#y’all can have this one i’m not touching whatever shit he’s about to pull with a 10 foot pole | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dawnagustd · 1 year

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hours || jjk

⇝ author’s note: she’s here, bitches!!!! lol thank you @m1sss1mp and @monvante for putting posters of this man all over my blog. this fic is for the both of you. thank you so much for holding my hand through it all. thank you @baljinciaga for beta’ing and screaming in the comments because you gave me the confidence to post this lol. listen, i’m rusty with the smut y’all so i apologize if it’s a mess. anyway, i hope you enjoy. this has been beta’d but there’s still probably some errors since i changed some things after it was beta read.

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“So are you spending the night or…?”

Jungkook props himself on his elbow so he can see you. He uses his fingers to comb some hair away from his face, revealing his flushed cheeks and a horseshoe septum piercing. Ask yourself how many rounds you’ve gone, and you wouldn’t be able to give an accurate answer.

You came over at six, had a beer, did some karaoke, showed him some shit you learned in twerk class, and as some as the Netflix intro came through the tv speakers, your clothes were scattered all over his apartment and your ass was in the air while Jungkook fucked up your guts.

This is kind of a Wednesday night routine for you two. Has been for a few months. You’re just vibing and having fun with your hot neighbor, nothing serious yet. Right?

“As much as I’d like to stay—”

“Pussy.”

Your mouth falls open.

“Excuse me?”

He giggles until you reach for his hair and tug on his strands. You slide closer, trying to intimidate him but he keeps teasing.

“You’re pussy. You’re tapping out,” he repeats.

You scoff. “Boy, I’ve never tapped out a day in my life. Get the fuck out of here.”

Your thumb wipes the little smirk off of his face, but it returns seconds later.

“Your dick isn’t that good. Humble yourself,” you joke.

His cocky ass knows you’re dickmatized, but you still won’t admit it.

“Whatever. You know I’ve been holding back.”

“And who told you to do that?”

“You,” he answers. “Oh, Jungkook! Please, I’ll come!”

You smack his ink-covered arm drawing a chuckle from his lips.

“You’re so full of shit, Jungkook. Okay, let’s fuck again, and don’t hold back this time,” you request.

Jungkook begins shaking his head, laughing at your persistence.

“Love, the only one getting that kind of dick is my girl so…”

“So what are you trying to say?” you ask.

He shrugs. “You tell me. You know I’ve been trying to see about that.”

An eye roll from you follows his statement. “Whatever, I’ve already let you know how it is.”

“Yeah, but I wanna hear you say when you’re not stuffed with cock,” he gripes.

“Well, come here then. I’ll say it in your ear.”

You call him over using your finger, but he doesn’t move.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me, love.”

You throw the covers off of both of you, kicking the comforter until your legs are free. Jungkook doesn’t move initially when you spread your legs. He stays in a sitting position, letting his hair fall in his face while he smiles menacingly. His Calvin Klein’s hug his thick thighs, creating creases in his flesh.

“Well, show. Teach me. Make me aware,” you tease, using your foot to caress his calf.

“Careful, baby.”

His throat growls those words, his voice dropping octaves so low your pussy clenches.

“Why? Tired, hm?”

“You know that’s not it,” he chuckles.

You’d be lying if you didn’t admit your pussy gets wet just looking at him. Imagine being hot inside and out. That’s Jungkook. A gentleman, and the cutest weirdo immediately after. The sex is just the cherry on top.

You two just clicked, and the rest is history. Whether you need someone to act an absolute clown with or someone to fuck your brains out, Jungkook is that guy. You can’t keep your hands off of him, and he can never resist the chance to slide his dick in you.

“I don’t. So make me understand.”

“Ai yi yi,” he sighs. Then he looks at you and shakes his head. “...so much attitude.”

“Fix it for me.”

Jungkook nods then swiftly pounces on you. You start giggling, knowing you’ve struck a nerve.

“You’re pushing it, you know.”

“I don’t care,” you retort.

Jungkook smirks. “Oh, you will.”

He lowers his body, leveling his face with your pussy. You can feel small puffs of air leave his lips and come in contact with your center.

Jungkook brings two of his fingers to your entrance and prods teasingly, getting you riled up almost instantly. You grip the sheets and lift your lower body off the bed to chase his digits, but he doesn’t push in.

“Still wet for me?” he asks. Jungkook spreads your folds to examine your arousal, looking at you when he discovers that you’re soaking. “Damn, you are.”

The sound of your slick as your opening widens makes your cheeks burn with shame. You turn away, but Jungkook doesn’t like that.

“Uh, uh. You wanna get fucked, you gotta watch,” he says.

Reluctantly, you give him your attention and you immediately regret looking away. His messy hair and puffy eyes give you butterflies as you wait for his next move. You almost forget about how close his face is to your cunt.

Jungkook’s fingers slowly slip into your pussy. You gasp while they sink deep into your crevice. He knows the exact route and the perfect arch in which he must curl them to make your body quiver with pleasure.

Hearing your arousal filling the room entices both of you and Jungkook becomes eager to pick up the pace. Your hips buck and move in a circular motion to match his movements, creating a familiar build-up of pressure within your core. The sheets below you start to dampen from the juices dripping down your center.

“You’re so hot,” he whispers before he kisses your clit. “And you taste so good.”

Jungkook makes out with your bundle of nerves while his fingers pump in and out of your opening. His hair covers his face, much to your disappointment, so you gather it all and keep it contained in a makeshift ponytail.

Now that his face is visible, you can see the way his tongue swipes your pussy each time his lips part. You moan his name, swelling him with so much pride he can’t help but smile briefly. His fingers slide out of you but only so he can kiss lower and fuck you with his tongue.

The deeper he enters, the more pressure his nose places on your throbbing clit. His septum piercing tickles your center as he rubs his face in your pussy, creating a pleasant sensation that penetrates your core.

Quickly, you lose control over everything. You can feel your stomach tightening, hear your moans getting louder, smell the desire growing stronger but you’re unable to grasp the one thing you so desperately want. It’s so close, but then, Jungkook snatches it away.

“Fuck, you asshole!”

Jungkook suddenly stops just as you’re reaching your peak. He withdraws and leaves you a whining mess while he laughs.

“Oh, now I’m an asshole?” His smirk never fades while he removes his underwear and tosses them on the floor. “I think I’m a gentleman.”

He looks over at the nightstand and sighs defeatedly.

“Fuck, man.”

“What?”

“Out of condoms,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug. “It’s fine. I’m on the pill. We’re good.”

“Are you sure? I can just finish—”

“No, just pull out, dude. I wanna get fucked,” you insist.

“Well, yes ma’am. You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Jungkook hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you on his lap. He keeps one hand underneath your thigh while the other one grabs his dick. You prop yourself on your elbows and watch as he strokes his cock a few times, using your arousal for lubrication before he aligns with your center.

The tip probes your entrance until it’s nestled inside and he no longer needs to hold his shaft. He redirects his attention to your clit, and he massages your bud as he buries his cock inside of you.

“Shit!”

Your back arches and your fist punch the bed. Inch by inch he fills your pussy until he can’t fit any more of himself inside of you. The fullness you feel from his girth leaves you breathless and panting.

“Still so tight,” he whispers. “...feels so good.”

Jungkook hovers over you when you lie down again and kisses you, leaving the taste of your pussy on your lips. His tongue slips into your mouth and arousal coats your tastebuds. Your moans are muffled but are still clearly heard. His name escapes your lips repeatedly as you beg him to fuck you.

“Ready?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Another kiss graces your lips and then another for your chest. He moves to your breast and does the same to your nipples, but envelopes the right one between his lips and suckles it tenderly. Your arms wrap around him to bring him closer as he starts nibbling your sensitive bud with his teeth.

He starts to move, setting a pace that has your toes curling instantly. You bury your face in his dark strands and beg him to keep going.

“Jungkook, please don’t stop. It’s so good.”

“I’m not,” he promises, sending waves of vibrations through your areola. His mouth feels so warm and moist against your skin. Hair raises along your flesh caused by both the chill of the room and Jungkook’s gentle touch. It’s a contrast from the way he roughly thrusts inside of you, but it’s the kind of fire and ice that has your body yearning for more.

As if he can read your body language, he changes his position. A lewd noise pierces your ears when his lips release your stiffened nipple. The cold air makes your skin tingle due to the sensitivity and the presence of his saliva.

Jungkook wraps his hand around your throat, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. His fingers comb his hair away from his face, revealing his flushed face, his pierced lip tucked between his teeth. The intimacy of the moment intensifies the pleasure growing inside of you, and your watery eyes begin to produce thick salty droplets.

“Feel good, baby?” Jungkook quizzes. “Does it really feel that good?”

“Yes, Jungkook. It…”

Your voice is so weak and raspy. You have difficulty speaking clearly, and articulating your sentences. Jungkook is very displeased.

“Speak up,” he requests. He slaps your tits, leaving you trembling and hanging on by a thread. Your pussy clenches around him, and he responds by squeezing your throat. “You feel that?”

You croak out a response. The best you can with your airways being constricted.

“Good,” he grunts. “That’s how my dick feels inside this tight fucking pussy.”

He loosens his grip and air finally refills your lungs, making you lightheaded. Your head starts spinning, your vision becomes blurry, and slowly the familiar feeling begins to form within your gut. Grabbing Jungkook’s arm, you try to warn him, but you are immediately dismissed.

“Nope. I’m not done.”

Jungkook opens your legs wider and his thrusts deepen. It’s like he’s trying to fit his entire dick inside of you, but each time he runs out of room.

You can feel him entering your guts over and over. The blunt outline of his cock is faintly visible whenever it lodges itself in your womb. Your muscles clench tightly as you try your hardest to keep it together.

One thing’s for certain, he has been holding back. Now you’re addicted to this new side of him, and there’s no other way you want him to fuck you. It feels like no experience you’ve ever had; you can’t get enough, but your body can only take so much before you lose control.

“Ah, shit! You’re fucking tight.” Sweat drips from Jungkook’s forehead as he struggles to hang on. He’s drawing this out; savoring the moment just like you are, but both of you are nearing your peaks, and it’s only moments before you topple over the edge. “I want this forever.”

“You have it, though. I’m not going anywhere,” you promise. “I’m yours.”

“Oh, fuck.”

Jungkook’s movements stutter when he hears your voice speaking to him through your soft moans. Your words are like a match igniting a flame deep inside of him. He begins fucking you harder, like he’s on a mission to ruin you.

“Shit. Come on my dick, baby,” he moans, probably waking the neighbors. “Make a mess.”

At his command, your body gives in and chases the pleasure it’s been longing for. You scream his name like it’s the only word you know. Your soul leaves you lying on the bed and elevates to the ceiling, probably even further. You tremble and shake beneath him as the coil snaps inside of you, sending ripples of pleasure shooting through your veins.

Your arousal gushes out of you with enough force to push Jungkook’s dick out of you. He slaps your pussy repeatedly, milking you dry while he strokes his shaft. As you lay there, squirting out the last of your orgasm, you slowly return to your body, but you’re still basking in your post-sex daze.

“Flip over.”

Jungkook turns you on your stomach and straddles your thighs. He strokes his cock while he stares at your ass, still tender from all the spanking he did early. He slaps it with enough force to get a muffled moan out of you. Your head remains buried in the pillow because your body refuses to move an inch.

“Softest fucking ass on the planet,” he mumbles. “And all mine.”

You relax under his touch as his large hand begins to massage your flesh. You become more exhausted as the seconds tick by. Jungkook’s pants and moans fill your ears as he chases his high, and soon his breaths become shallower, indicating that he’s approaching his release.

“Fuck.”

Moments later warm droplets of his cum paint your ass while Jungkook cries your name. He plops on top of you, careful not to use all of his weight, and leaves kisses along your shoulder. When his breathing settles, he gets up and finds a shirt to clean your body. He covers you with the blanket when he’s done so you aren’t cold.

“Are you still with me?” he asks, and you giggle.

“I’m here.”

“Well, I wish you’d say something.”

When you turn your head in his direction, you find him standing there in all of his naked glory, his dick slowly deflating, but still standing at attention while he chugs down his leftover beer.

“Maybe you should drink some water,” you suggest.

He puts the mug down and raises a finger. “You’re absolutely right. I’ll be back.”

When Jungkook leaves, the door remains open and someone else enters the room moments later. You don’t even flinch when Bam jumps on the bed, claiming his spot at the end. You’re just glad he’s finally warmed up to you. At first, you think he was a little jealous, but you guess he realized that with you in the picture, he receives two times the love and attention.

Jungkook’s footsteps make their way down the hall and he’s shocked by the sight of his pup lying beside you when he enters the room.

“I see you two have finally become friends,” he points out. He walks over to the bed and gives Bam some love while he whispers to him. “Don’t steal my girl, dude.”

You giggle and shake your head, as if Bam would ever leave his side. You’ve noticed that he has been more drawn to you lately, but you think it’s just him getting used to you being around. He knows you aren’t going to steal his dad from him, so now he’s more open to spending time with you.

“Did you bring me some water?”

Jungkook nods. “Of course.”

He gives you the water bottle and you sit up so you can drink some. Jungkook sits beside you and waits for you to finish.

You know he’s about to ask you something, so you quickly gulp down your water to get it over and done with.

On cue, he speaks.

“You still haven’t given me an answer.”

“Ah,” you sigh. “I don’t know, Jungkook.”

“That’s not an answer. I mean no is fine, but I just wanted some kind of idea about where this is going,” he states.

You’ve thought about it, and dating Jungkook isn’t a bad idea. You’re just nervous because this is going so well and you don’t want to mess it up. However, the advice your friend gave you a week ago still plays in your mind.

“If you really need more time, it’s fine but I feel like you’ve been holding back too. I want you in my life, Bam wants you to be his mom, and—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt, fighting back a smile, but you fail.

“What is it?”

You set your water on the nightstand and grab his hand. You absentmindedly trace his tattoos, while you talk to him.

“I’m nervous because I don’t want this ‘honeymoon’ phase to end,” you start. You can see his shoulders droop because he thinks this is bad news. However, it's not. “But every day we grow closer, so why should I let my mind prevent my heart from being happy?”

“You are so fucking trashed,” he blurts out. “Did I really fuck you that good?”

“Jungkook shut the fuck up. I was trying to be deep. Leave me alone.”

You try to turn away and go to bed but he pulls you on his lap.

“Hey, I’m kidding. That was cute,” he says. “I got it. You like me, and I like you. Let’s just continue to take it slow.”

“Thanks.”

“Mhm. But just so we’re clear, you’re my girlfriend now by default because we just… Well, you know.”

“I’ll be that,” you reply. “As long as you’re my… boy boy b-b-b-b-b-boyfriend.”

When Jungkook rolls his eyes, you erupt with laughter, knowing he doesn’t want to admit he likes BTR.

“Whatever, go to sleep.”

“In my bed, or yours?” you ask.

“Don’t start.”

