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rainrot4me · 5 months ago

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Ticci Toby General Headcannons

Summary: Basic, SFW, and NSFW head-cannons. My personal thoughts, feelings, and opinions about Toby as a character.

TW: NSFW below the cut, minors dni! Above the cut is sfw!

Words: 1.6k

A/N: NSFW is reader with female anatomy.

Basic:

- Even though he is socially awkward and tense, he’s a master at people watching. Can read a room and know more details about a person within seconds of watching them interact.

- Likes his alone time.

- He would probably say Tim and Brian are his closest friends, the same can’t be said about Masky and Hoodie, however.

- A pro at zoning out. Takes you waving your hand in his face before he snaps back.

- Bipolar? More-so emotional switch. Tends to be soft-spoken and awkward, trying his best to keep conversation while fidgeting his hands, looking anywhere but at your face. Otherwise, he’s an in-your-face, aggressive, no emotional resistance when that flip is switched. Lots of teeth gritting and yelling, swings his ax around like it’s a toy to intimidate. It takes a lot for him to get to that point, but it takes double the time for him to come back down from it.

- Not easily scared. Will throw himself into a fight and come out victorious somehow.

- Sleeper build. Wears lots of baggy clothing and layers so you can’t tell, but secretly he’s jacked. He may look scrawny, but don’t be fooled. Really strong shoulder and chest muscles from dually swinging his ax and dragging bodies around. He doesn’t think it’s all that impressive. Wishes he was bigger.

- The worst posture you’ve ever seen.

- Let his facial hair grow out from time to time. Thinks it makes him look too mature, but appreciates the compliments he gets.

- Has a secret hobby of playing a guitar he found on a mission. His tics mess him up a lot, but it’s worth the trip out deeper into the woods where no one can hear to practice a little.

- A little shit.

- Hates the heat. Would rather freeze to death than spend one moment in the too hot sun. Favorite season is late fall, around the first snowfall time.

- Big on territory. Never had privacy or respect as a kid so he values having his own things and belongs that nobody else can touch.

- Definitely shy, but not in the “UwU” way, in the “Can you get this from the gas station for me? The girl in there looks mean.”

- Bites his nails, the skin around his nails, and his cuticles LIKE A MF.

- Very light sleeper. Unless he’s absolutely dead beat exhausted, he’ll wake up from just the floorboards creaking. Has to be physically exhausted to actually rest.

- When listening to music, he needs it as loud and close as possible. Headphones are a must and they must be at max. He wants to feel that bass.

- A stray animal lover, feels similar to them in a way.

- Breaks down a lot. Hard to console or even talk to in those moments but some time alone in his room will do the trick.

- Has the education level of a middle schooler.

- Enjoys Gorillaz, Rainbow Kitten Surprise, and surprisingly, older country artists like Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson. “Outlaw shit.”

Dating Him/SFW:

- “Love” “Y/N…” “Baby”

- Loves when he touches you and you don’t pull away. Like when his knee accidentally rests against yours or his elbow bumps your arm while sitting on the couch and you don’t tug away, just sitting there letting him rest. He gets all giddy.

- Playing with your hair. Currently trying to learn how to braid.

- “Wait. O- Okay, so, right th- then left? No? F- Fuck, okay…”

- Favorite sleeping position is with you wrapping around each other, legs and arms tangled together as he hooks his chin onto the top of your head, rubbing your back. Even though you both get extremely hot and sweaty after a while, Toby enjoys the moment before you eventually shove him off.

- Likes to feel your body weight on him, whether it’s laying or sitting, he just likes the pressure and warmth you give.

- Big on physical touch, could really care less if he’s mad or not, just needs to have some part of his body touching yours.

- You could wear or look like absolutely anything and he’d still think you’re the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen.

- Loves how you smell after getting out of the shower, can’t get enough of it while he kisses your warm, damp skin.

- Loves the way it feels when you comb through his hair with your fingers, practically purrs as he melts into your warmth, angling his head so you have better access.

- An admirer for sure, stares even when you catch on, studying every freckle or sunspot on your cheek.

- Self conscious about being your boyfriend. In reality, he’s an amazing lover, but he’s been conditioned his whole life that he’s not good enough and that ideal carries over.

- Tried to lick you through the hole in his cheek once, you both freaked out.

- Sensitive to high stress situations or loud noises so constantly reaches for your hand or crams himself into your side to block out the panic he can feel oncoming. You really help.

- Slasher movie date nights are always a bust because he’ll describe just how inaccurate that blood splatter was, followed by what would actually happen in detail.

- “If he c- cut the arm like that, it wou- wouldn’t spray out that far. This g- guy doesn’t even l- look like he’s ever even he- held an ax before.”

- Didn’t have a favorite color until you told him yours. Says his is the same, just cause it’s your favorite.

- Very immature in the sense of relationship problems. He thinks everything can be solved if he just avoids it, and that includes you. It takes a lot of bickering and patience, but he’ll eventually get over himself and force a solution.

- Doesn’t open up about anything ever. You’ve gotta fight tooth and nail for him to even mention his mother’s name. Will tell you all about his latest mission, however, whether you want to hear or not.

- Throws things or hits you playfully just to turn around and go “Who did that??”

Dating Him/NSFW:

- Boobs. Tits. Breasts. He needs them in his palms immediately.

- A big biter. Will never bite hard enough to draw blood but gets so turned on at seeing his teeth marks in your skin. Big territory thing.

- “Mine. See, I m- marked ‘ya. You’re mine.”

- His dream is to fuck your tits, too shy to ask though.

- Always been a “jerk off as fast as you can” kind of guy, fisting his cock fast to just get off. So when you slowly slide down his cock for the first time, taking your time to adjust and grind your hips at a steady pace, he nearly cums on the spot from how overwhelming it is.

- Bisexual, definitely.

- Starts at a fast pace at first, thrusting and grinding until both of your hips hurt, but then slowly his pace changes, more intentional movements and sinking deeper, more focused on stretching you out then getting deep. Just wants to get you dizzy before he gives you the good stuff lol.

- “Th- That feel good? You’re sq- squeezin’ so tight, ah-”

- His fingernail imprints all over your skin from how hard he holds you.

- Pervert but not in a creepy way. Pervert as in gets a boner from just watching your ass as you walk across the room. Has to clench his fists every time you bend over or raise your shirt up. Can barely breathe if you’re showing too much skin.

- Not big on degradation, but is very big on affirmation, loves to be told he’s doing good.

- Secretly, sooooo secretly loves the idea of anal. For both you and him. He wants to be buried in your ass, your back laid into his chest as he shoves his fingers into your cunt, panting into your neck. But at the same time, wishes you would just read his mind and push your fingers into his, fisting his cock as you stretched him so well.

- Surprisingly, very flexible. Whatever position you’re in he can easily contort to get the best angle to sink his cock in.

- Jealousy sex. Another resident of the mansion catches your glance for too long and suddenly you’re shoved into the bathroom, pants at your ankles as the brunette swipes the pads of his fingers against your clit, biting against your shoulder as he ruts into your ass.

- “Mine, mine, m- mine, nobody els- else makes you feel this good. Right? R- Right? Yeah?”

- A WHINER. Grade A pro at burying his face into your neck/pillow/chest and just sobbing his pleasure through tears and moans. He’s so loud, obnoxiously groaning and huffing as you slap your hand over his mouth. It doesn’t help though, as soon as your hand pushes down his tongue is already out and licking your palms.

- You in his hoodie? Yeah, it’s the only thing you’re wearing while he snaps his hips, pushing your knees back as far as they’ll go to get even deeper, mewling about how good you look.

- Loves to sit back and watch you suck his cock, his fingers pushing strands of hair out of your face as you try to take it all in, eyes twitching the further down you get. He’s not insanely big, just lengthy enough to make you choke and reach all the best parts. Likes to put his goggles on your forehead and watch them dangle as you bob up and down.

- Cumming in you? No. Cumming on you? Every single time. Goes absolutely crazy when he sees his seed shot across your stomach or thighs, your flushed skin and post-orgasm twitches getting him so turned on he can’t focus.

- “You ju- just look so good… Couldn’t he- help myself, okay? Sorry… Can we, u- uh… Can we go ag- again?”

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

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moralesluvr · 29 days ago

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INKED INTENTIONS | b. eilish.

ꨄ︎ contents: tattoo!artist billie, a little subtop!billie moment (i love you blake) fem!reader, quickie, oral, i think that’s it !!

ꨄ︎ gabi’s quick thoughts: i have written 4 fics today please someone stop me IM ON A ROLL. anyways lmao enjoy !!

the tattoo shop door jingles as you step inside, making your presence known. the faint hum of the tattoo machine instantly fills your ears, followed by low rock music bleeding through the speakers, mixed with people’s conversations to their tattoo artists. the shop smells of antiseptic and ink, a combination that brings back vivid memories of your last visit.

you’re nervous.

the last time you were here, months ago, it was for a small, dainty design on your wrist. nothing complicated, but that wasn’t what made you nervous. it wasn’t about the tattoo itself— it was about her.

billie.

the tattoo artist with the confident blue eyes, the baggy clothes, and long, gorgeous black hair. she had beautiful and soft pink lips and hidden tattoos that your eyes always darted to, though you’re favorite was the one on her hand— the same hand she used to run her fingers along your skin when she finished your tattoo off.

you’re not sure why you’re here again. the excuse of wanting another tattoo feels thin even to you, but the truth was that you couldn’t stop thinking about her— about the way her hands moved so delicately over your skin, about the way that her eyes lingered over your body when you were laying in her chair.

“oh, hey!” her voice pulls you out of your deep thoughts, her tone smooth and slightly amused.

you look up to see her stepping out from the back room, wiping her hands on a towel. she’s wearing loose black pants that sit low on her hips, a cropped tank top that shows off her toned stomach and the intricate tattoos climbing up her arms. her black hair is pulled back into a messy bun, a few strands framing her face perfectly, as usual.

she looks… good. too good.

you gulp.

“nice to see you’re back,” billie says, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “what’s it been? a couple months?”

your eyes land on hers for a moment, and you run a fingertip over your tatted wrist, slightly anxious now. “yeah, figured i’d just get another one, you know?”

“thought you might,” she says, giving you a sweet, comforting smile.

her gaze lingers on you for a moment before she nods toward the chair. “c’mon love, let’s see what you’ve got in mind.”

you follow her lead to her station, and you feel like your chest could literally explode with how nervous you are. it wasn’t about the needles or the pain or how sickening the smell of alcohol pads and ink was, it was about how billie’s eyes stayed glued to your body as you laid down, about how she bit her lip when you pulled your crop top up, exposing your bra.

“i was thinking something right below my…um….”

“your boobs?” billie giggles, though her eyes don’t soften up. she’s looking at you so hard and with such precision, but you brush it off on the fact that it’s literally her job to inspect and intricately view your skin before tattooing it.

“mkay,” she starts, leaning back to manspread in her chair as she throw a leg over her knee, “since this is just a suggestive area to place a tattoo, i’m sure you don’t want everyone in the shop seeing your chest. i have a station in the back, would that make you feel more comfortable?”

you feel your body grow more tense, the thought of being alone with billie, her seeing such intimate parts of yourself— it’s mindwracking. but you just shrug, “yeah, that’s fine.”

“okay, dope.” billie gives her thigh a slap before standing up, waiting for you to mimic her movements. and then she takes your hand, guiding you towards the back of the shop and through a door that says “BILLIE” in bold lettering with a polaroid next to it. it’s of her throwing up the middle finger and smiling at the camera, a backwards cap and a long jersey complimenting her frame.

“nervous?” billie breaks the silence between you two, her iridescent eyes locking onto yours. it’s like she can almost sense how stiff you are when you slump into a chair, watching as she closes and locks the door behind her.

“it’s not the tattoo.” you blurt out, then immediately regret it. you basically just told her that she makes you nervous.

billie raises an eyebrow, a newfound amusement blossoming against her visage. “oh? then what is it?”

“i just—” you pause, fumbling for words, being careful that you don’t slip up and say the wrong ones, “i don’t know. i’m just… tense.”

she sets down her tools and steps closer, her hands on her hips as she studies you. “tense, huh? well, honey, we can’t have that. i need you relaxed, or this’ll be harder than it has to be.”

before you can respond, she’s moving behind you, her hands resting lightly on your shoulders. you’re still stuck on the fact that she just called you honey, but you try to relax as you hear her slump into the chair behind you, her hands resting on your shoulders.

“let me help, yeah?” billie suggests, her voice low and soothing.

her thumbs press into the tight muscles of your shoulders, and you let out an involuntary sigh. her touch is firm but gentle, and it’s almost embarrassingly effective at melting some of the tension in your body.

“a little better?” she asks, her breath warm against your ear.

“yeah,” you breathe, though your heart is racing for an entirely different reason now. you try to let the feeling subside, your eyes closing as you bask in how good your skin feels, the knots in your body working themselves out underneath billie’s touch.

her hands move down to the curve of your shoulders, her fingers kneading the knots there. it feels… too good. too intimate.

“you’ve got a fuck ton of tension, girl.” she comments jokingly, her tone casual but her touch anything but.

“yeah,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper, “stress.”

her hands slide a little lower, her fingers brushing against the bare skin of your upper arms. the room feels warmer suddenly, the hum of the tattoo machine in the background fading into nothing.

“you’re still tense, honey.” billie murmurs, her lips dangerously close to your ear now. she leans next to you, “maybe i’m not doing a good enough job— you need something more?”

your breath hitches, and you swear you can feel her cocky smile against your skin.

“billie—” you start, but the way she presses her thumbs into a particularly tight spot in your neck makes your words falter.

“shh,” she says softly, her hands sliding down your arms, her fingers tracing lightly over your skin. “just relax.”

the air between you shifts, electrically charged and heavy. her touch lingers, her fingers tracing patterns on your skin that feel less like a massage and more like something… more.

“there we go,” billie says, her voice dropping an octave. her voice is husky, her breath making your ears twitch, “you’re starting to relax now, yeah?”

“barely,” you deny, the words slipping out before you can stop them. you try to shrug off her actions as her just doing her job, but it doesn’t feel like that when her hands move to your sides, her fingers brushing against your waist. it’s not a massage anymore, and you both know it.

“you okay?” she questions, her voice softer now, almost a little hesitant.

you turn your head slightly, your eyes meeting hers. there’s something unspoken in her gaze, something that makes your breath catch in your chest, and you choke out a small ‘yeah’, your voice barely even audible.

her lips curve into a small smile, and then she’s leaning closer, her hand cupping your jaw as her lips brush against yours—soft and tentative at first, then more sure when you don’t pull away.

it’s electric, the tension between you snapping all at once. her hands are on your waist now, pulling you closer, and you’re gripping the front of her shirt like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. she’s quick with her actions, and you both know that you don’t have much time— she probably has other clients.

with a swift movement, billie yanks your sweatpants off of your body, sliding them onto the floor and taking your thong with it. she immediately drops to her knees, tapping your thighs, “open ‘em.”

you obey, not a hint of reluctance in your actions as billie smiles beneath you, biting her lip, “so fuckin’ gorgeous. i’d be lying if i said i haven’t thought about doing this before.”

it’s a shock to you, honestly. billie had always seemed like a flirt, but the way she looked underneath you now— it was like her demeanor had changed. it was needy, wanting, like she’d do anything to taste you right now.

“please? can i?” she asks you, and you nod, your body language more than any verbiage could do justice.

billie’s tongue finds itself on your clit, suckling at the bud harshly, making you gasp. she’s quick with her movements, knowing in the back of her mind that she’s only got so much time with you. her head cocks to the side, finding a sweet spot on your pulsing bud that makes you grip the table beside you, and you accidentally knock something over that makes a clink against the floor.

“billie? you alright in there?” someone calls, and you assume it’s one of her co-workers. but she doesn’t stop to respond, she just looks up at you with wide blue eyes, a shit-eating grin on her face as her mere licks intensify to something more wanting, something more hungry.

“this okay, honey? this feel good to you? please, tell me!” billie whimpers, though she hates the fact that she’s gotta part from tasting you. but she needs this, needs to know that she’s the one making you feel good— so you offer up sweet words as you look down at her, “feels amazing, billie, i promise. please keep…k-keep going—“

your words are cut off by billie’s tongue returning to your clit, her fingers grazing over your cunt before slowly pushing them inside you, and the fullness makes your head feel dizzy. her fingers curl at a pace that shouldn’t even be human, and you fight to stay silent, since you’re completely unaware of how much noise can travel through the door behind you.

“fuck!” you whisper-yell, trying not to get yourselves caught as you wrap an arm around your waist, finding something to grab onto so you don’t literally tumble off of your chair. you feel your orgasm impending and you grab a fistful of billie’s hair, “m-m’gonna— bils, baby—“

you don’t mean to slip up and call her that, but that’s the absolute least of your worries right now. billie thrusts into you even harder, eyes glossed over as her gaze lays upon you, “wanna be the reason you feel good— so badly….please…you gonna cum? all for me?”

you nod as you feel your cunt pulse against billie’s tongue, clenching around nothing as your orgasm washes over you, your back slumping into the chair harshly as you let out little whines, billie’s hand gripping at your bare thigh as your chest heaves.

when her lips part from your center, her mouth is wet and glistening in the lighting of her office, and she smiles, licking her lips,

“so…you still tense?”

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frenchkisstheabyss · 5 months ago

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♡ ｄｅｌｉｃａｔｅ ♡

♡ Pairing: body piercer!seungmin x chubby!fem!shopassistant!reader (w/ appearances by tattoo artist!stray kids)

♡ Genre: fluff/smut

♡ Summary: For the longest time you've dreamed of getting your belly button pierced but you always stop yourself, too shy about your weight to get it done. While working your usual shift at the tattoo shop the resident piercer offers to do it for you, with a bit of meddling from your best friend Changbin, though it turns out that he wants to give you a little or a lot more than just a piercing.

♡ Word Count: 4.7k-ish

♡ Warnings: reader has some insecurities about her weight, piercings (of course), you're getting your belly button pierced babe so yas there's a needle, strong language, kissing, body worship, unprotected sex, Seungmin has a lil dom moment, grinding, fingering, mirror sex, ass slapping, oral sex (f receiving), pet names (good girl), and otherwise fluffiness.

♡ A/N: Hello my loves, I wrote this as a comfort fic for anyone out there who may be struggling with a bad body image day or who might feel like sometimes that they aren't thin enough to wear/do what they want or get the person that they want. My point being that you're a badass bitch who can get whoever and do whatever. If anyone tells you differently they can eat dirt and tell them I said so, babes - xoxo

♡ Part Two Here ♡

Saturday nights at the shop are always your favorite. It’s a little too loud, a little too hectic, but that’s the way you like it. On nights like these you never know who’s gonna step in from the glow of the neon signs and throw you for a loop.

Like the couple making out on one of the couches while they wait their turn to get matching inner lip tattoos. A decision they totally won’t regret when their two week long romance crashes and burns.

Or people like the guy on the phone insisting he come in for a tattoo you know for a fact all of your boys would die before they took on.

“Look, man, I’m not judging you,” you say, judging him to the fullest extent, “It’s just that most of my guys aren’t gonna tattoo your di—”

“Delivery!” a friendly voice rings out in the lobby.

The front door dings, announcing the arrival of your usual delivery girl. She’s short and bubbly with a bag hooked in each of her wrists, filled to the brim with food. In a hurry as always, she sets them down on the desk in front of you and flashes a sweet smile before scurrying off to her next delivery. You respond with one of your own, hopping off the phone just in time to shout, “Have a good night!”

Without missing a beat, you scoop the bags up and head down the hallway off to your left. Bobbing your head along to the rock music blasting from the speakers overhead, you make your way to the main floor where tattoo guns are buzzing away.

“Food’s here!” you announce but it’s too late. You’ve already been spotted and Jeongin’s swiping the bag from your right hand before you can dodge him.

“Ooh, what’s for dinner?” he asks, already hard at work cruising through tonight’s options.

“What?” Felix yells from the far side of the room. He’s hunched over his table, focused on finishing a tattoo of a butterfly on the ankle of a girl who’s much more interested in him than a tattoo.

“She said food’s here!” Jeongin mumbles through a mouthful of food. He makes it a few steps back towards his station, hugging the bag like a newborn baby he’ll protect with his life, before Hyunjin intercepts him.

“Give it here!” Hyunjin demands, almost wrestling a stubborn Jeongin for the bag.

You feel a tugging at the other bag and by the time you turn to see who it is, Minho’s already passing by with Chan, the bag secured in his hand.

Minho digs through it, frowning, “Fuck, they forgot my sauce again.”

“Christopher, can you control your children before they scare off our customers?” you shout after Chan as he grabs his food and settles down at his station.

Chan leans back in his chair, kicking his feet up. Checking his watch, he grins, “Can’t sorry. I’m on break.”

