#the tattoo is magic and moves around on them

[eggs-love-loki]

My current favorite NPC from our dnd campaign- Bilstrum is the tanner of the town we’re passing through and they’re a delight and they’re hot which makes them an extra delight

[sturnioz]

‘CRUSH’ — MATTHEW STURNIOLO

pairing. drummer!matthew sturniolo x reader genre. band au, smut, fluff

word count. 10.1k

❝let me take you backstage. just you and me, yeah?❞

content warnings. explicit content, alcohol usage, mentions of weed, unprotected sex, backstage sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, praising, creampie,

authors note. fake bands are mentioned in this. if there is a band with the same name out there, im sorry lol

Despite his love for blending in with the crowd and remaining mysterious and unseen, Matt is anything but unnoticeable. The singular stripe of red dye in his black hair, the black eyeliner that smudges at the corners of his eyes, the tattoos that decorate his arms, and the oversized graphic clothing that drowns his frame… he stands out.

Matt—admittedly—sticks out like a sore thumb.

It isn’t exactly his fault. (It is, but he won’t admit it).

Matt loves tattooing his skin with crazy and memorable designs, wearing clothes far larger than his usual size, and stomping around in heavy boots. Matt also loves filling his waterline with black eyeliner and accessorising with silver jewellery. 

Painting his nails is another favourite of his too, though he usually goes for a chipped, all-black look.

It also doesn’t help that Matt is in a band alongside his brothers and childhood best friend. While the band isn’t huge, they perform almost every weekend at a popular bar in their hometown, attracting a crowd over 100 people that try their best to cram themselves in just to see them whenever they manage to book a gig.

So, maybe it is his fault.

But he never expected the level of attention it would bring him—eyes ogling from every direction, hushed whispers whenever he enters a room, and a constant stream of compliments filling his DMs on social media as well as being said directly to his face.

Matt secretly loves the attention, but he has never been the one to make a move when girls throw themselves at him, hinting for a quick hook-up or even a relationship. He just wasn't interested enough—no one has ever truly captured his attention.

That is until he saw you at one of the band’s gigs.

You were sitting in a booth with a friend, sipping a Coke through a straw and taking in your seemingly unfamiliar surroundings. Matt was instantly captivated by your presence, wanting nothing more than to gather the courage to walk over and strike a conversation—to learn more about you. 

“Starin’ makes you look creepy.”

Matt’s bandmate and childhood best friend, Nate, remarks, hardly even glancing Matt’s way. His attention is instead confused on his own reflection in the mirror backdrop behind the bar, standing on his tiptoes to see better over the rows of liquor bottles, trying to restyle his newly dyed hair, the sweat on his forehead causing his bangs to stick.

Nate continues, “Go talk to her. Work that so-called ‘Matt Magic’ I hear Chris yappin’ about.”

“Trust me, it’s real.” Chris declares, suddenly appearing and throwing himself down into the seat beside Matt.

He slams a tray of multicoloured shots onto the bar counter, spilling half the contents and leaving the bartender cursing under his breath as he wipes up the mess, glaring at Chris who just grins cheekily, avoiding confrontation.

“I’ve seen it with my own eyes, alright?” Chris continues. “It works like magic—makes the ladies drop to their knees in an instant.”

Nate’s brow raises in amusement, “In the many years I’ve known Matt, I’ve never seen him hook-up or flirt with anyone…” Nate pauses, a teasing grin sliding onto his lips. “Got some problems goin’ on down there or what?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Matt grumbles, swatting away Nate’s hand as he tries to reach out and pat his cheek. 

Nate cackles, shaking his head as he grabs one of the shots that Chris eagerly hands out to the group. He then calls out to Nick, who emerges from backstage, adjusting the leather jacket on his shoulders as he settles down beside Chris.

Chris hums as he tugs the collar of Nick’s shirt down, “Nice marks, kid. Who was it this time?”

“None of your fucking business.” Nick answers with a hiss, running his fingers through his blonde hair.

“You’re always in mine,” Chris shoots back, causing Nick to gape at him. “Don’t give me that look, kid. You’re always yappin’ in my ear about the sisters.”

“Oh, Thing 1 and Thing 2,” Nick grins at the mention of the twin sisters that Chris frequently hooks-up with. “Who was the one that was here last time?”

“Zoe,” Chris answers, but the blank look on Nick’s face causes Chris to sigh in annoyance before clarifying, “Thing 1.”

“I thought Thing 1 was Chloe?” Nate chimes in, pulling a confused face.

Chris is quick to jump to Zoe’s defence, arguing that she’s number one, but Matt tunes out the rest of the conversation, rolling his eyes as he picks up the shot glass and downs it quickly before bringing his beer bottle up to his lips.

He then turns his neck slightly to look over at you once again, spotting you this time smiling at your friend and clinking your simple glass of Coke to her colourful cocktail.

Matt can’t help but continue sneaking glances your way. He is, undoubtedly, interested in you. This is unfamiliar territory for him—he’s never felt this drawn to someone before.

He’s not scared or nervous, and he really would walk on over to you to begin a conversation if it wasn’t for the fact you weren’t alone. Your friend was glued to your side… and he hated it.

Matt inwardly curses, wishing he could just get rid of your friend and have you all to himself for the night, but you two seem inseparable. He takes another swig of his beer, his mind racing with ideas. There has to be a way to separate you from your friend, even if it was just for a moment.

He can’t let this opportunity slip away, he’s going to have to find a way to get you alone. Or he’s going to have to wait for the right moment.

“I think he’s staring at me,” Talia whispers across the booth to you. She straightens her posture and runs her fingers through her hair, fixing any stray strands as she takes a quick glance at her reflection in her phone screen. “How do I look? Do I have something in my teeth?”

“You look fine,” You reassure with a nod, sipping your Coke through the straw. Your eyebrows knit together in curiosity as you watch Talia fuss over her appearance, pulling the neckline of her dress lower to show more cleavage. “But who’s staring at you?”