You both snuggle together on the dry side of the bed while Bam snores peacefully at your feet. Jungkook hugs you from behind and the two of you slowly drift off to sleep.

“Goodnight,” you whisper.

But your boyfriend has already tapped out. Looks like you’re the real champ around here.

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed this story, please consider reblogging and/or leaving feedback.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #thekpopuniverse #bangtansorciere #bangtanbathhouse #kvanity #jungkook fanfics #fic: hours #sugakookitty

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dilfl0v3rss · 10 months

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all yours

when it came to your safety, onyankopon played zero games. if he felt even the slightest bit of worry he had no problem getting you from wherever you may be. there have been times where you’ve been walked out of parties, stores, and even something as little as a smoke sesh with your girls. if ony felt you were unsafe you were going home no questions asked, and you honestly didn’t have an issue with it. feeling a sense of pride in having a man that cares so deeply for you. that was until tonight…

the two of you were at your friend ivy’s place for her big housewarming party when you were getting weird stares from a couple hating ass bitches. ivy didn’t want her party to be small so she told each person she invited to tell some friends to come as well. which led to this weird ass bitch brielle hearing about the party and deciding to curse everyone with her presence. brielle was an old fling of ony’s that he been cut off like a year ago, but she’s so thick in the head that she still runs her mouth about him to this very day. you, being the classy woman you are, have been ignoring the bitch because it honestly was sad of her to be acting like this, but today she reached her limit.

when you and ony first arrived everything was great. “heyy bitchhhh. so glad y’all could make ittt.” ivy screamed as she welcomed you and ony into her new home. ony greeted her with a small “wassup, thank you for havin’ us” before letting you have the floor, walking towards jean and connie to talk. “hey boooo. this place is niceeee you gotta let me spend the night sooon” the two of you talked for awhile before she let you go to get a drink from the kitchen. as you filled your red solo cup halfway with casamigos you noticed some girls approaching where your boyfriend and his friends were. before being able to move, you were stopped by sasha, mikasa and.

sasha was the first to talk. “you peep that shit right?” she said, nodding her head towards the girls. you knew if one of your friends was going to say something about what was going on it would be sasha. mikasa was on the quieter side, but best believe when it came to you she didn’t play either. “yea i see em. that bird ass bitch and her lil flock of pigeons tryna play games” the three of you watched as brielle and her little sidekicks were all up in you boyfriend’s faces. brielle being the main one, lightly hitting ony’s chest while she laughed. her red bussdown was flowing behind her as she pushed it over her shoulder, purposely trying to bounce her tiddies as she “fixed” her hair.

being the levelheaded woman you are, you decided against approaching them. knowing that you’d probably knock the bitches head off her shoulders if you went anywhere near her right now. so you pulled out your phone and sent ony a quick and simple text. ony looked at his phone almost immediately, knowing it was you who texted him since he had it on dnd for everyone else.

my wife💐

‘tell that bitch move around or ima drag her outta here omm😐’

as soon as he read the text, ony lifted his head and began searching for you. soon he locked eyes with yours, excusing himself from whatever conversation was going on and making his way to the kitchen. “what’s wrong now?” is this nigga dumb? did he not just see and feel that bitch being weird touching on him? “nun bruh just tell that hoe to keep her distance. that hair look new and i’d hate to have that shit on the floor” as the two of you conversed you couldn’t help but peep ivy and her friends start to mug you and your girls. eventually making their way towards you. before you can even point it out your thoughts were cut off by sasha. “yea i’m finna flip dis hoe. got me all the way fucked up.”

ony watched your friends start to remove their earrings and adjust their clothes, and being the nonconfrontational man that he was he decided it was time for you to go. “go tell ivy we leavin’ and wait f’me in the car ma. i’ll get you a slice of ca-” “nah i’m good right here.” you cut him off, eager to see what this bitch was on. as they approached y’all you see that sasha and mikasa were quick to be at your side, standing face to face with each of brielle’s friends. “you got a problem wit me shawty?” brielle smirked, looking you up and down and taking pride in pissing you off. but your mouth was smart and even though it got you in trouble with your man, there was nothing you couldn’t handle when it came to other people.

“nah but you seem to have a problem that i got the nigga you want” you spit back with a smile. you could see that your comment got under her skin. she was rolling her eyes as she replied. “nah ion got a problem when i know i can have em right back anytime. like last saturday for instance.” this bitch is a liar and you knew it. laughing at loud as both her and your friends looked at you confused. last saturday ony was home the entire day, and you can only remember it so vividly because he had you face down in the mattress for cursing him out over being late to brunch. you also remembered it so vividly because he recorded most of it on your phone. “tuhh bitch please pick a different lie because you know damn well he was with me. now are we gon sit here and chit chat or you tryna take this outside cause ian really with allat talkin’. ”

before the bird could reply, ony stepped in the middle of yall and tried to play the mediator. “y/n. get in the car, now. and brielle, what we had been over for a long ass time now. give that shit up and move on.” you backed down, feeling that no bitch was worth getting into it with your man. you were lowkey tired of being the bigger person, but knew i’d be better this way than just fighting and possibly ruining your friends party. as you made your way around ony, you gave brielle the illest mug ever to let her know that even though you’re leaving, you still ain’t no bitch. it wasn’t even five seconds since you left the kitchen where you can hear the bitch starting up again. “i don’t know why you still dealin’ wit that bitch. don’t you miss me ponpon?” brielle said in a baby like voice.

“nah chill wit that bitch word bro. and you really needa stop running your fuckin’ mouth bout her too cause i may not be here next time to stop her” you smiled while ony shut that bitch down. you knew he was more on the calm side so hearing him raise his voice a little turned you on. “oh please nigga you know damn well her shit nowhere as good as mine. used to have your soul leaving your body and allat. you can act like you don’t miss me but ik that dick think otherwise.” that was it for you. it was in the blink of an eye when you were dragging that bitch outside by her hair. honestly you needed whatever glue she got bc her shit wasn’t moving an inch. as you pulled her down the steps of ivy’s porch, you felt ony trying to grab at your wrists.

“mama let her hair go right now.” he yelled. you whip your head to the side, face to face with your man as he stared at you with a warning in his eyes. your fingers instantly straightened before brielle dropped to the ground. the stare this man was giving you made your heart start pumping rapidly. through his eyes you could tell that he was saying “don’t test me”, and you had no intention of finding out what would happen if you did. it was almost instantly when ony grabbed the top of your arm, quickly walking you to his car. most of the people were already outside, migrating there as they watched you drag brielle from the kitchen to the porch. ony opened your door and you sat down, ready to leave this whole day behind already. before you could close the door you heard brielle yapping again.

“fuck you bitch you can have the nigga. ain’t nun but a piece of dick anywayssss.” you hopped out the car and sprinted towards brielle with a quickness. as she seen you approaching she tried to square up but her hands were trash. punches were flying from everywhere, connecting right to her face every time. you honestly didn’t really care too much about what she said about you, but when it came to your boyfriend there was a line to be crossed. and she stomped right over it. “keep. my. man. name. out. your. fuckin’. mouth. bitch.” she was now laid on the floor with her arms shielding her bleeding face while you continued to throw blows her way. sasha seen her friends inching up about to jump in and shut it down immediately. “if you move anotha inch ima start swinging too. we don’t do nun of that jumping shit so i wish you would try so i can fuck you up right here.”

her friends looked at each other before back up completely, not wanting any problemsm. before long you felt strong arms wrap around you, lifting you off the ground and away from brielle. you were thrown into the backseat of ony’s car before he turned the child lock on, not being able to trust you to not open the door and attack again. he made his way to the front seat and threw a handful of tissue towards you from the glove compartment. the two of you were driving home in complete silence as you wiped your hands clean. usually your man would be lecturing you right now, but there was a calmness to him that frightened you. “umm…are you mad at me?”

he ignored you, asking his own question instead. “why do you get so jealous?” he mumbled, glancing at you in the rear view mirror. you rolled your eyes, acting as if what he was saying was the most ridiculous thing in the world when in actuality, he was right. you knew that ony and brielle been done way before you even came in the picture, but the thought of him even being with her made you feel a way. ony knew you very well and he could tell how you were feeling regardless of what you did or said.

“mama how many times i gotta tell you i’m only yours huh? why can’t you just trust me?” his grip on the steering wheel tightened as he kept replaying the nights events over and over again in his head. “how you expect me to trust you when you okay wit letting bitches be in your face? bitches you used to fuck!” you yelled, holding back tears as you moved your gaze out the window. ony opened his mouth to speak, but decided against going back and forth with you any longer. “we’ll fix this at my crib. not finna argue wit you in the car”

when the two of you made it to his apartment, ony wasted no time, leading you to his room before sitting you down on his lap. “so why you don’t trust me?” he asked, his handing running all over your back as he awaited your reply. you looked at the ground tears threatening to spill from your eyes as you tried your hardest to keep your voice from wavering. “i do” ony sucked his teeth at your words, lightly grabbing your chin and facing you towards him so you could see the knowing look he was giving you. “don’t lie mama, you said it in the car. why don’t you trust me?” the tears you’ve been fighting finally broke free as you quickly covered your eyes and sobbed into his lap. “i-it’s not you pa. i-i was just a little jealous b’cause you were letting her….her-” your cries took most of your breath from you, making you have to stop in the middle of your sentence so you can take a breath. “sh sh sh i get it baby. how you want me t’fix it huh?”you shrugged your shoulders at his question, not having an idea on how he could make this horrible night any better. “a-any way you can”

a soft smile made its way to ony’s face as he lightly pushed you down on your back. he removed your bottoms before slowly getting on his knees. “this way okay?” he asked, chuckling at how you eagerly nodded your head as an answer. it wasn’t long before ony had you a blabbering mess, his fingers digging into you slowly as he took in each of you pretty face expressions. “say it again baby” your back was arched off the bed as you repeated the words ony planned to have to chanting all night. “y-you’re all mine shitt” your moans made his dick grow stiff in his pants as ony looked at the sight of your glistening wet pussy. he quickly pulled his fingers out, laying his tongue flat on your clit before eating you out sloppily.

the feeling of his skilled tongue made you scream as you pushed and pulled on his head. “again” he mumbled into your pussy, too addicted to fully take his mouth away as he looked up at your pretty face. “all mine daddy a-all mine” ony sucked softly on your clit, letting his tongue run all over it in his mouth to quickly grab an orgasm out of you. his tactic worked, making him smile as he felt your juices begin to rush out of you and wet his chin. “good girl mama”

ony stood up in front of you, taking in the sight of your post orgasmic glow as he rubbed himself through his sweatpants. the sight of his bulge made you whine in want as you slowly leaned up to free him from his pants. ony quickly grabbed your hand, giving you a soft expression before lightly pushing flat onto the bed. “s’not about me right now mama. let me do this for you ‘kay?” you nodded your head at his words, making ony give you a like tap on your thigh to make you jump. “lemme hear your voice” at the sound of the small “yes” you gave him, ony slowly freed his dick from the confines of his sweats before lining it up with your tight entrance. “say it again”

“you’re all m-….ohmygoddd” the feeling of his thick dick sinking into your walls made a pretty cry fall from your lips. your back arching off the bed as your hand quickly flew to his wrists. ony didn’t let up, his pace slow, but his thrusts deep as he dug into you with love. “yea m’all yours mama. who dick is it?” your eyes were already at the back of your skull. small whimpers falling from your lips as you tried your hardest not to let your mind drift off into the clouds. “s’m….s’mine daddy” your words were slurred as you felt his dick begin to kiss your cervix in a way that made you want to scream. “ooouuu fuckkk”

ony’s pace began to quicken. the force of his quicker thrusts making your body begin to jerk a little on the sheets. he slowly pulled up your shirt, freeing your perky breasts before leaning down to latch his mouth onto one of your nipples. the feeling of his wet tongue on the sensitive bud making you grow wetter as you caressed the back of his head. you knew there would be marks in the morning, but you didn’t care. letting your man prove to you how much he loves and cares about you through making sweet love to your body. ony released your nipple with a small pop before moving up to your neck.

the dark purple marks were already beginning to form in both of the areas as he slowly moved his lips to your ear. “say it again f’me mama. don’t want you t’forget” as ony waited for your reply, he leaned up from your body, staring down at you lovingly before pulling out of you completely. you matched his gaze, your brown eyes big and watery as you told him the words he longed to hear. “you’re mine” with that ony flipped you onto your stomach, quickly thrusting back into you before fucking you at a fast pace. his dick kissed all the right places in you as you cried out into the air. “oh…oh my goddd daddy right there!” ony smirked as you continued to moan for him. he just started and you were already ready to make a mess all over the sheets. the sloppy sounds of his dick stroking your pussy ringing through the air as proof.

“s’too soon, need you t’hold it f’me ma. can you do that?” you quickly nodded your head, earning you a hard snap of his hips that made you yelp in pleasurable pain. “what i tell you before? talk t’me baby” he was pounding you into the sheets now, your back arched to perfection as ony kept a hand on your back and another at the top of your ass. “i….i can hold it daddy” a smile spread into ony’s brown features as he listened to your whiny voice. your pussy fluttering as you felt his thumb rub over your tight hole. “you want me to?” he asked, chuckling at how quickly you whined out a “yes daddy….please”. ony moved his hand before letting his spit drip from his mouth to your ass.

lightly rubbing his spit outside the brown hole before he lightly fed it the tip of his thumb. you moaned at the sensation, throwing yourself back on him to get more if his dick along with poking your ass out more. “greedy thing” he groaned before fully sheathing his tumb inside of you. the sight made his dick twitch as ony began to fuck you harder and faster. occasionally stroking your puckering hole with his thumb to keep you on edge.

“you trust me now baby?” he breathed, the sight and sound of your pretty moans and even prettier body making it hard for him not to want to shoot his load deep inside of you. “y-yes daddy….with my life”

“you gon cut out the jealousy shit?” ony began to pound into you, using his free hand to push your arch down deeper as he quickly fucked the both of you closer to your orgasms. “mmm..mhm n-no more” the feeling of his long dick repeatedly hitting your g spot made your legs shake under you as you began to soak the sheets under you with drool. “say it one more time for me beautiful and we gon cum together” tears fell from your eyes at the rush of emotions flowing through your body right now. the feeling of love and trust being the most powerful as you felt the coil in your stomach begin to snap.

“you’re all mine”

#aot x black reader #onyankopon x black reader #onyankopon x reader #aot onyankopon #onyankopon x black!reader #aot smut #aot onyankopon x black y/n #aot onyankopon x black reader #aot onyankopon x black!reader #onyankopon aot #aot onyankopon smut #ony x black reader #onyankopon smut

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bellezaycafe · 3 months

Text

Get Your Shit Together - Chapter 7

genre: 2024 and onwards AU, with the 2024 starting grid.

pairing: Romantic!oc x that triangle y’all voted on. Platonic!oc x the whole grid.

warnings: swearing, mentions of physical crimes, discussions about gangs, mentions of bars and alcohol. Besties arguing. talk about the accident in chapter 4.

context: Part 1 and Masterlist…

comments: here’s the Max and Sadie content I promised. I like to reveal details slowly, as you can tell. Also, I’m writing Oscar like he’s a genius because I can see him putting the pieces together before anyone else.

