#imagined her having a tat sleeve

[samarecharm]

What if i caved and gave Zenkichi gray hairs, huh? What then? How much further will I go? You dont know me. Ill give this man piercings if u dont stop me. Its hot. Im tired of pretending its not- *im dragged offstage kicking and screaming* ITS HOT. DONT LET THEM TELL YOU ITS CRINGE! YOU GAVE HIM LONG HAIR! LET ME GIVE HIM TATS!! 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

[rainydayathogwarts]

No more ink - Spencer Reid x reader

Summary: reader goes undercover for a mission and the team discovers all her tattoos. Tattoos which might be the reason her life ends. sprinkle of spencer x reader. Warning: gore, blood, SA kind of (if you blink you'll miss it), reader is undercover, reader becomes a stripper for like 2 secs.

Staring at the images of several murdered women, all sporting countless tattoos on their bodies, a chill is sent down your spine. What is so fetishising about tattoos? And more importantly, why were all these women so brutally killed after the assault? The uncomfortable silence in the station's big conference room is broken by JJ, who pulls out her phone, stating "Well I'm going to call someone so we can get the tattoos drawn on, Y/N are you sure you're comfortable doing this?" You nodded, adding "Yeah, but there's no need to call anyone."

Your comment had the entire team and police officers in the room looking your way, some confused, many surprised. You glance up at Spencer's reaction, hoping he didn't look disgusted at your confession. Did he dislike women with tattoos? His put together appearance always led you to believing so. "I mean, it's part of the reason I volunteered, I fit the profile the most." And it was true. Many of the women all had the same coloured and textured hair, body type, height and were all littered with tattoos. "How else are we going to get in?" You insisted, all well aware of the gang's strict policy when allowing people into the club. There would be no chance any of your male counterparts would be let in, because only women had ever been targeted by them, and looking between you and the other two women on the team, there was a clear difference between who hit the profile.

"Y/N, I've never seen you with tattoos." Things Morgan out loud, making sure he understood clearly what you meant by fitting the profile best. "People take me more seriously, professionally speaking, when they're hidden." You reply, shrugging your shoulders, which only puts an emphasis on the long sleeved top you're wearing. "Okay wait, just so we're clear here, you mean like you're heavily tatted? Not just one cute little smiley face on your ankle type of tatted?" You chuckle at Emily's small outburst, nodding along with her words. "You know what, why don't I just show you."

You end up revealing yourself to the team a mere hours later, tugging the mini black dress down your body, barely hiding your backside from any onlookers. You step out of the bathroom, basic black heels clicking loudly on the floor, attracting the attention of the team, packing up their things to head down to the van, fully equipped to keep track of you while you're inside. "Okay, I'm ready to go." There's a moment of silence in which the team fully takes in your appearance, or rather your tattoos.

A dark snake slithers up your ankle, and a mysterious year is written in bold above your knee, thigh illustrated with a mysterious design that resembles both stars and a vintage chandelier at once. Your second leg sports several patchwork pieces - an intricate compass and an angel - with two vine leaves curling around your knee, leading up to your thigh where you show off tattoos of a hummingbird and the sun. With your hair pushed back, they have a clear view of the design on your collarbone, dipping slightly into the gap between your breasts, leaving the rest to imagination. Your right arm is covered in a large abstract piece, and when you finally turn around, leaving due to the silence from your teammates, you allow them a perfect view of the wave tattoo on the back of your left arm, looping around your bicep, and a dagger tattoo on the back of your forearm.

Footsteps scurry after you, a soft hand wrapping around your wrist as you begin to leave the police station, pulling you into an empty hallway. Spencer tugs you to face him, eyes filled with worry. "Y/n, are you sure about this?" He whispers, his breath hitting your face with every word he speaks. "I'll be okay Spence." You reassure him, though you're sure he's already profiled you and can sense your nervousness.

In the van, Hotch reminds you of the protocol, securing the microphone into your dress and the clasping the necklace with a hidden camera around your neck, so that he and Garcia can monitor you from outside. They've given you a code word, and secured a silver bracelet around your wrist with a hidden alarm in the gem. Spencer squeezes your hand before you walk out of the van, a safe distance away from the cameras and insists one last time that you can back out any time you want.

You sneak into the hidden alleyway where the club is located, gulping slightly when you spot the bouncer before plastering a fake smile on your face. Everything will be okay, you repeat in your head, calming slightly when the bouncer steps aside for you to walk into a dark room. The door shuts behind you and your breathing quickens slightly, only to realise that the room isn't a room at all, because it's moving and is just an elevator instead. The doors open from behind you, welcoming you into a dark and mysterious, wide room. Red lights are on, and you can spot a stage with two poles, two exotic dancers performing a routine in exact synchrony.

Standing still, you have no idea where to start when a waiter, dressed in a black suit with his hair slicked back appears in front of you. "Champagne?" You nod, taking a glass from the tray not to look suspicious, but don't take a sip from it either. You make your way deeper into the room, swaying your body to the music, scanning the people in the club. For each man, there's at least two women by his side, giggling and brushing up against their arms, pressing kisses where skin is showing. Each woman fits the profile of those who'd been found dead, heavily tatted up, sporting the same features. Women lead men through red curtains, disappearing into different rooms, strutting proudly.

As far as the sex went, it all seemed consensual, meaning they couldn't have been unconscious or drugged before it happened, which completely changed your profile. "What's a sweet girl doing in a place like this all by herself?" You spun around, to face an older man, looking like he was in his late 40's. He sported a grey beard, and had a full head of luscious hair. He wore a crisp black button up with matching black trousers, and you could spot tattoos crawling up his neck and down his hands. "Looking for a man like you." You replied with a smirk, cocking your head to the side. He slid his free hand into yours, leading you into a round booth, where you had a clear view of the rest of the club.

"Tell me a little bit about yourself." You said before he could say anything, pressing your body up against his, and luckily for you, that's what he did. In the meanwhile, you observed the movement in the room, noticing waiters carrying garbage bags or cleaning empty tables. Weird. All the waiters seemed exceptionally muscular, but in a place like this, you would have assumed the waiters would be half naked and, well, women. "You alright, sweetheart?" The man asks, and you nod, smiling up at him sweetly. "I just need to use the bathroom. Do you think you could point me in that direction?" You ask, squeezing your thighs, where his big hand rests.

As soon as he gives you a direction, you hop up, following the first words he's told you 'Walk straight, take a left,' Once you've taken the left, finally out of the man's sight, you begin exploring the halls, becoming gradually more empty the deeper you walk into the club. For every 'private' room, which is only separated from the rest of the club by a curtain, there's a waiter (or rather security guard) standing at the entrance, protecting anyone from entering, or exiting. When you near the end of the hallway, you internally cringe. You had no where to go and a guard protecting the next room to the left. Exhaling, you stopped in front of the guard, looking up at him. "You the dancer?" He asks, and aimlessly, you nod.

You swallow when he steps to the side, letting you into the room. "Cover-up goes in the basket on your left." He instructs, before stepping back out of the room. You take a moment to take in the client, sitting on a red couch with his legs spread, shirt buttoned down all the way to his trousers. What have you done? You turn around, sighing, pulling your black dress over your body, just in time for music to start playing. You spin around, walking over the the man seductively, swaying your hips to the beat of the music until you stop in front of him, placing both hands on his chest. "Oh you're way better than the girl I had last time" The man mutters, groaning as he man spreads even more.

You have a clear view of the tent in his pants but blink a few times, trying to forget its image. Spinning to the music again, you face the wall, eyes glued on where you can see the guard's shoes in front of the curtain as you keep moving to the music. The man's hands settle on your ass, and you let him grope you, shutting your eyes in discomfort, cringing before he turns you to face him. His hands grip your hips instead, pulling you onto him and you follow, straddling his hips while swaying your body. You continue moving until the music dies down, slowing your movements alongside the decreasing volume.

The man puts his hands up, almost defensively, just in time for the guard to come into the room. He doesn't stop walking towards you until he stands right in front of you, and he grabs your arm, leading you to a different door than the one you came through. You try brushing him off you, chest constricting as anxiety builds up in you. "Can I at least have my dress back?" You ask, scoffing as he drags you into an empty room. "Sure, but I'm sure how much it'll do for you now." Instantly, you're pressing down on the gem on your bracelet, heart beginning to race as you look around the small room.

The cracks in the floorboards are stained a red-ish brown, and a single cuff is attached to a wall, where the man is trying to drag you. You recover quickly from you panicky moment, aggressively shoving him off you and bringing a leg up to push him backwards. He staggers back, but recovers quickly, bringing a knife out of his pocket and immediately charging at you. Ducking under his arm, you grab his wrist, trying to wrestle the dagger out of his hand. He stumbles, falling onto the floor, his grip loosening on the knife, which you tug back so hard it bounces back in your direction, cutting a gash through your arm. Just as you take a step forward, getting him whilst he's still down, the door slams open.

"NOBODY MOVE!" Just as you throw your hands up into the air, dropping the dagger onto the floor, a coat is wrapped around your shoulders and you're being pulled into a hug. You freeze for a moment until you smell the familiar essence of dark coffee and vanilla, melting into Spencer's arms as he whispers muffled 'It's okay's soothingly into your hair. Tears unwillingly build up in your eyes and you bring your hands up to grip the bits of Spencer's shirt that stick out from underneath his bulletproof vest.

Slowly, the coat dampens from where you cut yourself, and Spencer quickly realises, removing his arms from around you. "We need to get you to an ambulance." But even as Spencer leads you back outside, still whispering comforting words, that you'll be okay, you know it's not. Because in that moment you silently vow to yourself that you'll never get another tattoo inked into your skin ever again.

[leonslutkennedeeznuts]

Lovin' Your Skin | Tattoo Artist!Leon x Fem!Reader

"With that, Leon flexed his arms so you could get a better look. He was covered in ink. You wanted to spend all day and night tracing your fingers over the works of art inked onto his skin, hearing his stories about what each tattoo represented." (AO3) | Tattoo Artist Leon credit:  tanya.gavva

You didn’t even want a tattoo but you figured it wouldn’t be that bad. Your pain tolerance was low, you weren’t 100% certain the design you’d picked would look good on your skin forever but Leon was sooo gorgeous. Just to be near him in the tattoo parlor for a few hours would make everything so worth it. Or so you’d thought.

Leon was covered in tattoos. He had sleeves on both arms and you could see the beginning of a neck piece as you stole a few glances at him here and there. He was so focused the few times you’d gone by the shop to watch him work. He was your friend’s tattoo artist. This was all her fault really. Months ago she’d asked you to come by with her for yet another tattoo and when you’d seen the blonde haired beauty of a man who did the work, you were head over heels.

“Name’s Leon,” he’d said as he shook your hand.

Leon. A name you wanted to be screaming every night.

“What makes you want a tattoo,” he’d asked you as your friend checked out her finished piece in the mirror behind him. “It can be addicting, I must warn you.”

You didn’t want a tattoo. You wanted him. Same difference.