“The tattooed guy with the red strand in his hair, sitting at the bar behind y—The fuck? Don’t turn around!” You ignore Talia’s feeble attempts to redirect your attention as you spin around, easily spotting the man sitting at the bar surrounded by other similar-looking people.

You snort at the sight, but can’t help but notice his attention doesn’t seem to be on your friend. Slowly turning back to face Talia, you see her shoulders sag in defeat.

“He was staring. He looked away as soon as you turned around.”

“I believe you,” You tell her, getting comfortable in your seat as you observe the way she takes quick glances behind you, holding her head high with confidence. “Who is he, anyways?”

“You’re kidding,” Talia baffles, her eyes going wide. She takes offence when you shake your head. “It’s Matt. The guy that’s on my Instagram feed. His band is playing tonight—he’s the reason why we’re here!”

You frown at that, “I thought you wanted to hang out?”

“I do!” Talia quickly says, but you’re less than impressed. She exhales deeply, “Listen… Matt is the drummer in the band that performed earlier, and I haven’t been able to have much free time to see them play. On top of that, we haven’t hung out in a while and this is the only weekend we seem to be available — so I’m basically hitting two birds with one stone here, can you really blame me?”

“Guess not.” You sigh, even though you’re still not impressed with what’s going on.

You felt a little bit used and lied to, especially when she burst through your dorm room earlier and rambled excitedly about how she’s looking forward to spending some time with you tonight.

Your mood turns sour when it dawns on you that you'll most likely be heading back to your dorm room alone tonight, knowing that she will probably blow you off to go blow off some other guy—literally.

You wish you were the type of person to be selfish — to tell her that you’re not happy with her possibly leaving you to go hook-up with some guy, and demand her to stay with you all night to catch up and go home together with a takeout bag full of junk food, and watch a shitty old movie on your small laptop screen.

But you’ve never been that way.

You have never been selfish.

“I need to go pee,” Talia announces, her face twisting in discomfort as she pushes her empty cocktail glass across the table and awkwardly shuffles out of the booth. She picks up her handbag and rummages through quickly, pulling out her purse and shoving it in your hands. “Go get us another drink, and no more Cokes for you either.”

You don’t even get the chance to say anything as Talia waddles away in a rush towards the bathrooms and you push yourself out of the booth with a huff, clutching her purse in your grasp as you weave through the crowd of people blocking your path to the bar, seemingly busy with their conversations to even make room.

The grip on Talia’s purse tightens as you finally reach the counter, watching the bartender lean in to chat up some customer with a flirtatious smile. 

You debate on going back to the booth and waiting for Talia so she can work her charm to get you both more drinks. But you decide against it, instead hoisting yourself up onto a vacant barstool, so focussed on the bartender and his cheesy pickup lines that you’re completely unaware of who is sitting next to you.

Matt struggles to contain himself when he feels your shoulder brush against his as you sit down beside him at the bar. He steals a quick glance your way, his heart racing, but you’re focussed intently on the bartender, seemingly oblivious to Matt’s presence.  

Matt knows Brent, the bartender, all too well—he’s notorious for getting distracted as he flirts with customers, leaving others waiting, so you won’t be getting served any time soon.

This could be Matt’s chance to finally talk to you, to have the conversation he’s been yearning for since he first laid eyes on you. But the words catch in his throat, and he finds himself unable to face you directly, especially with his bandmates mocking him from the corner of his eye.

Chris makes obnoxious kissing noises, causing Matt to snap his head in that direction, but Chris doesn’t back down from his teasing as he grins and nudges his shoulder. 

“C’mon, kid. Show us that ‘Matt Magic’,” The wiggle of Chris’s eyebrows makes Matt want to fight, his knuckles turning white from the grip he has around his beer bottle. Chris quickly throws his hands up in defence. “Just want you to have some fun, man.”

“As much as it pains me to admit it—like it actually hurts me—Chris is right,” Nick chimes in, his eyes flitting between Matt and yourself, who is still wrapped up in your own head to hear the conversation that’s going on. It surprises him. “You’re surrounded by very beautiful women who clearly show interest in you, and you don’t give a fuck. At all.” 

“Maybe Matt does have some problems goin’ on down there…” Nate drawls as his eyes dip down to Matt’s jeans, tilting his head to the side teasingly. Matt rolls his eyes at Nate’s comment and reaches out to kick him, but Nick intervenes by pushing Nate to the side while Chris grins, amused by the situation.

“Look,” Nick sighs. “As much as I would love for you to get out there, it’s all on your terms. Don’t let these fucks peer pressure you into doing shit.”

Matt doesn’t feel pressured, not one bit.

But all he wants right now is for his brothers and friend to give him some space so he can be alone with you. It would be the perfect opportunity, and he wouldn’t have to worry about the others making grand gestures behind his back or worse, interrupting the conversation. 

As if reading his mind, Nick grips the back of Chris and Nate’s shirts, hauling them away from the bar, though they don’t stay too far—still within reach of their drinks and shots. 

It’s not perfect, but it’ll have to do. 

Matt takes a deep breath, gently tugging on the earring dangling from his ear as he finally turns in his seat to face you… just in time for the bartender to finish his flirting. 

Fuck.

“Sorry about that,” The bartender apologises to you with a faint chuckle as he stands in front of you, running his fingers through his dark hair and adjusting the glasses on the bridge of his nose before resting his hands on his hips.

It gives you a full view of his all black sleeveless shirt that’s tucked into a pair of dark jeans, and you can’t help but notice the white name tag that stands out against the outfit, identifying him as Brent. 

Brent gives you a charming smile, “What can I get for you?”

You hesitate for a moment, trying to remember the name of the cocktail Talia had ordered earlier. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you scan the drinks menu above the bar, pointing to the cheapest options and you’re about to speak up until a voice suddenly interrupts you.

“Can I have a beer, a cosmopolitan, and a Coke?”

You whip your head to the side in annoyance, ready to give the rude customer a piece of your mind for cutting in. But the insults die on your lips as you realise who exactly it is. 