Also, I'm not referring to AlphaTauri as Visa Cash App Racing Bulls or whatever their rumoured name is.

The three time World Driver Champion grumbled as his phone buzzed. He was tired of people texting him. He wanted one day of peace.

Lando: you should have told me

Max: Told you what?

Lando: why sadie disappeared

Max froze and knew his peaceful day was gone. Either Lewis had spilled, which was unlikely, or Lando had found the Australian girl.

Max: Who told you?

Lando: she did

Lando: you should have told me

“Goddamn it, Lando,” he muttered and pulled himself off of his couch.

Max: I take it you found her

Lando: by accident

Lando: but yeah we found her

Max sighed and tapped the call icon. This would go so much faster if he wasn’t wasting time typing.

Lando picked up in two rings.

“Witness fucking protection, Max,” he greeted.

“Is she with you now?” It was the first thing on Max’s mind.

“No.“

He couldn’t see Lando’s face but Max could hear him pacing.

“Lando-“

“Witness protection, Max. Gangs! Attempted assault!” The boy was raging.

But Max picked up the details Sadie had never told him.

“She’s told you more than she did me. What attempted assault?”

Lando didn’t reply as another voice, faint from distance, interrupted them.

“No, I’m not giving you the phone. Go ta- Hey!”

There was a scuffle and Max Fewtrell’s came over the line.

“Max, mate. Can you stop this dumb fuck from doing something stupid?”

“It’s Lando Norris,” the Dutchman commented.

“Yeah, that’s the fucking problem.”

There was more background arguments which had Max impatiently tapping his foot.

“Right, I’ve got the phone now,” came Oscar’s accent. “And you’re on speaker. Do you want me to explain?”

Max grunted an affirmative.

“Right. Sadie works a bar at a restaurant about 45 minutes drive from here. Lando and Max went there for dinner because Daniel said it was good and low key. Lando recognised her, she recognised him. She drove him back to my mums house and apparently ‘explained what she could’ on the way.”

Max could hear irritation in the young Australian’s voice and wondered why he was riled up.

“Okay, and now she’s gone again?”

“Yes,” Lando whined.

“And she left without giving you a way to contact her,” the Dutchman guessed.

“Yes,” Lando grumbled.

“Sadie has our numbers,” Oscar added. “Lando’s and mine.”

“She’ll text you if she wants to.” Max tried to reassure.

“Will she?” Oscar asked.

“I don’t know,” the Dutchman admitted.

“She unpredictable,” Lando observed.

“No shit,” came Max Fewtrell’s voice. “She took your fucking car to the leg for you. If anything is unpredictable, that’s it!”

“Right, I’m going. You three can argue amongst yourselves, but trust me on one thing. Don’t chase her. Sadie is scared and she would rather hurt you than risk herself.”

“I don’t believe that,” Lando stated. “She risked herself for me once. She did it without thinking, she-”

“Lando, she was doing her job.” Max cut him off and he flinched at the harshness of his own voice. “I’m going. Don’t do anything stupid.”

And he hung up.

Then pulled up a contact he hadn’t touched since the beginning of November.

She answered faster than Lando had.

“He called you, didn’t he?” Sadie’s voice was a little distant and Max could hear the road noise. He knew her car had bluetooth and wasn’t concerned.

“Yeah,” Max sighed out the confirmation.

“Did you give him my number?”

The distrust stung.

“I swore that I wouldn’t. Kid, I haven’t even given it to Lewis.”

He heard Sadie sigh.

“Just checking,” she grumbled.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” A lie.

“Kid-“

“Max, I’m 21.”

“Don’t care. You keep lying to me and I’m gonna keep calling you kid.”

Kelly walked into the kitchen, still in her pyjamas despite the late morning. She immediately knew who he was talking to. She raised an eyebrow at him and poured herself a cup of coffee.

Max flicked the phone onto speaker.

“I’m fine, dumbass.”

“You’re not.” But he wouldn’t push, he’d learnt not to.

“I will be.” It was always the same answer, again and again.

“Alright well, check in with me like usual okay?”

Sadie muttered a confirmation but Max knew that she was debating a disappearing act.

“Sadie,” -he hoped using her name would connect with her heart, rather than her fear- “just the check in. You know you don’t have to do more.”

“I know that I don’t have to do anything,” she quipped. It wasn’t a snap, she’d never snapped at Max. “But okay, I’ll text you in December.”

“Thank you.”

“Have a good day, Max.”

Max rolled his eyes. Of course she had already worked out the timezones.

“Have a good night, kid.”

To be fair, he had too.

The call disconnected and Kelly placed her hand on Max’s. It was a silent reassurance that Max appreciated.

“Penelope will finish her TV time soon,” Kelly said as she kissed his cheek.

He snaked a hand around his girlfriend’s waist and drew her close.

“We should go out for lunch,” she added.

“Thank you,” Max said into her lips.

It was a grateful sentiment that held far too many layers for his tired mind.

——$——

December landed while Max was battling it out in Qatar. Oscar had taken Saturday's sprint, again, and fought hard during Sunday's race. The Dutchman had defended through the final four laps, fending off both Australians in cars that shouldn’t have been outperforming the Ferrari’s or Mercedes’.

But Oscar had pulled an impressive P2 for a second year in a row, and Daniel had been all smiles as he'd pulled his AlphaTauri into P3.

But as Max hauled himself out of his hotel bed on Monday morning, thoroughly hungover, he found a text from Sadie.

She'd set her own contact name in his phone.

Ego Crusher: All safe and okay here. I know that Qatar was this weekend, saw that you won. Congrats on another win. Congrats to Oscar for beating your slow ass in the sprint. He's good at keeping you on your toes.

Ego Crusher: I didn't tell you until now because I wanted you to focus on Qatar, but the trial started last Wednesday. Should finish Monday my time. I'll let you know what the result is. This is the last four.

Max hissed out a breath, both at his aching skull and her news. He checked his time in Qatar, 9:30am, and did the mental maths for Melbourne time. Sadie would just starting work, 5:30pm, if she had shifts during the trial.

The Crushed: Thanks for letting me know you're okay. I hope the trial is going well.

The Crushed: I know you said you don't want to leave Australia but if any of those dicks are acquitted I'm sending someone to get you.

He left his phone on the kitchen counter, poured himself a glass of water and contemplated his capacity for the energy of Daniel Ricciardo that day.

Max's phone chimed. He cursed at the sound's affect on his headache and flipped it over.

*new message from Ego Crusher*

So Sadie wasn't at work.

Ego Crusher: Yeah, yeah. You said that already. Tell Kelly I say hi and give P a hug for me when you next see her.

The Crushed: Will do.

The Crushed: Update me.

Ego Crusher: Will do :)

Max flicked his phone onto silent, texted an update to Kelly and went to put it back on the countertop. Before he let it go, it vibrated again.

*new message from Oscar Piastri*

He cursed in Dutch.

Oscar Piastri: I know you're in contact with Sadie. She told Lando and I about the trial back in Melbourne. We haven't heard from her and we're worried.

He swore again.

Max Verstappen: She'd kill me if she knew I told you.

Oscar Piastri: You just confirmed it but okay

Max Verstappen: If I said nothing Lando would try to find her again and then we'd all be worried.

Oscar Piastri: You're not wrong

Max Verstappen: She updated me overnight. Trial is still going but so far so good.

Max Verstappen: How long have you known?

Oscar Piastri: Figured it out after you hung up on Lando in Melbourne. You spoke about her like you knew her.

Oscar Piastri: And thank you.

Max finally set the phone down, sighed and cursed, again. His life had never been simple but he didn't know if it had ever been as complicated as it was since Sadie had appeared.

He had siblings. He had Victoria. He had quite a few of them amongst his father's numerous marriages. And he was familiar with the protectiveness that came with being an older brother, and essentially a step-dad.

But he wasn't quite sure how to protect someone who didn't want his protection. Or wasn't actually his sister.

----$----

I did promise some Sadie and Max. I didn't promise it was going to be sunshine and joy though.

@snubug @cmleitora @izzy-marvel @aquangxl

a few came up with “no blog found” so i hope they worked

#f1 #f1 fic #formula 1 #formula one #f1 imagine #lando norris #f1 x oc #f1 fanfic #get your shit together #max verstappen #oscar piastri

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the-crustation-sensation · 7 months

Text

Even more Hobie x reader hc’s!!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N Just SFW for now bc I have NO ideas for smut currently 😭

I might post some later tho <3

As always I write these for anyone to insert, so non-gendered terms are used (:

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚

* I am SICK AND TIRED of you guys hcing him as a dirty troll. just bc he’s a punk does not mean he doesn’t have fucking hygiene skills. Yes ofc he’s Spider-Man so he doesn’t have a lot of free time but it’s not like he goes a month without showering

* I feel like most of the time he smells like old cologne (probably something with musk, oak, or vanilla) and weed

* I’m also tired of you guys hcing him as a toxic asshole (bro LITERALLY helped miles without even knowing him, and how already homies within like the first 10 minutes of meeting)

* With that said you already know he’d be the most caring and attentive partner

* He definitely has a note on his phone of things you like, are passionate about, and mentioned wanting. It just keeps growing bc he wants to keep track of everything you love 😭

* Anytime he gives you a gift he hand makes it (or alternatively gets it from a small business) he says it feels more meaningful and personal

* I think his love languages are acts of service and physical touch

* This man is obsessed with showing you off to EVERYONEEE. He would definitely pull you onstage during one of his concerts just to be like “hey everyone this is my S/O”

* He would love walking around with his hand in your back pocket, or yours In his

* He’s a crow, 100% picks up random stuff off of the sidewalk that caught his eye and gives it to you

* kind of a huge klepto He does not hesitate shoplifting from big corporations when he sees something he knows you’d like

* Although he would never EVER steal from a small business

* Just imagine he comes home and gives you a shirt for a band you like and you see the security tag is still on 😭 and he’s like “what 🤨”

* Definitely a “hmm?” “Oh yeah?” “Is that so?” “Make me” type of guy (SCREAMING)

* He’s such a tease, and just a brat in general. Just imagine your fed up and ask him to do something and he pulls the “yes ma’am/sir” move

* He’s the type of help bust you out of a holding cell/help you run from the police (he’s your partner in crime I’ll die on this hill)

* He love starting harmless beef with people online for no reason, specifically getting into fights with kids on ROBLOX just to see them get mad

* Man has like 1029292 emails to make new accounts bc he’s gotten banned from doing this so many times 😭

* He loves playing video games with you. especially if your playing something like cod or a racing game he would aggressively wiggle your controls to mess you up and act like nothing happened

* Ok ok hear me out, he doesn’t believe in games or things having an age limit, so he would play those 2 player ROBLOX obbys with you. He also LOVES playing horror games with you, you guys always yell at eachother over who has to go in front tho

* Y’all can communicate without even speaking ISTG

* He discreetly nudges your shoulder during a meeting and side eyes someone in the room, translates to “you see this shit??” Glancing towards the door then at you “let’s ditch this” peeking over someone’s shoulder and making eye contact with you while he’s talking to someone “HELP ME.” Or alternatively “is this bitch FR??”

* He has the mouth of a sailor, has taught mayday multiple cus words and acts like nothing happened

* He LOVES kids, absolutely loves them, he would be such an amazing parent

THIS IS HIM PROVE ME WRONG

* This might be an unpopular opinion but I don’t think he would give a shit what race/gender you are, he loves you for YOU and doesn’t care what color you are or what’s in-between your legs (in short he’s bisexual and doesn’t give a shit about whatever you are, he’s here for your personality)

* I think his favorite flavor of juice would be cranberry, but like the rlly tart cranberry juice

* Height thing’s but not because your short, just bc he’s freakishly tall

* As a fandom we’ve already established he does the thing where your cooking, or minding your own business, and he hugs you from behind and puts his chin on your head/shoulder

* I don’t think he has a “type” per say, but I feel like he’d prefer people who are also in any sort of alternative culture (punk, goth, emo, alt, and I dare say earthy/fairy TO AN EXTENT counts for that)

* I am biased because you can’t tell me this man wouldn’t fuck with a goth bitch, or just another punk (his WEAKNESS is punk girls)

* He loves doing makeup for you, especially eyeliner because that gives him and excuse to get you to sit in his lap

* If you don’t already play guitar, he would defiantly teach you by sitting behind you with his head on your shoulder to show you the right cords

* And he’s definitely gonna be praising tf outta you “good job” “yeah, you got it love” “mhm just like that”

* He also loves doing your hair/helping you do/cut your hair, no matter what texture it is

* I feel like before he settled in punk he went through an emo phase in middle school, and HATES his pictures from that era, like he would tackle someone to get it away if they found any trace of it

* He probably had some fuck ass fake piercings because his parents wouldn’t let him get real ones, and crusty eyeliner in his 7Th grade school photo

* I think his first face piercing was a nose piercing he got done in the school bathrooms in 10th grade by some girl with a safety pin

* It 100% got hella infected and he got so grounded for that

* He puts you first in almost every situation, like it he’s in the middle of a mission with another spider, and you text him, it will be like that scene with miles fighting the spot because he will text you back no matter WHAT

* I’m not sure about this one but I think his world is set in the early 70s (when punk fashion started getting more popular) so when he first came to HQ and saw all of this new text he was amazed and confused as hell

* It took him like a week to figure out most of that shit at HQ

* Most people don’t know he lives on a house houseboat, but I absolutely love that.

* Shit constantly falls off of his shelves from the waves but he couldn’t give 2 fucks about it

* he hates being called “Hobart” if you call him that he’ll either not respond, or know that your PISSED and shits about to go down

* he’s definitely pansexual or bisexual, like I said he loves pussy and dick equally, I feel like also hes either a transman, or AMAB and gender-fluid. Either way there’s no way he’s a cis man, he ATLEAST is he/they

* if he is a transman he would get top surgery but I don’t think he would get bottom surgery, he loves his man-pussy and he thinks if your too brainwashed by society’s gender norms then fuck you

* I think he would also get vines or mushrooms, or like barbed wire tattooed near his top scars

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Alright that’s everything I have for today! If you have any ideas please don’t hesitate to comment or to hit up my asks! I have a few asks I’m currently working on but I also have a bigger original story I’m writing so I’ve kinda been in writers block

If you want to be apart of my tag list don’t hesitate to ask (:

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚

#into the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #hobie brown x reader #astv hobie #hobie brown #accross the spiderverse #astv #hobie headcanons #hobie brown x you #spiderpunk x reader #spider punk x y/n #spiderpunk

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streamingcolors-gvf · 1 year

Text

Skin Deep - Part 5

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!reader x Jake Kiszka

Word count: 11.5k

A/N: I’ve been really excited about this chapter, but I’m not sure how good I really feel about it. I hope y’all enjoy this update! ❤️

Also, before anyone comes at me for ethics about this smut scene with Josh, it’s fantasy. I am fully aware (and hope y’all are too) that no tattoo artist should ever do this.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of marijuana, graphic sexual content - 18+ MINORS DNI!! (unprotected penetrative sex, fingering, nipple play, a bit of a glove kink)

Part 4, Masterpost, Playlist

You crack open Josh’s bedroom door a few inches so you can peer out into the hallway to see if Jake is awake until Josh pushes it completely open. He slips by you while still completely naked, walking down the hall into the bathroom. You feel a little lightheaded, your head buzzing from the massive hit you took, making you feel like you're simultaneously glued to the floor while fearing you might float away, yet your feet carry you to the bathroom even if your mind drifts elsewhere.

