sure to rest well today, doll."

"Didn't I tell you not to touch doll face?" he says, slapping your ass hard. "Only good girls get what they want," he says, and you whimper an apology before turning your face away so he doesn't see the fire burning your cheeks. But it doesn't last long as Kuni slides his hands up your skirt and rubs tight circles on your clit, feeling how wonderful and puffy you can become with just a few touches."You really are a dirty slut doll face is that why you covered up your bite mark cause you didn't want the world to know what a dirty girl you really were huh” he says as he peels the bandages off your neck, revealing all the bite marks you worked so hard to hide. "I worked so hard to paint this pretty neck like my canvas, and you cover it up," he says as he wraps his hands around your throat, hooking your panties to the side and sliding to figure in rolling them until you buck into him. In that instant, he sinks his fangs deep into your collar bone. "Guess I'll just have to cover all of you in my bite marks so you can't hide them again."

Nagi

Is lazy he just waves it off when you tell him and goes back to his video game

• However, should he catch you talking to another guy, especially another vampire, his demeanor takes a different turn.

• He's typically gentle about things, so don't expect too much until he's angered.

• When he does get upset, he becomes more animalistic, perhaps even draining you completely.

• Yet, he always apologizes the next day, showering you with the princess treatment, whether it's playing his game together or enjoying a nap side by side.

"Who the hell was that love?" Nagi asks, his eyes shining a venomous glow. You don't say anything because you know it will only add fuel to the fire, and that's how you end up locked in a mating press as Nagi buries his cock deep inside you kiss up to your cervix and his fangs even deeper into your skin drain you of what little you have. You couldn't tell if you were seeing stars because he pulled so many orgasms out of you or because of the blood loss."You’re mine, mine, mine," he says as he pushes your leg deeper into your chest and does a long lap across your leg before biting you and watching the blood trail down your leg. "You're mine, and I'm going to make sure everyone knows it, even if I have to bite and knock you up to do so."

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sideshow-cellophane-blog · 3 days

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Wyll's Enchanted Boots: Part 2!

Act 2, also

It didn't take long for the group to come back. Tav, Gale, Laezel, and Halsin had spent a long day in the shadow lands searching for hints about a child named Thaniel, and had made little progress other than adding to their map, felling some enemy creatures, and meeting with some harpers. They would head northwest the next day in search of that inn they mentioned, but their day had been cut short to exhaustion.

Tav and Gale collapsed at Shadowheart's tent to heal while the others went off on their own.

Halsin was used to getting looks from his new allies, but he felt more intense gazes as he headed back. He tried to meet eyes with Astarion and Wyll, who looked away too quickly. Both looked quite disheveled and flustered.

A smile tugged at his lips. "Did something happen while we were gone?"

"Hm?" Astarion answered too innocently. "Oh, nothing much. We scavenged a ruin nearby and found fresh clothes. Wyll found some boots your size, they're already near your tent."

Wyll snapped his attention to Astarion. "You-! Nonsense, Astarion brought everything back by himself."

"Don't be modest darling, not when you went through all of that hard work trying on the enchanted clothes."

"And here I thought you were the one to make those yourself. Seems I underestimated your mischief."

Halsin was too tired to mind whatever was going on between the two. He continued to his tent near the water and stripped off his armor piece by piece, sighing in relief to change into fresh clothing after a long day in darkness.

The eyes remained on him, as they usually do when he changes. But this time something different happened.

Something very different.

He slipped into a fresh pair of boots, new ones that must have come from their scavenging, and he turned to check on the others.

He felt the boots tighten - odd - and as he took that first step he nearly crumpled to the ground. A feather-like tickle ran up his soles, and another after that. His face twisted in confusion, then realization as the enchanted boots started to tickle every inch of his feet without mercy. He chuckled and looked to Astarion and Wyll, whose grins were as wide as the druid's. He did not see Karlach and Shadowheart also looking, momentarily distracted from her healing spell.

"Oh - OH!" He stomped his feet on the ground as the magic kept tickling, and his giggling picked up. Halsin crossed his arms over his stomach and crumpled to his knees. "Wha-HAHAHA! Whahat is thihihis?!"

"Got him!" Karlach cheered. "Poor Wyll couldn't handle those things for more than a few minutes. Isn't it fun?"

"He couldn't handle being grabbed by his love handles either," Astarion teased. He pinched Wyll's exposed sides and got smacked.

"I can't help my sensitivities," Wyll pouted. He fended off Astarion's teasing fingers as Halsin belly laughed harder and louder. "Stop! Let Halsin be the center of attention, will you? I've been tortured enough today."

"Hmph. I'd wager Halsin rivals even you Wyll! He's certainly as loud."

Halsin was fully lying on the ground, kicking his legs against the dirt. He tried to remove the boots, but they held tight to his skin. He flopped back over as they dug beneath his toes. A squeal escaped him, and he pounded a fist on the ground. How long had it been since his nerves were exploited in such a silly way? Had they ever been? Certainly no one was brave enough since he became an archdruid. He had forgotten how fun it could be, and admired how it brightened the team around him. They had all been so melancholy after the creche.

"Whoa," Tav breathed as they approached the hysterical giant behind Karlach. "Where did you guys find those?!"

"Astarion did earlier today near some ruins," Shadowheart said firmly. "He and Wyll were going at it earlier. It was his idea to give them to Halsin next."

"Stop dropping names," Astarion said nervously. "Stop dropping my name. Karlach brought them to his tent, after all."

"Yeah but he can't touch me without burning, unlike you Mister Giggles," Karlach laughed. "Halsin! You doing okay?"

Their favorite gentle giant was giggling so hard he could only gargle through half-started words and jumbled pleads. He kept his arms crossed over his stomach and rolled from side to side, kicking all the while. Tears of mirth were escaping the corners of his eyes.

"Well he isn't begging for it to stop," Gale said softly. "I hope that means he's enjoying himself?"

Halsin nodded through his hysteria.

"I don't think you can take them off when you're wearing both shoes," Wyll commented. "Astarion and Karlach got them off when they were wearing one boot each, but it was impossible for me when I was wearing both…So, uh, one of us will actually need to… step in here." He grinned at himself.

Tav groaned at the pun. "You guys were in camp tickling one another while we were risking our lives fighting shadow creatures? There was a massive fucking spider man out there, goblins, undead creatures...Godsdamn it all, why couldn't you wait until we were back?! I would have loved to see Wyll losing his mind! And Karlach can be touched with these?!"

"Oh yeah," Karlach sighed. "Wish it could tickle other parts of me…"

"We have to entertain ourselves somehow while you're away," Astarion shrugged. "And look! You have your giggley show now, don't you? I didn't think it would really be so easy to fall the mighty archdruid."

"IHIHI'M GOHOHOING TO KIHIHIHILL YOHOHOU!" Halsin roared. He wasn't really having a bad time. Their group had been through a lot in such a short period of time and he hadn't laughed so hard in many long years. Being the center of their delight wasn't a blow to his ego, if it brought a genuine smile to everyone's faces. "GeheheHET DOHOHOWN HEHEHEHERE!" He barely managed to sit up, his entire frame shaking with mirth. He took a swing for Astarion's legs, missed, and growled as he tried to crawl forward.

"Oh~!" Shadowheart giggled. "He's mobile, Astarion!"

"Oh fuck - I'll get those boots off if you don't retaliate! Wyll and Shadowheart already got their revenge on me earlier!"

Halsin lunged again for the nearest person and managed to grab Shadowheart's leg. "Nahahahat….FOR MEHEHEHEE!"

She squeaked and knelt down to stop his fingers from curling into her knee and subsequently thigh. "Hehey! I didn't do anythihihing!" Still, she didn't put up much of a fight when he pulled her down into his lap and started to squeeze her belly. She snorted and began to giggle with a very red face at being manhandled by the group's current crush - besides Tav - and subjected to torture.

"Bah," Laezel finally spoke. "To be stroked lightly and laugh in such a way - how human. And childish."

"Please, it's fun!" Karlach threw out her arms. "Gods, as soon as I can touch you all I'll show you how a proper tickle fight should go. You'll see Laezel, they're so much fun with friends! Wyll you'll have to be my first, I already know some of your tickle spots and your laugh is so sweet! Gods, we need to catch up with Dammon."

Wyll tensed at the idea of being under Karlach's mercy, giant that she was, and shuddered in secret delight. "I'd…I'd be honored to see your joy when that happens," He said honestly but very hesitantly. "As long as you show some mercy."

"I'll watch," Laezel crossed her arms, secretly admiring Halsin's mirth. "But involve me and suffer death."

"Now that I'll avoid."

"Hehehelp!" Shadowheart giggled. "C-cahahan't! Escahahahape!"

"GihihHIHIHIVE MEhehehe Astahahahariohohohon! HaHAHAHA!" Halsin bellowed out deep belly laughter again when Shadowheart stopped clawing at his hands, and instead reached back to claw his own sides.

"Well if I'm being thrown under the bus I may as well deserve it," Astarion sighed and cracked his neck. Wyll was easy to defeat in a tickle fight, but he knew Halsin would absolutely kill him. "Tav? Or Gale? Get his arms up, won't you?"

Gale smiled and cast mage hand. It hovered in front of Halsin and Shadowheart, and with some extra concentration it grabbed Halsin's hands and lifted them. "Alright, have your fun."

"With pleasure," Tav and Astarion both descended on Halsin with Shadowheart. Halsin fell backwards onto his back, cackling madly. Fingers fluttered and squeezed over his muscled stomach, into fleshy sides, creeping into his armpits, tip-toed and counted out his most sensitive ribs. He roared when - Tav? - squeezed that most sensitive spot just under his pectorals and into his top ribs. Shadowheart was pinching the softness below his navel. He rolled back and forth in a new level of hysteria he hadn't experienced in well over a century - it wasn't unwelcome, but he was going to get them all back for this. Namely Astarion, whose fingers curling in his armpits and skittering over biceps were sending electric bolts down his spine.

"FIHIHIHIGHT FAHAHAHAIRLY!" He yelled. "GAHAAAAA! AHAHAHASSES! YOU DARE ATTACK AHAHAHAN! ALLY?! HAAaaaaaaaAAAHAHA!"

"Here," Feeling more sympathetic than the rest, Wyll sat on Halsin's legs to try and pull the boots off - he needed some form of relief. "Don't go too hard on him guys, I'm sure they've had a long day."

"Mm, I did most of the work," Gale coughed. "I finally got my fireball spell back."

"Most useful," Laezel nodded. "But it was I who had the highest body count today. You merely helped weaken them."

"Well without my fireballs we would have needed to use a revive scroll, or Withers, with the way you charge into battle."

Laezel took a moment to give Gale the benefit of the doubt. When he didn't continue with an apology for his boastful ego she uncrossed her arms and hesitantly started to poke at his sides and ribs from behind in retaliation. She used softer touches that she observed being used on Halsin, and Gale's concentration was broken instantly to a giggle fit. He curled in on himself and bent over in vain to escape her vice-like grip, but she pulled him into her chest. One arm held his waist, and the other pinched and poked at it.

"Hehehey! W-what- Lae'zel! Hehe!"

"Say that I'm more efficient in battle than you are!" She demanded, gaining confidence now that he was reacting the way Halsin was. "Suffer my superior light hearted torture!"

"Aw, aw, guys!" Karlach gasped. "Guys! It's our first tickle fight and I can't even touch you? Fucking hells that sucks!"

"Want a boot?" Wyll quickly hopped off of Halsin's legs with the enchanted boots, just in time for the mage hand to disappear with Gale's concentration. Halsin was free. "We'll get you one of these days ourselves."

"Gimme one, nobody can keep me from being a part of this!" Karlach cheered and pulled on one of the shoes so she could be a part of the tickle fight that was breaking out.

Wyll sat beside her and watched the madness erupt. "I don't think you'll need these boots when we can touch you again," He teased. "You'll have our very willing team."

With his arms free and feet no longer being tortured, Halsin had grabbed the person who wasn't running away fastest: Astarion. And that was only because he was pushed into Halsin's body by Tav and Shadowheart to avoid that very fate. The spawn squealed in fear, girlishly swatting at Halsin's large arms as they wrapped around him. Halsin managed to keep the vampire on his chest as one extremely large hand covered the entirety of his belly, and scratched at it with vigor. Astarion choked on his first cackle, and then the noises he made would have made one think a hyena had entered their camp.

"Prank an archdruid, and suffer the consequences!" Halsin roared in victory. Astarion writhed like a flopping fish on him, but he held fast. "I'm coming after ALL of you!" His large fingers scuttled to Astarion's sides, then ribs, and avoided his swinging arms by going directly into his armpits.

Astarion's arms clamped to his sides, quite uselessly, and he practically jumped out of his skin. "NAHT THERE NAHAHAT THEHEHERE!" He arched his back into Halsin's chest and howled, stuck on his back. With both of Halsin's hands preoccupied, he finally managed to roll off him to the ground.

The escape attempt was stopped quickly. Halsin sat up and pulled Astarion into his lap, wiggling his fingers in those death spots all the while. "I'll be staying right here," Halsin assured him. "To teach you a valuable lesson!"

Gale made it to his knees in front of Wyll and Karlach, the unfortunate first victim of Laezel's merciless fingers. "Admit it or suffer more forced laughter!" She kept demanding. "I am the best fighter! Even now I have you lying defenseless beneath me in a hilarious fit! Suffer a most silly wrath!"

Unfortunately, Gale couldn't breathe, and therefore couldn't answer. Choked pleads and squeals and half-hearted attempts to get her to move were to no avail, and he couldn't laugh hard enough from the militant alien's insufferable tickle torture. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, and it was all he could do to keep his arms firmly pinned to his sides.

Tav and Shadowheart looked at each other with bright smiles. Shadowheart looked at Astarion, back at Tav, and had to shout over the maniacal cackling and howling laughter. "Get his knees!"

"No! Really?" Tav didn't hesitate. Too excited by the prospect of seeing Astarion giddy and out of control, they knelt down in front of the pair. Halsin had wrapped one leg around one of Astarion's, but the vampire's other kicked dirt.