You roll your eyes, letting out a huff of frustration. Sometimes the real headache isn’t the weird customers, it’s the guys you work for, but you love them so if there ever were a headache you could tolerate this would be it.

Turning to head back up front, you stop dead in your tracks when you realize that one of the first people to swarm you for dinner hardly looked your way. Backtracking you spot the stray, Seo Changbin, locked in on an intricate chest tattoo and Han laying across his table, whining like this tattoo wasn’t his idea to begin with.

You skip over to Changbin’s station, quietly admiring the piece over his shoulder. It’s a compass. Highly detailed. Clean lines. The same flawless work you always expect of him.

“Aah, you’re trying to kill me” Han says, turning to you for sympathy, “He’s trying to kill me.”

Changbin groans, paying him no mind. “Hey, I wouldn’t have agreed to do this if I knew you’d be such a baby about it.

Han pouts, poking his lip out, “I am not a baby.”

You giggle, shifting to the other side of the table to get a better look.

“You are such a baby” you tease, poking his lip back in, “It looks really good. Totally worth the pa—oh my god. When did you get that?”

Your gaze drifts from the tattoo and down Han’s torso where shiny, stainless steel jewelry adorns his belly button.

“A week ago, maybe two?” Han smiles, happy that you noticed. “You like it?”

“Ugh, I love it” you gush, eyes lit up at the sight of it. “I wish I could get one but I can’t.”

Han seems more excited than you at the mention of it. “Why not? You should get one!”

You freeze, unsure how you want to answer this question. You’re mortified of the possible awkwardness of the truth but you’ve been best friends with these guys far too long to lie to them.

“Well, I haven’t lost enough weight yet to get one but when I do—”

Changbin stops tattooing, shutting his gun off to stare into your soul. “What did I tell you about that? You’re beautiful how you are. Isn’t she beautiful the way she is?”

He poses the question to someone over your shoulder and, as the figure rounds the corner, your heart almost stops beating.

“Hmm? Yeah” Seungmin, the sole piercer in the shop, nods sipping a drink through one of those cute twisty straws. You find pretty much everything the man does attractive but there’s something especially adorable about this.

He disappears into his room with a simple wave and a nod that makes you weak in the knees. Every guy here is like a brother to you but Seungmin? He’s different. You’ve been head over heels for him, utterly at his mercy, since he started working here.

As far as you know he doesn’t have a girlfriend but you haven’t figured out how to decipher his trademark grumpiness enough to tell if he has a thing for you too. Far too terrified to make the first move, you’ve settled for drooling over your dark haired puppy dog eyed lover from afar.

Han nudges you with his elbow, struggling to hold back his laughter, “Ooh, you like him.”

You’re about to knee him in the side but he’s saved by Changbin’s execution of a plot he concocted mere seconds ago. You hadn’t noticed that mischievous look on his face but you have now and you don’t like it one bit.

“Seungmin!” he calls out, flicking his gun on and getting back to work.

Seungmin appears in the doorway, more preoccupied with his phone than anything Changbin has to say.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Got time to do a belly button piercing real quick?”

“Depends” Seungmin shrugs, finally looking up from his phone, “Who’s asking?”

“Changbin, no” you mouth, only to be ignored.

Changbin points to you, bubbling with joy at his evil plan. Seungmin folds his tattooed arms across his chest, looking you up and down.

Suddenly you’re second guessing what you wore today. Some combat boots and a short black dress with lace accents. It’s tight enough to highlight your shape but loose enough to flow a bit when you walk. Is it enough? Is it too much? Why are you even thinking about this?

“You?” Seungmin asks, raising a curious eyebrow.

Fidgeting with the silver heart locket on your necklace, you muster up the courage to actually face him.

“I was just, uh, I was thinking about it but I’m working so…”

Changbin chimes in, not letting you weasel your way out so easily, “Jeongin can watch the front desk”

“I don’t even have any jewelry picked out.”

“He has emergency jewelry back there. Don’t you, Seungmin?

Seungmin glances back into his room to check, “I’ve got something for her and my next appointment canceled so I have time if she really wants it.”

With no way out, you take a step towards his room, hesitating for a moment. Seungmin gives you a half smile, more than he offers most people. “Come on. I don’t bite.” Not that you’d be mad if he did.

Giving in, you push forward, glancing over your shoulder to give Changbin a look that says he’ll pay for this later. Seungmin steps aside, patiently waiting for you to enter his room before shutting the door behind you. You jump a little when the door clicks shut and you hear him laughing at you.

“Nervous?”

“Me? Nervous? No way.”

You’re lying and he can tell. When you spend your time doing dozens of piercings a day you get good at reading people. Plus the way you’re trembling doesn't exactly make it hard to tell what you’re feeling.

“Well you’ve got nothing to worry about. I’ll take care of you, okay?” he reassures you, placing a comforting hand on your forearm. His thumb strokes your inner wrist and suddenly your body's electric.

“Uh, yeah, for sure” you nod, your voice light and airy.

Seungmin gently squeezes your arm, heading over to his closet to search for something. After a few seconds he pulls out a small fuzzy blanket with a cute Halloween pattern on it.

“I need you to pull your dress up for the, well, you know” he says, opening the blanket up for you, “But if you’re not comfortable you can cover up with this.”

“Oh, thanks. That’s really sweet of you.” You try not to seem too impressed, taking the blanket as he turns his back to you, busying himself by doing some prep.

Hiking your dress up over your stomach, you tuck the blanket around your waist to cover your legs. Staring down at the way your soft belly pokes out, your brain goes into crisis mode. You’d imagined yourself half dressed in a room with Seungmin but this was far easier in your fantasies than in real life. You feel so vulnerable, one of your biggest insecurities laid bare, but there’s no turning back now. You’re in this.

“So, are you gonna tell me what all that was about?” Seungmin asks, careful not to catch even the slightest peek at you before you’re ready.

“All of what?” you stutter, your mind temporarily going blank. “Oh, that with Changbin? That was just, I don’t know, I’ve been wanting this for a while but I was putting it off…for reasons.”

“Because you don’t think you’re ‘Beautiful the way you are’?”

You cringe at his question, wishing Changbin hadn’t used such a cliche phrase. You squint your eyes, staring into the distance, imagining all the ways you’ll torture him for getting you into this.

“It’s not that” you deny, gearing up for another lie but you back down yet again, “It’s kinda that. I don’t know. I’m not really a girl with a flat stomach.”

Seungmin snaps on a pair of black gloves, “Can I turn around now?”

“Mmhmm” you nod, your dress gathered in a tight fist of fabric above your stomach.

He spins around, pulls up a chair, and flops down in front of you in one fluid motion. He twirls a black marker in one hand, popping the top off with his teeth.

“Who told you that you had to be a girl with a flat stomach?” he asks, inspecting your belly button for the perfect spot. “I like your stomach. I think it’s cute.”

The compliment has the heat formerly warming your cheeks spreading through your entire body. You let out an involuntary giggle and he cracks a smile, a full one this time. The first of its kind in shop history.

“You don’t have to say that to be nice.”

Seungmin marks a point, grabbing a hand mirror to show it to you, “You like it? Yeah? Good. Up on the table.”

You hop up on the table and assume the position. Straight out on your back, hands at your sides. You see it every day. No instruction needed.

“I wasn’t being nice by the way” he says, that handsome face sliding up next to you. “It is cute. You’re…you’re really cute.”

Feeling himself begin to blush, he slips out of view to sterilize the area and get the needle ready.

“I’m sorry if that was weird. Was that weird?” he rambles, mostly to himself.

Today’s full of firsts. You’ve never seen him nervous before, you never expected to, but the man’s ears are turning red and he can barely string a sentence together.

“It’s not weird, Seungmin. You’re really cute too” you say, despite your own nervousness. You’ve been waiting so long to say that. It’s a relief to finally get it out.

“Now you’re just saying that.”

“I’m not. I do think you’re cute. I always have�� you confess, “I just never said anything cause I didn’t think you’d like me."

Pinching your skin with a set of forceps, he aligns the needle with the tiny mark above your belly button, “Deep breath in.”

You take a deep breath in and the needle pops through like butter. You feel a quick sting followed by a rush of adrenaline. He slips the jewelry through so seamlessly you hardly feel it and you’re all done.

“Are you crazy? I’ve liked you forever. Was it not obvious?” he asks, popping off his gloves and taking your hand to sit you up.

“What? No. It wasn’t obvious. Was it supposed to be?”

Seungmin pauses, truly reflecting upon his attempts at flirting. “I tell you ‘Good morning’ every morning. I tell everyone else to kiss my ass.”

“So romantic” you joke before noticing how sincere he is about it.

You instantly wonder if he’s stared at you before the way he does now. The truth is that he has, maybe not in the most obvious moments but every chance he gets. When you’re running late in the morning, hurrying in with iced coffee to win everyone’s sympathy. When you’re all hanging out at Minho’s place and you’re rambling with Han about the dramas you’ve been watching. Or when you’re all out having drinks and you’re simply existing. He has those same stars in his eyes that he does now. Every. Single. Time.

Realizing how hard he must be staring, he backs his chair up, giving you enough room to move around. Riding high on the thrill of actually going through with your piercing—your thoughts jumbled up by the knowledge that these feelings are mutual—you hop up to check yourself out in the mirror with not a thought given to the fact that the blanket has slipped off.

So here you are, twirling around in front of the mirror with your dress proudly held up. Plush thighs kissing each other. Lacey black panties on full display. A dazzling piece of jewelry dangles from your belly button and your stomach does the happiest jiggle as you delight in your reflection.

“You like it?” Seungmin asks, coming closer to get a better look.

“I love it. It’s so pretty” you beam, your gaze drawn to something shifting in the reflection.

Seungmin isn't watching you the same way he was anymore. There are notes of something reminiscent of the former innocence and awe but it’s something different entirely. It’s intense enough that you can feel the air shift in the room. The brown of his eyes seemingly grows deeper the longer he takes in your figure.

“You can’t look at me like that” you say, your breathing growing shallow as you begin to lose yourself in what you see in the mirror. Watching him watching you.

“You don’t want me to?” he asks, patiently awaiting your answer.

You don’t feel rushed or pressured. His patience is genuine but his eyes never leave you. They never leave you to question if that look of longing is dedicated to you or not.

You take a deep breath, making one last twirl to face the man that has your pulse racing a mile a minute. It isn’t just the way he watches you that has you on the verge of soaking through your new panties. It’s the way he sits in his chair, slightly tilted back, arms resting on his legs. It’s like he’s waiting for you, that little grin on his lips daring you to come take a seat.

“I want you to” you say softly enough that you’re unsure if he heard you.

Seungmin glides closer to you in his chair, stopping when his knees barely graze your legs. He leans forward, fingertips tracing the outline of your thighs, “You want me to what?”

As he asks the question, his breath tickles the surface of your skin and you shiver at the sensation.

“I want you to…aah” you gasp as his hands grip the tender flesh of your ass, pulling you in close enough for his lips to meet your stomach. He kisses it carefully and lovingly, taking his time to let his mouth and hands explore all of the softest, fluffiest parts of you.

“You want me to…what?” he asks, tugging you down into his lap, his lips still wet from kissing your body. It makes it all the more tempting to kiss him. Surrendering to your impulses, you pull him into a kiss so ravenous and full of need that it leaves his head spinning in the best way.

You were meant to come in here for a piercing. That was it. Now you’re straddling his lap with your fingers in his hair while his tongue’s halfway down your throat.

Slipping his hands back under your dress, he rests them on your hips, pressing you down into his lap to show you just how hard you've gotten him. Your panties are more soaked than you notice, making the material thin enough that you can feel it all. The thickness of his cock, the texture of his pants, grinding against your sensitive core, bumping your clit each time he raises his hips.

A moan escapes your lips. A weak, cute little thing that only makes him want you more. He breaks from the kiss, charting a course down your neck to tease the curves of your breasts with his tongue.

“Who told you that you could be this sexy?”

“I don’t know” you giggle, a small glimmer of your former shyness coming through, “I could ask you the same thing.”

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he tilts you just enough to give him the space to stroke your clit through your panties, forcing more and more of those sensual moans to pour out of you.

“Just promise me you won’t stop” Seungmin begs, tucking your panties to the side to pet your dripping slit. “Keep being this sexy…this fucking cute…this—fuck.” He sinks his fingers into your core and you swallow them up eagerly, clenching tightly around them.

You throw your head back, your back arched in pleasure. You know without looking that he’s watching you again. You know he’s getting off on how your breasts bounce each time you grind down onto his fingers, your pussy so wet that his whole hand’s slick with your juices.

Seungmin navigates your body like magic, picking up on your most tender spots and knowing just when to hit them to make you tremble the way you did when you first stepped into this room.

Cradling his cheeks in your palms, you come face to face with him, and say to him in the sweetest tone, “Fuck me already.”

Taking you into his arms, he sweeps you up out of the chair, and sets you down on the edge of the table.

“Oh god, I didn’t know you could do that” you gasp, stunned that he could pick you up. You knew that Seungmin was fit, something more than obvious by the toned body your eyes are graced with when he pulls his shirt off. But fit enough to pick you up like you’re nothing? Now that you didn’t expect.

“What? You didn’t expect me to be strong? I’m hurt” he pouts, pretending to be offended but not too offended to help you wiggle your dress up over your head.

You slide back on the table and right out of your panties. “Get up here and I’ll make it better.”

You spread your legs and he’s right in between them, leaving a trail of kisses behind as he makes his way up to a pussy wet enough to glisten in the glow of the overhead light. He can’t resist having a taste, humming at the deliciousness of your arousal dancing on his taste buds.

The tip of his tongue meets your clit, flicking it slowly at first then picking up an unforgiving speed. Your hands find his hair again and you’re writhing on the table, choking back moans with your fingers tangled in the back of his head.

The slurping sounds that fill the room make you want to cum right now. In his mouth. Down his chin. All over that gorgeous face of his. And he’d welcome it happily. Beg you to give him more even. That’s how badly he wants you. How badly he’s always wanted you.

Seungmin’s mouth deserts you unexpectedly, leaving your walls spasming and your stiffened bud twitching in his absence. “Add that to the list of things you can’t stop doing” he whispers, crawling on top of you.

You’re beautiful from any angle, there’s not one he can think of where you aren’t, but this has to be his favorite. You look so perfect underneath him. Right where you should be.

“Getting eaten out?” you ask, planting a kiss on his shiny pink lips.

“I meant tasting so good but…” he muses, the head of his cock throbbing at your entrance, “I can make sure that happens too.”

That first bit of contact, the very first time you feel his cock raw against your pussy, has you purring. Seungmin feeds you just the tip at first, stretching you out little by little, loving everything about how your body reacts to him. Running your nails across his back, you raise your hips, whining for more.

“What are you whining for, baby?” Seungmin teases, giving you one inch after another, “Is this it? This what you want?”

“Aah, yes, I want it. More please. Please” you plead, your eyes growing glossier the wider you’re stretched.

It crosses his mind to spend more time teasing you just a little bit, it’s in his nature to be a bit of an asshole after all, but you feel way too good to play games with. You fit him like a glove and with every thrust he becomes more and more convinced that you must’ve been made for him.

“You’re so perfect” he praises, massaging your curves, “Fuck, I love your body. Your face. Your everything.”

Soaking in the praise and the ecstasy of his length dragging along the ridges of your core, you could swear that you were glowing and, actually, you are. Glowing in his adoration and, courtesy of an accidental glimpse of yourself in the mirror, a fair share of your own.

Seungmin catches you looking at yourself and smiles, pounding into you harder. “Don’t look away” he instructs, holding your head in place, “Have you ever seen how pretty you are when you cum?”

“N…no” you manage, biting down on your bottom lip to keep from screaming at the tremors each thrust sends through your body.

“Good, we’ll see it for the first time together then.”

Using his free hand, he grips one of your thighs, pressing your leg back so that he feels even deeper than before. The force is powerful enough that you feel it in your chest, vibrating down to your fingertips.

You can’t take your eyes off of your reflection, he won’t let you. Your body moves so beautifully when he’s fucking you that he needs you to see it how he does. You need to see the way your tits bounce and your hips jiggle as the tension builds up inside of you and you’re choking back moans with his name on the tip of your tongue.

Seungmin doesn’t need you to tell him how close you are. Your body gives him every cue he needs. The tightening of your muscles. The stuttering of your breath. The legs wrapped around his waist, making sure he keeps punishing your sweet spot, pushing you further and further to your breaking point.

“Mmm, coming. I’m coming” you moan, letting your high wash over you.

He kisses you on the cheek, refusing to let up on you. “Look at you, coming all over my cock” he coos, committing every face you make to memory, “Such a good girl.”

The vision of you is almost too much. Your legs spread out, your brain all fuzzy, your body overstimulated, and your juices pooling on the table below. He can’t hold back anymore. He can’t ignore the tightness and the warmth of your velvet walls fluttering around him.

“Oh fuck” he hisses, pulling out just in time to coat your swollen pussy in a thick glaze of his cum. It’s hot and tingly on your clit, tickling as it drips between your folds.

You stroke his back, comforting him on his way down from his high and he does the same for you, his fingertips running up and down your thighs. The room falls into silence. Not an awkward one but one of comfort. One where you hold each other as long as you want. Not minding the heavy breathing or the sweaty bodies. Just enjoying being together before it dawns on the two of you that you’re both still at work.

“Shit, shit, shit! The front desk is definitely on fire by now” you fuss, rushing to throw your clothes back on.

Seungmin’s not nearly in as much of a rush as you are. He’s having too much fun watching you freak out to care about if there's a bunch of agitated customers waiting up front or not.

Grabbing you by the wrist, he spins you into a hug that calms you down in an instant.

“So what if it is?” he asks, brushing your hair out of your face, “I have to ask you something important first.”

“Important? Important like what?”

“Important like I know we don’t close until 2am tonight but could I see you after, maybe?"

You shrug, acting like you don’t care when you’re literally screaming on the inside, “I guess so.”

“It’s like that? You ‘guess’ so?”

Seungmin slaps your ass and draws you into a kiss that has you ready to drop your panties for him for a second time.

“Fine. I more than guess. I’d love to see you later” you blush, playfully pinching his cheeks, “I’ll wait for you up front then?”

He nods, getting one last squeeze out of you before turning you loose. “Let me see it one more time.”

Knowing exactly what he means, you take a step back to flash him your new piercing.

“Yup, still very hot” he winks, casually leaning against the table he just fucked your brains out on.

You smooth your dress back out, giggling as you skip back out onto the floor to find that everyone’s staring at you. Machines are buzzing but no one’s actually doing any work. Even the customers are staring at you waiting to see what happens next.

Clearing your throat, you hold your head high, and march across the floor. You manage to hide your excitement just long enough to make it back to the hallway where your joyful squeals can flow freely. You can’t remember the last time you felt this excited about something. About someone. About yourself.

You aren’t too big for a belly button piercing. It looks sexy as fuck on you, you must admit. And you aren’t too big for Seungmin who happens to look sexy as fuck on you too. You feel beautiful the way you are, truly, and there’s a boy sitting at his station, too busy thinking about you to get anything done, that thinks so too.

#stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #seungmin x you #seungmin x reader #seungmin smut #seungmin fluff #stray kids x female reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x chubby reader

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skywalkerslvt · 7 months ago

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Inked- Ellie Williams

❥Pairing: Ellie Williams x AFAB!Reader

❥Summary: Ellie gets a stomach tattoo and then fucks you in a public washroom

❥CW: 18+ smut, oral sex (reader receiving), semi-public sex. 1.3k words

❥a/n: NOT PROOFREAD! I lowkey hate this and might edit later but here's the long awaited fic that I took way too long to post lol. Sorry if the formatting is weird- i'm posting from my phone. Hope u enjoy! pics are from pinterest

The tattoo parlour was a blend of buzzing needles and low conversations, the air thick with the smell of antiseptic and ink. You walked in with Ellie, walking close behind her as you looked around. You had been best friends for years, sharing countless memories and adventures, and today was about to add another chapter.

Ellie was finally getting the stomach tattoo she'd talked about for months, and you were there for moral support, as always. The artist greeted you with a nod, already prepping his station.

Ellie seemed calm, but you could sense the underlying nerves. As she lay back in the chair, your hands instinctively reached out to give her hand a squeeze.

Ellie lifted up her shirt and pulled the waistband of her jeans down slightly, exposing the canvas of her skin. Your eyes trailed over her exposed skin, lingering on the slight v-line that disappeared beneath her pants. You felt a rush of warmth to your cheeks and quickly looked away, hoping Ellie didn't notice.

The session began, the buzz of the needle filling the room. You watched as the artist skillfully worked on Ellie’s skin, the blank ink slowly forming intricate patterns. You tried to focus on the tatto, but your eyes kept drifting back to Ellie's exposed skin, the taut muscles of her abdomen, the soft curve of her hips.