Following him with weightless steps into the bathroom, you pull the t-shirt Jake had given you the night before off your body and toss it to the ground. The boxers are the second thing to go, but before you could slip them off your legs, Josh gasps loudly, “Holy shit!”

You startle, turning to face him in search of the reason for his sudden outburst. “What?!”

His eyes widen with shock, locking onto your body as he steps forward with an extended hand, and brushes his fingertips over the small of your back with a cautious touch. “Did you guys fuck or were you attacked by a rabid animal?”

You glance down to inspect your lower body, finding that your waist and legs are marked with faint scratches and small finger-sized bruises. They’re little reminders, causing the memories of your night spent with Jake to flash before your eyes. As a blush creeps up, your immediate reaction is to laugh, causing the nervous sound to echo throughout the bathroom as you step inside the shower.

Josh doesn’t join in on the laughter, but instead approaches you with concern laden in his strained voice as he studies the rest of your skin for evidence, “Are you okay?”

He follows you in, closing the glass door behind him as you tilt your head under the stream of water.“Yeah, I’m okay.” Your eyes are closed with the water rolling down your face, but you can feel his presence as he steps closer. He doesn’t say anything, only letting the sounds of the shower patter through the bathroom. You peek through your eyelids to see him staring at you. “I promise!”

As he closes the last bit of distance between you, his stance softens with each step. He guides you in by the hips so your body connects with his, a position very reminiscent of the first shower you took together.

You peer up at him as the hot water cascades over the both of you. He meets your eyes through wet lashes, smiling as he teases, “So you like being tied up, huh?”

You haven’t had the chance to process last night, so you shrug non-committedly, reaching around him for the bottle of shampoo. “I think so.”

He rests his arms on your shoulder as he kisses you, but only for a quick peck on the lips. “Kinky girl. And you say I’m the one to surprise you.”

After getting dressed, you gather whatever things you brought from around his room and step out into the hallway once again. You make your way out into the living room with Josh not far behind. You try to stay quiet by walking softly over the hardwood, assuming that Jake is sound asleep, but once you’re within earshot of the kitchen, you’re able to hear the sounds of him moving around.

You see him standing at the island, facing you as he makes himself a simple breakfast. He’s shirtless this morning, giving you the full view of his tanned skin — an image that you’ve gladly seen a few times now. But there’s something different about seeing his collection of tattoos in the daylight like you have a newfound appreciation for the artistry and talent within each one. You watch closely, simply enamored by the way they move and stretch with each breath he takes, every minuscule movement of his body. It might be because you’re still high, but there’s no doubt you could stand here and gawk at him for hours.

The only item of clothing he’s wearing is his worn gray sweatpants, a pair that he’s probably had since high school, sitting low on his waist, right below his hip joints. The bottom side of his bagel is already wedged in his mouth with his teeth sinking into the thick smear of cream cheese as he swipes the butter knife across the toasted top half.

As you carefully venture closer, he breaks his focus away from his task to look up at you, and bites fully through the bagel so he can mumble around his chewing, “Was wondering what happened to you.”

You’re standing at the opposite side of the kitchen island, losing yourself in his tired, toffee-colored eyes, noticing the small, dark bags formed beneath them from lack of sleep. He looks over your outfit through the silence, and a small smile forms as he chews. Before you can explain your absence from his bed this morning, he sets his bagel down, dusts off the crumbs from his fingers, and turns away to reach for the coffee pot sitting in the machine behind him.

The moment feels vulnerable like you’re pulling back the curtain to see that there’s no mask, no role that he’s put on, no cocky persona that he’s been more than comfortable adopting in a place like his tattoo shop. That this right here is simply a mundane task of him filling up his favorite mug with piping hot coffee wearing only his most-beloved pair of sweatpants.

Nothing about his tone or body language gives any indication that he’s upset with you, but you still feel on edge nonetheless. You clear your throat from the nervousness prickling in the back of your mind, but still squeak out your response in a sheepish voice, “Sorry about that.”

He holds his mug up, looking at you with an intensity you haven’t seen yet as the steam plumes around his face. “You have nothing to be sorry for, dove.” The calm, sleepy rasp of his voice feels like a perfect scratch to a place you’ve been dying to itch.

Your thought is interrupted by Josh’s dramatic entrance of him sliding across the bare floor on his socks, knocking into you with a gentle bump of his hip into yours. You can tell it’s all to make you laugh and lighten the mood, so you push out the strained sound as he stands behind you. His hands start at your shoulders and work their way down your arms until they are planted on the countertop on either side of you, boxing you in.

He places a soft kiss on your exposed shoulder, breathing in the shower you took together off your skin, and runs the tip of his nose across the shell of your ear. A shiver rolls through the column of your spine when he whispers, albeit loud enough to ensure his brother can hear every word, “This morning was fucking incredible, baby.”

Josh’s tight embrace causes the woodsy scent of his cologne to wrap around you like a cozy blanket, with its vanilla sweetness and rich almond notes making you crave just a little bit more. You catch the heavy roll of Jake’s eyes as his face drops from a smile into a scowl as he takes another sip from his mug.

Josh doesn’t seem to notice, or at least care, and plants a kiss on your cheek before detangling himself from you. He circles the island and walks behind Jake to choose a coffee mug for himself from the cabinet.

But something snags his attention before he can, causing his face to contort into confusion. He spins on his heels and leans in closer to inspect Jake’s neck, seeing that it’s littered with a spattering of Fuschia-colored marks that trail from his jawline to his collar-bones, across his bare chest, and down to his stomach. Your mouth falls open in shock, and you can’t tell if you’re more embarrassed that you’ve done that to him or amazed that you didn’t see it until now.

Josh grins through a taunting chuckle while looking directly at you, and smacks an open hand across Jake’s shoulder before giving it an aggressive shake that’s strong enough to make coffee spill from the mug. “Looks like you might have to button up your shirt for once, Jakey boy.”

Jake cuts a menacing glare over his shoulder, following it with a heavy roll of his eyes until they meet yours again. You wince in an attempt at a silent apology, one to which he only reciprocates with a wink before taking a large sip of his coffee.

It’s becoming obvious that there’s going to be a learning curve navigating this dynamic between the three of you. You wish you could say something, anything that would reflect an ounce of confidence that you do not possess right now. The weed in your system surely doesn’t help, but you can’t help imagining him going through his workday with an assortment of very noticeable hickies that you’ve personally created.

You see the workings of a smile on Jake’s mouth as the gears turn in his head before he mutters, “It seems like a fair price to know she had a good time with me last night.” He half turns to face Josh, leaning against the edge of the counter as he throws another verbal jab. “What is this now? The second morning she left your room unsatisfied?”

“Asshole.”

The weight of the unsaid hangs in the air, creating an uncomfortable awkwardness within you. Not knowing what to say or do, you divert your eyes away from them and spot your bag sitting on the barstool. While Josh is busy filling up his travel mug, you reach for it, blurting out, “Well, I guess I better get going.”

Josh sets the coffee pot back and offers over his shoulder, “Let me walk you out.”

You open your mouth to answer, but Jake’s voice cuts in before you can get out a word, “Oh, I think I might have a break between clients today.” He sets his mug down and grips the counter’s edge with both hands to lean forward. “I’ve been thinking about coming down to your shop to try one of your coffees—”

“Actually, I think we have to go through the books today,” Josh interrupts and walks into Jake’s view to shoot him a glare. There’s some sort of telepathic communication between the two of them, a conversation you’re not a part of. There’s an edge to the tone, a tightness in his voice that seems very unlike him. “He’ll be very busy. Such a shame though.”

With his coffee in hand, phone in the other with his key ring hanging off his pinky, and backpack slung loosely off his shoulder, he ushers you toward the door with the tip of his chin. After taking a few steps, Jake calls out your name, making you turn to the sound of his voice. “It was nice seeing you again.”

You feel compelled to stay, hook your bag on the back of the barstool, and slide across the seat. You imagine what the late morning would bring, the anecdotes he might share, the touches of your hand, the natural scent of his skin when he pulled you in close. Instead of experiencing any of that, he gives you a casual wave with a soft smile. You return it with your own, noting the hint of disappointment in his expression.

You walk to your car in a stressed hurry, not sure how you’re supposed to feel in a situation like this. Josh is quick to pick up on it as he bounds down the porch stairs after you. “Are you okay?”

You’re flustered, clicking the key fob in your hands at your car in the driveway. The past few minutes have shown you that this could all end as quickly as it began, and this type of conversation isn’t one you feel comfortable having with them yet. You pop your door open and toss your backpack into the passenger seat before asking in an irritated tone, “What was that about?”

He drops his bag, slides his phone in his pocket to rest a hand on the frame of the door, holding it open while his brows create that little crease in the skin between them.“What do you mean?”

Your eyes drop to your hands fidgeting with your keychain while you release a shaky sigh, “Josh…if there is going to be weird jealousy between you and him, I don’t know if this is the best thing.”

He recoils, instantly getting defensive, and huffs out to correct you, “It’s not jealousy.” But after the look you give him, he takes the moment to reflect for a second and admits, “I mean…okay, maybe it is a little bit.” His expression softens with worry painting over his features when he recognizes tension in your body and tries to shake it with laughter, “Jake and I can be a bit competitive sometimes.”

The last thing you want is to come between them as brothers, as coworkers, especially as roommates. Your voice is soft, just barely above a whisper.“I don’t want you two competing over me.”

He shakes his head as if to mentally kick himself for choosing the wrong words. He sighs, and anxiously scratches the back of his neck.“I know, you’re right. I’m sorry for that.”

The apology seems genuine, and a part of you feels bad for making an issue out of what could be nothing. You giggle through your nose as you tap his fingers wrapped around the top of your door. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry.”

He steps around the door to stand in front of you, tipping your chin up with his index finger, and tracing it along your jawline to brush the hair from your face. “I promise I won’t make it weird anymore, okay? I’ll even talk to him about it myself.”

“You sure?”

He looks at you through heavy lids, and smiles through a calming exhale, “Yeah.”

The spring morning air is crisp in your lungs, filling you with serenity as you look out at the dew drops coating every surface in sight. Standing out here with him by your car while couples send their significant other off on their work days feels more domestic than you realize. You push away that certain feeling that could ache in your heart knowing that nothing with him or Jake is guaranteed. Hell, you don’t even know if you’ll see them again after you leave here today. There’s an uncertainty to it all — the elephant in the room that no one dares to acknowledge. You fight that intrusive thought wanting to ruin the moment, and as much as you want to spend more time with him, you place a kiss on the corner of his mouth and mumble into the skin, “I should really get going.”

Just as you start to pull away, he guides you back into the kiss with his hand placed around the nape of your neck. It’s an act of reassurance. His thumb rubs along your cheek as his hand cradles your face, dissolving any stress of your responsibilities with the soft brush of his lips across yours.

He licks across your soft lips, and you quickly grant him access to your tongue without a second thought. You’re greeted with a hint of his toothpaste lingering with the sip of coffee he had just taken, a unique taste that only makes your heart flutter. Everything with him is new, the both of you breathlessly exploring each other’s little quirks despite feeling like you’ve known him for years. Weirdly enough, he’s the one to break away, leaving you a heaving mess in his cocky fashion. You just giggle and stumble back into the driver’s seat until you collect the motivation to finally turn the ignition.

He waits for you to roll the window down and closes your car door with a careful push until it latches in place. He lowers himself to where he’s at eye level, propping his arms on the open frame. “Hey, so do you have plans tonight?”

The way he’s looking at you melts away any doubts you’re feeling, and it’s the first time since your shower that you’re able to study the little details of his face. His damp curls are starting to dry in the morning air, springing back against his forehead in loose tendrils. He’s smiling at you while he waits for your answer, showing the apples of his cheeks that are still rosy from the hot water and revealing the tiny gap between his front teeth.

You curse at yourself internally that you’re already considering the idea of seeing him again later today, but the excitement shows in your voice anyway, “I don’t think so, why?”

The cheeky grin on his face gives away that he’s got something planned. He chuckles, and reaches into the car to gently tap your shoulder, “You should come by the shop tonight after your shift. I have a surprise for you.”

Although you have an idea what it could be, you raise a brow trying to hold on to your weak bluff. “A surprise?”

He dips his head and places a chaste kiss on your lips.“Yeah, but be sure to wear something loose and comfortable.”

Turning the corner on the street, the neon signs for “The Edge of Darkness Tattoo” come into view about a block away. The work day had dragged on, and the apartment felt drab and boring without the liveliness you’d been experiencing lately. You fought through the lack of motivation to catch up on chores, which consisted of feeding your cat, cleaning out the sink of dishes, and watering your plants. After you had gotten off work, you ran home for a quick shower and change of comfortable clothes. As you approach the shop, you can see some of the shop lights still on through the window and glass door. There’s the movement of someone inside, but it’s not who you’re expecting.

He’s a taller-than-average man of slender build, with long chestnut brown hair secured in a low, messy bun at the nape of his neck. He’s wearing a faded light-wash chambray shirt with the first few buttons opened to reveal the necklace hanging from his neck, dark, some tight-fitting jeans with a very stained pair of white Converse shoes.

He’s looking down, head-bobbing along and distracted as he wipes down the glass display cases on the front counter. You assume that he can’t hear you due to the earbuds he’s wearing. Taking a few steps closer, you notice that he has significantly more facial piercings than the twins combined. You study his downturned, clean-shaven face, spotting one through the sharp arch of his left brow, a bar through the bridge of his nose, a septum, a hoop through the right nostril, and a stud in the center of his bottom lip. His pulled-back hair also reveals the collection of hoops and studs he has in both ears. From what you can see, the exposed skin of his forearms and chest have multiple patchwork-style tattoos, giving the feeling that he offers the space as a human sketchbook rather than having a real plan for them.

After tossing the used paper towels into the trash, he begins the process of pulling up the plastic drawstrings of the bag. You decide it’s time to interrupt from how long you’ve stood here and wave your hand to get his attention.

He startles from your presence, jumping up and holding a hand over his heart. He laughs as he calms himself, and plucks one of the earbuds from his ear. “Oh, hello.”