Just before Tav could start squeezing the trapped knee, Shadowheart's nimble fingers wormed their way under their arms. Tav squeaked at the betrayal and was pulled backwards into the cleric's chest, just like Astarion and Halsin across from them.

Astarion was bent in half in Halsin's lap, shaking and cackling with giant bear fingers trapped and wriggling in his armpits. He started to slump over to the side and was pulled right back into Halsin's chest with a shout. He was shown a slight mercy as Halsin finally pinched his way down to Astarion's tummy again, and the poor thing snorted and twisted.

Finally, FINALLY, the squeezes and skitters slowed to pokes and slower vibrations that Astarion could breathe and gasp through. "Oh, oho, haha, heheh, f-fahack…Ah gahahads, yohou're evihihil!"

"Evil wouldn't involve breaks," Halsin pinched his hip.

"AHA!...B-break? You're not blohohoody stahahapping!"

"Look around you," He nodded to the group. Tav and Shadowheart were making each other squeak as they fought for control. Gale was wheezing as Wyll tried to talk Lae'zel into letting the matter drop. Karlach was in the middle of taking off the tickle boot, watching the group too. She gave Halsin and Astarion a wink. "I've never seen anything like it. You have made everyone so happy this evening. Even if it started at my expense, I intend for it to end at yours. Shared delight is such a wonderful gift like that, isn't it?"

"Hah? HAAAAAAHAHAHA!" Astarion swayed to the side and managed to fall over. Halsin was digging into his sides again, and focused both large hands on scribbling into the one now facing up. Astarion could only battle weakly at the stronger man's hands.

Tav and Shadowheart finally called a truce, and Lae'zel was showing Gale mercy only because he had started to wheeze more than laugh. Wyll patted his back as Karlach grabbed the boots to hide at someone else's tent. Halsin wouldn't be done with Astarion for a few more minutes. Noticeably, he wasn't begging for it to stop.

#bg3 #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #tickling #baldurs gate tickling #bg3 wyll #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 gale #bg3 astarion #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 halsin #bg3 karlach #bg3 tav #gn!tav #I wanted everyone to laugh in this one #Lae'zel is a ler though not sorry #she gives me “tickle me and die” vibes #can you tell how much i love making them laugh and happy in the midst of act 2's horror? they need it

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loverboybrightsideghost · 9 months

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#four episodes into s2 #my thoughts are it’s kinda clunky but i’m having so much fun that i kinda don’t care #i do think they (ineffable dudes) have their work cut out for them with nina and maggie though #i kinda wish we had seen more of an established relationship btwn nina and maggie even if it was only from maggie’s pov #(since she’s the one with the crush atm)#and also i wish they were more fleshed out and when they’re introduced we have firmer ground to stand on with their characters #but oh well i guess :/#i personally don’t think this season is bad at all i would just say it’s clunky tbh. like legos that don’t exactly fit #and even if it is bad at least it’s funny and gay like come on we have so little #bluebird.txt #good omens #good omens spoilers #every time i see posts about it though i’m like i haven’t even finished watching it yet but i feel deranged #i have seen some other spoilers that are not the BIG spoiler that make me go HUH‽!!??#atp i don’t care about spoilers anymore like i unblocked the tag and everything #but i just scroll quickly past anything i don’t know yet going ‘AAAAAAA WHAT NOPE DIDNT SEE ANYTHING’ lol #i’m having a good time w it tbh :D #it also does feel very separated from s1 in my mind but that makes sense and idk that much about that like i said before s2 and the show #in general are just a different thing than the book for me #it’s another cake now

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msgexymunson · 21 days

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The Ink Shop

Description: Desperate for a job, you answer an advertisement not knowing it's a tattoo shop. It's not particularly difficult work, except for one thing: having to deal with Eddie Munson.

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI or I'll tell your parents, fem reader, thick sexual tension, angst and smut. Fingering.

A/N: I finally wrote it! The teach me fic I've been day dreaming about forever. This will be part one of three, and honestly this is one of the hottest things I've written. If you enjoy it, please comment and reblog, it means the world to me.

8k words

Masterlist Part 2

Screwing your nose up in confusion, you look at the meticulously cut snippet of newspaper neatly attached to your resume with a paperclip. Sure enough, receptionist and administrator wanted for a place called ‘The Ink Shop’.

The outside of the building looks a little bleak, all decked out in black with frosted windows, but the fading lettering above does indeed spell out ‘The Ink Shop’.

Weird. This does not look like a printers.

You smooth down a minor wrinkle in your white shirt and open the door with unsure hands, the bell above ringing out loudly.

Oh.

This is not a printers. This is a tattoo shop.

The thought hadn't even crossed your mind. The noise is a cacophony of buzzing, rock music and loud conversation. Art hangs on every available wall, the wallpaper underneath a royal purple, faded over time. There's frames upon frames of predesigned pieces for people to choose from, and an enormous wooden counter, black and gouged with use, directly in front of the doors.

Taking a confidence boosting breath you march forward, pencil skirt stretching and heels clicking on the black and white linoleum, and stand by the counter. No one seems to have noticed your arrival, and a polite cough is not going to cut it.

“Hello?” Calling out to the shop, a devilishly handsome tattooed man in a ripped band shirt, black jeans and scuffed army boots turns his head. Loose dark curls escape a low bun and swivel with him, framing his animated face. He saunters over to the counter and towers over you, giving you an appraising look.

“You old enough to be in here sweetheart?” He asks, amused, as he points to the sign on the wall that states ‘Strictly Over 21s, no exceptions’.

“Yes?” You're trying to be confident but it comes out as a question, entirely taken aback by the strength of his stare.

“Oh, well then I'm Eddie,” he holds out a hand and you're forced to reach up to shake it, but to your surprise he doesn't let go. The skin is rougher than you thought it would be, and absolutely covered in small tattoos. “What is it today? Let me guess, cover up an ex boyfriend's name? I can help you forget all about him.”

The grin he shoots back is nothing short of predatory. All you can think of is that old childhood song, never smile at a crocodile…

“No, no, I'm here about the job?”

He looks genuinely surprised, taking in your outfit in another flagrant stare.

“Really? You?”

“Yes, me.” You respond, cheeks flushing in annoyance.

“Hey, Mac!” He calls over his shoulder and a big guy with a shaved head lowers his tattoo gun, glancing over at you both. “This girl's after a job?”

Mac stands up slowly and begins to walk over.

“You can let go now princess.”

Staring at Eddie dumbfoundedly, you realise his grip on your hand has softened completely. Whipping your hand away, you flash him a defiant eye. It's ineffective; he merely grins wider and winks at you, poking his tongue out playfully. You see a hint of silver, a tongue piercing.

“Hey there, I'm Mac, the owner.” another handshake, but gentler and brief. You introduce yourself and go to hand him your resume.

A phone rings on the counter and Mac shouts “no!” just as Eddie picks it up.

“Mac’s Roadkill Café, from your grill to ours.” Eddie delivers the line as smooth as silk, never taking his eyes off you. “Yeah, it's Eddie, of course. Oh, I'll tell him. Thanks.”

As Eddie turns to Mac he's given a small but effective slap to the back of the head by Mac.

“What did I tell you, stop answering like that!”

Eddie just grins wider and looks at you again, a fake pout on his full lips.

“You see that? Harassment in the workplace. Wanna kiss it better?”

Mac shuts his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, then turns to face you again.

“Are you immediate start?”

“Er, yeah. I've got my resume, and references here-”

“Listen Miss, if you can read and write, answer a phone, and put up with that-” he says, gesturing a thumb at Eddie, “then you've got the job.”

Thank God, two of those references were your best friend with different names. Stunned, you just nod fast.

“Great. Tomorrow morning. We open at 10am.”

Saying goodbye, you turn to exit, and risk one final glance over your shoulder. Eddie's still at the counter. A disarming wink, and then the door shuts behind you.

********************

So, not exactly what you expected, but a job's a job. After getting a degree, you'd assumed doors would open, but a string of coffee houses later and here you are. You'll take it.

It's 9:30 am, and you stand outside, wondering whether or not to try the door. Keen, but not too keen. It's a line you're trying to toe without much experience, especially with an establishment like this.

A pretty woman with an undercut and a butterfly neck tattoo stirs you out of your calculations.

“Hey, I'm Chloe. You're the new girl, right? Eddie bet you'd be early.”

Blushing at the entirely accurate first impression, you try to stop your nose scrunching in distaste. As if reading your mind, Chloe chuckles.

“Ah, don't worry about him, he's an idiot. Come on, I'll show you the ropes.”

Chloe is the piercer that basically rents a place in the shop, where she's been for around three years, she explains. There's also Julio, who does more realistic tattoo work, and Miranda who works part time.

Chloe turns out to be warm and welcoming, showing you how they book clients in, how to take payments, and the phone note system. It's straightforward work, stuff you'll master in no time. In fact, you feel comfortable enough by 10 am to sit at the counter on your own.

Mac arrives on time, giving you a quick check in and taking down all your information on a yellow legal pad.

“Do you not have a computer in here?” you ask, genuinely puzzled.

“Oh no, not yet. I don't know how to work those things, Miss.” Mac chuckles, and gets to his station to prepare for his first client.

At 10:45 am Eddie walks through the door as if he owns the place.

Your eyes widen at his brazen lateness, but no one seems to bat an eyelid. It boils your blood; to be that disrespectful and clearly not care. How could someone act like that?

“Hey princess, didn't think you'd come back,” he smiles, reaching for your hand.

Oh I'm not falling for that again.

You pull your hand into your lap, expecting trickery from him. A smug grin smears across his face at the gesture, as if he knew you'd do that. It makes you even more annoyed.

“Eddie, the book says you start,” you say, flicking through the tome in front of you, “ah, at 10 am today.”

“It's walk-in Wednesday sweetheart. There's no one here.”

He's got a point. Chloe had explained the tattoo artists work a shift of Wednesdays, someone is always available for walk-ins for small and pre designed pieces. Today is Eddie's turn, and he's right, no one is here.

“Well, there could have been,” you snark back, folding your arms.

He crosses into the shop, pushing the little gate open and stands next to you, arms crossed. The height you had is now lost, forcing you to look up at him.

“As far as I know, you ain't the boss of me. I suggest taking the stick out of your ass before you come here.”

Mouth falling open in outrage, you move to reply but he's already turned away.

“Oh, and princess, there ain't a dress code.”

He's gone, disappearing upstairs. Blushing crimson, you cross your arms as if you can hide the conservative outfit you're wearing.

You're beginning to see why Mac asked if you could put up with Eddie.

********************

Halfway through the day, you realise just why Mac puts up with Eddie.

“Hey! Seeing if I can book with Eddie?”

“Any appointments with Eddie?”

“Just checking to see if Eddie had any cancellations?”

It seems most calls are about him. As you check his schedule, it's not only fully booked for the next 6 months, they've even started a waiting list at the back.

“Any walk-ins?”

The words next to your ear make you jump bodily, almost losing your place on your chair in alarm.

“You scared me! No, I would have said,” turning to him, you're sucked into those deep brown eyes once again. “Why do you do walk-in Wednesdays if you're so… so popular?”

Eddie flashes a smile at you, full of self importance. “I don't know sweetheart, Van Gogh wasn't made to doodle!” Shouting the last part at the back of Mac's head, he turns to you. “We just divided the shifts, so it was fair, that's all. Why, want a tattoo?”

You roll your eyes. “No, I was just wondering.”

“Do you have any, princess?”

“Not that it's any of your business, but no, I don't.”

The laugh that rips from Eddie's chest is hearty and full of amusement.

“You work in a tattoo shop and you don't have any? That's practically blasphemy!”

The little bell above the door rings, and a nervous guy looks around before walking in. Before you see what he wants, you shout to Eddie's retreating back.

“Van Gogh was only famous after he died, you know!”

It's a little later on in the day; you've done a stock take, ordered more ink, and neatened up the consent sheets three times. The phone hasn't rung in a while, and you're bored out of your mind.

Chloe walks over, coat in her hand.

“Hey, how you getting on?”

“I'm good, just bored.”

She laughs, “it's not always this quiet, mid week and all. Mac's done for the day, and I'm heading off. You gonna be OK?”

You glance over to Eddie, who to your surprise is tattooing his own fingers.

“What, with the untrained monkey? I'll live.”

She laughs harder at that, “he's not so bad, once you get to know him.” Lowering her voice, she whispers, “he's good at some things, you know.” The conspiratorial wink fills in what she isn't saying. Cheeks flushed, you gawp at Eddie and back at Chloe.

“Huh? W-what, are you like, an item?” You ask, entirely thrown.

“Oh no, he's not exactly boyfriend material. It was just one night, but bloody hell. Anyway, it's not like that anymore, we're just friends now. Maybe you two should just, you know.”

A blush floods your face, almost reaching the roots of your hair. “I don't- I don't, do that.”

“I'm just saying, it's an option. It'd stop the bickering at least. I can sense the tension from all the way over there.”

Without a further word, she leaves you sitting on your stool, trying to remember how to breathe.

Right, let's just play nice.

Walking over to his station, you try to glimpse what he's tattooing.

“I thought Van Gogh wasn't made to doodle” you quip, trying to keep it light.

“This is different” he responds, not looking up at you.

“You know, that's a waste of a needle.”

Eddie turns the machine off and rolls his eyes at you.

“Who made you Princess of the Needles, hmmm?”

“Mac did actually, when he asked me to check the stock,” you reply hotly, folding your arms. Stopping for a second, you take a breath. Play nice, you're supposed to be playing nice.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to-”

Eddie turns the machine back on and continues with his impromptu tattoo.

“Can't you just be… professional?” You ask over the buzzing.

“Can't you just relax for a second? No ones here. Fuck, you need to get laid.”

Mouth dropping open in shock, you grab your bag and stomp out of the store, anger fuelling every step.

********************

Right, be calm, put together. You've dealt with worse people.

It's true. At the coffee shop you had on edge caffeine addicts shout in your face almost on a daily basis, but none of them got under your skin like Eddie did. Then again, none of them had spat truths like venom in your face.