Ellie winced occasionally, her grip on your hand tightening. Each time you offered a reassuring smile, but inside you were battling your own desires. The way her body reacted to the pain, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath as her teeth worried her bottom lip–it was all too much.

You found your mind wandering, imagining what it would be like to feel Ellie's hands on you, her mouth exploring your body. The thought of her pinning you down, her fingers teasingly tracing your skin, sent a shiver down your spine. Your eyes traced the V-line of her abdomen once more, and you could almost feel her pressed against you, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered your name.

Your body reacted to the fantasy, heat pooling between your legs as you shifted in your seat, trying to find some relief. You bit your lip, your eyes flicking back to Ellie's face. Her eyes were closed, her breath coming in shallow pants as the needle continued its work. You wondered if she could feel your gaze, if she could sense the effect she had on you.

The thought of Ellie's hands gripping your hips, her body pressed against yours, her mouth claiming yours in a heated kiss-it was enough to make you ache with need. You clenched your thighs together, trying to focus on anything else, but the image of Ellie fucking you, her voice husky with desire, refused to leave your mind.

Ellie attempted conversation with you, but you were too distracted, not hearing her words as your focus zeroed in on her skin. Her grip on your hand loosened, and her fingers splayed against your upper thigh, squeezing slightly to grab your attention.

Your eyes meet hers, heat flooding your face at the contact. “Are you okay?”

Shit. Did she notice you staring? “I- Yes. I'm fine,” you stuttered out, sneaking another glance at her v-line before meeting her eyes again. Something in her gaze shifted and–oh god, you had to get out of there. The way she was looking at you through her lashes had your aching cunt soaking your panties. “I have to use the washroom.”

You got up abruptly, not waiting for a reply from Ellie as you beelined to the washroom towards the back of the parlour. Once inside, you leaned against the sink, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. The mirror reflected your wide eyed, lust fueled expression, your thoughts racing with the memory of Ellie's exposed skin.

Minutes passed, and you heard a light knock on the door. “Hey, you okay in there?” Ellie's voice was soft but laced with concern.

“Yeah, just…give me a minute,” you called back, trying to steady your voice.

Ellie's hesitation was palpable, but she opened the door anyway, slipping inside and closing it behind her. Shit. You forgot to lock the door.

"I was worried about you," she said, her eyes scanning your face. "You seemed... off."

You bit your lip, avoiding her gaze. "I'm fine, really."

Ellie stepped closer, her hand gently tilting your chin up to meet her eyes. "I saw the way you were looking at me," she murmured, her voice low. "And it's okay. You don't have to hide it."

Your heart pounded in your chest as her words sank in. "Ellie, I-"

She cut you off with a kiss, her lips soft but demanding against yours. You melted into her touch, your hands gripping her shirt as you pulled her closer. The kiss deepened, years of unspoken desire finally breaking free.

Ellie's hands roamed your body, sliding under your shirt to caress your skin. Her touch was electrifying, sending shivers down your spine. She pushed you against the wall, her mouth moving to your neck, sucking and biting gently.

You moaned softly, your fingers tangling in her hair.

"Ellie," you breathed out, your voice heavy with need. She pulled back slightly, her eyes dark with desire as she looked at you.

"Do you want this?" she asked, her voice husky.

"Yes," you replied without hesitation. "I want you."

Ellie smirked, her hands moving to unbutton your jeans. She slipped her hand inside, her fingers brushing against your soaked panties. "You're so wet," she whispered, her breath hot against your ear.

You gasped as her fingers slid inside your panties, teasing your entrance.

"Ellie, please," you begged, your hips bucking against her hand.

She slid two fingers inside you, curling them to hit just the right spot. You moaned loudly, your back arching against the wall. Ellie's thumb found your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles as she fucked you with her fingers.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, the pleasure building inside you. "Ellie, I'm gonna-"

"Come for me," she murmured, her lips brushing against your ear. Her words pushed you over the edge, your body shuddering as you came around her fingers.

Ellie didn't stop, continuing to finger you through your orgasm, drawing out every last bit of pleasure. When you finally came down, she pulled her hand away, bringing her fingers to her lips and licking them clean. "You taste so good," she said, her voice filled with desire.

Before you could respond, Ellie dropped to her knees, her hands gripping your hips as she pulled your jeans and panties down. She kissed the inside of your thighs, her tongue flicking out to tease your skin. "Ellie," you moaned, your hands gripping her hair.

She licked a long stripe up your slit, her tongue swirling around your clit. You cried out, your hips bucking against her mouth. Ellie held you firmly in place, her tongue delving into your core, tasting you. She alternated between licking and sucking, her tongue expertly working you towards another orgasm.

Your legs trembled, your breaths coming in short gasps as the pleasure built inside you once more. "Ellie, I'm gonna come again," you panted. She hummed against your clit, the vibration sending you over the edge.

You came with a loud cry, your body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm. Ellie continued to lick you, her tongue gentle now, helping you come down from your high.

When you finally caught your breath, Ellie stood up, her lips glistening with your arousal. She kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on her tongue. "That was incredible," she whispered against your lips.

You smiled, your body still tingling with pleasure. "Yes, it was," you agreed. "But what about you?"

Ellie grinned, her hands moving to unbutton her own jeans. "Oh, I'm not done with you yet," she said, her voice filled with anticipation.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #the last of us x reader #tlou #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us smut #tlou smut #tlou part 2

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pseudowho · 1 year ago

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Hiromi Higuruma Relationship HCs

(help me find the Higuruma artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

For our other favourite tuckered-out hardworking man of JJK...

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- First of all, this man knows he's intense. Whether he's tired of life, or fighting for someone's life, he worries he's just going to cause a partner stress, so he generally avoids relationships. -Not that he doesn't want a relationship, he does; but he knows he wants someone smart, someone who can see the dark comedy of life, and someone who can argue. - Because let's face it - Hiromi Higuruma will argue with anyone about anything He needs someone to share his burning passion; it doesn't have to be about the same thing. - He feels like his standards are unrealistically high, and he won't make these demands of someone, he needs it to happen organically.

✨ and then Hiromi Higuruma finds you ✨

- You're in front of him in the line at the bar, having a fight with the guy in front of you, who was rude to the girl on the tills - And you just roast this guy - Hiromi's having the time of his life, he only wanted a beer but now he's getting a whole show - This guy crawls off, having been used to mop the floor, and you just shake it off, leaning over the bar to apologise to the girl on the tills, and order your drink - Higuruma leans past you; "I'll get hers" - You look at him, and he holds his hands up placatingly; "With no expectation," he says, "nice work with that arsehole. Have one on me." - So obviously, you talk all night - The bar staff come over in the small hours and hoik you out, because you're still talking; Higuruma is smitten- you're witty, dry, bright and immediately happy to talk about bigger things, and he feels so alive - You go out, and it's freezing, and Hiromi feels awkward and guilty for keeping you out so late - Gives you his jacket to keep you warm while he gets you home safely - Sad to leave you at your door, doesn't think to ask you for your number, because he just doesn't see someone seeing him that way until--

- "All that, and you don't even ask me for my number?"

- He stutters - No Higuruma left, brain gone walkies - You tap your number into his phone, doing the drop-call in case Higuruma doesn't

✨ You fall first, but Higuruma falls harder

- To save himself from disappointment, Higuruma insists to himself through so many coffee dates and dinners, trips to museums and galleries, and long walks in the park, that you're just friends - He's so used to crushing disappointment at work, he can't take it from you too - Until one day as you're raging against the machine to him, the love hits him like a bus - You're just waiting for the train to arrive together - And he leans in and kisses you, so softly but so convicted - The train whooshes into the station, rushing you both with warm air, but you're so lost in each other, one of his hands on your waist now to bring you closer while yours tangles in his hair to pull his lips harder to yours, because - Finally - You thought he'd never make a move

✨ After this, you're inseparable; as far as Higuruma is concerned, the hardest part (working out if you're in love) is done. He's absolutely decided you're the one, so that's settled, the man knows his own damn mind

- And he treats you like a man who knows what he wants - He's totally committed, but not showy - This man absolutely has your back, through thick and thin - Will fight your fights for you, but knows he doesn't have to - You read together, a lot. He massages your feet on his lap while you counsel him through the difficulties of another tricky case. You take long baths, working through at least one bottle of wine together, and his foot creeps past you to turn the hot tap on again because he's not ready to get out yet. - Higuruma takes it as a personal insult when you're sad, or upset, or have had a bad day, and curses the cruel world you live in for upsetting you...while throwing blankets over you, making you tea, making sure the house is tidy - Making you happy is his pride and duty - But if you do argue, it absolutely must be resolved. This man will not tolerate silent treatments or going to bed unhappy with each other, anything that can be talked through will be talked through - Absolutely loves quietly ragging on strangers with you, this man gets life from the absurd comedy of people-watching bad or stupid people - Always the first to put the kettle on if you have tea to spill - His bad days are bad, and sometimes his anger at the world seems so great, he must surely be angry at you too - But you stay patient, reassuring, a lighthouse in his darkness and God does he adore you for it - Once this man has decided to commit to you, there is no changing his mind, you've got to ride this one your whole life now

✨ NSFW ✨

- Fairly tall, slim, average guy build. The kind of soft abs of a guy who works like a racehorse - Secretly packing - His big dick energy in Court translates across - His breakdown in his 30s makes him pretty unashamed to tell you what he wants and give you what you want in the bedroom - Views it as an absolute personal failing if he doesn't make you cum at least twice - I mean come on, there's enough injustice in the world without bad sex - Loves it when you ride him after a long day at work, but he'll get mean if he thinks you're slacking - "*sigh* I know you fuck as well as you fight, so is that what you want? A fight?" - Full of praise when you bounce that pussy up and down his cock, stroking your hips and clit, determined you should share your pleasure - Also, sneak into his office at the courts, I dare you - Mother Justice looking down on you with her scales as you take his beautiful cock into your mouth while Higuruma moans without shame; or, the Newton's Cradle on his desk clattering as Higuruma bends you over, absolutely railing you with a wild look in his eyes, holding his black hair out of his eyes with one hand while he squeezes your arse with another, secretly hoping his colleagues are drinking in your squeaks and whimpers outside the door

(they are and they're so pleased) (Higuruma has looked stressed out lately) (maybe a good fuck will cheer him up)

- When he has had a very bad day prepare to be outrageously overstimulated by him, his lips and tongue and that nose working on your clit over and over while you cry and reach out for purchase on anything while you cum over and over, tears dripping back into your hair - "Can't do it? Nonsense. Hold onto the headboard. I won't be done for a while."

Overall, 10/10, husband material if you can weather those storms.

#jjk #jjk nanami #kento nanami #higuruma hiromi #jjk higuruma #higuruma smut #Hiromi Higuruma smut #jjk fluff #jujustu kaisen #jjk headcanons

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austinbutlerslovers · 1 month ago

Text

Model Patient

Label Mature 18+

Summary You’re a high fashion model, with a fast paced life, until it all comes crashing down leaving you desperate for the gentle care of Dr. Butler.

💝Romantic Smut 💝Austin as a doctor • compassionate •caring •adoring •doting• wanting to wait• body worship• improvement of body image •nurturing• attentive • genuine care• hesitant to engage with intimacy• gentle stimulation • soft fingering •protection • lovemaking • orgasms •aftercare 🔗 Masterlist

📖 Proof Reader @purejasmine 🚨heavy mentions of e.d.• lack of self love •attention seeking behavior

Model Patient

The energy backstage is chaotic, a whirlwind of shouted instructions, last minute adjustments, and the sharp scent of hairspray filling the air. Leo, the man with the clipboard, shouts orders over the commotion, his shrill voice cutting through the noise.

“Hydrate! Models, drink water!” he yells, glancing at each of you with hawk-like precision.

You ignore him, your fingers flying over your phone as you film a quick clip for a new cosmetic campaign. The lip gloss you are given to promote shimmers under the harsh backstage lights. You pout at the camera, flashing a practiced, sultry kiss.

—Perfect—

You post the video immediately and your heart races seeing the likes and engagement pouring in.

Before you can even set the phone down, the makeup artist is at your side, wiping off the gloss and applying another shade. The constant back and forth is exhausting, a never-ending list of demands and obligations, but you don’t dare complain.

This is the life you’ve worked for, and you’ll be damned if you let anyone think you can’t handle it.

“Stand up,” one of the assistants directs, pulling you toward the fitting station. The designer stands there, fussing over a corset that will showcase the gown you’ll be wearing. You stand still as they cinch it tighter and tighter, the pressure on your ribs growing unbearable.

You sway on your feet, exhaustion clawing at you, but you catch yourself. You don’t have time to falter. Not today.

“Sorry,” you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper as your vision blurs for a second.

By the time you are cinched the other models are already lining up at the entrance of the grand mansion, ready to walk down the closed-off Beverly Hills street for the show.

You join them, your heels clicking against the marble as you walk out the front doors, each step as practiced as your breathing.

It’s showtime.

As you reach the black pavement lined with the iconic palm trees, your adrenaline surges, masking the ache in your legs and the lightheadedness threatening to topple you.

The stretch of Beverly Drive is packed. Celebrities sit on either side of the runway in gilded chairs under the hot California sun, their eyes shaded by designer sunglasses, fans in hand. Photographers are poised at every angle, cameras raised like weapons ready to capture your every move.

This is your moment.

The music blares as you step onto the runway with a commanding presence. Your signature walk—fierce, confident, unapologetic—draws whispers and praises from the audience.

The gown’s flowing fabric catches the wind, billowing behind you like a royal train. The cameras click furiously, the rapid-fire shutters capturing every stride.

Your mind races as you walk, your jaw clenching tightly to make your cheekbones and piercing gaze sharper under the harsh sunlight.

You push harder, strutting like the ground is your kingdom and these people are mere spectators in your empire. But the ache in your stomach and the dizziness in your head grow worse.

The end of the runway looms, the finish line in sight. You reach it, striking a pose as the audience erupts into applause. The cameras flash in a blinding frenzy. For a moment, you feel invincible.

Then, the world tilts.

Your legs buckle, and the applause turns into gasps. You barely register the concerned voices or the rush of people toward you as your knees hit the pavement.

The last thing you see is the blue sky above and the white hot sun blurring into nothingness.

The first thing you notice is the light. Bright, clinical, and annoyingly sterile, it filters through your closed eyelids, pulling you from the fog of unconsciousness.

You groan softly, the sound foreign even to your own ears. Slowly, you blink, your vision swimming as you try to adjust to your surroundings.

The room comes into focus piece by piece—the white walls, the steady beeping of a heart monitor, the faint smell of antiseptic.

And then, your gaze lands on him.

He’s standing at your bedside, his posture attentive, his sandy blonde hair catching the light like a halo. He looks like an angel, his jawline sharp, his blue eyes impossibly kind, and the faintest hint of a smile plays on his full lips. Your heart rate spikes, and the monitor betrays you with a loud, insistent

Beep, beep, beep.

He glances at the monitor, then back at you, an amused look in his eyes. “I hope that’s not because of me,” he teases, his voice smooth and warm. “Though I’d take it as a compliment if it is.”

You blink at him, disbelief cutting through the haze, your eyes darting to the name tag pinned to his white coat: Dr. Butler.

“Shit!” you curse, realizing you’re in the hospital.

The corners of his mouth twitch into a smile, clearly amused by your reaction.

“You fainted during your show,” he reveals, setting his clipboard down.

“Aside from the dehydration and a few mild scrapes from the fall, you’re stable.” he explains. His tone is calm and reassuring, clearly trying to ease your mood, but the mention of your job makes your chest tighten, shame creeping in.

“I need to go!” you panic, your voice trembling. “People are waiting on me, people are going to be talking about me—I have to do damage control—I need to fix this!”

You try to sit up, and your body protests immediately, feeling a sharp radiating ache through your limbs.

Dr. Butler leans in, his movements calm and measured as he places a steady hand on your shoulder helping you up.

“Slowly,” he says, his voice gentle but firm, his touch grounding you. “You’ve been through a lot.”

You ignore his advice, stubborn as ever, and sling your legs over the side of the bed, attempting to stand. The instant wave of nausea makes your head spin, and your body sways dangerously.

Dr. Butler’s hands are firm on your arms, holding you steady guiding you back to the bed. His grip is gentle, keeping you anchored as your body protests against your defiance.

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him, your voice edged with frustration.“I can’t believe I fainted. In front of everyone,” you say, the shame pressing down on you, the weight of your failure suffocating.

For a moment, you look up at him. His blue eyes are calm as they hold yours, the weight of his concern cutting through your defenses like a knife.

You hate how exposed you feel with him, but you can’t look away, utterly captivated by the sincerity in his gaze.

“You fainted because your body gave out,” he says gently, his tone steady and soft. “You’re dehydrated, undernourished, and overworked. When was the last time you ate or slept properly?”

You flinch at the question, looking away. “It doesn’t matter,” you say sharply. “This is my life. If I slow down, I’ll lose everything.”

His gaze softens, but the resolve in his expression remains. “You’re obviously someone who thrives under pressure,” he says, his voice steady as his eyes look over you, assessing your condition. “But even someone as strong as you needs to listen to their body.”

His words break through your defenses, even though you don’t want them to. You grip the edge of the bed, your knuckles white, as a wave of frustration and shame washes over you.

His words hang heavy between you, his eyes never leaving yours. There’s no judgment in his expression, only quiet understanding and something gentler—something you’ve never experienced before—compassion.

It’s disarming, seeing the unfamiliarity of the warmth in his gaze. You’re used to scrutiny, admiration, even jealousy, but never this. It’s not pity or condescension—it’s genuine compassion, and it catches you completely off guard.

“When was the last time you allowed yourself to rest?” he asks, his tone firm but gentle, his gaze searching yours as if willing you to tell the truth.

You want to snap back, to shrug off his words, but his sincerity touches you. For a moment, you’re not a flawless model expected to be perfect—you’re just you. And he’s looking at you like he actually sees you.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but as you exhale, your breath shudders as if everything you’ve been holding in—stress, exhaustion, fear—rushes out in that single moment.

His gaze is steady and patient, as he smiles softly. “That’s a start,” he says gently, his tone warm.

Your lips twitch, almost forming a smile, but before you can say anything, he reaches over to collect his clipboard.

“Normally, I wouldn’t do this,” he says slowly, “but I want to make sure I stay updated about your condition. I know your schedule is hectic, so I’ll leave my number with your manager so have her call me if—”

“Give me your number right now,” you cut him off, your tone sharp but resolute. You don’t want him filtered through your agent you need to have him directly.

His brows lift in surprise, then his smile returns, this time softer as you see a hint of admiration in his eyes. “Alright,” he says with a small nod.

He flips to the last page of your chart, pulling a pen from his coat pocket, and scribbles his phone number down. He tears the piece off neatly and hands it to you. Without hesitation, you fold it and quickly tuck it into your palm, as if holding something fragile, something precious.

“Thank you,” you say, the words quieter than you intend, but they carry the weight of your appreciation.

You feel something stir in your chest—gratitude, yes, but something else too, something you’re not ready to name.

Dr. Butler stands up tall, slipping the clipboard under his arm. “Now that you’re awake, I’ve got some phone calls to make.” He explains. “Your team has a car waiting downstairs, so I’ll get started on your discharge paperwork.”

You nod, feeling the exhaustion settling in again, but you still manage to straighten your posture. “Thank you… for everything Dr. Butler…. —I mean it.” You say with sincerity.

His eyes soften as he looks at you, and for a moment, the air between you feels charged, though neither of you speaks it aloud. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Take care of yourself for me,” he says, his voice quieter as he softly smiles.

You nod again, clutching the folded piece of paper in your hand. “I will,” you promise, even though you’re not entirely sure how.

As the door closes behind him, you’re left sitting there, feeling lighter than you have in a long time, the piece of paper burning softly in your palm with an unspoken promise.

Something stirs in you—a feeling you can’t quite name but refuse to ignore. It’s unfamiliar, unsettling, and yet, for the first time in forever you feel calm.

Dr. Butlers number is stored permanently in your phone, the folded piece of paper he wrote it on tucked safely in the small drawer of your vanity.

But life moves at an unforgiving pace for you. They blame your collapse on heat stroke—something palatable, something relatable—and it gains sympathy the world over.

But sympathy isn’t what matters…notoriety is, and your perseverance becomes the buzz on everyone’s lips and within days, you’re diving headfirst back into the chaos of your career.

There are campaigns to shoot—luxury brands that demand nothing less than perfection.

Relentless scheduling, each hour meticulously planned leaving no room for error.

Evenings filled with glamorous galas and ceremonies where you’re expected to dazzle, pose, and exude effortless elegance, always flawless under the scrutinizing gaze of cameras and critics alike.

Fashion shows in other cities come next, with back-to-back fittings, rehearsals, and appearances that blur together in a haze of adrenaline and exhaustion.

The weeks pass in a relentless rhythm. Every minute of your day is claimed by something or someone. The pressure builds like a vice around your neck, and though you’re aware of the toll it’s taking, you push harder, convinced you have no other choice.

