#fine line tattoo shops near me

[lumiatattoo]

Tattoo Shop Miami | Best Tattoo Ideas Gallery Miami - Lumia Tattoo Gallery

At Lumia Tattoo Studio, we take pride in our carefully selected team of skilled tattoo artists, who are dedicated to providing a one-of-a-kind tattoo experience. Their expertise spans various styles, ensuring we can bring any design or concept to life. Whether you desire a small, subtle tattoo or a full-sleeve masterpiece, our team has the knowledge and artistry to exceed your expectations.

[agreeewrites]

HI ALLIE CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR 1000 FOLLOWERS I THINK ABSOLUTELY DESERVED BECAUSE YOUR WORK IS INCREDIBLE YOU ATE THAT UP SLAYYYYYYYYYYYYY

I............ I have never submitted a request, unless I was explicitly asked by the writer because ksjdjdjjjsjsj ME ASKING FOR SOMETHING?????? SNSJSJSJ ANYWAY I was like it should be fine because it's for your celebration SOOO hear me out. Remus Lupin ? IM GOING THRU A REMUS THING ? 1000 scars/1000 glances???? WHICHEVER IS FINE YOURE GONNA EAT WITH THAT

WEE OK BYE I LOVE YOU BYE

xxx

ilysm and I hope this only deepens your Remus fixation 🫶🏻 thank you so much for all of your love and support, I genuinely get excited when I see you pop up in my feed or notifs. my favorite hanni 🤍

1000 inked scars | R.L.

feat. Remus Lupin x tattooartist!reader

cw: mdni 18+, possessive!Remus, marking kink, oral (fem receiving), tattoo needles and tattooing, mentions of injury and scars, probably inaccurate representation of tattooing in the 70's, no war

masterlist

“Quit squirming or I’m going to turn this constellation into a penis,” you griped, lifting your machine from Sirius’ leg.

“Maybe if you didn’t handle that gun like a cudgel—”

You slapped his fresh tattoo and he yelped. “Pull yourself together, Black. You’re almost done.”

He groaned, slumping back onto the table with his arms slung over his head. “Sadist,” he hissed.

You resumed your tattooing, packing black ink to the map of stars. “Said the masochist that paid me to stab him a million times.”

He glanced down at you. “Are you flirting with me?”

You glared up at him.

Just then, the bell on the front door of you shop chimed. A tall man with sandy hair, dressed in jeans and thick sweater stood in the foyer, looking around at the art and plants strewn about. Given your profession, you immediately noticed his lack of tattoos, and the scars marring his hands and neck, one even stretching from his sharp jaw towards his nose.

“Moony!” Sirius called, jerking his leg and nearly inking himself.

“Sirius,” you bit, but he was already out of the chair.

“What’s—uh, what’s up, Pads?” the stranger, Moony?, said, glancing down at Sirius’ rolled up pant leg and the nearly finished tattoo on his calf. Then, his eyes flicked to you, a deep brown and sallow with exhaustion, but his beauty struck you like a blow, the lines of his face coalescing in a way that would make the great painters weep.

Based on the countless stories Sirius had told you in the hours spent on your table, you surmised that this was Remus Lupin, his level-headed, long-suffering schoolmate.

“I wanted you to meet my friend!” Sirius grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him towards your station.

You sighed and set your machine aside. Clearly, you were taking a break.

“Remus, this is y/n, the architect of my beauty,” Sirius said, gesturing grandly in your direction.

You slid off one of your gloves and extended a hand to Remus. “Pleasure. I’ve heard loads about you.”

“Oh?” Remus asked, shaking your hand with a light touch, his skin warm and a bit rough. “Terrible things, I wager?”

“The worst,” you chuckled, and the corner of his mouth twitched up into a half-smile.

“Well, then there’s no where to go but up,” he said with a cheeky wink, and your heart damn near leaped out of your mouth.

“I asked Moony to come hang out for the last bit of the tattoo so he could pick your brain,” Sirius said, hopping back up onto the table.

“Sirius—”

“Pick my brain about what?” You asked, pulling up a chair for Remus and sitting back onto your stool, putting on a fresh pair of gloves.

“I, uh—”

“Moony wants to know if you can tattoo over scars,” Sirius said, earning a glare from Remus.

“Absolutely!” you chirped, hoping to dispel Remus’ clear discomfort. “Just takes a few extra passes, but it shouldn’t be an issue.”

Remus gave you a small, grateful smile. “Really?”

“Really. I’ve tattooed over dozens of scars, cover-ups, or decorations. I’d love to work with you.” Merlin, did you just say that out loud? You needed to get it together; you were a professional.

“See, Moons? I told you!” Sirius propped his leg back up, and you fired up the machine. “And it doesn’t even hurt.”

You lowered the machine back to his leg, taking a few quick warm up strokes.

“AHH YOU WITCH!” Sirius wailed. You and Remus both jumped at his shouting, but he quickly dissolved into laughter. “Bloody hell, I knew you two would get along. You’ve got twin scowls,” Sirius chuckled, leaning back against the table with his hands behind his head.

You glanced at Remus, and he looked back at you. A flicker of connection flared between you, and heat rose in your cheeks. Quickly, you looked away, turning your attention back to Sirius’ tattoo.

“So, what are you thinking you want to get, Rem?” Sirius asked after a few moments of quiet, the buzzing of the machine filling the air.

Remus shrugged. “Hadn’t really thought about it. Just wanted to do…something.”

“Well, if you want, we can try and cover any up. But I find that people really get more out of going the decorative route,” you supplied, looking at Remus while you picked up more ink. “I can hand draw a few designs that flow with the scar, turn it into an art piece itself.”

Remus was quiet for a moment, contemplative, and Sirius gave you a knowing smile. “I think I might like that, yeah,” Remus said, his voice soft, almost awestruck. Like he’d never ever considered the possibility before.

As a tattoo artist, you were intimately aware of how much a person’s skin could impact their wellbeing, scars in particular weighed heavily on many people’s spirit. Remus, it seemed, was no exception.

Sirius guided the conversation in another direction, giving Remus a chance to process the implications of what you offered, and you finished the tattoo half-an-hour later. While you were wiping it down, Remus hovered over you, looking down at the piece.

“You’re really good,” he murmured, close enough that you could smell the wool of his sweater, the lingering notes of cinnamon and tea from his cologne. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks, Rem,” you said, smiling up at him, and he smiled back, a flush creeping up his neck before he hurriedly stepped away.

You patched up Sirius and sent the boys on their way, an appointment for Remus on the books for the following week. All he’d given you to work with was placement, his forearm, and that he wanted something natural, like a plant.

Having no more appointments for the evening, you folded yourself into your studio couch with your sketchbook. You sketched a few things, lavender and roses and chamomile, but your fingers itched to draw something else. Remus’ profile floated into your minds eye, sorrowful and striking, and your pen started to move of it’s own accord. His expression came to life under your hand, with long lashes and a crooked nose and that jagged scar.

You clapped your sketchbook shut, sitting back with a sigh.

Next week couldn’t come quickly enough.

You paced around your shop, pouring over your sketch for Remus. You wanted it to be perfect for him, lest you scare him off a tattooing forever.

The door chimes, startling you out of your concentration, and Remus strode in, carrying a tray of drinks and a paper bag

“Morning!” You called, hugging your sketchbook to your chest.

“Morning,” he said, passing you one of the cups. “I asked Sirius what you liked, so if it's awful, blame him.”

Butterflies fluttered to life in your stomach. It wasn't unusual for clients to bring you coffee and food, but with Remus it felt…different.

“Oh! You didn't have to do that. Thank you, Remus,” you said, taking a sip. It was your favorite drink, and it's familiar warmth settled some of your nerves.

He gave you a small smile, but you could tell he was nervous. He set the bag on your desk. “I also brought some pastries. Sirius mentioned you like chocolate?”

“I love chocolate.” You beamed. “Come on in, we can sit over here and go over the design.”

Remus nodded, shirking his coat and following you over to the couch. He was like an anxious thundercloud, tense and unsteady, and it made your chest tight with empathy.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, patting the spot beside you.

He sat down, coiled in on himself despite his long limbs. Like he was afraid to take up too much space. “Ah, fine,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. Earl gray, from the smell of it.

You arched a brow. “It's okay to be nervous, Rem,” you said. “But it's just us, and nothing is set in ink. If you change your mind, it's totally fine.”

“It's just—” he sighed, lifting his arm. He started to roll up his shirt sleeve, dexterous fingers folding the fabric neatly over itself, revealing inch after inch of his forearm. Lightly tanned and taut with lean muscle, veins tangling with the map of scars littering his skin.

He watched your face, gauging your reaction. You tried to stay neutral, but you were practically salivating. He was so beautiful.

“Are they too bad?” He asked, his voice rough with tension.

You met his brown eyes. “Not at all.” You pulled out your sketchbook, flipping to the page you had ear marked. “And it's perfect for what I sketched up.”

He managed a half-smile, some of the clouds disappearing from his aura, and accepted the sketchbook when you handed it to him. His eyes widened.

“Goldenrod,” you said, shifting closer to look at the sketch over his shoulder. “Used to treat pain.”

Remus traced his finger over the tangle of stems, the delicate florals. “I take it almost every day,” he murmured, looking over at you, his eyes warm and full of something you couldn't quite place.

“So, what do you think?” You asked, your gazes lingering on one another.

“I think it's perfect,” he said, and you smiled, genuinely thrilled that he liked it.

“Okay, ready for me to start sketching?” You asked, and he nodded. You led him over to your station, already set up and waiting for him, and he hopped up onto the chair, his long limbs dangling near to the floor. To break the quiet, you put on a muggle record, and Remus seemed to relax a bit, sipping on his tea and watching you putter around through dark lashes.

When you settled onto your stool, ink pen in hand, anxiety bloomed in your stomach. Remus was about to watch you draw on him. You’d drawn on hundreds of clients, but like everything else, with Remus it felt…different.

“It might tickle,” you warned, resting his arm where you wanted it, your fingertips tingling from the contact. “And try to stay very still.”

“Whatever you say, love,” he murmured, getting comfortable. Entirely oblivious to the way the petname made your thoughts turn to static.

You placed your sketchbook just beside his arm and made the first line, a quick stem arching alongside a scar stretching from wrist to elbow. Slowly, line after line, the sketch started to come together, flowing with the natural shape of his forearm and it’s scars. You got lost in the act, sinking into the labor of creating.

It wasn’t until Remus made a soft, approving hum in his throat that you peaked up him, breaking your focus. His eyes were almost sleepy, heavy-lidded and soft and the corners, a smile tugging at his lips.

“No wonder Sirius like this so much,” he said, tracing your face with his eyes. “Watching you work is fascinating.”

Heat roared to your cheeks. “Oh, I don’t—he seems more interested in teasing me than letting me work.”

“That does sound like Sirius,” he chuckled. “I like your focused face much more than that scowl.”

Merlin, what was happening to you? You felt like you could melt into your chair like a pile of pudding. Was he flirting with you? Or does he always talk like a romance book hero?

“How long have you guys known each other?” You asked, changing the subject and ducking back down to your work to hide your expression.

“Decade at least,” Remus said. “We met our first year at Hogwarts. Never thought I’d befriend the Sirius Black, but y’know, stranger things have happened.”

“Why’d you think that?”

Remus shrugged, the muttered a soft apology for moving. “Sirius is…Sirius, and I’m…”

“Charming? Sweet? Clever?” You asked, glancing up at him. “Sirius talks about you like you hung the moon.”

A flush creeped up his neck. “He’s dramatic.”

“And brutally honest,” you said, holding his gaze.

“Can I ask you something?” Now it was his turn to change the subject.

“Of course,” you said, capping your pen and setting it aside.

“Why haven’t you, ah, asked?” He glanced down at his scars, and you knew what he was implying.

You shrugged. “I figured you’d tell me if you felt comfortable. I’m not here to pry, just help.”

His eyes flitted over your face, swallowing hard, and it seemed he was at a loss for words.

“Ready for ink?” You asked, giving him as reassuring of a smile as you could muster.

He exhaled, turning his wrist to inspect the design. “Ready.”

The rest of the appointment flew by, with Remus sitting like a stone while you tattooed him for close to four hours. You didn’t speak much, letting the music fill the empty air, but it was a comfortable silence, broken by the occasional question or annecdote. Remus seemed to appreciate being able to relax, and you were happy to give him a safe place for little while. Holding space for what this moment meant to him.

When you were finished, Remus stared at the tattoo in the mirror for a long time, and when he turned back for you to wrap it up, you could see tears collecting on his lower lashes.

"Thank you for this," he said, clearing his throat. "You were--this was amazing."

You knew he meant the art, but still, the praise made your heart glow all the same. "Of course, Remus. I'm glad I got to be the one to do this for you."

Before leaving, he placed another appointment on your books for the following week, this time asking for a tree along the back of his calf, the roots spreading across the scaring he had there.

After Remus’ second and third appointment, you noticed a change in him. He seemed more confident, a little more outspoken. He was coming to life before your eyes, and you were starting to see the fuller picture of the boy Sirius loved so much.

Already, you felt so close to him. Connected. And you were starting to miss him those days in between, his appointment becoming the highlight of your week. Your sketchbook was filling with sketches of him, like you mind needed a place to spill your overflowing thoughts of him. With Remus, it was like every sound was heightened, every movement sharper, the very colors in the room more vibrant. Overwhelming in the best way.

But then he cancelled your fourth appointment, citing illness, and you didn’t see him for two weeks. It wasn’t until he sent an owl requesting an appointment for this coming Friday that you finally felt like you could breathe.

Sorry again for cancelling. Are you free this Friday? Thinking a moon and stars on my chest, with those gorgeous clouds I saw in your sketchbook. Can’t wait, RL.

When Remus walked into your studio, you had to stop yourself from hugging him, you were so excited to see him. He looked tired, a little dimmer than the last time you saw each other, but he greeted you with a warm smile and a bag of pastries, and that was all you needed.

You had him sit up on the table, busying yourself with the station in avoidance of the inevitable. He was going to have to take his shirt off. Your heart was palpitating just thinking about it.

“Alright, Rem. Strip for me,” you said, ripping the metaphorical bandaid off.

He huffed a laugh, seeming a bit shy himself. “Yes ma’am.” In a fluid motion, he hooked his fingers under his sweater and tugged it overhead. His chest was tanned and lined with lean muscle, the kind built outdoors, not in the gym. The scaring was worse, deeper gauges in softer flesh, but you barely registered it, too busy staring at the half-healed red slash across his ribs.

You gasped. “Rem, what happened?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was in a fight club?” He rubbed the back of his head, averting his eyes from yours.

“No, but you don’t have to tell me anything. Just that you’re alright,” you said, unable to mask the warble of concern in your voice. You were already starting to gather that Remus was…different. And you'd only met one other person with scars that matched his, and they also always cancelled around the full moon.

His eyes softened. “I’m alright, dove. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m the only one that gets to gauge you with weapons,” you huffed, grabbing up your sketching marker.

He barked a laugh, head tipping back on his shoulders. “Fair enough. Only you get to wound me permanently from now on.”

“Glad we reached an understanding.” You propped the sketchbook on the table and leaned in to start sketching. Remus sat up as straight as he could, resulting in your head hovering around his clavicle. But, with his long legs, you couldn’t get close enough.

Remus seemed to pick up on your dilemma and slowly spread his knees, allowing you to step between them. The heat of his body was intense, drawing you closer, but you swallowed your impulse, trying to focus instead on the moon and constellations you were mapping out.

As you drew, you started to shift closer, drawn in by the work and his proximity, the clean smell of his skin, until you were practically leaning against him.

“You smell nice,” he hummed, close enough that you felt his breath tickle the hair around your ear.

You nearly dropped the marker, but managed to keep your grip steady. “So do you,” you said, unable to come up with something clever.

“Y’know, I probably shouldn’t say this, but I—I missed you the last two weeks.” Remus’ voice was low, just above a whisper, resonant like a drum in his chest. You wanted to wrap it around you like a blanket.

You looked up at him, lips slightly parted in shock, so close you could brush your nose against his if you moved a hair closer. “You did?” You asked, certain that if pupils could turn into lovehearts, yours would be beaming out of your head like a cartoon.

His hand came up to caress you jaw, tentative and gentle. “Being with you is the best I’ve felt in ages,” he said, tilting your face a little closer to his. “I don’t—”

The bell to your studio rang loudly, and you jumped back from Remus’ hold, nearly tripping over your stool.

“Hey Moony! There’s my favorite artist!” James came plowing through, wrapping you up in a bearhug that squeezed the air from your lungs. “How are you, sweetness?”

“I’m good, Jamie,” you wheezed, and he set you back on your feet.

The boys clasped hands, a quick, almost automatic handshake.

“What are you doing here, Prongs?” Remus asked, trying and failing at not looking irritated.

“Sirius said you were getting some ink today so I figured I’d swing by and have you take a peak at how mine’s healing.”

“James, it’s been like six months. Your antlers healed fine,” you reminded him.

“You did his antlers?” Remus asked, a flicker of something dark passing through his eyes.

You nodded. “Yeah, you didn’t know?”

He shook his head, glancing sidelong at his friend.

“I suppose it might be time for a touch up. Let me see,” you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest.

James lifted his shirt, revealing a peak of his washboard abs, framed by a pair of sprawling antlers across his hip bones. You leaned a bit closer, checking for any faded spots or ink spreading.

“Looks perfect, Jamie. All good,” you said, sitting back on your stool, mildly impressed with yourself.

“Brilliant. I love them, and they’re very effective.” He waggled his eyebrows, and you and Remus rolled your eyes.

James hung out for another hour, chatting with Remus while you finished the sketch of the tattoo. Your bodies were just as close as before, but with James, you were forced to keep it strictly professional. But the proximity without being allowed to touch was melting your mind, making heat pool in your lower belly. You could feel every breath Remus took, feel the rumble of his voice in your chest, the warmth of his body mingling with yours.

It was maddening, and you could tell Remus was growing more impatient by the second, the muscles around his neck taught with tension, his fingers twitching against his thighs.

At one point, you laughed at one of James’ jokes and swatted at his chest, earning a smile from him. When you glanced back at Remus, his jaw was clenched tight, eyes glaring a hole into the drink in his hands.

Was he…jealous?

He had no right to be, but still, the thought of him being possessive made your heart rate quicken.

Finally, James left, leaving you and Remus alone in the simmering tension you'd built. He watched you closely as you returned to your station, prepping the tattoo machine.

“Would you ever get a tattoo like that?” You asked, glancing up at him through your lashes.

He leaned back on the seat, bracing his hands behind him. Showing off the lean expanse of his torso, the rugged look of him that stood in sharp juxtaposition to his style and personality. “Not sure I could pull it off.”

You scoffed, allowing him to see you peruse his body. “I strongly disagree.”

He chewed on his lower lip, a nervous habit. A flush started to spread across his chest, reaching towards his cheeks. “What would you suggest?” he asked, a sultry edge of his voice.

Unhurried, you stepped back between his legs, letting your fingertips graze along the valleys of his lower abdomen. “Perhaps a snake.” You traced the shape along his skin, his muscles tensing to stop himself from shivering. “Or ferns. Maybe a wolfs jaw—”

“A wolfs jaw?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow at you.

You met his eyes. “You should give me a little more credit, Moony.”

He blinked at you, clearly taken aback that you knew his secret. “You knew.”

“I do now. I've only seen scars like yours once before, on another werewolf. And with the nickname, your tattoo choices, being MIA on the full moon…it adds up.”

His eyes searched your face. “And you don't care?”

“Of course not. I care about you, not your affliction.” Your hands still lingered on his hips, like your skin was magnetized together, you couldn't seem to pull them apart.

Remus straightened, his hand coming up to cup your face again. “I haven't been able to stop thinking about you,” he breathed. “You’ve gotten under my skin, dove.”

“It's risky, y’know, to flirt with your tattoo artist,” you murmured, grazing your fingers over the mostly healed goldenrod tattoo. “You've got a permanent reminder of me.”

He smirked, his hand sliding into the hair at the nape of your neck. “Well, the thing about werewolves…” he was so close, warm breath fanning across your lips. “We're a possessive sort, territorial. So having your mark on my skin…” he sighed, eyes dark with desire. “I'm finding it hard to hold myself back.”

“Then don't,” you replied, heart in your throat.

Remus surged forward, lips colliding in a heady, toe-curling kiss. You immediately gave into him, his tongue caressing the seam of your mouth, dipping past your lips to taste you, claim you.

Your arms found their way around his neck, fingers digging into his feathery hair and tugging at the roots, drawing a low groan from his chest. He nipped at your lower lip in warning before soothing it with his tongue.

“Be gentle with me,” he grated, kissing along your cheek, down towards your throat. He craned your head back, grazing his teeth along your pulse, and you shivered. “I’m trying to savor this, not devour you.”

“Do you always keep yourself on such a tight leash?” You asked, breathless as he lapped at your skin, your thighs trembling with desire.

“Patience, dove,” he chastised affectionately, lifting his head. “Just be good for me, yeah? You’ll get what you want.”

Your brain emptied. Seeing this dominant side of Remus had you folding like origami. You nodded, letting him drag you in for another languid, bone-melting kiss.

Remus slid off the table without breaking the kiss, leaning down to scoop you up by the thighs in a fluid motion.

“Rem!” You gasped in surprise when he turned and dropped you onto the table he just vacated.

He leaned over you, one hand reaching down to recline the seat so you were laying back, legs on either side of his hips. His lips found your neck again, kissing and licking his way down while his hands pushed up the hem of your shirt, fingertips cool against your fevered skin.

“Tell me if you want me stop,” he said, shifting to kiss around your navel.

“Don't stop. Please don't stop,” you pleaded, and he smiled against your hip before sucking the skin between his teeth, biting at your flesh just hard enough you make you keen.

“I won't, love. I'm not going anywhere.” His fingers hooked into the waistband of your jeans, easing them down over your hips until they fell to the ground in a pile.