Breathe. Just breathe.

Taking the leap, you walk into the shop, coffees and a tray of donuts in hand; a small peace offering. To your surprise, he is already at his station, sorting through ink pots.

You make quick work of handing out coffee and donuts to everyone, until you reach his side. There's plastic wrap around one of his fingers, you assume from his little tattoo session yesterday. It only serves to remind you of how tetchy you were.

“Morning Eddie.”

“So you came back. Tough little princess ain't ya? Remove the stick from your ass yet?” The grin he flashes you is wide but there's a bite to his words.

He's trying to rile you up, but you ignore it, thrusting a coffee at him.

“I'll be nice if you will.”

Tension laces the air as he stares at your outstretched hand, but he takes the coffee.

“I'm sorry Eddie.”

Opening the box of donuts, you gesture for him to take one. He does, stuffing half of it into his mouth.

“What about you?” you ask.

“Huh?” He mumbles through a mouthful of crumbs.

“Are you sorry…?”

“What for?”

Setting your jaw, your hand is about two seconds from slapping the shit out of him, but you need the money. So, you huff and walk away.

“What did I do?” He huffs, shouting it to the shop.

“You should just say sorry, you've clearly upset her.” Chloe calls over to him, a slight smile on her face.

“Yeah, how do you know?”

“You upset everyone Eddie.” She laughs, and stands to greet her first client.

It's a tense kind of day, with neither you nor Eddie backing down, only speaking to each other if absolutely necessary. By the time everyone's left it's just you and him again.

He's finishing up with a client, telling them about aftercare as they gush about their new ink. It's difficult to deny, the guy is talented. This phoenix tattoo looks like it's popping right off of the skin, the flames so bright and detailed you could swear you saw them move.

Once they've left, there's an awkward pause. Eddie breaks the silence first.

“Listen, I'm sorry sweetheart. I shouldn't have been rude to you. So I'll make you a deal. I'll give you a tattoo, for free, and we ask each other questions, get to know each other. What do you say?”

Smiling in spite of yourself, you turn to face him. “And why would I want a tattoo?”

He visibly relaxes at your grin, and flashes one of his own. “Come on, I'm the best. I promise I'll be gentle.”

“We close at six, so it'll have to wait.”

Eddie looks at the clock, and bobs his head with each tick. Twenty seconds later he turns to you, eyebrows raised.

“Fine, I suppose it is a bit silly to work in a tattoo shop with no ink.”

He punches the air with glee, forcing you to smile despite your better judgement.

“Well then, what are you thinking, got any ideas in mind?”

“I want a heart on my hip” he groans, putting his face in his hands, “hang on, before you judge, I want one like this.”

Pulling a book from your bag, you turn to the page neatly bookmarked. It's an anatomical heart from a textbook you own, a line and dot drawing.

“Oh.” Eddie's eyes light up, “that's pretty metal, actually. So, you just happen to have this on you?”

“No, I've been thinking about it for a while. It's… not what people would expect. And when I got the job here, I was working up the courage to get it. Carrying around the book was a promise to myself, I think.”

He busies himself with getting a stencil ready, the drawing supplied speeding up the process.

“Right, climb on up princess, show me where you want it.”

Blushing, you unzip your skirt at the back and roll it down slightly, shifting your blouse up high. The smile Eddie gives you is salacious, but he doesn't say a word.

“Right here?” Softly his fingertips graze you, making you jump. That simple act crackles over your skin in an electricity unknown to you.

“Y-yes,” you practically whisper it, face crimson.

“So, questions. Can I go first?”

“Sure” you nod, feeling vulnerable flashing this much skin.

“OK,” he starts, pressing the stencil down, “I'll start with an easy one. How old are you?”

“23.”

He nods, prepping the needle, “your turn princess.”

“How old are you?”

“Ah, copycat,” he grins, testing the gun, the sudden noise making you jump, “I'm 30 sweetheart. I know, I look younger.”

Act younger is more like it.

“I'm gonna start, you still alright?”

“Uh huh.”

“Atta girl. It'll feel like a scratch.”

He leans forward as his words burn your insides. Atta girl? Part of you wanted to tell him you're not a fucking horse, but another, deeper, part keens at the praise, kicking it's feet and twirling its hair like some dizzy schoolgirl.

The needle touches and you jump, but it's fine. It's easy. If anything, it's rather nice? You gasp at the feeling, your feet wiggling.

“Right, next question. Why here, why this job?”

The gun is moving across your skin, consuming all rational thought. You could lie, but a part of you feels like he'd know somehow.

“I thought it was a printers shop, or a copy place.”

He laughs briefly, but continues to focus on your new ink.

“I knew it. Pretty, innocent thing like you, wandering into this den of depravity? Too good to be true.”

Glazing over his comment, you think of a question to ask.

“How did you start working here?”

Eddie scoffs and turns off his machine for a moment, “you need to get creative, stop using my questions.”

“I really want to know!” You say, meeting his derisory look.

“Fine, quid pro quo and all that shit. Been here seven years. I begged. I begged Mac for an apprenticeship everyday for a week. He gave in, and here I am. Ask something else, that was boring.”

You wrack your brains, trying to think of something original, far too aware of the steadying hand that he's pushing onto your abdomen.

“What band is that?”

It's the only thing that pops into your mind. He follows your eye line to his t-shirt.

“Oh this? This is my band, Corroded Coffin. You should come see us sometime.”

“Oh, what do you play?”

His face lights up, “I sing, and play guitar. That's why my fingers are so rough-” he holds one up, covered in black latex, “-oh yeah, gloves.”

After you both share a chuckle, there's a breath of quiet between you, except for the sound of the tattoo gun.

“My turn,” he says, smiling at your hip, “I gotta know, are you a virgin?”

It's a miracle that he's as responsive as he is, since the question knocks you sideways. You sit up in shock, but he's already moved the needle off and away.

“You can't just ask that, it's… it's rude!” you splutter, face glowing red.

There's no trace of apology on his face. In fact, his grin only widens with your reply.

“I thought so. Don't worry, I'm not gonna tease you about it.”

Laying back down, you try to think of something to say, but it just doesn't arrive. He can read you like an open book and it's deeply unsettling, not to mention embarrassing.

“Your turn princess.”

“I don't want to play anymore.”

“Oh come on, I'm being nice! Ask me something.”

“Fine. What was your last wet dream about?”

To your dismay, he smiles yet again.

“You, sweetheart.”

Huffing, you cross your arms in annoyance. “Fine, don't answer.”

He's focusing on your tattoo, tongue poking out in concentration, “I'm nearly done, then you can go back to hating me.”

“I don't hate you. I've never hated anyone,” you respond in truth. Eddie's eyebrows raise, but he remains focused.

“Really? You must have had a much better childhood than mine.”

It's quiet for a bit. You're not sure how to respond to that, feeling the cloud of his memory hanging thickly in the air between you.

“All done.”

“Huh?”

He chuckles and points at your new ink, “take a look.”

It's beautiful. All line and dot work, like it was pulled from the book itself and glued to your hip.

“It's amazing Eddie. Thank you.”

The grin he shoots you is warm as he wraps your new ink and then removes his gloves. “No problem. I'll lock up, the sheets on aftercare are right there. But you knew that.”

Smiling affectionately, you take one and stand up, hovering for a second.

“Eddie what do I owe-”

“-not a damn thing. See you in the morning, princess.”

********************

The next few days were much more pleasant. Eddie was flirty, yes, but he seemed to understand when to stop. You had been nicer to him, biting back on the comments when you could. There was a rhythm to it, a constant dance of him flustering you and you annoying him.

Things really felt like they were falling into place. Until Eddie decided to cross the line.

Walk in Wednesday again, and the shop was dead. Julio was on shift, sitting in the back having a nap.

“Hey Mac, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what is it Miss?”

“Well, how do people know about our Wednesdays?”

“Mostly word of mouth. We handed out flyers before, but it didn't really pick up. Honestly, I'm thinking of scrapping it.” He shrugs, taking a sip of coffee.

“Before you do, I have an idea. I can design some flyers, get them out to the coffee shop I used to work at. It's by campus, I'm sure a few students would jump at the chance. You could offer a student discount, get them in the door?” You stare at him wide eyed, hoping he likes the idea. The little speech was one you'd practised about fourteen times before actually saying it to him.

He stares at you for a moment, then smiles. “You know, that's a good idea. I like it. Tell you what, you make it a success and I'll give you a raise.”

“Oh, thank you! I'll get on it.” You beam, and start planning the flyer.

Ten minutes later you have your head down, your attention entirely on the paper in front of you. The noisy shop was purely a background soundtrack, including the approaching footsteps. Then, there's a whisper, directly in your ear.

“What you up to, princess?”

“Fuck!”

You scream it out and jump so high you fall off your stool. Eddie's in bits, laughing so hard he's clutching his stomach.

“I'm sorry I didn't mean to,” he says, looking the least sorry you've ever seen a person look.

Clambering off the floor to berate him, your mouth flops open when you hear a rip. As you desperately turn your head to look down, you see where your pencil skirt has torn right next to the seam nearly up to your ass.

“Fuck's sake Eddie! What the hell am I gonna do!”

Hands shaking, you clench your jaw in panic, trying to frantically come up with a way to rectify it. Eddie holds his hands up to you as if he were approaching a wild animal.

“Just calm down princess, it's only a skirt.”

Pouting, you hit him on the arm.

“It's not just a skirt! I can't work like this, how can I go home and change, I won't be able to fix it and-”

Eddie smiles and holds one of your hands.

“It's gonna be OK, we can sort something out. You seriously need to chill, have a big O or something.” He chuckles, clearly meaning for it to be a joke, but it's hitting too close to home.

It's never happened for you. You've kissed guys, sure, but whenever they reach into your pants, it's either uncomfortable or downright painful. Even your own desperate fumblings haven't got you there. Most of the time you just feel stupid and awkward trying to touch yourself. So, you'd given up, thinking you're broken. That it'll never happen for you.

Tears well immediately in your eyes. He knows he fucked up, it's written all over his face. As he opens his mouth to speak you rip your hand from his grasp and run to the restroom sobbing.

It's stupid, it's so stupid. You know that, but the tears won't stop falling, face hot and scrunched as you sit on the closed toilet seat with your head in your hands. Your breath is heavy, gulping and wet; you dimly wonder if you can just stay here until the shop closes.

There's a gentle knock on the door.

“Sweetheart, can I come in?” It's Eddie, voice softer than you've ever heard it.

“Go away” you manage. It's shaky and pathetic sounding, but it's out there.

“I'm not going anywhere. Talk to me, you'll feel better, I promise.”

He tries the door, turning the handle before you get a chance to lock it. Jumping upright, you go to push him away but he grabs your wrist and pulls you into him. His embrace takes away that edge and pretty soon you're just sobbing into his chest.

As he strokes the back of your head, he makes shushing noises, his other arm wrapped tight around your shoulders. You're not sure how long you stay like that, in the warmth of his hold, his body pressed against yours. The tenderness calms you down until your tears stop, but he doesn't pull away.

After a while, he whispers, “feel a little better?”

“Y-yeah,” you say, voice returning to itself.

Only then does he release you, rubbing a thumb under your eye to wipe moisture away.

“I didn't mean to hurt you. You wanna go somewhere and talk about it?”

“I- I've never- I don't talk about- I-” you shake your head as if to clear it. A part of you wants to hit him, to shout at him, but his gaze is so concerned that you agree. Your shoulders slump, losing a bit of tension. “OK.”

Smiling at you, he whips his flannel shirt off, leaving him in a white vest, and ties it around your waist.

“For your modesty. Come with me.”

Puzzled, you follow him out of the bathroom and back into the shop where Mac is sitting looking worried.

“What's going-”

Eddie interrupts, “emergency late lunch needed, alright? Can you cancel my 3 o clock?”

Mac seems confused, but looks at Eddie's earnest face, and your emotional one, and nods.

“Not a problem.”

“Thanks, man.”

Before you can ask where you're going, he pulls you from the shop by the arm and across the street into a dimly lit bar, depositing you in the nearest booth.

“I'll be right back.”

If he's uncomfortable by his appearance, he doesn't show it. The way he strides up to the bar, it's as if he owns the place. It's remarkable, the sheer confidence he embodies like a second skin.

“Hey, John!” He hollers, knuckles knocking on the wood of the bar.

John appears, a gruff, stocky guy with a buzz cut and a sour face.

“What the fuck are you doing here.”

“Oh come on, you know you missed me.”

John's face screws into something akin to a smile. “What do you want, you little shit.”

“I love it when you talk dirty,” Eddie grins and winks, “two beers please.”

A grunt and a nod, and John puts the beers down on the bar. As Eddie reaches for his wallet John waves a hand in dismissal.

“Put that away boy, your money ain't good here. Besides, your lady friend looks like she needs it.”

You flush and tear your eyes away, embarrassed. Eddie walks back over and puts a beer in front of you.

“Eddie, we're still working I-”

“It's one beer. It's alright.”

You shrug and take a sip, nodding at the bartender, “he knows I'm upset, do I look a mess?”

Shaking his head so hard it releases some of his wayward waves from their confines, he tips his beer at you, before he takes a long chug.

“No,” he says enthusiastically, “you look just as pretty as you always do.”

Scoffing, you turn your eyes downward. Eddie ignores your response, instead pressing on what happened earlier.

“Sorry again,” he says, sounding genuinely distressed, "I don't want to see anyone hurt from something I said, least of all you.”

Meeting his gaze, you smile incredulously. “Oh? And why me?”

“Come on, don't make me say it.”

Staring at him, you fold your arms in an act of defiance. He rolls his eyes and looks at you.

“I like you. You're uptight, and mean to me, and a little conceited, but I like you. I don't want you to hurt. Can we just be friends? I'm a pretty good listener, you know? I can help.”

Heat floods your insides. Eyes scanning him for any sign of a joke, you come up empty.

‘I'm not conceited,” you counter weakly, clinging on to the familiar push and pull.

“And I'm the Easter bunny.”