When you finally come home one evening, the quiet feels oppressive. The sleek, modern lines of your beachfront house feeling almost sterile.

You toss your purse on the counter in the kitchen and place your hands on the cool marble, your body trembling.

Your stomach twists painfully and you dig through your purse, pulling out a bottle of painkillers to dull the familiar pounding in your head.

Swallowing one with a sip of filtered water, you lean heavily on the counter, hoping for relief.

Instead, the medication makes your stomach churn, the pain clawing at you, sharp and unforgiving, leaving you dizzy and lightheaded.

The room tilts slightly, as you grip the edge of the counter to steady yourself.

Your mind races, panic swelling in your chest as you fumble through your purse for your phone. You scroll through your contacts without hesitation knowing exactly who you need to call.

The phone rings twice before his calm, familiar voice greets you. “Dr. Butler.”

Your voice is shaky, your words tumbling out in a rush. “It’s me. I—I feel awful. I can’t stand, my head’s spinning, and I just… I don’t know what to do.”

His tone softens immediately hearing your panic. “Okay, slow down,” he says gently. “Tell me what’s happening. Have you eaten today?”

“Not really” you admit, your voice small. “I haven’t had time. I didn’t think it was that bad, but now that I’m home… I feel like I’m going to pass out.”

There’s a brief pause before he speaks again, his voice soothing. “It’s alright. You’re going to be okay. Do you have any orange juice, or maybe piece of fruit of candy there?” He asks.

“I haven’t been home in a few weeks but… I …I think I have juice,” you say, glancing weakly toward the fridge.

“Good. Drink a small glass, slowly,” he instructs.

Despite your panic, you manage to open the fridge, your hands trembling as you shakily pour a glass of orange juice.

The cold liquid soothes your dry throat, and as the sugar begins to settle in your system, the dizziness starts to fade allowing you to take a deep breath.

“Do you make house calls?” you ask, half-joking starting to feel a bit better.

You can hear the smile in his voice as he answers, “I do.” His voice as comforting as ever.

“I think I need one,” you admit honestly, his soothing presence feeling like the only thing capable of cutting through the overwhelming chaos you’ve been drowning in lately.

“Where do you live?” he asks and instead of answering, you immediately send him your location.

He pauses as he receives it, his voice steady as he replies, “I’ll be there in an hour.”

You unpack your suitcase and shower with your little spike of energy and slip into a satin camisole with matching shorts and exactly one hour later, the doorbell rings.

You walk downstairs, the excitement pounding in your chest to see him again and you steady yourself as you reach for the door handle, taking a deep breath as you open it.

Dr. Butler stands there, looking almost too good to be true. He’s wearing a long-sleeve white tee that fits him perfectly in all the right places, the soft fabric hugging his broad shoulders and defined arms giving a subtle glimpse at the sculpted muscles beneath.

His sandy blonde hair falls in loose waves, tousled perfectly by the evening breeze, and in his strong arms, he carries a set of grocery bags, that he holds with effortless ease.

“You… brought groceries?” you ask, blinking at him in disbelief.

He grins as you step aside to let him in. “I’m going to cook for you,” he confirms with a warmth that entirely disarms you.

The kindness of the gesture catches you completely off guard, and a small whimper escapes you as your hand instinctively flies to your chest. “You didn’t have to do that,” you say softly, trying to protest but your heart is already melting.

He sets the bags on the kitchen counter, glancing around your open floor plan home.

“You have a really beautiful place,” he says, his voice warm as he takes in the view of the dark waves beyond the sleek living room.

“Thanks,” you reply, leaning against the counter. “I live alone, so… it stays clean.”

He grins and rolls up his sleeves with an effortless confidence. “Well let’s get some food in you.” He says as he begins unpacking the ingredients onto the counter. “I’m thinking something hearty and nutrient-rich—some vegetables, some bone broth—let’s replenish what your body really needs,” he says, his tone warm and reassuring.

You lean over the counter resting on your elbows as you watch him work. His hands move with practiced ease, chopping fresh vegetables and mincing herbs with precision. The rhythmic motion is mesmerizing, and the rich aroma of sautéing onions and herbs begins to fill the air.

You find yourself captivated by the way he moves—focused and sure, his forearms flexing subtly as he mixes ingredients in a pan. He’s completely unaware of how attractive he looks, the soft light from the kitchen highlighting his sharp features and the faint curve of his smile as he works.

“What are you making?” you ask, your voice softer now, curiosity breaking through the haze of your daydreaming.

“A simple vegetable and chicken soup,” he replies, glancing at you with a small smile. “It’s rich, balanced, and should help get your energy back.”

Your eyes linger on him, the kindness in his actions feels almost overwhelming, and you’re not sure how to process it. “Thanks” you say the words slipping out as though your entranced.

He grins lightly, stirring the soup. “It’s the least I can do,” he says, his blue eyes filled with affection as he briefly glances over at you.

As the rich, savory scent of his cooking fills your home, you feel a warmth you haven’t felt in weeks—not just from the food, but from the quiet, unspoken care he’s showing you. For the first time in what feels like forever, you feel grounded… you feel calm.

Seeing his final stir as he taps the ladle, you reach into the cabinet, pulling out two bowls and placing them on the counter. He fills them with the soup, letting it cool slightly, the vibrant colors of the broth and fresh herbs almost too perfect to disturb.

You stand by him at the counter to informally eat there, offering him a spoon.

You enjoy watching as he begins to eat naturally, his movements relaxed and unhurried, but you hesitate, unsure at first, but finally take a spoonful. The rich flavor hits your tongue instantly —salty, savory, delicious— everything you didn’t know you needed.

You continue to eat and the tender chicken practically melts in your mouth as the carrots and potatoes add a comforting, hearty texture. Each spoonful feels like nourishment not just for your body, but for something deeper, something you hadn’t realized was starving.

As you continue to eat together your curiosity gets the better of you as you glance up at him.

“I just realized… I don’t even know your first name,” you remark, your voice softer now, a genuine interest lacing your words.

He looks up from his bowl, meeting your gaze with that familiar calm. “My name is Austin,” he says, a small but warm smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You pause, studying him for a moment, letting the name settle. “It suits you,” you say honestly.

He grins, shaking his head. “Good because, if it didn’t, I’d have to change it.”

His lighthearted comment makes you laugh, the intimacy of the moment catching you off guard. For a moment, you forget the chaos of your life—until the realization crashes back, sharp and heavy.

The upcoming Variety shoot flashes through your mind, the pressure tightening your chest. You stop eating, abruptly placing your spoon down as your appetite is replaced by a gnawing guilt of the strict guidelines of your recent fitting.

Austin notices immediately and places his spoon down to rest his hand on your shoulder, his touch solid and reassuring.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks softly, his voice low and calming.

“I—I have this variety shoot coming up,” you admit, your voice trailing off as your eyes flicker with guilt. The words feel heavy, as though admitting them aloud solidifies the weight pressing on your chest.

He studies you for a moment, his blue eyes searching your face soft but concerned then without a word, he takes your spoon, dipping it into the bowl and carefully filling it with broth.

“Open for me,” he says gently, his tone firm yet warm as his eyes lock onto yours with quiet insistence.

Caught off guard by the tenderness of his actions, you surrender without hesitation. You part your lips, letting him feed you, the warmth of the broth sliding down your throat, soothing and comforting.

He refills the spoon, his movements careful again, as you open your mouth without question letting him affectionately feed you.

“I picked a soup because it’s simple,” he says softly, his fingers grazing your chin to tilt your face toward him.

“For someone as strong-willed as you, I know it feels almost impossible to take a break.” He says his voice calm and thoughtful, as he spoons a little more and guides it to your lips.

“So, when life gets overwhelming, sometimes something as basic as bone broth will help.”

He pauses, watching you swallow, then he smiles softly. “It’s just a start—” he says, his blue eyes holding yours with reassurance. “—While you adjust and figure out …how to take care of yourself the way you deserve,” he says with quiet conviction, his gaze lingering on you in a way that makes your breaths uneven.

His words cut through you like a knife, slicing through the walls you’ve built around yourself. You swallow hard, feeling entirely exposed, completely vulnerable under his gaze. His care is so genuine, so intimate, that everything he offers feels like something more—more than nourishment, more than kindness.

When he lowers the spoon to the bowl again, your resolve shatters and you reach for him, your hands pulling him toward you, pressing your lips to his in a deeply, passionate kiss.

He stills as your lips press against his and you kiss him with every ounce of your gratitude and longing for him.

His hands instinctively reach up for yours, gripping them gently as he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze.

“We shouldn’t—” he whispers, his voice barely audible, his breaths mingling with yours, his lips still close that the space between you feels unbearable.

As his eyes search yours, you see it—the way he wants you, the way every part of him seems drawn to you, like you’re impossible for him to resist.

Unable to hold back, you lean forward and kiss him again, your hands sliding around his neck, pulling him closer, making his resistance nearly impossible.

For a fleeting moment, he’s perfect—his mouth claiming yours with an intensity that feels both tender and desperate, his fingers pressing into your waist as though he never wants to let go.

Then, with a sharp intake of breath, he pulls back.

“We can’t,” he says, his voice a mix of regret and longing as he struggles to steady himself, his gaze flickering with conflict.

“Austin,” you whisper , your voice soft but commanding as you thread your fingers through his soft hair pressing your body firmly against his. “Stop talking”

Before he can respond, you pull him into another kiss, capturing his lips with a boldness that leaves him stunned. You don’t let him hold back, deepening the kiss as your hands tug gently in his hair, pressing your body harder against his.

You feel him, his restraint crumbling under the weight of his desire. His tall, strong, muscular frame is almost overwhelming against yours and as your hips brush against him you feel the undeniable hardness of him press against you making a heat flood your body.

“You want me,” you whisper against his lips, your confidence making his resistance falter.

His resolve weakens further, as you step back shrugging your camisole from your shoulders letting it slide effortlessly down your body, pooling at your feet as you slip out of your shorts with deliberate ease.

His eyes roam over your nakedness, the medical side of him evident as he assesses every part of you, but the intensity in his expression impossible to ignore, he wants you and more than just the image you maintain—he wants the real you.

“You don’t even know how beautiful you are, do you?” he asks, his voice filled with reverence as his hands betray him, caressing up your sides.

“How incredible you are,” he says, almost hushed, as his eyes meet yours, filled with an aching need to make you understand what he sees.

Your hand lifts to rest softly on his chest, “Make me feel it,” you say, your voice barely audible, raw with vulnerability as you look up at him.

“Make me believe it,” you whisper, your fingers trailing up to his collarbone, brushing the side of his neck, your touch as gentle as your voice. “Make me feel what you see in me.”

His jaw tightens, his chest rising and falling as your words hit him like a tidal wave. His eyes close briefly, as if trying to regain control, but it’s futile.

He can’t stop himself and his lips are drawn to yours in an instant, capturing them with a desperation so raw it makes your knees weak.

His kiss is intense, almost pleading, as his body presses firmly against yours. His grip is strong and unyielding as he pulls you closer his hands sliding beneath your thighs and lifting you effortlessly onto the counter.

The intensity of his touch and the hunger in his kiss, leaves no doubt—he’s determined to show you exactly what he sees in you.

In that moment, you feel like the center of his universe special and precious as his lips move against yours, his hands exploring your body.

One slides up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing gently along your cheek, while the other trails down between your thighs.

His touch is delicate, his fingers tracing soft strokes along your entrance, teasing you, testing you, each featherlight pass sending waves of heat through your body.

Your breath catches as he presses in gently, his long fingers pushing in with soft care, stretching you just enough to make your entire body tense with anticipation.

“Am I giving you what you need?” he asks, his voice low and breathless, his lips grazing your ear as his fingers find a slow, teasing rhythm that makes your slickness increase with every thrust.

“Yes” you whisper shakily as he pulls back slightly to watch.

His gaze is fixated where his hand moves between your thighs, his focus entirely on the way his fingers slide in and out of you effortlessly.

The sight seems to captivate him, his breaths growing heavier as he watches the effect he’s having on you.

“You’re so incredible,” he whispers, his voice tinged with awe and desire as the slick sounds from his skill make you tremble, your body tightening around his fingers as he pushes deeper.

When he finds a certain depth he curls his fingers just right and your back arches sharply, as a soft cry escaping your lips.

His fingers thrust steadily there, the motion precise and unrelenting, and you can feel yourself growing tighter with every stroke. Your breaths come faster, turning into soft pants as your head tilts back, the world around you going fuzzy.

“I want to give you everything you need,” he whispers, and you gasp as his thumb brushes against your clit adding another layer of sensation that makes your hips push instinctively against his hand.

His lips kiss the curve of your neck as his free hand steadies you, gripping your waist firmly, holding you in place as he continues to work you to a climax with his fingers.

You can’t stop yourself as your head falls back, your eyes squeezing shut as your cries of pure ecstasy fill the air. He increases the pace his fingers stretching and filling you as our body responds instinctively, tightening around his fingers, amplifying every thrust drawing desperate moans from your lips

His thumb circles your clit in time with your cries and the tension begins building until your breaths turn frantic.

His lips find yours again, swallowing your moans as he kisses you deeply, his hand never faltering. The quick thrusts of his fingers send you spiraling, the pleasure overtaking you completely until you’re lost in it.

Your cries muffle against his mouth as your body trembles uncontrollably feeling the tension in your body snap like a tightly coiled spring.

The rush of pleasure is overwhelming, your orgasm radiating outward in pulses so intense it feels like your body might come apart. Your thighs clench around his hand, as the sensations courses through you, leaving you breathless and weightless all at once.

Austin’s hand slows immediately, his touch now gentle and soothing, letting you ride out the waves of pleasure.

“Breathe,” he says softly, his lips brushing against your temple before he presses a tender kiss there. “You’re okay….” His tone is calm and steady, grounding you as a shiver runs through you, the weight of emotion making your chest tighten.

His arm wraps securely around your waist, holding you steady as your body quivers against him. His touch is so tender, it feels as though he’s caring for your heart and your body in a way you didn’t realize you needed.

His hand moves up to cradle your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as his eyes hold yours with a mixture of awe and affection.

“You’re so beautiful,” he softly smiles, the sincerity in his words soothing you as he gazes deeply into your eyes, his expression tender and full of affection making you smile in return.

He leans forward, brushing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, his lips warm and reassuring as he slowly withdraws his fingers.

You shudder at the loss, but he pulls you closer, wrapping his strong arms around you protectively.

He holds you for some time like a fragile, precious thing, his arms cradling you with a gentleness that makes your feel safe and warm.

You savor the moment, pressing your face against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as he readjusts his arms around you, pulling you even closer.

“Will you stay?” you ask, your breath shaky, exhaustion creeping into your limbs and making you feel heavier in his embrace.

He hesitates, his jaw tightening slightly as he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. “I shouldn’t,” he says softly, the conflict clear in his voice.

You reach for his hand, guiding it over your heart, holding it there as if to anchor yourself to him. “Please,” you whisper, near begging—something you’ve never had to do for anyone before.

He swallows hard, his eyes searching yours for a long moment. Finally, he nods, his resolve breaking. “I’ll stay… until you fall asleep.”

The relief and gratitude wash over you, and you smile—a genuine smile, full of warmth and happiness something you haven’t felt in a long time.

He lifts you effortlessly into his strong arms, his hold making you feel both secure and cared for as you guide him to your bedroom.

When he lays you down gently, you feel the cool sheets against your skin, and he adjusts the blanket over you with the same tenderness he’s shown all evening.

As he sits on the edge of the bed, his hand brushes your hair back from your face, his touch lingering for just a moment. “Get some rest,” he whispers, his voice low and steady.

You reach for his hand again, your fingers curling around his. “Stay close,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiles down at you, his expression warm and reassuring. “I’m not going anywhere until you rest,” he promises, his words like a balm to your weary soul and as your eyes drift shut, his hand remains in yours, grounding you as you finally let sleep take over.

You wake slowly, your senses gradually pulling you out of the heavy haze of sleep. The faint sound of a phone buzzing piercing the quiet of the night, persistently lighting up the room. Blinking groggily, you realize it’s coming from the nightstand beside your bed.

Turning your head, Austin is lying next to you sound asleep. His chest rises and falls steadily, his face relaxed in a way that makes him look almost boyish and a small smile creeps onto your lips, the sight of him still there bringing a warmth to your chest.

The phone buzzes again, its glow illuminating the room for a moment before fading. You watch him stir slightly, his brows furrowing and his lips parting in a soft, sleepy sigh as his hand reaches instinctively for the sound.

His eyes flutter open, and the panic sets in almost immediately as his grogginess clears.

“I—I have to go,” he mutters, his voice raspy and urgent, as though the weight of reality is crashing back onto him.

He sits up quickly, running a hand through his sandy blonde hair, looking through the missed calls flooding his phone.

—But you’re not ready to let him leave—not yet.

“Austin,” you say softly, sitting up the sheets slipping from your body as you reach for him.

Your hand brushes against his arm, and when he turns to you, his eyes are filled with hesitation.

“Stay with me,” you whisper, your voice low and full of need.

You tug gently at his arm, and he hesitates for only a second before setting his phone back down on the nightstand. “I can’t stay much longer,” he says, his tone conflicted.

You smile, a playful edge in your voice as your hands slide to the hem of his shirt. “Then don’t waste our time,” you reply.

He doesn’t even resist as you pull it over his head, revealing his broad, muscular chest and sculpted abs.

Your fingers trail over him, admiring the strength in his body, the warmth of his skin under your touch. He watches you with lustful eyes, his breaths quickening as your hand moves lower, undoing the button of his jeans and unzipping them with care.

You tug his jeans and boxers down together, freeing him completely, and your breath catches at the sight of his substantial cock, hard and ready.

Your fingers trail over his tip and down the length of his shaft, the heat of him and the way it twitches under your touch sends a shiver through him, his breath catching as he watches you.

Before he can say anything, you lean over to your bedside drawer, sifting through until you find a condom that will fit his impressive size. The quiet sound of the wrapper tearing fills the room, as his eyes remain locked on yours.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, his voice low and heavy with emotion, his breath hitching as your fingers brush against him carefully rolling the condom into place.

You meet his gaze, your hand lingering on him as you whisper, “I’ve never been more sure.”

Whatever resistance he had left disappears entirely as he pulls you into his lap, his lips finding your neck, kissing softly before his need for you takes over.

His hands slide up your sides, cupping your breasts as his lips travel lower, leaving a trail of heat on your skin.

When his mouth finds your nipple, he sucks gently, drawing sharp gasps from you as his other hand squeezes the curve of your breast. The gentleness of his touch sends shivers through you as your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him closer.

“I want you so much,” he whispers against your skin, his voice thick with need, the raw longing in his tone making your heart ache.

“I want you too,” you whisper breathlessly, your voice trembling with both desire and anticipation.

He lifts his head, his blue eyes meeting yours for a lingering moment filled with longing, and without breaking the connection, he gently lays your back against the bed, his hands never leaving your body as he moves over you.

One of your legs bends instinctively, your knee raising to accommodate him as he positions himself, the other leg wrapping around his waist.

His hand cups your jaw soft and reassuring as he presses the tip of his cock against you and with a careful insistent push, he thrusts into you.

His cock stretches you slowly, his movements unhurried as you gasp, your body arching to accommodate his size.

His free hand slides along your thigh, gripping gently as he begins to move, the rhythm steady and controlled as he eases in inch by inch until each thrust fills you completely.

You softly moan for him as his eyes remain steady on yours, his hand caressing your cheek, while other traces the curve of your hip as he thrusts into you gently.

“You’re so perfect,” he whispers, his thumb caressing your jaw. “So beautiful, so incredible.” He says his words tumbling out savoring the way you feel together.

You grip his shoulders tightly as he thrusts into you harder, the tension winding tighter as your hands slide down his back, your nails pressing lightly into his skin.

“You feel— so good to me.” You whisper the words spilling from your lips with raw sincerity, and they spur him on, a groan escaping his throat as his hands tighten their hold on you.

His lips press against your throat, his breath warm and uneven as the pleasure between you builds into something unstoppable.

Your soft moans only push him further, his body responding completely to your every sound.

He softly pants against your neck, lost in bliss, his eyes closed, his breaths warm on your skin. His lips press to your neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses as his groans break and falter, his control slipping as he nears release.

You cling to him, your hands sliding to the back of his neck, holding him tightly against you. “Make me feel —how much you want me,” you whisper, your voice trembling as your own orgasm begins to build.

He clenches his jaw, a deep groan vibrating through him as he fights to hold back. Slowing his thrusts, he shifts to long, deliberate strokes, each one reaching the spot that sends jolts of pleasure through you. The tension coils tightly inside you, your breath hitching with every deep, purposeful thrust.