Your knees tried to pull together on instinct, the vulnerability making you flush, but his hands gripped your inner thighs, spreading you apart for him. You could tell he was in his element, something having loosened from his usually reserved demeanor. It felt like you were seeing him completely for the first time. No holds barred.

“Don't hide from me, pretty girl,” he cooed, lowering to his knees. “You're gorgeous.” He trailed kisses up your thigh, charting a tingling path until his nose grazed sodden panties, making your pussy flutter and clench. “Fuck, you smell divine,” he muttered before dragging his tongue over the thin fabric.

“Oh, god—Remus,” you moaned when he sucked on the fabric over your clit, pleasure blooming from your center. Your eyes rolled back, fingers tangling in his hair as he flicked your swelling bud with his tongue.

“So responsive,” he praised, pulling your panties aside with his middle finger. “You this sweet for all of your clients?”

You shook your head. ”I've never--with a client—fuck, baby.” Your words splintered into a cry as he eased his middle finger inside of you, your dripping entrance accepting him eagerly. He nudged your clit with his nose, making you cry out again.

“Just me?” His voice almost sounded like a purr, deeply pleased by your admission.

You nodded, urging him closer by the roots of his hair, and he practically growled.

He nipped at your thigh, overpowering your meager attempt easily. “Patience, remember?”

You whined. “Remus, please. Just wanna feel you.”

He withdrew his finger, then added a second, pumping you slowly. “I know, baby. I'm right here, I've got you.” His mouth found your clit again, his tongue circling around and around, and you arched off the table, moans spilling from your lips like a song.

Steadily, the fire built, with Remus' devoted attention pouring over you like gasoline. He moaned against you, eyes screwed shut when your pussy clenched around his fingers, teetering on the edge.

The table shifted, rocking back a bit, and you looked past Remus' hair tangled in your fingers to his body. He was rocking his hips against the edge of the table, so turned on by the act of eating you out that he needed some relief.

“Rem, baby,” you whined, the sight dragging you that much closer to release. He glanced up at you, his eyes glazed and pussydrunk, and he whimpered against you.

His deliberate motions got sloppier, greedier, as he rutted against the table. Losing control of himself, like his entire being was desperate to be inside of you.

With a final curl of his fingers, you toppled over the edge, coming with a cry loud enough to rattle the windows as relief crashed over you, cool water dousing the flames beneath your skin.

“Good fucking girl,” he growled, withdrawing his fingers to lap directly from you, savoring every drop of his efforts. “That's it, love. Relax f’me.” He brought you back to earth with his tongue, long, languid licks and kisses around your trembling center, across your inner thigh slung over his shoulder.

“Fuck, Remus,” you panted, slumping back against the table. “That was—”

He made his way up your body, catching your words in a messy, top-lip kiss. “Got your mark all over me now, dove,” he purred, pecking your cheek with a cheeky grin.

“What about…” you trailed off, fingers toying with his belt, unsure of what you were asking for him to fuck you, or mark you. Or both. All you knew was that you wanted him, badly, even more so with that post-orgasm clarity.

“Patience,” he replied, chuckling at the annoyed look you shot him. “Ready to finish up this tattoo?”

“But you didn't get to—”

“I’m, ah, a bit embarrassed to say that I did.” He straightened with a sheepish smile, revealing the dark spot leaking through his jeans.

Holy shit. You'd made him cum in his pants.

You surged up, throwing your arms around his neck and tugging him down in to a ravenous kiss. “Merlin, you're so fucking hot,” you mumbled against his mouth.

He grinned, breaking the kiss to nuzzle into your neck, hiding the flush you could see staining his ears. “Says the girl that made me cum without touching me,” he muttered, almost indignant.

“I’m not sorry,” you chuckled, sighing when he pressed his plush, kiss-swollen lips to your racing pulse.

“It's alright, I'll get even,” he teased, his teeth nipping at your skin.

“Is that a promise?”

“Most normal people would interpret it as a threat.” He picked his head up, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Well, I'm not normal people,” you replied.

“And thank Godric for that.” He kissed you again, all smiles and airy pecks.

Normal was never your style anyway.

© agreeewrites 2025. do not copy, translate or claim my writing as your own.

[simplyraeblue]

King and Captive

(Hunter and Hunted Spin-Off) read here

modern au a chance meeting with Sukuna quickly turns into a nightly routine you can't escape. as the lines between game and something more blur, you start to wonder—how long can you keep playing, or will Sukuna make you his next conquest? !Sukuna x !femreader

chapter warnings/tags: MDNI, NSFW, swearing, mention of needles, piercings, drinking alcohol, mentions of semi-public sex, hooonestly not sure what else for this chap!

A/N: rah rah rah! new chapter! sorry it has taken me so long you guys, but I’ve already got the one after this locked and loaded so I promise it won’t be as much of a wait next time! I wanted something a little more fluffy/lighthearted for this one, so I hope you enjoy ◡̈

index part five | part seven

part six word count: 3,312

you figured that this would be the part of a romance novel where everyone cheers, where every reader can revel in the happiness. but of course, life had to throw you for a loop. 

walking to Cursed Ink was becoming part of your routine—right behind swinging by the pub near work to see Sukuna. on nights he had clients and couldn’t make it to the bar, you found yourself drawn to the shop, craving more of his company. 

it didn’t help that your wicked fantasy of being bent over the tattoo chair had come true just last week, mere days after your first time with him. Sukuna swore he had full control over the security cameras and would scrub the footage clean afterwards, although you doubted he’d actually erase them completely before downloading the data for his own personal use.  

you were proven right by a clip sent to you in the middle of work today. distracting you from your responsibilities and earning a sharp glare from your coworker who just so happened to hear your volume up too loud when you initially opened the message – the sound of breathy grunts exploding from your speakers.  

as you pushed open the door, you silently hoped Sukuna was there alone. no such luck. the moment you stepped inside, you spotted Gojo perched smugly on the front counter, snowy hair catching the light. you barely had time to sigh before Uraume blocked your path, their expression as chilly as their voice. 

“did Sukuna know you were dropping by?” they asked, a hint of warning in their tone. 

“uh, no,” you admitted, suddenly self-conscious. “he’s got a late session, so I thought I’d stop in.” 

were you breaking some unspoken rule? you weren’t sure. 

“relax, Uraume, no need to bite her head off,” Gojo chimed in, pushing his sunglasses down his nose. his piercing gaze landed on you. “maybe she’s here for a tattoo or piercing… unless she’s still too scared?” 

the defiance in you flared, and you stuck out your lower lip. “I'm not scared,” you muttered, though the tiny waver in your voice said otherwise. 

Gojo grinned wider, glancing at Suguru Geto, who lurked across the room. “so you wouldn’t mind if Geto gave you a brand-new piercing, then?” 

Geto grumbled something too low to hear. you fidgeted, scanning the shop for Sukuna and silently praying he’d show up before Gojo’s taunting went any further. 

Gojo’s challenge hung in the air, and although your heart did a nervous flip, you couldn’t stop your pride from stepping forward first. maybe it was that smug look he was giving you, or the fact that Uraume looked ready to toss you right out the door. either way, backing down now would be worse than going through with it. 

“fine,” you said, trying your best to keep your voice steady even though your pulse was thumping in your ears. “let’s do it.” 

Gojo’s grin widened. “oh-ho, really?” he hopped off the counter. “Geto, you hearing this? she’s ready for a new hole.” 

Geto, who’d been quietly setting up equipment at a nearby station, gave you a measured look. he didn’t seem nearly as amused as Gojo. “which piercing?” he asked. 

your gaze flicked to the glinting piercing tools, something wild and impulsive sparking inside you. “actually… I was thinking a nose piercing.” 

Gojo’s eyebrows shot up. “oh? didn’t peg you for a daredevil.” 

a smile tugged at your lips. “guess I felt like taking a risk.” 

Geto nodded, gesturing for you to follow him to one of the piercing stations. “I promise it won’t be so bad. you’ve got this.” 

you dragged your feet a little, nerves spiking again as you slid onto the chair. the station smelled faintly of antiseptic and metal, and you suddenly realized this was really happening. worst case scenario the hole will close up once you remove the jewelry, right? Gojo prowled over to watch, leaning in far too close with that wolfish grin still on his face. 

“don’t hover,” Geto muttered, rolling his eyes at Gojo before turning to you. “it’ll be quick. you good with that?” 

you nodded, swallowing thickly. “yeah. I'm good.” 

a short laugh escaped Gojo. “you should see your face,” he teased. “relax, you’ll be fine.” 

Geto lifted a sterilized needle, his brow drawn in concentration. “stay still.” 

you braced yourself, your hands gripping the seat. the clamp pressed against your nostril, and you forced a steady exhale, counting down in your head—three… two… 

a sharp sting made you wince, your eyes clenching shut for a heartbeat. then it was over, the needle swapped for a small stud you could barely feel sliding into place. it burned, but not as badly as you’d imagined. 

Geto handed you a handheld mirror. “done.” 

“looks good on you,” Gojo remarked, studying it with a surprisingly serious nod. 

you let out a breath, some mix of relief and pride washing through you. “guess I'm not that scared, huh?” 

a new voice cut through before Gojo could retort. “that scared of what?” 

all three of you turned to see Sukuna standing just inside the doorway to the back room, his gaze flicking from your newly pierced nose to the tray of equipment and then to your face. his eyebrows arched, and the lazy smirk you knew all too well curved at his lips. 

“really, you guys couldn’t wait till I was done to start poking holes in her?” he said, sounding both amused and a little annoyed. 

you hopped off the chair, nose still stinging, and tried to shrug it off like no big deal. “I'm fine,” you muttered, though you were pretty sure your cheeks were giving you away. 

Suguru was already tidying up, but Gojo was grinning ear to ear. “you missed a whole show, Sukuna,” he sang out, but Sukuna just waved him off. 

“yeah, yeah,” Sukuna said, eyes locked on you. “I'll get the recap later.” 

as he crossed the shop to you, Gojo snorted, and Geto half-rolled his eyes. Uraume might have murmured something disapproving under their breath, but you barely heard it. all you could focus on was the way Sukuna’s gaze softened—just a fraction—when he saw the slight wince you made, still wiggling your nose to get used to the feeling. 

“come on,” he told you, jerking his head toward the back. “let’s clean that up properly. you’re not done yet, princess.” 

you followed Sukuna through a narrow hallway toward a tucked-away section of the shop. he stopped in front of a small station draped with a clean black towel, turning to eye your new piercing under the bright overhead light. “so,” he drawled, crossing his arms over his chest. “that adrenaline high still going strong?” 

you shrugged, half-smiling, your pulse still galloping from the sudden decision you’d made in front of Gojo and Geto. “yeah,” you admitted, “actually it feels pretty great.” 

his smirk twitched, half amusement, half curiosity. “I gotta give it to you—didn’t think you’d go for the nose. maybe a simple ear piercing first. you really jumped straight to the fun stuff.” 

you met his gaze, lifting your chin in playful defiance. “don’t act surprised. I’ve shown you plenty of times I'm not afraid to keep up.” 

Sukuna chuckled, the low sound reverberating in the small space. “fair enough,” he said, stepping forward until he was close enough for you to catch the faint scent of leather and disinfectant on his clothes. his hand reached out, fingertips brushing your cheek. 

“you cool with it?” he asked, quieter now. “doesn’t hurt too bad?” 

you shook your head, your voice equally soft. “nah, it’s fine. might sting a bit if I accidentally bump it, but…” you shrugged, forcing a casualness you barely felt with him standing so near. 

for a moment, he said nothing, his eyes lingering on you as though trying to memorize every detail of your face. when he finally spoke, his voice was low enough that it felt like a secret. “kind of suits you,” he repeated, a subtle smile tugging at his lips. “a little edge. looks good.” 

heat rose to your cheeks at the unexpected gentleness in his tone. “thanks,” you managed, your heart thumping just as hard as it had when Geto pushed the needle through your skin. 

- 

the only thing Sukuna hated about your new piercing was that it made tearing his eyes away from you nearly impossible. not that he’d had an easy time ignoring you before—but now, it was downright futile. 

he could lie and say it was because the tiny stud caught the light, creating a distracting sparkle, but deep down, he knew it was because it made you look damn good. pristine skin, no other ink or metal to speak of—until you met him. Sukuna liked to imagine he’d corrupted you just a bit. 

“it’s nice to finally meet you,” Shoko said, offering a handshake from across the table. “I’ve heard plenty about you.” 

you and Sukuna were settled into the booth of a bar alongside Gojo, Geto, Uraume, and Shoko. “likewise,” you replied, feeling oddly self-conscious under her calm, assessing gaze. but she just smiled, gave a small nod, and sipped her drink as though you passed some unspoken test. 

“next rounds on me,” Gojo declared with a cocky grin, sliding out of the booth. before leaving, he cast you a mischievous look. “hope your new piercing can handle strong liquor without bursting into flames.” 

you rolled your eyes, flicking your gaze to Sukuna in time to catch him staring yet again. he masked it with a lazy smirk, slipping an arm across the back of the booth behind you. “what?” he drawled, shrugging as though you’d caught him red-handed. “I like the view.” 

Geto, sipping his drink, let out a small laugh at Sukuna’s halfhearted attempt at nonchalance. “you’re not subtle, you know,” he remarked, earning a wry eye roll from Uraume. Shoko, who’d been quietly observing, raised an eyebrow and shook her head, a hint of amusement on her face. 

ignoring the teasing, Sukuna leaned in just enough for you to hear him over the crowd. “how’s it feeling? everything okay?” he asked, nodding at your nose with a quick glance. 

you smiled, appreciating the concern behind the brash exterior. “it’s fine,” you said, voice low enough that only he could catch it. “might sting if I catch it on something, but I'll survive.” 

“good girl,” Sukuna replied, that faint edge of cockiness tugging the corners of his mouth into a grin as he watched your face flush. he pulled back right as Gojo returned with a tray of drinks, his voice booming with mock cheer. 

Gojo, now comfortably sprawled out on the opposite side of the table, decided to stir the pot. “hey, princess,” he called to you with a grin. “does your new hardware come with hazard lights, or is that just the glow of Sukuna’s embarrassment?” 

Geto gave Gojo a mild shove, rolling his eyes at his friend’s antics. “give it a rest, Gojo,” he said, but the slight curve to his lips betrayed his amusement. Uraume merely side-eyed the exchange, sipping their drink without comment. 

you only smirked in response, turning back to Sukuna. “apparently, I'm giving off some kind of glow.” 

“shut it,” Sukuna grumbled, although his hand slipped to your waist under the table in a half-hearted warning. Shoko caught the movement out of the corner of her eye and shot you a knowing smile, but didn’t comment. “why is it always me that gets picked on?” 

“because it’s fun,” Gojo chimed in, knocking back the rest of his drink. 

another round of drinks arrived, then another, then another, and soon everyone was just a bit looser—voices carrying over the thrum of conversation, laughter coming easier, boundaries melting away under the pleasant buzz of alcohol. 

Gojo, predictably, became even more theatrical, gesturing wildly as he recounted some half-true story about a weekend escapade. Geto, who was perched next to him, looked half-amused, half-ready to stuff a napkin in Gojo’s mouth. Uraume sipped at their glass, occasionally rolling their eyes when Gojo got too carried away. 

in the midst of it all, Shoko slid into the seat next to you, offering a fresh drink. “thought you might need something less… obnoxious,” she said with a wry grin, nodding pointedly at the neon-colored concoction in Gojo’s hand. 

“thanks,” you replied, swirling the amber liquid in your new glass before taking a cautious sip. it had a pleasant warmth, a slow burn that settled nicely in your chest. 

“first time out with the whole crew?” Shoko asked, her tone neutral, though her eyes flicked in Sukuna’s direction—where he was engaged in a half-heated, half-joking argument with Gojo about god knows what. 

“yeah,” you admitted, leaning in so she could hear you over the noise. “usually, it’s just me and Sukuna… or occasionally Geto, too. this is the first time I’ve been with everyone at once.” 

she took a sip of her drink and gave you a small smile. “they’re a handful,” she said, tilting her glass toward Gojo, who was now attempting to coax Uraume into doing a shot with him. “but they grow on you, if you let them.” 

“kind of like a fungus?” you joked, earning a quick snort of laughter from Shoko. 

“exactly,” she teased, her eyes lighting up. she was quiet for a moment, swirling the ice around in her glass. “so,” she said finally, “how’s the nose piercing treating you?” 

you touched it lightly, feeling that subtle tug where the skin was still a bit tender. “it’s fine, actually. doesn’t hurt too much anymore. Sukuna was more worried about it than I was.” 

Shoko’s brows rose. “he always acts too tough. but behind that façade?” she paused, taking another drink, and shook her head knowingly. “he’s just as concerned about his people as the rest of us. maybe more.” 

it made you smile, thinking of how often Sukuna’s gruff exterior slipped just enough to reveal that protective streak. “yeah,” you agreed softly, glancing over at him. “I'm starting to realize that.” 

Shoko followed your gaze, then turned back to you, looking strangely pleased. “well, if you ever need a second opinion on any of your new… adventures—or if that nose starts acting up—feel free to reach out. medic on call.” she tapped the side of her head, half-mocking, half-serious. 

“thanks.” you lifted your glass in a small toast. “I appreciate it.” 

she clinked her glass against yours. “no problem.” then her gaze shifted, eyes narrowing slyly. “just don’t let him drag you into too many fights. or do—your call. but if you ever have to patch him up, call me instead of the hack job he’d try to do on himself.” 

you laughed, and Shoko joined in, her once-reserved demeanor warming the more you two talked. another cheer erupted from the other side of the booth as Gojo finally convinced Uraume to take a shot, and even Geto got in on the revelry with a faint grin tugging at his lips. Sukuna caught your eye in the midst of the chaos, one eyebrow raised as if to ask if you were okay. you gave a small nod, a silent reassurance. 

turning back to Shoko, you found she was watching the exchange with that same wry smile. “looks like he’s keeping an eye on you,” she remarked quietly, sipping her drink. 

and from the way your heart flipped at his quick check-in, you realized that maybe you were keeping an eye on him, too. 

your cheeks were beginning to feel hot and your words a little slurred by the time Shoko coaxed you into another drink. you couldn’t help but laugh as Gojo tried—and failed—to balance an empty shot glass on Geto’s head. Uraume observed the entire spectacle with their usual cool detachment, while Sukuna shot you a quick, amused glance and shook his head like he couldn’t believe you’d let yourself get dragged in so deep. 

then the door swung open, ushering in a new wave of noise and energy. you saw the pink puff of hair before you heard him. a ripple of excitement ran through the group as Yuji approached, Megumi, Nobara, and Choso in tow. they were quickly swept up in Gojo’s exuberant storytelling, but you were getting swept up by that nagging feeling again.  

because she came along.  

you leaned against Sukuna’s side, soaking in the warmth of his presence even as your gaze drifted to where she had sat. she was chatting easily with Choso, her hand resting comfortably on his forearm, and every so often, her eyes slid across the table to Sukuna. 

you tried to ignore the way your stomach twisted each time she did. your insecurities flared, a nagging voice in your mind whispering that she was probably the prettiest woman in the group. you couldn’t help wondering if Sukuna had ever looked at you the way he used to look at her. 

she smiled at something Choso whispered to her, then turned her attention to you. “I love the new piercing,” she said, genuine admiration coloring her voice. “it really suits you.” 

you mustered a smile, hoping the warmth in your cheeks didn’t show. “thanks,” you managed, fighting off the prick of jealousy at how easily she carried herself. next to her, you couldn’t help but feel… ordinary. 

Gojo, never one to miss a chance to stir the pot, leaned forward. “you should’ve seen Sukuna’s face when he first noticed it,” he teased, tipping his glass in your direction. “man nearly fell over.” 

Sukuna gave an exasperated eye roll but tugged you a bit closer, his hand settling at your shoulder. “don’t start,” he warned, though the corner of his mouth twitched with reluctant humor. 

Choso, seeming to sense the slight shift in tension, cleared his throat. “so, who’s ready for another round?” he lifted a brow at Megumi and Nobara, who nodded, and Yuji eagerly shot to his feet to help with the drinks. meanwhile, Shoko watched you with an understanding glimmer in her eyes, like she’d noticed your momentary discomfort and decided not to comment on it directly. 

as more of your group flitted from the table to go order, leaving you without Sukuna’s presence, Shoko sat back down next to you again. “to be fair,” Shoko began quietly, leaning in just enough that you could catch her words over the music, “I'm really surprised they can even be this friendly with each other.” she followed your line of sight, an almost rueful smile playing at her lips. 

“friendly?” you repeated, trying to sound casual. “I mean… they seem okay.” 

Shoko’s shrug was subtle. “they are now. but it wasn’t always like this.” she paused, as though weighing how much to reveal. then she let out a small sigh and continued. “things were… messy between them. he didn’t talk about it much. neither did she.” 

your heart twinged at the word messy, and you couldn’t keep yourself from asking, “what happened?” 

Shoko grimaced, pausing as if she wasn’t sure if she should share the information. but thanks to quite a few drinks, her lips started moving on their own. “they were never... official. and it was quite the love triangle between those three for a while. but all I know is he messed up. told us that he’d hurt her without meaning to, and that there was no redemption.” 

“hurt her? I know Sukuna can be… intense, but what did he do that was irredeemable?” you shouldn’t have asked, and your conscious reprimanded you for it. but you couldn’t have possibly known the next words that would come out of her mouth. 

and after learning what he did... you felt your heart drop to your stomach.  

⊹. ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊

taglist : @mangiswig @sorahatake @osohchoso @clp-84 @sterzin @csolya @emochosoluvr @aldebrana @ravester @marie-is-in-the-dark @makingtimemine

[slimybeth69]

Que Será, Será: Part 9

Rating: Explicit- Smut, violence, drinking/drug use. MDNI!!

