#piercer of darkness

[sallufix]

INTRUDER

Aftermath of that little animation... They were some of my first fanarts for the game and now I'm back in the fucking building again/ref ... I MISS THEM SO MUCH... Maybe this'll start a roommates saga and the voices will stop

[itsraining-honey]

“Darkness fears my arrows! In the name of the Forest… My mission is to banish the Darkness…!” -Wind Archer Cookie

[fortunaestalta]

[reverieaudios]

Hi hi~! ૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა I really like your channel nd I hope you're having a very lovely day! Now for my question! This might be a little random and out there but do you have piercings? You look like you'd have piercings ~(ˊ•͈ ◡ •͈ˋ)~ (/pos)

Yes I do lol, apparently I exude the alternative aesthetic or something. Lmao but yeah I've got 8 right now. In any of my audios if I ever bring like a glass or something to my mouth you can probably hear a clink lol. It takes so many tries to avoid that it drives me crazy

And thank you, I hope you have a great day too!

[twogriffons]

i got my nose piercing cleaned today and i feel like a new person

[detective-piplup]

HELP I THOUGHT THIS WAS A FANMADE VIDEO BUT THEN I SAW THE FCHANNEL>?

lmao YEAH I’VE BEEN LISTENING THAT JUST RN ACTUALLY. it’s literally just all of his voice lines. im so serious. smilk has been chatting into my ear with no other voice being there for like about an hour now

[amaranthinespirit]

you go to get your clit pierced and simon riley's your piercer

when you first came into his shop, his ears perked up at the sound of the little bell above the door that signaled a new person had entered. when he glanced up from his current client, he wasn't sure what to expect.

maybe he was thinking a returning customer, or a person already adorned with piercings and tattoos ready to add onto their body mods, or someone who fit into the dark, low-light theme of the parlor.

but you. you were the opposite of what he was picturing.

he thought his eyes were deceiving him when he shot a quick glance to where you stood, door barely closed behind you. he had to do a double take because you just looked so out of place with your frilly white shorts and big doe eyes.

his eyes had skillfully scanned your appearance—your skin clear and void of any visible tattoos, no obvious piercings visible to his keen eyes. you even lacked piercings on your ears as he eyed the way you tucked your mousy hair behind them.

he studied you—the way you seemed to be nervous, anxious. by the way you looked, he assumed you wanted a basic piercing. something on the ears, maybe a nose piercing, or as far as a belly button piercing.

luckily for you, he had just finished up on the current client in his chair when you had arrived, just about finished with cleaning them up before charging them and sending them on their way.

you watched the way he approached the counter, peeling the latex from his massive hands as he slipped behind it. he tossed the gloves into the bin under the desk before his arms crossed against his chest—he didn't mean to be intimidating, it was just second-nature at this point.

it didn't help you were exactly eye level with his tatted forearms, the way his tight, black shirt stretched around his beefy biceps, clung to his chest and abdomen. his head tilted at you, narrowing his eyes in a watchful, curious gaze. he watched you rock on the balls of your feet under his eyes.

"what can'i do f' ya today, lov?" his voice was deep and gruff, a slight rasp in the way he spoke. in every way, he matched his environment.

when you muttered quietly about how you hoped he had time to do a piercing for you, a smug smile rose on his lips.

truthfully, no. he didn't have time for anyone else, but for you, he would. so he simply nodded, dropping his arms down to his sides, "'course, 've got some time. what'cha lookin' to get done?"

he was waiting for something along the lines of 'an ear piercing,' or 'a nose piercing please.' so when you shyly looked up at him with those big eyes of yours, telling him how you were looking to get a clit piercing, his eyes betrayed a look of surprise and shock.

he raised a brow, clearing his throat, "is that right?"

he watched your small nod and he hummed, nodding back to you as he thought it over in his head. his heart thumped in his chest, certainly not expecting a pretty thing like you to be asking him for such a piercing.

but who was he to say no?

so he nodded his head to follow him before he guided you to a room in the back for some privacy. he gestured for you to get situated on the little table in the small room while he grabbed a sterile needle and new gloves.

but you were nervous, so you stood awkwardly beside it as you watched him, his back turned to you as he finished the prep.

when he turned around, seeing your nervous stature, his gaze softened and posture relaxed as he waved you over with his fingers, guiding you to sit at the edge of the table as his gloved hands came to rest on your hips.

he pushed you onto your back with a gentle hand on your stomach, muttering to relax as he tugged down your little shorts around your plush thighs.

he hummed appreciatively at the damp spot on your panties, feeling his cock chub up at the sight, twitching in his grey sweatpants that already showed too much.

he leaned closer, glancing to the needle on his little table beside him before looking back between your legs. carefully his gloved fingers peeled aside your little lace panties, exhaling shakily at the slick that stuck to the fabric.

he carefully thumbed over the sensitive flesh, hearing the small gasps from your lips and the way your breath hitched at the contact, the way your hips unintentionally rolled closer to his hand.

he hummed again, nodding as he examined, "got some perfect anatomy for it, sweet'eart," he told you, glancing up at your face before pinching the sensitive bud, reaching over with his other hand to grab what you thought was his needle, "gonna look all nice and pretty when 'm done with ya."

you let out a strained noise in response, the sound shaky in your throat as you prepared for the needle to pierce your sensitive clit. you flinched at the feeling of something cool rubbing your glistening pussy, a huffed chuckle escaping his lips. the deep sound did nothing to sooth your nerves.