“You’re perfect to me,” he confesses, his voice rough and strained as he watches your face, his hips beginning to move faster as your soft whimpers fuel him. His rhythm becomes more urgent, his thrusts hitting harder, sharper, until your release crashes over you.

You cry out, your head tilting back as waves of pleasure course through you, your walls clenching tightly around him. The sensation pushes him over the edge, his groans deep and guttural as he buries himself inside you, his cock twitching as he comes.

It feels so good it borders on unbearable, your chest tightening as tears prick the corners of your eyes. He rides your though your orgasm and you cling to him, your fingers gripping his shoulders, needing something solid to ground yourself as your release consumes you.

When the intensity finally begins to fade, you feel raw, exposed, but so utterly content that a soft sob escapes you. The pleasure lingers, warm and soft, as your body melts into his, the aftershocks making you shudder gently in his arms.

He doesn’t stop holding you, his hand soothing as his lips brush against your temple. “You’re okay,” he whispers tenderly, his other hand sliding to your face, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek as he steadies you.

You nod weakly against him, overwhelmed by how deeply he’s unraveled you, feeling a flood of gratitude and emotion that makes tears spill silently down your cheeks. You bury your face against his chest, his compassion grounding you in a way you you’ve never known.

His head rests lightly against yours as his arms hold you securely, his breaths gradually evening out.

Then with carefulness, he slowly slides his large cock out of you, the loss leaving you momentarily speechless.

You shudder, your body adjusting to the emptiness, your emotions swirling as you cling to him for a moment longer.

You tilt your face up to him, your eyes locking with his as a connection passes between you, unspoken and undeniable, that neither one of you dares to name.

Gently, he shifts, rolling the two of you onto your sides, pulling you close and as you lay in his strong arms, his fingers trail against your back, soothing and steady, his warmth comforting you in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

The way he cares for you—completely and unconditionally—fills a space you didn’t realize was empty, touching a part of you that you thought no one ever could—and for the first time in what feels like forever, a sense of peace settles over you as you slowly drift to sleep in the depth of his strong and loving embrace.

🩺END

🔗 Model Patient 2 AVAILABLE

🔗 Masterlist

🏷️ Always Tag Me List

@purejasmine @burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @austinbutlerfly @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @lindszeppelin @abswifey @aust-een @umika @feralgodmothers @psycheetamore @megangovier @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @faegoddessog @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @finley-08 @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @thejoywillburnoutthepain @i5uckersblog @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @12joeywheelerfangirl @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @missjadesficsreblog @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @jjubilee-fluff @stars-remain2 @ausssbutlershortstories @fuckindontknow

#austin butler #austinbutler #austin butler smut #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler x reader #smut #austin butler fic #fanfic #austin butler smut fic #austin butler x #austin butler one shot #austin butler imagine #austin butler reader #austinbutler x #one shot #one shot smut

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thedeadstoryteller1 · 2 months ago

Text

𝓢𝓾𝓻𝓰𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓼 𝓗𝓲𝓰𝓱 | 𝓩𝓪𝔂𝓷𝓮 𝔁 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘈𝘴𝘬𝘰 𝘏𝘰𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴. 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘡𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘦.

𝘛𝘢𝘨𝘴: Oral Sex, Established Realationship, Fluff, Breeding Kink, Vaginal Sex, Crempie, Praise, My love.

Artist: X / Twitter | @xiandao1213

“Yvonne.. Tell me how much longer my shift is.” She chuckles slightly at my child like whine.

“You’re like this because Dr. Zayne has been in surgery all day.” She retorts. If she didn't have a mask on I could see her big grin. Her eyes shut slightly when she smiles like that.

“Okay you don’t have to call me out like that.” I snort.

She’s right though. I get moody when Zayne is busy, it gets so boring sometimes transporting patients to different areas of the hospital. For the past few weeks I’ve been working at Akso Hospital. The decrease in wanderer activity caused me to look for a part-time job. Zayne offered to help me with my expenses but I refused, so as a solution he was able to find me a job here. Of course I was mortified and refused again, but when no other job was calling I ended up taking him up on the offer. For three days out of the week I’m transporting patients to different areas of the hospital. Who knew this was an actual thing that people get paid to do. It’s not a hard job, however it gets so boring having to wait for an assignment. On the bright side, wearing scrubs is so comfy.

“Dr. Zayne should be getting out soon from his surgery in 15 minutes, if all went well. You can transport his patient to the ICU once closing is done.” Yvonne winks at me, still keeping that same big grin. I can’t help my face turning bright red, she lets out a big laugh causing the nurses station to grow silent. We both can’t help but giggle at the awkward stares from our peers.

“Operating room five?” I say staring at the OR board, “I’m getting kinda good at reading medical lingo.”

‘‘Mhmm.” Yvonne mutters, as she hands me the patient pickup report. “Don’t get lost again.” She says as I’m heading away. Once again she calls me out, I can’t help but to get flustered all over again. There is a hard fact about me working here, I get lost all the time.

It’s been longer than 15 minutes, I made it everywhere but OR five. How did I even manage to make it to the morgue? This is going to be my second write up for patient tardiness. Another one and I’m kissing this job goodbye. I punch the elevator button rapidly so it can open. My stomach is in knots, the overwhelming anxiety is causing me to sweat. I’m a hunter for crying out loud. I can read a map, but I can’t understand the hospital layout. Ridiculous. Consumed by my thoughts, I rush into the elevator as soon as it opens. A loud HUMPH is heard as I collide into a body.

Oh shit. I know this cologne.

“Lost again are we?” His sarcastic tone makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I can’t bring myself to look up at him. I know he has that stupid smirk on his face.

Zayne chuckles. As I try to back away to create some space between us, he takes his hand and holds my waist all while resting his chin on my head.

“I got lost trying to find OR five.” I mutter in his chest. Having Zayne so close to me and feeling his hand on my waist makes my already knotted stomach do back flips.

“Hmmm. Ms. Hunter, it seems as If I need to show you the hospital again.” He starts swaying us softly side to side, as if we were dancing. The elevator doors close and we start to ascend.

“Did the surgery go well?” I whisper trying not to ruin our moment.

“As expected, the patient will make full recovery.” He lifts his head up, still looking down into his chest. I take my arms and wrap them around him. If I could, I would freeze us in this movement forever. All of my worries, all of my doubts fade when I’m with him like this. His calmness soothes me in ways I can’t explain. I am truly in love with him.

He places his free hand under my chin, cupping it softly causing me to lift my head and meet his gaze. Before I can even react, he leans in and kisses me. His soft lips collide into mine. Slow and sweet, I kiss him back. But the knot that was in my stomach turns into a fire, a hunger for his touch and skin. As the anxiety leaves my body, my hands find their way to his hair, I tug on it slightly causing a small whimper escape his lips. I stand on my tippy toes and make our kiss more passionate, sliding my tongue in his mouth. His hands move from their previous positions and without hesitation he lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist, his hands hold my ass for support. There is no struggle from Zayne, he lifts me up and pushes my back against the wall with ease. We break away from our kiss and gasp for air, looking into his eyes again I see his hunger and wanting. The feeling in my pants makes me bite on my lip, his lips curiver in response. A small smirk appears on his face as he catches his breath.

“Naughty girl.” He pants.

“Teach me a lesson.” I smirk

The elevator doors open, and my heart stops working. We quickly let go of each other creating some sort of distance. Zayne shuffles his hair and clears his throat, however there is no hiding the bulge in his scrub pants. Oh how I know he wishes he had his lab coat on. I quickly adjusted my scrub top and hair. Looking at the floor number and realizing we are at the main lobby, Zayne gives a friendly nod at the elderly couple who just walked in, and quickly exits out of the elevator.

“My office after your shift, we need to discuss our conversation further.” He says as before the doors close.

Zayne the man that you are.

The couple gives me a sassy smile and my face grows red. The awkward tension in the room almost makes me throw up. The next stop, I quickly exit the elevator. Now to find the nurses station.

After receiving my second write up, I glance at the clock and see it’s time for me to leave. Midnight. Remembering Zayne’s words I make my way to his office. Knowing that route like the back of my hand, my thoughts take me to the moment in the elevator. The way his eyes looked, like he was going to lose control. His hands on my ass gripping me tightly, the way my cunt was burning for him. He was so confident, so ready to devour me. Surgeons high. I’ve heard of the nurses talking about it before, it’s when after performing a risky surgery the doctor feels a sense of adrenaline and a boost to their ego causes the blood to flow. The thought of cool, calm, collected Zayne disappeared to the man in the elevator.

When I arrive at his office door, I hesitate before knocking. What are you feeling now, Zayne? Pushing my anxiety aside, I place two knocks before I hear his voice telling me to enter. He is sitting at his desk, still wearing his dark navy blue scrubs, the lab coat is hanging perfectly on the coat rack. In the dim office the moonlight illuminates his soft face. He's on the computer typing away.

“Lock it.” He demands, not taking his eyes off the screen. The directness causes me to react instantly. Oh so it’s going to be like that … fine. Let's play Dr. Zayne.

I make my way to his desk and perfectly sit on the corner, crossing my legs like a perfect school girl. He is still typing, not looking away from the screen.

“Finishing the report ?” I glance over.

He closes the computer quickly and rotates his chair to face me, leaning back as he stares me down. His eyes scan my body, there is a hint of lust but they mostly scream admiration.

“Have I ever told you how great you look in scrubs?” he smirks. My dark violet scrubs look almost black with this lighting. I chuckle at his comment.

“They are rather nice but I do miss my hunter uniform.” We both smile.

He scoots his chair in front of me.

“I like you more without clothes.” His low raspy whisper catches me off guard, he takes his hands and parts my legs open. The unexpected move catches me off guard and I jump at his touch. His eyes look at me again, asking for permission. Do your worst. I nodded at his permission.

“Lay down.” He demands as his hands proceeds to take off my scrub pants and panties. I kick my shoes off quickly.

“Close your eyes and don’t make a sound, my love.” His tongue takes no time in finding my clit, rubbing sweet circles around it. Unable to control my movements, my legs close in on his face, I quickly cover my mouth with my hands and thankfully so because his tongue is doing wonders. With each flick and rub, my body trembles sending shockwaves. He goes faster with each squirm. Putting my legs over his shoulders, he grips onto my thighs making me unable to leave. I feel myself coming close to climax.

“Z-Z-Zayne I-I-I’m g-gonna cum.” I moan as quietly as possible. His tongue movements become faster. I bite the inside of my cheeks, in a few seconds my back arches at the feeling of release. Moaning quietly but wanting to scream is torture. He slows down and my muscles relax. I’m gasping for breath, flustered and hot. He gets up from his seat, locking eyes with me once more. His ears are red and he licks his lips.

“You taste sweet.” We chuckle

“I want you please.” I beg him. His eyes darken again and no second is wasted. He lowers his scrub pants a bit, taking my legs over his shoulders; he teases me with his cock. Rubbing the tip up and down my throbbing cunt. Zayne please my eyes beg him.

With no warning he shoves his dick deep into my pussy hitting my cervix, giving me no time to adjust to his big dick. I don’t contain my moan and he quickly covers my mouth.

“Fuck you’re tight.” He whispers almost enough so I don’t hear him. I can’t help but to smile at the sound of him cursing. He notices my smile and starters thrusting faster and harder, the desk moves slightly. “Turn around.” he demands. Obeying his order, I lower my legs and 180 spin onto my stomach, all while Zayne is still inside me. With my feet planted onto the ground for support, he grabs onto my waist and starts to pound me.

Low moans from the both of us fill the room. His thrusting is fast and deep, causing my legs to shake with each clap. A few tears fall from my eyes, I want to scream, to moan his name loudly but I restrain myself. I know he’s trying hard as well, sometimes a small grunt escapes but he followers it with a thrust. He thrust so hard that it causes the things on his desk to fall over, the neat and tidy office soon turns into a mess with papers and pens on the ground. A loud bang is heard when a metal cup falls and hits the floor.

A knock on the door causes my heart to drop. Zayne doesn't stop.

“Dr. Zayne, are you alright in there?” A muffled voice is heard from the other side.

“Yes (grunt) Dr. Greyson I (huff) just dropped a few things.” I’m biting my lip so hard it bleeds a little bit. Zayne pulls me closer, putting his hand over my mouth. I moan a little at the feeling of his cock shifting.

“I finished the report sir, shall I come in and bring it to you.” The door handle shakes a bit but with no success of opening it stops.

Zayne leans in and whispers in my ear “Let me cum inside you.” I shake my head yes, closing my eyes.

“Slide it under the door, I’m changing.” With no questions the folder slides in perfectly.

“You’re a good girl.” He purrs resting his head on mine. With that Zayn’s hot cum fills my insides. My legs shake at my release as well. We both pant heavily like feral dogs trying to catch a breath. His dick twitches inside of me, making sure I take all of his fill. Fuck. Zayne hugs me tightly from behind. I feel his chest rise up and down quickly. He places a kiss on the back of my head. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” I say trying to hold myself up, but my legs are so shaky that I turn into mush in his arms. He holds my weight making sure I don’t fall on the floor. Gently he takes me to his office chair and sits me on it slowly. Small drops of sweat trickle down from his face, he is still gorgeous though. A gorgeous, hot and sweaty mess. My mess.

“I wasn’t too rough was I?” His eyes show concern and remorse as he wipes the tears from my eyes cupping my cheek in the process.

“No, absolutely not.” I hold his hand with mine, smiling softly. “I need to start making my way over here after your surgeries if this is what your high makes you do.”

He laughs, his sweet velvet laugh is music to my ears. It’s so rare to hear. Once again I freeze this moment into my brain. The rarity of hearing his laugh, his green eyes glowing in the moonlight, his hand on my cheek. I make sure to lock it so it can never leave my memories.

“My high?” he questions, still slightly chickling in the process.

“You know .. the high that every surgeon gets after succeeding a risky operation.” I tease.

“My love, I never thought I would say this but I miss you fighting wanderers. The hospital lingo is catching up to you.” He smiles.

“Expect the layout apparently.” I huff.

He shakes his head slightly before placing a soft kiss on my lips. “Let's go home.”

#love and deepspace #lnds zayne #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader #writers on tumblr #lads zayne

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atomicami · 1 year ago

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tattoo artist!abby hcs

modern!abby anderson x fem!reader

✰ content: no outbreak obviously, mentions of needles, tattoos/piercings, vegas living, mentions of anxiety from reader, a bit of homophobia, there are nsfw headcanons so minors and ageless blogs DNI!!, mentions of oral and strap usage (r!receiving), mirror play, scissoring, some picture taking, very inappropriate use of piercings 😀 different sex positions, and i think that’s it but lmk if i missed anything

✰ middle pic creds to @abbystanaccount

these headcanons are inspired off a pic i saw on twitter the other day that literally had me going feral. like if that isn’t the most tattoo artist!abby coded shit then idk what is. so let’s talk about it!

✰ tattoo artist!abby who’s been addicted to getting tattoos since the day she turned 18 and is so obsessed with the buzzing of the tattoo gun that she decided to dedicate her whole career on it

✰ tattoo artist!abby also canonically has her tongue pierced. you can’t tell me otherwise.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who’s now in her mid 20s and owns a tattoo shop in las vegas, nevada, since the tattoo industry tends to pay pretty well there. what happens in vegas doesn’t always tend to stay there, right?

✰ tattoo artist!abby goes through lots of customers on a day to day basis, and personally she could care less whether they’re sober and just looking for some new ink or drunk with some impulsive decision making after a bottomless margarita from fat tuesday’s because she’s still making that bank regardless.

✰ tattoo artist!abby also keeps a black polaroid camera by her station and has a whole collection of photos hung up on the wall next to her desk. to cherish the moment, she’s always had the tradition to take a picture of her first time clients, along with any celebrities that have visited her shop as well.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who hears the shop’s bell chime and turns to see a group of girls coming their way towards reception for a walk in appointment.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who sees you shyly standing in the middle of your friend group, anxiously waiting while you look around her shop

✰ tattoo artist!abby is told by one of your friends that they’re celebrating their graduation season from UNLV and as a memory together they all wanted to get some cheap $10 matching tattoos that her shop offered to customers.

✰ tattoo artist!abby notices that you’re the only one in your friend group that doesn’t have any tattoos and secretly holds her excitement in when you tell her that it’s your first one, because she would love to be the first person to put some ink on that blank canvas of yours.

✰ tattoo artist!abby starts making stencils for your friend group’s matching tattoos. your friends impulsively chose to do matching tramp stamps and of course you reluctantly agree to do it with them.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who, once it’s your turn, tries to keep her cool when you position yourself on the chair, with your front facing with the front of the chair and your bare lower back peeking out of your low rise jeans to her face.

✰ tattoo artist!abby gently placing the stencil on your lower back and handing you a mirror for you to check and see if the placement looks good.

✰ tattoo artist!abby noticing you start to get anxious once she turns on the tattoo gun, and keeps her free hand placed by your hip, and tells you reassuringly “just squeeze my hand if it hurts or if you need a break, okay?”

✰ tattoo artist!abby praising you throughout the whole tattoo process, saying things like “you’re doing so good for me love, just stay still now…i promise we’re almost done.”

✰ tattoo artist!abby who pulls out her polaroid camera once everyone’s finished and takes a group photo of you with your friends to hang up on her client wall, before pulling you to the side to get a photo of just you with your first tat.

✰ tattoo artist!abby letting your first tattoo be on the house and not letting you pay for it, secretly telling you that it’s a special discount just for you since you’re the prettiest client she’s ever had

✰ tattoo artist!abby who runs into you at the grocery store a week later, and you couldn’t help but check her out in the gym outfit she was wearing: dark gray sweats and a tight black muscle tee that perfectly contoured her broad physique and showed off her arms, letting you see how her inked pieces hugged those defined muscles of hers. and her hands…you also couldn’t help but imagine what her tatted fingers would look like inside your cu—

“hey! long time no see…everything alright with the tattoo so far?”

“hm? oh yeah! the tattoo has been healing perfectly…i’ve been doing the aftercare routine you recommended me to do.”

✰ tattoo artist!abby takes advantage of the moment she has with you right now and asks you out on a date, to which you accept.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who takes you out to a lovely restaurant by the strip, and tells you to order whatever you want because she’s been dying to spoil you since the moment you walked into her shop.

✰ tattoo artist!abby holding you close by her side as you walk down the strip with her. since she’s more familiar with vegas than you are, she knows how the strip can be dangerous at night and wants to keep you safe.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who safely drops you off back to your place in her black jeep wrangler, kissing you on the cheek goodbye with a second date already locked in.

✰ who knew that a second date with tattoo artist!abby would soon progress into something much more than that.

✧*.｡✰ ───

✰ tattoo artist!abby who’s now been your girlfriend for almost three years, to which i’m very well aware is equivalent to like a whole decade in wlw relationships but you both are still going strong today.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who manages to expand her tattoo shop, now being a small chain with a few other locations established across las vegas.

✰ tattoo artist!abby loves it when you visit her during your lunch hours, leaving whatever it is that she was doing to any of her other employees to finish so she can spend some time with you

✰ tattoo artist!abby who still has the polaroid she took of you from when you first came into her shop three years ago, placed inside a little red photo frame on her desk right next to her customer photo wall.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who now lives with you, and upgraded her studio apartment to a nice townhouse outside of the strip, since she knows you have a hard time sleeping at night with the overwhelming atmosphere it always carries.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who lets you color her tattoos with markers whenever you get really anxious, since she knows doing that helps you calm down.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who’s done just a few more pieces on you since the start of your relationship with her, but you always tell her to keep the tattoos minimalistic since that is the style you’ve preferred

✰ tattoo artist!abby who takes you out to eat for your three year anniversary at top of the world, a fancy revolving restaurant located inside the stratosphere hotel that has a panoramic view of the entire las vegas strip

✰ tattoo artist!abby who that same night, waits at the right moment for the hourly fountain show to start playing in front of the bellagio so she can get down on one knee and propose to you right there for everyone to see.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who goes all out for the wedding, booking it at a venue not in vegas, but all the way upstate in lake tahoe, so the two of you can get married with a beautiful lakeside view.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who successfully convinces her father to walk you down the aisle at her wedding after your parents found out that you were going to marry her and decided not to come. despite the fact that jerry wasn’t too fond of abby’s tattoo obsession and had wanted her to follow in his footsteps and become a doctor like him, it didn’t stop him from unconditionally loving and supporting his only daughter. and he knew you were the perfect one to give that to her as well.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who doesn’t even let the officiant finish his final statement and wraps an arm around your waist, twirling you around the altar and giving you the most passionate kiss in front of everyone to tie the knot.

✰ but to really tie the knot, after the wedding ceremony you and abby end up tattooing each others first initial onto each others ring fingers inside her shop.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who is so excited to spend the rest of her life married to an amazing and supportive woman like you.

NSFW HCS UNDER THE CUT

✰ tattoo artist!abby enjoys some good missionary, but then again who doesn’t? she mostly loves doing it to you because she knows you get that sense of protection from her in the bedroom with her prominent, muscular figure towering over yours when she pounds her strap deep inside you.