Summary: It's almost twenty years after some weird outbreak almost happened but the CDC took care of that...Now you're living in Austin, Texas as an adult.What happens when you meet Joel Miller who hasn't been hardened and ruined by twenty years of murder and loss?Warnings/Tags: DaddyDom!Joel/ you. no use of y/n. No physical description of the reader besides one tattoo. Reader has a background story. Drinking/drug use. Slow burn. Smut. Angst. Cheating. Graphic depictions of violence. Eventual loss of virginity. Use of nicknames/pet names (lil girl, baby girl.) DD/lg dynamics. BDSM play.

Unbeta'ed. WIP. Cross-posting from my Ao3.Chapter

Warnings: drinkings, bar fights, reader gets injured, Joel is a DICK. SMUT!! SO MUCH!!! IT'S HAPPENING EVERYONE. IT'S HAPPENING.

It’s been two weeks since your little drinking, spanking, shopping and swapping shenanigans. Joel (your boyfriend) has spent the night at least…nine or ten times and each time he brings you something. Four times it was flowers, another time he brought dinner. The next night he brought you sex toys. Real sex toys and didn’t even ask to watch you use them. Just left them on your bedside table before he left for work and then kissed you goodbye while you slept. 

He doesn’t ask you to come over after you said you feel bad about leaving your brand new cat. Who is…perfect and sweet. She is a snuggly baby and just wants love and scratches. She looooves Joel. Meows at him all the time and he acts annoyed by it but you know he loves it. He’s so nice and sweet to her. Picks her up and puts her in his lap when he thinks you aren’t looking. He just wants to pet her and be nice to her. 

It’s going to be awkward if and when Sam and Cody ever come home. Another grown man…older than both of them sleeping in their basement? Awesome. Sam–if she ever gets better– is going to lose her mind that this man is twenty years older than you. She’s also going to have a sarcastic mouth and say something about him being old enough to be your dad and… Joel doesn’t like that very much. Not at all, actually. So. 

You guys get it…more than you would think. People are just openly telling you and your dad to have a great day. Enjoy your meal. Have fun. Why are people okay with outwardly assuming the older gentleman you’re with is your dad? Huh? Weird. Joel does not let go of your hand or your ass everywhere you go because he hates it so much. It’s been a struggle.

But not enough to make him not wanna see you anymore.

Joel is taking you to the bar tonight to meet Tommy, his brother. Your boyfriend (never gets old) told you that you’ve probably seen Tommy before. He comes into the store too. You're racking your brain of every man who has ever come through your line before. Ones that look like Joel? None. Maybe. You dunno. You see so many guys all day long. 

Tommy recognizes you though. Sure does. 

“You rejected me a couple months ago.” Tommy snickers softly as he shakes your hand. “But you’ll date my asshole older  brother? I see. I see you.” Tommy gives you the universal – index and middle fingers pointed at his eye then to yours– motion that says ‘I see you’. It’s fine. You do not care. Joel is your type and Tommy is no Joel. 

Tommy is alright though. You’re shocked you turned him down as you all sat at a booth near the back of the bar with drinks. His hair is longer, shoulder length and darker than Joel’s. Mustache and a goatee. He never asked for your number… He’s lying. Maybe. 

“You like Austin?” Tommy sips on his beer after he asks. 

“It’s alright. I liked living in Jersey. I didn’t really wanna move. It was just hard finding a job up there…but it was just as hard down here.” You snort and take a sip of your drink as Joel relaxes. He said in the car he was sore and he needed a massage later. You would give him one in hopes he would fuck you. He still hasn’t. It’s fine. You’re not upset about it. 

“Hardware store treat you good? Joel told me ‘bout your truck and your computer. Sucks. Sorry.” Tommy seems like a nice guy. 

“They’re nice to me. Give me the same schedule that I like. Don’t make me work late. I don’t love it, but I don’t hate it.” You shrug your shoulders. “Do you like working with Joel?” You feel a gentle and slow moving hand on your bare thigh, Joel’s hand under the skirt of your sundress.. A comforting touch. 

“S’alright. All I’ve ever done. I started right after I graduated high school— did that early.” Tommy smiles at himself proudly. 

“That’s fuckin’ cool. Did you do any night classes or anything like that to go to college smarty pants?” You tease him nicely. He chuckles and shakes his head. 

“Nooo. Stayed here and just worked for this miserable fuck. Probably will for the rest of his life.” Tommy jokes and Joel rolls his eyes. 

“I’m fuckin’ retiring soon. Fuck that shit. You take over. You do this shit.” He grumbles and sips his beer. 

“I’ll take over, shiiit. Been waiting to hear those words.” Tommy shakes his head in a sense of disbelief and excitement and is smiling. It’s a cute brother interaction and it’s good to see that they’re close. Tommy doesn’t actually hate him you don’t think. So that’s good. Joel is moving his hand all up and down your leg and moving it in towards your inner thigh, squeezing you tightly with his rough fingers. 

“I’m thinkin’ next year or two. Nothin’ too long.” Joel sounds reassuring to Tommy. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Tommy rolls his eyes and finishes his beer. “Y’all want another?” You and Joel both say yes and as soon as Tommy is out of earshot, Joel leans in and whispers in your ear. 

“Open your legs.” Then he kisses you on the cheek and leans back against the booth. You open your legs slowly and Joel doesn’t tease or anything, he's inside your panties and he slides one thick, stiff finger through your folds, pulls his hand from under your dress and offers his finger that was just trailing up your other set of lips. You open your mouth and he smears your juices on your tongue, withdraws his finger and then sucks it clean with his mouth. “Close ‘em.” Joel nudges your knee with his under the table and you snap them shut as Tommy walks up. 

They start to talk and you have no time to talk to him about what he just did. In public! Indecency!! Getting arrested?? He had scared you in the parking lot when he said you could get arrested!! No thank you. Your back is sweating from that. Kinda hot… 

“Hey,” Joel nudges you with his elbow and drags you back to the bar and out of fucking thinking about becoming a registered offender for Joel. You’re being spoken to and not responding. Tommy is asking you something. 

“Did you go to school?” 

“Um, for a little bit and then I found a job I loved and didn’t wanna go. Wasn’t going…” You chuckle that last part nervously. “Partied a little and just would sleep through class. Wasting money.” You shrug your shoulders. You can feel Joel’s eyes on you but you don’t look up at him. 

“Damn. I went to a couple of college parties. Fuckin’ pretty wild shit happenin’ there.” Tommy is doing nothing to help your case. 

“Dumb shit.” You snort and avoid the quizzical eyes that that are being given to you by your boyfriend. You left out the parties when he asked. Dunno why you said anything tonight. Idiot. 

“Hell yeah. Saw some wild shit…” Tommy’s eyes are flicking between you and Joel and he’s smirking. “Your man over there know what kinda wild shit you was gettin’ into?” He snickers into his beer glass. 

“I wasn’t getting into any wild shit. Just drinking too much.” You roll your eyes and finally look up at Joel who is just… lookin’ at you. “I wasn’t gettin’ into wild shit!” You exclaim and he smirks. 

“Sure.” Then he goes back to talking to Tommy. 

“Hey, I’ll be right back” You stand to go to the bathroom after letting Joel know and try and find it in this maze of a bar. You find it a minute later. You look nice tonight. Did your make up all pretty and actually did something pretty with your hair. You're happily looking at yourself in the mirror and two girls walk in– pretty girls. They look at you. You look at them. It’s quiet for two seconds. 

“I love your dress!” One of them exclaims excitedly. They fawn over your simple navy blue dress. It’s knee length. Nothing fancy but they hype you up in the bathroom and make you feel so nice. What a good drunk girl bathroom experience. You’re on cloud nine walking back to the booth when chaos erupts beside you at the bar. You have no time to scramble away before the tall bar chairs are being knocked over and hitting you in the legs. It hurts! People start shouting–

“Fuck you– stupid fucking pussy bitch. You won’t do shit. You fucking wont”

“Fuckin’ lets go outside. Fight me outside pussy. One-on-one. Me n’ you, fucker.” 

They do not wait and are throwing punches so quickly and moving so fast. You are overtaken by them and do not even realize what is happening as you take elbows and maybe a fuckin’ fist to the eye!? What was that!? Jeeeesus that hurt– whatever the fuck it was– but it doesn’t stop! They are fighting and now more people from the bar are jumping in to fight or break it up. 

Soft, small hands are on yours and pulling you out of the way but someone falls and breaks your grip and now you’re stumbling backwards towards more fighting men and now, fighting women. They aren’t asking who is involved. Just throwing punches and you take one to the left tit and someone kicks you in the back of the thigh!! What the fuck!! Now, you’re mad and you are also fucking punching and kicking people. What the fuck!? Who just doesn’t let the girls get outta the way first??? 

One of the two original guys is on the ground, and he definitely hit you or elbowed you (on accident, but still). You give him two good stomps to the shoulder for whatever he did to you and then… you get a real punch to the face. The fist is big, feels like a boulder against your skull. There is so much force behind it. You're stunned. One that sends you into tunnel vision and it’s blurry and you’re in pain. Real pain. None of that other shit hurt like this. Hoooly shit. Your eye is on fire. It might have fucking fallen out. Jeeeeus. You're stumbling away, almost falling down to the ground. More people are on top of you. You are fighting them off of you. 

You're trying to stand up in this mob of people and your hand gets stepped on and it hurts. Your dress is all hiked up to your stomach. The bar floor is sticky and there are hands on you. Not even trying to be groping or touching you the way they are, they're just as desperate to get out of this sea of hot, sweating bodies. Finally, you're on your knees and someone pushes you forward into someone another girl. You've never seen her before, and now the eye that hurt before it's stinging and you can barely see out of it. You see out of your good eye that she is getting ready to fight you for slamming into her, she has her first cocked back but you beat her to it, you slam your closed fist right between her eyes and now, the hand that has been stepped on and now punched into someones skull-- sends fire to your brain. More new pain as you push yourself to your feet while still being all jostled around.

More small, soft, girly hands are on yours immediately pulling you out of the way. It’s one of the girls from the bathroom. She is all messed up too, her hair and make up. Missing one of her fake eyelashes. Over her shoulder you have just enough time to see Joel with his hand around the throat of some guy, you hope the one who hit you and is pinning him to the wooden bar. Joel’s other fist is cocked back and he sends it forward. You can’t watch but you can hear it. Hear his fist connecting with that guy’s face. 

Fuck. Your face hurts real bad. Guy’s hands are on you but you already know they are not Joel’s so you start to push them off you angrily but Tommy’s voice is in your ear.

“Joel wants me to get you out of here.” Tommy is shouting over the commotion and noise and the screaming. It’s so loud. You’re still wincing as the guy Joel is holding to the bar starts to fight back. Tommy is leading you out of the bar through the fire exit and an alarm goes off but outside it’s finally… not chaos. 

“Shit! You okay!?” Tommy takes your face in his hands and inspects your eye. There is a comfort behind his touch that brings tears to your eyes before he brings ones of pain to them!

“I’m fine. It just— shit! Don’t fuckin' touch it!” You snap at him when he runs his hand over whatever is causing you pain. He pulls his hand away and there is blood on his thumb. “Is that my blood?!” You exclaim and bring one hand to your eye and the pain is coming from high on your upper lid near the outer edge of your brow. Stinging, burning and dull throbbing. Blood on your fingers!! You don’t have your purse or phone or anything. It’s all inside. Your hurt eye is still stinging. So bad. You have blood in your eye and it hurts! So badly! Where is your boyfriend!? Why is his brother taking care of you!? 

People come pouring out of the bar from every door. You and Tommy are looking for Joel for so long before he comes out of the bar… looking really angry. He’s got your bag, jacket and phone in his hand but he’s pointing at you accusingly shouting at you before he is even close enough for you to hear him but he keeps yelling until you can.

“Grow the fuck up!” He barks at you loudly. “Fightin’ at the bar? Really?!” He shouts at you and you’re so confused. As Joel gets closer, Tommy steps between the two of you like Joel… might do something if he didn’t. 

“I wasn’t fighting!!” You shout back at him. 

“I fuckin’ saw you!! Throwing fuckin’ fists! Ya fuckin’ serious!?” Joel is still pointing at you but over Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy keeps trying to talk to Joel who looks so fucking angry at you, but Joel keeps moving his head to see you. Joel has blood on his knuckles but his face is fucking fine so why is he yelling at you!? He was fighting too!

"You were fighting!! I saw you!!" You shout at him with more tears rolling down your face. Joel erupts-- pushing Tommy away, stumbling backwards until he regains his balance and get's between you and Joel again

"Beating up the fucker that pushed you!! For you to turn around and punch that fuckin' lady!" Joel screams at you. "She do that to you!? GOOD! S'whatchya get for fighting!" 

“A guy punched me–” You sob as tears roll down your cheeks, trying to explain yourself but he doesn’t let you finish. 

“Shut the fuck up! Grow—” Joel stops mid sentence and takes you in, really looks at you for the first time since he came outside. See's how badly you're beat  “A guy hit you!? Who!? Which fuckin’ one!?.” Joel is twisting his head around looking for whoever did it to you.

“Duh!!!! You fucking asshole!” You shout at him. “I don’t know who did it!! I got fucking punched in the face!!” You’re screaming a little and storm off towards his truck. You hear a scuffle behind you and look over your shoulder and now Tommy and Joel are fighting. Tommy is trying to get Joel to give you a minute, or Joel himself a minute to cool down. Joel is not letting it happen, shoving his brother in the chest, talking shit– being an asshole. You don’t even care if they fight. Fuck this. You keep going towards the truck until you hear the sound no one wants to hear. 

An expensive phone dropping on a hard surface. Pavement in this case. You close your eyes and keep walking because you already know it was yours and it’s probably broken and you can’t think about it. Won’t.You’re still sobbing as you get to Joel’s truck.

This night didn’t happen. 

Your face says a different story in the side mirror of Joel's truck. There is evidence that it did happen. You’re black and blue on your right eye and have an inch long laceration right below your eyebrow. Bleeding. Dripping down the side of your face– which is numb– and down your chin and onto your pretty dress. Your hand is all black and blue. You inspect the back of your thigh and it is also, black and blue. With a red shoe print right In the middle. You sob softly against the car and just want Joel to take you home and never talk to you again. 

The truck unlocks while you’re standing against the door. You open it before Joel has the chance to do it for you and climb in. You don’t even look at him when he gets in. He just sits next to you silently for so long. Feels like an hour of him just listening to you cry. 

“I'm sorry. Jus' slipped outta my hand. I’ll getchya a new one tomorrow. Better one.” He murmurs softly. “N’ I’m sorry fer’ yelling at you. Tellin' ya t'shup up.” He reaches over the console now to touch your shoulder but you pull away, still crying. “I am sorry. I was just mad n’ all fuckin’.. I dunno. Just...” 

“Just fuckin’ yellin' at me.” You sob. “I’m bleeding!” You turn to him and show him the blood on your face that he can clearly see. He nods and leans over the console to inspect it. You let him, let him touch your chin gently in his fingers to turn your head so you'll look at him. His other hand pulls the skin above your eyebrow up so he can inspect how deep the wound is. It hurts when he does that so you whimper and clench your eyes shut. He sucks his teeth softly and sadly. 

“I’m gonna take you to the hospital. Y'need stitches.” he leans in and steals a gentle kiss before you can stop him, you honestly, don't even want to. "I am sorry. So sorry." He murmurs against your lips with desperation in his tone. He has your blood on his cheek when he pulls away– and you mindlessly wipe it off with your thumb, and then feel fucking stupid for caring about that when he didn't care to begin with. "I really am.” He starts the truck and drives towards the emergency room. You say nothing.

You need six stitches. Joel is driving you home two hours later in silence. You don’t even have a phone to look at. Smashed to fuck. Because your boyfriend is an asshole. Neither one of you say anything until he pulls into your driveway. 

“So…I’m not leavin’...” Joel starts to explain, you try and argue with him but he narrows his eyes on yours and it silences you. “I had a lil plan fer’ tonight… n’ it looks like yer’ too mad at me for that to happen–” Joel is still talking but you don’t even really hear him. You speak over him. He keeps talking and you tune back into what he is saying. "--leavin'. I don't gotta sleep in yer' bed. I'll stay on the couch but we're talkin' 'bout this tomorrow. We have to. I gotta buy you a new phone..." He trails off shaking his head in shame for himself for acting the way he did. 

“You were gonna… fuck me tonight?” You scoff and squint your eye at him. The other one is a lil swollen. Joel nods and shrugs his shoulders.

“I thought it’d be fun, have a couple drinks… loosen up a lil. Fuck you all night. 'Cause I know ya really want it. Yer' excited for it. Not nervous n' shy.” Joel looks down at his hands as he speaks. 

“That an excuse to get you inside?” You ask softly. Joel shakes his head. 

“I been knew we were gon’ do this tonight. Couple days ago-- when we decided to have you meet Tommy.” Joel chuckles. “Fuckin’ shoulda just done it a long time ago.” He scoffs softly like he is annoyed with himself. “Was gon’ have you wear that lil white thang I got you. Was gonna fuckin'... defile you in that thang.” He turns his head to look at you and frowns. “I don’t wanna leave, Bird. I wanna talk 'bout it. Don't gotta do nothin'. Talk in the mornin'?” He pleads with you softly and quietly. 

“I don't need to talk about it. I have one thing to say." You look at him with the most honest, and innocent eyes you have because you are. You're a nice girl who doesn't fight at the bar. You want to be a good girl for him but, not if this is the kind of person he's going to be to you. "If you ever yell at me like that again…you’ll never get a chance to apologize for it. I mean it.” You snap at him and open the door to his truck and jump down. Your door isn’t even shut before Joel is beside you. He lets you lead him to the front door and watches you unlock it, his hands on your waist. 

“I’m sorry. I'll be better. I will.” Joel whispers in to your ear as he trawls his hands along your sides and over your stomach. Once the door is open, the front of one of his thighs press against the backs yours and he pushes your leg into the house slowly, and then does it with the other as he walks you into the entryway. “Sorry.” He whispers once more against the nape of your neck as his hands roam across the front of you. 

“I know.” You lean back against his chest and now he pulls you into him, kissing your skin softly. “I’m still mad though!” You pull away from him but he holds you against him and speaks quickly to stop your pushing and fighting hands on his arms around you.

“You should be.” It's spoken firmly against the crook of your neck and makes you stop fighting him. “I get.. I dunno– seein' you get pushed by that guy... I got fuckin' scared. N' then I turn around n' see you fighting? I got mad. Like an asshole-- I say shit I don’t mean.” He sounds ashamed. 

“S’why your wife left?” You ask sharply and are not even scared because if he gets mad again, he can fuckin’ leave. 

“Partially.” Joel sighs. “She was just as bad, Bird.” Joel holds his arms out from behind you and twists them in each direction so you can see all those scars. “Not from workin’.” Joel kisses your neck again and his warm breath feels staggered like he is nervous to be talkin’.

“She did this to you?” You whisper quietly in shock. 

“Fer’ three fuckin’ years.” He groans and then pulls his arms away. “I hate talkin’ ‘bout it, don’t fuckin’ wanna, really. What else you wanna know?” Joel sighs softly from behind you. 

“You ever hit her back?” You’re not sure you wanna know, but you kind of need to know. 

“Once.” Joel whispers and his body is gone from behind yours. You turn and he’s leaning against the front door with the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes. “Fuckin’... the night ‘fore she took off. We were fightin’, n’ she just wouldn’t let up.” He doesn’t remove his hands, sounds angry to be talking about it and is starting to speak a little more aggressively. “Non stop. All night. Scratchin’, wailin’ on me somethin’ fuckin’ terrible. Callin’ me a bad dad– been a dad for two weeks mind you, workin’ my ass off day in n’ out for those that lil girl n' that bitch who fuckin' hit me.” Joel finally rips his hands away from his eyes and is shaking his head, with an angry smile on his face. “I fuckin’ just… I dunno, lil tap on her mouth-- t’ shut her up. After three fuckin’ years of puttin’ up with it.” Joel tosses his hands in the air and puts his hand on the doorknob.

“Don’t go–” You try and stop him even though you are still mad at him. Those patterned scars on his arms? Her fucking fingernails and that's heartbreaking. Makes you so fucking sad that he put up with that for so long because he just wanted to be a dad.

“I need a fuckin' minute—” He says sharply. “I'm not takin’ my bullshit out on you– again.” Then he opens the door, steps out onto the porch and shuts the door behind him. 

What the hell is going on? 

You go to the basement because, poor Joel. Your battered and beaten– That fuckin’ bitch of an ex-wife of his better hope you never have to meet her. You’ll put your hands on her in ways Joel couldn’t. Sure fuckin’ will. You’re so mad thinking about it while you change out of your bloody dress and into that lil white lace thing Joel got you. 

You’re losing your virginity tonight. You don’t care what he says or if he wants to (you’re not gonna do that), you also don’t care that you have a black eye and a laceration with stitches. No. You’re going to fuck your boyfriend and make him less sad for having a terrible ex-wife that he— You gasp audibly even though no one is around to hear– thankfully. Joel is going to have to see her at his daughter's wedding. Stupid, man beatin’ bitch. Joel should have just left but… you’ve never been in an abusive relationship. So…you have no room to talk. You are going to fuck him. You're partially a little mad at him, mostly feel kinda bad that his wife used to hit him. Want him to remember how good n' tight your pussy is if he ever sees her again and gets sucked back into whatever bullshit she was dishing out that kept him around for so long. 

You're gonna do your damnedest to seduce your boyfriend and get him to fuck you. You need it more than he does honestly. You got punched in the face--- fuuck. Your PHONE!? You cannot even think about it because you'll lose all sense of feeling bad for him and go out there and spit on him not nicely. Okay. Sex with Joel. 

You’ll just be there for him if and when he comes inside to see you ready in bed. Splayed out so he can fucking use you if he needs to. You don't care. You cleaned up all the blood and honestly…ya don’t look half bad. You look sexy as hell in that lil white thang and your black eye. He won’t be able to resist. If he ever comes inside…he’s been out there for so long. 