"relax, lovie," he cooed, tossing the little sanitizing cloth back on the table, "i'll give ya a countdown if yer feelin' nervous 'bout it, 'kay?"

he felt you relax under his hand as he reached for the needle. his fingers were steady as he hovered over your cunt, watching the goosebumps on your thighs at the feeling of his warmth breath against your skin and wet pussy.

a smirk etched on his face as he mumbled a countdown before plunging the needle into your sensitive flesh, expertly piercing it as he felt your body shudder under his hands. the involuntary moan that slipped past your lips was better music to his ears than the band that blasted over the speakers, and it didn't take an expert to know the piercing had given you an orgasm—that he had made you come so easily.

he shushed you, now adding the little jewelry as his thumb caressed your inner thigh, that trembled under his palm, to distract you as he grabbed another little sanitization cloth to clean up any blood spilt.

he let you sit like that, panties pulled to the side in consideration of the new sensitivity to your poor clit—though you weren't sure the cold air that blew against your sopping cunt would've been better or worse than having put your panties back on properly. he stood up and peeled the gloves from his hands.

he watched the way your chest heaved up and down, a smug smile still etched his features as he cleaned up the station, a hand on your hip as he caressed your skin softly. soon after, he pulled his hand away and disappeared out of the room, temporarily leaving you alone.

a frown made its way to your face as he left—how rude of him to leave you after he just made you orgasm from a piercing!

but that thought was quickly changed when he reemerged with a cold bottle of water in hand and little package of sweets—he wouldn't tell you that they were originally his so you wouldn't feel bad.

he set them by your head, his hand trailing across your hip before resting on your plush tummy—occasionally slipping further up under your shirt—as he kneaded the fat under his palms, muttering praises to you as you calmed down.

once you did, you slowly sat up and fixed up your panties and shorts, hissing at the sensitive feeling of the fabric rubbing against your flesh, causing his eyes to crease with a smile.

simon picked up the bottle of water again and opened it with ease, holding it out to you to take, which you did. you muttered a small 'thanks' and he just hummed in response as you gulped down nearly the whole bottle.

while you sat, recovered, and ate his sweets, he went over the aftercare for your piercing—he even offered to check up on it himself! how sweet of him, really!

but of course he was sweet with you, considering how much of a doll you were to pierce! and no way would he let you pay, as long as you let him take you out to dinner tonight?

[reignpage]

S M A U M A S T E R L I S T

Pt 2 Key: ★ smut ⚳ Angst ✿ Fluff

Unlinked smaus have been archived

Multi-character ❥ Don't be mad at me ✿ ❥ You jealous? ⚳ ❥ You jealous? Pt 2 ❥ Would you let me die? ✿ ❥ You cheated ⚳ ❥ You cheated Pt 2 ❥ That's not my name ✿ ❥ Raincheck? ✿ ❥ Drop 'em out ★ ❥ Reigniting crushes ✿ ❥ They cheat on you ⚳ ❥ You brought home a what? ✿ ❥ Halloween plans ✿ ❥ Warding off unwanted attention ✿ ❥ Oops, wrong person ★ ❥ Missing them ;) ★ ❥ Clingy? ⚳ ❥ Clingy? Pt 2 ❥ Clingy? Pt 3 ❥ Clingy? Pt 4 ❥ Clingy? Pt 5 ❥ Cake? ★ ❥ Please reply ⚳ ❥ You died ⚳ ❥ You're injured ✿ ❥ Birthday girl ⚳ ❥ Birthday girl pt 2 ❥ Birthday girl pt 3 ❥ You're toxic ⚳ ❥ Prom night ✿ ❥ A new friend ⚳ ❥ A new friend pt 2 ❥ A new friend pt 3 ❥ A new friend pt 4 ❥ A new friend pt 5 ❥ A new friend pt 6 ❥ Do you like it? ★ ❥ His number? ✿ ❥ A date with him? ⚳ ❥ A date with her? ⚳ ❥ A date with her? pt 2 ❥ A date with her? pt 3 ❥ I meant hungry ★ ❥ Tell your friends about me ⚳ ❥ Tell your friends about me pt 2 ❥ Tell your friends about me pt 3 ❥ Tell your friends about me pt 4 ❥ What position you got her in? ✿ ❥ Girl BFF...R ⚳ ❥ Girl BFF...R Pt 2 ❥ Girl BFF...R Pt 3 ❥ Girl BFF...R Pt 4 ❥ Flowers for me? ✿ ❥ Break up with your gf ⚳ ❥ Let's just be ⚳ ❥ F.R.I.E.N.D.S ⚳ ❥ Colour me surprised ★ ❥ Pick one ★ ❥ This okay? ★ ❥ Volume up ★ ❥ First impressions ✿ ❥ They're no orpheus ✿ ❥ Respectfully, pass ⚳ ❥ What about that bitch? ⚳ ❥ What about that bitch? Pt 2 ❥ Not again ★ ❥ What about me? ⚳ ❥ What about me? pt 2 ❥ Good thing you're pretty ✿ ❥ Crawling back to you ⚳ ❥ Why didn't you tell me? ⚳ ❥ Read the warnings ★ ❥ Great minds ⚳ ❥ Friendly advice ✿ ❥ She's too good for me ⚳ ❥ Wish you were sober ⚳ ❥ Put that thing away ★ ❥ Talk dirty to me ★ ❥ Cool...anyways ★ ❥ Met a girl crazy for me ✿ ❥ When you're gone ✿ ❥ Don't come over ✿ ❥ I have and what? ★ ❥ Forever hold your peace ⚳ ❥ Olfactory stimulation ✿

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

Frat boy!Gojo

❥ Asahi super dry: after all this time ★ ✿

Piercer!Geto

❥ BSA Gold Star: mysterious as the dark side of the moon ★ ✿

College student!Sukuna

❥ 00:00am: he's crazy but he's mine ★ ✿

[rememberwren]

Tattoo artist!simon giving fem!reader your first tattoo.