“Always thought about it,” you lied, awkwardly laughing. You hoped he couldn’t read the lust on your face as you caught a glimpse of him licking his lips. “Yours look really cool, very intricate.”

With that, Leon flexed his arms so you could get a better look. He was covered in ink. You wanted to spend all day and night tracing your fingers over the works of art inked onto his skin, hearing his stories about what each tattoo represented.

“Wow,” you whispered, stepping closer to get a better look. “You did these all yourself?”

Leon shook his head. “Most but not all. Couldn’t reach my back but I designed that piece myself.” He winked at you before asking. “You want to see it?”

It was pathetic how fast you shook your head yes. Leon’s body was a work of art in itself. He made a little show of taking his shirt off for you, your friend laughing and shaking her head in the background still eying her own ink. How she was immune to Leon’s charm and sex appeal was beyond you.

Leon had a rose tattoo that started the sleeve on his right shoulder, in honor of his grandmother he’d said, that led into abstract shapes, you spied a spiderweb on his elbow and even a sea turtle on his inner arm, an Eagle on his neck- you stopped trying to decipher everything and started to take in the view of his abs. He’d been getting tattooed since his 21st birthday, something he’d done with his friends on a drunken dare after failing out of the police academy but quickly discovered his love of the profession.

After opening his first tattoo shop at 27, he started designing and doing his own tattoos as best as he could to promote his business. Now he was booked up months in advance. He always made time for your friend though.

His chest wasn’t covered yet, he’d mentioned thinking of leaving that bare for now. You imagined how your hands would rest perfectly on his pecs as you rode him into oblivion.

Leon caught you staring, you weren’t really hiding it. You wondered if he was tatted up from the waist down as well, how your untouched flesh would look against his in the heat of passion, how you wanted his name breathlessly leaving your lips-

“Do you want a tattoo, seriously?” Your friend’s voice cut through the sexual tension like a knife. “I think she’s lying, Leon.”

“No, I’m serious! I do want one. I have a Pinterest board of ideas,” you spat out hurriedly. “Here,” you said, lifting up your sleeve to show the spot on your wrist where you wanted to be inked.

Leon, still shirtless, took your wrist into his hands, eying it and you. “A wrist tat, hmm? I’d be honored to be your first,” he’d simply stated. Still shirtless. Still eyeing you in disbelief.

If he wanted to call your bluff, so be it as long as he was calling you.

“Yep and maybe a neck one too, ya know, one that people can’t see unless I wear my hair up.”

Your friend rolled her eyes and began to grab her purse and car keys. From what you’d seen her tattoo was beautiful, a bright Koi fish on her left shoulder to match the aquatic sleeve she was getting done eventually.

“I will believe it when I see it, Y/N. Don’t waste Leon’s time just because you think he’s hot,” she chided jokingly as she went to the door.

Leon put his tank top back on and handed you one of his business cards, letting his fingers linger on yours for a bit too long to be an accident.

“Well, Y/N, if you’re serious here’s my contact information. I don’t have any openings really in the next few months but text me and I will see what I can do for you.” He winked at you again. “Want to see this Pinterest board of yours.”

“Oh, right, totally! I’ll send you the link.” Great, now you had to create a Pinterest board of tattoos that you hoped Leon thought were cool. Your eyes lingered to the perfect pout of his lips then to his cerulean eyes. “I can’t wait to set up my appointment with you, Leon.”

You weren’t planning to actually get a tattoo. You just wanted a way to talk to him really and the guy owned a tattoo shop, clearly that was something he was passionate about. What better way to get his attention than to get him to tattoo you himself? Right?

—-------

It was Leon that actually called you first.

After that evening in his shop, you realized that if you did reach out to him that it would be obvious you weren’t really serious about all this. You were sure women flocked at him all the time with lies about tattoos to get him in their bed. You wouldn’t be the first.

Your friend was no help. She claimed that Leon either had a girlfriend already or was hooking up with a fellow artist at another shop.

“Her name starts with J, I think,” she’d said deep in thought. “Or maybe it’s the redhead biker chick from that bar.”

But you forgot all about that when you got a call from an unknown number a few days later.

“Leon?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he confirmed with a slight chuckle. “I never heard back from you about the tattoo, was wondering if you changed your mind about seeing me.”

You always wanted to see him. From the few times you’d met he had an effect on you but he was a huge flirt. Maybe he was just trying to get a new client aka more money, nothing personal.

“Oh, I- the tattoo,” you sighed and decided to come clean. “Look, Leon, I don’t know about that anymore.”

“Understandable, I honestly figured as much.” You heard some faint background noise of a horror movie playing in the background. Seems like he was home alone on a Friday night too.

“Well, in the spirit of being honest, Y/N, I was hoping to just see you again. Tattoo or not.”

You almost dropped your phone in shock. You didn’t know what you thought Leon’s type was but it definitely wasn’t you. He seemed like a total badass, a bad boy. You were a goody two shoes overachiever working a boring 9-5 while Leon was a daredevil risk taker.

Plus you were pretty sure Leon was a little over six years older than you. Which made his admission all the more arousing. You couldn’t help the throbbing you felt between your legs now.

“Cat got your tongue,” he teased, clearly enjoying this.

“No, I’m just kind of shocked,” you admitted. “I didn’t think I was your type really.”

You thought back to the women your friend had mentioned Leon dated. You’d seen them both in passing, looked nothing like you (or one another) but they were gorgeous. You felt so basic by comparison.

Leon was silent for a bit, you almost thought he’d hung up before you heard him clear his throat. “Hmm, how about I take you out tomorrow night and show you how much of my type you are?”

It was a date.

—-------

You don’t know exactly how this happened. One minute you were agreeing to let Leon walk you to your apartment door and the next he had you wet and begging for him to fuck you, his lips on your neck definitely leaving hickeys for everyone to see that you were his. The date had gone very well to your surprise and now it was about to get even better.

First thing you noticed about Leon was that he was an amazing kisser. His hands were feeling you up all over, just enough to get you hot and bothered and leaning into his embrace silently begging for more. He sucked your tongue and grinded into you, almost dry humping on the couch before you couldn’t take anymore and told him where your bedroom was.

Leon was an animal in bed and yet still a total gentleman, which you kind of expected but nothing prepared you for the real thing. He didn’t have tattoos from the waist down, and yes you looked quite thoroughly while you were down there with his dick sliding down your throat.

You’d never enjoyed giving head before tonight, before you’d met Leon and heard his whispers, groans and moans as you sucked him. At this angle, he was able to play with your pussy and rub your clit as you licked his pre-cum covered tip before attempting to deep throat him again.

“Fuck, Y/N, so good, you’re such a good girl,” he moaned. He slipped a finger, then another into your wet pussy. “Mmm, so tight, baby.”

You couldn’t talk if you wanted to with him so deep in your mouth but you moaned around his cock, causing him to cuss under his breath and pull out completely, not wanting to cum just yet. He rubbed his shaft on your swollen lips, your mouth almost desperately trying to suck him back in.

Leon took his fingers out of your pussy and sucked on them. “Gonna enjoy eating you out,” he whispered, kissing his way down to finally taste you. “I won’t stop until you cum.”

You could’ve finished right then and there just hearing him say that. When his tongue licked your center then up to your clit, you almost screamed. It felt so good, too good. You didn’t think you were going to last long at all. Seeing Leon’s gorgeous flush face clearly enjoying the taste of you was already too much and he’d only just started.

He held you by the back of your knees, pressing them into your chest as he licked, sucked and ate you like a man starving. You’d never cum from this before, never had someone so into it. You were squirming and bucking into his mouth earning more moans from him. When his tongue dipped into your pussy you did scream, his name leaving your lips over and over as you squealed and released onto his tongue.

“Leon, I’m cumming,” you whined in an almost broken voice, your toes curling and your eyes rolling back into your head. “Oh fuck, too much,” you begged, trying to wiggle out of his grasp to no avail as he kept licking you, refusing to waste a drop of your cum. “Leon, please.”

When Leon said he wouldn’t stop until you came, what he really meant was that he wouldn’t stop until you came twice. Despite the cramp in your legs you gripped his blond hair so hard you knew it was painful for him but he didn’t seem to mind, sucking and tonguing your pussy with more vigor than before.

He slid two fingers back into your pussy and you almost accidentally kicked him due to overstimulation. You were almost boohoo crying as Leon was just eating you out without a care in the world. You had no idea what you’d do when he finally fucked you, your nails clawing up his tattooed back leaving your own imprint on his skin even if it didn’t last forever.

Leon moaned and hummed against your cunt knowing how close you were again already. “Cum for me again, Y/N.” After a few more thrusts of his fingers against your g-spot you were seeing stars. “Now.”

This time you were sure the neighbors heard you. You’d be embarrassed at how pitiful you sounded later because right now you were in the throes of passion. Leon held you down with no effort as your body jerked and bucked against his eager mouth.

Nobody had ever made you cum this hard, reducing you into a blubbering mess, begging Leon to fuck you as your sweet cum covered his mouth and jaw.

“Holy shit,” you managed to breathe out when he finally freed you from his grasp. You didn’t know if you were floating or still laying on the bed at this point. If he told you it was Christmas day you’d believe him, your mind was so frazzled. “Fucking Christ, Leon.”

His Cheshire cat grin appeared above you, eying you with pure lust and pride. Leon had never been with someone so vocal before, it definitely stroked his ego.

“Believe me now?” Leon didn’t wait for you to respond before rubbing the tip of his cock against your almost sore clit.

“How about now,” he teasingly asked before slapping his shaft on your pussy.

He was so hard, almost painfully so. He’d wanted you since the first time you’d met but figured you weren’t into guys with tattoos. Go figure.

“Leon, please, just fuck me already,” you begged. You arched your back into his embrace, staring into his eyes as kept teasing you. “I’ll believe you when you fuck me.”

You knew Leon wasn’t going to be a missionary kind of guy, nothing wrong with that position but after having it so often with your lackluster ex, you wanted something a bit more. Being folded like a pretzel on the edge of your bed as Leon slid into you, his thick cock hitting that spot inside of you that had you whimpering- just what the doctor ordered.

With a pillow under your head you had the perfect view to watch Leon fuck you hard, deep and fast. Your slick was covering his cock, the sounds of your wetness and his balls slapping against your ass the soundtrack of your fuck session as the mattress creaked underneath you.

He was caressing your bouncing tits, squeezing and pinching your hard nipples just enough to keep you on edge but not enough to push you over just yet. You could barely decipher what you were even saying, just heavy breathing, squeaking and squealing Leon’s name over and over, praising and thanking him.

“You’re taking me so well, sweetheart,” you heard him whisper above you. Leon was in awe at the sight of your tight, little pussy creaming on his cock. He made sure to get you nice and wet so you could take him all without pain. “Fuck, Y/N, I want to fill you up.”

You gripped his tattooed arms to stay grounded to reality as your orgasm crept up on you, trying to memorize every piece of ink on his flesh in case this was a one time thing- in case you were actually dreaming and he wasn’t really here with you.

“Yeah, cum in me, Leon,” you heard yourself saying. It was like an out of body experience. You honestly felt like you’d disintegrate when you finally came on his fat dick. “It’s your pussy, baby. Only yours.”