It’s hard to not go inspecting when he’s out there for a half hour. Just sitting on one of the chairs on the porch. You could go outside. Sam and Cody’s house faces a giant field and has no neighbors across from them and it’s late. You’re fuckin’ in your lil white thing. Shit. Fuck. Doesn’t matter. He is your boyfriend and he is sad. You open the door and take a deep breath, getting ready to be almost naked outside. 

“Hi.” You stand with your feet together after you step out and turn to him. He doesn’t look up at you, just stares at his hands. 

“I’m sorry, baby.” He grumbles to himself. “I just feel like an ass.” He still doesn’t look up. 

“I know. You should for what happened at the bar. But, we can talk another time about it. Come inside with me.” You feel like an ass to for being out here like this. Cody and Sam���have neighbors on either side of their house…so someone could fuckin’ see you. 

“I need another minute, babe. I'm so--” Joel turns his head to look at you and stops mid-sentence. “Woah.” He sighs softly. “Yer' like a pretty lil angel.” Joel smirks and his eyes trace every voluptuous curve of your body before his eyes find yours. “You want Daddy t’fuck you tonight– all night? S'why you put that on? For me?” He asks softly, turning his body in the chair, resting one elbow on the armrest. 

“Yes, Daddy.” You nod at him and he pushes himself out of the chair. 

“Where you want it?” He growls softly. “Out here?” Joel raises one eyebrow and you freeze in fear and start to panic but Joel smirks and takes three steps so he can be in front of you, turning you so your back is to the front door. “Get yer’ ass in that bed, right now.” His kisses are long and desperate as your hand searches for the doorknob that is somewhere on the door behind you. He finds it for you and leads you inside, downstairs and to the bed. 

There is a trail of his clothes from the front door to where he has you now. On your bed. Naked between your legs. Both of you are quivering and searching endlessly for more air as you’re reduced to a puddle as he slides his length over your cunt through that little triangle of white fabric that separates the two of you. 

“Might hurt a lil.” Joel whispers down to you as he rolls his hips into yours softly. He’s been doing this as he kisses you, teasing you with nibbling bottom lip kisses and naughty words for several minutes and now he’s is like hot steel between your legs. “I’m sorry if it does hurt at all. Imma go slow the first time as long as y’need me to.” He whispers as just the tips of your noses touch softly. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah..” You’re so fucking nervous and excited and feel like you’ll never catch your breath again. 

“I like bein’ this close to ya, but…I gotta watch.” Joel kisses you softly and leans back so he can look between your two bodies that meet right in the center. “Fuuuck.” Joel whispers to only himself as he grinds himself into you. “You wanna keep that sexy lil thong on? Don’t care?” Joel flicks his eyes up to yours as one of his strong hands slips into the delicate string on the side. 

“You gonna rip it?” You ask with a smirk. He nods silently. “Do it.” Joel purses his lips together and yanks the elastic from the triangle of fabric and then does the same thing with the other side- discarding it on the floor. 

Joel seems just as nervous as you as he wraps one fist around his throbbing length. He strokes himself a couple times as he kneels in front of you. It’s already so hard and… so big. Fuck. Okay. You got this. He’s not doing anything. Just looking at your pussy and his cock he’s stroking right above it. He’s breathing just as heavy as you are. 

“Ready?” Joel flicks his eyes up to yours and you nod. “Gimmie.” Joel taps your hips with his hand and you push your hips up as he reaches forward and grabs two pillows and puts them under your hips. When you set them down, you’re angled up to him. “Perfect.” 

The tip of his cock is so much hotter than you could have ever expected him to be. So fucking hot, it’s like it’s burning you as he traces the outside of your cunt with it. You’re staring at him– watching his cock tease your pussy and you cannot help but wonder who he is teasing more. Himself or you? 

“Fuck me, Daddy.” You whine softly, batting your eyelashes. Joel’s eyes flick up to yours and they are dark and a little scary and he’s got his brows pinched together softly. 

“Shut up, lil brat. Daddy’s doin’ something.” He growls at you, the one hand on your outer thigh strokes you gently and comfortingly as he speaks. Doesn’t grip you or spank you at all. He drops his eyes back down to your dripping center and he sighs softly. “M'Fuckin’...lookin at it. Shut th'fuck up.” He sighs much softer now as he pushes the head of his cock between your folds to drag it up and down the length of your slit. 

“You shut up.” You coo up to him softly, biting your bottom lip. Joel smirks, snorts softly and looks up at you. 

“You like bein’ a lil bratty, bitch?" Joel hisses this question at you angrily, "'Cause this old man fuckin’ loves it.” He smirks, leans down to kiss your forehead before pulling away to watch as he continues to torture you. “Fuckin’ tellin’ me t’shut up. Who’re you? A lil bitch.” Joel speaks softly as the tip of him reaches the entrance. “Fuuuck. Fuck. Okay. Ready? I’m gon’ go slow.” Joel’s eyes can’t leave where you two are about to be joined, honestly, neither can yours. 

“Yeah, please. Put it in me.” You whisper softly and make Joel sigh softly. 

“Say that again.” He demands quietly.

“Put it in me, Daddy. Please.” Your voice is trembling like you might fucking cry from the anticipation of all of this. Been almost close to two months of teasing and licking and fingers. You didn’t even use those toys he got you…not yet. You will. You didn’t want to put anything inside of you before him. 

Joel says nothing as he pushes the tip inside of you. That’s not bad. It goes in with no resistance. He pushes in a little further and there is stretching. A lot of it. Stretching you full. So tight. You close your eyes and let your head fall back. You breathe through that pinching and uncomfortable rasping— pulling inside of you. Pulling you apart. Your pussy was leaking and made it so easy for him to slip into you though, you didn’t resist him, your cunt accept him happily but it still was so full. 

You’re reduced to whimpering through your nose at the new mix of pleasure as the length of him slides across your spongy, raised patch for the first time. It’s…incredible. Fingers are awesome, and toys are cool. 

Joel’s cock is so unyielding, so fucking rigid and hot as it’s stretching you, but when it snakes across that good spot– it’s like silk, smooth and comforting asthe tip of him, or anything ever, kisses your cervix for the first time. It’s a jolt that snaps your eyes open and makes you squeak. Joel’s eyes snap up to yours as his dark patch of pubic hair and the patch right above your slit intermingle as he sinks into you. 

“Lil squeakin’ baby okay?” God the way he fucking talks to you should piss you off. It should make you so fucking mad. You should make him get off of you but you do not because you love it. Joel holds his hips into yours, pressed tightly against you as you adjust to him. Your muscles and walls are clenching and unclenching around him as he delays his pleasure for your comfort. Joel likes it though, you keep doing it even after your cunt stops doing it involuntarily. The tempo change in your squeezing him makes him pull back out of you slowly. 

How can someone be so incredibly soft and hard all at the same time? His whole body. All of it. Soft n’ hard. Fuck. You’re staring up at him while he watches the entire length of him reappear from the interior of you. You see it, your slickness on him, it’s fucking glistening on the throbbing veins and almost purple skin of him. 

“Jesus.” You sigh softly as he pulls everything but the tip from inside you. 

“Fuckin’ tight as hell. Holy shit.” Joel gasps like he had been holding his breath. You sigh and then are reduced to nothing but a moaning mess on the bed as he starts to thrust into you rhythmically. It’s slow and soft. Gentle as to not make you squeak too much, only a little. Your eyes are closed, he’s not telling you to open them. He is leaning over to take on your nipples in his mouth through the sheer, white lace of the bra. He wraps his lips around as much of your breast as he can, sucking it gently as his tongue laps and swirls around your sensitive peak. 

“Oh fu–uck! You can only speak harshly as that mix of pleasure and pain start to mix differently. More stretching and dull aching as his cock moves inside of you– but it’s not as intense or nearly as bad now that you have something constantly moving against that fucking spot. Fuck. He feels so good and warm– hot. He is red, hot steel under the satin, smooth skin of his throbbing dick. “Jeeeesus. Fuck ”

“You like this hard dick Daddy’s givin’ you?” He barks down to you softly, snaps it out of his mouth like you aren’t a melting mess below him. “Yeah you fuckin’ do, sexy fuckin’ brat.” Joel chuckles as a groan escapes his mouth. 

“Y-you like this– fuck– tight pussy– fuuucking god— your lil girl’s givin’ you?” You part choke the words out and then moan some of them. You’re interuppted with bliss as you try and use your voice for him. 

“My fuckin’ god.” Joel’s hips snap into yours— on accident or on purpose you’ll never know– but it feels like all of your bones buzzed all at the same time and every inch of your skin tickles for two seconds until he’s pulling himself away from your cervix and massaging that spot that’ll make you gush on him. You wonder in your euphoria filled brain if he’ll like that– you gushing on him like that and clench your walls down on him even tighter than you thought you could. 

Joel’s whole body jerks gently when you do that and he snaps himself forward again and buzzes your bones and tickles your skin again and it’s… not a terrible feeling. Definitely knew and something you’d have to get used to because when he does it you cannot think for a second after but when you regain your senses he’s already buzzin’ you again with the drooling tip of his cock. You want him to come inside you. Badly. You’ll be fine. It’s the twenty-first century. Emergency contraception works. But then you’re going on the pill so he can do it whenever the fuck he wants. 

“Come in…side me.” Your drawn out whimpering moan makes Joan groan loudly and he is trembling under your touch. You don’t even remember grabbing onto his biceps but you did, sometime during the buzzing you assume. Your fingernails are digging into him and you feel bad, so badly after knowing what you do, but he’s pumping into you quicker now. 

“Dear God.” Joel groans and closes his eyes tight. It feels so good making him do stuff like that. Hearing him moan your little pet name he made up for you. “You want it, Birdie?” His moans are deep and rumble like thunder when they come out of him. You can feel the vibrations from them in his arms. 

“Yeah… I want it…..Claim my pussy….I’m yours Daddy.” You’re keening the words up to him between gasps for air. Where did these high pitched sounds come from? You have never made such noises in your life…not even alone!! He is pushing them out of you as he thrusts inside of you but his sweating body is still trembling, like he is struggling… You think he wants to come, so you try and get him to. “Please Daddy…I beeee-oh fuck– I belong to you.” You whimper as he buzzes you once again. 

“How ya feelin’ Bird?” Joel groans and lets his head fall forward like he is exhausted. “Hu–Hurtin’ still?” He stutters as he withdraws from you slowly. 

“N-nononoo.” You whimper as he thrusts into once more and then holds himself against that blinding, body vibrating stop deep inside you. You’re silenced by this and staring up at him as he tilts his head up to look at you. 

“I gotta…” Joel hangs his head in shakes it in shame, panting softly. “I can’t anymore.” He is still panting and looking up at you again. 

“S-So c-come.” You stutter up to him as body and mind melting tremors course through you. 

“Not talkin’ ‘bout comin’ Birdie.” He adjusts his hands on the bed and rests for a second, wiping his sweat covered brow with the back of one of his hands. “Gotta while ‘fore I do that now…” He’s grinning down at you, his chest– also dripping sweat– is rising and falling as he tries to slow his puffing. “I gotta fuck ya.” He nods. 

“You are?” You can think… a little bit. Not much. 

“No. We’re makin’ love right now.” Joel admits with another shake of his head from side to side. “I wanna fuck you.” Joel nods now, up and down, quickly. “If ya can’t handle it… might gotta take a lil break.” He sighs. “Havin’ trouble controlin’ myself… don’t wanna hurt ya.” He sighs loudy and then hoots like he just has energy and sound inside of him he needs to expel. 

“Like… fuck me real hard?” You dunno. The buzzing. The buzzing is not terrible but it is a lot and he is still doing it right now. Pressing on that little button that lets you know he has arrived at your most inner location. 

“I’ll hold back a lil.” He reassures you but then adds. “Just gotta go harder’n this.” Joel sighs like he is disappointed with himself for having those needs inside of him but it’s kind of turning you on that he can’t control himself with you. Needs to take a break!? He is taking a break right now!

“You’ll stop–”

“Baaaaby.” Joel groans. “Don’t gotta ask. Of course.” He nods quickly. “Never fuckin’ hurt you. ‘Less you ask for it.” Joel snickers. “Then I will.” The tremors are turning into little itchy scratchies inside of you and not so much tickles and vibrations and alarms going off all over your whole body. No, this isn’t too bad. 

“Okay. Fuck me, Old man.” You nod up to him and Joel snickers to himself and leans all the way back so he is on his knees, holding you where your thighs meet your sides at your hip. Your legs are splayed out on either side of him. 

“You just give me a good whack right here–” Joel points to his forearm. “A good one. Don’t grab me, don’t tap. Whack me. I’ll stop n’ we can do it the other way.” He speaks firmly so you’re listing. You’re trying but, still twitching underneath him. He pulls his hips away from yours and you can relax. A deep sigh and almost– a feeling of being empty. Like you’re gaping now that he’s only at the entrance. “Whaddya got’a do?” Joel asks now, catching your watering eyes. 

“Whack.” You choke out after swallowing in a big, noisy gulp. You make Joel snort silently, just his body jerks softly and he smiles. 

“Yer’ pussy is fuckin immaculate, baby girl.” Joel sighs loudly and sinks his hips into yours. Your pubic hairs touch softly before he pulls away and then slams into you with a loud smack of his skin on your skin. 

“Jesus!” You exclaim but do not whack him because your whole body jolts back away from but then he is pulling you by where he has a grip dug into the soft skin on your lower sides where they dip into your leg. Another second long convulsion and flesh rippling titillation. Then another and another. More. It is endless. “Oh my go– Oh. Oh. Daddyyy.” You whine up to him with your eyes shut tight– your one eye hurts so bad but you do not care, the pleasure is everything you wanted it to be. This is amazing and perfect and you’re so glad it’s Joel. So glad he is the one doing this to you for the first time. “Th-Thank y-you.” You whimper as he really fucks you, his hips never slow down. Never cease their forceful driving into you. 

“Thank me again.” Joel barks an order to you through his pleasure. There is more sweat on his brow and he wipes it away with the back of his hand again and then grips you tighter. His chest is red and glistening as he focuses all of his energy and force on you. Right where your groins adjoin for half a second before he leaves and does it all over again. 

“Thank y-you Daddy Joel, fuck! Thank youthankyouu!!” There are tears in your eyes from the bumbling rapture inside of you. They’re rolling down the side of your face and…you might…be sobbing through your shrill, endless ululations as you tell him you’re coming. “It’s happening…. OH god… fuck Daddy… I’m gonna— I’m coming.” 

“Open yer’ fuckin’ eyes, lil girl.” Joel snaps down at you. “Open yer’ mouth.” You don’t even have to open your eyes to know that his mouth is pressed tightly together when he barks down at you. You manage to open them and look up into his eyes as your orgasm washes over you. You don’t even have to open your mouth because it is already hanging agape, waiting for him and what he loves to give you. 

It’s warm on your tongue and upper lip when you receive it both times. He doesn’t spit it this time, he drips it down to you as he slams his body against yours through your orgasm. You swallow it hungrily and then lick your lips to clean off what he over shot the first time. You gush staring up at him and now his jaw drops open and his rhythmic thrusting turn into sloppy, jagged jerking as your gushing juices send him to ecstasy filled release. 

“I’m gonna come,” Joel sighs breathlessly as his hips snap forward two more times and then he holds himself into you. “Fuck! S’mine. You're mine.” Joel nearly shouts down at you while he comes. Your gush flowing out against him as he does it. It’s dripping down the curve and crack of your ass and soaking the pillows below you. “Fuuck. Fuckk. Yer’ my gushin’ Princess.” Joel stutters once as he fills your pussy for the first time. “Daddy’s Princess.”

You do not fuck Joel all night. Your body gives out after that first good fuck. It’s disappointing but…Joel fucked the life out of you. You are dead against the mattress staring up at the ceiling. You honestly can’t even feel anything, your whole pussy is numb and it aches a little. He fucked you. Fucked you so good. He didn’t kill you with his cock, no…

Joel maybe ruined your life though, because how do you ever get fucked… not like that?  

Get fucked by anyone who is not by Mr. Daddy Joel Miller? No. 

He has done something horrible to you and now you want him to do more treacherous things to you. He might be evil , actually. This is what you get for praying to Satan all this time— as a JOKE . Then he sends you this evil man with a tongue that lashes at you in the best, and worst ways possible. 

Your evil, sonofabitch boyfriend is moaning as he sucks his release out of your cunt, licking at your walls now that he has gaped you with his fucking monster cock– what the fuck? It didn’t look as big as it fucking felt inside you.. 

Joel is laying with his head between your legs. He’s been down there this whole time. Just… licking. It’s been… maybe forty-five minutes since he fucked you for the first time. His hands roam across your stomach and caress you gently. His tongue smears his come along your cunt and clit as he swirls around it. It’s the only part of your pussy that feels good anymore. Sucking and lapping at your dripping and gaping hole like he is desperately trying to get back what he gave to you.

“Ohhh.” Is all you have the energy to say. You can only hum a happy, pleasing sound to him and your hand lazily finds his hair and you twirl your fingers around in it mindlessly as he licks you. He’s not even trying to make you come, not even teasing you… just collecting. And once he has his mouth full, he climbs over your lifeless body and nods his chin for you to open your mouth. You do.  

You stare at him the entire time he leans down and spits into your mouth, not letting you do anything before his mouth is on yours. The mix of your gush and his bitter release does something to give you life. You wrap your arms around his neck and hold him to you as your tongues pass that blend of the both of you back and forth. 

Once you're done with all that– you’re looking at him standing at the edge of your bed. You still haven’t moved. Haven’t been able to. 

“We’re good?” Joel asks seriously. 

“What?” You close your eyes and try to imagine an ice pack on your pussy. 

“You still wanna be with me?” Joel sounds nervous. You cannot even open your eyes to look at that stupid slut. 

“Yes.” You snap at him sleepily. “Shut up. You’re the slut.” You point one, almost ded hand at him. 

“What!?” Joel sounds so shocked. “I’m not!” Now he’s offended. You do open your eyes and look at him now. 

“You’re the slut.” You bark at him and then close your eyes again and talk mostly to yourself. “Fucks like that n’ says he’s not a slut? Fuckin’ lair.” You grumble and roll over onto your side. “Slutty old man.” You are so tired. 

“Because I’ve been with a couple ladies??” Joel exclaims and crawls onto the bed beside you. “I’m not a slut.” 

“You are. Callin’ me a slut the first time we hung out. Mr. I Been With Ladies.” You mock him and he chuckles but it sounds like he didn’t really want to. 

“I only been with you since I met ya. Didn’t give my number out.” Joel teases you back and touches your sides. 

“You’re still a slut and we’re talking in the morning about why you didn’t just leave your ex-wife.” You snap, remembering that you are still actually kind of angry with him. 

“Uuuggghhh.” Joel groans loudly. “I’ll fuckin’ tell ya right now. Then we’re never talkin’ ‘bout her ass again, got it?” He snaps at you. 

“Dish.” You snap back. 

“We got married ‘fore I started my company. I was worried she was gon’ try an’ take all of it. Bankrupt me. Take my house. Eventually– I was worried she’d leave with Sarah. So I just let her hit me.” Joel is… not yelling but he is– excited? Speaking quickly and with gusto. “I was too embarrassed to ask for help, Birdie... Who could help me? Who was I gon’ fuckin' ask? My mom is dead. My dad should'a been, at that point. Tommy is just barely done bein’ a kid… so? I stayed. N’ I fucked up.”

“I’m sorry.” You whisper shyly.

“Don’t fuckin’ be sorry fer' me, you didn’t fuckin' do shit!” Joel exclaims and then his eyes soften. “I’m sorry. I get loud when I’m angry, I’ll work on that shit too. Jesus Christ.” Joel looks at the floor. “No one knows ‘bout my ex. Just her and I. I never told anyone else. Not even Tommy or Sarah.” Joel turns his head to look at you. “Like to keep it that way.”

“Why…not tell people what she did? So they know?” You wrinkle your nose. 

“‘Cause then they’ll know I did it to her. N’ all they’ll see is me… hittin’ his wife. Even though it was only once n’ barely a tap– I did it. I hit her, n’ I hate myself fer’ that.” He admits sadly. “Our dad was fucked up towards the end, but he raised us better than that.” 

“What…was wrong with—” You start but Joel shakes his head. 

“Not gettin’ into that… not now. Maybe not ever. It just wasn’t good. Real bad. He struggled.” Joel says curtly. 

“Alright… I also had an asshole dad, too—” You start but he cuts you off quickly and with a sharp tongue

“My dad wasn’t a fuckin’ asshole, got it?” Joel narrows his eyes on yours. “Not an asshole. I can’t talk ‘bout it, Bird. I don’t like to.” 

“I don’t like talking about my Dad but it fuckin’ helps.” You roll your eyes at him. “Not keepin’ all that shit in…kinda fucking helps sometimes. So, maybe you should go see a therapist. I talk to one all the time.” 

“I’m not goin’ to see no fuckin’ shrink.” Joel scoffs again. He's such a fucking man. Ugh. 

“Whatever. You don’t have to, but it does help and it is good for you. I meant what I said last night… I won’t let you aplogize next time if you ever speak to me like that again…” 

“I know… but now we gotta talk ‘bout something else…” Joel sighs and turns to you. "I was gonna bring it up...n' then you said you were a virgin...n' I thought I was gon' scare you away if I told you the things I like...'cause I don't need 'em. Not at all. I just like 'em...and they're not all...nice." He speaks cautiously-- the taming a rabid animal voice is back and you're shaking.

“What?” You groan but he places his hand on your thigh besides your bruised hand. You almost pull away but it's hard to resist the warmth of him. He's...so handsome. His brown eyes are locked on to yours, his hair is all messy from getting pulled and tugged on by you-- it's sticking in all directions and you have to stop yourself from smirking. He didn't clean up his facial hair at all this morning before work, so he's scruffier than normal. You could reach out and touch him, but it's hard because he's going to tell you scary things right now.