He was highly recommended, though the wait list to even get a consultation with him was weeks out.

Physically he is intimidating: tall and broad and fit. The facemask isn’t terribly out of place, not in a post-Covid society. You find yourself giving too much eye contact, staring at what you can see of him: his eyes. Dark, with long lashes. Surprisingly expressive brows.

The shop is clean and well lit. He takes customers by appointment only, so it’s just the two of you.

You stammer over your words as you try to describe your vision for the tattoo, but he listens patiently: still and attentive, trying to see your same vision.

He exchanges private numbers with you (enters his name in your phone as GHOST) and within the week he’s sending three separate mock up images, each better than the last.

It isn’t until he reminds you to wear something appropriate that you fully acknowledge the gravity of just where you plan to let this man tattoo you—but you’ve already put down a deposit and it’s too late to back out now.

You wear pasties, applied with shaking hands in his tiny, clean bathroom. No bra, you suck in a deep breath and push down the straps of your spaghetti strap shirt and give him access to your sternum.

He’s a total professional. It’s in your mind only that his gloved-hands linger on you. It’s wishful thinking that his thumb soothingly strokes the space above your heart when you flinch in pain.

The praise is harder to ignore. He mutters it so distractedly that you have no doubt it is just instinct: “Good…that’s it…breathe through it…doing well…you’re taking it so well…”

He has to stop twice because you can’t seem to sit still, your panties soaked and cunt throbbing. His dark eyes glitter knowingly, mouth quirking beneath his facemask.

It’s almost a relief when he’s done, when you haven’t terminally embarrassed yourself. When you’re one step closer to getting home and rubbing one out with his spooky moniker on your tongue.

“You sat well,” he says. He hesitates. “I’d give you a discount. If you ever wanted to come back.”

But then the charged moment is ruined by his shop co-owner, piercer “Soap” appearing in the doorway, flashing his tongue ring at you and letting you know nipple piercings are buy one get one free.

[pinkygirliee]

FIC RECS

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

hey so it took a while for me to post another fic recommendations but I’m back!!

ABBY ANDERSON

my wait is you by @dollaches

abby x fem reader

content: pillow princess reader!, closeted abby, face sitting, porn with plot (my favorite), kinda eager abby. It was so good, honestly I haven’t enjoyed a fic this much in months.

not just anyone’s by @aouiaa

content: mean! abby, fingering (reader! receiving), oral (reader receiving), jealous abby, angst, doctor abby (love this trope), kinda dark content. 10/10 I read it every once in a while.

good luck babe! by @studioghibelli

content: reader’s boyfriend cheats on her with abby (abby didn’t know and was in the closet back then but now she’s a lesbian), cheating (but it’s on a man so it doesn’t count lol), strap on.

bad communication with rich! abby by @beforeimdeceased

content: angst, miscommunication (obviously lol), fake dating, femme! reader, it’s a concept but it’s so good I loved it, wish the writer made it a series.

abby so needy to fuck you by @k1ngpin42

content: THIS FIC made me realize that I have a thing for dominant women being needy lmao, needy abby (obviously), pillow princess! reader.

passionate sex with abby by @mystellenia

content: this is smut but honestly it’s so sweet and wholesome lmao I’m obsessed, pillow princess reader!

ELLIE WILLIAMS

baby no attachment by @anchoeritic

content: angst, friends with benefits, fuckgirl! ellie, pillow princess! reader.

welcome to the party by @lovelettersfromluna

content: toxic! ellie, kinda dark content, top! ellie, bottom! reader, it has two parts, ANGST, brother’s best friend! ellie, enemies to lovers (but it’s just ellie hating the reader lol), jealous! ellie, dry humping, fingering and oral (reader receiving).

selfish by @lonelyfooryouonly

content: ellie doesn’t like you but after she makes you a favor you both get closer, dealer! ellie, mean! ellie, you’re friends with ellie’s friends, this is a series and is so good, smut, top! ellie, bottom! reader, angst.

candy crush by @s-4pphics

content: grumpy x sunshine, mean! ellie, angst, reader is a baker.

romance is dead by @diddiqueen

content: PLEASE read this series, it’s so good. angst, mean! ellie, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage (reader is forced to be engaged to ellie’s brother).

like I want you by @loaksky

content: one sided pining, not actually unrequited love, reader is in love with ellie and ellie is oblivious, friends to lovers, angst.

the infinite space between you and I by @loaksky

content: mean! ellie, grumpy x sunshine, not actually unrequited love, angst.

unwanted attention by @les4elliewilliams

content: enemies to lovers, angst, coworkers, ellie doesn’t know she’s in love with reader so she’s mean lol.

already over by @elliesbelle

content: trying to get over ex! ellie but ending up being fucked by her, pillow princess! reader, angst.

ellie shows you who you belong to by @bonewreath

content: jealous! ellie, roommates to lovers, femme! reader, friends with benefits, pillow princess! reader, smut, reader tries to go on a date and ellie gets possessive lol.

campus escapades by @leiswxrld

content: strangers to lovers, top ellie, bottom reader, college au, piercer! ellie (as a dyslexic girlie who’s english is not her first language, you have no idea how hard it was for me to learn how to write the word piercer lol)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

you have no idea how much I exposed myself with this recommendations lmao, it’s so obvious I don’t do anything other than read fanfiction omg now im embarrassed.

follow me for more fic recs

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

[sallufix]

HAUNTED BREEZE AU

So much people on twitter loved my stuff about them so I will profit by expanding on the idea of their dynamic 🔥🔥 Most of my Shadow Milk and Wind Archer art will be tagged under the Haunted Breeze AU tag now for easier searching

[violetwifey]

Stay still, Pretty ༉‧₊˚.