It’s the tattooed arm and the flash of red in his hair that lets you know who it is—the guy that Talia has been non-stop talking about, and has been so fascinated with the past couple of months, and even the main topic of tonight's conversations. 

Your eyebrows raise in slight shock. You’re beginning to see the appeal… Matt is really pretty. 

With Matt seated so close—shoulder to shoulder—you have the opportunity to really take in every detail of his appearance. Though you’ve basically heard Talia rave about him, you’ve never seen him up close and personal before. 

The smudged eyeliner and subtle black eyeshadow around his blue eyes give him a slightly intimidating look, but there’s a certain allure to it that makes you sink back into your seat, captivated. 

You can’t help but notice the tattoos decorating his arm, the flash of vibrant red in his hair, and the small hole on the side of his nostril that makes you wonder if that’s where a nose piercing once was. The redness around the area suggests he or someone else may have attempted to pierce it recently — perhaps even today.

“That’s what you’re both drinkin’, yeah?” Matt’s question snaps you out of your captivated staring, and he shifts in his seat as he turns to face you fully, the chains on his all-black outfit jingling with his movements.

As he drums his fingernails against the bar as he waits for your answer, you notice the black chipped nail polish, some definitely more chipped than others, but the look suits his edgy appearance perfectly.

“Yes—yeah, I think so…”  You answer quickly, realising you’ve been quiet for far too long. But then you pause, your face twisting in confusion as you glance between him and the drinks being made. “How did you know that?”

The corner of Matt’s lip curves upwards in amusement, and he shrugs his shoulders. “I guessed.”

“Here you go, gorgeous,” Brent interrupts as he slides the cocktail and Coke glass in your direction with precise aim, managing to not spill a drop. He then settles the beer bottle down in front of Matt next. “That will be—”

“Wait, can I get another one of those?” You cut him off as you point to the pink-coloured concoction in front of you, and Brent sends a wink your way as he turns on his heel to prepare the drink.

You give him a small smile as a thank you and you turn back to look at Matt who’s already looking at you with his eyebrow raised, and you suddenly feel the need to explain yourself.

“It’s for me.”

Matt nods slowly, “Had enough of the Cokes?”

“No, not exactly… She told me earlier not to get another one,” You say as you glance down at the full glass of Coke in front of you with pursed lips. “But I’ll still take this, you know, just in case I don’t like the cocktail.”

Matt smiles at that, and he reaches for the beer bottle with one hand while the other dips inside his pocket as soon as Brent returns with your newly made drink. He gives you the price and your eyes almost bulge out at the numbers, swallowing down the lump in your throat as you tell him you’ll pay by card.

You’re already mentally preparing yourself for Talia’s reaction when she finds out about the cost. It makes you grimace just thinking about the consequences as you dig through her purse to find her card, but the sound of a machine beeping brings you out of your search, and you lift your head to see Matt with his arm outstretched, his own bank card in hand and pressed down on the card reader.

Did he just…?

Your mouth repeatedly opens and closes in shock, unable to fully process what just happened even though it was the most simplest thing. 

Brent’s giving Matt an amused look, his tongue prodding at his cheek to hide the obvious smirk on his face as he shoves the card reader back beneath the bar, and he flutters his fingers at you for a quick goodbye as he serves another customer — you briefly overhear him compliment their hair, but you pay him no attention as you’re meeting eyes with Matt who seems nonchalant about paying for all of your pricey drinks.

“You didn’t have to do that,” You protest quietly. “I had the money, I—”

“I wanted to,” Matt cuts you off, bringing his beer to his lip and taking a sip all while keeping his eyes on you. “I haven’t seen you around this bar before, so think of it as a welcome gift… from me to you.”

“That’s… sweet. Thank you,” You show him your gratitude, warmth spreading in your chest at his unexpected gesture.

Matt nods his head and reaches over to gently clink his beer bottle against one of your cocktail glasses before taking a sip. You decide to follow suit, bringing the reddish-pink cocktail drunk to your lips.

But the second the liquid touches your tongue, your face twists in an unexpected reaction to the flavour, the taste catching you by surprise which causes the involuntary expression that flashes across your features. 

Matt watches your reaction intently, an amused glint in his eye as he takes another sip of his beer while you place the cocktail back down on the bar to quickly grab your glass of Coke, washing down the taste with something you’re a lot more familiar with.

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s different,” You admit with an awkward laugh. You feel slightly embarrassed at pulling the most unattractive face and not enjoying a drink that he bought out of his money. “But it’s still a gift, so I’ll drink it.”

“Nah, you don’t have to do that,” Matt shakes his head, the amusement still sparkling in his eyes as he reaches for his card. “Let me buy you another—”

“No!” You immediately interject, not wanting him to spend any more of his money on the expensive drinks. Matt seems a little surprised at your sudden burst, and he reels his hand back to his lap. You cringe at your tone before adding. “I will drink it.”

“Yeah?” He hums, his eyes flitting down to the cocktail on the bar before meeting your gaze again. He tilts his head slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. “Are you sure about that?”

Your heart thumps at the intensity of his stare, a look you’re unfamiliar with. You nod, doing your best to sound confident as you mutter, “Very.”

“Was there a queue at the bar or something? You took so long,” Talia frowns as soon as you arrive back at your shared booth with both cocktails in hand.

Your tongue pokes out in concentration, careful to not spill anything as you hand one over to Talia who takes it in her grasp.

“Thanks, babe. But did you not use my card? I didn’t get the notification on my phone that my card was being used—did you get us a cosmopolitan?! Do you realise how fucking expensive these are here?!”

“Relax, I didn’t buy these,” You tell her as you slide into the booth, sliding Talia her purse. She stares at you, confusion written across her face, so you clarify; “Courtesy of your favourite drummer boy.”

“Matt bought me a drink?” The look that plasters across Talia’s face is priceless, and you bite back the urge to add on how he bought your drink too. But you let her live in her moment as you nod your head, watching as she takes the information in with wide, excited eyes. “Holy shit. He totally likes me—I fucking knew it. Did he say anything?”