“The things I like can get a lil…” He pauses and searches for the word he needs to use. “Bein’ on the receiving end of what I like can fuck with yer’ head sometimes… if you don’t know yer’ cared for or get mistreated. I do care ‘bout ya. N' I'm sorry 'bout last night.” Joel stresses this point. 

“Okay…” You’re hesitant because what the fuck is your slutty, evil boyfriend talking about. Are you going to have to kick him in the chest like Jackie Harris that one time? Break up with him?

“I like ya more n’ more every day– but I am jus’ a big, strong guy that wants to Dominate ya.”

“Like you have been?” You ask and Joel nods, adding to your statement.

 “N’ then I wanna take ya out… treat ya — ‘cause I can and like to … I call ya sweet things so you know that when I say that— eh, it’s not a show..or fake. I like makin’ you feel all cute n’ special– cause you are, but also ‘cause s’just what I like…”

“Uh… then what?” You blink and swallow audibly. 

“I turn ‘round n’ humiliate you while my cocks inside you.” Joel says simply. “Make you feel naughty n’ dirty. Use yer’ lil fuckin’ pussy however I want, use you. Be real mean to ya sometimes…”

“This is an excuse so you can yell at me?” You roll your eyes and almost think about telling him to leave but he rubs the outside of his pinky against yours. 

“Never. I’m gon’ work on that. I will. Gettin’ angry n’ sayin’ mean shit. I will.” Joel speaks so calmly and evenly. “I just wanna call ya names in the bedroom. Do naughty stuff in there… sometimes let it playfully carry into our relationship too”

“Like? I need you to expla—” Joel hooks his pinky with yours and looks down at it. 

“Remember my promise to you?” He asks quietly. You nod. “Keep that in mind n’ know… that’s how I wanna treat you ninety-nine percent of the time.” 

“The other one perce--?” You ask fearfully but he cuts you off and is ready to tell you.

“Call you terrible fuckin' things, worthless n’ stupid.” Joel whispers softly. “Spit on ya. Fuck you real hard n’ fill your holes– all of ‘em.” His eyes never leave yours. “Fuck you anywhere…everywhere I want.” Joel is still so calm. 

You’re fuckin’ trembling. This sounds..equal parts horrifying and also incredible. Sexy and scary. Right up your alley— dark and horrifying alley. 

“What if I don’t want that? Getting called fuckin’ stupid every day?” You wrinkle your nose. That sounds like it could be... tiring? Mentally? But, you're not stupid and...have a therapist. So, this is something you might explore but... you dunno.

“Don’t gotta. We can just keep doin’ what we’re doin’. I'm used to it bein' normal." Joel shrugs his shoulders. "I enjoy this though. Don't need it-- like it. Like exploring. Like pushin' mine and yer' boundaries... s'kinky." Joel nods then frowns "I haven't been with many who like it-- s'why I'm used to it normal, lil rough. Nothin' craz--"

“Slut!” You snap, cutting him off and Joel snickers softly. 

“Maybe… not anymore though.” He smirks. “I just wanna fuckin’ ruin you, baby girl. Only you.” Joel Miller whispers this to you and your pussy (you thought it was broken, really broken) twinges when he says it. “I mean it. I like it rough…but if you’d let me. I’d like to… try things with ya. Keep showin' you things like I have been.” 

“What if I don’t like some of the things you show me?” Your interest outweighs your fear. 

“‘Kay, now yer’ asking good questions…” He smirks at you and pulls your hand into his lap by your pinky. “Yer’ in control in all this, babe.” He nods. “You don’t like it, I stop. I like watchin’ ya squirm n’ cry… but for the right reasons. I don’t wanna…really hurt you— I do. I wanna spank ya and whip yer’ ass ‘till its red. Smack ya a ‘round a lil…fuck you real good when I do it. Make ya feel good, give you pleasure with yer' pain, baby.” His voice is so comforting that it’s calming even listening talk about he wants to mildly abuse you in the bedroom. 

“I have to decide right now?” You blink at him. 

“You..don’t ever gotta decide nothin’. I like that shit, but I’m not gon’ die without it. I'm just warnin’ ya so I don’t take things too far…on accident or… in misunderstanding.” He leans in and kisses you on the forehead gently. 

“Okay… we can talk about things first, always?” You look up at him and he’s already nodding his head. 

“Do you wanna change outta that lil white thang and go to bed? We’ll getcha coffee and a new phone in the morning?” He whispers. 

“Yeah.”

Then Joel undresses you and gives you the comfiest pair of shorts out of your dresser. Then this stupid, evil Red Devil goes into his ‘spend the night bag’ and gets you a clean t-shirt of his to wear. 

“I have some…” You whisper up to him, but he motions for you to lift your arms and he slips it on for you. 

“I know. Don’t care– want you in this.” He leans down and kisses your lips softly and for a long time before he runs upstairs and performs his little night time routine here at your house. Checking all the doors and windows. 

Joel is…actually perfect? No. He’s angry and is a dick and is making up for that. Unless you already forgave him? You dunno. You honestly can’t even care because you’re asleep before Joel even comes back.

The next morning is interesting. It takes a lot of convincing from your boyfriend. 

“Just for me.” He nods. You shake your head. “My. Eyes. Only.” He nods. 

“Why?” You’re smirking.

“Picture it, okay?” Joel stands besides you and holds his hand out in front of him like he’s trying to get you to see what he’s seeing. “Me…in my truck at work…watchin’ it..thinkin’ ‘bout you… touching mysel—”

“You do that at work!?” You exclaim. He chuckles and smacks your ass. 

“Uh, if I had this yes– I would.” He is already getting his phone out of his jeans from last night. 

“No one’s gonna see it?” You blink at him. Joel scoffs. 

“I’m not sharin’ this with anyone. You fuckin’ nuts?” He pulls a chair up to the end of the bed and messes around with his phone. ‘S’fer me. Me alone.” 

Now, Joel is laying in bed with you. He’s behind you with your back to his chest. Your legs are spread over his and his hard cock is pressed against your back. You're grinding yourself against him, massaging his cock between your bodies as his fingers work on your clit. 

“You like this naughty shit?” he asks softly in your ear. You nod and can only focus on breathing heavily, trying not to look directly into his phone that he set up on a chair at the end of the bed. “Say it.” He growls in your ear. His two thickest and longest fingers are just circling your clit slowly and lazily. 

“I like being naughty, Daddy.” You mewl quietly. Joel’s other hand is gripping one of your tits and thumbing the stiff peak as he rocks his hips up against you gently, moving his body against yours as you drag your body up and down against his slightly. Just an inch or two in each direction. Giving Joel just enough pressure and friction and movement on his throbbing cock between your ass and on your lower back. 

“You like that I need this?” Joel growls, moving his head to the other side of yours now, kissing across your shoulder and up your neck as your sweating bodies glide across each other. “ Gotta have you like this in my pocket, lil girl.” Joel whispers. “So I can see this pretty pussy.” While Joel speaks rubs all four fingers across your cunt slowly. 

“I love it.” You moan softly. 

“You want Daddy to give your pussy a good slap?” He coos in your ear. Honestly, not really. But, you’re going to let him do whatever he wants to you. 

“Please don’t hurt me, Daddy.” You whine nervously. Is he gonna smack it like he did your ass? Joel’s breath hitches in his chest and you feel it happen behind you. His hips buck up into your back gently. “Slap it soft. ” You whisper. Joel sighs and rubs your clit quickly with his four stiff fingers– so quickly. He’s putting so much effort into it, his body stiffens below yours and he leans forward slightly to put more pressure behind his rubbing. 

You are moaning and writhing, eyes closed as he quickly brings you right to that edge. When you’re almost there he pulls his hand away and swiftly brings them down onto your red, slick and puffy cunt lips. It focuses it to the top of your mound where your nerve bundle is. It is a different sensation. The hard, fast, sudden pressure and shock of the slap on your clit makes you moan, it doesn't even hurt at all. 

“Do it again, Daddy.” You press yourself into him and turn your head so your closed eyes are pressed into his neck as he leans over you the best he can. 

“Awhh, the cute, pathetic, lil girl likes gettin’ her pussy slapped? Course you do, ya naughty lil bitch.” Joel laughs softly. "Look at the camera, talk to it." He growls into your ear and gives your mound another soft smack and it’s wet and audible. You turn your head forward and rest it against his shoulder as he lens in and presses his lips to your cheek, kissing you softly. Then he gives you another tight rasp on your pussy. And another. He’s doing it so rapidly, slapping and swatting your clit and not hard enough to hurt, it’s…so good? So fucking good for some reason. Joel and you are still working together, your glistening bodies sliding and slipping against each other. 

“Fuck. I do like it.” You murmur to the camera, your eyes are still clenched and now, you're rocking your hips up to meet his quick, noisy— more than patting but he’s not spanking your cunt like he did last night. The force all comes from his wrist, not his shoulder. It’s incredible and almost reminds you of his shower head but not as wet or warm. Joel growls softly against your cheek and presses his forehead to the side of your skull with slight force. 

"Louder. I wanna hear it." He snaps softly into the soft skin just below your cheekbone. He is grinding up into your back. "I wanna hear you fuckin' say it. Mean it." It's so fierce when he says it, that it almost startles you but... you just talked about all this so you know it's...just a thing. Not mean, not scary. 

"I fuckin' love when you spank my cunt, Daddy. So fuckin' much." You speak with force and it comes out in moans as he chuckles against your cheek and rubs your clit now in between those little, tight rasps of his fingers against you.

"There it is..." Joel kisses your cheek softly as his own moans start to slip from his mouth as he holds you around the waist with his other arm now, moving your body up and down against the front of him. You can feel his movements becoming more desperate as you stroke his cock with ever single move you make. 

"Oh fuck...yes...please don't... stop.The light breeze he makes with his fingers gives you goosebumps on your inner thigh as your legs begin to tremble. “I think– oh god– I… think–” You’re cut off and choked by pleasure as that real bliss and ‘letting go’ feeling builds. 

“Yep. Do it. Gush for Daddy, baby. I wanna see it.” Joel moans loudly as your body moves against him more desperately, searching for more than just his slapping fingers even though he is bringing you there doing that. “C’mon baby. Yer' such a naughty fuckin' girl. Such a pathetic, lil, gushin' girl.” He whispers in your ear. "Yer' fuckin' amazing." The fact that he wants a video of you doing that so he can watch whenever he wants is what sends you there– it’s what makes you gush. 

He gets a clear shot of it happening as his abuse of your clit never ends. He spanks your pussy through your gush and sometimes his fingers slip down so he can touch it as it comes out of you. You’re still moving against him, now shaking and moaning loudly against his neck. You can feel his body working against yours for his own release and you push back against him to give him more pressure. When you do that, he groans softly and pulls his hand away from your spasming pussy. Then his fingers are inside your mouth. 

“Suck.” He moans as his body jerks underneath yours. You lap at his fingers hungrily and taste yourself on him and moan softly. You part his digits with your tongue and run it down the length of each extremity in your mouth, swirling and lapping at his knuckles and then flicking your tongue against the web between his fingers. You’re doing this and Joel is coming between the two of you. His release is trapped between his stomach and your back. “Such a fuckin’ good girl.” 

Joel sits you up and crawls from behind you and grabs his phone off the chair at the end of the bed. He sits beside you and starts to play the video. 

“I don’t wanna watch that. It’s for you.” You roll your eyes as the sounds of your moaning and whimpering fill the room. It makes you blush as Joel teases his cock again, watching what you two just did. He gets halfway through it with a big dumb smile on his face before he turns it off and turns his smile to you now. 

“Why? S’hot as hell. Jeeesus. Yer’ fuckin’ naughty n’ sexy. I like it.” Joel smirks and leans down to kiss you. “We’re makin’ more.” He teases. 

“Fine. I like seeing you—” You point at his face and then to his stomach covered in his milky release. “-- smiling and covered in cum. So, fine.” You blush and he touches your cheek gently.

“I want to do the naughtiest things with you.” Joel whispers. You blink. 

“Like what?” You pur up to him as he rubs his thumb across your lips gently. 

“You’ll see.”

(sorry it took me so long, i'll try and be better.)

tag list: @immyowndefender @korikolove @untamedheart81 @fanficlover1414, @creepycorbeaux @ohmillerbaby @rosebuds-and-moonlight @harriedandharassed

[korgidorgi]

Alex Danvers x Tattooist!Reader

Word Count: 6,361

Warnings: homophobic slurs, tattoo needles

Summary: Alex keeps scheduling tattoo appointments with you ;3

I didn't mean for it to be this long but my fingers kept typing. Anyways, enjoy!

Also, @spoodermankid, i thought i'd tag you since you commented on my teaser post :3

Your phone dings, indicating a text. You check the notification on your Lock Screen. It’s a DM from your instagram. You swipe it open, looking at the message. They ask about your tattoo service. You shoot them a reply, including some information about your rates and types of art you do, and what you need from them in order for you to tattoo them. In return, they send some photos and description of the tattoo location and size. The two of you come to an agreement and decide a date for the appointment.

That day came slowly around the corner. The last few clients have been rather unpleasant. You sigh, leaning your head on your hand as you scribble some sketches down on a sheet for a client. You flip your pencil over and roughly erase a couple lines that don’t look right and return to scribbling madly. The door swinging open and a small chime alerts you to another client. You glance up at the door, watching as a tall woman walks in. Her eyes scan the room before landing on you. Her auburn hair is a touch messy and she nervously moves it out of the way. You raise your head up, your full attention on her. You look her up and down, taking in her dark outfit and short, auburn hair. Her tank top reveals her muscles as she tucks her jacket under her arm.

“Hey,” you greet, “welcome to the shop.”

“Hi, I’m here for an appointment for 3:30?” She asks.

You look down at your appointment notes. “Alex, right?”

The woman nods, fidgeting with her fingers.

“Okay, have you done this before?” You ask her.

“No,” she shakes her head. “First time.”

“Alright, “well, you’re in good hands today,” you offer her a smile. “Can I see some ID?”

Alex reaches for her wallet, pulling out her ID and handing it over to you. You accept it, running it through a scanner and printing a sheet for her to sign. You hand both back over to her for her to fill out.

“Do you have any allergies I should be aware of?” You ask. “Shellfish..?”

“Uh, no.” She answers.

“Okay, cool,” you respond.

You go over the size and location with her again, showing her some printouts of her design. She selects the one she likes best and you proceed to make the transfer stencil. You watch as her nervousness begins to slowly melt away as you talk to her.

“If you wouldn’t mind following me to my studio,” you get up and lead her down a hall of studios to the last one on the left.

“You can set your stuff down here.” You gesture to a corner near the door. “Just take a seat on the chair when you’re ready.”

Meanwhile you slide on your gloves and begin to set up your tattoo machine and open the ink caps you’ll be using. Alex takes a seat on the chair, settling into her spot.

“Can I see the area?” You ask. “I need to clean it and then I’m gonna apply the stencil.”

She turns her shoulder to you for you to apply the stencil. You wipe down the area and go to apply the blue stencil.

“Right here?” You hover over the area. “Or do you need it slightly somewhere else?”

“No, there’s fine,” she confirms.

You place the paper and smooth it over a few seconds before removing it, leaving a blue stencil behind on her skin.

“Go check the mirror and see if you like it there,” you smile at her and point to the mirror.

You watch her approach the mirror and look at the placement near her collarbone.

“I like that,” she confirms, her hands tracing the area around the stencil.

She turns back to you, pausing until you gesture for her to take a seat again.

You get ready and begin tattooing her. As soon as the needle first touches her skin, she winces slightly at the sensation. You pull away, looking up at her. She nods her head, taking a deep breath and letting it out. She gives you a nervous smile as you go ahead once more. This time, she’s prepared for it.

“So, uh,” she begins, “do you enjoy tattooing?”

“Yeah, there’s just something about watching peoples reactions to their imaginations coming true,” you answer. “It also keeps me in a creative mindset, a release I guess.”

She hums in response. “You ever get bad clients?”

“Yep,” you quip, nodding your head. “My past week has been full of them.”

“Jees,” she sighs.

“I’m gonna be honest, I was hoping you were a woman,” you continue. “I can’t handle another man right now.”

“I feel you,” she agrees.

As you continue with the small tattoo, the two of you make pleasant conversation. She tells you about her job as an FBI agent until you finish. You set your machine down and begin wiping down the area.

“Alright, that’s all done,” you announce, throwing out the ink cap. “I’m gonna apply some ointment and a second skin.”

She nods along to your procedure.

“Don’t leave it on for more than two days, after which you can begin to apply some ointment the next day.” You instruct. “Make sure to wash it twice a day, apply the ointment, and it should be healed within three weeks.”

You give her a satisfied smile as she goes to inspect it.

“Thank you!”

“Of course, any time, Alex,” you grin at her. “I also have some snacks if you wanna take one.”

You turn to pull out a drawer full of various candies. You watch her eyes widen at your stash before she roots through it to pick out a candy. Once she has her candy and has grabbed up her stuff, you guide her to the lobby and bid her farewell.

You slide down into the seat, resting your head in your hand, propped on the desk. You let out a small, satisfied sigh.

“Oh, I know that look,” you hear your coworker, Becca, state from across the lobby. Her arms are crossed over her chest and she’s leaning against the frame of the hallway.

“What look?” You sit up, crossing your arms in return.

“You saw a hot woman,” she smirks, “and now you’re fawning.”

Your hand flies over your heart. “Am not!”

“Mhmm…” she slowly nods, an eyebrow raised at you. “Whatever you say, Y/N.”

•••

A few weeks go by before you get an instagram DM by none other than Alex Danvers. You open the message, reading it and responding. She wants another tattoo, so she sends you her ideas and some pictures of what she wants. She asks for your input and what you would do if you were getting it. You advise her that its her tattoo and she determines what she wants on her body. Once again, you two agree on a date and time for the appointment.

“Can you turn this gay shit off?” He huffs at you.

“What vibe do you want, my guy?” You get up and head to your iPod, rolling your eyes.

“Something that’s not so faggy,” he retorts.

“Sorry, mate,” you interrupt, “we’re not using that kind of language in my studio.”

“What?” He snorts. “Gay? Shit? Fag?”

“Yeah, not in my studio,” you shake your head at him.

He just huffs in response, going quiet in his seat. You turn back to your iPod, finding a playlist you’ve put together just for people with his attitude. These people don’t listen to the lyrics, so you play it. You then slide your gloves on, sitting in your stool to tattoo him.

“Can you give me your arm?” You ask.

“You’re not touching me,” he quips.

“I can’t tattoo you if you won’t let me,” you respond.

“Fine,” he huffs yet again.

You begin tattooing him, beginning on the top of his forearm. He wanted a dragon slithering around. The banter from him continues, wasting your tattooing time. He keeps flinching away, telling you to stop, and interrupting your art by going to grab his water bottle with the arm your tattooing. With every word he speaks, he shortens your fuse bit by bit. You’re nearly done with the lineart, flipping his arm to the underside and tattooing the dragons tail. The moment you touch the underside of his arm, he pulls back violently.

“Ow!” He screams. “Bitch!”

“Sir, I’m telling you one last time,” you glare at him, “respect me and my space, or I’m not tattooing you.”

“You can’t deny my service,” he continues yelling, “I’m fucking paying you!”

“Okay, y’know what—” you put your machine down and taking off your gloves— “you can leave now.”

“You can’t kick me out!” He screeches.

“I’m your artist, this is my space, and you’re being an asshole.” You argue.

“You’re the asshole!” He continues. “You’re playing faggy music in a faggy shop in a faggy studio!”

“Get the fuck out.” You point towards the door of your studio.

“NO!”

You get up, leaving the studio yourself. He grabs his stuff and angrily follows you.

“Where do you think you’re going???” He storms out behind you.

“Away from you,” you answer. “Our session is done!”

“No it’s not,” he bellows, “get back here, bitch!”

You continue walking away from him, not paying him any mind.

“This is why I don’t let women tattoo me!” He screeches, throwing his hands up.

“Hey, if you want to take a while and come back later when you’re not a hater, I can finish your tattoo,” you offer. “But you’ve wasted time and I have a client coming in any minute now so you can take your attitude and get the fuck out.”

“Fuck you, bitch!” He storms towards you. “Fuck you and your fucking stupid ass faggy shop and your stupid fucking bitch coworkers and—“

“Since you want to be such a hater,” you whip back around to him, “I’m not a big dick manly alpha man, and you just got tattooed by a lesbian!”

He stands in his place, his jaw dropped in offense. He finds his composure and tries to speak again, however, you cut him off.

“So why don’t you walk yourself out of this faggy store.”

Between you and your coworker staring at him, he finally lets up, grumbling as he angrily shoves past your next client, kicks the door open, and leaves. You sigh, deflating and taking a seat in the desk chair. You look back up at the person he shoved past.

“Alex!” You greet, a tired smile taking over your features at her presence.

“Hey,” she returns, “sorry about all… that.”

You wave her off, “It happens more than you think. I’m used to it at this point.”

She hums, shaking her head. “Still, doesn’t mean it should happen at all.

“How long were you there?” You ask.

“Long enough,” she breathes. “Sorry, I also came a bit early.”

“Don’t apologize,” you shake your head at her, “its fine.”

You take Alex through the whole check in process, taking her ID and giving her papers to sign. Once done, you lead her back and get setup in your studio. You place the stencil and she confirms its placement and you get started with tattooing her.

“Do people like him happen often?” She asks.

“Not super often,” you shrug, “but enough to make you contemplate quitting.”

“You think about quitting?” She asks, surprise evident in her tone. “Not seriously,” you admit, “but sometimes people, like him, piss you off so much and make you feel like shit.”

“That’s not fair to you,” she states, her eyebrows narrowing.

“It is what it is,” you sigh.

The room is silent, other than the hum of the machine as you work on her body art.

“By the way,” she smirks, “I like being tattooed by a lesbian.”