🥡 ; Vi being a shameless flirt, piercer/tattoo artist!vi, pathetic simp!reader, lots and lots of pet names (vi uses them)

🥡 enjoy darlings ! 🫶🏽

Midnight Blues.

The name was written in elegant cursive across the front of the studio—a place for all kinds of body art. You weren’t the type to care much for piercings or tattoos. The only body modification you had were the standard lobe piercings, one on each ear.

But lately—though you can’t quite figure out why—you’ve been feeling a little bolder. A little more experimental.

So here you are.

The bells jingled as you pushed open the door.

The inside of Midnight Blues wasn’t what you expected. Dark walls, sleek black leather couches, and glass cases displaying an array of piercing jewelry gleamed under dim, moody lighting. The faint hum of a tattoo machine buzzed from somewhere in the back, blending with the slow strum of a guitar riff playing through the speakers. A hint of incense lingered in the air.

You inhaled deeply. Strangely, you felt calmer.

Not even two steps in, your eyes landed on her.

A woman.

A tight, white tank top hugged her frame, paired with forest green cargo pants that sat low on her hips. She was all muscle and ink, tattoos running down both her very toned arms. Her pink hair—faded in some places, freshly dyed in others—fell in messy layers over her sharp features. She was counting cash behind the counter, fingers working skillfully, but her eyes… those sharp, calculating, all-knowing eyes… were on you. Running up and down your frame like she had all the time in the world.

This was, without a doubt, the most gorgeous woman you had ever seen.

The left corner of her scarred lip tugged upward. A single, pierced brow lifted.

“Lost, sweetheart? Or just liking what you see?”

Busted.

You snapped out of it, clearing your throat and shifting your weight nervously. “No… no… I’m at the right place.” A nervous laugh tumbled from your lips.

“Yeah?” she drawled, sliding the cash into the register before closing it with a loud click. Then she moved. Three long strides, and she was standing in front of you.

Close.

Close enough for you to catch her scent—musky with a faint hint of citrus. Close enough that you noticed the freckles dotting her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

She smelled good. She looked good. Way too good.

“And what can I do for you?” Her voice was low, teasing.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to focus. “A helix piercing.” Your voice was even. Cool. Collected. Or at least, that’s what you hoped it sounded like.

Her smirk deepened. “Alright, sweetheart. Follow me.”

She turned, walking into the shop. You followed. And fuck, you shouldn’t have.

Because now your eyes were glued to her back. The tattoos that ran down her shoulder blades. The way the muscles in her arms flexed when she moved. The way her cargo pants hugged her ass so perfectly.

She stopped abruptly, pulling open the black curtain to her station. “After you.”

You stepped inside. The space was small but personal. A sleek black leather chair sat in the center, with a rolling tray of sterilized equipment beside it. To the right, artwork decorated the walls—her designs, you assumed. And just above the chair, glowing softly against the exposed brick wall, was a neon light in the shape of a pair of lips.

It was just like her—simple yet bold. Edgy yet soft.

“Take a seat, love.”

Butterflies? Fuck that. A whole tsunami was happening inside your stomach.

You perched at the edge of the chair, hands clasped in your lap.

A chuckle. Low and knowing. “First time?”

You nodded, suddenly feeling very, very small under her gaze.

“I’ll take good care of you, pretty girl.”

Pretty girl.

Does she flirt like this with everyone?

The thought makes your blood boil, and you hate yourself for it. You just met this woman five minutes ago. Get a grip.

She stood in front of you again, snapping on her gloves. Then—

Two gentle taps on your inner thigh.

“Open up.”

Your brain short-circuited.

What. The. Fuck.

Your legs parted slowly, breath quickening as she stepped between them, her fingers tilting your chin to the side. She marked the spot on your ear, murmuring something about placement, but you barely processed it.

“Don’t look so scared, sweetheart.” She laughed, voice dripping with amusement. “It’ll be over in ten seconds, promise.”

You barely had time to brace yourself.

“Deep breath for me.”

You inhaled, eyes squeezing shut. “Okay,” you whispered.

And then—

Click.

The needle went through. You flinched, hands shooting forward on instinct—gripping onto the front of her tank top.

She stilled.

You felt the solid warmth of her beneath your fingers. The ridges of her abs, the heat of her skin through the thin fabric.

Your brain short-circuited. Again.

She glanced down at your hand, then back up at you, amusement flickering in her eyes.

“Easy there, sugar. Got a bit of a grip, don’t you?”

You whimpered.

Actually whimpered.

Embarrassment flooded your body as you quickly pulled back, stammering out an apology.

But she just chuckled, shaking her head. “No need to apologize. You’re fine.” Her hand brushed over your head, smoothing your hair like you were some kind of pet. “There we go. All done.”

She grabbed a mirror, holding it up so you could see.

Your breath caught.

The violet helix piercing shimmered under the light, sitting perfectly against your skin.

“Wow…” You whispered, tilting your head slightly to admire it. “It looks amazing.”

She leaned in behind you, peering over your shoulder. “It does, doesn’t it?” Her voice was lower now, close enough that her breath tickled your neck. “You look great, doll.”

Heat rushed to your face. You barely managed a “Thank you.”

She chuckled, tapping your chin lightly. “You did good. Such a brave girl.”

Your stomach flipped.

You scrambled to pay at the counter, your hands slightly shaking as you fished out the cash. While she was distracted at the register, you spotted a small container filled with business cards.

You snatched one, stuffing it into your bag before she could notice.

As you turned to leave, she leaned lazily against the counter, watching you with a smirk. “See you around, pretty.”

And fuck, did she wink?