“About what?” You ask, your brows pulling together and Talia points at herself. “Oh, no, not really. He was just talking about alcohol, you know… considering we were both at the bar.”

Talia sighs dreamily, “My type of guy.”

“Yeah, he seems interesting.” You find yourself agreeing, pressing your lips firmly together as you glance over your shoulder in a somewhat hopeful manner that you’ll see Matt still at the bar, sipping his beer or maybe even watching you from afar. But when you don’t see him, you feel an unexpected pang of disappointment.

It’s strange — you’ve never spoken to Matt before today, and your interaction was brief. Yet there’s something about him that has piqued your curiosity, leaving you wanting to know more.

You struggle to explain this newfound fascination. It’s completely out of character for you to be so preoccupied with a near-stranger, especially one that is your best friend’s crush. Normally, you would shrug something like this off and focus on the evening with Talia.

But now, there’s a heaviness in your chest, a restless energy that has you craving another encounter with Matt. 

Was it the intensity of his gaze that captivated you? The confident, almost flirtatious yet mysterious way he carried himself? Or was it simply the unexpected gesture of buying you a drink — a gesture that, for whatever reason, has left a lasting impression.

You’ve never been like this before. 

So why now? Why all of a sudden?

“What are you thinking about?” Talia’s voice yanks you out of your thoughts and you turn your head back in her direction. You quickly shrug your shoulders and shake your head to silently tell her that it was nothing, but she doesn’t seem convinced. “I don’t believe you.”

“I’m not thinking—”

“You were staring at the bar,” Talia points out before she decides to follow your gaze, her lips pursing in deep thought as she scans the surroundings. She suddenly smiles, “Are you staring at Brent? The bartender?”

“I said I’m—”

“You should go for it. I heard he gives really good head and honestly—no offence—you need it. He could definitely loosen you up and give you a good time.”

You deadpan, “Are you saying that because it’s the truth, or is it because you’ll feel bad that I’d have to walk home alone while you’re getting laid?”

“Both.” Talia sends you a sly wink, and she clinks her cocktail glass to yours before taking a sip.

You exhale softly with a roll of your eyes, reaching for your own cocktail until your hand stops halfway when you realise you’ve lost the Coke you had left at the bar — it’s likely been snatched up by another customer that got excited over a free drink. 

You really don’t like the flavour of his cocktail, and you find yourself wishing you had something to wash it down with. It pains you.

You consider being a bit dramatic, holding your nose to avoid tasting it, or digging through your purse for some gum that you know is pooling at the bottom somewhere. But you decide to just suck it up and drink it without making a fuss.

After all, it was a gift.

Just as you’re about to bring the glass to your lips, another is suddenly placed in front of you — a fresh, bubbly Coke with ice and a red straw that faces towards you..

Talia’s the first to respond to this stranger, her hand flying to cover her mouth to stifle her reaction as she chokes on her drink, her eyes strained and watery. You check on her to make sure that she’s okay before you glance up, slightly taken aback when you see Matt.

“You forgot your drink at the bar,” He tells you in a low tone. His eyes flick down to the cocktail in your hands, and his eyebrow raises slightly. “Are you sure you’re goin' to drink it?”

“I was going to.” Your reply in a whisper. But before you can say anything else, Matt is taking the cocktail from your hands and replacing it with the fresh Coke he’s brought over.

He holds the stem of the cocktail glass between his fingers, eyeing the brightly coloured drink for a moment before sliding it over to Talia, who is still uncharacteristically speechless. She quickly regains her composure, grasping the drink and pulling it close to her chest, as if it’s the most meaningful thing anyone has ever done for her.

“Enjoy this one instead,” Matt murmurs to you, and just as he begins to turn away, you find yourself calling out his name.

You’re not entirely sure why you’ve done so — perhaps it’s a reluctance to let him go so quickly, a desire to indulge the growing fascination you’ve developed for him. Or maybe it’s because you can see the gears turning in Talia’s head as she tries to figure out how to start a conversation with him—to flirt with him.

You’re a good friend to Talia, you always have been.

You always put her first.

“Do you want to join us?” You offer with a friendly smile, and you gesture towards the empty seat opposite you—beside Talia. “You’re welcome to come sit with us and hang out, unless you have somewhere else to be?”

Matt is quiet for a moment, his eyes darting around the bar as if he’s searching for something, but then he nods and takes you up on your offer. Talia’s beaming ear to ear with excitement, shuffling to the side to make space for him on her side of the booth.

But to your surprise, Matt sits down beside you instead, his shoulder knocking heavily against yours as he settles into the small space. He apologises quickly, lifting a hand to gently rub the sore spot.

You find yourself glued to your seat, sandwiched between the wooden barrier on the right and Matt’s body pressed against your left. The heat radiating off him envelops you, but you try not to pay too much attention to it, especially when you see Talia eyeing the two of you with a slightly wrinkled nose and an upturned lip.

However, Talia’s expression soon shifts to a grin as she turns her attention to Matt, “Thank you for buying the drinks,” She gestures towards the cocktail in front of her. “I’ll get your next one.”

“I appreciate that,” Matt replies, dipping his head in gratitude. 

He takes a quick sip of his beer, and you notice Talia watching him carefully, her eyebrows furrowing as she tilts her head, trying to read the label from her seat.

Matt seems to pick up on this, and he comically and slowly rotates the bottle in Talia’s direction. “It’s new — Brent got it delivered today.”

“Lost Boys? He got a drink named after one of your songs?” Talia teases playfully, and Matt simply nods in response. You fight the urge to snort at that fact, finding it a little amusing.

“You should try it,” Matt nudges you softly, offering you a taste of his beer. You are about to decline, to shake your head and say you’re fine with the Coke, but the smile that dances across his lips is enough to make you slowly change your mind. “I think you might like this better than the cocktail.”

You don’t question it further, and instead take the beer in your hands, taking a tentative sip. You’re a bit hesitant on the initial taste, rubbing your lips together firmly as Matt and Talia watch you, waiting for your honest opinion. you just take the beer in your hands for a sip and you’re hesitant on the taste that hits your tongue, rubbing your lips together firmly as the pair watch you, waiting for your honest opinion.