Leon thrust into you slowly as you both came hard, bodies shaking and aching as you messily kissed one another, hands roaming all over while Leon grunted and came inside of you. You made sure to rub and caress his back as he did so, enjoying how he gave into your embrace as he filled you up until his cum began dripping out.

You still weren’t sold on getting a tattoo any time soon but dating a tattoo artist who was a beast in bed wasn’t the worst thing ever, you figured as sleep took over you both.

[k9iriz]

𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝟕𝟕𝟕

𝘳𝘩𝘦𝘢 𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘺 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

(18+ ; 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙡 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚 & 𝙨𝙚𝙭𝙪𝙖𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙪𝙨𝙚𝙙)

𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘺 & 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘳𝘩𝘦𝘢/𝘥𝘰𝘮!, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳/𝘴𝘶𝘣, 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 & 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬, 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 & 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 (𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸/ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬), 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 + 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨/𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳.

this is gonna be long.

“𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐭? 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭.”

you would say i could be crazy or delusional to wanna fuck my therapist, but it’s an fantasy I’ve had for awhile.

her hands gripping my thighs open while she eats my soul out, under so many restraints? was something i craved.

I had so many dreams of her just…fucking me senseless, and my brain wonders everywhere any session.

she’s just…so fucking fine. the way her hands could fit around my throat, her voice could make me wet in one sentence…it wasn’t even a crave to have her.

it was a immediate want.

I got a sex therapist for personal reasons, never did I ever think they would put me with a female therapist.

I grew a want from her when I first seen her, she was sweet but dark by her appearance.

My session was today, me scheduling it randomly, it was something I really needed to get off my chest.

she needed to know how i feel.

I sat across from her as i fiddled with my fingers, biting on my lip slowly, staring at her cleavage through her open black shirt.

Thrown off, staring at her tatted hands, with all the rings on them, slickly as she wrote on her notepad, making my panties damp.

Her office was dark, but it was a beautiful sight.

All I could see was her bending me over on her couch, just fucking me until my brain melted.

“Welcome back y/n. Didn’t expect you back so soon after Monday.” Rhea smiled, walking over to sit on the front of her desk, slickly manspreading.

I mentally moaned, choking at her speaking to me, knocking me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah. I-I just wanted to tell you in person, that I’ve been having sexual dreams…alot of them.” I explained, clicking my tongue.

“That sounds like progress. Is your partner is fulfilling your desires and dreams to have them reoccurring?” Rhea asked, rolling her sleeve ends up.

damn, i forgot…im married.

He was okay…in the romance department. But he doesn’t make me feel…the way rhea mentally makes me feel.

I played with my ring as I bit on my lip in nervousness, making rhea tilt her head at me.

“I mean…*sighs* he satisfies my needs as he should…but, the dreams aren’t about him. That’s why i came today.” I nervously said, looking up at her, hoping she didn’t catch on so fastly.

Rhea paused. “That’s fine, it fuels the sexual desire for your partner if you’re imagining it. I do it sometimes.” Rhea smiled, she was married as well.

Internal anger rised inside of me, seeing her smile at that statement, knowing she had a whole wife.

Fake agreeing, nodding at her statement.

“Hm, let’s do an exercise.” Rhea said as she turned me around, facing a mirror as i relaxed at her hands touching my thighs, slightly spreading my legs apart.

“Now, close your eyes, and imagine your partner behind you instead of me, and imagine them just kissing on you.” Rhea assured, making me breathe out, closing my eyes.

All I could see was her.

Her hands moving to my neck, and all down my breast area, just feeling her breathe on my neck and kissing all my sweet spots.

“Now, do you see it?” Rhea asked.

I couldn’t lie.

“I just can’t imagine him. No matter how hard i try.” I frowned, as rhea tilted her head again, sitting back at her desk, thinking of something else.

“Okay. How about you tell me…who are you thinking about in these dreams?” Rhea asked, looking at me as i felt a lump get caught in my throat.

I silently debated if I wanted to tell her or not…

“I’m not gonna judge you, it’s a judgement free zone love.” Rhea said, making my legs squeeze shut at how her accent laced of off ‘love.’

I looked up at her as i sat up, spitting it out. “You.”

Rhea paused, as she was really taken back on what my awnser was, slowly running her hands down her pants as she shook her head.

“Is that what you really scheduled this appointment for? To tell me that?” Rhea asked, as i slowly nodded, feeling my cheeks get hot.

“You know we’re married right?” Rhea pointed her finger between us, looking at me like she could yank me up at any second.

I nodded as i looked down at my hands, slowly sliding my ring off, throwing it across the room, making rhea stare at the whole interaction.

She was impressed, i didn’t even have to speak, i always spoke with actions.

Rhea stood up as she smirked, that damn smirk. It had so many intentions behind it, not knowing what she was gonna do.

“Can you please…help me?” I asked boldly, as bit my lip at her.

Rhea chuckled, before she opened her desk compartment, pulling out handcuffs, along with some other toys, making my eyes go wide.

“Take it off.” Rhea spoke only, referring to my clothes as i gulped, slowly taking them off, knowing i purposefully didn’t wear any undergarments, making her walk over to me.

“Fucking slut, no panties?” Rhea asked, hovering over us, before she grabbed my hair, bending me over in front of the mirror on the couch, making me gasp at her sudden actions.

Rhea ran her hands up and down my ass, slapping it one time, making me jump.

I could metal clanking as she slowly tied my hands up with her belt, slowly feeling her tug at it, bringing my head to drape at her shoulder.

“Look how pretty you look princess.” Rhea whispered in my ear as she slowly draped her hand down to my clit, rubbing it in circles as i felt myself moan softly, her teasing her fingers between my wet folds, slowly tapping my sensitive clit.

“This is what you wanted the whole time huh? Fucking your therapist? Fucking slut.” Rhea growled in our ear, slowly draping her fingers in our entrance as i felt my loud moan being cut off by her freehand, shoving her fingers down my throat.

Her pulling her fingers out of my throat as she easily pulled her fingers out of my clit, as her hand choked me, giving me so little of air to breathe, you were so shocked by all the sudden movements, you couldn’t even speak.

a hard slap came over our face, her towering us, with our legs were shaking at the action, as she stared at me.

scoffing, “such a slut.” she slowly seen me smile, biting my lip as my spit was covered in her fingers, all down my chin and chest, as she released her hand from my neck, taking her hands, pulling off her pants, she was ready for this.

you didn’t know she carried a strap-on all the time, especially on her.

it made you even wetter.

“turn around.” she spoke as i fully arched my back, looking up at her in the mirror as she came behind me.

me whining in anticipation, pressing back against her as i was almost damned to speak, i felt her fill me up, my eyes rolled back into my skull, i could hear her chuckle from behind me.

(let’s act like the couch is like one of those ‘bed’ couches, okay?)

my hands balled up into fists as i felt her dig her nails in my sides, leaving slight claw marks as i bit my lip, hearing the sounds of my wetness already, as her hand trailed down my back slowly, that right there.

touch was consistency, and she was gonna be hands on.

“clenching on me already sweetness?” her voice laced with dominance, a hint of teasing, sarcastically watching me become a mess under her.

“fuck. you’re doing so good darlin’…tell me, how am i making you feel? talk to me.” rhea leaned down, as my cheeks were pure red from embarrassment, feeling my hands giving me no advantage, since they were tied up.

“i-it feels so g-good…” as a slight squeal came from behind it, feeling her hand come into contact with my ass, leaving a mark.

“better than your husband hm?-” her being cutting off, with my hands scuffling through the belt, almost loosening them before rhea stopped, seeing i was trying to come untied, pushing back away from her, making the dildo slide out with ease, as she smirked to herself, gaining an idea, taking it off your hands.

i wanted to touch her.

rhea didn’t have a problem with it, it gave her fuel not to go easy on you.

disobedient.

“where do you think your going? huh?” rhea growled, pushing back with some much force, wrapping her hand around our ends of hair, pulling it.

a loud scream laced the office, as a stinging hard slap came across my face, making tears fall down my face as her pace gotten faster, instantly hitting my spot, feeling that orgasm creeping apon me.

“we’re quiet i see…let me fix that.” rhea smirked, as my head was yanked back far, staring up at her with glossy eyes as my moans were struggling to come out, making her smile.

“ouuu-fuck!”

“now, like i said, where the fuck where you going?” rhea asked me, making her slap my ass again, as my eyes met with hers as her strokes were rough and slow paced, as she watched the ripples in our ass come about.

“n-nowhere…o-oh my godddd.” you dragged out as a cry, feeling yourself begging she didn’t rip you apart, but you loved it, taking it all.

“mmm, look at you pretty. those pretty little tears of yours, so fucked out. take a look princess. take a look for mami, please?” rhea praised, looking at our eyes in the mirror, as i shook my head, feeling my climax come on, as she abused my sweet spot.

“you weren’t fuckin’ shy until you were in this mirror, fuckin’ look at it.” rhea growled in our ear, feeling her sick on our earlobe, feeling your eyes open, not wanting to piss her off further, she was so gorgeous fucking your brains out.

you two were making…some type of love you never made before.

you two made each other feel something nothing your spouses couldn’t, the tension…the energy, it was all there.

“i-im gonna c-cum!” i squealed, as more more tears came out, biting your lip as i chanted her name under my breath.

her pulling out as you felt yourself whine, her picking you up with so much ease, as your hands wrapped around her neck, how could a married woman fuck me…with her wedding ring on?

ruthless.

“oh god…y/n. you feel so good against me.” rhea felt herself moan against your lips, that sexual tension, you two knew how deep this was besides sessions.

her holding our legs up as her eyes contacted with mines, pushing us up against a wall, bound to take my soul as i arched my back from the cold wall, she began pounding into me, in place as i lost it.

she knew i was close, she was so sweaty, and so was i.

my mouth dropped open as my eyes were in my skull damn near, feeling her whisper sweet nothings to me, as our foreheads touched, it was so intense.

“tell me…tell me who fucks you better princess.” rhea smirked, feeling my legs shake between her arms.

“you!” i moaned, as bit my lip at her, i could just cum from the eye contact.

“who makes you feel good?” rhea whispered to us.

“you, baby.”i stuttered, that only she could hear out, it all came together, running your hands through her hair, caressing it

i nodded my head as i let out a loud cry, feeling myself about to literally…release, as she made all the love bites across my neck… hitting my sweet spot.

squirt & cum.

“cmon, one more just for me… cum all over me. bitch.”

“im cumming…oh shit-” i stopped myself as i felt myself shake, her looking down as a long moan released, seeing my bottom half was wet, and hers as rhea bit her lip, as she carried you back to the couch, you on top of her.

i looked down at her, as i grabbed her hand, stuffing two fingers in my mouth, the finger with the ring on it, before pulling it out of my mouth, throwing the ring across the room like she did mines…

her staring up at me as she wrapped her hand around my neck, pulling me into a nasty, sloppy kiss, that i’ve been yearning for.