Giggling, you take another sip of beer.

“Come on, friends? Talk to me.”

Sighing deeply, you fix your gaze at the table, forefinger tracing patterns in the condensation from your drink. “Promise not to laugh?”

“I promise.”

You can't tell how genuine he's being, as you don't dare look at his face, nerves controlling your every limb. His voice seems honest enough.

“I- I have a problem, something I can't physically do. You reminded me of it. It's not your fault.” Shrugging in an attempt to make this look less serious than it is for you, you take a pull out of your beer bottle once more.

“Wait, are you saying…” he chuckles a little in disbelief, “have you never… had an orgasm before?”

“Eddie, be quiet!” You urgently whisper, looking around the bar.

“No one's listening sweetheart, no spies in here,” he says in a low tone, hand reaching out to grasp yours. Your first instinct is to shake his hand away but he holds firm, rough fingertips rubbing against your knuckles.

“Eddie, I'm broken,” you whimper, voice breaking, “I can't do it.”

“Oh sweetheart,” he responds, chock full of emotion, “you're not broken. You are perfect.”

Pulling your hand away, you keep your eyes away from his, unwilling to meet that burning gaze of his. Unwilling to lose yourself in those sultry dark eyes.

“I can't do it. Anytime some guy tries, it hurts. I've given up to be honest. I just wasn't made for it.”

He laughs again, dragging his hand over his face.

“Fuck, sweetheart, the problem ain't you. Have you- have you tried, fixing it, on your own?” The last part is a whisper, you assume to protect your feelings.

“Yeah, but I just feel stupid and awkward. I don't know.”

There's a little silence between you as you both dwell in the suffocating fog of your confession, neither of you willing to clear it.

“Listen, this may be way out of your comfort zone, but I'm saying it anyway. If you don't like it, we'll forget it, and I won't mention it again.”

Finally looking at him, at the vulnerability on his face, you nod, not trusting your voice.

“I can… maybe I can help you. Show you you're not broken? As a favour between friends.”

You laugh mirthlessly and finish your beer. “That's a little more than a favour, Eddie.”

“We can keep it professional.”

You stare at him wide eyed. His messy hair and dark glittering eyes. At the way he slumps in his seat like a king or a delinquent, you can't decide which. At his taunt frame, the tattoos spackling every available inch of his skin. Your eyebrows raise of their own accord.

“Professional? You?”

“Yeah, me! I can do it, you know. I could make you come.”

A shiver forces its merry way down your spine at his words.

“You're really confident.”

“You haven't seen what I can do.”

Blushing hard, you attempt to control yourself. “Look, if we're going to do this, I need you to promise some things.”

“Ah, of course, you would have rules,” he grins, as he leans back and spreads in his seat, “continue.”

Searching your mind for a moment, you try to glean what you need.

“First of all, we need to be discreet, and professional at all times, clear?”

“As crystal,” he grins wolfishly, “anything else?”

“Yeah- I think,” you wrack your brains, trying to come up with something that would make this less intimate. Anything. But the roguish nature of his presence makes it hard to even think of a thing. Finally, your eyes widen at the idea that suddenly crosses your mind.

“Final rule. No kissing.”

He pouts, looking at your chest and back up, “no kissing anywhere?”

“N-no, no kissing on the mouth.”

Grin returning, he winks at you, a gesture that flips your stomach inside out.

“Kinky. Alright, deal,” he leans forward to give his hand to yours. A hand covered in ink and calluses. Roughness and tenderness.

You shake it.

********************

For the next couple of days, your little arrangement isn't brought up. A wild thought hammers itself into your mind; either he wasn't serious, or you imagined it.

Those theories are put to bed on day three.

After you let Mac know about the flyers and the bonus poster you designed, you sit back and enjoy the praise given to you. It's funny, the feeling of being told a job has been well done makes you happier than you care to admit.

Eddie turns up at the counter, whistling through his teeth. “Sweet looking flyers, how'd you swing those?”

“I designed them. I've got a degree in design and marketing, if you didn't know,” you sniff, rearranging the stationary on the counter to avoid his eyes.

“Maybe you could help me design some for my band. These look pretty metal.” He says, picking one up and looking at it closely.

“Maybe.”

Eddie leans in close, so close you feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek.

“If you're still up for our arrangement, I'm free tonight.”

Heat immediately flushes your face. Ignoring him entirely, you write your address and a time on a notepad, and thrust the paper into his hands.

“Covert, I like it. See you then princess.”

By the time 9pm rolls around you're a jittery mass of nerves, having changed clothes no less than four times, tidied your apartment, changed the bedsheets and paced so much you're surprised there's not a groove in the floorboards.

In the end you'd decided on a baggy band t-shirt and your sleep shorts. It was a rational calculation to make Eddie think you're just wearing what you usually would at home and therefore show you're not nervous. I mean, you are wearing what you'd usually wear at home. He didn't need to know about how long it took you to reach that decision.

The sound of the intercom buzzing sends your pulse into overdrive. Pressing the button, you let out a strangled “Hello?”

“Hey princess.”

“Come on up.”

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…

A soft knock at the door and you count to five, trying to remember how to breathe. When you open the door, you're stunned. He's leaning on the doorframe in a fucking button up shirt. It's black, and clings to him deliciously. His hair looks a little damp, loose around his shoulders, and his aftershave is making you feel dizzy.

“Oh, you didn't need- I mean-” you point at his shirt, and he looks down and chuckles.

“Just came from band practice. Took a shower, and this was clean,” he shrugs and shoulders into your apartment. “Nice place. Where's all your stuff?”

You look around at your sparse apartment. Everything in order, down to the fresh flowers on your tiny dining table.

“This is all my stuff,” you say, confused, “I don't like clutter.”

He chuckles, walking over to you. “No wonder I annoy you. I am clutter.”

He's close now, close enough so that you have to look up to see his face. His rough fingers ghost your arm, sending a wave of goosebumps over your skin.

“Nice seeing you in something casual. L7, right?” He asks, pointing at the t-shirt.

“Yeah, you know who they are?”

“I'm surprised you do. Thought you'd be a Mariah Carey kinda girl.”

You scrunch your face in distaste. “No, not at all. You don't know everything about me.”

He leans in, warm breath a whisper in your ear. “I know some things about you.”

Squirming hotly, you lead him to your room before you lose your nerve.

“So, the princess's bedchamber. It's nice,” he remarks, flopping down on the bed as if it were his own.

“Take your boots off,” you snip, folding your arms.

“Ah, there she is.” He smiles, but does as instructed. Once more he's laying back into your scattered pillows looking perfectly at ease. You, on the other hand, stand there, spine a vertical rod as you stare back at him.

“Come on then, sit down.”

Nervously you sit at the foot of the bed with your legs crossed.

“Now princess, what do you do when you touch yourself?”

Blushing furiously, you stammer out, “what, do you expect me to like, show you?”

He chuckles, diffusing some of the tension. “As much as I'd like that, I don't think you're ready for that kinda shit. Just tell me, what's your thought process?”

Staring at him for a little too long, you open your mouth and close it again. He rolls his eyes.

“Look, if you want me to help I'll help, but you gotta give me something here.” He looks as if he's about to get up and leave; your arm shoots out on its own accord, grabbing his leg to stop him.

“Sorry, sorry. I just, I've never spoken about this kinda stuff. I don't know about any process, I just… reach down and fiddle around?” You blush even more.

“So you don't like, watch anything? Or read anything?” He looks a little amused.

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“Porn, sweetheart.”

It's so blunt that you jump a little. “Oh no, I've never, oh no no.”

“Christ,” he whispers, “right, you can like, set the mood. Look at something to turn you on? It'd probably help you feel less awkward.”

“Oh. Right.”

“And do you ever just like, slouch? I feel like I'm back at school looking at ya.”

“Huh?”

“Just, come here.” He pats the little space between his spread legs and you hesitate for a second before you crawl over to him.

“How do you want me to sit, like cross legged or-”

He grabs your hips and spins you, forcing your back into his crotch.

“Stop trying to control every little thing,” he says in a hard tone, one you're too embarrassed to admit makes your insides tingle. Softer, he continues. “Look, if you're ever gonna get there you need to relax, stop trying to control it, and stop overthinking.”

“Great, all of the things I'm shit at.”

His laugh is loud, it vibrates into your spine. “I'll help you, OK? You trust me?”

“In a very limited sense of the word, yeah.”

“Lemme rephrase. You still OK to do this?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Just relax.”

You're not sure what you are expecting, but it certainly isn't his hands winding into your hair, fingertips rubbing softly at your scalp. It shoots tingles down your spine, your entire head feeling fuzzy and warm.

You stifle a whimper, biting your lip. His fingers stop.

“If you want to make noises, you can. Tells me I'm doing a good job. That goes for everything else too, alright?”

“Alright.” You whisper.

“You comfortable?”

“Yeah it's just- well-”

“Tell me.”

“I think it's your shirt buttons, they're digging into my back a bit,” you admit, feeling the sharp points down your spine.

“Easily fixed.” He taps your arm and you lean forward. Some rustling, and he throws his shirt to the foot of your bed.

“Now just chill sweetheart.”

His fingers begin rubbing at you again, thumbs sinking low to pop at the bubbles in your neck.

“Fuck, that's really nice.”

He hums appreciatively, working his hands lower and dropping them to your shoulders. The massaging continues, and you feel yourself melting, your body moulding into his. Your legs, once ramrod straight, have bent a little and parted of their own accord, the muscles loosening. Even your breathing has slowed.

“That's better, atta girl,” he says and you whine at the words, a little pathetic mewling sound that tumbles past your lips.

“Oh, you like that, don't you?” The smile is evident in his voice, a smug tone smeared liberally across each word.

“You, you're so-” you begin, but his hand drags across the front of your shirt, just over the tops of your breasts.

“I'm so what?” He whispers in your ear.

“So, so arrogant,” you huff. He laughs, a husky chuckle, and dances the tips of his fingers over your clothed nipple. Gasping, you grasp at his thighs either side of you.

“Yeah? What else am I?” He says, nibbling at your earlobe.

“You- you're cocky, and- and self assured- Oh God!”

Rudely interrupted by him tweaking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, you swear, back arching off of him for a moment.

“You know,” he says in a gravelly tone directly in your ear, “those are pretty much the same thing.”

“You drive me crazy,” you huff, squirming a little against him as his hands explore your chest over your shirt.

“Good crazy or bad crazy?” He smiles, then bites softly at your neck.

“I- I haven't decided yet.”

“Good. I can say the same about you,” he admits, his hands trailing lower, pulling your shirt up so he can stroke at your bare sides. The touch of fingertips on your skin sends a river of sensations through you that run deep into your core.

“Are you going to- what are you doing, exactly?” You breathe, starting to move against him.

“I'm warming you up sweetheart. Why, don't you like it?”

Genuinely curious, you try to ask what you want to know without using the words.

“N- no, I do. Do you have to, erm, get warmed up? When you, you know.”

He lets out a little huff of a laugh. “Guys are a little less… complicated, than girls. For the most part.”

“Oh. OK, so you can just. I mean, you just, get excited?” Your breathing becomes more ragged when the tip of his thumb grazes the underside of your breast.

“Sweetheart, I got hard seeing you in these little shorts.” Running a finger down your stomach, he lightly pings the elastic of your sleep shorts as if to accentuate his point.

“Really?”

There's no denying it when he moves his hips up and you feel his solid bulge press into the small of your back.

“Really. Can I take this off?” He asks, twisting the hem of your shirt in one hand.

“Yeah.” It's a whisper. You're a little scared of being bare chested, but not having to see his face helps. Plus, he's wound you up so much you're on the verge of begging for his touches, pleading for more.

He guides your top up, up, up, revealing you slowly. Coaxing it over your head, you move your arms up so he can remove it. It ends up in a heap on top of his shirt. One tattooed arm wraps around your waist, pulling you toward him more, his hardness pushing against your ass.

His breathing is unsteady as he grinds his hips, pushing onto you further. Gasping, your fingers are vices, firmly attached to his thighs in a vain attempt to anchor you.

Suddenly his hand is winding into your hair, tugging your head aside so he can run a fat tongue across your neck. You shudder at the sensation, feeling the hard ball of his tongue piercing against your throat When he takes his pillowy lips and sucks at the spot between your neck and shoulder a moan slips out. Grunting in approval, his hands are on your bare tits, fingers pinching at your hardened nipples.

“Holy hell!”

He laughs, running rough fingers down your body, circling your new ink, then dipping down past your waistband. Those tattooed fingers barely brush your pubic hair, teasing you, then glide back up to your stomach.

“Eddie, please.”

Your voice is small, not your own. Eddie groans low in your ear, rubbing his length into the fat of your ass.

“Fuck, princess, I like you saying my name like that. You want me to touch you right here?” he says, pressing down hard over your clothed clit.

The sheer relief of having his touch where you need it gets you close to tears; a gulping shudder of a sob rips from deep in your chest.

“See, you're not broken, sweetheart. Can I take these off?”

Shaking, you hook your fingers into your sleep shorts and pull them down your legs, air hitting your most intimate area. Eddie huffs in your ear, his inked hands rubbing up the insides of your thighs.

“You're so fuckin’ sexy.”

Before you can retort, his fingers dip down to your entrance, gathering your slick. You can hear how wet you are, but it's not in you to think about it. You can't think, only feel.

When his fingers run up and start rubbing circles into your clit, your response is visceral. Bucking up, you chase the feeling, searching for even more.

“I'm gonna slip a finger in, alright princess?”

You nod, waiting for the pain, wincing before it even starts.

“It's OK, you're fine, you gotta relax baby.” He strokes your stomach with his free hand, pressing kisses to your temple.

The tip of his finger breaches you, and the pain doesn't come. Your soaking wet cunt invites him in, warm and pulsing with arousal. He slips it into the hilt, his palm pressing into your clit, and your moan is long and loud. It's never felt like this. Never has it stoked a fire in your gut, bubbled your insides like pop rocks and Coke, turned you into a writhing mess.