You return the greeting, laughing along with him, “Hey.”

Once he regains his composure, he looks over at you, making it obvious that he’s checking you out with the way he starts with your eyes and drops his gaze down your body and back up. He instantly straightens his posture and adjusts his clothing. “I hate to say this, but we’re actually closed for the night.” He pauses and glances at the clock and then at the staircase before meeting your eyes again. “But if you already know what you want…I think I can make an exception for such a pretty girl tonight.”

If the genetic similarity didn’t serve as a clue, his new posture of leaning with folded arms over the glass case of jewelry did. You think back to last week, remembering Jake telling you about his younger brother. You’re flattered at his attempt, and can only giggle at the shameless flirt, “So you must Sam.”

Confusion paints across his angled features as he figures out how you know him by name, as if he’s flipping through the catalog of faces he’s met trying to see if yours is one he recognizes.

“Thank you for the offer, but I’m here to see Josh,” you explain with an added point of your finger to the second floor.

“Oh! Oh…” His expression drops the second he realizes why you’re really here, causing his posture to stiffen back into a standing position with a push of his hands against the glass. He dusts off the imaginary dust from his clothes as he shuffles around. He attempts to hide his cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment by picking back up on the task he was working on when you walked in. He casts his eyes to the counter as he clears his throat and throws a thumb in the direction of the staircase, “He’s upstairs.”

You feel bad from the sudden shift in his disposition and consider mumbling an apology, but decide against it for fear that would make things worse. “Okay! It was nice meeting you, Sam.”

“Good luck!” He calls halfway up the stairs, but also you hear him grumble under his breath, “Every. Fucking. Time.”

It’s strange, being here in this building under completely different pretenses than when you were here only a little over a week ago. It feels like a case of mental whiplash. The smells of different cleaners, burning incense, and hardwood, the framed art on the walls, the oddities in every nook n cranny — everything is the same as it was. The excitement only builds for what Josh has waiting for you, the anticipation carrying you up the remainder of the stairs.

It’s mostly quiet on the second floor aside from music playing on the same Bluetooth speaker as last time. You look around, and while remembering the layout, you note that Jake’s nowhere to be found, his station clean and tidy with his lights flipped off. Josh is on the opposite side of the room with his back to you, working away at his desk. He’s wearing the same outfit from this morning, a simple black t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of jeans, but with the addition of a backward-facing baseball cap on his head. He looks up and turns once he hears the creaky sounds of your footsteps approaching, and greets you with a friendly smile.

“Hey, baby,” He sings as pushes away from the edge of the desk with the heels of his palms, spinning in your direction and leaning back in the rolling office chair.

Normally the pet name for you being used this soon and often by a guy would have driven you nuts and made you run the other direction, but the way the word crackles from his throat and bounces off his lips makes you melt every time you hear it.

You send a smile back and say, “Hey.” There’s an attempt at being casual when you set your bag on the floor by his desk, but you can’t help but break into giggles anyway, “So I met your brother downstairs.”

He’s curious given how his ears seem to perk up, revealing his oral fixation by tapping the end of his Apple Pencil on his bottom lip as he spins in his chair, “Oh yeah? And how did that go?”

“It wasn’t the worst interaction I’ve ever had, but I think it could have gone substantially better.” You step between his open legs, standing over him as a surge of self-confidence flows through you. “I think he tried to flirt with me.”

He chuckles, biting at the end of the pencil, “Sammy boy? I mean…I can’t say I blame him.“ He then tosses the white pencil on his desk and sits up straight to stand on his feet, pulling you against him as he brings himself to your level. “Ya, know…with you being such a hottie and all.”

You involuntarily grasp his hips, wrapping your fingers around his waist to tug his body close to you. “A hottie, huh?”

He sucks in a sharp breath of pain and jumps away from you with his hand flying to his midsection, “Ah!” You step back as well, looking over his body to try to find what caused the reaction. Before you can ask, his eyes suddenly light up and he takes in another breath, but this time out of excitement. “That reminds me! ”

Your initial concern shifts to confusion, but you give him space as he lifts the front of his shirt and holds the cotton fabric in his hands. Your eyes find the thing he wants to show you, but your first instinct is to bring your hand to your mouth in shock as you stare at the golden barbell pierced through his navel. You ask in a hushed whisper through your fingers, “Is that real?”

“Yeah!” There’s a giddiness in his voice as he looks down at himself. He flexes his muscles and stretches out the tan skin of his stomach to show off the new addition to his body modifications. The area around the piercing is flushed pink and a tad swollen, giving away that it was done only hours ago.

It’s like a precious jewel displayed amongst the bed of tattooed flowers on his stomach. Mesmerized by the sight, you huff an incredulous laugh, “Did you really get an impulsive belly button piercing today?”

He looks up and meets your eyes with that cheesy grin of his. “Yeah, why not?”

At first, you would think to question it, but based on what you’ve seen from him so far, it can’t seem more like him to do something like this. It doesn’t take long for you to succumb to the temptation to touch him and reach out to brush your fingertips across his upper stomach so you can hold his shirt. “Is this my surprise?”

His eyes follow the path of your other hand as you trace across his abdomen with a barely-there pressure. “No, but do you like it?”

He’s so warm and soft to the touch that you nearly forget to answer until you breathe your admittance, “Yeah.” He gives away that he’s ticklish when he twitches at the contact as you get a little closer to the piercing sight. “Does it hurt?”

All you want to do is feel the new barbell, run over the cool metal with a pass of your fingers, or even kiss down his stomach and lick across the golden bar. You drop his shirt carefully so it doesn’t snag or rub against the jewelry. “A little but it’s fresh.”

You giggle at the mental image that pops into your head, “Did Sam do it?”

“Fuck no!” He laughs through the curse, dragging out the word through the throaty sound. “I was running some errands this afternoon and stopped by my friend’s shop today. We were talking and found out that her new piercer just got some new shit in today.” He breaks the contact from you and starts to shuffle the items on his desk, taking you through the story with the waving of his hands as he does so. “One thing led to another and somehow I ended up on a table with a fourteen gauge needle through my belly button.”

You don’t mean for it to happen, but a feeling of jealousy shoots through you as he tells you about his day. “A friend?”

His head whips around to study your reaction and new body language after hearing the change in the tone of your voice. You’re embarrassed as you shouldn’t feel this strong of emotion yet. You barely even know him right now, and even if you did know him longer than a week, it would be hypocritical of you given the fact you called him out for the same thing earlier in the day.

A friend. That’s what you’ll choose to believe.

But he already senses it despite your efforts to hide and bury the feeling. He wraps his hand around your wrist, yanking you free from the stiff position to bring you in closer. The proximity muddles your brain, especially when you can still smell the notes of vanilla coming from him when he coos against your flushed cheek, “Is my girl jealous?”

You push him away with a weak shove against his chest despite his firm hold around your waist, and scoff with a heavy roll of your eyes, “Your girl? Or one of your girls?”

You let your attitude and insecurity slip more than you intended and now all you can do is wait and see if it ruins the moment. Thankfully it doesn’t, because he chooses to play along, licking his bottom lip before biting it through a taunting pull. He lowers his voice so it fans across your lips with how close he is, “You better be careful talking to me like that, baby girl. Might have to do something about it.”

There’s something about the teasing rasp of those words that feels more like Jake to you, a shared element to their personalities that Josh rarely explores — at least that you know of. It flusters you, rendering you speechless as you scan over your favorite parts of his face. One detail, in particular, catches your eye — the titanium hoop on the left side of his nose is now gold.

You then check his ears and see that the jewelry on his lobes and industrial bar through his cartilage is all gold as well. “Did you change your other ones?”

He gives you a playful smile as he focuses on your lips, sticking his tongue out enough to run the gold ball of his piercing across the top row of his perfect teeth. “I did.”

You rub one of the hoops in his ear between your thumb and fingers and notice that they don’t have that brassy yellow appearance that some cheaper alternatives can have. “Are those real gold?”

He leans into the touch, humming his answer as he watches your eyes, “Mmhmm…twenty-four karat.”

Your heart almost stops from doing the mental math of the cost for every new piece. “How much money did you spend on all these?”

He chuckles at your scolding before clicking his tongue, “Don't you know it’s in poor taste to talk about money? Besides, I think it was about time to treat myself anyway.”

His indirect answer tells you that the shopping spree he had taken this afternoon wasn’t a cheap one, but you decide not to press the topic further. You admire them instead, wrapping your arms around his neck to guide him into a kiss as you mumble against his lips. “How indulgent….they do look good. I think gold suits you.”

He soaks up the praise, kissing you before letting out a pleased sigh of relief, “Thank you, baby. Do you wanna see your real surprise?”

You nod, causing him to break away and flip through the contents of his desk until he pulls out a stencil. He hands it to you to hold and takes a step back to give you space to look at it for as long as you need.

The focal point in a sun with spiraling rays as the center, a few inches above it is a rotated crescent moon that’s turned on its side. Below the sun is a curved, half-circle, mandala-like pattern of thin lines and small flowers made of different-sized dots. Unlike most of the work you’ve seen from him in his portfolio, it’s a minimalist design with delicate and feminine linework. “This is for me?”

“It is.” He clears his throat and shifts awkwardly on his feet to stand closer as if he is waiting for your approval. “I was thinking the placement could be here.” He shows you the spot he has in mind by gesturing to the center of his chest in a generally circular motion with his index finger.

There’s no doubt it’s beautiful, and you’d be more than grateful to get a tattoo from him after finding out he’s booked for at least two months, but your fear of commitment takes over. “Oh…I don’t know if I’m ready for a chest tattoo tonight.”

He gives a reassuring laugh with a gentle tap to your upper arm, “You don’t have to. I just drew this up for you and thought you might like it.” His tone softens when he adds, “ Do you still want to place the stencil to see how it looks before we get out of here?”

You blush at the thought of him taking the time to do something like this for you. So letting him see his work on you, even if it’s only temporary, is the least you could do. You bite a smile forming on your lips while handing over the stencil. “Sure.”

He pumps his fist in celebration, cheering in excitement, “Fuck yeah! Let me go get everything ready.” He walks off to his station, sits in his rolling chair, and starts collecting all the supplies he needs out of this cart that resembles a metal toolbox.

You follow him to the table and sit on the edge to watch him gather everything and put on a pair of black gloves. As you find a decent spot on the stiff surface, you ask while his back is turned to you, “Do you need me to take off my shirt?”

You shrug off your flannel before you even finish the question, thankful that you wore a cropped t-shirt today. You pull it over your head along with your bralette, leaving yourself completely topless. He hums away in thought and begins to spin around in his chair. “Uhhh…it would probably be easier, but we can make it work with—” His words are cut off the second he sees you sitting half-naked on the table. “—Oh.”

With a clear bottle of green soap in one hand and a stack of paper towels in the other, he sits frozen in place a few feet away from you. Your face flushes with heat when his eyes lock onto your chest for several seconds until they eventually find their way back up to your face, and then back down again. You catch the harsh swallow and the not-so-subtle jaw clench as he regains whatever sliver of his professionalism he still has. With a slight tilt of his head and a raise of his brows, he finally says, “But I guess you’re already good to go.”

“Sorry,” you laugh nervously as he wheels in close by walking his feet along the floor until he is right at your knees. You feel silly for the new wave anxiety since he’s seen your bare chest plenty within the short time frame you’ve known him, but this right now, in this setting feels completely different.

“Never, ever apologize for that, baby,” he assures you with a calming lilt in his voice as he looks up at you. Your brain goes fuzzy with the image of him below you, and he knows it too. It’s the boyish charm hanging onto his handsome features — the little curls at the nape of his neck that are starting to grow out past his ears, the dimple pressed into his chin now that his facial hair is gone, and the large, doe eyes that are always melting away your resolve.

He begins the process once he has the permission of your smile, his focus set solely on your naked chest that’s at his eye level. The green soap solution from the squeeze bottle in his hand is cold when it hits your exposed skin, causing a sea of goosebumps to rise across your body. He rushes with a paper towel to wipe it clean before the liquid soap has the chance to run down your stomach and onto the rest of your clothes.

You tease, “Is the cleaner and gloves necessary just for a stencil?” The question is to distract him from the fact that you’re already on the edge and the way you’re staring at how his hands are vacuum sealed in the thin, black rubber.

He giggles as he continues to wipe you down, “I just wanna give you the full experience.”

He’s more than tender in the movements, making sure not to be too rough with the paper towel on your sensitive skin. Every touch of his nitrile-covered fingers brushing against your breasts, every faint sound he makes while he’s deep in concentration, each point of contact of his body to yours feels heightened beyond belief.

Your breathing becomes shallow as your nipples harden now that they are exposed to the cool air of the shop. There’s no doubt he notices, but he goes on to the next step of applying the stencil solution, making sure to cover the area between your breasts in small circular motions. He then carefully lays the stencil against your sternum once it's centered where he likes, smoothing out the wrinkles of the wet paper to your skin.

“Moment of truth,” he sighs, taking the top edge of the stencil between his fingers and slowly peeling it away, leaving its dark purple outline behind. You try your best to look at it upside down while he tosses the transfer paper in the trash, making him ask, “Wanna take a look?”

You nod as he stands to his feet to help you off the table, and escorts you over to the mirror — a spot that already holds memories for you, causing the image of Jake kneeling before you when he applied the stencil to flash in your mind. As strange as it feels to walk over with no shirt on, he’s right behind you, guiding you with a comforting hand to the small of your back until you’re standing before the mirror.

“Oh wow…” You breathe in awe once you see yourself, bringing your hands to cover your breasts as you take another step forward. You take the chance to study it in silence while Josh stands behind you. The thinner lines and simpler, feminine details you noticed on the drawing are only amplified on your body, as if the design was made for you. You can’t explain the feeling or even the reason behind the thought, but the artwork radiates his aura somehow.

He hooks his chin over your shoulder and secures a hold around your waist, pressing his gloved fingers into the flesh. Your eyes meet in the glass before they drop down to watch his hands roam across your stomach and chest. He takes over and soothes your moment of insecurity by replacing your hands with his. With each breast held in his palms, he gives them both a firm squeeze just as he nips the vulnerable skin of your neck, draping you in the heat of his breath. “What do you think?”

Surely, you’d be a fool to pass this up with him, and he can even see your mind working overtime as you contemplate the decision over and over. You know you’re already sold on the idea, you just have to come to terms with accepting it. “I love it.”

He traces over the design, with a touch so faint it'd be nearly undetectable if you weren’t watching, as he speaks, “I drew it just for you, ya know.” Once you meet his gaze in the reflection, he continues, “I think it’s starting to affect me…” As his voice trails off, he reaches down to lift the right side of your cotton shorts to reveal your healing tattoo, and clicks his tongue in disapproval, “Seeing only Jake’s work on your body and not mine.” You watch him in the mirror while he brings his lips to the shell of your ear and whispers, “Do you wanna change that, baby?”