“get a divorce & ill divorce mines. i want you.”

beginning to end. a start of a web of lies &

a love triangle.

made it nasty as possible,

here you go. ill get even nastier. 😉 - kai.

(give feedback so i can interact more and to see if im doing good!)

[apomaro-mellow]

Whatever Stevie Wants 5

Part 4

Eddie sat on the floor, Vanessa before him as he changed her diaper, giggling at the man’s dramatics.

“Who’s the stinky one? It’s you! You’re so stinky!” He made a show of sniffing her wrapped up diaper and falling over to the stench, making her giggle louder.

Violet was crawling around, grabbing things that interested her before tossing them away, sometimes just barely missing her sister. Steve watched them, heart so full it was hard to imagine a parent seeing their pups any other way. How could anyone look at their own children and not see a precious gift?

Just as he was sighing, his phone rang and a chill ran down his spine, seeing that it was his mother. Steve walked off, ignoring as Eddie called out to him as he went into another room to answer.

“What do you want?”

“Hello to you too, son.”

Steve sighed, exhausted already. “You’re calling because you want something. Just tell me.”

“All I want is to tell you we’ll be in town soon. So are you going to house us in that musician’s house or do your father and I have to make other arrangements?”

“Oh I don’t know mother, I’ll have to ask my alpha permission. And I’ll have to warn you, he’ll probably say no. So let me just say no for him. No.”

“Oh don’t be childish. We’ll be flying in next week. Kisses.”

And then she hung up on him.

He wasn’t sure if he should talk about it at all, but there was no use hiding it. The moment he stepped out and crossed paths with Grant, he could smell the distress on him.

“What happened?”, he asked, making Eddie look up from his playtime with the twins.

“Did something happen?”

Steve sat down in the nest, smiling as Vanessa crawled toward him. “My mom called. She and my dad will be coming for a visit.”

He told them the whole conversation, repeating the news when Jeff and Gareth came down. He knew he was right to be cautious when the others shared his apprehension. He had talked at length about his life under his parents’ thumb. Steve had reached out several times before, during, and after his pregnancy and they had nary a word to say to him.

This sudden visit was suspicious, at least to them.

“Maybe they just finally got the stick outta their ass and wanna see their only grandkids”, Wayne suggested.

Violet had been using her dad as a jungle gym and her eyes got wide as she watched her grand-uncle.

“They’re gonna have their first word any week now and I need it to not be ass”, Steve said, only for Vanessa’s head to turn toward him.

“It’s like they know which ones are the bad words”, Jeff snickered.

-------------------

Eddie went with Steve to meet his folks at some bistro. It was upscale for sure. But the kind of upscale Steve had grown up in. 

“It’s nice to finally meet the alpha that snatched up my boy”, Layton said, clapping Eddie on the back while shaking his hand. It was the kind of nicety that hid a blow in plain sight. His father smiled while outright stating his contention with Eddie.

“Where are the girls? Are they with you?”, Margaret asked, looking around as if she missed them.

“They’re at home”, Steve said as they took their seats.

Eddie had actually buttoned up for this. It was a deep red, but the long sleeves hid his tats. They had to search deep in the closet for that one. 

“And this one, Eddie is the sire of your-”

“Just one of them”, Steve said. “Jeff is the sire of the other.”

Layton’s brow pinched in confusion and Eddie was a little mad at how similar he looked to Steve.

“I thought you had twins.”

“I do”, Steve confirmed, taking out his phone to find pictures. “It was one of those miracles.” He found one that showed Eddie holding Violet and Jeff holding Vanessa.

Margaret’s eyes got a little wide while her husband’s squinted. “Oh”, she said at first. “Well my my the world is, well it’s just full of little miracles isn’t it?”

“They’ll be a whole year old in a few months”, Steve said.

“And you’ve been doing the whole, rockstar thing still?”, Layton asked Eddie.

“Livin’ the dream”, Eddie shrugged. “I got the best job and the best partner in crime.” He kissed Steve’s cheek.

“Oh that’s sweet”, Margaret said. “Steve, have you heard from Nick Odell lately? He’s doing quite well for himself.”

“From Nicky? I haven’t talked to him since high school”, Steve said. 

“He took over his father’s business a year ago. And he has a house up in New York.”

“Good for him”, Steve nodded, knowing what she was doing.

Their brunch was fine, if a bit tedious. Whenever Steve showed no interest in any of the people his mother brought up, she just mentioned another. Even going so far as to give him the name of an alpha who was already married. But according to his mother it was a well known secret that his wife’s family was infertile, so it was sure to end soon.

Despite all that, they didn’t seem invested in actively making Steve end things with his pack. And how could he? A mating bite could be undone with an intense procedure, sure. But he had pups in the world now. 

So they agreed that they could meet the twins and did so at a public park. This time, Jeff joined them. He and Steve specifically talked and had a conversation about things his rich, conservative, traditionalist parents might say.

“It’s safe to say none of the alphas they ever tried to set me up with ever strayed far from a certain color palette”, Steve said as his mother and father walked up to the picnic table the five of them were sitting at.

“They’re just darling!”, Margaret exclaimed, reaching right for Violet, who was still in her carrier. “You must be Violet.”

“And this little filly must be Vanessa”, Layton said as he sat down across from them. 

Vanessa sat in Jeff’s lap, turning the pages of a children’s book took quick to actually be looking at anything on said pages. But simply doing the motions seemed to entertain her.

“Oh, she’s a little darker than the picture you showed us”, Margaret blurted out. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

“Nothing wrong at all”, Layton agreed.

“It’s just that one can’t help but wonder what she’ll look like in a few months, or years even.”

Steve patted Jeff’s leg while Eddie looked like he wanted to snatch his pup from this woman’s arms.

“Yeah well, Jeff and I have been looking at our own baby photos to try and predict too, but it’s like she’s her own original person”, Steve’s smile was tight.

“But this little ball of sunshine is like a carbon copy of the Munson blueprint”, Eddie beamed at Violet and she returned it with a gummy smile of her own. “Her battery doesn’t quit and she uses that energy to be a little terror. She’s a devil of destruction, yes she is~”

Violet giggled even more as her dad tickled her and the conversation continued just a bit more easily after that. It was still a little stilted, but his parents didn’t say anything outright offensive. Steve didn’t know if he should feel upset that they gave more attention to Violet than Vanessa. It was almost like they weren’t quite sure how to feel about her or Jeff.

And Steve didn’t know how to feel about that. It was weird, this whole thing was weird. It would have been easy if they begged for forgiveness and resolved to be better parents and loving grandparents from now on. It also would have been easy if they just straight up insulted his family, throwing out slurs and classist ideologies so there could be a huge blow up that signified the complete end of their relationship.

But neither of those happened. They weren’t the best and they weren’t the worst. Steve said as much on the drive home, the girls fast asleep in their carriers.

“I mean, I’ve seen worse”, Jeff noted. “One time I dated this chick and her dad kept bringing up how dark our babies would be. Even went as far as to ask me to do one of those ancestry things.”

“Christ on a cracker”, Eddie said from the driver’s seat. “So we’re really doing this? We’re gonna let them be a part of it?”

Steve sighed and looked at his two girls. He wanted them to grow up surrounded by love, in all shapes and forms. “I heard people who were terrible parents sometimes turn out to be really doting grandparents.”

He didn’t want to look back and regret not giving his parents the chance if they were actually willing to put forth the effort. And all they were really asking for were grandparent privileges, visits, fun trips, that sort of thing.

“Alright, but if they kidnap you and try to brainwash you back into their WASPy life, you owe me ten bucks”, Jeff said.

Part 6

I'm kinda torn bc I have two plots in mind w/the Harringtons one is more down to earth, as I feel like most of this fic series has been while the other is the kind of melodrama that likes of which one would find in the tenth season of a soap opera. I guess read on to find out which I pick.

[mykneeshurt]

I love your writings! Can I request the COD boys with a s/o who is covered in tattoos from the top of their neck to their ankles. Preferably where they usually where clothes that cover them fully, then for whatever reason they are wearing something like a tank top and shorts and they see their tattoos for the first time <3 thanks

I don’t see a lot of fics where the person is heavily tattooed, if any tattoos at all

My OC in Don’t fear the Reaper is heavily tattooed 😏 I’m poor so can’t afford any more tattoos at the moment, so im living vicariously through her. If you wanted Rudy and Alejandro let me know and I can add them in! Female reader!

Price

You and Price had been seeing each other secretly for a few months, ever the gentleman he kept the pace slow. Allowing yourselves to get to know each other before any hanky panky.

You usually wore a long sleeved layer with long trousers and your boots around base. Never really showing any skin, which Price didn’t mind, it was essentially a tease. Leaving your body and skin to his imagination.

That was until one night when you were in the gym, you couldn’t sleep so decided to release some endorphins instead. You were on the resistance bike, sweat dripped from your brow onto the floor. Music was blasting from your headphones, you were in your own world.

Price had just finished his paperwork which had kept him up past midnight. As he trudged to his room he walked past the gym and noticed the light on. As he peered around the door he saw you figure on the bike.

He couldn’t quite believe his eyes. There you were, sat in all your sweaty glory. You wore shorts and a sports bra revealing a multitude of tattoos all over your body. From your neck to your ankles. An array of art decorated every part of skin he could see. Black and grey, colour, black out ink, all of it. He wanted to trace his fingers all over your body to feel how the ink felt on your skin, to feel the art beneath his finger tips.

Feeling someone watching you, you spun around to see your Captain staring at you. Your gaze softened and beckoned him to come to you.

Soap 🧼

It was a rare sunny day outside so you decided to swap your usual long sleeved attire to a tank top. The jeeps needed attending to so you decided to take advantage of the hot weather.

You were elbow deep in an engine trying to find out why the engine light kept coming on, when you heard a whistle behind you. Turning round to give one of the troops a piece of your mind your eyes met Johnny stood open mouthed. ‘Yes?’ You asked somewhat confused.

‘Just never seen your tats before, steamin Jesus … they’re incredible.’ He stood and took in your neo traditional tattoos, a mixture of Japanese and Art deco ink littered over your skin. ‘They’re just tattoos Johnny. Christ’ you laughed.

‘Yeah but I ain’t ever seen you this … uncovered. Fuckin incredible.’ You felt a blush creep up on your skin as you rubbed your arms.

Johnny came over and started to map out each of your tattoos, telling you which ones were his favourites. You pointed out which one was your first and which one was your most recent. Which one had a story, which one didn’t, he took in every word as he stroked your skin.

Ghost 💀

You were in the changing rooms after a sparring session and you were getting ready to get in the shower. As you pulled your top of you suddenly felt a set of eyes bore into you. Looking up you saw Ghost, his eyes raked up and down your body. ‘Fuckin hell love, didn’t realise you had tatts.’

You smirked showing off your body, ‘what these?’ You winked at him. Your body was covered in a mixture of realistic and black work geometric tattoos. Looking at his half forearm sleeve you smirked ‘puts yours to shame don’t it.’ He let out a breathy chuckle ‘cheeky minx.’