You nearly tripped over yourself escaping the studio.

Once you were a safe distance away, you yanked the card out of your bag, running your thumb over the bold letters of her name.

“Violet…”

Your heart was still racing.

And suddenly, getting a tattoo didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

dividers by @anitalenia ♡

[itsraining-honey]

not the biggest wind archer fan but this title screen for him is beautiful

[cod-indulgences]

König x female!reader, oral, female genital piercings, sweet

You honestly forgot it was there. You'd not had even a coffee date in ages, much less a hulking Austrian shouldering between your thighs, so when König gets your panties off and halts, staring down at your pussy, your first thought was your period had started, or he'd decided yours was too ugly for sex or-

Then he delicately rubbed the tip of his finger across the little silver hoop pierced just below your clit, and you shiver. "Oh, uh, be gentle with that?" You babble, "sorry, I got it ages ago and sort of forgot about it? I don't feel it normally, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you-"

You cut off with a squeak as König leans in and kisses your clit, his tongue darting out to lick at the piercing, and when he looks up at you his eyes are as dark as his sniper hood. "Schön...Don't worry, liebchen," he says, "I'll be careful with your jewelry."

Oh, he is, he's soft and gentle with his lips, sucking your clit and labia, swipes of his tongue around and in your hole, and teasing that little hoop back and forth through your flesh. It had been an impulse buy, one that gave you a few days of soreness and not much else. The one guy you'd slept with after getting it had tried to pull it with his teeth and you'd kicked him in the face.

König though, oh, he's so sweetly considerate, wet little kisses and sucks around your clit, licking your piercing with the careful point of his tongue, bumping your clit with his nose while he drinks up your slick, and when he slides a finger into you and curls it up you grab his hair and yank hard. He groans into your pussy and sucks on your clit again, a second finger joining the first, and he's a bit fiercer now, slurping at you messily, and when he slips down and sucks around your piercing you shout and feel a sharp little clench around his fingers, hear a sloppier sound when he keeps pumping them into you. He's shaking, you realize dimly, still hauling on his hair to keep his mouth right there, there, so good don't stop, König, König fuck I'm cumming, please-

Your whole pussy is throbbing under his mouth, hot and wet, two bright points of sensation in your clit and piercing when he opens his jaw and gets his mouth around both, sucking hard, and you come in a sobbing rush, slick dripping out of your hole, clenching so hard onto his fingers that it hurts.

You manage to release his hair and look down over your heaving breasts and belly to see him staring up at you, beard dark with your come, and when he shoves himself up and gets his cock inside you with a desperate groan you wonder how soon you can get another appointment set up with the piercer. König might like a vertical hood one too.

[venomvalley]

I WANNA PUT YOU IN MY MOUTH

sevika x fem!reader | 2.6k words

SUMMARY: How Sevika got her lip piercing.

TAGS: 18+ only! biting, fingering, porn with feelings (sorry), very slight humiliation kink. assholes in love. brief mentions of needles and blood.

NOTES: i cried over her today. btw

-> READ ON AO3 | ARCANE MASTERLIST

Sevika has never been known for her stillness or her patience outside of a fight. Always on the move, restless when nothing occupies her thoughts, fidgeting with cards or her prosthetic or teething on a cigarillo.

Which is why you almost laugh in her face when she asks—orders—you to give her a shiny piercing. Pounded on your door twenty minutes ago like she worked for the Enforcers and scared the piss out of you as you sat on the couch. And then she shouldered you out of the way like she lives here, like she hasn’t been effectively missing for the last month.

Her hair is different, prosthetic missing (left at home, most likely). A bit thinner than the last time you saw her, more sunken around the eyes, but still your Sevika.

Yours. Yeah, right.

“I want one of these,” she says, pointing to the curve between her lower lip and chin. “The kind your cousin has.”

Admittedly, it would look good on her. She definitely has the mouth for one. Curved, full lips. A nice chin.

Gods, you’re smitten. It’s disgusting.

Still. There’s the problem you mentioned before. Thing is, she could go to a piercer who knows what the hell they’re doing. Somebody who doesn’t stab themselves with a needle sterilized over a cigarette lighter, armed with a kitchen table and a hand mirror and a pen that tends to smudge.

But no, she wants you to do it. Doesn’t trust anybody else.

She grins at you from her seat on the broken-down couch, legs spread wide, arm thrown over the back cushion. “At least you got something to lose if you fuck up.”

She isn’t wrong. Her mouth is better designed for eating pussy than it is talking, and you benefit from the former quite often. Would be a shame if you sewed her mouth shut.

The idea is tempting.

With a resigned sigh, you wave her over to the kitchen table, pulling out a chair as you pass by to collect your container of supplies. “Fine, but don’t bitch at me if it comes out crooked.”

You spread out a clean towel on the tabletop and pick up a needle, gauze, and some antiseptic (finally, no more lighter). Then the hemostat clamps you had to beg on hands and knees for your cousin to give you.

From the corner of your eye, she removes her cape, throwing it over the back of the chair. “How long will this take? I have places to be.”

“Depends on how well you behave.”

She shoots you a venomous glare as she plops down in the chair, but you pointedly ignore it. Too busy wiping down your tools.

“Ever done this one before?” she asks, hand braced against the lip of the table, eyeing the trail of your fingers over the needle.

You pause, almost awestruck at her audacity. “You ask me that now?”

She shrugs, and you turn back to your supplies, steam no doubt erupting from your ears. Nothing but a pain in your ass. A beautiful, strong, skilled, talented-between-the-sheets pain, but a pain nonetheless.

The chair she sits in creaks, and a moment later, a large palm cups the swell of your ass. Her fingers shift to squeeze the fat on the inside of your thigh, tugging you closer to coax you into her lap. The press of lips against the side of your throat, the slight brush of her teeth, relaxes you against her chest.