You let out a small chuckle, shaking your head and glancing up at her.

“I’m glad.”

You continue with the tattoo, the two of you finding comfortable conversation in the meantime. Once you finish, you apply the ointment and second skin and go over the aftercare instructions with her. You both walk into the lobby together.

“Thank’s for being a good client,” you acknowledge her.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She nudges your arm with hers. “You’re the best tattoo artist.”

You chuckle at her compliment. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“C’mon, give yourself some credit,” she encourages.

“I’m your only tattoo artist,” you tilt your head towards her, driving your point further.

“But,” she tuts at you, “you’re the best one.”

You shake your head, taking a seat on the desk.

“Hey, I’ve still got some time to kill,” Alex states, “if you don’t have anything going on, would you mind if I stuck around and chatted a bit?”

“Sure,” you accept, smiling at her.

You hop off the deck, going around to open a cabinet full of your personal snacks.

“Want any?” You offer to her.

She points to one and you grab it for her. You return to her, handing the snack over.

“C’mon, we can chat back in my studio,” you usher her back to your studio.

The two of you chat for a while before Alex has to go. She bids you farewell before disappearing out the door and down the street.

•••

Business is slow for the next month and a half, allowing you to relax a bit more and de-stress from ridiculous customers. Alex sends you pictures of her tattoo in the healing process, which you applaud her for taking good care of. You still spend a lot of time in the studio, taking walk-ins here and there. You sit at the lobby desk more than anyone else in the studio because of your slow business.

The door swings open, the chime alerting the store to someones presence. You look up, recognizing the auburn haired woman.

“Back again so soon?” You quip to Alex, resting your chin on your hands.

You smirk at her from your side of the desk and watch as another woman enters the shop.

“Yep, and I brought my sister this time,” she beams at you.

She hands you her and her sisters ID to you.

“We’re hoping to get matching tattoos!” The blonde announces, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Oh,” you hum, turning to the scanner, “you better not be getting each others names on you.”

“Oh god—“

“It’s a curse,” you playfully sigh at her. “I swear it. Any tattoo artist will too.”

Briefly, you turn to the computer and plunk in some commands for the forms needed. You then perch on the desk, waiting for the printer to work its magic. You look back at the two.

“Well, we’re not getting each others names,” Alex states, failing to hide a chuckle from you.

“Well, what were you two thinking?” You ask, grabbing a few freshly printed papers for them to sign. You extend the warm papers and their IDs back to them.

“We were thinking small,” Alex starts, glancing at her sister.

The blonde interrupts her, “I’d get the sun and Alex would get the earth!”

“We were thinking on our wrists,” Alex turns her hand over, motioning to the spot on the underside of her wrist.

“Alright,” you nod, “do you have designs picked out yet?”

“Yep!” The sister chirps.

“Alright, if you two could sign these for me,” you bring your knees up on top of the desk as you spin around.

You hand them the forms required for the tattoos. Alex pulls out her phone, searching it for something.

“I’ll send these to you,” she says, glancing up at you briefly.

Seconds later, your phone buzzes, letting you know you got her message. You open the message, resting on your hand on the desk and leaning back on it. The designs are very simple, just lineart. They’re cute. Like Alex, you think to yourself.

“They’re cute.” You smile, looking over the simple designs.

“Thanks, Kara picked them,” Alex replies.

You let the two of them finish up while you proceed to download the images and print them on the stencil paper.

“Alex talked me into it,” Kara adds.

You let out a small, humorous snort, grabbing the stencils from the printer.

“Of course she did,” you chuckle.

You fully swing around and drop off the desk next to Alex, stencils in hand.

“C’mon to the back,” you wave them with you, leading them to your small studio room.

The two of them follow you and watch you put on some gloves and begin to organize your tools. You sway your body to the soft beat of the song playing quietly through some speakers in the room.

“Who’s going first?” You ask, opening a box of inks and needles.

“Me!” Kara exclaims. “I’m gonna get squeamish if I don’t.” She laughs nervously.

“First time, right?” You inquire, spinning on your stool, stencil in hand.

“Yeah,” she admits.

“Alright. Well, this will not be bad.” You reassure her. “Have you been scratched by a cat before?”

“Uh, no.” She shyly admits.

“Well, if you’ve ever been scratched by something like brambles or something, it would feel like that.”

You grab your machine and the needle.

“Are you nervous about needles?” You ask.

“Only if they’re stabbing me.”

“Okay, well, the needle I’m using is a very fine needle. It’s going to stab your skin, but it’s nothing like being stabbed with a shot or a knife.” You hold the small needle up for her to see. "It’s just injecting the ink into your cells.”

“Okay..” she sits on the table.

“Which wrist?” You ask, pulling a rolling tray with you.

You open the small ink cup, placing it next to your machine. Kara lifts her right arm, turning it over for you to see. A green stone bracelet adorns her wrist.

“Do you wanna take the bracelet off for this?” You ask.

“No, I can just slide it out of the way.” She responds nervously.

“What kinda stones?” You ask. “Emerald? Some sort of sapphire?”

“Yeah, emerald,” she answers, playing with it.

You let her pull it out of the way as you wash the area and place the stencil in its spot. You take the paper away, leaving the blue ink on her skin. She confirms the location. You grab your tattoo gun and turn on the machine. The soft buzz fills the room as you gently lower the nose of it to her skin. She flinches at the contact but eventually eases at the sensation. You begin the tattoo, the needle gliding over her skin leaving the black ink exactly where you need it. You work slow enough to get the lines perfect, and quick enough as to not subject her to the sensation more than she needs to. Before long, you’re done. You wipe the leftover ink away from her skin and gently wash the fresh wound. Once you apply some ointment and a second skin, you scoot back.

“What do you think?” You tilt your head at her.

“I love it!” She confirms.

She promptly shows it to Alex, letting her look over your simple handiwork. She hums in content, a smile gracing her features.

“Alright,” you clap your hands, “aftercare.” Kara looks up at you.

“Since your sister has gotten some before, she can help you,” You say. “Don’t leave the second skin on for more than two days. It’s best to take it off around 24 hours after your tattoo. For the next 5-ish days, wash it gently with antibacterial soap and water twice a day. You can also use a soft ointment on it on day 2. Once it’s done flaking, you can add moisturizer to keep it hydrated and healthy. It should be fully healed within two to four weeks. I’ll send you both home with the stuff.”

“Okay, thank you!” Kara exclaims.

You stand, nodding your head at her. You turn to toss your gloves and grab new ones to reset your station. Upon finding your box of inks empty, you climb the desk to reach a high cabinet.

“Do you need any help?” Alex offers, stepping towards you.

“It’s fine,” you assure her, focusing on your task. “Go sit your pretty self down.”

You wince at what just came out of your mouth, opting to pretend it didn’t just happen. Kara shoots her sister a knowing glance behind your back.

You hear her move to sit in the chair and you let out a small breath you’d been unknowingly holding.

After grabbing a new box of ink caps, you return to the floor and set up your station.

Alex offers you her left wrist, bare of any bracelets. You clean the area and prep it for the tattoo. Removing the stencil paper from her skin, you discard it and turn your machine on.

Tracing the stencil, the ink from your machine stains her skin. The music on in the background makes the silence comfortable as you and your clients vibe. Soon enough you’ve finished her tattoo and are cleaning it up and applying the second skin.

“All done,” you announce, stepping back from your work.

You begin to put your stuff away and discard the needles and ink caps again. Meanwhile, Alex shows her earth to Kara. You lead them to the front desk and scoot yourself over the top of it once again.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Alex offers the money for the tattoos over the desk.

“Anytime, Alex,” you wink at her as you accept the cash from her.

You watch a soft pink dust her cheeks. You focus back on counting the money and counting the change to return to her.

“Thanks for coming in, Kara,” you bid farewell to her. “See you next time, Alex.”

“Bye, Y/N!” Kara waves.

“See you,” Alex follows.

•••

It’s been a couple months since you tattooed the sisters. Alex had sent you pictures of the fully healed tattoos of the two of their wrists next to each other. You’d responded, noting how clear and healthy the tattoos both look. You’re glad they both enjoy them.

Your appointments were completely booked for a good chunk of the month. While you wracked in quite a bit of money, creating multiple works to the same high standards was beginning to take a toll on you. The appointments finally let up a bit, allowing some breathing room. One guy was quite persistent even after being denied a tattoo by you. He began blowing up your phone until you blocked him. He even went as far as making multiple instagram accounts to message you. You finally got him to shut up last week.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You set your drink down and drag it out, dreading the message. Upon looking at the message display on your screen, your heart gives a little flutter. Alex’s instagram user displays on the alert. You immediately open it, reading her text.

Hey, it’s been a while. How have you been? Anyways, I’ve decided on another tattoo if you’d want to do it. Might need your help with the final look.

She’s attached a few images to the message. One of her own sketch and a few reference images full of flowers and snakes.

You begin typing but immediately stop and rid the keyboard when you see her typing animation display.

I was thinking hip and thigh area. Sorry my artist skills aren’t the best. Take ur time with your sketch! No rush!

You begin typing again, fingers flying over the keyboard.

Of course! I’d be happy to! I’ll come up with a few slightly different designs. I’ll send them when I finish and u can choose which one :)

Awesome! Thank you so much! :)

You smile at your phone, thinking for a moment before typing again.

*Also, I’d been a bit swamped with commissions but they seem to have let up a bit. There’s also this asshole who won’t leave me alone because I refused to do his tattoo—*

You pause your typing, thinking about what you’re about to send. You begin to delete some of it before changing your mind.

As to how I’ve been, I’d been swamped with commissions but it’s seemed to slow now. There’s also this guy who didn’t like being told No about a tattoo How about urself? How have u been?

The two of you text back and forth a bit about your lives since last seeing each other. She tells you about her FBI job and the coworkers getting on her nerves, and about how her sister loves to flaunt their tattoos to their friends. You tell her about the annoying guy who won’t leave you alone and tell her there have been a few changes to the shop.

•••

Three days pass and you’ve completed four versions of what Alex was asking for. You send her the final photos of them and she decides on them. The two of you also decide on a price and an appointment date and time within the week.

You sit on the front desk casually watching the new shop fish swimming around their tank. The small, striped tiger barbs chase each other around the tank, weaving around the driftwood and plants. The other tetras remain calm, schooling together and minding their business. A small school of cory catfish sift through the sand and plant stratum substrate.

The door opening steals your attention. You look over and see Alex entering the studio. You offer her a smile, which she returns.

“Hey, good to see you back,” you greet.

“It feels good to be back,” she returns.

She swiftly hands you her ID and you promptly scan it and print her paperwork for her to sign and hand both back over to her. She pockets her ID and expertly fills the form out, meanwhile you print the stencil. She hands her form back over to you. You put the form away and hop off the desk, beginning to lead her back.

“The fish tank is new,” she observes.

“May or may not have been my idea,” you cheekily shrug, grinning at the 50 gallon setup.

“Looks amazing,” she awes at the setup.

“Thank you,” you throw a smile over your shoulder at her. “I’ve been planning it for a while now, just needed the money.”

You get her settled in your studio and you look through your various playlists to set as background music. You select one of your indie playlists, allowing the music to softly play a song by beabadoobee. You begin to prep for her tattoo, sliding gloves on and opening packages of needles and inks.

“You got your own studio fish too?” She inquires, moving over to the 5 gallon tank that houses a new betta and shrimp duo.

“Yeah, I had some leftover cash from the big tank,” you state. “Decided I needed a friend in here.”

She coos at the little flamboyant fish as he swims near the surface, looking for food. You set the chair into a recline for Alex to lay down for her tattoo.

“Gotta lay down for this one, Flower Girl,” you pat the chair- now table- for her.

She bites back a grin, opting to chew on her bottom lip at your nickname for her.

“Also, lose the pants,” you instruct, your face immediately heating up.

“I- uh, I need to be able to access the, uh, area,” you stutter out.

She smirks at you, obliging to your instructions. You look away, allowing her some privacy.

“There’s uh,” you stutter, “there’s a blanket over there if you want.”

You point over at the burrito print throw blanket in a basket full of additional various blankets. You can hear her shuffle and you occupy yourself in throwing together your tattoo tray. You get the stencil ready.

“Look in this mirror and tell me where you want it,” you instruct her.

What ensues is a game of hot and cold as you find the perfect placement for the tattoo. Once the stencil is transferred to her skin, you let her get comfortable on the table while you prepare your tattoo machine. You pull your stool over beside her, dragging your tray with you. The familiar hum of the machine soon rings out in the room as you begin to trace the stencil on her hip and thigh.

A few minutes into the tattoo, Alex speaks. “So, what got you into bringing fish into the studio?”

“I just wanted to bring some life into the studio,” you respond, eyes not leaving the tattoo site. “Something non-disruptive.”

She hums in response before you continue.

“I’ve been in the fish keeping hobby since high school,” you explain. “And Becca doesn’t like snakes.”

“You almost brought in a snake?” She asks, surprise evident in her tone.

“The thought crossed my mind,” you chuckle, wiping extra ink off her skin.

“Do you have a snake at home?”

“Yeah, actually. She was the model for my snake tattoo actually,” you answer her, briefly showing off your forearm sleeve. “Brought her into the studio I went to for it.”

“You're cute,” she hums, a small smile gracing her features before she panics. "I- I mean, that's-- cute."

You chuckle out a “thanks,” to her.

“Anything else in your home?” She asks, hoping to distract you from her slip up.

“Yep! I got two dogs, a leopard gecko, and seven fish tanks,” you proudly state.

“Wow,” she breathes, “that’s a lot.”

You hum in response, a small smile gracing your lips.

“I wanted to bring a slice of home into the studio,” you admit.

“Do you have any clownfish?” She inquires. “Like Nemo?”

You let out a small laugh. “Actually yeah. Except she doesn’t have his stripes and her name is Coat.”

“You named your fish ‘Coat’?” She chuckles in amusement.

“Yeah,” you defend your fish, “she looks like she’s wearing a white coat and her face is sticking out the hood.”

Alex lets out a laugh at your defense. “What’s your snakes’ name,” she continues, “Wood Glue?”

“Close,” you laugh, having to lift the machine off her skin.

She turns her head to you, mouth agape in disbelief.

“Her name is just Glue,” you laugh, going back to the tattoo.

She raises her eyebrows in amusement and disbelief. She shakes her head, laughing at your choice of names for your pets.

“My leopard gecko is Bones,” you continue. “I also have some cory-cats at home: Panda, Duck, Leopard, Rat, and Toad.”

“You’re insane,” she shakes her head, a grin taking over her features. “How many fish do you have in all those tanks?”

“Pffttt! Too many,” you humorously state.

She raises an eyebrow at you incredulously, egging you on.

“Honestly, I don’t know, but it’s more than like, 40,” you state. “The guppies keep fucking.”

“Jesus—“

You hum, letting a chuckle escape your lips.

“What about you?” You inquire. “You got any pets?”

“Not yet,” she admits. “My job is too demanding for me to have the time right now.”

“If you could choose a pet right now, what would you choose to adopt?”

She hums in thought, tilting her head as she thinks. “I’d probably adopt a puppy,” she admits. “Not a huge breed, but not an ankle biter.”

You laugh at her answer, continuing with the lineart of the tattoo.

“What, do you have a problem with—“

“No, I just—“ you laugh, shaking your head, “pffttt, ankle biter.”

She laughs with you as you continue inking her skin.

The first half of the tattoo goes by relatively smoothly. You’re working on the shading of the upper half when Alex asks you to pause.

“You doing okay?” You ask, placing your machine on the tray.

“Yeah, I just need to take a short break,” she admits. “I need to stretch.”

You nod, backing your stool up and letting her stand. You take your gloves off, discarding them as you stand as well. You reach your hands above your head, interlocking your fingers to stretch out your body. You hear a couple places in your fingers and shoulders crack and pop.

“I’m gonna pop out to the Snack Shack in the lobby, do you want a yummy?” You offer.

“Sure,” she accepts your offer, wrapping the large burrito around herself.

You open your studio door and hop out to the snack station. Alex follows, wrapped up cozy behind you.

You open the cabinets that house the snacks and find your personal stash.

“Anything specific you want?” You pull out a couple bags of snacks to show Alex your options.

“I’ll take the cookies right there,” she points out the bag of chocolate chip mini cookies.

You grab them and toss them to her, nearly catching her off guard. You grab your own snack and turn around to usher her back to your studio.

The two of you take a seat, you on your counter next to your fish, and her on the tattoo table. The two of you snack in silence. You’re grooving to the beat of Fever Dream by mxmtoon, humming softly along.

Before long, the two of you finish your snack break.

“Let me know when you’re ready to go again, you state, tossing your wrapper in the trash bin in your studio.

Alex follows your role and tosses hers across the room, scoring it in the bin.

“Nice,” you congratulate her.

Alex begins to settle back on the table, exposing the tattoo site. You grab a new set of gloves and get ready again, settling down in your stool.

“I’m ready,” Alex states, shifting on the table one last time.

You get ready to tattoo, adjusting your own position to best tattoo the area.

“Has that guy texted you anymore since?” She inquires, breaking the silence between you two.

“Yep,” you huff. “He keeps making new accounts to bother me.”

“You know, you can put in a police report about it,” she suggests.

“I did,” you sigh. “They said since he’s not threatening me and he hasn’t shown back up, they can’t do anything about it.”

“God, that’s such bullshit,” Alex snorts. “That’s unfair to you!”

“It is what it is..” you sigh defeatedly.

“That’s not how it should be though,” she adds. “If he keeps bothering you, I’ll open a case against him for you.”

A small smile takes over your features and you glance at the agent. “Gosh, Alex—“

“Don’t tell me not to,” she insists, “I won’t listen to it.”

You let out a chuckle, gently shaking your head. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you again as you continue working on her tattoo. Various sapphic artists continue to play through your speaker softly.

“You know,” you begin, “you don’t have to keep paying me hundreds of dollars to be able to talk to me.”

You glance up at her and she meets your gaze. Confusion crosses her features as you continue.

“Just ask me out already.”

You continue focusing on her tattoo, waiting for her response. She opens her mouth to speak, not being able to find the words to respond to you.

“I- well,” she begins to stutter out words. “I mean, I’m free next Thursday if you are?”

You smile, lifting the needle off her skin and looking at her.

“Three o’clock?” You ask.

“I’ll pick you up,” she offers.

“Deal.”

The two of you smile to yourselves, stealing glances from each other as you continue tattooing.

Alex finds mother topic for the two of you to converse about while you finish up the last hour of tattooing. Once done, you clean the area and add the second skin.

“What do you think?” You ask, discarding your gloves as she inspects it in the mirror.

She runs her hand around the second skin, inspecting and admiring your work.

“I love it,” she states, turning to you.

You give her a grin, happy with your work and her content with the final product.

“I’m glad,” you smile at her. “Okay, go get dressed and meet me at the front desk.”

You turn and hop out of the room, gently closing the door behind you. You happily skip over to the desk, jumping up and sliding over the top into your spot behind it. A few moments later, Alex exits your studio and approaches you. She digs for her wallet, taking out the cash for your work and handing it over. You accept it and quickly hand back over her change.

“Thursday,” she nods at you, “three o’clock, I’ll pick you up.”

You nod, biting your lip. “Here. I’ll be here.”

“It’s a date then,” she agrees.

•••

Come Thursday, you’d just finished up your last client of the day about an hour before Alex was supposed to arrive. You’d planned a bit ahead this morning, opting to bring a change of clothes to work for you to change into for your date.

Glancing at the fish tanks, you notice how grubby they look. “To kill some time,” you sigh to yourself.

By the time you finish, you’ve got 15 minutes to get cleaned up and ready for Alex. Before long, you hear the engine of a motorcycle revving approaching the store. You throw on a jacket, completing your look and stepping outside to wait for Alex. You look down the streets and watch the person on the motorcycle pull up in front of you. Placing a foot down to hold the bike, they take off their helmet.

“Hop on,” Alex greets.

She pulls an extra helmet up into view, extending it towards you. You grin, approaching her on her bike and accepting the extended helmet. You swing your leg over the seat, settling in behind her and securing your helmet. She urges you to hold onto her. You wrap your arms around her torso, feeling the warmth radiating from her. You hold onto her firmly yet gentle as she revs the engine, gently taking off onto the road.

[ryder-writes]

A Small Road Trip Stop- Tate Frost x GN!Reader

CW: Tate Frost ooc? Ive never played the game so uhh sorry if he is, blood, dirty thoughts

A/n: As I said above, I have never played this game, so if some details are not canon, I'm sorry. Feel free to let me know so I can fix it :]!

WC: 1.2k

You walked toward the light source, clutching your coat to your body. There was a snowstorm outside, which you were forced to walk through to reach what looked like the only store around. It was a really small town, surrounded by woods and very off-grid, in your opinion. You were simply driving through, on your way to see family. It was nearing the holiday season, and you had (somehow) gotten a month off.

Although, your family lived a bit away so you had decided to take a little road trip. 

You walked up toward the store and opened the door. The warmth flooded your body, and you sighed contently. You walked in, noticing a man at the checkout. He was wearing a black polo and green jacket, his name tag halfway hidden behind it. His short hair was dirty blonde, and frayed in different directions. It looked messy, but like he at least tried to style it. He didn’t even look at you, his tired eyes looking at a magazine or book of some kind.

You walked away and went to find some dinner, and some drinks/snacks for the next day. You wandered the store, noticing how it sold a lot more than just food. On the side wall, you found a cooler full of drinks. You grabbed two water bottles and a bottle/can of (favorite drink here). They were put down in your basket that you had picked up as you continued to shop. Each row had something that caught your eye, but nothing caught your eye more than the meat section. Standing there, behind the desk, was a man. But oh, was he attractive. He was big, and had prominent tan lines that showed thanks to his black tank top. His hair was tied back into a ponytail, besides the two white strands on the side of his head. You were honestly surprised it didn’t seem to bother him while working. His hair was mostly a mix of brown, however, the white and a some grey were striped in as well. It was voluminous and looked very fluffy. You wanted to run your hands through it. His face was focused as he worked, his purple eyes staring and fluffy brows furrowing. His goatee? Beard? You really didn’t know what to call it, but mixed with his sideburns it increased his attractiveness. If that was even possible. He finished whatever he was doing (you were too busy admiring him to care or notice what exactly). He wiped his calloused hands on his apron. The apron was covered in blood, but that was to be expected considering his place in the store and meat in the counter in front of him. As he moved, you noticed the tattoos on his arms; some cards and a wolf.