You spun around so he could have a look at the tattoos on your back, realistic skulls, flowers, portraits all adorned you. He pulled you in close, ‘I suggest you get in the shower, get cleaned up and come to my room. I wanna take a closer look at some of these’ he winked.

Gaz 🇬🇧

You were sat in the canteen with Gaz one morning when a load of new recruits came barging in. As they pushed their way past your table one spilt their drink all over you. ‘Fuck sake!’ You yelled throwing your hands in the air. Gaz grabbed some napkins for you as you removed your top, luckily it hadn’t gone through to your vest.

As Gaz turned to give you the napkins he was met with your tattooed body. He felt his breath hitch in his throat, he didn’t think he could fancy you anymore than he did. ‘Where you been hiding them?!’ He gestured to your body ‘we’ve been seeing each other a month and you kept these beauties to yourself!’

Giggling you took the napkins from him ‘you never asked!’ You were covered in traditional old school tattoos, a death moth covered your chest which was surrounded by roses and hearts. He couldn’t take his eyes off his new found treasure in front of him.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Some nasty boy thoughts

I have to get this out of my head (sorry if this has been mentioned before)

I firmly believe König wouldn’t like you having tattoos.

Like imagine, in bed he turns you on your stomach and sees your back piece (not necessarily something big) for the first time and he just freezes.

And you would look over your shoulder with a grin: "Isn’t it cool, yeah?"

Boy would be SWEATING.

Why would you tarnish you beautiful sacred innocent skin with that????? The only thing bruising your skin should be his marks and only his.

I think he would try to cover it with hickeys or cum

On the other hand he’s a nasty boy, so he would love if you got his name or a crown tatted somewhere on your hip. Maybe on your pubic-bone but only if he gets to do it, no-one is allowed to see what’s his

Oh my gosh.

The larger the tat, the bigger his eyes get. If you have a sleeve, not to mention two, König would quite frankly be disturbed. Those are practically boy tattoos and belong in the rock’n’roll world, why would you want to look like this? It's messing with his head. (Guy's secretly obsessed with them)

Or a large back piece, why would a girl want to cover her beautiful, divine, soft body with a brutal thing like that? You must've fainted from the pain...

A cute lil tattoo on your wrist or ankle, on the nape of your neck would be understandable. He might even kiss those adorable little things. But a back or a neck tat or heaven forbid a tattoo between your breasts?? (He’s gonna cover it with cum you can bet your bottom dollar on that)

AND LOL tattooing his name or a crown (you’re a genius anon), then running to him and showing the fresh piece tattooed right there on your pelvis, hah, König is going to lose his marbles...

"Look what I got," you smile as you open your jeans and pull the fabric down to show the new addition. "Now you’re always with me, big boy!"

König can’t even speak, he simply looks at the tiny crown, the symbol of kings, inked right there on top of his holy sanctuary. Even tinier are the five small letters under the symbol, and after a few seconds of intense staring he makes out the little word that says: 'KÖNIG.'

"Well...? Do you like it?"

He blinks – he’s now forever there on your skin. It looks like a badge, no, a mark that you’re his. Cattle or no, you’ve been branded, and he's simply overwhelmed with pride.

He goes to his knees, tries to keep his hand from trembling when it rises to touch you. His brow gives a twitch as his fingers land on the ink, sweep over it – he relishes how you gasp. He wants to kiss it, run his tongue over it, bite and suck until you tremble and moan… But something is choking his intestines, something foul is rising into his mouth like bile.

Someone else has branded you, someone else has touched you while you’ve lain half-naked and helpless under a tattooing machine.

"Who did it," he asks. It’s more of a demand, really.

"Um. It’s this guy I usually go to," you shrug above him. It’s his hand that gives a twitch now, right before he rises like a tide and a tempest.

"...What?!"

[corner-stories]

6 pokkopiku

June Prompts 🌼

6. Tattoo high school au

Their high school is abuzz in early June. While seniors fret over what they'll do with their lives for the foreseeable future, every other student frets over having to be here for at least another year.

Being a junior, Pieck is somewhere in the middle. Her mind is only partially on college prospects — specifically, how many essays she'll have to write about how she faced adversity, but in a way that doesn't scream "please let me in, I've told the story of my dead mother a thousand times, let her rest."

She had been warned that her senior year would go by quickly, making her cautious as to what she does with her school time now. But at this one particular moment, one where she is not plagued with the panic of finally entering the real world, a sense of ease permeates her every fiber.

For now she relaxes on the bleachers, random noises from the football field filling the atmosphere. Porco is by her side, letting her rest her head on his lap as the afternoon goes on.

They do this often, taking time out of their free periods to reconvene somewhere on-campus. It's usually the library, where Porco can bother her while she studies, but with weather getting warmer they've been opting to meet outdoors more often.

As Pieck lies back and Porco watches the football team trip over themselves, her eyes are focused on him. Despite the sun shining in her face she manages to glance upon his arm, noticing something unfamiliar on his skin.

Pieck takes Porco's arm and rolls his sleeve back, exposing what appears to be marker ink on his wrist.

"What the hell is on your arm?" Pieck asks, running her thumb over a sharpie doodle of a dagger.

Porco rolls his eyes but doesn't pull away. "Yeah, I got really bored in biology."

Pieck lets out a chuckle before sitting up. She stretches a bit from her power nap, then adjusts her position on the bench so that she's perched beside her best friend.

"Ever think of getting one for real?" she asks. There is a playful quality to her voice.

"Probably," Porco shrugs. "Once I turn eighteen and my parents can't tell me no." He adjusts his sleeve so that his 'tattoo' is covered up, but the way the fabric shifts on his arm reveals that a dagger isn't the only thing he doodled on himself. Though the smiley face doesn't really compliment the knife that well.

Pieck hums. Personally, she really wants to be around on the off-chance that Porco goes through on his words. Considering how Mrs. Galliard nearly had a heart attack when Porco willingly got his fuckboy haircut, Pieck can only imagine the drama that would ensue if he revealed some sick ink.

"You'd look good with some tats," Pieck remarks. She eyes his arm again and imagines some elaborate artwork painted onto his sleeve.

"Oh yeah?" Porco asks, raising an eyebrow. "What kind?

She shrugs, then playfully reaches to the small of his back. She tugs at the fabric of his shirt, revealing the skin above the waistband of his pants.

"Oh... I'm thinking maybe a tramp stamp back here-"

Porco is quick to swat her hand away, which he only ever does when she's telling a few too many dumb jokes, which is often.

"Real helpful, Pieck," he scoffs bitterly. "Real helpful."

[mikalara-dracula]

Which of the Mukami and Sakamaki would have a girlfriend who has tattoos?

Which of the Sakamaki & Mukami brothers would have a girlfriend with tattoos?

Warning: 18+ content below; don't read if you're a minor and aren't comfortable with slight NSFW and the concept of tattoos. This is a fictional work and should not be taken seriously.

Caution: Unfortunately, Tumblr has a history of admins quarreling over completing carbon copy asks due to users sending the same request(s) to multiple admins, thus, resulting in unintentional plagiarism. With this, please DO NOT send the same request to multiple blogs as it can cause unintended plagiarism discord to other blogs across Tumblr. The word “plagiarism” stems from the early 17th-century Latin word, “plagiarius,” meaning “kidnapper.” So please, do not send in the same request to multiple blogs and make admins appear to be “kidnapping” other people’s work when it isn’t their intention. If this is to occur with any of my posts, please contact me so we can work something out.

Hi there, Anon!

This is a great question! Tbh, the Diaboys are old-fashioned considering they've been around for centuries. So, some things might be a little hard for them to like and/or accept in modern society. Tattoos were once seen as taboo and masculinized since mostly men had them at a certain point in time. So, some of the boys might view tattoos on a woman to be contradicting considering tattoos have masculine roots. However, I'll admit that some of the boys have become a bit more accustomed to modern culture than others out of the bunch. So...

Shu, Ayato, and Laito find small tattoos on a girl to be sexy in all honesty, especially if their girl has them in places where most can't see and that they have a significant meaning. And if their girl tattoos their names somewhere secretive on their body, they're more than amused and turned on.

Subaru finds large tattoos to be attractive on a girl. Sleeves, ribcage, back tattoos, you name it, he's all for it on a girl. He ranges between emo/punk/minorly goth in appearance, and probably has a few secret tattoos Rejet doesn't want us to know about, so having an s/o with tattoos is something he's all for. Plus, you can best bet he'd enjoy tracing his girl's tattoos when getting intimate with her.

Ruki wouldn't mind a girl with small tattoos. He finds these types of marks on a girl to be interesting and a significant part of her character since it took courage to even get one to begin with. But honestly, Ruki may not mind his girl having tattoos, but he prefers giving her tattoos himself if you know what I mean. ;)))

Kou doesn't mind if his girlfriend has tattoos. He's an idol and he's seen a lot of shit in the industry, so it's led him to become more modernized about the idea. He doesn't mind if they're big or small, and it honestly fascinates him if there's a specific meaning behind his girl's tattoos.

Yuma finds tattoos on a girl to be attractive in all honesty. I secretly bet he has some on that chiseled chest of his. This man gardens and you can only imagine how good he looks with his shirt off and showing off 'dem tats. Fuck. Anyways, he likes large tattoos on his girl. He doesn't mind if they're small, but there's just a thing about large tattoos on a girl that piques his interest.

[demonbirdsforever]

The New Suicide Squad

They’ve been talking about how a hero by the name of Dream Girl is gonna be team leader for a New Suicide Squad. Normally I’m iffy with DC comics cause I never know what I’m gonna get but this time. I’m completely done before it even gets started. Cause this Suicide Squad has Black Alice on it. Now I just want to point out that I have no problem with Black Alice. What I’ve seen has made her an interesting character.