He fucks his finger into you, slipping a second in to join the first, and you move your hips, chasing the building tightness in your belly. Each thrust of his hand has you bucking, and in turn rubbing against his member trapped within its denim prison.

“That's it, good fuckin’ girl.” His voice is strained, as if he's trying hard not to lose control.

“Eddie, oh fuck, f-feels so- good, yes, please, please-”

You're not sure what you're begging for, and Eddie doesn't seem to be in any state to ask, but it doesn't matter. His fingers fuck into you in earnest, stroking hard against some spot inside that has you babbling and quivering around him.

“God, you're so tight, this little cunts gonna drive me crazy. So wet and perfect, Jesus Christ.”

The feeling seems too much and not enough, and it grows higher and higher, flooding your body with a pleasure so intense you're sure you black out. The only thing you're aware of is your voice screaming out his name as your body thrusts wildly into his grip. Finally, it dissipates, your body melting against his form, sweating and spent.

You take a breath, and another, trying to gather your wits enough to speak. Eddie speaks first.

“So sweetheart, everything you dreamed it would be?” He asks as he strokes your hair.

“Better. Fuck, Eddie. Thank you.”

“Anytime. Seriously. Any. Time. Day, night, weekends, holidays-”

You giggle, slapping his thigh, and sit up, grabbing your discarded shirt to cover up.

“Sorry, that was probably a little er, frustrating for you.” You say as you glance at his bare torso, drinking in the sight with your eyes for the first time. He's lean, but ripped, a faint sheen of sweating making his tattoos glisten in the low light.

“What do you mean sweetheart?”

“Well, doing that, not getting anything in return...”

He chuckles lightly, “Oh I wouldn't say that,” he glances down, gesturing to his jeans, “full disclosure, I came in my pants.”

“Really?” your eyes widen, staring at him with disbelief.

“I ain't lying. Wanna check?” He waggles his eyebrows at you, making you laugh again.

“You seem better already. Right, I better go.”

Shoulders deflating, you pout, “I suppose you better.”

“Hey don't look at me like that. I hoped that helped. Sleep tight, drink some water. I'll see you tomorrow princess.”

And just like that, he leaves. Of course he leaves, it was just a deal you struck, nothing more. A favour. you wipe stray tears from your eyes and try not to focus on the sound of the front door shutting.

As you collapse on the bed, exhausted, you think about his hands, his words. There's something screaming inside, telling you you're playing with fire, but as you drift off you can't find it in you to mind.

Taglist

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n @choke-me-eddie @littlebebebunny @big-ope-vibes

#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #tattoo artist eddie munson #tattoo artist!eddie #teach me/show me Eddie #eddie my beloved #eddie x fem reader

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bonewreath · 1 month

Text

so, your best friend accidentally sent you a video of her masturbating. what now?

18+ below! smut smut smut!

ellie’s bedroom is heavy with the scent of sex, her fingers still pruned from her own wetness. she’s spent the last few minutes tense and panicked, too paralyzed with anxiety to get up and put some clothes on, and she’s considering what she’ll change her name to and where she’ll move to start a new life when you finally, finally text her back.

it’s okay. give me a second to reply, alright?

the weight on her chest eases a bit at your reassurance, but a new spark of uncertainty flares up at the second part of the message: give me a second to reply. jaw tight, she sends you a question mark, then follows up with you don’t have to respond. it’s probably better if you don’t?? again i’m so fucking sorry.

but as the minutes tick by, slow and lazed, she starts to panic again. her mind conjures every possible response you could send her next: an angry thesis statement on why ellie’s a disgusting pervert, a seething comment about how stupid she must be for sending a video like that so carelessly. would you ever look at her the same way? would things ever be the same?

all it takes is another notification from you to make every imagined worst-case scenario evaporate. ellie clicks the notification as soon as it pops up, chewing on the soft flesh of her inner lip.

it’s a video.

you sent her a video.

she hits the play button without a second thought, heartbeat thudding in her ears.

“i know you’re probably embarrassed,” you say, head tilting as you frown with sympathy. a blush paints ellie’s cheeks bright red. “but i need you to know how wet that made me.”

holding the camera up, you extend your arm outwards to reveal the rest of your body - your naked body, ellie realizes with a shock. she sits up in bed, back ramrod straight, her phone shaking as a nervous tremor strikes through her. but she can’t look away - not when you’re tracing a hand down the soft curves of your body, fingertips grazing over one peaked nipple, then moving lower, lower. ellie swears she’s forgotten how to breathe.

you release a pleased hum. “i liked watching you touch yourself,” you say, so matter-of-fact. “i hope you like watching me.”

and she does, god she does. she settles back down onto the mattress, eyes never leaving the screen as you work two fingers through your soaked folds. you moan and sigh and keen, rolling your hips down against your own hand, the wet sounds of your pussy so intoxicating, ellie can’t believe she’s gone her whole life without seeing you like this.

and it might be wrong, the way her own hand drifts between her legs to find herself still hot and wet, but she doesn’t have it in herself to care. she dips a finger inside of herself as she watches you ride your own hand, grinding down on your palm as your fingers work in and out of your cunt. she finds a rhythm that matches your own; soon enough, you’re both gasping at the pleasure building beneath your waistline. with every roll of your hips, ellie’s cunt tightens, flooding with slickness - as if she could get any wetter.

as you get closer to the edge, your grip on your phone falters and the camera starts to shake. ellie hisses and curses under her breath when your phone captures the blissed-out look on your face: eyes rolled back, brows pulled together, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

“oh - oh my god,” you stutter, panting, “i’m gonna come, ellie.”

ellie. ellie ellie ellie.

“holy fuck.” ellie’s pussy clamps down around her fingers at the sound of her name on your lips; her thumb glides over her clit just right, and she didn’t think she’d come this fast but she does, her vision exploding into blinding white as her orgasm crashes into her. it’s the only time she looks away from the video on her screen - but she certainly hears your orgasm, all high-pitched moans and ragged breaths, your cunt gushing onto your fingers.

when ellie finds the strength to open her eyes again, the video is still playing. you’re catching your breath, chest shimmering with a thin layer of sweat. you look at the camera and smile. ellie thinks she might pass out.

“thanks for the video,” you say, lifting your free hand up to wave.

when you bring your fingers to your mouth and purse your lips around them, sucking them clean of your own come, ellie’s sure she’s going to pass out.

and then, she decides, she’s going to fuck you stupid.

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feyascorner · 3 months

Note

Okay perhaps this sounds odd but imagine Astarion starts to disassociate while intimate with Tav and so he uses their established safe word, only to be bewildered when Tav actually listens to him and stops and asks if he’s okay and tries to comfort him because nobody has cared that much before 😢

OH GODS WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME (i love it) warning for suggestive content :)

For as long as Astarion's been genuinely intimate with you, for no other reasons but simply because of the affection the two of you hold for one another, he has always been in control.

It soothes him, in a way, to be on top. And as much as he enjoys watching you come undone beneath him, there's a more frustrating reason behind why he always feels the need to be the one to push you down onto whatever surface he deems decent enough at the time. From above you, he can see every little twitch in your body, every shift in your expression, and most of all, he can control what's happening, unlike his centuries spent as a seductive tool for Cazador's own needs.

He knows you're not like those fools. He knows you're different, and you're special to him. But the gnawing voice in the back of his head always forces him to pull you in, to hold you closer, to make love to you.

It's fucked up in so many ways.

"I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel."

But when you look up at him with those imploring, loving eyes, the voice seems to go quiet. He swallows the dryness of his throat, unable to think of anything but how wonderful your touch feels on his skin, and he thinks he could drown in this forever. He's putty in your hands, whether he wants to admit it or not.

"Well? Don't be a tease just standing there, darling."

In what feels like minutes, he's a mess. He's making sounds he shouldn't be making, fingertips digging into your hips as if they're the anchors keeping him from finishing too early. He breathes heavily into the crook of your neck, groaning when you caress the sharp tip of his ear between your fingers.

The only thing keeping him from spilling is the impending embarrassment he'd feel for doing so this early on in the night.

Then, everything stops.

"You're so beautiful," you whisper.

They're only words. They're not ones he's heard little of---in fact, he's heard it too much in the past two hundred years. In an instant, memories of the nights he spent under strangers, forced to shove his mind into its darkest corners just to get through their own pleasures, flood his consciousness. The sickening taste in his mouth afterward, and the need to rub his skin till it goes raw were not uncommon. It was routine. A sick part of his life that he'd rather forget.

You don't mean it the same way they did. They only said things like that because that's all they could say. They didn't know him as anything but the husk of a body he resided in. He knows you are saying the words to him. Not to his body but to the very person he is.

But the word comes spilling out his mouth, and immediately, you freeze.

You actually stopped.

Of course, you would. You're you.

"Are you okay? Did I do something?" you reach to cup either of his cheeks, and he stares at you as if you're a star that's fallen from the sky. He blinks, slowly.

"I don't know, I just---" he searches for words. "--you haven't done anything wrong, darling."

You wait for him to finish patiently. Gods, he doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve you.

"I only remembered something I'd rather not," he plasters a crooked grin on his face. "It's quite alright. We can continue now if I haven't ruined the mood."

You pull away from him, and he fears you'll leave.

Moments later, you return with a glass of water. Wordlessly, you hand it to him, and he only stares at it, confused beyond belief. Only once he notices the way you gesture to the glass does he drink it, and you finally climb back into bed, lying down beside him.

"Come here," you open your arm, motioning him to come closer.

"Darling, as much as I'm all for experimenting, that's a strange position to have sex in."

You smile, shaking your head. You don't explain any further, only continuing to hold out your arm.

Hesitant though curious, he slowly lies down beside you, his head just above your chest and slotted between the space below your chin. With gentle hands, you pull him closer and toss the blanket over both of your bodies.

It's warm. Strange, but warm.

"You don't have to wear a mask with me," you whisper.

His eyes grow wide, and his chest stills. He doesn't have many tears left after 239 years, but there's an unfamiliar squeeze in his chest that tells him if he were still 39 and alive, he might have. Astarion wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face into where he can hear the steady beating of your heart.

Later, when your eyes begin to droop, he mumbles.

"Tell me I'm beautiful again."

"You're beautiful," you say softly. "With or without your pretty face."

You might be imagining it, but you feel him smile against your skin.

#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #bg3 #fluff

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wolfiesmoon · 4 months

Text

When you wear their clothes

genshin men x gn!reader

characters featured: xiao, neuvillette, wriothesley, zhongli and itto

i've been dreaming about genshin a lot lately idk this game has possesed me or smth so i feel like i'm required to write this? Also DAMN im rusty with genshin characters so i apologise profusely for any ooc-ness

(also wrio's is kinda suggestive!!)

XIAO is confused. Why on earth are you wearing his clothes? He isn't opposed to it specifically, but doesn't understand the appeal or the reason why you do it. "My clothes don't fit you properly. What's the point?" he asks, completely straight faced. You smile. "It reminds me of you when you're not with me!" He just scoffs and says he doesn't get your strange habits before moving on with his day. Somehow though, the image of you in his clothes won't leave his mind for the rest of the day. "Dammit..." he mumbles under his breath, barely audible when nobody's around. Don't bring up his pink cheeks in the evening when he comes back to see you, he will not elaborate.

Similarly, NEUVILLETTE is also confused. This must be another human thing that he isn't familiar with. What does wearing their lover's clothes mean to humans? "Oh, I just missed you... your clothes remind me of you, you know?" You explained when he questioned you on the matter. "Oh, I suppose that makes sense. Do you want more items related to myself for when I am absent?" He asks. While you do want to know what items he would bring you, you turn him down. "I like your shirts the most, because they smell like you and feel like your hugs." He doesn't know why exactly, but he has the urge to kiss you all of a sudden.

WRIOTHESLEY feels distracted when he sees you in his clothes from time to time. He gets busy a lot, so the moments he gets to spend with you feel extra special. But, what is he to do when you look so positively yummy in his shirt? "Hey, mind taking my shirt off? It's... sort of distracting." he admits, taking a sip of his tea. "But, wouldn't it be even more distracting if I took it off now?" you asked, feigning an innocent look. He almost spit out his tea. "I did not mean it like that...! Surely you're just teasing me." You just smiled mischeviously in response, taking a sip out of your own cup. "That's what I thought. I know that look."

ZHONGLI thinks you look odd in his clothes. Odd, but not bad by any means. You actually look quite endearing. "I'll make sure to commit this to memory." he says calmly, sitting down next to you on the bed. "You say that every time you're with me." you poke his shoulder gently, smiling up at him. "That's because everything about you is worth remembering, I suppose." Still, he thinks this specific memory is one he will treasure for a long, long time. "Oh my..." you felt heat rushing to your cheeks at his words, hugging his arm. Actually, he changed his mind, you're positively adorable in his clothes.

You're basically asking to get attacked with a flurry of kisses if you wear ITTO'S clothes in front of him. That's like, a show of affection! That you're totally his and no one else's! And that also means it's a cause for celebration! "Agh, Itto- Stop!" you try and fail to push his face away. "Hehehe..." he gives you a bright smile and places a big ol' kiss on your lips. "You should wear my clothes more often!!!" he felt proud of himself, puffing out his chest. "Ummm, whatever you say..." you're kind of worried that if you do that, your face will never escape his lips.

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screampied · 2 months

Note

true form sukuna trying to be gentle with reader bcs he’s aware of the size difference and his (two) big cock 🤭🤭

Ⳋ᧙ : sukuna going gentle while you try to take two of him

warnings. fem! reader, true form sukuna, size difference, praise, dirty talk, cowgirl, mdni.

“…. gentle,” he grumbles with a relaxed pout pressing against his lips.

you hovered over him, staring at the curse with a doe eyed look. he had his arms crossed, his lingering towards every inch of your body before muttering, a hand grabbing onto your waist. “princess. ya can barely take one, what makes you think ya think…”

“please ‘kuna,” you huffed, leaning in to sneak a kiss near the side part of his mouth. the stare he gives you makes you throb.

you’re so drenched prior, eagerly rocking against his bulge just to earn a choked grunt from him. “i can, jus’ go slow.”