Missed you.

She’d rather die than say it, but she doesn’t have to. You know that this is the closest you’ll get to her affection. Vulnerability.

“You’re an asshole.” Over your shoulder, you catch her gaze. Stormy grey, lowered lids, dark circles that you want to rub away. Soft eyes, a borderline reverence. “But you’re my asshole.”

She proceeds to roll them (all bark and no bite). “Don’t get all sappy now. You still gotta stab me with a needle.”

“Oh, I’ll enjoy every second of it. Trust me.” You rise to your feet then soak a square of gauze in antiseptic. “This’ll be cold.”

At the first pass over her skin, she jerks away from you, wiping her mouth, and you huff out a frustrated sigh. “Can you sit still?”

“That tastes like shit.”

“Yeah, it’s antiseptic. Of course it does.”

“I'm not supposed to taste it.”

“Then keep your tongue in your mouth.”

Said mouth twists into a frown as you wipe damp gauze over the curve of her chin and the jut of her lower lip, gaze shadowed by the furrow of her brow.

The actual piercing takes all of five seconds. A quick sting that squeezes her eyes shut before you insert the jewelry. She bleeds a bit after the fact, a spot of red that spills down her chin before you wipe it up (it takes everything in you not to use your tongue—again, you’re smitten in the most disgusting way possible. need to have her any way you can).

You lean back, tilt her chin up to get a good look at the metal glinting just beneath her lower lip. “Not too bad, right?”

She looks so fucking good that it almost makes you angry. Makes you feel a lot of things, some of which aren’t exactly appropriate for the circumstances.

“How’s it look?” she asks, hand rising to touch it, and you grab the thick of her wrist.

“Don’t you dare. It’ll get infected.”

She pulls away from you with a scoff. “Answer the question.”

As if blessed by the gods, you conjure up the most brilliant, most evil idea. An idea borne from a need to watch her squirm for once.

You lean in close, tilting your head from side to side, before your eyes widen in abject horror. “Oh shit, it’s off-center.”

She gives you a wary stare, squinting to parse out the validity of your panic. “That’s not funny.”

“Fuck, I knew I should’ve marked it.”

“Just give me a damn mirror.”

She shoves away from the table with a skid of chair legs and disappears into your bathroom. You trail behind her, fighting back a smile once you see her bent over the sink, inspecting your work.

After a long moment of silence, she rights herself and meets your eyes in the glass. “You’re a dick.”

“That’s payback for disappearing for a month.”

Your mouth clamps shut with a click of your teeth.

Shit. You didn’t mean to say that.

The two of you have played a fun game of love and hate thus far, but you can’t afford the label of clingy. She told you at the beginning of… whatever this is that she doesn’t do romance, and she doesn’t get serious. But you worry for her every day that she’s gone, every time she leaves for such long stretches. Like a big piece of you has been stolen and the empty chasm will forever remain unfilled.

It’s hard not to love someone once their presence becomes routine.

The air in the room thickens, stagnates upon the direct shift in conversation.

She plants her hand on the sink, head drooping to her chest. Voice quiet, resigned when she asks, “What do you want me to do?”

You're no stranger to the nature of her work. The secrecy she has to keep. The stress she's under. Keeping the Undercity in one piece is an almost impossible task, and yet she somehow always manages. It's awe-inspiring.

And you really don't want to add onto the pile of shit she has to wade through. A recipe for a quick cut off, so you wonder if you should answer honestly, if she wants you to. Maybe you should tell her what she wants to hear so she keeps coming back.

A moment of heavy silence passes as you work your jaw in rumination.

“Nothing. Sorry.” In two steps, you stand behind her. Your forehead thumps between her shoulder blades, hands resting on the curve of her waist, and she smells of tobacco and pine musk (bathed before she stopped by, how romantic) and the aftertaste of copper that settles bitter in the back of your throat. Like death seeps from her pores. “Can’t help but worry, ya know.”

She’s silent for a too-long moment, and just when you think you’ve fucked everything up, she grabs your hand.

“Yeah. I know.” When she turns around, pretty eyes stamped to tenderness, your heart bloats so much your lungs threaten to deflate. “I’m fine.”

You pull her into a hug, her body soft and warm, hand slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to spread over your back.

“So. Did I do a good job?”

“Could've been worse.”

You shove away from her with a booming laugh, ducking beneath the arm attempting to grab you. “Go fuck yourself.”

She follows you back into the kitchen and watches as you clean up the table. Takes a seat in her slid-back chair as you wipe the specks of blood from your tools.

“I like your hair, by the way,” you say, shooting her a smile over your shoulder.

She exhales a breath, chair creaking beneath her shifting weight. “I’m so glad you approve.”

“Can’t you ever just take a compliment?”

“No.” She waits for you to finish up before she tugs you into her lap again, arm a solid weight around your waist. No getting away this time (but that involves actually wanting to). You relax into her, soaking up her warmth, head resting against her shoulder. “I haven’t thanked you yet.”

“You don’t have to. Making you bleed is enough of a reward.”

She clicks her teeth then sinks them into the pulse of your neck so hard your skin threatens to break, lips spreading into a smile when you jolt at the sharp pang. “Brat.”

“You love it.” A hand cards through her hair, strands as soft as you remember, blunt nails scratching at her crown.

You can breathe now that she’s here again, safe within the four walls of your home. A bit worse for wear, but she always is when she comes back to you. Takes a few days to catch up on sleep before she comes back to herself. You blame it on the adrenaline.

In her arms, you find comfort and—

her hand slips beneath the waistband of your sleep pants

—something a bit more vulgar.