✰ this one shouldn’t even have to be listed because we all know damn well that tattoo artist!abby eats it for her own pleasure. that woman will eat you out like its her final meal on death row. and with that metal tongue ring of hers rubbing against your clit and teasing your tight entrance, abby’s expert tongue alone will have you cumming into her mouth instantly.

✰ tattoo artist!abby also owns one of those vibrating tongue rings, but she’ll only use that on you after you’ve had AT LEAST three orgasms so you’re super overstimulated for it

✰ tattoo artist!abby definitely makes you look down in between your legs while she fingers you, so you can see how much your wetness is soaking up the healed ink on her fingers while she pumps them in and out of your needy cunt.

✰ tattoo artist!abby also doesn’t care how loud you end up getting while she fucks you, despite how embarrassed you get with startling the neighbors when it happens. if anything she encourages that so they can know how good she’s making you feel.

✰ tattoo artist!abby either uses a completely black strap OR a skin tone colored strap that she had custom made to look like it has tattoos on it, because if she was a dude she would definitely have her dick tatted too idc.

✰ tattoo artist!abby has definitely fucked you in her shop when no one else is around..like can you imagine taking her strap in the same chair that she tattoos her customers?? not to mention she’s got mirrors in that shop and she will definitely make you look at it and watch yourself take her strap like the good slut you are.

✰ in addition, tattoo artist!abby also installed a mirror on the ceiling above the chair. she always tells her customers it’s for them to see their backs better while getting a back piece done but you know damn well she put that in her own shop just for you to watch yourself better the next time she fucks you in that chair again

✰ and we certainly can’t forget about tattoo artist!abby’s iconic polaroid camera…she definitely is one for playing the photographer in the bedroom and keeps loads of nude polaroids of you tucked inside her wallet which are for her eyes only.

✰ tattoo artist!abby LOVES doing reverse cowgirl with you! mainly because she can see your whole back profile perfectly and admire the first piece of ink she put on you every time you ride her strap 🫶🏻

✰ i also feel like it’s not too common for tattoo artist!abby to do this but whenever she feels like doing something different she’ll for sure scissor you too. and it’ll definitely feel good on your end because…well…let’s just say that abby’s tongue isn’t the only part of her body that’s pierced 🫣

✰ and last but not least, tattoo artist!abby is 100% the queen of aftercare. she’ll treat your fucked out self the same way she would with a freshly done tattoo. she’ll draw you a nice warm bath to soothe your muscles, make you drink lots water for hydration, and curl up in the bed with her tatted sleeves wrapped around you as you drift off with her to sleep.

in conclusion, we need to give tattoo artist!abby the attention she deserves 🧎🏻‍♀️thank you for coming to my tedtalk.

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vivwritesfics · 10 months ago

Note

LOOOOVE YOUR FICS

Just got this inspo for a fic I'm to lazy to write so next best thing is requesting

Daniel getting his kids names tattooed 🥹

Thank you 💗

I'm so sorry this is short, my mind is with my Harry potter au atm

Picking out the actual design was the longest part of the process. Daniel wanted it to be special, something for each of them. The lettering had to be perfect, a reflection of them.

Every time his artist suggested something, Daniel had to make a small change. It was a never ending process of small changes. At first, the kids names were together, a line running through them, connecting them

But Daniel changed it. He took out the line, changed the font and such. And then he made it so, if they were to have a third child, they could incorporate the name somehow.

After the design was picked, it was the placement. Daniel wanted it to be visible, he wanted everybody to ask about it.

When he joked about putting them on his neck, his wife could have killed him. "Don't you even think about it," she said, giving him a glare. She didn't care that it was a joke. He was not allowed to get a neck tattoo.

She actually picked the placement, a spot on his right arm that was unmarked. Her fingers traced over the skin and, suddenly, she couldn't wait to see her babies names there.

Lea and Tom had no idea what their dad was doing. They had coloured in his tattoos before, pushing each other out of the way to run their colourful markers over their dad's skin.

Daniel had gotten tattoos before, sure. But he still didn't like to go alone. The kids were dropped at their grandmother's house and Daniel and his wife made their way to the tattoo shop.

They were a little early, and there was a long wait while the tattoo artist set up.

At last, she called Daniel over to her station. She sat him down, placed the stencil on his arm and then had it checked in the mirror. It was moved around a couple of times before the place was just right.

And then the tattooing began. Daniels wife held his hand and the artist kept him talking, making conversation as she tattooed. She asked about Tom and Lea and Daniel confessed that he hoped there would be another name added soon.

It didn't take very long to get the names tattooed. Before they knew it, she was wrapping up his arm and sending him on his way.

He finally had his babies named tattooed on his arm

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x reader smut #daniel ricciardo x you #dr3 #dr3 imagine #dr3 x reader #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine

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jayybugg · 11 months ago

Text

dreams come true

Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Mattheo can't resist each other and have some fun in a tattoo shop.

Warning: Tattoo Artist AU!Mattheo, Dirty talk, Takes place AFTER Hogwarts, Smut (18+), No use of Y/N.

Note: I'm embarrassed to admit how long it took me to write this but personal Tumblr friends know this was a long time coming. Based on feral thoughts from @finalgirllx tattoo Mattheo edits (Please go check them out if you haven't). @cafekitsune for the banners as always! Hope you enjoy!

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, looking up from his drawing station when the bell of the shop’s door rang. It didn’t take long for him to recognize you. A grin spread across his face.

“Back already, Love?” Mattheo’s sultry voice asked, pulling your attention to him. You tilted your head, a smile curving into your lips. “Missed me, Riddle?” You leaned over his drawing station, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

Mattheo kept his eyes trained on your face. He knew if his eyes wondered, they would go straight to your chest. As much as he loved to flirt with you and found you insanely gorgeous, you were still a client and he needed to be professional.

“More than you know, Princess.” Mattheo stood up, walking around the table to tower over you. “What are you here for now?”

Mattheo had tattooed you last month, so he was shocked that you were already back for another one. You looked up at Mattheo through your lashes, “I have a new tattoo idea.”

“Well, spill the beans.” He leaned against the table, focusing on you. He crossed his arms across his chest, unintentionally flexing his muscles while showing off his ink-covered arms. You wet your lips, dragging your eyes from his arms to his eyes. “A dragon.” You said.

“A dragon?” Mattheo asked, looking at you curiously. You nodded quickly, “Yeah. Specifically, a Hebridean Black dragon, but more colorful.”

Mattheo smirked, walking back around the table, retaking his seat. He picked up his pencil to start a sketch. “I’m assuming you’re picking the Hebridean for its enormous size. This will be a large tattoo, huh?” He asked, eyes focused on the paper in front of him.

“You know me so well, Riddle.” You laughed, “Yes, this will be a large tattoo. I want it to wrap around my whole thigh, the head starting on my hip and the tail ending around the knee area.”

Mattheo nodded slowly, looking at you. “Those are sensitive areas, Princess. Are you sure?”

He knew you would be fine with the areas. He had already tatted your spine, leg, ankle, sternum, and side boob. He was the one who wouldn’t be okay. Mattheo was using every ounce of restraint to stop himself from simply bending you over one of these tables and taking you there.

“Of course, I’ll be okay.” You raised your eyebrow. “Who do you think I am? Some rookie?”

Mattheo chuckled at the question. “Fine. You got it, Princess. You can hang out in my station while I get it drawn up and printed.”

You smiled at him, walking into the familiar room. All the ink and equipment were neatly placed and clean. You sat on the tattoo bench, leaning back as you waited for Mattheo to join you in the room. He didn’t leave you waiting for long. Mattheo entered the room with the printed-out stencil and a pair of smooth, black rubber gloves.

“I forgot to bring a change of pants.” You said, slightly embarrassed, “This was a kind of impulsive decision.”

Mattheo stared at you before shrugging. “I’m comfortable if you just want to do it in your underwear, Princess.”

You smiled, standing up and peeling your jeans off. Mattheo turned on his heels fast to face the wall. His eyes trained on the ceiling as he took a deep breath. You laid back on the table, looking over at him. “I’m ready, Matty.”

Mattheo nodded, clearing his throat. He slid his gloves on as he watched you shift around on the bench in just your underwear and top. He held back his groan and pulled up his chair. He prayed to Merlin that he would make it out of this session with a piece of his dignity.

The beginning of the session was easy. Mattheo focused on the designs while he listened to you rant about how hard school was. It wasn’t until he got to the inner part of your thigh that it got difficult.

To have precise lines on your tattoo, you had to spread your legs with Mattheo nestled in the middle of them. He gripped your thigh, keeping the skin stretched as he worked. He couldn’t focus on what you were talking about or what he was even tattooing. He thanked Merlin for his motor skills because if he was still a rookie, this would end with a lawsuit.

You couldn’t help but notice Mattheo’s heavy breathing so close to your core. It was making you wetter than you ever expected it to. Of course, you were attracted to Mattheo, and with him so close but so far away from fulfilling your fantasies, it was killing you.

The room fell into a comfortable silence as you couldn’t keep your voice leveled anymore and Mattheo kept his mouth closed and his eyes focused on the tattoo. After a few more hours, Mattheo finally finished your tattoo and looked at you proudly.

“It looks good, Princess. I would have never thought to do this if you hadn’t asked.” Mattheo observed it, “I ran out of wrap, so I need to run over to the store to get some. Just give me like 10 minutes, okay?”

You nodded, smiling at him. “Of course, I’ll be here.”

Mattheo winked at you before leaving the shop, locking the door behind him so no one just walked in and scared you. You let out a breath of relief, your hand traveling to your underwear. You hooked your finger around the cloth, pulling it to the side and letting another finger tease your folds. You were soaked.

“How the fuck am I this wet? He didn’t even do anything.” You mutter to yourself. You glanced around the room, sighing softly before dipping two fingers into yourself.

It was probably a terrible idea to finger yourself in Mattheo’s shop and on his tattoo bench, but your desire was stronger than your common sense at that moment.

“F-fuck…” You moaned, keeping up the pace, “Shit, Mattheo.”

You kept going, wanting to reach your climax before Mattheo got back. You picked up the pace of your fingers, now slamming them into yourself. Your moans were loud, and your thoughts were so clouded that all your awareness was thrown out the window.

With your eyes screwed shut, head thrown back, and fingers still buried deep in your pussy, you reached your orgasm. You let out a deep breath of relief as you finished.

“That was a nice show to come back to, Princess.”

You jumped to cover yourself, and widened your eyes, looking at the door where Mattheo leaned against the frame. He had his arms crossed, his muscles flexing and his tattoos moving. Your jaw slacked open as you tried to find any excuse for what he had seen.

“I…. Mattheo, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…. I wasn’t….”

Mattheo sat the wrap down on the table, walking over to you with a smirk plastered on his face. He placed a hand on your leg, moving them apart slowly. You looked between him and his hand, pulling your lip between your teeth.

He bent down to lie between your fully spread legs, groaning at the wetness that he was met with. “Fuck, you wanted me this bad, Princess?”

He took a finger, rubbing it over your clit, adding a small amount of pressure. You let out a whimper, gripping the sides of the bench. “Mattheo….”

“I’ve been wanting to see this pretty pussy for so long. Wanting to hear you moan my name since I’ve heard that beautiful voice of yours.” He looked up at you. “And now you’ve soaked my bench just thinking about me?”

“I didn’t mean to……I just…You were so close that I got turned on.” You whispered, letting out a moan as he dipped his finger into you, pumping in and out of you at a slow pace.

“I’m not mad, Princess.” He kissed your thigh. “I want to hear it again.”

Mattheo dipped his head down, sucking your clit into his mouth as he added another finger inside of you, picking up the pace. Your hands flew to his curls, tangling your hands into them, tugging slightly. Mattheo groaned softly at that, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine.

“Fuck, Matty, Oh my Gods.” You whimpered out. He slid his fingers out and hooked his hand around your thighs, being careful of your tattoo. Pulling you close, he flicked his tongue up and down your clit, letting it occasionally slip into you. You bucked your hips as you felt another orgasm coming. “Matty, I’m about to, fuck, I’m about to cum.”

“Good. Be a good girl for me and cum all over my tongue, Princess.”

You let out a breathy moan, bucking your hips up to grind out your climax on Mattheo’s face. Mattheo chuckled. Standing up, he sunk his fingers into his mouth and sucked your juices off his finger.

“Sweet.” Mattheo smirked at you, “Now c’mere.”

He grabbed the wrap off the table, effectively wrapping your tattoo before pulling you off the bench and to the floor so you were on your knees in front of him. You stared up at him, your eyes wide as your hands trailed up his legs and over the growing bulge in his pants. “Go ahead, pretty girl.” Mattheo’s voice came out soft and demanding. Your fingers fumbled with his belt and zipper, eventually popping open to allow you to tug them down.

Mattheo smirk, moving your hands gently and tugging his boxers and pants down quicker, stepping out of them. He let out a small grunt as he pumped himself slowly, precum already dripping from his tip. He reached his hand out, weaving it into your hair and gripping it from the roots as he pulled your head back. Your mouth fell open, in shock and want, causing Mattheo to smirk down at you. “Look at you, such a needy slut. You want my cock that bad?”

“Yes,” You whined softly, squeezing your legs together, “Please, I want it.”

Mattheo stepped closer to you, causing you to widen your legs a bit. “Don’t go trying to pleasure yourself, Princess. Wait for your turn. Now, open your mouth.” You followed his directions quickly, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out.

Mattheo groaned at the sight of you being so obedient to him. He slapped his cock against your tongue before pushing his hips forward and jutting his cock into the warmth of your mouth. His body shivered at the moan you released from just having him in your mouth. “This is what you wanted, huh? For me to face fuck you in my shop? Am I making all those dirty little fantasies come true?”

Mattheo moved his hips at a faster pace, slamming in and out of your throat. Your eyes welled up with tears as saliva trailed down your chin and chest. Your mind was dazed as your core got hotter and hotter from the rough actions. Mattheo’s moans were enough to keep you riled up. “You look so fucking pretty, Princess. Choking on my dick, eyes filled with tears from pleasuring me. Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty.”

Your heart leaped at the praises. To make Mattheo feel good and use you in whichever way he wanted is what you desired this entire time. Your endless wet dreams and daydream fantasies were a reality. You felt Mattheo’s thrusts get sloppier and more reckless as he let out a string of curses. “I’m about to cum. I’m going to cum in this slutty fucking mouth of yours.”

He pulled your head closer to him as he released deep down your throat, ensuring that you didn’t waste a drop. He groaned softly, pulling out of your mouth to let you relax. He leaned over, grabbing your jaw to make you look at him. He gently wiped your tears and pulled you in to meet his lips. The kiss was passionate and feverish as he slipped his tongue past your lips. You moaned into it as you stood up, not breaking the kiss.

Mattheo kept one hand on your jaw as he wrapped his arm around your body to roughly palm your ass. He walked you backwards to the tattoo bench, causing you to instinctively jump up on it. Mattheo pulled only an inch away from your lips, mumbling softly to you, “You better stop me now, Princess. If this is something you don’t want….”

“I want it. I want it so bad, Matty. It’s all I’ve thought about since I’ve met you.” You reassure him, your hand reaching down to jerk him off slowly. “I want you. I need you, Mattheo.”

“Fuck, Princess.” Mattheo groaned, kissing you deeply before pushing you on your back and positioning you on the edge of the bench. He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder and wrapped the other one around his waist. Grabbing the shaft of his dick, he teased your folds before pushing his tip into you.

Whimpers fell from your mouth as Mattheo teased you with just his tip. “Matty…. please….”

“You’re so fucking hot when you beg for me.” Mattheo said, sinking into you. He groaned at the warmth and tightness. “So, fucking warm, Princess. Tell me when to go, baby.”

“G-go…. You can go.” You moaned, gripping the side of the bench. Mattheo didn’t waste time to thrust. His slow thrusts didn’t last long because, within seconds, he was pounding into you. Your moans drowned the creaks of the tattoo bench out. “Fuck, Mattheo, feels s’good.” You babbled; your eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

“You’re taking me so fucking well, Princess. Such a good fucking slut, letting me rail you on my tattoo bench.” Mattheo groaned, his hands reaching under your shirt to grope your boobs. “My pretty little slut, aren’t you?”

The touching, the thrusting, and the dirty talk were making your mind fuzzy. Pleasure taking over your body was making it impossible for your mind to string together any type of words. “I asked you a question, Princess, answer me,” Mattheo grunted, taking his hand from under your shirt and moving it to wrap around your throat while leaning forward to plunge deeper into you. You mewled at the feeling, your hand gripping his sides and clawing up his back.

“Y-yes! I’m…. I’m your p-pretty little slut.” You finally pushed out, “Fuck, Mattheo.”

Mattheo left wet kisses down your neck to your collarbone. “I’ve been wanting this for so long. To hear your pretty voice moan my name, to hear you beg for me to fuck you. You’re a fucking dream come true.”

Mattheo moved his hand from your neck to your clit, rubbing it as he continued to fuck you. You whimpered at the overstimulation. “I want you to cum all over my dick, Princess. Make a mess all over me and my tattoo bench.”

You moaned, feeling the growing knot in your stomach as you got closer to your climax. One more thrust from Mattheo had you whining and your legs shaking. Tears pricked your eyes once more as Mattheo kept thrusting and rubbing your clit. “I can’t- I can’t take no more, Matty.” You whined, looking up at him.

“Yes, you can. You can take more until I cum, baby girl. I’m almost there, I’m going to cum in this pretty pussy.” Mattheo said, “Gonna let me breed you, Princess? Fill you up with my seed?”

“Yes, please, cum in me. I want it, I want it so bad.” You babbled.

“Good fucking girl,” Mattheo mumbled, groaning as his thrusts became more erratic. He slammed into you once more, burying himself deep into you as he came in you. He pulled out slowly, grabbing your arm and pulling you up into his chest. “That was amazing, Princess. You’re amazing.” He whispered into your ear.

“Thank you.” You felt a blush rush to your face. “Guess I should go pay now, huh?”

Mattheo chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You think you’re paying after all that?”

“It’s only right that I pay you for your work.” You said, your eyes meeting his.

“Trust me, Princess, you’ve paid me with something way more valuable than money.” Mattheo smirked. “And now that’s all I want. I’ll tattoo anything on you for it.”

You blushed, laughing at him. Your heart raced at all the future possibilities with Mattheo.

Today was truly a dream come true.

#slytherin boys #mattheo riddle #fem reader #mattheoxreader #mattheo smut #slytherin #theodore nott #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #enzo berkshire #smut #mattheo riddle smut #harry potter #jayybugg fics

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eomayas · 2 years ago

Text

cream soda • bbh [req]

pairing: idol!baekhyun x MUA!reader

genre: smut 18+ MINORS DNI!!!! fluff

synopsis: reader is a makeup artist for exo and likes baekhyun in eyeshadow, and he notices

warnings: p in v, pwp (slow burn), teasing, fingering, pet names (baby & good girl), baekhyun being sexy in eyeshadow

a/n: i got 3 different smut requests for cream soda teaser #1 baekhyun 😭 so here you go i hope you all like it! thank you for the requests and support 🩷

his eyeshadow smudges easily due to your hands being shaky. you hope he doesn’t notice, but doubt that he does because he’s busy tapping away at his phone. you swallow and keep working the brush over his eye, blending out the dark colors to create a smoky eye.

you allow yourself to sneak glances at him while he’s preoccupied with his phone. every so often, you’ll glance at him through the mirror, pretending you’re fixing your own appearance but really you’re looking at him.

“okay,” you say, setting the brush down and leaning back from him. “i think i’m done.” you say. he looks up from his phone and gives you a smile. your stomach flips and you swallow thickly, glancing away from him for a brief moment.

“you think? how do i look?” he ask, leaning around you to examine himself in the mirror before settling back with his gaze on you. he looks sexy, edible, and if you had a different relationship, maybe you’d tell him so.

“you look nice, baekhyun,” you say, keeping your true thoughts and feelings to yourself. he smiles quizzically up at you, running a hand through his hair.

“just nice?” he’s playing with you now, you can see it in his features and hear it in his tone. your pulse quickens—he’s figured you out. was it that obvious? you don’t know—you feel caught, cornered. “cause i think i look good.” he adds, the emphasis on the word “good” making you let out a breath. so maybe he hadn’t caught you and figured you out. maybe your thoughts weren’t written across your forehead.

you nod curtly and step away from him, turning around to fix your station. “you do,” you say quietly. you hear baekhyun shift behind you, his presence looming over you. again, your stomach flips and you make the mistake of looking up into the mirror where he’s already looking at you, a smirk on his face.

“what was that?” baekhyun asks, a knowing look on his face. your cheeks burn and you snap the makeup box closed and sidestep away from him, putting a healthy gap of distance between the two of you.