You swallow thickly, but are pleasantly surprised. “It’s actually really good.”

Matt hums, “Told you.”

“Let me try,” Talia chimes in, reaching out for the beer. You happily hand it over to her, but then you realise your mistake, turning to look at Matt with a slightly apologetic look on your face as it dawns on you that you’re sharing around his drink. 

Matt’s already watching you when you look at him, and you go to apologise, but Talia’s already handing him back his beer with a satisfied expression. 

“I like it too—it’s sweet.” She confirms. 

“That can be the next round of drinks then, yeah?” Matt says, his eyes briefly darting down to Talia’s purse beside her. 

Talia’s smile falters for a moment when she remembers that she was the one that offered to buy him his next drink. You can tell she’s thinking about the dent these drinks are going to put on her bank account, but she quickly musters up another smile and nods her head, excited at the thought of buying Matt something.

Before Talia can respond, you decide to come to her aid as your hand slips towards your own purse. “You don’t have to buy the next drink. We can go in halves—”

“Don’t offend me like that,” Talia cuts you off with a playful flip of her hair. “I have the money. I’ll get it.”

You wince at that, unconvinced. “You sure?”

“Totally,” Talia smirks. She then turns to face Matt, who has been quietly sipping his beer. “Your set earlier was fucking amazing, by the way. The band is so—”

“DID SOMEBODY SAY SHOTS?!” An unfamiliar voice screeches at the top of their lungs as a tray of multicoloured shots is suddenly thrust onto the table in front of you all, causing some of the liquid to spill over. A quick hand reaches out to try and recover them despite half of the liquid pooling around the tray.

As your eyes trail up the arm of the person who brought over the shots, you’re surprised to see an identical-looking guy to Matt, but with a backwards cap on his curly head of brown hair. His cheeks are flushed—a clear sign that he’s had quite a bit to drink already.

Standing on one side of him is another identical-looking guy, but with blonde hair, and he’s cursing under his breath and scolding the backwards capped one for the mess he’s created.

The capped guy is trying (and failing) to scoop the spilled alcohol back into the cups using just his pinky finger. It’s a comical sight, with his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in pure concentration.

“This is the second fuckin’ time this has happened,” Matt informs with a sigh, but the chuckle that escapes him shows he’s not as annoyed as he’s letting on. “Chris also spilled them earlier.”

The backwards capped guy, who you now discover is named Chris, snaps his head up in offence at Matt’s comment and stops his failed attempts at trying to scoop the alcohol back into the shot glasses.

“I tripped over your fuckin’ dumbass shoe actually,” Chris hisses through his teeth as he knocks his foot against Matt, who doesn’t seem fazed at the attack at all. “Anyway. Scoot up, let us in.”

“Are you joining us?” Talia’s eyes twinkle at the thought of her favourite band joining the booth, and you couldn’t help but feel happy for her, knowing that she’s been waiting for this moment to happen.

However, you can’t help but feel a bit confused and slightly worried about where the others would fit, especially inside the cramped booth. It could fit four people at most, but you weren’t sure about the six. You’re already feeling a bit squished beside Matt and the wooden barrier.

“Of course we’re joining you, that’s the reason why we got shots.” The blonde-haired guy, who you found out is called Nick, scoffs as he makes a quick gesture to Talia to scoot up, creating just enough room for him and the other bandmate, Nate (who funnily enough has a name tag written across his chest), to squeeze in on her side of the booth.

“Excuse me, kid.” Chris grunts as he clamps a hand down on Matt’s shoulder to push himself up, placing his shoe on the smallest bit of booth space between Matt’s legs before climbing over you both, muttering how he doesn’t want to sit on the end.

Matt’s arm slides around your middle in an instant as he moves to the edge of the booth, pulling you along with him to let Chris sit at your other side, allowing Chris to be squashed between you and the wooden barrier instead. He weirdly seems okay with it, although he does wince when he feels your purse dig into his side, and you’re quick to move it with an apology, but he dismisses it with a wave and a kind smile.

Now you’re pressed right up against Matt, his arm bringing you even close to him. After a few moments, he lets you go, his fingers brushing against the exposed skin of your back as he gently pulls your shirt that had risen up back down, keeping you decent before his arm falls back into his own lap.

The brief touch sends goosebumps crawling up your skin, and you involuntarily shiver. You straighten your posture and tear your attention away from Matt’s wandering eyes, missing the small grin that tugs at the corners of his lips.

What you don’t miss is Talia staring at you, and as soon as you meet her gaze, her lips pull into a tight smile which you return back, grabbing your glass of Coke to distract yourself from what just happened.

“You. Nuh-uh—no way, kid. Put that down,” Nate points a finger at you and shakes his head with a tut. “We’re taking shots before we continue anythin’. You pick first.”

Reaching for one of the spilled shots that has the least amount of drink in it, you go for the easiest option. Nate’s mouth drops and his eyebrows knit together, as if you’ve just outwardly offended him, but he doesn’t say anything as he and the others quickly pick their own shots and clink their glasses together, eagerly downing the drinks.

You’re pleasantly surprised at the fruity taste that slides down your throat, but you can’t help but wince at the burn it leaves behind, similar to Nick, who starts to complain.

“What the fuck was that?!” Nick fake retches and rubs his throat, his other hand quickly reaching for his beer to wash down the taste. “What flavour was that—What did you fucking get?!”

“I dunno—a whole bunch of different shit,” Chris shrugs as he picks up Nick’s empty shot glass, taking a sniff. His eyebrows raise in surprise. “That’s passionfruit, kid. I had that too. We matched.”

“Oh, I hate it.” Nick gags again, bringing his beer bottle to his lips again to take a few hefty gulps, clearly trying to rid himself of the unpleasant taste.

“I think me and Matt had strawberry,” Talia announces, staring at the red stain on Matt’s chosen shot gloss. She grins, “We matched.”

Matt nods, then turns to you, “What did you have?”