“slow she says,” he clicks his tongue, giving you nothing more but a mere eye roll. he was always sassy — especially with you. “as you wish. hold onto me, pretty. don’t let go. and,” he pauses, bringing a thumb towards your chin. “look riiight at me. i wanna see that face of yours when you get stretched.”

“okay.” you breathe, wrapping both arms around his neck.

his chest was bare, your pupils found itself skimming down his perfectly chiseled body. the darkened black marks that decorated parts of his body… similar if not equivalent to tattoos. he gives you another stare, and it’s more smug.

sukuna’s so thick, he watches as your maw open a bit before you let off a moan.

“yeahh,” he gruffs, and it’s in more of a question. you slump onto his chest, still sinking down on his length, feeling the girth of his cock.

his own jaw tightens at the grip your pussy has. slow, you went slow, you felt each and every inch relax your walls.

as if he wasn’t already deep inside you just merely moments ago. he chuckles at you burying your face into the crook of his neck.

“oh. ohhh. don’t do that, i want you to look at me, princess. you getting shy on me? pity.”

“i’m not,” you whined, each time he sank further and further into your walls. it felt so good, you squeezed your eyes closed for a brief moment, dragging a few nails down his thigh. “fuckkk.”

“sensitive little thing,” he purrs, and his eye contact remained on you….the entire time.

sukuna slides a tongue against his lips, and he leans back in such a manspreading slutty position.

you found yourself pulsing profusely, even if it was just from his body language let alone. “ya do this every time. how’s it feel?”

a moan departs from your spit-glossed lips as you sat up to face sukuna again, and he tilts his head frivolously.

“good. good,” you utter, the stretch nearly leaving you speechless.

a second skips before you swallow a lump in your throat. the moment you felt his base thwack against your cunt, you shuddered in desire. “that’s both r-right?”

“…nah,” is all he says after a long silence just to mess with you. you end up pouting, feeling the tips of your ears rise up to a scorching hot temperature. “babygirl, that’s just one. did ya already forget?”

“oh y-yeah,” you stuttered, hearing sukuna shuffle a bit. you moan, feeling his other shaft prod against your hole. you scrape your teeth beneath near your lip before letting off a sweet moan for the curse to hear. “you’re so f-fuckin’ big, ‘kuna.”

“for you, always.” he whispers in a rough tone, snaking an arm around your waist again. he cups your chin, making you gawk deep into his eyes before pressing a wet kiss against your mouth. “tell me. if i praise you some more, will that make you more soaked for me?”

you open your mouth, but another moan comes out and he snickers.

“tch. silly little girl,” he shakes his head, coating another kiss — multiple, all over your mouth until your lips start to quiver for more of his aching touch. “taking both, sooo good. think i perhaps underestimated you, huh.”

his words sent your mind into a frenzy.

you were indeed soaked, drenched even. being stuffed, gradually having another one of his cocks slow its way into you was nearly enough to make you drool.

“s-sukuna,” you panted, legs of your started to feel a bit rickety against the king of curses. “praise me some more, please.”

with a swift eye roll and a smirk, he brings his arms around you, wrapping them around your frail body.

“oh … princess, you’re doing so well for me,” he hums, and your pussy continued to clutch all around and against him.

both parts of him, you moaned, eyes fluttering before he gives you a head pat. that earns a cute noise from you as you lean into his touch, a smile curling amongst his pink lips. “always know how to take it. like the good pretty girl you are f’me.”

you whimper, stuttering hips making a weak attempt to rock against him before you gasp. with your legs unendingly shaking still, you felt that familiar surge pulse through you.

clinging onto sukuna, you sob out a sweet moan before that’s when you don’t even realize you just came, again.

“hm,” he raises his brows, fingers of his running down your spine as a way to smooth you. sukuna’s thigh starts to bounce idly before he looks down at the sticky mess, your sticky mess. “is that it? what happened to your little confidence, pretty girl?”

breathless pants ran out of your mouth as your ear pressed against his chest. your eyelids were low, feeling sukuna’s dicks twitch inside of you, you moan as a response.

“oh, how pitiful,” he murmurs in a raspy tone, bringing you closer towards his chest. his warmth made you sigh, and he then leans in to kiss your forehead. he grins once he spots that same pout of yours. “came too early, did we? that’s okay. just means you need a little more training.”

“s-sorry.” you sheepishly reply, your face practically being smushed against his pec.

sukuna gives you a leer before humming. “awh. don’t be sorry,” and you’re surprised once he lifts you up, making you get off of him before you now find yourself lying flat on your chest. “let me show you how it’s really done, princess. just liiiie down and keep that pretty face facin' forward. yeah. good girl.”

#★vegasbaby.#sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #anime smut #female reader

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angelltheninth · 4 months

Note

I am now curious what would alpha sukuna do when he get his rut but yuji simply won’t allow him to take control of his body? Sukuna as normal is feral and menace what about sukuna in his rut..but trapped.

Oh good lord. I'm having THOUGHTS.

Pairing: Alpha!Ryomen Sukuna x Omega Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, omegaverse, alpha/omega, rut, knotting, clit stimulation, mating bites, rough sex, feral sex, breeding kink, protective!Yuuji, best friend!Yuuji, alpha!Sukuna, double dick!Sukuna

Word count: 0.9k

A/N: Thinking about best friend Yuuji cockblocking Sukuna was hilarious.

Yuuji was your best friend and an alpha. But he would never make a move on you, he didn't want to put your friendship at risk and even when you were in heat you knew you were safe around him. Lately though he's been a lot more... well... angry might be the best way to put it. He wasn't snapping at you, but at Sukuna, who would occasionally break free and rile you up just by staring at you before Yuuji could cage him back into his mind.

It seems that he's been losing that battle lately. Every time when Sukuna would kiss you or start to take your clothes off Yuuji would intervene and put a stop to it. As your friend he was only looking out for you, he knew what kind of alpha Sukuna was. Yet it was mildly annoying to and left you with an even worse ache between your legs.

He never made a move to help you out, knowing that was a friendship boundary he couldn't cross. But Sukuna could, he didn't even see you as a friend. To Sukuna you were just another omega in heat. When he finally broke free of Yuuji's hold, even just for a night he visited you immediately. He didn't want to waste time, knowing full well that it was borrowed.

Good thing you were already so wet, it made it easy to slide one of his cocks into your pussy and fuck you like you needed to be fucked. Sukuna was unlike any alpha you've been with, he was beyond animalistic, beyond feral from being kept caged for so long. The years without a vessel, and now held back by it.

You could hear Sukuna talking, but it wasn't you he was talking to, you were just the one he was fucking. "Thought you could keep me from my pretty omega huh brat? Come on, you should have known better. She wanted me from the moment she saw me." Sukuna grinned down at you and pulled your body taunt by your wrists, keeping you pressed against him while his cock pistoned in and out of your clenching pussy. "Keep complaining all you want, we both know what she really wants."

"Sukuna, I-" All breath was knocked out of your lungs when he rushed to bite your neck. It wasn't hard enough to put a real mark there but for a split second you thought he might. "Yes." You told him even before he asked.

"Heh, told you so. She wants it. Don't you pretty girl? Are you gonna let me knot your cunt?" You nodded quickly, not trusting your voice. "Fuck. I can't do it if you're so tight. But I like the challenge, I'll fuck my knot into you, even if I have to break you in the process."

His threat made a flood of wetness coat his cock. You were already half-way gone for him.

Sukuna pushed his second cock across your clit, "Told you she wants it. She wants my cock, my knot, she wants to be... mine. Don't like that huh Yuuji? This pretty omega sure does. I can tell she wants it. Look at how much she wants me to breed her full of my seed."

You almost didn't want to look at him in the eye, ashamed for how Yuuji would react when he returned to his body. But Sukuna wasn't gonna let you get away with that act. He smiled at you as you hissed in pain when his third hand gripped into your hair and his fourth grabbed your chin, making it impossible not to look into his eyes.

His hips pushed flush against yours, your moans encouraging him to ram his thick cock into you, carving the shape of it into your inner walls. "You're taking it so well. An omega bitch in heat, made just for my cock." With his fast paced thrusts also came the equally fast smacks of his second cock against your sensitive clit, making your hips jerk upwards.

The spicy aggressive scent of him was driving you mad. Just the fact that his own rut got triggered by being around you when you were in heat made your cunt spasm around his cock, adding to the slippery wetness, making it easy for his knot to slip inside you. "Your knot, god..."

"Hurts?" He asked with equal parts worry and smugness.

"It's big but it feels good. I want your cum too! Please Sukuna, come inside me." The previous sense of shame you felt was gone when you felt the knot on his second cock brushing against your cunt. You couldn't take two at once but that didn't mean he couldn't switch. "I want the other one too."

"Do you? Naughty little omega. Let's see how you handle one first. Are you ready for me to give you my cum?" You nodded and let your cunt spasm around him, clamping down around his cock, your toes curling and voice on the verge of giving out as his thrusts turned short and quick. His cum splashed inside of you, safely locked inside by his knot. "Don't you dare bite my neck." He could feel your teeth grazing him. You whimpered in protest, and he seemingly had mercy.

But it wasn't his neck, it was his hand that met your teeth. Enough for now.

"So needy." He laughed at you as he pulled his hand away and kissed the bite mark you left behind. "My knots take a bit of extra time so you enjoy it while you can. As soon as it goes down I'm putting the next one into you. I'm gonna make sure to knock you up tonight." He looked behind him while snickering, and you could almost hear Yuuji's voice, cursing at him.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #sukuna smut #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk headcanons #sukuna headcanons #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jjk imagine #sukuna imagine #jujutsu kaisen x female reader #jjk x female reader

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azullumi · 10 months

Text

“his habits during it” ; genshin men

warning — nsfw content ahead but nothing that graphic or explicit (seriously i tried my best to not even mention the word sex and the genitals)

summary — there’s one thing he loves to do whenever the two of you get in bed together.

characters — diluc, kazuha, ayato, kaveh, alhaitham, tighnari, cyno, zhongli, and wanderer (w/gender-neutral reader) ; no specified anatomy nor even mentioned parts

tags — kind of fluff, nsfw, not proof-read (wrote this while i was irritated and needed something to pour my attention to) ; headcanons

words — 1265

note — hey siri, how do you say they’re fucking without saying they’re fucking

handholding

DILUC — (i have already said this before) diluc likes, no, he loves the intimacy the simple act of holding one’s hand has even when two of you are just walking together side by side or when his skin is pressed against yours, lips colliding against one another, and he’s whispering words of affection to your ears—a mere distraction and a sense of comfort, grounding you and keeping you with him. it’s just that effortless gesture of intertwining his hand with yours, locking fingers, as he indulges in the way you feel around him. he squeezes your hand in the middle of it all and oh, how he melts so much when you also squeeze his own in return. he could never tell you how much you make him so soft and weak with just the slightest hold.

eye contact

KAZUHA — “don’t look away now,” he coos at you, seeing how you shy yourself and avert your gaze away from him which he obviously didn’t like. he likes seeing you coming undone while you try to remain eye contact with him—it pleases him seeing your features contort into into what you are currently feeling—, likes teasing you every time you try to look away from him and hide your expression, likes saying such remarks that gets you embarrassed most times just so he could see and watch the change of your expressions every single time. he just loves looking at you, adoring you with his eyes, especially more so when you also do the same and keep contact, gaze nailed on each other.

praises and talking dirty

AYATO — he’s a talker, both outside the matters in the bedroom and inside the sheets, so it’s no wonder that he always shower you with praises in every chance that he gets even if you’re not in the right mind to respond or even comprehend what he’s saying. he conveys most of his affections through the words that falls out of his lips, finding it so easy to say such things and teasing you with it, he can’t help it, can he? how could he not when you look so pretty—not only outside the bedroom—or beautiful, or handsome, or lovely, or anything that he could think of right at that moment when he sees you naked? Even if he had held and seen you with nothing to cover your skin so many times, he still gets mesmerized by the sight of you like it was his first time.

playing with your hair

KAVEH — he plays with it, he tugs on it, pulls on it, and everything. and though it gives him some sense of control especially when he pulls on it, it also grounds him and helps him realize the affection and love being shared between you two in this intimate moment. sometimes he only dances his fingers on your head, treating you softly and tenderly with the delicate hold of his hand on your hair, which could often provide a huge contrast to what he’s actually doing, the rough treatment he’s giving you which makes you roll your eyes and see spots in your vision. “you look so pretty like this, my love,” he would say before tugging your hair back to take a good look at your face or to tilt your head in a way that gives him more access to your neck.

lots of kisses

TIGHNARI — gently laying you down the bed? kisses you while doing so. sliding your clothes off your body? presses his lips against yours before trailing down, tracing your jaw, his mouth making its way down your neck, and resting on your collarbone. asking you consent? he kisses you before he speaks. he presses gentle kisses of adoration all over you as he pushes himself into you, your bodies becoming one in the process, providing comfort and easing you as he could feel your nails digging deep into his skin and possibly, leaving marks and wounds but he didn’t mind. his fondness and desire murmuring into you, helping you breath and regain yourself. it was clear that his way of affection was simply just kissing you.

giving orders

CYNO — he doesn’t always take the dominant position but perhaps it was the sense of authority, the power whenever he does it. he has the habit of giving orders and commands whenever you two are spending a passionate moment and seeing you willing to follow him ignites something in him—however, if you disobey him, then that’s a different matter altogether (it’s not like he hates it however. deep in him, he likes it as it gives him the pass to do more things but with your consent, of course). you’re so vulnerable, so obedient to him and it fuels his excitement further when you follow what he says. it makes him wonder, a question pondering his head, how could he have someone like you, someone as lovely and sweet as you, so good to him?

restriction / holding your hands together

ZHONGLI — no, it is not the act of locking your fingers with his as he pushes himself into you just like diluc, this one is completely different. he has big hands, we all know that zhongli’s hands are big and one of it just enough to bind both of your wrists together—he is well-aware of that fact and abuses it. he likes seeing you struggle, tugging your hand against his but his hold wouldn’t budge, at all. although zhongli hasn't explicitly told or mentioned it, he absolutely loves the way you look so helpless and weak whenever he holds your hands together, whenever he restricts your movement. oftentimes, he would have a silk ribbon—it has to be a silk ribbon—tying you up just so he could rest his hands on your hips and hold you.

hands always touching and roaming around your body

ALHAITHAM — he just loves to feel you, in general. he loves the softness of your skin underneath the tip of his fingers as he glides his hand all across your body, the warmth of you seething into his touch and being buried in his bones, and he is obsessed on the way he could feel the sweet trembles of your body underneath his hand, could sense the small shiver when he finally touches you, and he adores it and he doesn’t hesitate in conveying his affections to you, often accompanying his caresses with his words of praises and compliments. perhaps it overwhelms you, not knowing where to focus yourself on, and he loves seeing you in such a state, pushing you more and more further to the edge with his hands and mouth alone.

biting and leaving marks

WANDERER — the line between pain and pleasure soon blurs into one as he bites into you while, and one could say it serves as a distraction but it isn’t, it’s not even close to being a distraction, it’s simply something that adds to the stimulation that you are feeling, overwhelming and effectively bringing you into some sort of space. he takes joy in the sounds that you make once he buries his neck on the curve of your neck, hard but not hard enough to draw blood; he takes pride in seeing the bruises and marks that he left on you, looking at you like you were a work of art carved and sculpted into something more than perfection with his own hands.