“they’re waiting on you,” you say, not meeting his eye. luckily his name is shouted and he actually has to leave, so you’re able to slump against the counter and catch your breath. you’re always paired up with baekhyun for styling, and recently your interactions have gotten more and more…tense.

you don’t know if you should call it a crush because you’re both professionals, and your job would be on the line. but you’ve always had a thing for him and his silly, flirty ways. he’s always kind to you, asking how you’re doing and seeming truly interested. he’s been like this since you first started working as a makeup artist for exo, teasing and joking with you while you worked on his face. you were bound to catch feelings for him with the way you saw him constantly and the interactions you had.

after cleaning up your station, you assist anybody else who needs their makeup done. the rest of exo has always been kind as well, but you don’t have a similar relationship with them like you do with baekhyun. they’re all polite and professional, and don’t teeter too close to the edge of flirting under the guise of a joke with you.

when you finish helping out, you decide to walk around the set to busy yourself. baekhyun is still getting his photos taken, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you look over at him from afar. baekhyun is attractive, simply put. he’s confident and playful, but right now he’s flat out sexy.

you find yourself skulking over close to the shoot, standing a few feet behind the photographer. you watch baekhyun, unable to take your eyes off of him as he smizes at the camera. he captures the attention of everybody, the other staff members oohing and aahing him as he poses for the camera. if you had half a brain, you’d probably join in, but, professionalism.

you’re snapped out of your baekhyun daze when your name is yelled with authority. “y/n! we need touch ups!” you blink yourself back to reality, looking up and finding everybody looking at you, including baekhyun. he has a smirk on his face, and you feel heat creeping up your neck and face. you part your lips, ready to apologize, but nothing comes out. instead, you rush over to your station to retrieve your brushes.

sidling up to baekhyun, you examine his face, forcing your brain to be in work mode. he talks above your head to one of his members, twisting his head everywhere you don’t need him to be. “baekhyun, could you…” you trail off, biting your bottom lip. “baekhyun.” you say louder and as he turns to you, you catch his chin in your hand to steady his face to do your work.

baekhyuns eyes stay laser-focused on you. you swallow nervously and gently dab at his face, fixing whatever smudges he’s accrued ever since he started shooting. “your hands are shaking,” he murmurs, and you quickly let go of his chin, your grip on the powder press tightening between your fingers. “are you nervous?” he asks, leaning down a bit closer—too close. but legend has it that it makes it easier for you reach him.

“no,” you lie, gently tilting his head to the other side. you go to remove your hand from his jaw, but captures your wrist and keeps it there. your breath hitches in your throat, and you glance around the set to see if anybody is watching. “baekhyun, wh-what are you d-doing?” you stammer, frozen in place.

“helping you. this makes it easier, right? if i move?” he makes a dramatic example of pulling his face away from your hand and moving his head around wildly, before placing it back in your hold, and trying to move to show the differences.

he smiles at you, his cheek resting nicely in your palm. under different circumstances, you feel he might kiss. hell, you feel like he might still, with his close proximity and the way you catch his eyes flick down to your lips quickly.

you blink away your feelings and his gaze, and quickly finish up his face. “done,” you say, letting go of his face and taking a step back.

“do i still look nice?” he jokes, straightening and look down at you. you blush and glance away from him, nodding your head.

“yes, baekhyun, you do,” you say. he chuckles and shuffles away, going back to pose for the camera. you take one last look at him and sigh, your heart slamming against your ribcage.

you’re afforded a break, but before you leave to go out, you pick up your station again. you move slowly so you’ll have more time to yourself, organizing your brushes and foundations by color. you wipe up the counter with disinfecting wipes, even the chair, just to kill time.

picking up the box you keep your supplies in, you walk it over to the storage closet and take your time in there too. it doesn’t need to be organized by any means; any open space on the shelves will work, but you decide to arrange it next to the other staff members items, alphabetizing it properly.

a knock at the door makes you jump and you freeze for a second, praying it’s not your boss or one of the managers coming to yell at you for taking too long to go on your break. you gulp and gingerly step away from the shelf, grabbing the knob to open the door. to your relief, it’s not your boss. but to your surprise, it is baekhyun.

“yes?” you say, gripping onto the door for dear life. you look up at him with wide eyes, shock written all over your face. he smirks at you and you wish he would stop, because all day it’s made you feel things and now that he’s here, in a tiny closet with you and nobody else, you feel exposed.

“i just need some makeup wipes,” he says, leaning forward on his toes. you look up at him, slightly dumbfounded. he could have asked any other person on the set for those—they’re everywhere.

“oh, okay,” you say, turning around and grabbing your box. baekhyun steps inside the closet behind you and you glance at him over your shoulder when the door closes. you two lock eyes and you start to feel hot, chest and face burning now that you’re completely alone.

you clumsily open your makeup box and a few things spill out. “i got it,” he says when you start to bend down. you squeak out a ‘thanks’ and dig pull out the makeup wipes.

when you turn around, you’re met with his exposed chest and the necklaces that rest nicely on it. your feet stay rooted to the floor and eyes stuck on his clavicle, unable to move with how close he is. your chest moves up and down faster than you’d like, nearly touching his with the pace you’re breathing.

“here you go,” he says, his voice low and deeper than before. your eyes drag up his neck, up his jaw to his lip and nose, and finally to his eyes. your breath gets taken away with how he looks, especially with his dark eye makeup.

baekhyun wiggles the fallen brush in his hand, like he’s teasing you. you pluck it from his fingers, the brush shaking between your thumb and forefinger. you offer him the pack of makeup wipes in return, and place the brush back in it’s proper place.

your heartbeat rings in your ears. the tension is thick in the room, and you can’t turn back around to face him. you can barely handle him in public, and now that here’s here with you, alone, you’re not sure you’re going to last.

“y/n,” you feel him behind you, mere centimeters away. if you turn, you’ll bump into him—that’s how small this room is and how close he is to you. you audibly suck in a breath and wring your fingers together in front of you.

turning around, your shoulder comes in contact with his hard chest. he’s closer than ever, looming over you. his makeup is still on, but he holds a wipe in his hand. he extends it to you and you look down at it before meeting his eyes. “you want me to do it?” you ask. you’ve done it countless times before, but it’s different now, because he sought you out. and, again, you’re alone.

he nods. “yes,” he says. you take the makeup wipe and clutch it in your hand. you expect him to lean forward, but he doesn’t so you grab his face like you did before, your eyes roaming everywhere but his. “am i making you uncomfortable?” he asks as you start wiping one side of his face, saving the eyeshadow for last so you can bask in his sexiness for awhile longer.

“no,” you reply honestly.

“are you sure?” he asks.

you nod. “it’s not the word i would use to describe how i feel right now,” your voice is quiet, but he hears you perfectly. you feel him smirk underneath your palm and your stomach flips.

“no?” you shake your head. “what word would you use to describe how you’re feeling, then?” he asks. you slide your eyes to his, your hand stilling against the side of his face. his eyes urge you to respond, to tell him how you feel and you want to, you really do.

baekhyun drags his eyes down to your mouth and let’s them stay there for a moment, making it so obvious compared to earlier when you caught him. “baekhyun…” you say, your voice hoarse.

“that’s my name,” he mumbles, eyes back on yours. your lips part, unsure of what to say, or what’s really going on between the two of you. his face is mostly done, sans for his nose and his eye makeup. you close your mouth and get back to work, ignoring the storm happening in your head.

you let out a small sigh as you get to his eyes, barely rubbing off the makeup. “you like it,” he says matter-of-factly. you only nod and keep gently wiping away at his eyes.

“it looks nice,” you compliment. baekhyun softly grabs onto your elbow, halting your movements.

“then leave it on,” he says. you press your lips together and let your arm fall to your side, the other hand still resting on his cheek. he looks into your eyes deeply, and you manage to keep your eyes on him for the first time today. his eyes go back down to your mouth and he lets out a breath. “can i kiss you?” he asks and the question catches you so off guard that you take a step backwards, dropping your hand from his face.

“w-what?” you stutter. baekhyun sobers immediately straightening up and putting some distance between the two of you.

“y/n, im sorry. i didnt mean to make you uncomfortable—shit, fuck—i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to overstep,” he reaches for the handle and you panic. you didn’t step away from him because he made you uncomfortable, you were just shocked at his forwardness. he doesn’t know how badly you want him to kiss you.

“baekhyun, wait,” you say, grabbing his hand. the doorknob stills in his hand as he looks at you, at your hand holding onto his. “i’m not uncomfortable.” you say, looking into his eyes to emphasize that this really is okay. “i… you can kiss me. i want you to.” you say, swallowing the lump on your throat.

baekhyuns shoulders relax, rolling back. “are you sure?” he asks.

“yes.”

he closes the distance between you, taking your face between his hands. he looks down at you with an intense stare that has your knees getting weak. baekhyun strokes your cheek softly with his thumb before dipping his head down and pressing his sweet lips to yours.

you’re breathless again, your hands finding purchase on his forearms to hold yourself steady. he kisses you slowly, like he’s waiting for you to pull back at any second. you want more, so you skip your tongue into his mouth, baekhyun catching on quickly and letting go of your face to grab you by the waist and pull you closer.

your arms are around his neck, pulling him down closer to you. you can’t really believe that you’re kissing him—it feels surreal.

but you know it’s not when he groans against your lips. “you don’t know how long i’ve wanted to do this,” he says, biting your bottom lip, holding it between his teeth for a moment before letting it go and looking at you with dark eyes.

you’re unsure of how to respond; if you should be honest and tell him the same or play it cool. you decide to just kiss him, hoping he understands that you feel the same if you weren’t doing a good job at conveying it earlier.

you and baekhyun get caught in a weird space, his hands sliding up and down your body, groping your ass but never trying to do anything more than that. he keeps his lips on you, never trying to kiss your neck and you do the same. baekhyun is playing everything safe, offering you an out at every chance. a part of you wants to just tell him that he can do whatever he wants with you, to you, but the other wants to keep it in this space, to not complicate it. but you really can’t help yourself, not when you have him like this.

you move your lips from his mouth to his jaw and down his neck, kissing every inch of exposed skin that his open shirt gives you. you silently thank his stylists and whoever created this outfit.

you kiss down his chest, your hands moving to unbuckle the belt that holds his flimsy shirt together. you fumble with it for a moment before you manage to get it off, and baekhyun makes no move to help you. he likes seeing you eager and desperate for him, because he feels the exact same way.

his shirt falls open and you drag your hands down his chest, tracing your fingertips over the ridges of his abs. you drag your hands down lower, stopping at the waistband of his pants that rest an inch below his belly button. “what do you want to do, y/n?” he asks you, pulling your closer to him by your ass.

you only shrug. you’ll do anything. “whatever you want,” you say, meaning it. baekhyun pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and shakes his head slightly. he can’t believe this moment, you. and he doesn’t know what he wants more, you on your knees or him buried deep inside of you, watching you fall apart on him.

baekhyun reconnects your lips, this time kissing you with more want. his fingers work quickly to unbutton your pants and shove his hand down the front of you, pressing his fingers against your clothed core. wetness coats the center and his chest swells with pride when your lips part to let out a gasp when he starts rubbing the material into you.

he kisses on your neck and pushes your pants down farther so he can have more access to you. pushing your panties to the side, baekhyun slips two fingers between your folds and you widen your stance, desperate for his touch. a quiet groan leaves your lips when he slides his fingers into your soaking core, your gummy walls inviting him in easily.

you pant as he works his fingers into you. your hands hold onto his shoulders and you lurch forward when he adds another finger into the mix, his thumb rubbing on your clit as hell. “baek- shh,” he says lowly, kissing your lips to keep your quiet. your clench around his fingers and moan against his mouth. “keep quiet, baby. don’t want to get caught, do you?” the use of the pet name makes you whimper and baekhyun narrows his eyes at you.

“s-sorry,” you squeak, putting one of your own hands against your mouth to quiet yourself. your strain, but it’s muffled enough for baekhyuns satisfaction and he keeps working his fingers in and out of you. he rubs at your clit and that familiar knot in the pit of your stomach tightens. your grab onto his shoulder tighter, hoping he understands that you’re close to reaching your climax.

you squeeze his fingers and baekhyun nips at your neck. “you’re close, aren’t you, baby? are you gonna cum for me? all over my fingers?” he mumbles in your ear, gently biting your earlobe. his voice and his words, and the fact that he keeps calling you baby are enough to send you over the edge, squeezing your eyes shut as you release all over his fingers. “that’s right, just like that. good girl.” you don’t like to imagine how pathetic you look when you throw yourself around him, resting your face in his shoulder and gently biting him to quiet yourself.

baekhyun pulls his fingers out of you and you sigh at the loss of contact. you manage to stand up on your shaky legs, holding onto one of the shelves for support. he starts to unbutton his pants but sops himself to look up at you. “i’m on birth control. and i’m clean,” you say quickly and he gives you a small smile.

“good to know, and so am i,” he says, pulling down his pants. you can’t help but gawk at the bulge in his underwear, your mouth falling open at the sheer size. you hastily step out of your pants and panties, kicking them over to the side when he’s undressed as well.

baekhyun pushes you into the wall at the back of the closet and hikes one of your legs around his hip. he lines himself himself up with you and pushes himself in, your arousal working as a lubricant and easily letting him slip inside.

you mewl out his name and he clamps a hand over your mouth. “i need you to be quiet for me,” he says, starting to thrust into you. “can you do that for me, baby? fuck.” baekhyun drives his hips into you and buried his face into the crook of your neck to muffle his own moans. unlike you, he’s more successful at keeping quiet.

all to be heard is deep breathing and skin on skin. you pray it’s not loud enough to be heard through the door, for somebody could walk in on baekhyun balls deep inside of you.

you bite down on baekhyuns palm and he pulls his hand back to shove his fingers into your mouth instead, forcing you to suck on them while he slams into you. you look at him with wide eyes and he curses, tossing his head back and hiking your leg up higher to get a slightly different angle.

his fucks into you relentlessly, chasing his own release and trying to get you to your second. you’re losing it on top of him, spit all around his fingers and some on your chin. his dark eyes look down at you and you keen at him, wanting so badly to have his lips on you again. but he can’t risk you being loud, and you can’t hold it back.

“shit, baby, i’m close. are you?” you nod and he grunts as he speeds up his thrusts. you bring a hand down to your messy core and rub at your sensitive clit, more spit leaking out of your mouth as you moan at the overwhelming feeling. “fuckfuckfuckfuck-“ baekhyun clenches his jaw as he releases into you.

he fills you up, ropes of his cum coating your insides as he stays buried in you. “fuck, you took me so well, baby,” you cum shortly after him, your arousal mixed with his own dripping down your legs. baekhyun pants and drops your leg from around his hip and you stumble, catching yourself on a shelf. “shit, you alright? can you walk?” he asks, pulling his fingers out of your mouth and then removing himself from inside of you.

“i dont know,” you whine, wanting more of him. but you both know it’s time to go back out. your break is probably almost up anyway, and you still need to eat.

baekhyun finds paper towels and cleans you up. you keep your eyes on him as he wipes in between your thighs. you almost sigh at the beautiful sight before you; his soft brown eyes a dark contrast to the dark eye makeup that’s still mainly intact. his hands and gentle beneath you and you wonder if this will last, or if after this moment you two will go back to what you had before, before this moment. or worse, if it’ll be like nothing ever happened; not this moment, or anything that came before it.

as if he can hear your thoughts, he looks up at you and gives you a small smile. he places a soft kiss on your lips and you hold him close for an extra beat. “that was fun,” he says, and just like that he’s back to being himself, not the same man that just stuck his fingers in your mouth and fucked you silly.

you nod, a small smile on your face to match his own. “we should do it again,” he says, picking up your clothes and handing them to you. it’s a silly thing to smile about, but you can’t help it. if this is how you see him again, outside of work, then fine. you’ll take what you can get.

“okay,” you say, stepping into your underwear and pants. baekhyun quickly redresses and waits for you by the door. you look up and see him holding the belt that goes around his shirt, in his hands. it’s not your job, but you take it from him and help him anyway because you would if you were out on the set right now.

“what are you doing later?” he asks as you fasten the belt around his torso. you, i hope, you think. but you just shrug and look up at him. he smiles and places a hand on your cheek. “i’ll pick you up at seven, then.”

and that’s how you get your first date with byun baekhyun.

#exo imagines #exo scenarios #exo x reader #exo x you #exo smut #baekhyun x you #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun oneshot #baekhyun smut #baekhyun imagine

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jpitha · 5 months ago

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Allergies

This is a rewrite of one of my oldest shorts. As a writer - especially one who posts online - never worry about redoing some old work and posting the new one. Artists often will show their old work against their new right? No reason writers can't do the same either. Be proud of all your work, but feel free to show your improvement too!

The small station was in a popular shipping lane, so it had high amounts of traffic. Even though the humans had brought their wormhole generator drives, many people were still used to using the Gate system. Retrofitting every starship would be too costly, take too much time, and (some worried) would shift the power balance towards the humans too much. One didn't have to be human to be set in one's ways.

Because of the high amounts of traffic, most of the people on the station worked in the service industry. Providing meals, entertainment, refreshments, repairs and other such things, the population was quite diverse. In their off hours, they mingled and socialized.

Generi stood there awkwardly, still wearing the uniform of the trinket shop he worked in, his tail drooped and his ears low, trying to make sense of it. “Explain allergies to me one more time?”

Meg sniffed and wiped her eyes, but she smiled softly. She was sitting at a table in the resident's lounge. At her feet was a bouquet of flowers “Our bodies have this compound, called histamine. It's released in response to an attack - an internal attack - on our bodies. It's meant to help our bodies expel an invader. You know about itching? I've seen K'laxi do it. It's one of the regulators of our itching response. Mind, you, Histamine does way more than that, but we're talking about allergies right now."

"Wait, what do you mean by attack?" One of his ears perked up. This went from embarrassing to interesting very quckly.

"I know you have bacteria Generi, I also know your bodies digest food for energy. What happens when you get an infection?" Meg said, raising an eyebrow. Her sniffles and tears had subsided now that the bouquet was away from her face.

"Oh, I've never heard it called an 'attack.' Uh, our body temperature lowers, and we go into a kind of torpor. We lay down somewhere safe and stay still. Since the bacteria only can thrive in a narrow range of temperatures our bodies cool until our immune systems can take care of it." Generi puts his paw on the chair opposite Meg and looks at her, questioningly. She nods and he takes a seat.

"Really? Cools? But wouldn't that have put your ancestors at risk for predation- wait you didn't have predators, you were apex in your niche, weren't you?"

"I'm... not really sure. I'm not an anthropologist."

"Me neither, but I think I remember reading something like that. Our bodies are different. They raise their temperature to fight infections. It's more dangerous than your torpor because we can... well, die from it." Meg shrugs. "It doesn't happen too much anymore, but it used to be more of a thing."

"That sounds like a human, yes. In a race between killing your infection and killing yourself." Generi's tail flicks - a grin.

"We're getting off topic." Meg gestures towards the flowers, "in the case of an allergic reaction, our bodies call for histamine to be released when a harmless-" She glanced over and saw Generi's face "Fine, harmless - for us - substance enters our body, but we treat it like an invader."

"And this happens to everyone?" Generi was amazed at this impromptu biology lesson. It certainly seemed like humans were nearly constantly at war with something. Their own bodies, themselves, their neighbors, no wonder they were so good at it.

"No, not everyone, but a lot of people. It's fairly common. Anyway, in some people the body overreacts to the substance and produces histamine which causes the allergic reaction. Sneezing, runny nose, itchy eyes and body, congestion, things like that."

Generi flicked his ears and nodded, combing the two species gestures for assent. "Okay, I understand now. So the flowers...."

"Yes, I'm allergic to Roses." Meg blew her nose.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Generi was despondent. "I read about giving humans flowers as a sign of affection and I...I wanted..."

"Oh, I understand the intent Generi, I'm touched, really!" Meg reached over and patted his paw. She noticed his fur rise just a little bit. "I'm just allergic to Roses. Next time, try a different flower." She stood. "Wherever did you get them?"

"One of the humans over in Little Earth is growing them. He has a whole garden." He voice was filled with wonder.

"I had no idea. I can't believe the station authorities allowed it, some human plants are downright... prolific." Meg stared at Generi for a second. "How about you take me down to see them? I'll take an allergy pill first, and we can look at them together before it's shut down and it has to all go into the incinerator."

"You mean, like a date?" Generi's ears stood straight up, and his fur rippled once.

Meg started to laugh but held it back so as to not hurt his feelings. "Sure, just like a date. It'll be fun."

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are fun #sci fi writing #writing #jpitha #humans and aliens #humans are space capybaras

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daydreams-after-dark · 8 months ago

Note

can we talk about a sub police officer han >.> like with a criminal reader because i know we all saw how he held that toy gun in skz code 😭

I read this ask before I watched skz code… then I saw it and I knew what you meant. He’s such a darling boy. I love him. I want him to do bad things to me. Even if he does it awkwardly, he gets the job done.