“Raspberry,” Nate answers for you as he winks at you from across the booth, signifying you matched shots with him.

“Oh! So not only did I have a disgusting flavour, but I matched with Chris?” Nick scoffs, eyeballing every single one of you with irritancy. “Un-fucking-believable.”

“So, what brought you both here tonight?” Chris asks you and Talia after a few more drinks, courtesy of Talia who had promised to buy the next round.

Originally, the next drinks that were bought by Talia were supposed to be for just you, her and Matt. But with the others joining the table and their constant pleading, she ended up purchasing more than she had planned.

You feel bad, especially knowing how pricey this bar is, and make a mental note to pay for half of the drinks bought at the end of the night — even though Talia keeps giving you side glances, letting you know that everything is fine.

This is her favourite band after all, and she would do anything to spend a few more minutes with them… or even just Matt.

“Just to catch up over some drinks,” You tell him, glancing over at the stage where a few of their set pieces are still laid out. “We came to listen to your band too.”

“Yeah?” Chris grins, leaning back into his seat, his legs spreading wide beneath the table. “Are you a fan of our music?”

“I’m a huge fan,” Talia gushes, and you allow her to take the lead in the conversation. She leans forward, elbows on the table, causing her cleavage to almost spill out of the top of her dress in a deliberate gesture.

You admire Talia’s confidence, even though you want to tell her that she doesn’t need to try so hard to get their attention — she’s gorgeous as is.

Talia continues, “I’ve pretty much seen every single one of your shows here.”

“Have you been to any of our shows?” Matt asks, and it takes you a moment to realise that he’s talking to you, as everyone at the table is now staring and waiting for your reply. The corner of Matt’s lip curls upwards slightly as he tilts his head. “This your first time?”

“She’s never been,” Talia answers for you. “She doesn’t listen to this type of music. I practically had to force her out of her—”

“Is there something wrong with our music?” Nick asks you with mock offence, pressing his hand against his chest like you actually wounded him. Chris tuts with a shake of his head, making a joke about how much of a fake you are while Nate stays silent with a grin, watching everything unfold.

“No, nothing is wrong with your music,” You laugh softly. “I just really like the band ‘Solarz’.”

“You like Solarz?” Nick gapes at you, the mock offence look dropping from his face as his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. You nod your head to confirm, and he breathes out, “I think you might seriously be my favourite person ever.”

Nate and Chris laugh at that while Matt remains quiet with a small grin on his face, keeping his eyes locked. You start to feel a little stuffy and nervous, especially with how his body is pressed against yours. 

“Solarz is incredible,” Talia chimes in above the laughter, and you smile at her, grateful for the times she’s cleared her schedule to go to their concerts with you. You really do owe her. “Matt, do you like Solarz too?”

“I think they’re great,” Matt nods, his answer short and to the point. Talia smiles, but before she can speak again, Matt turns to you and asks, “Is this really your first time watchin’ us?”

“Yeah,” You nod, glancing over at Talia, who seems a little dejected. You don’t want to see her upset or left out, so you gesture towards her, hoping to bring Matt’s attention to her. “But, like Talia said, she’s a huge fan of y—”

“I think you should let me show you what’s backstage…” Matt cuts you off, leaning forward to whisper to you, even though his words are heard by everyone in the booth.

He stares at you through the strands of hair that have fallen in front of his eyes, waiting for your answer. You struggle to respond, feeling all eyes on you.

Talia is clearly not impressed by Matt’s sudden invitation to you. Her mouth is hung open in shock, and her eyebrows are pulled together in a clear expression of displeasure. You can’t blame her, given how she’s been trying to flirt with Matt this whole time, only for him to disregard her advances and ask you instead if you want to see what’s backstage. 

The phrase itself seems to hold a deeper meaning, based on the reactions of the others. Matt’s brothers and Nate all look quite shocked, some more smug than others, subtly nudging each other under the table. Chris even wiggles his eyebrows as he mouths the words ‘Matt Magic’ to Nick and Nate, the former gasping in response.

You feel conflicted as Matt’s hand slips into the gap between the table and your own, his palm facing upwards as he laces his fingers with yours. The warmth of his hand is a contrast to the cold metal of his rings, and you find yourself curling your fingers around his in a gentle grip. 

“What do you say?” Matt asks, his gaze unwavering as he looks at you. “Let me take you backstage. Just me and you, yeah? Come with me.”

You are aware of how stupid you must look right now, not speaking a word while the others are staring at you. You’re unsure of what to say, especially when a big part of you wants to decline for Talia’s sake — she’s the dedicated fan, and deserves this more than you do.

But another part of you is tempted by Matt’s invitation, drawn to him. The part wants nothing man that for you to grip his hand tighter and allow him to drag you wherever backstage.

You’ve always been unlucky with situations like these, always the one that’s left behind during hangouts at a bar while others had fun with boys or getting drunk — which, to be fair, is all on you. You never were the one to go home with some complete stranger or let yourself indulge in alcohol until you were able to function, it was never your thing. 

You nod your head just as Talia calls out your name, and your head immediately snaps in her direction, meeting her wide eyes with your own.

“Talia, I—” You start to say, but the words catch in your throat as Matt is already sliding out of the booth, his fingers tightening around yours and pulling you along with him.

You barely have time to react, hurriedly grabbing your purse as you’re whisked away from the group. You send an apologetic smile Talia’s way, wishing you could explain yourself to her, but the noises of Nate and Chris’s hollering and whooping drowns out any chance you have. 

You tighten your hand around Matt’s as he pulls you through the crowded bar, and you duck your head low to avoid the stares of strangers who watch you with him — wishing that they were in your position. It gives you a slight confidence boost, knowing that people are jealous of you, and you dwell on that feeling for a moment. 

Soon, Matt is leading you down a vacant hallway, heading towards a red door that reads ‘BACKSTAGE. STAFF AND BAND ACCESS ONLY’ in bold lettering.

“Here we go…” Matt mumbles under his breath as he pushes open the door, allowing you to walk in first.