Giving thanks.

“You don’t have to.”

A beat of silence. “Can I?”

Your heart batters the cage of your ribs at the brush of her lips against your cheek, at the fingers that she slips beneath your underwear.

“Always,” you say, legs spreading in invitation.

She hums, mutters a, “Good girl,” under her breath, and your lungs empty in a rush when she brushes over your clit.

Gods, what did you ever do to deserve this? Her?

She pulls her hand away, hooking a thumb beneath your pants. Says, “Off,” and you quickly obey. Stand up long enough to discard all your clothes before settling back against her.

If only she were naked, too, but she becomes unbearably stubborn when she sets her mind to something. Especially when it comes to you. Can’t think straight when she sees a pair of tits.

She picks up right where she left off, fingers circling over your clit as she leaves suckling kisses down the line of your neck and the curve of your shoulder. Getting you wet, loosening you up for the stretch of her fingers. You grind up into her touch, and she laughs cruelly, mocking you for being so needy, cunt already slicking up her fingers.

You want to bitch at her, to say have you seen yourself? or it’s been a while or I think I love you. But she finds the rhythm that she learned well, that tightens the sunstorm coil in the pit of your belly, and all you can do is breathe through the pleasure.

When you tilt your head, your lips brush against her cheek. Need to kiss her so bad, like you always do when she has you spread like this. But there’s the matter of that fucking piercing, and she kisses like she fights—strategic and aggressive, and you’d rather not get her bleeding again.

You whine. “‘s not fair.”

“What isn’t?”

“I can’t kiss you.”

She buries her nose in your hair to stifle a laugh. “Such a baby. You’ll live.”

Cruel. A cruel, mean woman that seeks to rip your soul from your body. Presses all your buttons, says all the right things, lays claim to your skin like she knows you go crazy for. It’s almost embarrassing how well she rips you apart.

Well. It would be if she wasn’t so damn good at it.

Finally, she stuffs you full with two long fingers, the stretch licking heat up your spine. Groans at how wet you are for her, because of her.

“Touch yourself,” she whispers, and your eyes roll back when your fingers find your swollen clit. “That's it.”

If she doesn't stop whispering in your ear, nosing at your temple, you might actually combust. Especially when she pairs the noisy thrusting of her fingers with filthy promises. Tells you how pretty you look. How nice you feel when you cum around her. Wishing she could stuff you with something bigger, something to make you squirm.

When your thighs begin to shake, she fucks you harder, fighting the thrusts of your hips and the clench of your pussy.

The coil in your belly finally snaps, and you collapse against her to ride out your orgasm, breath seizing in your lungs. Every muscle in your body tightens as the coil in your belly slowly unravels.

And when your fingers pull away from your clit, she stops. Lingers inside you until the last of the aftershocks dissipate before she shoves her fingers between your teeth.

On instinct, you swallow them down and suck them clean. A routine woven in the fabric of your DNA.

Soon, she gets restless, and you know it's time to get up. You fetch your clothes on shaky legs, and she takes the opportunity to smooth a still-wet hand over your ass when you bend over.

“Listen. Shit's been heating up between the chem-barons.”

You throw your shirt over your head, turning to face her. “What kinda shit?”

“Turf wars. People are getting hurt. Which means,” she suddenly stands as a show of authority, straightening to her full height, “I don't want you going out unless absolutely necessary.”

Her concern makes your chest flutter, makes your brain fizzle out for a moment as something sweet and tender grows between your ribs.

So of course, you respond in jest.

“Aw. So you do care about me.”

She grabs your face, tilts your head up to meet her hard gaze, and your eyes widen in surprise. “I'm serious. At least until things cool off.”

You nod as best you can around the strength of her fingers, and she releases you with a sigh. Collects her cape from the back of the chair so you can help secure it around her shoulders.

“I have to go. Always a fucking mess to mop up.”

You squeeze the curve of her waist, committing to memory the softness, the warmth of her skin. Who knows the next time she'll be back. You gotta have something to dream about.

“Be careful. I do like having you around, ya know.”

She shrugs. Gives you a small, tender smile. “I know.”

And just like that, she's gone.

[aventurineswife]

HEYYYYYYY if I can may I ask for Aventurine, Sunday and Dan Hang protecting reader when they get badly injured protecting them please ( I’ve been desperate for some angst and comfort recently with them 😭😭 )

“If I Fall, Let It Be for You”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Protectiveness, Sacrifice, Vulnerability, Emotional Conflict, Guilt, Platonic or Romantic Love, Selflessness, Inner Struggles.

Warnings: Graphic injury, Blood, Violence, Desperation, Guilt, Emotional distress, Death-related themes.

A/N: Hope you like this!! 🫣

The battlefield stretched before you, a blur of smoke and chaos. You had acted on instinct—throwing yourself in front of Dan Heng to block a strike meant for him. The blade tore through your side, pain radiating through your body as you stumbled.

“[Name]!” Dan Heng’s voice, usually so calm and composed, cracked as he caught you in his arms. His eyes widened, a rare display of emotion breaking through his stoic mask.

You gave him a weak smile, your hand clutching the bleeding wound. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

His jaw tightened, and his grip on you was firm yet trembling. “You should never have done that.” There was an edge to his voice, sharp and laden with guilt.

You tried to speak, but the pain was overwhelming. Darkness crept at the edges of your vision, and you felt yourself fading.

“Stay with me,” Dan Heng ordered, his voice softer now but no less desperate. He cradled you closer, his usually steady hands pressing against your wound to stem the bleeding. “You can’t leave me. Not like this.”