The problem is that Alice is obviously being used to combat the Magically inclined on the Hero’s side. Again not a big issue except most everyone sees Raven as just magical. When in actuality she has 2 (or 3 If you choose to see her soul self as a separate thing) sets of powers. She is both a Magic user and a Psychic. Every time they bring a magical absorber into the mix. They instantly defeat Raven. It’s…. very… half assed. Every time they want the bad guy to win. They nerf Raven. I understand that Raven is an OP character. I understand that there aren’t that many characters who are on par with her, but seriously if you can give Superman a proper fight. Then you should be able to do so with Raven. Cause apparently Superman & Raven are equal on the power scale. ( I’m pretty sure this is only when Raven is dealing with her father’s influence and not when she’s White or Dark Raven)

Anyway I’m honestly don’t want anything to do with this comic series. There’s so many things deliberately missing when a fight between Raven & Black Alice occurs that it’s a complete and utter joke. I also imagine they’re going to do something similar to Constantine as well. Even though he has the Synchronicity Wave & a whole bunch of magical objects. As well as his Tats. He should have something up his sleeve if he ends up dealing with Magical Absorption.🧐

[lylikers]

Does harrow have tattoos? I would like to see them please

oh this is so late but yes these harrows are meant to be tatted (those doodles are part of a larger personal modern au belonging to me and my good friend @aurdwynn). i wish i could show you in detail what i imagine her tattoos look like but i lack the motivation and talent to plot and illustrate entire sleeves hence the random arm scribbles. here are a couple i could see her with though

i've always thought it'd be fun and silly for a hypothetical modern au harrow to have a pinup style tattoo that looks vaguely like alecto as a sort of meta homage. i read a fic once also where they gave her one of those sternum wishbone tattoos using skeletal hands.. which seemed characteristically goth and cheesy of her. generally i imagine harrow to be the kind of person who will get 'whatever looks cool' and not really care who or where it is coming from. she is getting tattoos at Some Guy's House

a tatted harrow for the road <3

[warblingstatic]

How do tattoos work in your art? Like If you’re drawing anthropomorphic animals then aren’t they covered in fur? Is it just really well placed hair dye? (I know it’s not that deep and you probably only draw it because tattoos look cool but I’d love to hear whatever explanation you have)

oh sure, yeah! i imagine it as hair dye over buzzed fur... so something that would last a few days, then get buzzed over and dyed again. i used to draw june with different tats to illustrate that but lately i've been defaulting to her original sleeve. :3

as for how it's applied and how to make it practical, i'm honestly not sure... i've been wanting to illustrate june with her "tattoo" artist while they work, and i guess i'll flesh out the idea some more there.

relevant:

[shallyne]

Yours

It's my first smut, don't judge. This took me forever

Words: 1.3k

TW: explicit sexual content

Feyre had danced the entire evening with her friends, switching her dance partner every few dances when a new song started playing but there was always one constant, his burning gaze on her. Maybe that's why she was careful to stay in rhythm, to swish her hips slightly more and gliding her hands over her body, having Rhysand's attention always where she wanted it.

The last two dances with more, she hadn't paid as much attention to him as she should, losing herself in the music and enjoying the atmosphere only to find that Rhys didn't watch her anymore, he didn't even sit in their booth anymore. Fanning her face with her hand, she let her eyes do a sweep through Rita's, with no luck.

"I have to step outside for a minute," Feyre told her best friend, disappointment settling deep that Rhys had left. Probably with another woman even. That thought left a sour note, making Feyre ball her fists and take a deep breath. Rhys and Feyre weren't anything, she didn't have any right to be jealous.

Mor's brown eyes settled on Feyre, her brows furrowing in worry, "Do you want me ro come with you? Or one of the boys?"

Feyre smiled at her, grateful to have such a friend as Mor, "Thank you but that won't be necessary, I just need to cool down for a moment." She gave her a quick peck on the cheek and then meandered through the crowd, slowly finding her way to the door at the far back. As she walked by a mirror, Feyre fixed the high ponytail on her head and checked her makeup. The red lipstick she got from Mor, her mascara and eyeliner still looked fine. Satisfied, she pushed open the door and climbed the three stairs into the dark alleyway that was only lit by a flickering neon sign.

Her eyes instantly fell to a figure that stood partly in the shadows and Feyre went rigid until she recognized the familiar form, holding a cigarette.

"I thought you stopped smoking," Feyre drawled, her voice instantly becoming lower, taking a sultry tone. It was a game between them, the flirting, the banter. They had never crossed a physical line, if you ignore the prolonged eye contact and fleeting touches, but emotionally? They crossed so many lines that Feyre had lost count.

"I only smoke occasionally," Rhys replied, putting it away as and fully turned towards Feyre, hands sliding in his pockets, "I'm barely smoking these days."

"So, what's the occasion?" Feyre asked, taking slow steps toward him. Rhys paused, taking in Feyre. She wore a silver dress, barely covering her ass. It had a deep neckline and glittered like a thousand stars. The clicking of Feyre's high heels on the asphalt was the only sound between them. When Rhys's eyes wandered down to her legs, Feyre was pretty sure that she had imagined Rhys's shaky exhale.

His eyes snapped back up to hers when she stopped a few feet before him, faintly tilting her head, still waiting for an answer.

"What are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be inside and dancing?" He changed the topic.

Feyre shrugged, kicking a pebble away with her shoe, "I had to cool off for a moment." Rhys nodded, something heated creeping into his gaze. It was October, the autumn air was crisp but Feyre wasn't cold at all. She had wanted to cool off but it was nearly impossible under Rhys's gaze. "I thought you left," she admitted.

A smile tugged at Rhys's mouth as he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. Something in Feyre's voice had probably given more away than she wanted, leaving her vulnerable, "Did you think I left with another woman?"

She avoided his gaze, looking at his arm. Rhys had rolled his sleeves up to his elbow, showing off his tattoos, "Yes," Feyre admitted, feeling a heaviness pooling in her lower belly.

"Are you jealous?" Rhys asked as breathlessly as Feyre felt.

"I'm not answering this."

"Why?"

Her bright blue painted fingernails softly scraped his forearm, her fingers following the swirls of his tattoo. "Because you know the answer."

It went quiet, Feyre's heart hammered in her chest so hard she barely could hear the faint thumping of the music inside anymore. Her focus was fully on Rhys as his gaze bore through her. She stood straight, meeting his eyes. She hadn't realized how close their faces were, it took only one of them to slightly lean forward for their lips to touch. "What do you want, Feyre?" he asked, softly.

Her hand moved to his chest, resting there for a moment. Rhys's breath hitched and Feyre's hand moved up until it rested on his neck, her thumb caressing his cheek. "You," she whispered and closed the distance. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders, deepening the kiss and he skin his tongue inside her mouth. It was electric, making Feyre feel more alive than she ever felt in her entire life. She pulled his bottom lip with her teeth, making him groan as he pushed her against the wall, his hands roaming down, stopping at her hip. She bucked her hips forward, feeling his erection against his stomach. Feyre managed to switch their positions, having Rhys against the wall, both panting. His hand slid behind Feyre's neck, keeping her close as he murmured against her lips, "You're so beautiful,"

Feyre smirked, "And?" she asked, her hands working on the buckle of his belt.

"Incredible, sexy, smart–" he trailed off when Feyre wrapped her hand about his shaft. His eyes were ablaze, watching her as she sunk down on her knees.

Her mouth watered as she took him in, "I want you to say it, Rhys, what am I?" she asked, pumping him once with her fist.

His eyes widened and his mouth opened, "Mine. You're mine." His voice was basically a growl.

Satisfied, she licked him from base to tip, eliciting a hiss from Rhysand. Nothing, no sound in the world, no music, would ever be as gratifying as the sounds she evoked from him. This was Feyre's paradise, she was sure. He fisted her ponytail when she finally took him in her mouth, releasing a small hum of approval. Heat bloomed in her stomach in such a force that Feyre had to squeeze her thighs together. Her lips wrapped around him, his grip tightening in her ponytail and she looked up, meeting his eyes. His gaze darkened with lust, Rhys bit out a strangled "Fuck," which was far up as one of Feyre's favorite sounds. Her hands rested on his muscular thighs and he pushed inside Feyre's mouth, she took him as deep as she could, pulling back and then taking him again. She let Rhys take the pace, a moan traveling up her throat.

"Fuck, Feyre," he breathed, "If you don't stop, I'll come."

Through her half-lidded gaze she looked at him, daring him to. "Say it again." he knew what she meant because his deep blue eyes flared, looking almost violet.

"You're mine," he said, "You're mine, Feyre."

Feyre ran her tongue over his crown, than fully took him in again, hollowing out her cheeks. He was big, her eyes watered but it didn't stop her. On the contrary, she felt powerful having him at her mercy like that. Nothing ever felt as right as this, having Rhys fucking her mouth, the anticipation crawling up her spine, the wetness pooling between her legs.

"Feyre–" Rhys breathed and she knew he was close. His grip loosened and she quickened her pace. His groan rumbled through the whole alley, turning hoarse as he finished inside her mouth.

Feyre swallowed, standing up on wobbly knees, leaning on the wall right beside Rhys. He pulled up his boxer, then zipped up his pants and fixed his pants. Dreamily, Feyre said, "That was…"

"Mind-blowing?" Rhys offered breathlessly.

"I wanted to say amazing but thank you!" Feyre laughed, Rhys joining her. "Can you drive?"

He nodded, his gaze darkening again as Feyre smiled, "I'll tell Mor I felt sick and went home." she said, taking his hand, pulling Rhys with her. "Your house?"

Rhys smiled brightly, "Yes." he kissed her one last time before they left the alleyway and went to his house, finishinf what they had begun.

[softforloki]

Chapter 11: The Tattoo

Chapter List

Word Count: 2,888

Summery: Selene invites Loki to her tattoo appointment, and later shows him a part of her he never imagined she'd have.

Warnings: Tattooing, mentions of pain, self-harm scars, discussion of self-harm, depression, suicidal ideation, reference to sexual encounters

. . .

Loki felt entirely out of place.

The tattoo parlor had brightly colored walls plastered in examples of the artists’ work. A pop song that Loki found he almost recognized played throughout the shop as he sat quietly, awkwardly, while Selene chatted with her tattoo artist, Zaire.

Zaire was nearly as tall as him, with dark skin and long braided hair with shocks of bright red running through. They wore a tank top with a silver They/Them pin stuck through it, showing off the work of art that was their sleeve tattoo- birds, leaves, and flowers stretching from their wrist to their shoulder.

“And I really like this one, the stars are sort of spread out across the finger so it’s not all concentrated near the knuckle, see?” They said, pointing to a sketch in a book they were pouring over with Selene.

She beamed. “I love it.” 

Loki’d been pleasantly surprised when he’d been invited to Selene’s tattoo appointment. She’d expressed the want to get tattoos on her fingers, showing him several inspiration photos she’d found on the internet. Evidently she’d already had a consultation with Zaire, who’d done her previous work, and today she had her appointment. 

Zaire grinned, drawing a little star next to the design they settled on. “Alright, honey. You get relaxed and take those rings off- I’ll be ready in a moment.”

Selene eased into the lined reclining chair, sliding her rings off her fingers. “Hold these for me?” She asked, holding them in a cupped hand to Loki.

“Of course.” He let her spill them into his hand, slipping them carefully into his coat pocket. “What’s the verdict, then?”

Selene grabbed Zaire’s book, turning it to him. “This one,” She said, pointing to a sketched finger, a small crescent moon above the first joint, and tiny stars inked above and below it. “I wanted to get a couple, but finger tattoos get pricey, and Zaire said they hurt like hell. I let them talk me down.”

“Probably wise,” Loki murmured, examining the design. He couldn’t say he knew much about tattooing, but he was inclined to trust the expert. He tapped her collarbone. “Staying on theme, then?”

She shrugged with a sheepish smile. “I guess I am.”

Loki pressed his lips to her brow. “It’ll look lovely on you, my moon and stars.”

Zaire snapped a pair of rubber gloves on before Selene could articulate a response. “Ready for tat number three?” They asked cheerfully.

“So ready.” Selene replied.

Loki frowned. “Three?” He mumbled, confused.

Selene’s brow furrowed, before realization shone. “Oh, I never showed you the one on my ankle, did I?”

“You have not.” He confirmed, eyes flickering to her covered feet. “What is it?”

“A semicolon. It was my first one.”

Loki chuckled. “Really? Why a semicolon?”