Your heart is racing from the thought, but you lean into him, groaning at the feeling of his soft lips grazing your jaw as that familiar sensation stirs between your legs, “Let’s do it.”

He presses his cheek into yours and stares at your reflection. “Are you sure? It’s okay if you want to think about it—“

You shake your head and turn to face him. “No. I wanna do it right now.”

He giggles with his hands raised in the air, “Whoa, baby. Watch what you say to me. You’re gonna get me all worked up.”

Just as you go to swat his arm for the dumb joke, a loud voice booms through the stairwell, causing you to jump. “I’m heading out!”

Josh shouts back over your shoulder, “Alright, Sam! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

You both hear a door opening and shutting, letting you know that Sam had left. Once your heart rate calms down, you laugh, “I totally forgot that he was here.”

“Most do,” he chuckles as he breaks away from you. He walks over to grab your flannel and hands it to you before gesturing to the couch. “Go ahead and get comfortable while I get everything ready real quick. It shouldn’t take me long.”

You sit on the leather sofa while Josh begins the process of setting his station up for your tattoo. He starts with a fresh set of gloves, then goes on to spray down the table with a special cleaner. After it’s wiped down, he covers it with a paper cloth and secures it with clear plastic wrap. He then proceeds to clean his side table tray, covering it in the same wrap as well. It’s becoming evident that you barely paid attention to Jake during your tattoo, because seeing all the steps laid out before you is new.

Seeing Josh so serious and professional is also new for you, making you realize that this is in fact, his profession. He assembles his machine, feeding the needle and adjusting it to his liking. You realize it's a wireless handheld one, a completely different type than the one Jake had used on you. He’s meticulous and thorough while maintaining a sense of efficiency, making sure everything is exactly how he prefers it. It’s a window into this side of him you otherwise might not see, and you know he can feel your eyes on him with the little side glances he gives back to you.

The lack of conversation between you isn’t awkward, or necessarily uncomfortable, but rather thick with tension. Once he’s done stacking his paper towels and filling the tiny caps with ink, he calls your name along with a gesture of his hand.

Before you make the short journey over to his corner, you shrug off your flannel and toss it onto the back of the couch. He leans back in the chair, giving you plenty of room to ease onto the table. As you shimmy backward, the cling wrap and paper stick to your skin while you find a somewhat comfortable position flat on your back. Thankfully, Josh has distracted you up until now, but the nerves are returning full force with the reality of a chest tattoo settling in.

You’re nervous, and it shows because you can’t seem to find a good place to put your hands, so you end up picking at the top layer of cling film by your side. Your eyes wander around the room, but staring at the ceiling doesn’t seem to calm you either. They eventually close until Josh turns on the machine and scoots into position, filling the room with its mechanical buzzing sound. The noise makes you jump and look down at him getting ready. “How bad will this one hurt?”

“Well…” A grimace shows on his face as he sucks in a long breath through his teeth with a nervous tap of his leg, as if he’s trying to choose his next words carefully, “I’m not gonna sugarcoat it and lie to you. It’s painful as fuck.” But once he sees the fear in your eyes, he jumps in to add with a reassuring squeeze of your leg, “I’ll take good care of you, baby. I promise. Plus this one won’t take me long, about thirty minutes tops.”

“Thirty minutes, huh?” The worry hangs in your words, but you wiggle your shoulders against the table and shift your body around for one last adjustment to get as comfortable as you can.

Once you’re ready, he leans to his side to dip the needle into the tiny cap of black ink and reaches both arms over you. The warm contact of his bare forearms against your naked chest and the familiar scent of his cologne calm you. “Do you doubt me?”

You chuckle, “I’m gonna try not to.”

“Atta girl,” he croons with a peaceful lull in his voice, gifting you with a large enough smile that brings out the dimple on his left cheek. With his left hand, he stretches the skin on your sternum and hovers the needle about an inch over you. After a deep inhale, he asks, “Are you ready?”

You do the same deep breath, preparing your body for the pain you’re about to endure. “As I’ll ever be.”

The small needle makes contact with the skin in the center of your sternum, making you grunt out a harsh curse from the pain. The first line is undoubtedly brutal, sending a surge of panic through you that you’ve made the wrong choice. He pulls the machine away and taps your arm with the other hand. “You gotta breathe, sweetheart. Remember the first few minutes are the worst, okay?”

You nod, releasing that shaky breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding in since he started. Once he feels confident enough to continue, he brings the needle back to your chest for another line. You do your best to concentrate, placing the pain somewhere else in the back of your mind while wrapping a hand around his arm to ground yourself. Your hold on his forearm is loose and gentle so he can move freely as he works, but the feeling of his skin alone is calming enough to distract you. As he finds a steady pace and gets comfortable, you start to notice that the pressure of his hand is lighter than Jake’s.

After a few minutes with just the humming sound of the machine between you, he sparks a new conversation. “So how long have you been working at the coffee shop?”

You glance at him, seeing that his focus is still on your chest. “A few months, why?”

He shrugs between his lines and breaks away to dip his needle, groaning as he stretches. “Just curious. I go there all the time and I was wondering why I hadn’t seen you there before.”

You mutter with a hint of disdain in your voice, “Maybe I have a forgettable face.”

The puzzled look he gives you has a bit of sadness to it when he pouts his bottom lip. “Ah stop it. I think you were just trying to hide it from me all this time.” In reality, you’ve questioned why you haven’t met until now yourself, and have concluded that you must've been missing each other all this time. “Do you live around here?”

Maybe it’s the discomfort you’re in, but the sudden change in a topic throws you, making you scoff, “Are we really doing small talk right now?”

He responds to the question defensively, huffing out a dry laugh as he straightens in his chair with his hands raised in the air. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I not allowed to get to know you?” It’s obvious that he’s messing with you with the sarcasm in his tone, but that doesn’t stop the guilt from settling in. He then adds with an air of nonchalance, “We can go back to just fucking if that’s what you want.”

You shake your head, “No, that’s not what I meant.” He lets the silence linger for a few seconds, causing you to fumble your confidence and blurt out your answer, “Yeah, I do live around here. I have an apartment in town…I even have a roommate.”

His eyes are locked onto his work, but a small smile breaks through while he chuckles to himself, “She even has a roommate.”

It would be frustrating how flustered he makes you if it wasn’t for how much you loved it. He’d been staying mostly professional with you during this, but there’s a feeling of vulnerability laying here beneath him with your bare tits out on full display. Your intrusive thoughts start to wander, leading you to ask the question, “So how many tattoos like this do you do daily? Since this is your job and everything.”

He finishes the line he’s on and looks up, showing his dark brows pulling together in confusion. “Why?”

The same jealousy you were experiencing a few minutes ago is showing its face again, but you shrug your shoulders to hide it behind casual indifference. “Just curious.”

The confusion transforms before you once he picks up on what you’re asking and takes the chance to participate in the game you’re in. “Are you trying to ask me if I tattoo half-naked women like this?”

His bluntness causes your mouth to fall open, but he only responds to your stunned silence with a playful wink. If you were to know any better you would drop it, but your curiosity is getting the better of you so you ask in a meek voice, “Do you?”

You can sense the apprehension making him pause as he raises a brow. “Do you want me to answer that?”

Despite his warning, you prod for the answer anyway. “Josh, you can tell me.”

He’s hiding a knowing smirk, and pushes out a deep exhale, “It depends. I do tattoos like this one all the time.” He stops to laugh and motions to you, making you cover the blush rising on your cheeks. “Not all of them just strip down completely like this. But I won’t lie and say I haven’t seen a fair share of titties in my career.”

“Must be quite the perk.”

He peeks up through his lashes, shooting you an indiscernible look before he defends himself. “Let me make it clear that I didn’t get into this profession to see naked women. But I will say it’s pretty cool when a client is comfortable enough with me in that way.”

He finishes the explanation with another wink, earning him a light-hearted eye roll from you. “I’m sure being cute helps.”

The compliment fills the apples of his cheeks when he smiles while his eyes search for anything else but yours.“You think I’m cute, huh? Is that why you ripped your shirt off as soon as you could?”

“Shut up.”

He cackles, cutting through the hum of the machine, and clamps his eyes shut as if he’s reliving a funny memory. “If you want to hear some crazy stories though, you should hear the one when Jake had to tattoo this girl’s… asshole.”

You can’t help but snort because there’s no way you heard him right. “Bullshit. You’re making that up.”

He wheezes with a giggle while bouncing his knees up and down in excitement. “God, he would fucking kill me. We might have to save that one for a better day.”

You drop your head back down to the table, grumbling under your breath, “You’re such a tease.”

He hears you and nudges you with his elbow. “Oh, come on. You know it would be so much better coming from him. And honestly, asking who sees more interesting stuff around here would be a better question for Sam.”

“Really?”

He shakes his head in amusement, huffing a laugh through his nose, “I’m pretty sure he has at least one nipple-piercing client a day.”

A new curiosity enters your brain. “Nipple piercings, huh?”

He gives you a quick side glance before admiring you with his undivided attention on your breasts. “Yeah... and they would look fucking amazing on you by the way…if you were ever considering it.”

You aren’t about to divulge that to him, but you make sure to tuck the thought away for another day. “Noted.”

He goes back to working on the tattoo, bringing the needle through your skin through clean, steady pulls before wiping the excess ink from your chest. His motions are fluid, yet cautious as he gauges your pain level and body’s reactions.

Despite the dull scratching pain vibrating through you, he coaxes you in, grasping your attention even though you’re making a conscious effort not to stare at him. You dare to feel across his arm, exploring the lean muscles beneath the tattooed skin as they flex against your fingers. You rub along his shoulder until meeting the edge of his t-shirt collar, watching the tiny changes in his face that are now inches away, so close you can feel his breath fanning across you.

While the pain is bearable at best, the desire to have him is becoming more tortuous minute by minute. The thoughts of what he could do start infiltrating your innocent ones, and the aching feeling between your thighs starts to rapidly build. Temptation takes over, and soon your eyes fixate on how the tip of his tongue peeks over his lips while he’s concentrating — just teasing you with its existence. It’s all about what he hasn’t done yet, what he hasn’t touched on your body tonight. Your nipples are practically screaming for anything, even an accidental brush of the back of his hand might set you over the edge.

You know he’s nearing the end of the tattoo from the low position of his needle beneath your breasts. You decide to push past the barrier of his collar and slide your fingers up the length of his neck and plunge into the curls hidden beneath the bill of his hat. Your nails drag across his scalp, making his eyes flutter at the touch.

He purses his lips into a tiny “o” and blows a cool stream of air over your nipples to watch them harden within seconds. A muffled moan escapes as a shiver rolls through you so you’re squirming on top of the table in desperation. He giggles with a satisfied sigh, “Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

You choose to respond to his teasing by tugging the roots of his hair that’s been woven between your fingers. He groans through a violent shudder of his own and retaliates with a single tantalizing lick of his tongue across one of your nipples.

He pulls away and goes back to his work as if nothing happened, leaving you in the anguish that he’s created. Now that it’s wet and tingling from the cool air hitting it, you can’t help but feel like you’re driven into madness. “That was evil.”

He doesn’t respond to your words but goes back to work on your tattoo. You choose to stare up at the ceiling, imagining the grin he has knowing that he has you acting like this. It doesn’t help that you can feel the heat of the breaths he takes as it taunts you with every exhale. With every break of the needle from your flesh, he brushes his parted lips across the sensitive bundles, nipping at the supple flesh of your breasts.

It’s a cruel game of what he can get away with, what can drive you to the absolute breaking point. There’s no hiding how much he affects you, especially by the way the pressure of his forearm increases to keep you in place against the table.

Before you know it, it’s all over. He was right, the tattoo couldn’t have taken longer than half an hour. He groans through a long stretch, turning the machine off and setting it down on the table. “Alright. I think you’re all finished. Let’s get you cleaned up and wrapped.”

Sure, there’s relief from the pain, but you also feel a sense of disappointment knowing that this experience has come to an end. You watch as he starts to clean up his station and prepare for the process of bandaging you up,

He washes your chest, giving it a final wipe before applying the same clear film Jake had used on your leg. He’s meticulous throughout the entire process from peeling the backing to pressing it against your skin. Once your tattoo is safely sealed behind the Saniderm, he pulls off his gloves and goes to stand. You reach out and stop him before he can. “Wait…” And before you allow yourself to become embarrassed by the idea, you throw the request out into the air, “Can you put new ones on?”

“Gloves?” His tone is lighthearted, probably from thinking he misheard you.

While he scoots backward on the chair to toss the used gloves into the trash bin, you give him a pathetically horny, pleading look with a bite of your bottom lip. “Mmhmm.”

It takes a moment for your question to fully click inside his head, but once it does, that cheeky smirk he wears instantly reappears. He maintains eye contact with you, plucks a fresh pair from the box, and slowly puts them on as he walks himself back over to you. He traces his fingers over your body, following the curves of your tummy and over the contour of your breasts.

He dips his head down to your chest and licks your left nipple, swirling the tip of his tongue around in languid, slow movements before sucking it into the warmth of his mouth. Even though you should expect it by now, the smooth metal of his piercing rolling over with every pass of his tongue shocks you. As good as it feels, and as much as you want him to continue, he only does it for a few seconds before latching onto the right. With his soft, full lips sealed around one, his gloved thumb rolls across the other, sending a wave of pleasure directly to your clit as it throbs away against the material of your clothes. You writhe under his hold, gripping at his arms while your back arches away from the table.

“Oh, fuck!” You moan, pulling a fistful of t-shirt from his back in a pitiful attempt to ground yourself. He’s ditching the idea of holding back, licking and sucking at your nipple in a frenzied hunger, even grazing his teeth across you between his heavy, panting breaths. You hold his head between your hands, rubbing across the shell of his ear as you praise, “Oh my god, that feels so good.”

You end up knocking off his hat onto the floor when your fingers dive into his hair, causing him to release from you. He doesn’t seem to care as his lust-glazed eyes find yours before he drops them down the features of your face. His lips are swollen and flushed pink, glistening with a glaze of his spit.

As you stare at each other, his fingers leave your nipple to travel down the center of your stomach until they meet your shorts. He hooks them around the waistband, hinting for you to lift your ass from the table so he can yank the remainder of clothing from your body.

You’re completely exposed, but without a second of hesitation, you allow your legs to fall to the sides so you’re spread open for him. He watches as you do this, sitting up just enough to look down at your naked body.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day.” He tickles across the sensual area between your hips before dipping his covered finger between your folds, gliding effortlessly across your soaked clit. The latex feel causes it to slide down your core without friction to your entrance. He holds his breath as he watches himself touch you, seeing that the black glove is coated in your arousal. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“Don’t stop,” you whine while clawing at his arm, catching the high off the slippery feeling of his fingers. It’s him, the same pattern of movements, but not with the slick surface of those fingers sliding over your cunt.

“You like that, baby?” His voice is sultry and thick in his throat. The feeling is unique with the thin rubber acting as a barrier between his fingertips and your swollen clit. It’s the ultimate tease, giving you just enough while keeping you wanting just a little more.