The backstage area is a sight to behold. Fancy string lights hang from the ceiling, their bulbs flickering as Matt flips a switch to turn them on, bathing the room in a warm glow. The colour scheme is a combination of red and black — the walls are painted a blood red, adorned with various posters of bands, while a plush black carpet covers the floor, littered with instruments and clothing. 

Your eyes are immediately drawn to a pair of light blue panties thrown across the arm of a leather sofa, and Matt seems to follow your gaze.

“One of Chris’s girls was in here before the show; Zoe,” The name doesn’t ring any bells, but you nod anyway, watching as he unzips a backpack with Chris’s name on it and shoves the panties inside as he mumbles under his breath, “At least Nick fuckin’ cleans up after himself.”

“Cleans up?” You can’t help but ask, and Matt responds with a grin, gently kicking the backpack to the side, out of your curious gaze.

Your eyes scan the room, taking in the various items scattered about — a few zip lock bags on the glass coffee table, some filled with pre-rolled joints and others with just the marijuana.

“Chris and Nate,” Matt whispers in your ear, causing you to jump slightly at his sudden closeness. They like takin’ a hit before goin’ onstage, calms their nerves.”

You’re quiet for a moment, then ask, “What about you?”

“Sometimes, but not tonight” Matt moves to stand directly in front of you, his hand coming up to caress your cheek, his rings gliding gently over your skin as he meets your gaze. “You know the reason why I brought you here, right?”

“Apparently not just to see what’s backstage,” You respond with a lighthearted laugh, though you can’t deny the nervousness bubbling within you. You swallow thickly, your palms sweaty and clammy. “I don’t—I don’t do this type of thing.”

Matt hums, “Do what?”

You feel a surge of embarrassment as the heat rises up your neck, and you can’t bring yourself to look Matt in the eyes, instead focussing on the horse necklace hanging around his neck. You wish the ground would swallow you whole this moment.

Suddenly, Matt gently grasps your chin, using his fingers and thumb to tilt your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze once again. 

“Hey, if you’re uncomfortable, I can take you back out to the back right now,” Matt tells you, his tone sincere and honest. “Just say the word and we’ll leave — I’ll take you back to your friend and even call a cab for you to go home if you don’t want to stay.”

“That’s the thing…” You pause, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth as you grapple with your inner turmoil. “I do want to stay. You’re… you’re interesting.”

“Me? I’m interesting?” Matt can’t help but chuckle, a grin spreading across his face. “Sweetheart, it’s actually you that interested me. You caught my attention the moment I laid eyes on you. I’ve never seen you around before, and yet you make me feel like I’m goin’ crazy. I just—” He stops, voice huskier as he stares at you. “I want you so bad. I want to play with you.”

“Play?”

“Will you let me play with you?” Matt asks you sweetly despite the dark look in his eyes. “I can make you feel good… wanna make that pretty pussy of yours ready for me.”

You let out a shaky breath and nod your head, “Okay.”

You gasp as Matt instantly turns you around, your back now pressed to his chest with his lips grazing across your shoulder, his teeth nipping at the skin as his hands slowly slide down the strap of your purse, letting it drop to the floor with a thump.

Your heart beats wildly in your chest as his tentative touch, trying your best to steady your breathing as his fingers fiddle with the hem of your shirt, his knuckles brushing your sides as he lifts the shirt up, bringing it over your head and letting it pool to the floor.

Matt’s teeth snag at your earlobe and you crane your head to the side, allowing him to nip and suck at the area as much as he pleases, eliciting a satisfied hum from you. He pushes his hips forward, his bulge rutting against your lower back while his hands come down to rest at your hips.

You fight the urge to laugh when you feel his fingers drum a beat on your skin, a similar pattern to the one that was playing earlier when he was on stage performing, but the urge to laugh soon disappears when he bites down on the junction between your neck and shoulder, your knees almost buckling from shock if it wasn’t for the grip he tightened around you. 

“You’re so fuckin’ sensitive,” Matt murmurs against your skin, his tongue flattening over the area he bit down on. “Are you sensitive in other places too?”

“Matt…” You whisper his name when you feel his blunt fingernails dig into your hips to turn you around, his nose brushing over your own before he leans in to push his lips to yours for the first time.

The kiss is soft at first—a few second lip lock that causes your body to tingle with nerves that soon slip away when you feel the intensity grow, and your hands slide around his shoulders while his come up to cup the sides of your neck, his head tilting to the side as his tongue parts your lips.

You grip the hair at the nape of his neck to bring him as close to you as possible, and Matt follows, his body flush against yours with his hands secure around your neck, taking control of the passionate and heated kiss. 

It makes your head spin and lungs burn—desperate for air, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to part away from him so soon. His kiss is intoxicating. 

Matt breaks away from the kiss as he pants, “Need you–need you to—” He cuts himself off only to reconnect your lips, unable to finish his sentence until he has to force himself back. “Fuck—I need you to lie down f’me.”

You immediately drop down to the carpet with no further questions, not daring to lay across the sofa after seeing the underwear one of Chris’s girls had left behind on the arm of it. 

Matt drops down carefully to sit at your waist, his knees planted on either side of your hips. You watch as he takes off his oversized graphic shirt, messing up his hair even more than it already was as it’s tugged over his head.

You’re in complete awe at his body, your hands reaching out to trace the happy trail that leads down to his jeans, making your mouth water.

His horse chained necklace glides across your skin when he leans down to litter kisses across your body, paying extra attention to your breasts that he’s eager to rip free from your bra—he doesn’t even apologise once he tears the material.

Your head tips back with a gasp as his tongue rolls over your pebbled nipple before it’s sucked into his mouth, his teeth grazing against the sensitive bud which elicits a moan from you, unable to control the subtle twitches of your body.

“Pretty—fuckin’ pretty…” Matt praises, his tongue swirling around the opposite nipple as his fingers knead the plush skin of the other. “You’re so sensitive. So easy to play with.”

“Matt—”

“Shhh, sweetheart…” Matt shushes you as you moan a little too loudly, peering up at you through hooded lids as he pulls your jeans and panties down your legs, discarding them somewhere to the side as he pries open your thighs, his gaze flitting down to your glistening folds.