"Do you need help with somthin'? I can feel ya staring."

You jumped at the sudden voice, eyes snapping over to him. He chuckles. Your face immediately starts turning red as the blush creeped up your face. You had dropped your basket in embarrassment, the contents spilling onto the floor. You gasped in surprise and bent down to pick it up. You wished you would disappear. Why couldn't you have embarressed yourself in front of that tired cashier?! You were to caught up in your embarrassment and annoyance at yourself to notice him. He bent down next to you and started to help you pick up.

"Oh, you don’t have to do that!" You scrambled, snapping out of your trance and starting to pick up the items.

"It's fine. I wasn’t doin' anythin' anyway." He shrugs. You make the mistake of looking up at him. Good lord. He was a lot bigger up close, and his chest… His chest was huge. Your eyes flick down to his titties. You wanted to squeeze them so bad. Same with his stomach, which hung a little bit over his apron. Your blushed deepened, if that was even possible. You shoved the rest of your items back into your basket and stood up, begging your shaky legs to cooperate. He stood up as well, towering over you.

"Name's Tate, by the way." He extended his hand for you to shake.

"I'm Y/n." You say, shaking his hand. It was so warm and big. You wondered what it would feel like wrapped around your-

"Whatcha doing all the way out here?" He asks, crossing his arms.

"I'm on my way to visit family and I just wanted to pick up some things." You answer honestly. For some reason, you didn’t feel threatened by him despite his size and stature.

"Ah, okay. Where you from, Sha?" He looks interested in you- or your story. Most likely your story.

"Not too far from here, I just started driving yesterday." He looked you up and down. "And, uhm, 'sha'?" You were visibly confused.

"Consider it a term of endearment." He smirked. Oh, you wanted this man. He took a step closer to you. "You stayin' for long?"

"No, just for tonight." He tsked.

"Shame, I would like to get to know you better." He leaned down so your face was an inch from his. You could feel his warm breath on your lips. You were sure you looked so stupid, face flushed and eyes wide. He chuckled.

"Cute." Your brain stopped working. He thought you were cute? And his face was so close; you could feel his warmth. You somehow felt at ease. "You got somewhere ta stay?" He asked, snapping you out of our trance.

"Oh no, I was just gonna sleep in my car." He hummed.

"I'd be happy to let ya stay over at my place" He offered. "Make sure ya stay warm n' safe." Were you dreaming? You had to be dreaming. Now, you knew that staying at a stranger's place was a bad idea. But he was so warm… and he just felt down to earth and safe. You imagined how safe you would feel in his arms. But you didn’t want to be rude. It seemed as though he could read your thoughts. "Don’t worry, your not intrudin' or anythin'" He assured. You exhaled.

"That might be nice, yeah." You admitted. He smiled.

"Great," He looked at the clock on the wall. "My shift ends in 30 minutes."

You followed him to the back and talked for the rest of his shift, as no on else came into the store. As he went into the back to grab his stuff, you walked toward the front and paid for your stuff. The cashier didn’t say much, just reading your total off the screen. You didn’t mind, though. You figured he was exhausted and knowing you were going home with Tate kept you from judging. You met up with Tate by the doors and walked out as we waved the cashier goodbye.

-

After following Tate to his place, he helped you carry some stuff inside. He lived in a trailer, and it was decorated with antlers and an 'X' made out of axes on the wall. It was colder than you expected inside, but from the amount of warmth that he gave off you weren't necessarily surprised. He put your stuff down before locking the door behind you.

"So, Sha, ya want somthin' to eat?" He smirked, a mischievous glare in his eyes. You gulped. Maybe you had made a mistake.

A/n Pt. 2: Thanks for reading! As someone who simps for Tate myself, this was fun to write. If u also like Pokémon/MHA, here is my masterlist (no pressure to read anything ofc)

[elchicodenim]

1106 | Ray (Kris's childhood friend) Weibo livestream

"Let me tell you something regarding the isolate issue (Kris's whereabouts) it's not convenient for me to answer you. But I do care about his family so I've already contacted Aunty (Kris' mom) and his family and I'll protect them so you can rest assured." "Thank you, thank you for supporting us, supporting him, being there for him, we miss him, we love him. I know for a fact that you know, I stand firm to this that he did not do those things and I believe him, so thank you for being there."

Ray said that Kris got this tattoo for Meigeni, and also actually encouraged him to get his first tattoo. Ray met Kris in 2020 and all they talked about was tattoos, Ray said "the tattoo is so cute" so he decided to get this tattoo too. He kept the promise he had made to Kris. When they met in 2020 they ended up talking until nearly morning, Kris was so into the idea that he wanted to go to a tattoo shop right then, it was like at 3-4am. Ray was hesitating though and ended up passing out on him since he had work the next day.

Ray talked about the MV for Throwback. It was in 2020 when he met Kris at a race track in CA. Kris told Ray to go be his copilot, something Ray had no experience in and Kris was already a pro. When Kris drove 3 laps, Ray thought he was fine and that it was over, but Kris kept driving until Ray got dizzy, he was so dizzy that he passed out several times. Every time Kris would see Ray he would pass out he asked him, "you okay bro? you good bro?" and Ray said "yeah yeah". Kris kept driving until the 10th lap. Ray looked like couldn't take it anymore, so Kris stopped before Ray actually passed out.

Ray shared how Kris' biggest dream was to make it to the NBA but it was too difficult, so when Kris returned to Vancouver from Guangzhou he focused on practicing dancing seriously then he went to an audition and fly to Korea. Later came back to Ray asking if he'd want to give it a try since Ray is 182 cm, so Ray decided to go for it but after waiting in line for three hours without getting anywhere near the audition, he gave up and went back home.

Ray said they didn't get to see each other in person very often, but every time they met, they talked for a long time, like chatterboxes, about everything. Ray was 12 and Kris was 13 when they met at the Guangzhou Sports School, they both came from Vancouver, that's how they started to get to know each other, either by eating McDonald's or KFC, or everything else. They both speak English, Chinese, and Cantonese. They both communicated mostly by email (Kris really loves to use email, they have been online friends for 10 years), Kris even sent a special email to Ray before his debut.

As soon as Ray saw that comment questioning his friendship with Kris, he made it clear that he is his true friend. "Of course I am a real friend, if you don't know me, then you don't know me, that's fine."

"There's always hope, always hope. That's why we're here, that's why I'm here alright, to show you guys that I'm here. We're always supporting him no matter what."

[seasidesandstarscapes]

Love At First Sting

Summary: Don’s having an ordinary day. Then his next client comes in and everything changes.

Rating: T

Genre: Modern AU, Tattoo Artist/Piercer Don, First Meetings, Nipple Piercings, Flirting, Fluff, Slice of Life

Words: 1666

A/N: this was fun, talk to me about this version of don pls

-

AO3

or

Don senses trouble when two men enter the shop with darting eyes and small, joking smiles.

He steels himself, biting down on his lip ring and clenches his hands near the computer keyboard. He’s had stranger clients, but there’s something about these two that doesn’t sit right.

The shorter one all but bounds to the counter like an excited puppy and grins at Don. His companion, dark-haired and model looks, settles next to him.

“I’ve got an appointment at three with…Don?,” Short One says. “I’m Bobby Moch.”

Don types in the first name, finds the appointment with ease. He can’t help raise a brow before turning on the professionalism.

“Nipple piercings?”

“Can’t be the worst thing you guys have done, can it?” Bobby grins.

Not even close, but Don doesn’t want to get into the details. Right now, he’s wondering why this guy, dressed like a prep school kid, is wanting nipple piercings of all things. Then again, he shouldn’t judge, but he can’t seem to help himself with Bobby.

He hands the proper forms over to Bobby, watches him scan each line before scribbling his signature. Most customers just sign without a second glance, but Bobby even squints at the fine print.

“He lost a bet,” the friend chats to Don while Bobby is busy. “I told him he doesn’t have to go through with it, but Bobby’s stubborn like that.”

He throws an arm around Bobby’s shoulders and gives him a squeeze.

“Get off, Shorty,” Bobby shoves him away, then gives the signed papers back to Don. “Should we just take a seat then?”

Don shakes his head. “I’m actually ready for you right now. Follow me.”

Leading the two to his area, Don motions to the chair for Bobby to sit and offers a less comfortable seat for Shorty. It’s not on purpose, it’s just all Don has.

Bobby settles into the chair, lays against the tilted back. “Oh, wait.”

He takes off his shirt and, well, Don doesn’t mean to stare but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the view. Bobby clearly works out, curved pecks and a tight stomach. There’s just the faintest trail of hair dragging Don’s eyes to the waistband of Bobby’s jeans, teasing of what else is hidden.

When he looks back at Bobby’s face, the man’s eyes shine with amusement and Don presses the ball of his tongue piercing to the roof of his mouth.

He doesn’t even know the man. This is just a usual day at work, he can’t let himself get carried away. He sets up his station, pulls on gloves and checks over his tools one last time.

“I was right with your name, wasn’t I?” Bobby asks. “Don.”

Don nods, a little bit of pride trickling through him. More often than not, new customers refer to him as “that tall, tattooed one” or they just point. Bobby remembering his name is nice, like he actually cares about who his piercer is.

Taking a cotton ball, Don cleans Bobby’s nipple and he tries not to let his thoughts drift too much. It doesn’t help that Bobby shivers, his nipple stiffening into a firm nub. Don wonders what it’d be like to put his mouth on it, to bite down until Bobby moans.

Snapping his hand back, Don grabs the pen, keeps his gaze far from Bobby’s face. Somehow, he manages to mark where he’s going to pierce despite his pounding heart.

With a heavy exhale through his nose, Don grabs the needle and cork, checking with Bobby one last time.

“Ready?”

Bobby nods, his stare darts to the ceiling. No time like the present. Don pierces the nipple and he winces at Bobby’s scream.

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.”

Shorty breaks into laughter and Don works fast to thread the barbell piercing into place. Bobby’s teeth are clenched, his hands flex between fists and spread out fingers. He spits out more swears as Don blots away the bit of blood and then he finishes by putting a bandage over the nipple.

“Need a break?” Don asks as he sits on his stool, getting rid of the contaminated items.

Bobby shudders, his swallow thick and adam’s apple bobbing. “Maybe just a minute.”

Tossing away his gloves, Don then digs into his mini fridge, handing a water bottle to Bobby and then Shorty.

“Damn,” Shorty stands over Bobby. “You look like you just ran a marathon.”

“Fuck you,” Bobby spats. “You go get your nipples pierced then.”

Shorty shrugs, taking a sip from the water bottle. “Next bet.”

Don just watches the two, curious about their history, what led to this moment. He’s not going to ask, of course. Don isn’t one to prod, he doesn’t even know that much about his regular clients.

“You got yours pierced?” Shorty grabs Don’s attention.

With both Bobby and Shorty looking expectantly at him, Don forgets how to speak for a moment.

Then, “Yeah.”

Shorty and Bobby wait, but Don doesn’t feel like sharing this piercing story. Really, his friend Chuck had needed practice and Don was willing. The two men don’t look away, leaving Don to let out a small sigh.

“Fine.” He tugs up his tank top, shows them the piercings.

Today just so happens to be the day he decided to wear the chain that connects the two piercings together. Bobby and Shorty’s eyes widen, their faces turning a shade darker.

“Cool,” Bobby stutters out, now choosing to look at his water bottle.

Lowering his shirt, Don bites back his grin. If this is what teasing Bobby is like, Don is anxious to do it again. There’s a rush to this, knowing Bobby can be made a puddle so easily. Now that he’s back in charge, Don stands up, hovers close to Bobby.

“Ready to do the other one?”

Bobby’s eyes flicker around and Shorty settles back into his chair. He pulls out his phone, leaving Don to figure out Bobby’s body language.

“We can wait—,” Don starts and then Bobby cuts him off.

“I’m ready.”

Don raises a brow, pauses, and then Bobby looks him dead in the eye. Straight on, his stare is intense, engulfing and Don almost forgets himself. He doesn’t break eye contact, not even as he repeats the process from before. Then he has the needle at Bobby’s nipple and Bobby stiffens.

“Relax,” Don soothes, laying his palm on Bobby’s stomach.

At this, Bobby lets out a sigh, his shoulders dropping, body sinking into the chair. His eyes flutter shut, his chest rising and falling with each breath. It’s beautiful and Don’s mouth goes dry as he removes his hand, twisting the cork back into his fingers.

“Good boy.”

The words leave Don’s mouth before he can stop them. Bobby’s eyes fly open, mouth dropping. In their shared shock, Don pierces Bobby’s nipple.

“FUCK.”

Bobby slams his fists down on the arms of the chair, his head jerking back. He doesn’t pull away from Don though, and Don is grateful for that. His mind swims, panic bubbling up in his chest. He hopes Bobby didn’t take his praise the wrong way and that it’ll all be forgotten.

When the second piercing is taken care of, Bobby is slow to sit up, his gaze now turned to his chest.

“Looks like I’m trying to censor my own nipples,” he jokes.

If Don’s hands weren’t full of bloody tissues and needles, he’d be tempted to give Bobby a playful shove. Instead, he just lets out a breathy laugh while he cleans up himself and his station.

He can hear a whisper, something exchanged between Shorty and Bobby, but he can’t quite make it out. Taking slow breaths, Don calms his racing heart, covers his fear with mock indifference

He grabs a post-piercing guide card, then motions for Bobby and Shorty to follow him up to the front desk. Sure, he’s a little disappointed when Bobby puts his shirt back on, but it’s probably for the best.

“Make sure you follow this,” Don taps the card, then he slides it across the counter.

Bobby rushes to grab it and their fingers brush, just for a moment, but it’s enough. Don has the touch burned into his memory, he’s slow to draw his hand back

He still needs to be paid though, and that’s the only thing keeping him focused.

Just when he brings up the invoice, there’s the clearing of a throat. Don looks at Bobby, worried he’s forgotten something. Instead, Bobby seems jittery, almost excited, and he gives Don a coy grin.

“Would you be free for a follow-up appointment?” Bobby’s voice has a rough edge to it.

Don blinks, then he brings up the schedule, checking which slots are open. Bobby should come back, if only to make sure the piercings are healing right.

“I’ve got a spot next Tuesday if that works for you?”

Bobby tilts his head, his eyebrows furrowing for a second before he collects himself. “Oh, yeah. That should work.”

Shorty elbows Bobby’s side, an eye roll to accompany it. Bobby scowls, then he shakes his head.

“I meant like a date.”

It’s Don’s turn to be confused and he stares at Bobby, the two locked in silence. Bobby is cute, he has a great body, and while he doesn’t seem to make the smartest decisions, Don has been in the same boat. Maybe he can help guide this wild, rambunctious man.

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” Bobby’s face splits into a grin. ”Sweet! Can I get your number?”

Once the texts are sent and Don is paid, Bobby and Shorty make their leave. Bobby looks over shoulder at Don every step until he leaves the shop, the smile never leaving his face. It’s only once the door shuts that Don realizes he hasn’t been breathing and he exhales with a grin.

Either way, this should be a fun time and when those piercings heal, Don can’t wait to show Bobby just what he can do with them.

[paradisepoisoned]

I'm drunk, and work is consuming my life, so I give you the Death Note tattoo AU no one asked for.

-L was a world-famous tattoo artist, but no one really knows what he looks like except his clients and disgruntled employees, but his work is well recognized. Moved to New York to open his own tattoo shop but he's kinda a mystery in the industry and he's one of those owners that doesn't really show up to his own business anymore he rarely tattoos and when he does its only things he wants to do. Will fuck off to Cambodia for a month or something and then randomly show up to collect money and sleep there for a week.

 -L has only ever took two apprentices and they were Mello and Near. He took them on at the same time and it was a complete disaster. L refuses to take on an apprentice ever again

-Near specializes in sacred geometry, mandalas, and all that tedious crazy shit. Line work is impeccable. I feel like he'd be great at lettering and that fine line bullshit that everyone else hates. No one takes him seriously as an artist cause he looks like he's fucking twelve. He has amazing work but is absolutely horrible with clients due to his non existent social skills.

-Mello is the black and gray guy. He's one of those guys who just whips out a 23 mag and goes to town and bangs out a half sleeve in a few hours. I can see him doing crazy horror shit and those big crazy religious pieces like praying hands statues and all that good shit. He doesn't do color and doesn't like anything with a lot of linework. Looks scary but kinda a softie. 

-Near is great at linework. Mello is great at shading. They compete and fight on a regular basis. They have an ongoing silent war stealing each other's supplies,clients, etc. (They're secretly in love tho, deal with it)

-Matt definitely the anime bruh I could see him doing some super colorful new school anime type shit he's a street shop kinda guy at heart tho hell do the dirty jobs no one else wants to do and he's FAST he can bang out your little infinity symbol butterfly feather clusterfuck matching finger tattoo with your 13 friends no problem. He wears goggles while tattooinglmaoaoa idk why, but he also gives me big piercer energy, lol 

-I'm sorry but I can't leave out Linda. I feel like she's the color girl. Specializes in cover ups and botanical tattoos but shes well rounded and can take mostly anything that walks in. Probably the most organized artist out of all of them and keeps the shop from falling apart on a daily basis. I feel like L also trusts her to be the one to manage the shop while he's not there since the others are all completely unhinged, lol. Shop mom 100%

-Matt and Mello hit the bar at least once a week after work and talk shit till 4am 

-B Specializes in trash polka fucking fight me on it.

-B and L apprenticed together and were working together when L opened his own shop but B kinda went down a dark path and him and L drifted apart and now have beef so B is the artist no one talks about (except Mello cause I feel B woulda played a big part in his apprenticeship) 

-B also kinda legitimately tried to burn the whole shop down before he left soooooo...

-L has kept B's room open for years, hoping he gets his shit together one day and comes back. 

[lumiatattoo]

Fine Line Tattoo Shops: The Best Places to Get Beautiful and Elegant Fine Line Tattoos

In the world of tattoo artistry, fine line tattoos have emerged as a stunning and delicate trend that continues to captivate ink enthusiasts and art aficionados alike. These tattoos are characterized by their intricate details, thin lines, and elegant designs that often resemble fine art. If you're considering getting a fine line tattoo, finding the right tattoo shop and artist is crucial to ensure the best outcome. In this blog post, we'll explore the enchanting world of fine line tattoos and share some of the best places to get them.

What Are Fine Line Tattoos?

Fine line tattoos are a genre of tattoos that focus on precision and intricate detailing. These tattoos employ exceptionally thin lines and subtle shading techniques to create delicate and refined designs. Whether it's a minimalist floral motif, a dainty animal portrait, or an intricate geometric pattern, fine line tattoos are a testament to the skill and artistry of the tattooist. They offer a unique blend of subtlety and sophistication, making them a popular choice among those seeking a more understated yet elegant form of body art.

Guide to Selecting The Ideal Fine Line Tattoo Shop

When embarking on your journey to find the perfect fine line tattoo shop, there are several essential considerations to keep in mind. Your tattoo is a permanent work of art, and the shop you choose plays a pivotal role in its outcome. Here's a comprehensive guide to assist you in making the right decision:

1. Artist Portfolios:

The first step in your quest for the ideal fine line tattoo shop is to examine the artists' portfolios. Scrutinize their previous work to ensure they possess the skills required for fine line tattoos and can execute your vision flawlessly. Look for a consistent style that aligns with your preferences.

2. Hygiene and Cleanliness:

Hygiene is paramount in the tattoo industry. A reputable fine line tattoo shop prioritizes cleanliness and maintains a sterile environment. Verify that they use fresh needles for each client and dispose of them properly after use. This commitment to cleanliness ensures your safety and the artist's.

3. Customer Reviews:

The experiences of past clients can provide valuable insights into the credibility of a fine line tattoo shop. Take the time to peruse reviews on platforms like Yelp and Google. If the majority of reviews are positive, you can trust that you're in capable hands.

4. Pricing Transparency:

Fine line tattoos often require meticulous attention to detail, which can influence the pricing. Prices can vary significantly from one shop to another. Before committing to a shop, make sure you have a clear understanding of the pricing structure and what is included in the cost.

5. Effective Communication:

Once you've selected a fine line tattoo shop, effective communication with the artists is crucial. To ensure your vision is understood and executed to perfection, bring reference photos and be specific about your expectations. Don't hesitate to ask questions or seek their input on the design.

During consultations, consider asking the following questions to gauge the artist's expertise and compatibility with your desired tattoo:

What's your experience with fine line tattoos?

This question helps you assess the artist's familiarity with the style and their level of expertise.

Have you worked on a design like this before?

Inquiring about their prior experience with similar designs provides insight into their ability to handle your specific request.

Can you walk me through the process of creating this design?

Understanding the artist's creative process and workflow ensures you are on the same page regarding the design's execution.

How long do you think this tattoo will take to complete?

This question helps you manage your expectations regarding the duration of the tattoo session and the overall time needed for completion.

Conclusion

Choosing the perfect fine line tattoo shop is a meticulous process that demands careful consideration. By evaluating artists' portfolios, emphasizing cleanliness, reviewing customer feedback, understanding pricing, and fostering effective communication, you can embark on your tattoo journey with confidence, knowing that your fine line masterpiece will be in the hands of skilled professionals. Fine line tattoos are the perfect option for those in Miami seeking an elegant and versatile choice in body art. Whether you're interested in a simple, minimalist design or a detailed, intricate piece, Lumia Tattoo Shop, a top "tattoo near me" choice, has the expertise and skill to bring your vision to life. Contact us today to book your appointment and experience the beauty of fine line tattoos for yourself.