🥰🥰🥰 I’m so excited actually, because I have quite a few #policeofficerskz asks and the concepts are so scrumptious. I can barely contain myself.

Anyways… here is what came to mind for your ask. I love you and hope you enjoy 😘🥰

CW: coercion, unprotected p in v sex, cream pie, sex in a semi public place, nudity.

🚨🚨🚨🚨

Since your arrest earlier that day you have been scoping out the police officers at the station. Watching through the bars of the cell, narrowing down which one would be your ticket to freedom.

Really, you shouldn’t have even been arrested. You were set up. Okay, fine. You’re a con artist. But you wouldn’t have been arrested if you hadn’t been snitched on by some undercover officer. Thanks Officer Kim.

As you analyse each of the police officers in the station, the one who seems to catch your eye the most is Officer Han. He appears gentle, quiet, easily persuaded, kind of awkward. You can work with that. Plus, he is kind of cute. Bonus.

And what do you know, Officer Han is on night duty at the station tonight. Alone. You watch him through the bars as he drinks instant coffee and works at his computer.

The lights are low in the station. It’s quiet too, apart from the clacking of his keyboard.

He yawns and leans back in his chair, closing his eyes for a long moment. Poor baby’s tired. When he opens them his eyes land on yours.

He swallows nervously. You know he’s feeling vulnerable having you watch him. This is perfect.

You tilt your head and part your lips seductively, and his eyes blink rapidly before returning his attention to his computer screen.

“Officer?” you say coyly.

His eyes snap up to meet yours again.

"I need your help. You see I'm innocent. This was all a set up. Your officer Kim is corrupt. He stitched me up." Your bottom lip wobbles.

Han sighs loudly, like he wishes you would just stay quiet so he doesn't have to do anything. Maybe he'll just ignore you.

Or maybe not.

Officer Han stands and with his head down, he quietly walks towards the cell. He stops once he's in front of you, but doesn't look up.

"Look, it's not up to me...I'm just babysitting the station. I wasn't the arresting officer. There's nothing I can do." he says and makes to walk away.

Your hand reaches through the bars and grasps his arm. He stills, looking down at where your hand is wrapped around his forearm, and swallows hard.

"Please. Can you at least keep me company. I'm scared. I'm cold." You say in a small voice.

He looks up at you, a bewildered expression on his face.

"Please?" You let your eyes well up as you give him your best "pleading" eyes.

He shakes his head regretfully. "I-I shouldn't. It's against protocol." he whispers. You squeeze his arm a little harder and he whimpers. You've almost got him.

He lets out a shaky breath. "J-just wait here. I'll get you a cup of hot chocolate and a blanket." he concedes.

"I'm not going anywhere, Officer." You purr and release his arm.

You watch him through the bars as he fumbles about making a hot drink and finding another blanket, before returning to the cell and producing a key.

You smirk and go sit on the roll out mat in the far corner of the cell. You must look non-threatening for your plan to work. He enters the cell cautiously and stands in the middle of the area like he doesn't know what to do.

"Come sit." You pat the mat next you. He looks back awkwardly to where his desk is. "I won't bite." you raise and eyebrow.

"O-okay. O-only for a second... " he stutters.

Only for a second? You know how that always ends.

"Here's a blanket, he hands you the tatty fabric. "and your hot chocolate." he gives you the paper cup and sits down next to you and looks at his feet.

"Officer Han. That is your name isn't it?" you place the cup down in the corner, and turn to him. He is very attractive close up.

He nods. "Yes."

"And how long have you been a police officer?" you reach out and draw a circle on his knee with your index finger.

"Um... six months." he says shakily as he watches your finger work its way up his thigh.

"Hmm. Just a baby, huh?" you lick you lips as you watch him tremble.

"M'not a baby." he narrows his eyebrows and glares at you, but quickly looks away.

"No. I was only joking." You bring your hand up to stroke his cheek. "I bet you're very good at doing grown up things."

Officer Han gulps. "I am." he chokes.

"Wanna show me?" You grab his chin, forcing him to look at you. "I need you to show me what grown up things you can do. Can you? Can you do that for me?"

"I-I'm not sure what you mean, Miss?" he says innocently.

"Sure you do. I'm cold." You press yourself up against his side. "I'm thirsty." You ghost your lips over his cheek. "I'm starving." You whisper against his ear. "Need you to warm me up." You nibble his ear lobe. "Need you to fill me up."

"Fuck." he whimpers.

"That's exactly what I need you to show me."

“Huh?” He looks at you wide eyed. His eyes dart around the cell.

You slowly straddle his lap and begin to grind down on him. He's hard in his trousers, and from what you can tell, he's going to fill you just right.

“Miss. We can’t.” He protests in a small voice.

“Don’t you want to touch me, Officer?” You unbutton your blouse, revealing the swell of your breasts and your push up bra. “Go on. Touch them.” You say sternly.

Cautiously, he brings his shaking hands up and rests them on the bulge of your breasts. His mouth hangs open as he squeezes them slightly.

“Mmm, you like them don’t you, Officer?”

He nods.

“Yeah? I bet Officer Han would like to know what my pussy feels like too? Wouldn’t he?” You purr and take him in a ravenous kiss.

He squeaks in response and you smile against his mouth. “I need to you take your clothes off, Officer. I don’t want any part of you hiding from me. I need to see all of you.” You lean in close your his ear “I promise I’ll take all mine off too. You wanna see me naked don’t you?”

Again, Han nods frantically, and undresses so quickly you're not sure if it's pathetic or endearing. Either way, your cunt pulses when you see his bare form. Strong. Toned. Mouthwatering cock.

“I’m naked. Now what? What do you need me to do?” He says desperately, taking in your naked body too.

“Well.” You say laying down on the blanket. “You can start by warming me up.” You part your legs, presenting your pussy to the police officer. "With your mouth."

He’s between your legs, pushing them wide, slurping at your pussy like he hasn’t had a drink in ten hours.

“Oh fuck yes! Officer. Fuck, you do know how to do grown up things!” You cry as he suckles on your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Fingers! Fingers!” You demand, your breath heavy. He pushes two fingers into your cunt while he continues to give your clit attention.

“Yes! Harder!” You thread your fingers through his hair and pull him against your core while you grind your hips against his face.

You’re going to come at any second, but you know that you want to come on his cock.

“Lie on your back, Officer. You deserve to relax after such a hard days work.” You wriggle out from his grasp. The obedient officer does exactly what you ask and he’s on his back, cock heavy and leaking again his stomach. “Time for me to show you what a good girl I am.” You say as you straddle him.

You take your time. Teasing him by sliding along the length of his cock. Getting it soaking wet.

“Please.” He whispers.

“What is it Officer? What do you need?” you coo.

“Don’t tease me.” He sobs.

You lift off of him to line his cock up with your entrance and slowly lower yourself over his length. “Am I being a good girl?” You bite your lip as you encompass him completely.

You continue to ride him slow. He feels so hard inside you and you think if you went any faster he’d blow almost immediately. You want to exhaust the boy.

You build him up, pushing him to the edge, only to ease off. Several times you repeat the process. Officer Han is a wreck underneath you. Sobbing for you to let him come.

“Shh. It’s okay, Officer.” You reassure him as you reach down and play with your clit. You close your eyes and allow an orgasm to wash over you, clenching your walls around his cock.

“Fuck!!!” He cries and you rock your hips to take him over the edge. He comes so hard, and so deep, inside you.

Officer Han pants and trembles underneath you. But you’re not finished with him.

No.

You climb off him and immediately take his cock in your mouth. He protests. He’s so sensitive. Your mouth is too much. But you don’t care. His little cries and pretty moans make you just want to overstimulate even more.

You suck him until he’s hard, then milk him dry. Four more times. All the while he begs you to both “stop, too much”, and “fuck please, let me come!” You ride him two more times too, because he feels too good in your tight little cunt.

Eventually he is so exhausted that he passes out. Mouth agape with a little bit of drool on his chin. Or maybe that was your wetness?

It's almost a shame that you're never going to see him again. He'd probably make a great boyfriend.

🚨🚨🚨🚨

“Officer Han! What happened?”

“Oh dear. This isn’t good.”

“Someone had a rough night?”

“Someone’s going to have a lot of explaining to do.”

Voices wake Officer Han from his sleep. He blinks his eyes open to find its morning. Where the fuck is he? He sits up panicking.

Oh fuck!

He looks around the empty cell, then down at his naked body. Where the fuck are his clothes!? He scrambles around, trying to locate his uniform. But they’re gone.

The other officers laugh and taunt him as he resorts to wrapping the blanket around his waist and tugging at the cell door.

Locked.

“Officer Han.” A stern voice cuts through the jaunts and laughter, and a short, blond man pushes through the throng of officers that have gathered in front of the cell.

Han gulps. “Chief! I can explain.”

Read unrelated fic ot8 frees use jail cell

Read unrelated fic good cop /bad cop Han / Lee know

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @wolfennracha @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @kyunchoni @justforreaders @melochacco

#han jisung smut #Skz smut #Han Jisung x reader #han jisung imagines

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stylesonfilms · 1 month ago

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ink & innocence - 1

word count: 2.3k

"Alright, just keep that wrapped for two days, come back if anything happens."

The rolling of the wheels from the artist's stool echoed through the tattoo shop, blending with the buzz of tattoo guns that hummed like restless bees. The air smelled of antiseptic, ink, and faint traces of burnt coffee from the pot someone had forgotten to turn off hours ago. Overhead, the muted bass of a playlist filtered through the JBL speakers mounted in each corner, punctuated occasionally by laughter and chatter between clients and artists. The ambiance was a chaotic symphony that Harry had long since learned to tune out.

Harry peeled the black nitrile gloves from his large hands with practiced precision, the snap of the material barely audible over the noise. He rolled them into a ball and tossed them into the trash, landing the shot effortlessly. His gaze flicked toward the apprentice, a wiry kid with a head full of bleached hair, leaning against the counter scrolling his phone.

"Ni, clean the station f'me. I'll be back soon." His deep voice cut through the din without needing to rise above it.

The apprentice straightened up, muttering something about being a glorified janitor as Harry gave the chair he'd been working on a nudge with his boot, spinning it back into place. Without another word, Harry strode toward the sink, his boots hitting the tile floor in a deliberate rhythm. He let the water run cold before scrubbing his hands, chasing away the slick latex residue.

His reflection in the mirror above the sink was familiar but worn—sharp jawline framed by the untamed curls that hung loosely around his face, the strands darkened slightly with sweat from the hours spent leaning over intricate linework. He rubbed at his temples briefly before shaking it off.

Making his way to the back office, Harry pushed open the door, the hinges creaking softly in protest. The heavy oak door clicked shut behind him, muffling the noise of the shop to a dull roar. The office was modest, functional, and distinctly his. The centerpiece was a battered brown leather sofa that sagged in the middle, where he now sank down with a groan. Papers, receipts, and appointment schedules spilled across the coffee table in organized chaos, the remnants of his latest battle with the bureaucracy of running a business.

Reaching into his pocket, he fished out a dark green bandana, shaking it out before tying it around his head with a double knot. It was one of many he kept stashed in his bag, a small but vital part of his routine to keep his unruly curls out of his face. His hands fell into his lap for a moment, and a long, tired sigh slipped past his lips, echoing softly in the quiet room.

It had been one hell of a week. Four nights in a row staying late to fix problems that shouldn't have existed in the first place. Lease renewals that felt endless, payroll corrections that had him cursing under his breath, and a scheduling disaster courtesy of Zayn.

Zayn, with his smooth charm and infuriating nonchalance, had somehow managed to book clients on top of each other during the week Harry had taken off to recover from a nasty head cold. Zayn claimed innocence, of course, insisting it was a system error or that Niall had gotten confused while updating the calendar. Harry wasn't buying it. Now the mess had landed squarely on his shoulders—because that's what being the owner of Black Rose Studios meant.

His green eyes scanned the pile of paperwork on the table, mentally categorizing it into priorities. At least this was the last stack for now. The rest could wait until Monday morning. Out in the shop, the low hum of voices filtered through the walls. He could hear Zayn's distinctive laugh cutting through the chatter, no doubt schmoozing some poor client or persuading Niall to cover for him again.

Harry had told them to finish up with the last three appointments for the night. Naturally, they'd whined about it, angling for an early out to make it to Zayn's party. A party Zayn had been hyping all week, complete with endless mentions of Isobel's new roommate—someone Zayn seemed convinced Harry needed to meet.

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, pen in hand as he began scrawling his signature on a stack of lease agreements. The repetitive motion of signing his initials—HS, HS, HS—offered a small reprieve from the chaos.

Knock, knock.

The sharp raps at the door didn't slow him. He flipped a page and continued signing, barely glancing up. "Yeah?"

The sound of a chip bag crinkling made his jaw tighten. A second later, the telltale pop of the bag opening reached his ears, followed by the unmistakable cascade of crumbs hitting the floor.

"You should really come tonight, man." Zayn's voice was muffled as he spoke around a mouthful of chips. The door creaked open, and without waiting for an invitation, Zayn sauntered in and flopped down beside Harry on the sagging sofa.

"Didn't I leave you with clients?" Harry muttered, his pen not pausing for a second.

Zayn shrugged nonchalantly, the rustle of his leather jacket loud in the small space. "Niall's got it. They're fine." He waved a hand as if to dismiss the idea of responsibility entirely, reaching into the chip bag for another handful.

Harry finally looked up, shooting him a withering glare. "You're supposed to be working, not shoving crisps down your throat in my office."

Zayn smirked, unfazed. "Come on, you've been cooped up in here all week. You need to get out. Isobel's bringing her new roommate tonight— she's—"

"No," Harry cut him off, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Zayn sighed dramatically but pressed on, his brown eyes gleaming with mischief. "Her name's Aspen, and she's not stuck up. She's just... quiet. But in a cute way, y'know? Like, mysterious."

Harry scoffed, setting his pen down with a snap. "Yeah, no thanks. I'm not interested in some preppy girl with rich parents and a superiority complex."

Zayn rolled his eyes. "You don't even know her. And for the record, she's not preppy. She's cool. Just... Come out, man. When's the last time you let loose?"

Harry didn't respond immediately, his mind flicking back to the last party he attended—Louis' place, over the summer. That felt like a lifetime ago now. The thought of alcohol and music made him feel... tired. Still, Zayn's relentless nagging was wearing him down.

"Fine," he said at last, stuffing the paperwork into a folder and slapping a sticky note on top. "But if she's annoying, I'm leaving."

Zayn grinned triumphantly, crumbs scattering onto the couch as he stood up. "You won't regret it."

As he left, Harry glanced at the discarded chip bag on the table. With a muttered curse, he crumpled it and tossed it into the trash, shouting after Zayn, "Clean up after yourself next time!"

The muffled sound of Zayn's laughter was his only reply.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Aspen tugged the brush through her hair, wincing as it snagged on a stubborn curl. The faint scent of lavender conditioner lingered, a remnant from her earlier shower, mixing with the vanilla candle Isobel had lit hours ago in their small on-campus apartment. The gentle flicker of the candlelight reflected in the bathroom mirror, softening the sharp angles of Aspen's face as she worked her way through the tangled strands.

Her class had let out early that afternoon, an unexpected reprieve that she'd intended to spend buried in a book or curled up in bed with her favorite playlist humming through her headphones. But Isobel had other plans. Aspen's roommate had appeared in the doorway of her room with a pleading expression, hands clasped dramatically in front of her.

"You have to come with me tonight, Asp. Please. Zayn's throwing a party— it's lowkey, I swear!"

The term had finally come to an end-- her final exams all submitted and completed and she hated to sound cocky but she new she passed for sure. Her current GPA of a perfect 4.0 remained untouched for as long as she could remember. It was never a bribing point for her, though. Her grades were only so good because she had nothing to distract herself with. Parties never excited her and the boys she found interest in, she would never do anything about. And she surely was never approached by any of them either. Although she was sure that if she had been, she would be too shy to do anything anyways.

Aspen had protested at first, of course. She always did. Parties were foreign territory, a world she'd deliberately avoided ever since starting college. Growing up, she had made a silent pact with herself— and her parents— that she would stay focused. No distractions. No wild nights that might lead to messy mornings. It wasn't like she judged people who partied; it just wasn't her scene.

But Isobel's persistence was as predictable as it was relentless. And now here she was, smoothing down her freshly brushed curls, her reflection in the mirror staring back at her with a mixture of resignation and anxiety.

"It's just a get-together, right?" Aspen asked, her voice tentative as she glanced at Isobel's reflection beside her.

Isobel's silence was answer enough.

"Iz..." Aspen turned slowly, setting the brush down with an exasperated sigh.

"Yes! Yes, okay, it's just a small get-together," Isobel said quickly, her words tumbling over one another in her rush to reassure. "It's just Zayn, a few of his friends from the shop, and maybe a couple others. Nothing crazy. No keg stands, no beer pong, nothing like that." She paused, gauging Aspen's reaction before adding, "And you don't have to drink! I already told Zayn to have soda and juice out."

Aspen wrinkled her nose. "Juice? Seriously? Iz, I'm not five."

Isobel snorted, pointing at her with the end of her eyeshadow brush. "Okay, but the mere mention of alcohol makes you do that weird cringy thing with your face, so maybe juice is a good option."

As if on cue, Aspen cringed again, her nose scrunching involuntarily. She turned back to the mirror, muttering under her breath as she picked up her blush brush.

Makeup had never been a big part of Aspen's routine, but she couldn't deny the satisfaction of it. There was something oddly soothing about the soft swirls of powder on her cheeks or the precise swipe of mascara on her lashes. Tonight, however, she was feeling daring—or as daring as Aspen could feel. She picked up a black liquid liner, carefully dragging the felt tip along the edge of her eyelid.

The result wasn't perfect, but it wasn't terrible either. She stepped back to admire her handiwork just as Isobel appeared behind her, clapping her hands in delight.

"Oh my God! Aspen, you look amazing! That wing is perfect— I mean, it's practically professional."

Aspen blushed under the praise, ducking her head slightly. "It's not that great," she murmured, though a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

Her mood, however, soured slightly as her mind wandered about who would be there, the thought of someone new being at the party. Aspen had met Zayn before— he was charming in that effortless, slightly intimidating way—but the idea of meeting more of his friends made her stomach churn. She had heard bits and pieces about them: Niall, who apparently had the sense of humor of a stand-up comedian; Louis, a former coworker of Zayn's with a penchant for mischief. And then there was Harry.

The mere thought of Harry sent a jolt of nervous energy through her. Tattoos. Piercings. Owner of a tattoo shop. She could already feel the intimidating aura he would inevitably exude. Aspen had never been good at talking to guys, especially not ones like that.

She would be doomed if she even tried to squeak a word to him. Isobel of course played into the playful banter earlier when she was begging for Aspen to come.

"I'm not talking to him," she said firmly, more to herself than to Isobel.

Isobel, rummaging through her closet in search of the perfect outfit, barely glanced over her shoulder. "What was that?"

"I said I'm not talking to him," Aspen repeated, louder this time. "I'll go to the party, but I'm not—no way. Not happening."

Isobel smirked, tossing a shirt over her shoulder. "Who said you have to talk to him? Maybe he'll think you're hot and talk to you."

Aspen gasped, her face heating up. "God, no! Shut up!"

Isobel only laughed, her amusement growing when one of her discarded shirts landed squarely on Aspen's face. Aspen pulled it off with a huff, shaking her head as she returned to the bathroom.

By the time she finished her makeup and spritzed herself with her favorite cherry vanilla perfume, the nervous knot in her stomach had only grown tighter. She stepped back to examine her outfit in the mirror: a deep red ribbed long-sleeve top with a square neckline that hugged her frame, paired with a justtt long enough denim skirt and sheer black tights. Her boots added a bit of edge to the otherwise sweet ensemble, and the white satin bow in her hair tied it all together in it's half up-half down style. On her neck, a beautiful 'A' necklace that Isobel got her after their first year of living together and her ears had small silver hoops in them.

She tugged at the hem of her skirt nervously, turning to Isobel. "Is it too much?"

Isobel turned to look, her eyes widening in mock awe. "You look incredible, Aspen. Seriously. If you don't get at least ten compliments tonight, I'll be shocked."

Aspen laughed despite herself, grabbing a leather jacket from Isobel's closet. The coat was heavier than she needed, but it gave her a sense of security. She slung it into the crook of her arm as they headed out the door. Zayn didn't live too far from them, but Isobel insisted on taking an Uber because she wanted to dress up and it certainly didn't fit the weather outside.

The Uber ride was short but felt interminable. Aspen stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past, her hands fidgeting with the zipper of her jacket. Her nerves buzzed like static, but she told herself this was for Isobel. Just one night. She could survive one night.

And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be as bad as she feared.

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