He carried you swiftly to a safe spot behind the ruins, shielding you from the chaos. His spear, Cloud-Piercer, stood guard nearby, its sharp tip still dripping with the blood of your enemies. Dan Heng tore a strip of fabric from his coat, fashioning a makeshift bandage to stop the bleeding.

“Why?” he asked quietly, his gaze fixed on your pale face. “Why would you put yourself in harm’s way for me?”

You managed a weak chuckle despite the pain. “Because I care about you, Dan Heng. Even if you keep pushing people away, I won’t stop protecting you.”

His breath hitched, and for a moment, his usual reserve cracked. “I don’t deserve it. Not after everything I’ve done… everything I’ve failed to prevent.”

“You’re wrong,” you whispered, your hand reaching up to brush against his cheek. “You’re worth it to me.”

Dan Heng’s eyes softened, guilt and sorrow mingling with something deeper—something he had tried so hard to suppress. He didn’t speak, but his actions spoke volumes. He leaned into your touch, his fingers brushing your hair as if trying to commit every detail of you to memory.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised, his voice low but resolute. “Not again.”

Dan Heng stayed by your side, his spear within reach, ready to defend you from any further threat. The battle raged on around you, but his focus never wavered. He wasn’t just protecting you now—he was protecting the fragile hope you had given him, the chance for something beyond the weight of his past.

And in his quiet way, Dan Heng vowed to repay the trust you had shown him, no matter the cost.

The echoes of the gunfire still reverberated in the empty corridors, a cruel reminder of the chaos that had just unfolded. Aventurine stood frozen for a moment, the world around him slowing to a crawl. The usually confident smirk plastered on his face had vanished, replaced by a rare expression of raw, unfiltered fear.

You lay crumpled on the ground, your blood pooling beneath you. You had thrown yourself in front of him, a human shield against the sniper's bullet that had been meant for his chest.

“Why?” Aventurine whispered, his voice trembling as he knelt beside you, his gloved hands hesitating before pressing against your wound. His pristine, gold-adorned sleeves soaked in crimson as he tried to stem the bleeding. "You absolute fool. What were you thinking?"

Your eyes fluttered open, a weak smile playing on your lips despite the pain. "Because I knew you'd never let yourself be hit," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "You're too important... too smart to take risks like that."

Aventurine let out a bitter laugh, one that sounded more like a sob. "And yet here you are, bleeding out because of me," he muttered, his tone laced with guilt and frustration. "You're supposed to stay out of the crossfire, not throw yourself into it like some kind of martyr."

The mask he wore so effortlessly in high-stakes games and political negotiations shattered in that moment. He was no longer the composed strategist, the man who always had a plan. He was just Kakavasha—terrified, helpless, and desperate to keep you alive.

“Stay with me,” he commanded, his voice shaking as he pulled out his communicator and barked orders for immediate medical assistance. “You don’t get to leave like this. Not here, not now.”

Your hand weakly reached up, brushing against his cheek. "I trust you, Aventurine," you whispered, your voice faltering. "You'll fix this... you always do."

His eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he pressed his forehead against yours. "I’m a gambler, not a miracle worker," he admitted softly, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. "But if there’s one thing I never bet against... it’s you."

The minutes felt like hours as he stayed by your side, murmuring reassurances that neither of you believed. His mind raced, calculating odds and outcomes, but none of his usual strategies could guarantee your survival. For the first time in years, Aventurine felt powerless.

When the medics finally arrived, he refused to leave your side, riding with you to the emergency unit despite their protests. As the doors closed behind them and the sterile lights flickered above, Aventurine made a silent vow.

No matter the cost, he would ensure you lived to see another gamble, another day by his side. Because without you, even victory would feel like defeat.

The clash of blades and the sound of explosions filled the air, but Sunday’s focus was solely on you. The two of you had been ambushed, and though he had held his ground, one stray attacker had slipped through his defenses, aiming for his unprotected flank.

You hadn’t hesitated. You’d stepped in without thinking, intercepting the blow meant for him. Now, you lay slumped against a ruined wall, clutching your side as blood seeped through your fingers.

“Why... why would you do that?” Sunday asked, his voice trembling as he knelt beside you. His eyes, usually so calm and composed, were wide with panic. He pressed his hands over yours, trying to stop the bleeding. The glow of his halo seemed dimmer, as if it mirrored the dread coursing through him.

“You needed protecting,” you gasped, a weak smile crossing your lips. “That’s what friends do, right?”

“Foolish,” Sunday whispered, his tone a mixture of frustration and anguish. "I am the one who should be protecting you." He gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his gloved hands trembling. “You shouldn’t have to suffer because of me.”

Your hand reached for his, squeezing weakly. "You’re worth it."

Sunday’s breath hitched, and for a moment, his dignified mask crumbled. "No one is worth losing you," he admitted, his voice barely audible. “Not even me.”

The world around the two of you seemed to fade away as Sunday focused solely on keeping you conscious. He whispered soft reassurances, his usually formal tone replaced with a raw, desperate plea. “Stay with me,” he urged. “I’ll fix this. I swear it.”

Using his limited healing abilities, Sunday poured his energy into stabilizing you. The effort left him visibly drained, his face pale and his breaths labored, but he refused to stop. "I’ve seen too much suffering," he murmured, more to himself than to you. "I won’t allow it to claim you."

As reinforcements arrived and medical aid was administered, Sunday stood by your side, his presence a steady anchor amidst the chaos. When you were finally safe, he let out a shaky breath, brushing his thumb across your knuckles.

"You risked yourself for me," he said quietly, his eyes softening. “But know this: I will never allow you to come to harm again. You are too precious to lose.”

In that moment, you saw a side of Sunday he rarely revealed—a man burdened by the weight of his ideals, yet willing to fight against them for the sake of someone he cherished.