[cesium-sheep]

tattoo get, report for @ceylonsilvergirl below <3

I went to Rhiannon at Strange Magic Tattoo, they were very communicative and easy to talk to, very invested in my comfort etc. they used a cordless needle gun, which they say is much quieter. this was on my left thigh.

pain: it feels about the same as digging out an ingrown hair with sharp tweezers. better than getting a line set for a blood draw even accounting for the relative durations. I would say that it feels like it's about to punch through and hurt worse than it actually does which may psych people out into thinking it's more painful than it is, but it always stays on the near side of that little barrier. this took technically an hour but I would guess like 40 minutes of actual inking? and it was very easy. but bear in mind I have chronic pain and am a professional patient so I have to sit through worse for less all the time anyway. tbh my random ambient aches like the patch that reacted to my exfoliant last night are currently worse than the site, although it was sprayed with bactine which is a topical anesthetic.

appointment scheduling: this shop was appointment only, they had both a google form and a contact email that went to the main shop who then gave me the artist's email. I had to follow up once after the initial email as they had just come back from vacation and the forwarded email probably got lost. I sent them the image I had drawn and a description of what it was and where I wanted it as well as some relevant info like this is my first tattoo, I'd like to have someone with me for cripple reasons, etc. they gave me their hourly rate and a time estimate. this shop also requires a deposit to hold the appointment, which counts towards the total bill and which I was able to send to the artist directly.

the actual appointment: skipped the two closest doses of prescribed aspirin, filled out a consent form, got the area cleaned/shaved and the stencil applied for approval, let that dry down and then lay down with my leg supported. they spent time talking through what they used, what they were doing, and what they were going to do. the music was a little too loud but whatever. we chatted amiably while they worked and it was generally very easy. I wore my loose pajama pants so I could roll them up to expose the site without cutting off circulation. they use second skin, so I basically just don't touch it for 3 days then regularly clean and moisturize after that. showering etc is still fine from the getgo. there were minor modifications to the design that were not sketched out but were verbally agreed upon beforehand. the artist, matt, and me were the only ones there.

price: another shop gave me an estimate of $350 for the same design, but possibly due to more communication beforehand this was $180+tip for 1 hour of work. I tipped 20% since I have heard that's standard and also it was all the money I technically had spendable plus $2.

[secret-swords-speakeasy]

HERO NAME: Eons

CIVILIAN NAME: [REDACTED] (revealed after the event!)

PRONOUNS: cieyr/cieyrie/cieyrs/cieyrself, they/them, her/herself (on occasion)

POWER(S): Unknown, even to herself, sorta. Cieyrie knows it has to do with Shifting, it’s like shapeshifting, but cieyr knows cieyr can do more than a normal Shifter. Cieyr hasn’t found a limit to their power yet. There’s also another thing, but cieyr doesn’t really talk about that one

GUILD/AFFILIATION: um, no? I mean, does college count? I can art?

CONNECTIONS: None, really. As long as you do right by her, and her morals, than cieyrie’s fine with you. Cieyr finds it near laughable to think that cieyrie’d have a friend.

WHY YOU’RE HERE: The bouncer noticed me I guess? And had me follow her? I swear I wasn’t asleep in my nook before!

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: Eons is an unassuming face in an unassuming world, at first glance. Though many features seem to change from one glance to the next, there are few things that rarely change.

The weirdly shaped birthmarks behind each eye, both a startling white. Cieyr eyes, such large dark things, speaking of wisdom beyond their years. A beautiful pair of large Eagle wings+tail feathers that cieyr seems to try and hide whenever possible, Eons’ long brown—but sometimes white—hair that just scrapes past their knees, in barely kempt braids. The shine of such sharp, pointed white teeth, like that of a predatory animals, cieyr various small tattoos, the most notable are the thin lines that run down cieyr chin. And perhaps most notable of all, her birdy legs, and their 4 tall curving horns atop and aside her head.

Eons is a lanky being, standing just over (by 1/2 an inch) 6ft, a great accomplishment of hers, (they never thought they’d get farther than 5ft 4) but with that came the additional 15 20 inches of horn, so doorways and Eons don’t mix well. (Yeah! Curse you dorways, you—)

Concerning cieyr costume, well Eons doesn’t quite have one. Cieyrie’s in college, cieyr doesn’t need a third side-gig. But if you do see her in the speakeasy, cieyr’ll be in a leather jacket, some jeans and shiny silver jewelry. Like the scrap piece of silver cieyr turned into a pretty piece for her horns

ADDITIONAL NOTES: Despite what Eons has said about cieyrself, they most certainly were asleep in cieyr nook they found themselves.

Despite everything, Eons is just a broke, perpetually stressed out, college kid, despite them never really buying cieyrself anything.

If Eons isn’t at school, or asleep at home, cieyr is most definitely in the shop, in the nook cieyrie found for cieyrself, doing homework, light preening, reading, or creating art/artsy projects to sell for cieyr business.

Eons, who will not tell anyone, does regularly fall asleep in the Nook next to the hidden stairway. Every day cieyr gets here mid-morning, and leaves just before closing, if they’re not in class. Cieyr honestly juste overworks herself. Eons is lonely, but will not trust anyone to be there for her. Cieyrie is also a cynic, who holds no hope or love for people.

Cieyr may seem shy and meek now, but that can and will change when cieyrie’s deemed it fit.

Eons likes shiny and high places

Eons also has something strange going on with cieyr ears, no ones ever quite remembered if they were human or bird or something else entirely.

MMA

sorry for the absolute word dump

why can’t I write this much normally?

sorry! mind the doorways! we try to keep them tall considering most of our patrons aren’t of… typical body-type, but you might still have to keep watch on those. we do also have a “no flying” rule in the bar, so if you could… anyway, welcome to the secret swords speakeasy!

[sohelmmmm]

GreyWash Ink Tattoo

13240 N 7th St #9, Phoenix, AZ 85022, United States

+16025837523

GreyWash Ink Tattoo is your go-to destination if you are looking for a tattoo shop near me. Located in Phoenix, we are dedicated to providing high-quality tattoos and piercings in a professional and hygienic environment. Our skilled artists are passionate about bringing your tattoo ideas to life, ensuring every piece is unique and meaningful.

As a well-established tattoo shop in Phoenix, we pride ourselves on delivering exceptional artistry and customer service. Our experienced tattoo artists specialize in various styles, from traditional and black and grey tattoos to realism, fine line, and custom designs. No matter what design you have in mind, our artists will work with you to create a masterpiece that matches your vision.

For those searching for a tattoo and piercing near me, GreyWash Ink Tattoo offers a wide range of services. Whether you want a small, delicate tattoo or a large, intricate sleeve, we have the expertise to make it happen. Additionally, our professional piercers provide safe and precise piercing services, using only the highest-quality jewelry and sterilized equipment.

We welcome walk-ins and appointments, making us the perfect choice if you need a walk-in tattoo shop near me. Our friendly staff is always ready to assist you, whether you are coming in for your first tattoo or adding another piece to your collection. We ensure a relaxed and comfortable atmosphere, making your tattoo or piercing experience enjoyable and stress-free.

When searching for the best tattoo shop in Phoenix, GreyWash Ink Tattoo stands out for its commitment to excellence. We use top-of-the-line equipment and the finest inks to ensure long-lasting and vibrant tattoos. Hygiene and safety are our top priorities, and we adhere to strict sterilization procedures to guarantee a safe experience for all our clients.

Choosing the right tattoo shop is crucial, and we strive to be the best option for anyone looking for high-quality tattoos and piercings in Phoenix. Our team is dedicated to providing exceptional artistry and a welcoming environment, ensuring you leave our shop with a tattoo you will cherish for a lifetime.

At GreyWash Ink Tattoo, we believe tattoos are a form of self-expression and art. Our artists are passionate about their craft and work closely with clients to design custom tattoos that reflect their personalities and stories. Whether you want a small minimalist tattoo or a full-sleeve design, we can bring your ideas to life with precision and creativity.

Our shop is conveniently located, making it easy for those looking for a tattoo shop near me. We cater to both locals and visitors, ensuring everyone receives the highest standard of tattooing and piercing services. From the moment you walk into our shop, you will be greeted with professionalism, creativity, and dedication to providing you with the best tattooing experience.

GreyWash Ink Tattoo is not just a tattoo shop in Phoenix; it is a place where art and passion meet. Our team consists of experienced and talented artists who continuously hone their skills to offer the latest trends and techniques in tattooing. Whether you prefer classic tattoos or modern, intricate designs, we have the expertise to create something remarkable for you.

For those seeking a tattoo and piercing near me, our shop provides a welcoming and hygienic environment. We understand that getting a tattoo or piercing is a personal decision, and we take the time to ensure you are comfortable and confident with your choice. Our piercers follow strict hygiene standards to provide safe and painless procedures.

If you need a walk-in tattoo shop near me, GreyWash Ink Tattoo is always ready to accommodate your needs. While we recommend scheduling an appointment for custom designs, we gladly accept walk-ins based on availability. Our artists are always excited to take on new projects and create stunning tattoos that you will love.

Finding the best tattoo shop in Phoenix can be challenging, but GreyWash Ink Tattoo makes the choice easy. Our commitment to quality, creativity, and customer satisfaction sets us apart from the rest. Whether you are looking for your first tattoo or adding to your collection, we ensure a professional and enjoyable experience every step of the way.

At GreyWash Ink Tattoo, we value our clients and aim to provide a memorable tattooing experience. We take pride in offering personalized consultations, where we discuss your ideas, preferences, and tattoo placement to create a design that suits you perfectly. Our goal is to exceed your expectations and deliver a tattoo that you will proudly wear forever.

For those searching for a tattoo shop near me that prioritizes artistry, hygiene, and customer satisfaction, GreyWash Ink Tattoo is the ideal choice. We are committed to providing top-notch tattooing and piercing services, making sure each client receives the best possible experience.

If you are looking for a tattoo shop in Phoenix that combines talent, professionalism, and passion, GreyWash Ink Tattoo is the place for you. Visit us today to meet our talented artists, explore our portfolio, and start your tattoo journey with us. Whether you want a small tattoo, a large custom piece, or a piercing, we are here to bring your vision to life.

[atmospheretattoo]

The Best Tattoo Experience in Chicago: Why Atmosphere Tattoo Studio Stands Out

Chicago is known for its vibrant arts scene, and when it comes to tattoos, the city boasts a wide range of studios offering everything from traditional designs to modern, intricate artwork. However, if you’re looking for a place where you can receive exceptional artistry, a comfortable environment, and a memorable experience, Atmosphere Tattoo Studio should be at the top of your list. Let’s take a closer look at what makes this studio stand out among the rest.

Expert Tattoo Artists with a Passion for Craftsmanship

At Atmosphere Tattoo Studio, the team consists of some of the most skilled and creative tattoo artists in Chicago. These professionals bring years of experience and diverse styles to their work, from fine line tattoos to bold, colorful designs. Whether you want a minimalist Best Tattoo Shops Near Me or a detailed, custom piece, the artists here can bring your ideas to life with precision and care.

Each artist at the studio is dedicated to perfecting their craft. They continuously hone their skills and stay updated with the latest tattoo trends and techniques. This commitment ensures that you’re getting a tattoo that is not only beautiful but also executed to the highest standards. Whether you're getting your first tattoo or adding to your existing collection, you can trust that the team will work with you every step of the way to create something truly special.

A Comfortable and Welcoming Atmosphere

One of the key reasons why Atmosphere Tattoo Studio stands out is its focus on creating a comfortable, welcoming environment. Getting a tattoo can be a daunting experience, especially for first-timers, but the atmosphere at this studio is designed to put clients at ease. The space is clean, professional, and stylish, with a relaxed vibe that makes the experience enjoyable.

The staff is friendly and approachable, always ready to answer any questions or address any concerns you might have before, during, or after your tattoo. They understand that every client is unique, and they go above and beyond to ensure that your time at the studio is as comfortable as possible.

Custom Designs for Meaningful Tattoos

One of the standout features of Atmosphere Tattoo Studio is its focus on creating custom designs that are not only aesthetically pleasing but also meaningful to the client. Whether you have a clear idea of what you want or need some guidance in developing your concept, the artists work closely with you to design a tattoo that speaks to you personally. This process ensures that your tattoo will be something truly special, rather than just another piece of body art.

Custom tattoos are especially popular for commemorating significant life events, honoring loved ones, or expressing individuality. At Atmosphere Tattoo Studio, artists take the time to listen to your story and help bring it to life in a design that’s both visually striking and deeply personal.

A Focus on Hygiene and Safety

When it comes to tattoos, hygiene and safety should always be a top priority, and Atmosphere Tattoo Studio does not cut corners in these areas. The studio follows strict sterilization protocols to ensure that every needle, tool, and surface is properly sanitized. All equipment is single-use, so you can rest assured that your health and safety are in good hands. The studio also uses high-quality inks and materials that meet the highest industry standards, ensuring that your tattoo will heal properly and last for years to come.

Why Atmosphere Tattoo Studio is the Best Choice in Chicago

With a combination of artistic excellence, personalized customer service, and a focus on hygiene, Atmosphere Tattoo Studio has earned its reputation as one of the best tattoo destinations in Tattoo Shops Near Me. Whether you're seeking a bold new design, a subtle addition to your tattoo collection, or a unique, custom piece of art, this studio is the place to be.

The talented team of artists will work with you to make sure that your tattoo is everything you’ve envisioned and more. From your first consultation to the moment you leave with your new piece of art, you’ll be treated with the utmost care and respect.

Book Your Appointment Today!

If you’re ready to get your next tattoo in a setting where quality, comfort, and artistry are top priorities, there’s no better place than Atmosphere Tattoo Studio. Don’t wait—book your appointment today and take the first step toward getting the tattoo you’ve always wanted. Visit AtmosphereTattoo.com for more information and to schedule your consultation. Let the talented artists at Atmosphere Tattoo Studio turn your ideas into stunning works of art!

[delta-pavonis]

*cracks knuckles* Let's do this. My brain ran in a slightly different direction, but I still think it is cute.

Hob entered the bougie gelato shop for the first time on his last day walking from his (former) office to the tube station at half two on a Tuesday. The bell over the door jingled merrily and it was an excellent accompaniment to his elevated, near-giddy mood. Finally, he had done it.

He had walked right into the Senior Partner's corner office at Burgess & Sons, looked the Elder Burgess right in the eye, and said, "Take your capitalist hellscape of a law firm, your willingness to defend white-collar criminals, and your tyrannical bullshit, and shove it up your ass." Then he turned on his heel, saw the Younger Burgess (the only of the aforementioned "Sons" still alive, but Roderick hated the surviving son so much he wasn't going to lop the 's' off of the company's name) standing in the doorway, and grinned like a shark.

"And for your parting gift," Hob pulled the envelope out of the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket and smacked it against Alex's chest with a satisfying thump, "you get a summons. See you in court, you piece of shit."

With a wink and a nod to the administrative assistant trying gamely to not burst into giggles, Hob grabbed the small box of items from his desk and walked out of the office as a high-end corporate defense attorney for the last time.

So here Hob stood, in front of a single freezer case in a narrow little gelato shop, box under one arm, looking at what might be the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entire life.

And no, it wasn't the chocolate cayenne gelato.

The person at the counter wasn't even looking at Hob. He didn't even shift or say anything when the door to the shop swung open and closed. And the shop was otherwise empty, so there was no way the man didn't hear him come in.

Instead of greeting his customer, the man was staring down into a notebook, frown of concentration marring his finely carved features, temptingly pink lips perched on the back end of a pen. He was, clearly, deeply focused on what he was writing, to the exclusion of all else.

Hob took advantage of the moment and just... stared. Okay, ogled. Outright thirsted, really. Over the man.

His sleeves were rolled up and his collar unbuttoned, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of smooth collar bone and dark chest hair. The black shirt was tucked into black jeans, accentuating the one hip that jutted out as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. One hand gripped the edge of the counter, twisting the inside of his wrist toward Hob and showing off the delicate, pale skin that bore a small tattoo of a lyre and numbers that could be a date.

Except... if those numbers were a date, it was exceedingly recent, not even two months ago. And didn't that leave a foreboding feeling in Hob's gut.

The line work was still astoundingly good, though, and strangely familiar, and he could not help but comment on it.

"Excuse me," he cleared his throat and the poor man visibly startled, eyes darting this way and that before settling on Hob in front of him. Hob knew for certain that he was scanning his surroundings for threats and an exit strategy; he'd seen it often enough in the clients of his who were not actually guilty but had been threatened into taking the fall. Oh dear. Who was this man? "Your tattoo. I can tell even from here the lines are incredible. It is just lovely. Where did you get it?"

He immediately grabbed his own wrist, covering the tattoo. "Ah," his voice was deep, but rusty from disuse, which of course drew Hob's attention back to his mouth, which was being worried into a strawberry red as he paused. "Death's Wings. Uptown."

Hob whistled. That was in no uncertain terms the best in the city. "Well that explains it. Rumor has it this Death who owns that shop hand picks her jobs based on if she feels like she is 'ready' for them, when it is 'their time.' I wouldn't have expected such a small piece from her, just by reputation, but..." He shrugged. It has been a long time since he had run in those circles.

The man pressed his lips into a thin line, which was a tragedy as it hid their color from Hob's sight. "Well, she may have made an exception for her younger brother." Hob's gaze shot up to meet the other man's as his eyebrows made a break for his hairline, but the other man looked away. "We're both adopted, Teleute and I-"

"Teleute?!" Apparently it was Hob's turn to startle. But there was essentially zero chance there were two female tattoo artists named Teleute in London. "Wait... Are you saying that Teleute Endless is now working under the name Death?!" The man just blinked at Hob and nodded once. Hob stuttered over his next words, his hand coming up to tug at his ear. "She... She, ah... She did my ink. A long while ago." He hadn't seen her in an age and a day, since he was tending bar at night while studying for, well, the bar exam.

His tattoo artist's brother looked Hob up and down, skepticism rolling off of him in waves. And, fair enough, Hob was wearing a full suit and tie appropriate for a Fortune 500 Board Room, not someone sporting any ink at all, let alone what he had. "Yeah, I know, don't look like someone who has sat for upwards of 50 hours of work." Icy eyes lingered on his chest, arms, then thighs, asking a question without speaking. "Shoulders, whole back, hips, and a bit of thighs."

Hob hoped he wasn't imagining the momentary flare in the man's nostrils, the glint of interest across his eyes.

He stepped up to the counter and smiled, but it backfired, seemed to make the other man more skittish: he dropped the pen into the notebook and hastily closed it before stepping back. "Can I help you?"

In more ways than one Hob's brain helpfully supplied as he watched those sinful lips form the words. "Yeah, I..." He made a cursory glance up at the menu on the wall. "What pairs well with 'I just quit my incredibly lucrative job so I could stick to my principles and told my cunt boss and his spineless son to fuck off as I left the building triumphant'?"

The man behind the counter smiled, a delightful hint of mischief in his eyes, and Hob's knees turned to gelatin. Fuck, he could level a city block with that smile. Hob would do just about anything for that smile.

"I think I've got just the thing..."

In this particular case, Hob had no problem putting the powers of persuasion that he learned as a lawyer to a much better use: he convinced the man, the shop's owner, Morpheus, to come round and sit with him at a table and enjoy his own scoop of creamy cold perfection. Eventually Hob cracked fully through the facade and then Morpheus couldn't seem to stop talking about different gelato flavors he wanted to develop.

"...but even with me doing my level best to drive customers away from the shop," Morpheus' ice blue eyes looked sideways at Hob and those petal soft lips smirked and, God save him, the gorgeous creature almost looked playful, "I still do not have the free time I want to do the work I really care about."

Hob hummed as he pulled the small spoon out of his mouth through tightened lips, making sure he didn't miss a molecule of the apricot and sour ale concoction. He felt a sparkling thrill as Morpheus' cheeks flushed as he watched. "You could always hire someone to help?"

Morpheus turned in his seat to face forward, folding both arms onto the tabletop. He stared at Hob for a moment and then brought one hand up to rest his chin on. "And who could I possibly find willing to do something like that," he asked, his sour cherry gelato-darkened lips curling into that deadly smile again.

And that was how Hob ended up managing the front of house at a small upscale gelato shop.

Incidentally, it was also how Hob ended up falling in love with the son of a Mafia Don and negotiating terms with the District Attorney and Federal Prosecutors to protect said son and his siblings when they brought the criminal arm of the family to justice.

But that's a totally different story. 😜

Would you ever write an ice cream stand AU where Hob quits a prestigious job to run the stand (a terrible decision) and tries to woo an eccentric artisan ice cream maker (Dream) who is actually from a huge crime family, but literally everything dangerous is played off as silly hi-jinks in favor of dramatizing Hob comparing ice cream flavors to Dream's mouth?

Oddly specific, wow. 👀

The answer is No, because I know nothing about mafia, or ice-cream, and I don't trust myself to write human AU comedy, and this sounds a bit like a comedy. But this prompt is too good to not mention it to my dear pal @delta-pavonis who thrives on mafia AUs and would probably kick this out of the park if she decided to write it~ 🥰

[classictouchtattoos]

Classic Touch Tattoos | Tattoo Shop | Tattoo Artist in Venice CA

Ours is a well-reputed Tattoo shop in Venice CA; We offer a range of tattoo styles, including traditional, fine line black and grey, and lettering, to suit your specific needs. Our experienced professionals will work with you to create a custom design that reflects your personal style and preferences. We use only the highest-quality ink and equipment to ensure that your tattoo is vibrant, long-lasting, and meets our rigorous safety standards. Moreover, as a leading Tattoo artist in Venice CA, we have the talent and creativity to bring your ideas to life. From small, intricate tattoos to large-scale, full-sleeve designs, we have you covered. So, if you want to schedule an appointment, call or visit us today.