Zaire raised an eyebrow, but Selene shot them a pointed look- Be quiet.

“I’ll tell you later.” She promised, placing her right hand on a little table Zaire had placed next to the chair.

“I thought you were crazy when you showed me your ideas for the moon tat.” Zaire chuckled, setting their book near their equipment. “Going from your tiny semicolon to such a nightmare of detail work.”

“I love my moon!” Selene protested, placing a protective hand over her collarbone.

“And it looks great on you, I was just surprised by your pain tolerance. Precision work like that is usually a bitch to newbies.”

“Pain is my bitch.” Selene says haughtily, causing Loki and Zaire to burst into laughter.

“I believe that. You took ink to some of the most painful places to get it like a champ. Think you can handle fingers?” 

“I’m a big girl.”

“Do you need Loki to hold your other hand?” They asked, voice dripping with joking concern.

“I’ll do it.” Loki offered.

Selene smiled warmly, holding up her free hand. “Get over here then, handsome.”

As Loki rounded the chair to sit on Selene’s other side and take her hand, Zaire got to work, pressing a stencil and pen to her ring finger. “So, Loki.” They said, not looking up. “How long you been stuck with her?”

Selene scoffed. “If you weren’t about to permanently mark my skin, I’d fight you.”

“Please, you’re like four feet tall.”

Loki chuckles. “We’ve been together for about three months now.”

“Ah, so he’s new.” Zaire smirks at Selene. “I thought you might’ve been hiding him from me.”

“I’d never.” She gasps in fake shock.

“You failed to mention him at your consultation last week.” Zaire pointed out, finishing the stencil and pressing their tattoo gun to Selene’s skin, starting on the little moon.

“We were having a meeting, not a gossip session- Jesus you’re right, that does hurt.” She cringed, squeezing Loki’s hand. He squeezed back.

“Honey, all work with me can be turned into a gossip session.” Zaire chuckled, finishing the outline. “You alright? Need a break?”

“Nah, just give it to me. I can take it.”

“That’s what she said.”

Selene snorted, leaning her head back against the chair in exasperation. “Goddamnit.”

Loki found he liked Zaire. They were quick witted and intelligent, and surprisingly able to hold conversations with both him and Selene as they worked. They eventually rolled their swivel chair away from Selene, standing and stretching. “How’s that look? Good? Cause I can’t undo anything.”

Selene chuckled, holding up her hand to inspect it. “I love it.” She smiled, her face- paled somewhat by the process- lighting up as she swung her legs to sit sideways on the reclining chair, facing Loki. She held out her newly tattooed hand to him.

He took it gently, inspecting the precise and intricate work of the moon and stars. “It’s lovely.” He agreed, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand.

Zaire leaned over to a mini-fridge under the counter, tossing a juice box at Selene. “Drink. Take a few. I’ll see you at the register when you’re ready.”

“Thank you!” Selene called after them as they walked away, back to the front of the shop. She flexed the fingers on her right hand, cringing.

“Does it hurt?” Loki asked, concerned.

“Yeah. Worse than the others did.” She fumbled with her juice box, trying and failing to open it with one hand. Wordlessly, Loki slipped it easily from her grasp, sticking the straw into it and handing it back to her.

“My hero.” She teases, taking the drink. “Thanks.”

Loki rubbed soothing circles into the skin of her tattooed hand while she sipped from the straw. He watched with relief as color returned to her face, and he let his free hand brush hair from her eyes. “How are you doing, dove?”

“Better. I’m glad Zaire convinced me not to do more than one.”

“Do you think you’ll ever get more?”

“Maybe, not for a while though. This is all the money I can afford to throw away right now.”

A few minutes later, Selene let Loki help her up and to the register to pay Zaire. He rested his hand on her lower back while she completed the transaction with her good hand.

“Alright, crazy lady. See you in two weeks.” Zaire shook their head.

“I’m telling you, man. I’m too cool for pain.” Selene joked.

“Right.” They rolled their eyes and turned to Loki. “Make sure she gets some rest and eats something else when she gets home.”

“Will do.” He nodded, waving as they left. “You’re going to destroy your body, love.” He joked.

“Trust me, I know what having your body destroyed is like. It’s worse than this.”

Loki frowned at her cavalier tone, moving his hand to her upper back, where the worst of her scars were, pressing comfortingly. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you have a high pain tolerance.” He murmured.

“Nothing seems all that bad when you were tortured consistently for six years. Why do you think I let them make me an Avenger?” 

Loki’s mind raced, unsure if Selene meant what she seemed to be implying. “Are you….trying to hurt yourself?” He asked slowly.

She was quiet for a moment. Frighteningly quiet. Too quiet. Loki watched her flat expression. “Selene? Darling?” He prompted.

“Not anymore.” She finally replied. “I just figure I can use my tolerance for some good.”

He was quiet for a moment. “What do you mean, not anymore?”

She sighed, and pressed herself into his side. “I’ll tell you about my semicolon when we get home.”

Loki blinked in confusion before remembering the hidden tattoo she’d told him about. How did-

“It’s related, I promise.” Selene added, off his puzzled expression.

“Very well.” He murmured. 

. . .

Selene had taken the day off work so she could have the rest of Friday and the weekend to relax, so Raven was still in school when they arrived at the house.

Selene kicked back on the sofa, removing her boots and socks. Loki sat next to her, still filled with unease from their earlier conversation as she rolled up the fabric of her leggings so her ankle was exposed.

She lifted her leg, setting her foot in his lap. “Observe.” She turned her foot so the inner ankle faced up to Loki. Sure enough; a small semicolon tattoo rested just above her ankle bone. He brushed his fingers over it. “Why did you get it?” 

“Some tattoo designs are symbolic, right? They’re pretty well known for having a very specific meaning, so people with similar ones can have a sense of solidarity.” Selene explained. “This is one of them. Semicolons represent overcoming a struggle with depression, self-harm, suicidal thoughts, addiction, anxiety, or other mental health issues.”

Loki nodded slowly, carefully massaging the skin around the tattoo. “And for which of those reasons did you get it?” He asked quietly.

Selene reached down without replying, pulling the legging up more. Loki felt his mouth dry up as he began to see scars crossing her calf. As the fabric revealed more, he felt sick to realize that unlike the seeming disarray of the scars across her back, these were neat. Identical, orderly lines cut across her skin from her ankle to her knee. “Darling,” His voice broke.

“The other leg’s pretty much the same. Been like these since I was fifteen, I think. They probably would’ve healed better if I’d actually taken care of them.” Selene wouldn’t meet his gaze, instead staring very intensely at her ankle tattoo. 

“Did you do this to yourself?” Loki asked in a strangled voice.

“Yes. When I was a teenager. I was living with a foster family.” She said, tilting her head up to not look at the scars. “For a while after escaping my parents I couldn’t…. Feel anything. I had trouble eating, socializing, or generally doing anything healthy. The only way I felt like I was a person was when I hurt myself. It was the only way I could actually feel something. Foster parents figured it out eventually, and put me in some pretty intense therapy.”

His fingers hovered over her marks, glancing up hesitantly at Selene. “Can I…”

“Yeah. It’s okay.” She smiled thinly, but nodded encouragingly.

Loki gently placed a hand on her calf, slowly trailing his fingertips over her multitude of scars. They seemed better healed than the ones on her back, at least. The skin was smooth and unpuckered, but those neat little lines were still clear against her leg.

“Why didn’t I see these before?” He asked, voice on the edge of breaking.

“Every time we’ve had sex it’s been dark.” She said simply.

“Yes, but what about when we met my brother for dinner? Your dress was short. I was definitely looking at your legs.”

Selene quirked a brow. “Were you, now?”

Loki would’ve teased back if he hadn’t felt as though he was about to cry. “Yes.”

“I had really good tights.” She explained. “Thin enough that you can’t tell they’re there unless you know what to look for, but opaque enough to cover up these bad boys.” She rested a hand over Loki’s, pressing it onto her scarred leg.

Loki had to close his eyes. He often wished he could go back in time and protect Selene from the horrors of her past. He wished he could slit her parents’ throats and whisk that shaking little girl away to safety. He often wondered what her life could’ve been like if she’d had someone to protect her from her abusers, her torturers. 

But protecting her from herself was a lot different. 

He let- no. He forced himself to commit her self-inflicted scars to memory, mapping out the marred perfection of her skin. He pressed his lips to her ankle, right on her semicolon tattoo. He gently held her leg up, kissing a line up her calf to her knee.

“Loki,” Selene breathed, eyes going soft as she watched him.

“You are so brave, my love.” He murmured against her skin, trailing his mouth back down to her ankle. “So resilient. So strong. You are a warrior- a goddess- among men.”

Tears brimmed in her beautiful eyes as he pressed one, two, three more kisses to her tattoo. She reached a hand down to tangle in his hair. She lay down on the couch, gently pulling his head up to hers. He crawled over and stretched out over top of her.

It felt right, hovering over her, caging her in his arms. He felt as though he could shield her from anything like this, like no matter what happened, she’d be safe underneath him like this.

She opened her mouth, but closed it promptly before she could begin forming words.

“What is it, dove?” He murmured.

Selene closed her eyes, as if it was easier not to look at him. She shook her head.

“Please,” He begged, lowering his mouth to her clavicle, right over her crescent moon tattoo. His lips moved higher, to the sweet dip between her shoulder and neck, up to her jaw, then-

“I love you.”

Loki’s mouth froze just under her earlobe. His arms shook. He sat up so as not to lose his balance and crush her, partially straddling her waist as he gazed down at her, not quite sure he heard right. 

“I’m sorry?” He croaked out.

“I love you.” repeated, staring him in the eyes. “I love you, Loki.”

He let out a shaky breath, all thoughts drained from his mind. He couldn't think. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t find the words to say.

Loki surged forward, his mouth finding Selene’s easily. She brought her hands to his head, holding him against her as he kissed promises and confessions into her lips.

“I love you.” He breathed raggedly as he kissed her again, and again and again. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I know,” She murmured back. “I just now realized. That’s why I had to tell you.”

“What do you mean?” He asked, not taking his lips off her, just moving them to her jaw once again.

“You saw me.” She replied, as though it were as simple as that.

“I’m afraid-” kiss “my mind is terribly clouded-” kiss “-and you’re going to have to explain further-” kiss “-my love.”

“My self-harm scars are a part of me. They’re not a pretty part, but they’re still there.” She explained, taking Loki’s face in her hands to pull him back. His breath hitched as he met her intense gaze. “And you saw them. And you’re still looking at me like this.” She laughed.

“Like what?” He asked, lips twitching upwards.

“Like you’re about to throw yourself at my feet any second and worship me.” Selene shook her head in disbelief. “Like I’m the center of the universe, like I’m the answer to everything. Like you love me.”

“And that’s how you knew?”

“Figured I couldn’t keep coming up with excuses anymore. Especially not to justify that.”

“Sweet girl, lovely goddess.” He cooed, mouthing once again at her exposed skin, slipping her arms behind her back. “My moon and stars, my love, my life, my queen.”