You can’t wait for another second, pulling him by the hair to your chest in a silent demand for his mouth to return to your body. He obeys your need, smiling against your skin as he showers you with open-mouth kisses until his lips find your nipple once again. Your mind is so clouded you can’t think straight — already so close with Josh overriding every one of your senses. The sweet, addicting combination of his velvet tongue flicking across it with his middle finger drawing tiny circles over your clit almost have you bucking right off the table altogether.

He slowly slides a finger into you, groaning loudly as soon as you tighten around him — the only feeling he can get from you aside from your warmth. As he curls it inside you, it finally dawns on you that this is truly about you, as the gloves he’s wearing remove the feeling of how soft, how wet, and ready you are for him. He doesn’t complain but rather commits without question as your song of pitched moans breaks through the air.

“Are you close?” He mumbles around your nipple while rocking his hand against your pussy, stretching you out when he pushes the second finger into you.

“Josh, please,” You whimper, cradling his head in your arms. He suckles at your breast as he holds it in his other hand, circling your nipple in similar patterns to what his thumb is doing to your clit.

You’re there. You’re right fucking there, watching the waves of your orgasm ripple from your mind and throughout your body, down to your core. No matter how far you lift your hips off the table chasing it, he keeps you in that purgatory, prolonging the inevitable for as long as he possibly can.

He releases the suction of his lips from your nipple, and growls into tender skin covering your collarbones, “Should have told me about the gloves earlier, baby.” He bites and kisses his way up your neck, panting in your ear with a familiar cockiness, “Jake is gonna lose it when he finds out he wasn’t first.”

He kisses you sloppily, giving away the fact he wants this just as much as you do. As he licks desperately into your mouth, his slick fingers scissor across your clit before diving back into your pussy.

“Josh! Please, please, please!” you cry out in near agony, hoping that he’ll finally give you what you crave.

He purrs against your cheek, pressing the bridge of his nose into your skin while he rolls the pads of his fingers against that hidden spot, “That’s it. Show me who’s your favorite and cum around my fingers, baby. Let me feel that tight little pussy of yours.”

His tongue spoiling your chest with those sinful words soaking into your conscience are the last push you need. You’re pulled into the depths of your release, like he’s taken your existence and dragged you into a hot bath.

It’s vastly different from Jake. Where his brother throws you head-on into the wall of your orgasm, Josh guides you along at his own pace with a certain tenderness. The result is a blooming feeling of warmth, radiating from the center of your body to the tips of your fingers. It’s a drug to your brain like every one of your synapses was dipped in a pool of honey.

Seconds after you come, Josh rushes to his feet and while he’s preoccupied ripping the gloves from his hands, you frantically undo the button of his jeans. He’s just as impatient, taking over by ripping his jeans open and maneuvering the both of you into the new position. He grabs your hips with both hands and drags you to the edge of the table with hidden strength. You prop yourself on your elbows and watch as he dives into the pant leg of his jeans and pulls his cock free.

He’s standing between your open legs, seeing his tattoo on your body and practically whining as he holds himself in his hand, “I’m so fucking hard right now.”

There isn’t much you can focus on in your fucked-out state, but you can see his eyes clamp shut and brows furrow as if he was experiencing pain. It’s far from that. He’s blinded by his primal need, barely taking enough time to line himself up before plunging into you to the hilt. The sound that pushes out of your lungs is animalistic, and if you were in a clearer frame of mind, you might be thankful that there isn’t anyone else here in the building.

He breathes out a string of incoherent curses, stopping long enough to feel you adjust and clench around him now that he’s fully inside you. It’s only been a day since you last felt him like this, but the desire to have him buried deep is something that’s quickly becoming insatiable. You’re both somewhere else in your mind, yet connected through this. His gaze seems drunk in the way it bounces around, perhaps off of the lust he has for you as his eyes float down the length of your body. He holds the front of his t-shirt up as he snaps his hips into you, creating a lewd slapping sound every time his body connects with the back of your legs.

This is the hardest he’s fucked you yet.

Between each unrelenting slam of his cock against your cervix, you wonder if this is all to prove a point from what he saw the night before with you and Jake. If you had any air in your lungs to form a word beyond a broken curse, you might even ask.

He wedges the bottom of his shirt in his teeth to hold the back of your leg up with a hand-hooked behind your knee with the other placed on your mound between your legs. He knows you’re overstimulated with how swollen it is, but rolls the pad of his thumb over your clit anyway.

If it isn’t to get you to climax again, it’s to feel you shake and flutter around his cock. You don’t resist him, because the truth is, you crave it. You watch his eyes roll behind his lids as his head falls back, giving you the image of his extended neck. It’s coated in a sheen of sweat from the exertion, reflecting in the light as he swallowed thickly. Just the sounds he makes alone reveal that he’s on the verge of falling apart within minutes.

He grunts through the wad of fabric between his clenched teeth, “Let it out. Let me hear you.”

You’d obey the demand if you aren’t already screaming and gripping the table to brace yourself with every forceful snap of his hips. You’re going to be sore from this, but you don’t care. There’s nothing that would make you trade the feeling of his cock stretching your pussy out with each powerful thrust of his hips or being able to watch the muscles of his abdomen flex with each one.

His t-shirt falls from his mouth, wrinkled and wet from the imprints of his teeth. “Give it to me,” he groans as both of his hands leave their spot to wrap around your waist — those once gentle fingers digging into the soft flesh.

That sweet, charming face twists into a violent grimace as the rhythm of his thrusts begins to falter. You cry out his name and lock your legs around his waist, driving him that much deeper. He instantly loses all control, and after a final, shaky pump, he stalls deep inside of you, nestled between your weakened legs. A ragged whine leaves his chest as he shudders through his release, the heat of his cum filling you with every heavy pulse of his cock.

As you lay flat along the table, lifeless despite the heaving of your chest, he starts to soften inside you as he collects his breath. After taking a minute to come down, he withdraws himself and picks up your shorts and underwear from the floor.

He braces himself on your knees with your clothing in hand and pushes out a hoarse laugh, “I think I just broke every rule that exists.”

TAGLIST:

@gretavanbitches @shesawomaninadream @dannyandthekiszkas @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @asparrowofthedawn @ageofnations @welightthefire @garbagevanfleet @lvnterninthenight @pennylanefics @writingcold @alexxavicry @gvfficrecs @jakeyboiiiiiii @doodle417 @richjaaasss @pr41sethemoon @mamalikes-gvf @gretavanflowerpowerrr @joshskittytickler21 @jakekiszkasbabymama @fallonfatality @maddie-van-fleet @sarakay-gvf @josiee-gvf @milkgemini @sammiejane22 @gretavanbear @capturethechaos @welllauragvf @averagemisfit03 @myownparadise96 @givemeyourtots2 @gretavangroove @sammyfuckingkiszka @why-ami-on-here @autopsy-im-ill @objectsinspvce @feilores @josh-iamyour-mama @spark-my-nature @joshkiszkasbigtoe

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h-harleybaby · 10 months

Note

I loveloveLOVE ur work ... can we get some hcz for Eric Cartman in a relationship with a masochiztic reader ? ,:3c

All y’all on the same wavelength fr

Anyways, no worries hun I’m perfectly fine with it! And I get it, sometimes you gotta use a translator <333

HAS NSFW CONTENT

Sadist!Eric Cartman x Masochist!reader

• Obviously Cartman would thrive on the fact you’re a masochist, his sadistic side is so drawn to that. He finds it so hot how much of a reaction he can get out of you

• Def has recordings of you begging for him to be rough or to slap you and gets off on it when you can’t be there physically. Not to mention videos and audios of him spanking you

• If he’s not there I wouldn’t be surprised if he FaceTimed you and made you spank yourself + touch yourself. If your ass ain’t red, you clearly didn’t do it right

• He’d probably mock you the whole time saying how your hands probably don’t feel as good as his, whatever toy he’s making you use doesn’t feel as good as this tongue, etc

• Would not be surprised if he mocked you while you were riding some sort of dildo or toy until you’re crying and he’s licking your tears as some kinda foreplay

• Fr makes you completely dependent on him for your pleasure. No one makes you feel as good as he does ig, he knows your body more than you do

• He’s def someone who uses his size to his benefit, pinning you down so you can’t pull away or push away from anything he’s doing because he KNOWS you love it

• Ofc sometimes he has to switch it up tho, he’s by no means boring. And tying you up is one of his favourites to do, I feel like he would use coconut rope or something that like, at least slightly digs into your skin

• He would sooooo love when you scratch up his back, the little masochist in him is pleased. Ngl he would probably walk around shirtless so people could ask him about it and so he could tell them about how good you felt last night

• OVERSTIM!!! He loves to overstim you to the point where you’re begging him to stop or until literally all you can do is babble about how it feels too good and cry

• HE LICKS THOSE DAMN TEARS WITH PRIDE!! And boy, do they taste good to him your tears fr his favorite drink 💀

• He prefers getting oral rather than giving, but if he’s giving he’s a big fan of you sitting on his face and not letting you off. Like no, he wants you sobbing just because of his tongue and if you’re not then he’s not done

• He knows you soooo well and knows exactly how to make you cum super easily, but loves to edge you. Especially to the point where you’re trying to grind yourself on his face and he has to hold your hips to stop you

• If you don’t get the hint then he’s gonna slap your clit until you do and omg it hurts but it feels so good like I CAN’T

• Def fucks your face to the point where he actually can’t tell if you’re breathing properly or not

• I could totally see him having his hand on your throat and squeezing a little as he face fucks you because he likes how it feels

• He would soooo love taking pictures of you choking on his cum while he’s got his dick down your throat. Expect that to be his lock screen!!

• Arm lock is a must‼️‼️‼️ like he has you propped up, ass up, and chest flat on the bed with your arms behind your back LIKE YES PLEASE

• I shit you not, he has those chubby hands so they’re literally huge and he can hold your wrists together with one hand 🤭🤭

• Them hands inside you tho got me going WILD!! He knows what the hell he’s doing and he’s super skilled with his hands. Honestly, he probably fingers you pretty roughly but like not enough to exactly hurt HURT you ya know??? Does that make sense?

#h harleybaby needs help #harley won’t shut her mouth #harley’s anons <33 #mom come get harley she’s rambling #harley’s favs #south park x reader #south park x reader headcanons #south park x y/n #eric cartman x reader #cartman x reader #eric cartman x you #eric cartman smut #eric cartman x y/n #eric cartman headcanons #Eric Cartman birthday special

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sunnibits · 2 years

Text

a very simple concept that has just been unraveling me lately: izzy showing affection

ok ok I know that sounds obvious but HEAR ME OUT. I feel like a lot of soft izzy content centers around ‘izzy gets shown affection for the first time’ and that’s amazing, y’all know I live for it,, BUT!! can we please talk more about izzy reaching out to show physical affection on his own?? 🥺

like, it would take a lot of time and a lot of development, but I’m just thinking about all the same little acts of affection that ruin me when they’re directed towards izzy, and reversing them so that he’s directing that affection to other people instead and GODDD. GODDDD!!!!

like yeah somebody giving izzy a kiss on the cheek that’s incredible but what about izzy giving someone else a kiss on the cheek huh??? ever consider that?????? ever imagine him doing that and then immediately blushing and looking away after??? BECAUSE BOY I AM.

I don’t even care what ship it is I just. god. izzy learning how to seek affection!! izzy gaining the confidence to touch people and kiss them and reach out when he always stopped himself before!!! touch starved izzy works both ways guys!!!! it’s not just about wanting to be touched, it’s about wanting to touch people back too!!!!!!!!

like… izzy interrupting stede while he’s rambling about something by pulling him in by the collar and planting hard, dizzying kiss on him that leaves stede blinking like an idiot as he watches izzy walk away - because regardless of whatever excuse izzy mutters about ‘shutting him up’, it’s still the first time that izzy’s ever initiated a kiss with him. AND THEN AND THEN!!!!! some time later, after even more progress, the first time izzy leans in to kiss stede gently. to press a soft, chaste kiss to his lips without any excuse or pretense other than the fact that he wanted to.

one concept that is especially breaking me is the idea of like, in a steddyhands scenario where it’s the first time ed and izzy are intimate together - (at least, the first time in years and years) - and izzy is just so completely overwhelmed by the idea that he can touch ed. he can’t even comprehend it - even after he’s given explicit permission, his hands are just trembling, barely even grazing over ed’s skin because he’s wanted this so fucking long and he’s so scared to fuck it up or hurt him or get rejected again and he’s just so incredibly reverent and tearing up because he can’t fucking believe he’s allowed to have this. he’s wanted to touch him gently for so long. he really did. he just never thought he could. but now he gets to run his fingers over soft skin and through his silvery hair and he still isn’t sure if he’s dreaming or not.

AND ANOTHER FUCKING THOUGHT. what if. oh. god. give me a minute. what if izzy is still at the stage where he’s not ready to reciprocate affection in his relationships yet, but he’s yearning to do it so badly, so the only time he even dares to touch his lover is when they’re asleep. I swear I don’t mean like in a sexual creepy way I’m just thinking like… imagine izzy falls into bed with lucius at some point and yknow, it’s still not really more than a sex thing, but at the very least lucius has finally convinced him to stay the night and izzy… izzy…… izzy is awake while lucius is sleeping, and watching him silently, the way his chest rises and falls, and shit, his hair just looks so soft… so he reaches out to run his hand over lucius’ hair, ever so lightly so as not to wake him up…… (bonus points if lucius is secretly awake and immediately has a moment of ‘oh god I’m so fucked’ because if he wasn’t down bad for this man before he certainly is now!!)

just. izzy touching people. izzy being allowed to touch people. izzy trying so hard to learn how to be gentle because all he ever knew was how to hurt people. izzy holding his partner like they’re made of glass and if he touches them even slightly he’ll shatter them with all his stained, jagged edges. izzy surprising people with his tenderness. izzy finally showing someone all the love and romantic sappy bullshit that he’s kept locked up deep inside himself for years and years. izzy being a fucking adorable sweetheart. izzy!!!!!!!!!!

#CAN YOU TELL IM INSANE #this concept hit me in the chest like a fucking canon the other day and I’m still recovering #izzy hands #ofmd #sobs and cries and sobs and cries and weeps and wails

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rottorex · 9 months

Note

Maybe something a little bit like Snake bites

Hmm 🤔 I can give you some NSFW Dom Obanai headcanons since his sexuality is what’s focused on in that fic. Still Obamitsu centered ofc bc we all know what I love writing.

Some of these might be a little contradictory and cringe, but y’all get me I know you do. Some time has passed since I wrote snake bites and my thoughts of their smex life has changed just a bit.

****I’m sure you know but if you didn’t, anon is speaking in ref to this old oneshot of mine. (Shameless plug bc I actually recently edited/revamped it)

🔞minors DNI im so serious. I’m mean and annoying I will block u. Minors deserve a space online! Just not here while I’m talkin bout’ sex

Ignore the typos this is for fun!