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osaemu · 5 months

Text

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ IS IT OVER NOW? (IT ISN'T) ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: all good things come to an end, including your relationship—but don't worry, broken hearts can be mended, but only if you're both willing to try.

contents: fem!reader. you two break up and make up! you guys fight/break up over something that coulda been resolved with better communication. kinda suggestive ending, maybe i'll drop a part two if this does alright. satoru announces your break-up on his stream. longest fic i've posted so far, 4k words (kms).

author's note: the long awaited angst has finally arrived.. big thank you to @screampied for beta-reading!! tagging @yunymphs who read it early and @sutorus + @kentopedia who i both miss very much!!

ever since you first joined satoru on his stream, it’s gotten way more popular than either of you could’ve ever expected. before he brought you onto his live, he was averaging about eight thousand views per stream. now, his average was well over fifteen thousand—and that wasn't even including the publicity he got from other websites. when satoru accidentally left the camera on while you two made out, you two went viral on twitter. and when another user tried to swipe him away, the clip got over a hundred thousand views on youtube.

at first, satoru didn't mind the change his stream was going through—in fact, he welcomed it. but lately, things have been… different.

last week, while satoru was playing in some competition, he won first out of hundreds of equally proficient players. had it been anyone else, their comments would've been filled with congratulations and good job's, but in his case, all satoru got were messages asking where you were. that wasn’t the first time—ever since that very first day, when you showed up on his stream, satoru’s audience has entirely shifted. and honestly, if you were in his position, you'd be a bit annoyed. anyone would be.

but you had never expected that it would be so big of a deal that you and satoru—the "cutest couple on the internet"—would break up over it.

you walk along the chilly, suburban sidewalk up to your boyfriend’s house. satoru had just sent you a message asking if you could come over, and like always, you answered with an immediate yes. a flock of crows fly by, raven feathers providing a stark contrast between them and the pale gray sky around you. it’s gray and gloomy, but not unpleasant.

a sweet, romantic song plays in your ears as you knock three times on satoru’s front door. his familiar voice calls out “coming!”, and you can hear his footsteps grow louder and louder until he swings open the door. satoru smiles down at you, cheeks already rosy from the cold winter air. “hey.”

you tilt your head and smile back at him. “that’s all i get? hey?” you huff, walking into his living room behind him as the door closes behind you. “d’you have any hot chocolate? i’m freezing,” you say, licking your lips. satoru turns and pauses, an unreadable expression on his face. “satoru?”

after a moment, your boyfriend snaps out of it. “oh, yeah, sorry,” he says ruefully. satoru rubs his eyes with one hand and uses the other to open the door to his bedroom, and as you follow him in, you’re hit with a blast of warm air. “i’m just kinda tired, but yeah, i have some hot cocoa in here. c’mon.”

“anything i can do for you?” you offer, sitting down on the corner of his bed. you’ve been to his house so many times that it feels like home—maybe even more so than your own place. everything about satoru’s room is comfortable, from his plush chairs to the faux-fur blankets draped over every single piece of his furniture. you could probably fall over at any given point and it wouldn’t actually hurt—you’d just land on something soft and/or fluffy.

but that wasn’t all that made you so in love with his home. it was just the way it felt—words couldn’t describe the way everything was just so right and just so perfect, and you really did hope that you’d never have to see a time where you wouldn’t be able to spend time with your boyfriend here.

it really is a shame that all good things had to come to an end. at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as satoru finally told you why he called you over. unlike nearly every other time, it wasn’t because he missed you or wanted to cuddle—it was quite the opposite, really.

“i don’t think this is working.”

six words that shattered the life you had come to know and love.

“is this a joke?” you try, an unnerved smile spreading across your lips against your will. he doesn’t reply instantly, which is so out-of-character for him that it makes you stiffen up. “satoru, this isn’t funny—”

“i’m not kidding,” satoru murmurs, looking away. he refuses to meet your eyes, and some part of you is still desperately trying to find reason in the chaos that’s slowly taking over your mind. how could it be that everything was just fine two minutes ago and now it’s anything but that? did something happen? did you say the wrong thing? did you—

“it’s not funny,” you insist, still somehow clinging onto your slowly-dwindling hope. maybe you’re in denial, but still, you were sure that everything was fine—no, that everything is fine. there was no past-tense, right? how could the glass home you’d built with your bare hands just crash down at the throw of a pebble?

satoru finally meets your eyes, and your breath catches in your throat. there’s no amused glimmer in his eyes, no “just kidding” in sight, and even worse, you can’t even see an ounce of the love or adoration you’d come to grow so attached to in just a couple months.

“what happened?” you whisper, miraculously managing to keep yourself together. you’d never forgive yourself if you just started crying over a breakup you weren’t even sure was happening—what little’s left of your pride is holding on. you allow yourself to wrap your arms around your chest, curling into your own embrace.

satoru doesn’t reply for a long second. right when you’re sure he just won’t reply, he does, and it all comes spilling out in a messy stream of words. “it’s just… i can’t do this anymore. i can’t keep going online and seeing everyone on my stream talking about you. i love you, i really do, but it’s just—” satoru shakes his head frustratedly. “i don’t know how to say it, but you know what i mean, right?”

your eyebrows furrow and you shake your head. “you’re breaking up with me because you’re tired of seeing me?”

“no, fuck,” satoru groans, running a hand through his hair. his previously cool and collected demeanor starts to fall apart as he takes a step back. “i don’t know how to explain it, but— shit, you wouldn’t understand.”

you swallow and start to stand up, still willing to try. “then help me understand, satoru, i—”

“you’ve seen the comments, and you’ve seen all the posts on twitter,” satoru says, tilting his head back and glaring at the ceiling. “it’s not your fault, but i really just can’t stand everyone disregarding me and turning my own stream into a youtube channel starring you.”

his words sting like alcohol in an open wound, and you fight the battle of your life to prevent the thousands of tears hiding behind your eyes from being visible. even so, your voice wobbles ever so slightly as you say “that’s a bullshit reason to break up, satoru—”

your boyfriend—is he even still your boyfriend?—scoffs and shakes his head, stumbling back and falling into his chair. "for you, it isn't. you wouldn’t understand. for me, it's like everyone's just... invalidating the three years i've spent on this shit. and i can't do it anymore, i just can't."

you blink slowly, backing away towards his bedroom door. "what does that mean?"

satoru exhales a bitter laugh and turns away, the back of his chair facing you. you think you can hear him take a soft, shaky breath as the room falls silent. neither of you make a sound before satoru turns back toward you, a blank look on his face.

he looks up at you, azure eyes devoid of the sparkle you've become so familiar with. satoru smiles sadly, but to your dismay, there's no real emotion behind it. it's almost like he's already accepted it when he says, "it means we—" he pauses and looks away. "this is over."

you reach out toward him, desperate to hold on to him—to the invisible string that ties you and satoru together, but he's just out of your grasp. "satoru, it isn't even that big of a deal, why are you—"

satoru turns and fixes you with a stern glare, and just like that, the string that kept you and satoru together for months, maybe years snaps, and you're left with a limp strand of what it once was. taking the hint, you walk out of his room in a daze, hardly noticing the way he says "i'm sorry".

and the worst part? he said he still loved you. but apparently that wasn’t enough.

satoru has every right to be annoyed that his stream is only growing because of you—his stream was the way he made money, and after all, it was never meant to be about you.

and maybe he was never meant to be for you either.

the walk home is cold and lonely. you slip a hand into your pocket—the pocket of satoru's hoodie, which you should probably return to him—and extract your earphones. it probably isn't a good idea to wear both outside as you walk home, but you do it anyway—this day can't possibly get any worse.

a soft voice murmurs words of sorrow and encouragement in your ear as the music takes you to another world. maybe this—the breakup—was meant to happen. maybe it was a mistake to date a boy with thousands of fans.

as soon as you get home, your phone dings softly. you pick it up and frown when you see it's from toru. you'd have to change that name later.

toru: idk if u blocked me already but i still have a lot of ur things, do u wanna come pick them up later?

toru: or i can drop them off tmrw ig

you miss the way he used to text you—with an obnoxious amount of exclamation points and an even worse amount of emojis. now, it's like all of the flavor's gone from his words, and it hurts. that's when it actually settles in, that this is really over. it hurts like an icicle being driven straight through your heart, and it stings like one, too.

satoru's texts are left on delivered for five whole minutes before you reply, and it's only with an "i'll come by tmrw". he likes the message less than a minute later, and you're left to wallow in your misery alone until you finally drift off to sleep.

the next morning, you open your phone to a notification alerting you that satoru’ll be live on stream in ten minutes. curiosity kills the cat, but in this case, maybe it’d be worth it to see what he tells his viewers about your breakup. after all, there’s no way he wouldn’t tell them—he always had something to say about you, and he’d probably rather tell them for sure rather than let them come up with ridiculous theories on their own.

so you hastily make a new account using some email account you haven’t touched since middle school, trying a couple different passwords until you remember the one that works. the website hits you with a hundred questions, asking you about your favorite games and who’d you like to subscribe to first. you choose satoru, albeit after a second of hesitation. two minutes later, sparklingzebra672 joins your ex-boyfriend’s stream. you wait a second, holding your breath as the live loads. a brief moment later, satoru’s painfully familiar face appears on your screen.

“hey guys,” satoru says, forcing a smile on his face. even from behind a screen, you swear you can feel his eyes on you. “how’s everyone today?”

the already unstable smile on satoru’s face falls when he opens the comments and gets greeted with a flurry of where’s your girlfriend’s. had you been anyone else, you probably wouldn’t have noticed the way satoru’s eyes dulled ever so slightly or the way he curled into himself, but being the girl who once knew him best, you could tell.

“oh, she won’t be back on here for… a while,” satoru starts, dancing around the topic. he leans back against his chair and tilts his chin up, azure eyes focused on the ceiling. “we broke up.”

nothing could’ve prepared you for the way satoru’s comments explode. it’s almost like you can hear the shocked gasps coming from all fourteen—no, twenty thousand viewers as the words nobody thought would ever they’d hear from satoru are spoken.

suguru-geto: holy shit im so sorry

toji-fushiguro: wait wtf r u kidding?? that's fuckin crazy

yuuji-itadori: omg i thought u guys were together forever :(

inumaki: chat is this real??

satoru shrugs, averting his eyes from the hundreds of comments pouring in, but you scroll through and read them all. everyone, even satoru’s haters, seems genuinely shocked. in fact, had this not been your own breakup, you would’ve been one of them, begging and pleading satoru for more details.

“yeah, we did,” satoru murmurs, eyebrows furrowing just enough for you to read his expression. now that you’re looking closer, you can see the subtle redness underneath his eyes—had he been crying too? and maybe you’re imagining it, but his hair seems a bit dishelved too. your ex-boyfriend shrugs, forcing his face back into his usual lighthearted expression, but it’s not fooling anyone.

satoru scowls at the new flood of comments asking him why you two broke up. some people are already hypothesizing—maybe it’s because you got jealous of his fame, or maybe he got sick of you. maybe you left him to go date some other streamer, or maybe—

“i’m actually gonna end the stream here, ‘cause i don’t really want to deal with all of this right now,” satoru says with a frown. his eyes are narrowed irritably as a couple users protest, still begging for more details. “you guys know that i’m a real person with my own life, right? fuck off.”

and just like that, the stream ends. you’re left with a blank screen and a message saying that satoru’s ended the live, so you shut your laptop. your stomach turns as you groan, just remembering that you have to go over to his place later to retrieve your things, and somehow, you’d have to pretend that you didn’t just stalk his stream to see if he’d say anything substantial about the breakup.

a couple minutes after the stream ends, your phone blows up—every mutual friend you and satoru have is messaging you about what he said, but you can’t bring yourself to open any of them. except for one.

suguru: r u ok?

you: yeah ig

suguru: do u want anything?

satoru’s best friend’s question catches you off-guard—there are a lot of things you want. you want this whole situation to go away. you want the world to disappear. and most of all, you want satoru back, without the online world attached.

but suguru can’t do any of those things, can he? so you leave him on read.

somehow, you fall back asleep, tossing and turning in your bed without satoru’s steady arms to accompany you. a couple hours later, you wake up again, wincing from the dim sunlight that pours through your windows and directly into your eyes. it’s just past five, so you figure that you might as well go down to satoru’s house and get your things. better to do it now than drag it out for an uncertain amount of time.

the walk is shorter than you remember, but maybe it’s just the absence of music pouring into your ears that makes it seem that way. you watch the wilted autumn leaves flutter in the wind, falling down onto the sidewalk like pieces into place. once upon a time, you had walked these very streets with satoru—it’s a fond memory you remember only all too well.

when you finally step onto your ex’s doorstep, the door opens before you even have a chance to knock. and there he is—the boy who’d once been the love of your life. satoru looks down at you with an unreadable expression. “hey.”

you think you’ve seem this film before, and you didn’t like the ending.

satoru spares you from having to reply by opening the door wider and beckoning you inside. “i already put most of your stuff into a couple boxes, but i thought you’d wanna check on your own. just in case i forgot something.”

you nod and walk past him, not trusting your voice to be steady. this was harder than you expected—much harder. in fact, you’re practically on the verge of breaking down when you step into satoru’s room and look around and see just how different it looks without the touches of you everywhere.

the fortnite poster you’d given him as a joke for the second anniversary of his stream was gone from his wall, and so were the two mini succulents that used to sit on the corner of his desk. the white cat plushie that used to rest on his pillow was gone, too—probably stuffed somewhere in one of the boxes outside his bedroom door.

after nearly a minute of looking around, you decide that whatever satoru possibly could’ve missed wasn’t important enough for you to have to stick around any longer.

you turn and start to exit satoru’s room so fast that you nearly crash into him when he suddenly appears in the doorway. “shit, sorry about that,” you mumble, trying to walk around him. but of course, because the universe is actually praying on your downfall, you and satoru both walk the same way at the same time. you awkwardly try to go around each other, and eventually, the humiliation is over.