She let out a quiet, moan-adjacent sound of content as he continued to press his love into her. “My Loki.”

“Dear heart, I’ve loved you since our first mission together.” He confessed, pulling his head from her neck.

“The HYDRA one? With the house party?” She asked in disbelief. 

“I believe I puzzled it out afterwards, when I’d managed to soothe you to sleep.” Loki purred, sitting up and pulling her with him so she was seated in his lap.

“That long?”

He chuckled, nodding. “I burn for you, Selene.”

She groaned, planting her face into his chest. “I think I figured it out when we got dinner with Raven and Thor.” She admitted.

Loki chuckled, combing his fingers gently through her hair as she tucked herself into him. “Better late than never, I suppose.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

She kissed him, pushing forward so now he laid back on the couch, with Selene draping herself over him as she kissed his lips, his neck, as she undid the first few buttons on his once neatly pressed shirt to kiss him right over his heart.

“I love you,” Selene said into his skin.

“I love you, too.” Loki replied shakily.

He was home.

[darklordofthesimp]

Omg the sleeve tattoo for sunshineyessss I love sleeve tattoos, there’s this girl on TikTok called @g.abrie7a that has full body tattoos and the sleeve one is gorgeous look:

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMFvdC1py/

Ok first of all her fucking tats are FUCKING IMMACULATE. THIS LADY MUST BE ROLLING IN THE MONEY BECAUSE HOLY SHIT I CAN ONLY IMAGINE HOW EXPENSIVE THEY WERE.

I have a full length side piece and a lil sumthn sumthn on the collar bone and was like ok so time for a sleeve. Low and behold, 20q82200q929q929202 million dollar quote I was like oh. No more tats I guess.

sorry sidetracked

So

I THINK THEY ARE LOVELY HOWEVER I REALLY see Sunshine as having a bit more of an aggressive design? Like less feminine more aggressive masc.

I'm definitely seeing the scales of justice somewhere in there.

[ritualoftheancients]

Ritual of the Ancients Chapter 13: Negotiations

by Roan Rosser

This is a chapter of a complete vampire novel with a trans-masc main character and a gay romance subplot. New Chapters are posted every Sunday. If you like the novel and want to support the author, ebook and paperback copies can be purchased here.

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The night air whistled in through the broken back window as I drove aimlessly around northern Portland, trying to think. No use visiting Kevin’s partner now; he wouldn’t know anything more than Kevin had, besides the fact that Kevin had probably called to warn him by now. Dave and Stacy were hopefully checking up on the Polly angle, which left me out of clues.

Stopped at a red light, I pounded the steering wheel in frustration. It cracked under my fists. I winced, and added it to the long-and-growing-longer list of things I owed Jack.

Maybe I should have gone with Kevin to see Lady Ann. Then I snorted at the preposterousness of that, since I now suspected she was behind the attacks on me. She’d have just killed me and taken the amulet off my corpse. And it was mine.

Thinking about my next move made me glance at the dashboard to check the tank. I winced. Less than a quarter tank left. I thought about where I could find an open gas station, when I remembered my missing wallet. Shit. With no money to fill the tank, I had to hoard what I had left.

As I drove north on MLK, I spotted a closed grocery store on my right with an empty parking lot. I pulled over and parked to give myself time to think. Where should I go with the last bit of my gas?

I didn’t want to leave the car alone with a broken window, so instead I just leaned the driver’s side seat back and relaxed, trying to think. I felt so helpless. Jack could be hurt—or, or worse. I scrubbed tears from my eyes with my sleeve. No, I refused to believe Jack was dead. Jack was resourceful, and knew how to take care of himself. Still, my mind kept circling back to worst-case scenarios.

To distract myself from thinking anymore about Jack, I pulled out the amulet and examined it again. The hieroglyphs that circled the portrait in the center were too worn down to make out without my tools back at the museum. There were two broken-off areas on either side that made me think that it had originally been part of a necklace or other piece of jewelry. There was nothing special about it at first glance, or second for that matter. If it hadn’t been for the way it had absorbed blood from my clothes, I would have said there was nothing out of the ordinary about it at all. Just another piece of jewelry looted from an Egyptian tomb.

I was still staring at it when the burner cell in my pocket began jingling with an incoming call. Only two people had this number, and I couldn’t see Dave calling me back voluntarily. I sat up and about dropped the phone in my eagerness to answer.

“Are you okay?” I gasped.

A low chuckle greeted me. “Oh, I will be soon, Everett,” a woman purred.

I froze, the phone pressed to my ear. “Who is this? Where’s Jack?”

“Now, now, not so fast, darling. Haven’t you ever heard of small talk?” The woman tisked. “But no matter. I suppose it is best to get right down to business, as they say. I am a busy woman, after all.”

My stomach sunk, and I felt sick as I realized who I was speaking to. “Lady Ann. Is Jack…”

“Jack’s fine. I propose a trade. Tit for tat, you know.”

“Let me talk to him.” I tried to keep my voice firm and even, but it still cracked at the end. I couldn’t believe I was challenging a mob boss, even over the phone. My hands shook, and I was very glad that she couldn’t see me.

“Proof of life for proof that you actually have my amulet in your possession,” she responded coldly. I imagined her examining her perfectly manicured nails as she spoke, even though in reality I had no idea if she was the kind of person who even bothered with manicures. I’d never met her before. She worked through intermediaries.

“Fine. I’ll text a photo to you at this number,” I snapped. “You do the same, then call me back.”

“Agreed, but I want a selfie with you in the picture.” She sounded almost bored. The line went dead.

I lowered the phone and groaned, putting my head in my hands. This was a terrible idea. Even with my minimal knowledge of technology, I knew she could get my location from the metadata on any photo I sent her, while I’d learn nothing in exchange. Other than the fact that Jack was alive, a little voice said inside me. That wasn’t nothing.

I held the amulet up next to my face and snapped a quick selfie, but I hesitated with my finger over the send button. No. I’d wait for her to send proof that Jack lived first. I sat staring at the phone, waiting impatiently.

After ten minutes and no response, I sent Jack’s phone a text message.

“Proof of life first, then I’ll send mine.”

This cheap phone didn’t let you know when the other party was typing, but after a moment it did check the message to show it had been read. So she’d seen it.

While I waited for a response, I got out of the car and walked around the mostly empty parking lot, trying to use up some of my restless energy. I wandered up to the dark storefront. I was walking back and forth along the front, staring at my phone, when a car came screeching around the corner onto MLK and opened fire on the parking lot.

The first bullets hit Jack’s car in a spray of broken glass. I froze at first, staring in shock at the man hanging out the window of the SUV holding a machine gun. The hail of bullets cracking across the concrete towards me snapped me out of my stupor. I turned and ran for the side of the building, fumbling at my jacket pocket for the gun I’d taken from Kevin.

As I ran my phone began ringing, the default ring tone cheerfully pinging in between the pops of gunfire. Without thinking about it, I pressed answer and lifted the phone to my ear. The bullets were getting closer; I could hear them cracking into the pavement at my heels, so I used vampire speed.

“Hello?” I said into the phone. Air whistled by as I ran. “Sorry, I’m a little busy right now.” I struggled to get the gun out of my pocket as I ran, ripping my pocket in the process. As I fumbled with the strap of the holster, I accidentally dropped the gun. At the speed I was going it hit hard, bounced, and skittered away along the asphalt. I left it and kept running. Not like I knew how to use it anyway.

“Is,” the person on the phone said, each letter drawn out. It was like the person on the other end was talking in slow motion. I didn’t recognize the voice over the roaring of the air and the gunfire, but it was a guy. In my haste, I hadn’t looked at the caller ID before answering. I needed to start thinking more about what I was doing.

“That.”

I ran past the end of the building towards the loading docks. I made a sharp turn to run along the back of the building, my tennis shoes sliding several feet before finding purchase. The gunfire was fading behind me, and I could hear the speaker more clearly now. I was starting to get thirsty, so I concentrated on slowing down again.

“Gunfire?” the person finally finished his sentence by the time I was a block away, the last word speeding up to normal speech by the last syllable.

“Yeah, but it’s fine now. Who is this?” I said, jogging down a back alley. The shooters had to have known they’d missed, and would most likely be driving around, looking for me.

“Everett?” Jack’s concerned voice came over the line. I recognized his voice now that it was quiet. Tears of relief rolled down my cheeks. “Someone’s shooting at you? Are you hurt?”

I wiped my face dry, glad Jack couldn’t see me. “No, I’m fine, but I don’t know for how long. I’m hiding, but I don’t know where to go,” I whispered. The light was gone, but I could hear a car’s engine circling the block. It could have been normal night traffic, or it could have been the shooters.

“Shit. Tell me what happened.” Jack sounded sincere, but… Could he be working with the people trying to kill me? I didn’t want to consider the possibility, but I had to.

“Jack, how’d Lady Ann get your phone?” I asked quietly, ducking my head around the edge of the doorway to check that it was clear.

“She took it off me when I was captured by her thugs. What happened? Did she text you pretending to be me?” Jack sounded worried.

It was clear, so I sprinted out of the doorway and down the alley to the corner. Which way to go? I was back on MLK; I recognized the center planting area that separated the north and southbound lanes. “No, she called me from your phone, trying to negotiate a trade for you. What happened last night? When you didn’t make it back I was so worried.”

“Shit.” Jack said a few more choice swear words. “She was lying. I escaped from her thugs over an hour ago. She must have panicked, and tried to get you to give her whatever it was she wanted from you before you found out I escaped. Let’s get you to safety, then I’ll tell you the whole story. Are you on foot? I don’t hear a car.”

“Yeah, on foot.” There was sparse traffic going by in both directions. I didn’t see a black SUV like the one the shooters had been driving. I tried to think. For now I wanted—no, needed to trust that Jack was being truthful.

“Is there a car or any way for you to get away quickly?”

“Your car is parked nearby; I think it still might be drivable.” The bullets had looked like they all hit the sides and trunk, but it had been hard to tell from where I’d been. I headed back towards Jack’s car since I didn’t have any better ideas.

“Might still be drivable?” Jack repeated in disbelief, followed by a deep sigh. “Not important right now. Focus on getting out of there safely.”

The bad news was that Jack’s car was riddled with bullet holes, all the windows were broken, and the windshield was cracked. The good news was that now I wouldn’t have to confess about accidentally shooting out the window when I’d fed on Kevin.

I propped the phone against my shoulder to free my hands, pried the door open, and stuck the key in the ignition. The car turned over and to my surprise, actually started. “It still works. Where should I go?”

There was a muffled conversation in the background, and then Jack came back on the line. “Meet us at the 7-11 at the south end of St. John’s. And throw your phone away before you leave. Dave says that she probably found you by tracking it.

“Who’s us?” I asked suspiciously, trying to keep it from my voice. I wanted to trust Jack, but it was hard.

“Stacy’s driving. She’s going to take us somewhere safe. Now go, before they come back.”

“Got it.” I hung up the phone and threw it out the window before putting the car into drive and roaring away. Wind stung my eyes through the huge crack in the broken front windshield, but I squinted and dealt with it.