Dominant Obanai HC’s

In my mind, Obanai is the ultimate final boss of switches. This man holds zero preference in whether he Tops or bottoms bc he really only cares about one thing. Her

Indiscriminate Giver and body worshiper. He’s almost entirely focused on making Mitsuri feel pretty and desirable. Heavy handed with his groping. Likes to squeeze at her breasts and slap her ass. Prefers to bite and suck on her inner thighs. The skin there is unfathomably soft. It feels good between his teeth and they’re sensitive enough to make her twitch.

Him being a switch aside, if he’s topping her…well 👀

Service Dom, I cannot stress this enough. Can get borderline sadistic with how many Orgasms he’s determined to give her. Half of his motivations for it is just getting off on pleasing her. The other half is the need to fuel his ego. Maybe even prove to himself that he’s good enough. He wants to be the only one who can make her feel good. Very good

Will use any and everything to get her off. His mouth, his fingers- one of the tens of toys and contraptions hes bought her. (He fantasies about getting her one of those fuck machines.)

Refuses to give her any dick unless she’s over stimulated and only has one O’ left in her.

Obsessed with eating pussy (you’d need a crowbar to pry him off of her). Has a slightly humiliating habit of cumming in his pants prematurely from getting too excited over it. Will suck her clit till she’s grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him off.

In love with every aspect of her, from her body to the core of her being. That being said…her body? Divine. Perfection.

Loves to watch her masturbate sometimes. Wont even touch himself. just watches to obsess over how gorgeous she is.

I know everyone thinks he’s a boob guy, and I see it! Especially if he’s in a bottoming for her and she’s just smothering him. He loves that shit. But in my mind he loves every part of her equally…and then her thighs just the smallest bit more.

She’s got a lot of insecurities, she’s a bit anxious, and he has a zero tolerance rule for any negativity towards his partner. And Mitsuri is not exempt from that. Meaning even a hushed comment about her looking bad is reprimanded later.

Will withhold orgasms until she repeats whatever gushy praises he’s cooked up for her. She wants to cum? Not until calls herself a pretty girl.

Makes her watch herself. He loves having her masturbate infront of mirrors. Or even positions the both of them to where she has to watch him fuck her.

A bit of a call back to him liking to watch her: On rare occasions, when he’s in the mood for a little quick action, he’ll fuck her face. Because yes her mouth feels so good on him, but oh does she look so cute with a messy face and runny makeup. Will happily cum on her if she asks for it.

He’s not a fan of hitting, that’s his princess, tf 🤨. But sometimes she’ll request for him to handle her roughly, and he will comply because she asked him to. He tried slapping her in the face once and immediately cried over it. Apologized 4000 times despite Mitsuri literally saying “hit me” 30 seconds prior.

#obamitsu #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #ao3 #shyanswersasks #headcanons #this was so EMBARASSING to write #don’t bully me #iguro obanai #obanai smut #mitsuri kanroji #iguro x reader

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atsadi-shenanigans · 4 months

Text

Feeding Alligators 19 - Bite Night

Astarion spills a little secret.

On AO3.

Astarion lurches back and onto his feet. Says something you can’t understand because you are rationing your last dirt potion. But this seems pretty goddamn important, so you reach for your bag without breaking eye contact. His gaze follows your hands, and even in the dim light from a dying campfire, you can tell his whole frame tenses. And then sags—less than an inch—when you pull out the potion bottle and unstopper it with your teeth.

Still tastes like ass.

“What the fuck,” you say.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Astarion says. He’s back up another three paces or so, hands still held up.

It looks like a man looming over you with his mouth fucking open. Are bath salts a thing here? Is he some kind of serial killer?

“What’s it look like?” you say.

“I wasn’t going to hurt you!”

“So, what, you just spend your nights breathing on us while we all sleep?”

“No, no. Nothing like that.” His usual smirk and swagger are gone. They’ve left someone with his ridiculous, poofy hair and the frilly ass shirt and the scaredest aura you’ve seen in a long, long while. When you don’t scream or try to kick him—his eyes track to your hands again—he continues. Winces. “I just needed a little, well, blood?”

You’re not sure that translates correctly. Then you’re not sure you heard it correctly. Because it makes no damn sense. Not at all. Gale is the cook, and you’ve never seen Astarion fucking around with potions—you’ve never seen Gale fucking around with blood in his potion brewing, but you brain makes that jump anyhow.

“Why?” you drawl.

He blinks at you. Seems a little taken aback, almost sheepish. Both at himself, and at you, for some reason.

His gaze darts behind you, to the rest of the sleeping party. He swallows visibly. “I…might have neglected to mention something about me. Not anything momentous! It’s just well, I might happen to be a…what’s the best way to put this. A vampire! Haha!”

The laugh comes out as this bright, theatrical giggle. Dude might as well be flashing jazz hands to go with it.

A vampire. Like…like fucking dracula? If it translated correctly. If your brain hasn’t started bleeding in your sleep as the worm hits some vital artery and this is the last, bizarre hurrah delusion as your cerebral tissues wither and die of oxygen deprivation.

“A vampire,” you say to see if it sounds like bullshit out loud and yep, sure does.

“Yes.” He still wears that fake smile. One that morphs as you watch. Twists into nervousness. “I’m not some monster, though. I feed on animals: boars, deer, kobolds. Whatever I can get. I’m…just too slow right now. Too weak.”

Boars. Like the one y’all found on the road two days ago. The one he just left there for anyone to see.

…you could have sworn he was smart. He couldn’t come up with half the shit he’s said to you without a touch of clever. But that seems so…amateur hour.

Then again, you come from a world with fifty-seven new murder podcasts a week, so there’s that.

“So like, ‘drink the blood of the innocent’, honest-to-god actual vampire,” you say. “That’s a fucking thing that exists here?”

“Gods have very little to do with it. Do you not have vampires in your realm?”

“No. Not, I mean. There’s people who call themselves that? But they just dye their hair and wear dramatic makeup and I think some of them actually do lick each others’ blood, but that’s how you catch hepatitis, so…”

It’s his turn to stare all baffled at you. He starts to open his mouth.

“They’re not like,” you say and gesture to him. “They’re just pretending.”

Red eyes and pale skin. You’d thought he was albino. Some kind of fantasy albino that could bask under the sun, because this is a whole different plane of existence and what the fuck do you know?

Looking now, he’s not the same type of pale, though. He’s more corpse-pale. And in the low firelight, as he’d loomed over you, you had spotted, you realize, a set of fangs he’s until now kept hidden.

Man is a fucking vampire.

“But you know what that is?” he says. “What I am?”

He keeps checking behind you. He was on first watch (…that explains so much right now; he always took first watch). Considering he’s kept the entire thing hidden until you caught him, you know, with his fangs over your neck, and considering the way his body language screams, you’re guessing he expects a strong, negative reaction.

“Maybe we should talk about this closer to your tent?” you say. “Y’know, out of earshot?”

It’s the second time he’s ever dropped his “smug bastard” look in surprise. At least that you’ve seen. His mouth even flaps a couple of times before he recovers and slides the Goblin Man persona back on.

“Yes, of course,” he says, sweeps one arm out to indicate “after you.” Seems to consider how vulnerable this leaves you and he sort of freezes. Must not like the idea of you at his back, either.

Well. He’s had plenty of time to slit your throat since you met. And he rolled back when you woke up, instead of lunging and pinning you and ripping your throat like some 30 Days of Night motherfucker.

You climb to your feet (fuck fuck! The burn! Why does your fucking scalp hurt??) and stagger past him like an arthritic grandma.

His footsteps follow a second later. You hear footsteps, which means he wants you to, so that’s likely a good sign?

You stop next to his tent, just at the edge of the dim glow of the embers, and give him the best look-over you can manage in the gloom.

“My people got all kinds of stories about vampires,” you say. “But they’re just stories, and a lot of them don’t match each other. I been saying we don’t have monsters or magic or all that. Just humans and other animals.”

“No monsters? At all?” he says. “How…quaint.”

“None,” you say. “So you’re gonna have to explain to me what this all means, and I’m gonna ask around later to make sure it all checks out.”

“Ask?” His voice goes hard and his entire frame snaps into harsh angles.

“Gale. About history. Monsters and such. I don’t know shit and everyone knows it. No one’ll find that weird.”

He watches you for a breath. Two. The muscles of his jaw work. Then he sighs all harsh through his nose. “I suppose that’s to be expected. Fine.”

And he explains. A “vampire spawn”, not a “real” vampire. Some fuckface named Cazador. He gives no details about his life, no emotions, only what you might call a wikipedia summary of what, exactly he is. But you can imagine a lot of horror around the words “puppet” and “slave.” You can imagine a lot.

“We’ll be in the swamp tomorrow to ambush this meeting you’re so curious about,” he says, moving on like he didn’t toss a psychological grenade into your lap. “If I need to fight, I need to get my strength up. And, well. I’m too slow to hunt at the moment. One too many ambushes, lately.”

“How often do you need, um, blood?”

“Oh, most days animals are just fine. I hunt most nights, but I can go much longer in between, if I need to.”

The tadpole shivers in your brain. You flinch, and notice Astarion do the same. It’s trying to mind whammy y’all. The connection flows between you, and you catch a sliver of cracked and quivering memories, of—

no no NO.

Of fear.

You slam it shut so hard the both of you stumble.

Fear. No.

Terror. The man is scared absolutely shitless right now. And he can go longer in between meals the way a human can technically survive a few days without water. You’d felt starvation chewing through his gut, an icy thing made of teeth chewing, chewing, chewing at him.

“Fuck!” you say and clamp a hand over your mouth.

None of the others stirs.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you whisper shout. You’d felt it for less than a second and it had damn near turned your brains to scrambled eggs. You’re not even sure how the man is capable of standing upright, let alone using facial expressions and gesticulating.

A snarl tugs at his lips, even as his facial muscles twitch and you watch in real time as he smooths his expression out into a pleasant neutrality.

Motherfucker. This, he…this is so fucked up.

“At best I was sure you’d say no,” he says. “More likely, you’d ram a stake through my ribs.

You’ve demonstrated to god and country tonight that you literally do not possess the upper body strength to pull that off. Nor do you have a stake (he’d been watching your hands so carefully).

“No, I needed you to trust me. And you can trust me.”

“You put a knife to my throat the first time you saw me,” you say.

His smarm bleeds over him like a drop of water touched to a smear of paint. “Well, darling, it was quite a day. I’d been abducted and infected once already. I’m sure you can appreciate having a healthy amount of caution.”

He’s not wrong. If you’d found any weapons on the butthole ship, you probably would have pointed one right back at him. Had he not tackled you to the ground, anyway.

It was a fucking day.

You glance back to the others. Gale curled on his side with his toes peeking out. Shadowheart bundled into a ball with only her long ponytail to indicate she was anything more than a lump of bedding. Lae’zel on her back with one leg kicked up, for some reason.

“Have you bitten any of us before?” you say.

He makes a sound, one part smug, and one part wistful. “Darling, I’m good, but I’m not that good. You’d have noticed if I spent the night devouring you.”

You roll your eyes. “So what stopped you?”

“It seemed ill mannered to bite without asking. Present instance excluded.”

So he could have, but didn’t. Whether he’d actually considered it rude, or some other reason he’s not telling you (getting caught), y’all’ve been laying your necks out for the taking for days. He hasn’t been pulling a dracula and draining one of y’all slowly. He didn’t slaughter his way through camp in a feral blood rage.

And yes, you’re pretty sure part of that is the reason he’s tagging along with y’all anyway: security in numbers. Still. He can control himself, present instance excluded.

“Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, you been trustworthy so far. Mostly.”

“Thank you,” he says. For the first time tonight, the tension laced through him seems to genuinely crack and give. You think that’s the end of it, and almost turn back to your warm bedroll. But then he makes a hesitant gesture and you stop. “Do you think you could, ah, trust me just…a little further? I only need a taste, I swear.”

A taste…?

Oh.

Ohhh.

“My blood,” you say like a clever person.

“Not all of it! Just enough to get me back to top form. For whatever we find tomorrow.”

The vampire wants to drink your blood. That’s…

“Um,” you say.

Focus. You need to focus.

That hunger. Your own middle still shivers from the memory, and you’d only brushed his thoughts for a moment. You know hunger. Or thought you did (it seems a mewling kitten in comparison to the thing Astarion is carrying around). You wouldn’t wish it on anyone. And you donated blood back home on the regular. It’s just blood, right? Your body will make more, and the guy could use it.

But vampirism is a bit different from a sterile needle, and it has side effects in all the movies. You take a breath.

“Two questions. One, is this in any way, shape or form, going to result in killing me now or in the future?”

His face does something complicated before he answers, “Not at all. I don’t intend to take any more than you can handle.”

Your stomach flutters. This is batshit (ha). Surely y’all could bring him something still kicking in the morning? Go hunting for him?

You fold your hands so he can’t see them shake. “Second question: is this going to, in any way shape or form now or in the future, turn me into a vampire?”

The emotion in his next smile you can identify. Bitterness. His chin drops, casting even the faint shine from the embers out of his eyes and leaving them dark.

“I’m a spawn, not a real vampire, darling. My bite won’t do anything more than sip from that precious neck of yours.”

Okay. Right. Questions answered. You think he’s telling the truth? You hope he’s telling the truth. Sweet baby jesus on a pogo stick, this is the stupid idea. Stoopid with two o’s.

“Can you pass on any other diseases you might have?” you say because you still have a handful of braincells trying to do their job.

“That’s three questions.”

You stare.

He grins all fake; you’re learning to recognize it.

“D’you want my blood or not?”

He actually slouches as he rolls his eyes.

“Alright, fine. Not that I know of.” He holds one finger up to silence the next question forming on your lips. “I can experience side effects if I feed on something rancid. But as I’m dead—technically undead—I can neither catch nor spread mortal diseases.”

…sounds logical. Also sends a cascade of biology questions churning through your mind. Maybe he’ll let you ask, later? This’ll probably increase your standing with him, if no one else, and that’s a step towards proving you aren’t a total drain on camp resources (the fucking irony). Besides, it’s not your first donation, even if the form and function are vastly different (are they, though?).

You roll your head onto your shoulders. Shrug a couple of times to loosen the tension. Say, “Okay then.”

He actually backs up. Not a full step, just a surprised sort of shuffle. In the gloom, the dead fire paints his shocked expression in shades of orange and red.

“Really?” he says, and even he can’t hide the genuine surprise in his voice. “I…of course. I’ll not take one drop more than I need.”

You’re doing this. Good god, you’re doing this.

He seems to psyche himself up, too. Straightens and gives his shoulders a wiggle. His chin lifts, mask slides back into place. He says, “Let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #fanfic #astarion #astarion x tav #it's a goddamn isekai #i'm not sorry #no betas we die like men #tavstarion #plus size tav #demisexual tav #slow burn #feeding alligators fic

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