“so, you got everything?” satoru asks, walking beside you with his hands in his pockets. you nod, bending over to pick up one of the two boxes. it’s pretty heavy, but not unmanangable. you just don’t really seem to know if you’ll be able to carry both back home at once.

“oh, uh, i’ll be right back,” you say tentatively. a flash of confusion appears in satoru’s eyes, so you clarify, “i’m gonna go grab my car. that’ll make it easier.”

satoru’s eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. “no, it’s alright. your place isn’t far from here at all, i’ll just take the other and walk back with you.”

“no, really, it’s alright.”

“it’s the easiest option, ba—” satoru cuts himself off, stopping himself from calling you baby for the first time since you two had started dating. “sorry.”

“let’s just go.”

the walk back to your house is brutal. you walk side by side with satoru since the path is wide enough for you to do so, and you two just keep bumping into each other. had you still been dating, satoru probably would’ve dropped the box and scooped you up instead, kissing your cold face to warm it up. of course, that would’ve added five minutes to your walk, but it would’ve been better than the tense silence dividing you and satoru right now.

the wind whistles around you, brushing at your skin and making you shiver with every gust—there’s nothing more you’d like than to go home, plop on your couch and cry while watching the titanic for the hundredth time.

after what seems like three hundred awkward hours later, you and satoru finally make it to your house. “thanks,” you say quietly, setting down your box in front of the door.

satoru places his next to yours and slips his hands back into his pockets. he nods and replies, “no problem,” but still doesn’t leave.

you cross your arms, and tilt your head, meeting his eyes hesitantly. “umm, do you need anything else?”

satoru coughs tensely and shrugs. “oh, uh, not really, just—” his eyes drift down to your top, and your face grows warm when you realize you’re still wearing his hoodie.

“shit, my bad,” you mumble, internally cringing and resisting the urge to say every curse word you know. could this day really get any worse?

well, at least satoru looks equally as embarrassed. he shakes his head and gestures for you to keep it on. “it’s fine, it’s kinda cold anyways. keep it.” satoru hesitates, shuffling his feet before continuing, “if you want something… to remember me by.”

what you say next was done entirely against your will. “do you still love me?” you ask suddenly, not sure what otherworldly force prompted you to do so. you instantly regret it when satoru’s face goes even redder, and you can tell it’s not from the cold the way his blush spreads to his ears.

“i— uh, i mean—”

“answer me, satoru, i think i have a right to know.”

he looks away and mumbles something about needing to go back home, to feed his fish or something (he doesn’t have a fish), and you grab his hand just as he starts to turn away. “please, satoru, i need to know,” you breathe, squeezing his hand harder when he flinches.

ten silent seconds tick by, but you still don’t let go. so satoru sighs, a soft white puff of air coming from his lips. “yeah.”

your heart breaks again.

“then why did you—”

“because i don’t know how to do this,” satoru says, blue eyes darting all over the place. “i love you, i really do, but i just can’t— i don’t like having thousands of people thinking that i’m only worth looking at if i’m with you, it’s annoying and it pisses me off and i don’t want to accidentally take it out on yo—”

you cut him off with a kiss, ignoring the way he yelps a little in surprise. but thankfully, he doesn’t push you away—instead, his arms instantly wrap around you and pull you closer into his warm, warm chest. satoru’s lips are a little dry, but still minty as ever from the peppermints he’s constantly munching on. he kisses you back like a man starved of affection, and when you two finally break apart, his eyes are just as hungry.

“you idiot,” you whisper, trailing your fingers through his hair as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. “you shoulda just talked to me about it first.”

“i know,” satoru mumbles, looking down bashfully. “‘m sorry.”

“you should be.” you pause, watching satoru’s lips curve into a pouty frown. “i’m sorry too,” you murmur, and he looks up, confused. “i should’ve seen this coming.”

satoru shakes his head and presses his lips to your forehead, lingering for a couple seconds before pulling back. “i missed you.”

“i was gone for less than a day, satoru.”

“oh, so you didn’t miss me?”

“i did,” you admit, exhaling a puff of air when satoru smiles smugly. “shut up, it’s not a competition!”

“yeah it is, but fine, you win,” satoru gives in with a dramatic sigh, reaching down and twining his fingers with yours. his hands, which are significantly bigger than yours, instantly warm you up. “but only ‘cause i don’t want you to break up with me next.”

“i hate you, y’know that?” you grumble, leaning into his side and letting satoru kiss the top of your head. he hums in agreement, reaching out and opening your front door.

“i’m sure you do, baby. now c’mon, let’s get inside n’ warm up. i wanna make it up to you,” satoru says with a grin, bending over and scooping up both boxes.

“oh, yeah? how do you plan to do that?” you challenge, going inside first and holding the door open for satoru. once he’s inside, you close the door and instantly get pinned against it by satoru, whose hands are already creeping underneath your clothes. “satoru, your hands are col—”

he cuts you off by pressing his equally cold lips to yours, smiling against your mouth as he tugs at your clothes. “i know, baby. but i’ll keep you nice n’ warm for the rest of the night, i promise!”

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ponderingmoonlight · 3 months

Text

Satoru Gojo purposely keeping the scar you gave him instead of using reversed technique

Pairing: husband! Gojo x reader

Word Count: 1,6k

Synopsis: When his skin gets busted by your sheer excitement, it doesn't feel right to Satoru to use his reversed technique and simply heal.

Warnings: fluff fluff fluff, Yuji's "death" scnene in season 1, blood lol

Thank you dear anon for aggressively reminding me that it's canon for Gojo to not have any scars, it really helped me cooking up that fic! 🤍

Every step feels like hell, the only thing that keeps you from collapsing onto the floor being the reassuring hand of your husband on your shoulder.

This can’t be true, it’s just impossible. Yuji Itadori was a member of Jujutsu High for a few weeks, just started to get to know this world better. This was supposed to be an easy mission, the three of them should have made it out alive with ease. But apparently, Sukuna decided to show up. And apart from injuring Megumi, he violently took Yuji’s life by ripping his heart out. A heart made of pure gold, a heart so precious that you couldn’t help but care for that boy the minute you saw him.

But now he’s dead.

Your hands start shaking immediately the minute you step into this cursed room you visited far too often, gazing at Yuji’s body covered by a cloak. This isn’t a bad dream. No, the blood covering the white cloak tells you more than urgently that Yuji Itadori isn’t there anymore.

“Please tell me that there’s a chance he’ll come back”, you mutter.

Oh, how much both Shoko and Satoru hate to see you like that. It’s not a secret to anyone at Jujutsu High how deeply you care about your students, loving them like your own children. Of course, this isn’t the first time you’ve seen a student die in front of your eyes. In times like these, jujutsu sorcerers pass away like flies. But Satoru knows what you’ve seen in Yuji, that he somehow reflected parts of yourself. And still, you weren’t able to protect that boy, both Satoru and you coming too late to rescue him.

“I really wish I could, but he shows no signs of life. I’ll move on to autopsy now. If you want to say goodbye…Maybe do it now and leave afterwards.”

Satoru wraps his arms around you just in time before you slide onto the ground, holding you tightly against his chest.

“This is not fair”, you breathe out, head still not able to accept Yuji’s farewell.

He was so young, so full of life. He doesn’t deserve to die, he still had so much ahead of him. There needs to be something you are able to do. Aren’t Satoru or Shoko able to use their cursed technique?

“He didn’t show any signs of life for hours by now, (y/n). Not even Shoko or me are able to bring him back to life. I’m so sorry”, he mumbles against your ear out of nowhere.

So this is really how it ended? With Yuji getting killed by none other than Sukuna himself? Like in trance, your wobbly legs carry you to the autopsy table his lifeless body lays on. You want to stretch out your arm, want to look at that precious boy one last time before Shoko does her job.

But you can’t.

“I can’t look at him”, you blurt out.

With a swift motion, you turn around and burry your face against your husband’s chest.

“It’s okay babe, just look at me, okay? You don’t have to do this.”

Satoru’s arms keep you from losing yourself completely, soak up your falling tears while his head rests against yours. Oh Yuji, you’ll never be forgotten. All the laughter’s both of you shared, his potential, how he always cared about others. You will think about him every time the sun starts to rise, when new students get greeted, when you kill another curse-

“Hey, what’s up? Huh, what are both of you doing here, Gojo-sensei?”

This voice…

That was Yuji Itadori.

Out of instinct you turn around rapidly, not even noticing how the back of your head crushes into Satoru’s forehead with full force. He sees starts, blood taking his sight in an instant while his mind isn’t even able to comprehend it was Yuji who just spoke.

“Yuji! Are you okay? Are you hurt? You’re back!”, you babble out, embracing the boy in a tight hug.

“To be honest I don’t even know what happened last and I’m pretty hungry…Oh, you’re bleeding Gojo-sensei!”

You’re…bleeding? You turn around in confusion, following Yuji’s eyes.

“OMG SATORU!”, you cry out, the sight of your husband covered in his own blood shocking you to your core.

When did that happened…Was it…you?

“I guess you were so happy to see Itadori that you’ve forgot about me standing behind you”, he mutters amused.

“Babe I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got so carried away and-“

“Don’t worry about me. Reversed technique, remember? I’ll be whole in seconds. Just look after Yuji, I love you.”

You let out the breath you were holding, the bright smile forming on your gorgeous face making Satoru forget the world around him for a moment. You are so caring, so passionate. And you are his wife.

“I’m a lucky man”, he mutters to himself while pressing the tissue Shoko handed him against his wound.

There you sit, gently caressing Yuji’s cheeks and asking him over and over if he’s okay.

“You really are. This isn’t a problem for you, right?”, Shoko questions with one glance at the laceration on his forehead.

The shocked look on your face replays itself over and over in his mind, lets a chuckle escape his lips. With the help but his reversed technique, it would be way too easy to get rid of that minor wound. Within seconds, there wouldn’t even be a scar left, just his flawless skin. But…it was you who did this to him out of sheer excitement. It sure would be nice to look into the mirror and get reminded of you daily, right?

“Oh, I might as well keep that”, he replies with a sly grin.

- a few weeks later -

You sit on the edge of the couch, desperately waiting for that time of the day. Even after being married to that force of a man for 4 years now, you find yourself getting all excited when he announces that he’s going to shower. Because going to shower means that he’ll come out just wearing boxers with his body still a little wet and his hair sticking to his face in that delicate way.

“Still waiting for me, huh? It’s not like you can see me naked every time you want, babe”, he finally purrs.

Your heart skips a beat. This man…How is it even allowed to look so breathtakingly gorgeous? The way a single droplet of water runs down his cheek, how he gently strokes his damp hair back.

Wait. You squint your eyes a little harder. What is that on his forehead?

“What do you have there?”, you question, rubbing your own hand against the ride side of your forehead.

This almost looks like a scar. But Satoru shouldn’t have scars. After all, he’s able to use reversed technique, healing himself in the matter of seconds. Is it just dirt? No, that definitely looks like scar tissue.

“Oh, it’s nothing”, he immediately tries to brush you off, pulling his hair back into his face.

“No way Romeo, come back here right now”, you demand.

With a swift motion you lift yourself off the couch and hunt after him.

“Is that a scar?”

“It might be…”

“Why didn’t you just heal it? Show it to me!”

When you finally catch him, you slick his hair back again. Only to be greeted what indeed looks like a middle-sized scar. But why and how did this happen, why didn’t he just heal like he usually does?

“You really don’t know where this came from?”, he challenges you.

You blink a few times. What the hell is your husband talking about?

“Why would I know where this came from?”

“Because it was you, (y/n)?”, he playfully bites back.

You? Your mind races, searching for a single moment you ever hurt your husband. You were never really able to even hurt him, no matter how berserk you went in training. When was the last time you even wounded him? But wait, there was this one time you made him bleed, that one time when…

“This was when Yuji woke up-“

“EXACTLY!”, Satoru cries out and gives you a round of applause.

“But why did you keep it? You said you’d be able to heal it…”

“Because I didn’t want to. This scar right here”

Gently, he takes your hand in his and traces the soft scar with your fingertips.

“will always remind me of what a wonderful human being you are.”

Oh. Your eyes turn glossy in an instant, staring up at your loving husband while he gifts you with the most breath-taking smile you’ve ever seen.

“Satoru”, you breathe out.

There is no time to waste. You wrap your longing arms around his tall frame tightly, aiming to never let him go again.

“Every time I look into the mirror, I think about my wonderful wife”, he mutters into your hair.

“Y’know, you could just take a picture of me or something-“

“No. I would rather just keep that scar of my wonderful wife smacking me over a student.”

You hit him playfully over his comment, a giggle escaping your precious lips.

“Come on, it wasn’t like that…”

“I’ll always tell the story like this.”

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Dividers by @saradika 🤍

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