Your heart races as he stares at your pussy, feeling shy and too exposed. You debate on closing your legs so he couldn’t look anymore, or telling him to hurry up so you don’t feel hot under his gaze.

Matt moves down to lay between your legs, his mouth trailing kisses over the skin of your inner thighs. You almost lose yourself as his tongue presses between your folds, his nose rubbing against your throbbing clit that’s been begging for his attention.

“Matt…” You whisper out his name pathetically, your back arching off of the floor as his hands join, two fingers pushing through your entrance and curling, drawing out a long moan from you.

He’s sloppy with his tongue, licking you in all the right places that has your toes curling over his shoulders, and his fingers that fuck into you has you wailing. You’re loud now — too loud to the point Matt’s free hand moves up your body to press over your mouth, keeping your noises muffled by the palm of his hand.

Your cunt clenches around Matt’s fingers in desperation, and the vibrations of his satisfied hums sends your eyes rolling to the back of your head in pure bliss, unable to watch the mess of hair between your legs no more.

His fingers stroke your gummy walls, the cold metal of his rings (that he really should’ve taken off) sends shivers down your spine.

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” Matt compliments before his lips wrap around your clit, and you moan beneath his palm, your thighs shaking on either side of his head as he fingers you faster and harder — the wet, sloppy sounds of your cunt making you want to curl up in embarrassment, but your orgasm is rapidly approaching and you want nothing more than to come undone around his fingers. 

He repeatedly whispers praises and compliments as he continues his ministrations through your orgasm; his nose nudging your little bundle of nerves, leaving messy and sloppy kisses on your cunt, and his fingers curling to graze against the spot deep within which is enough to make you tear up, becoming far too sensitive.

You’re pushing him back with your foot, and Matt chuckles as he finally lets you go. He moves to kneel between your legs that have fallen from his shoulders, and he watches your chest rise and fall rapidly as you try to catch your breath.

“Doin’ so good for me, sweetheart.” Your heart warms at Matt’s praise, and you peel your eyes open just in time to see him bring his two fingers to his mouth, covered in your arousal. He keeps eye contact with you as he pushes the digits past his lips to suck them clear, and you find the sight unbelievably attractive. 

He pulls his fingers out of his mouth with a pop! before his hands drop down to the belt on his jeans, unbuckling with one hand and pulling it through the loops. He’s quick to get rid of the rest of his clothing, moving them out of the way with a hard shove so it wouldn’t cause any interruptions between you both.

Matt’s hand locks around your wrist to tug you upwards, forcing you to sit up, and your forehead almost knocks against his chest from the force.

His head dips low to kiss your lips softly before he orders you to turn around — to get on your hands and knees in front of him. You do as you’re told without question, flipping around onto your knees with your ass in the air and face resting against the plush carpet. 

“Shiiit… wish you could see yourself from this angle.” Matt curses, his fingers gripping the flesh of your ass, giving the skin a few hefty slaps. He moves forward on his knees, and his fingers wrap around his cock to tap the head against your puffy folds, collecting your arousal with a low groan.

“Please, Matt… Please.” You manage to pathetically plead out, and Matt nods with a hum. His tongue licks across his bottom lip before tucking it between his teeth, watching as he pushes his thick tip into your cunt.

Your eyes widen at the stretch—the burn—fully understanding how big he is even without seeing it for yourself. He stops for a few seconds to let out a shaky exhale, his hands rubbing at your hips as he feels you tremble beneath him. It sounds like he’s mocking you, but you pay no attention as you wiggle your ass back onto him, begging for him to move.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” Matt hisses through gritted teeth at the go ahead, and he moves his hand from your hips to your lower back, thrusting forward to push himself in deeper, bottoming out completely. 

A choked gasp rips from the back of your throat, your nails scraping across the carpet in search of anything to grasp onto to keep yourself grounded as Matt’s hips press against your ass, his cock buried deep within the warm of your walls. He’s panting while you’re unable to make a noise, mouth stuck open wide as Matt pulls his hips back before rolling them forward, thrusting back into you.

His deep strokes have you struggling to speak, wanting to let him know how good it feels as he’s angling his hips, hitting a particular spot inside of you that has you squealing, almost sending you flying forwards if it wasn’t for his grip.

“Easy, girl. I got you,” Matt laughs between grunts, his hips slapping against your ass. “Am I makin’ you feel good?”

“S’good.” Your words slur, mind too blank to come up with a functioning sentence. He laughs again before finding a good rhythm to work with—a rhythm that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, moving too fast for you to register.

“I’m gonna cum in this tight cunt of yours—fill you up. Gonna fill you up with my cum, make a fuckin’ mess.” The way his tone sounds and how he rambles his words indicate how close he is to cumming, and you’re not far behind.

You wish you could move back against him. You wish you could do more than just bend over with your ass in the air and take what he gives you. You want to make him feel good too, but you struggle to find your strength and your mind is too clouded with lust and pleasure to even begin to move.

You’re stuck as a moaning mess for Matt to use — not that you’re complaining.

The only thing you can do is tighten your cunt around his cock in hopes it will do something to make him feel as good as he’s making you feel, and he gives you one big thrust before he stills, his cock pumping long spurts of cum deep within your pussy as he hits his climax.

The feeling alone sets you off into your last orgasm of the night, your body tingling at the warmth that spreads through you. He’s panting heavily behind you, slowly rolling his hips to ride it out, and he grins when he feels your body convulsing.

Matt takes his time pulling out of you, stroking your lower back tenderly. Once you’re free, your body flops down to the carpet, the air knocking out of your lungs from the harsh impact, leaving you gasping for air as you try to regulate your erratic breathing.

You grimace a little when you feel Matt’s cum drip out of your pussy, making a sticky mess between your thighs and the carpet below you, knowing you’ll definitely have to go home after this and shower.

Mustering up enough of your strength, you try to turn your head to peer over your shoulder to see if Matt is okay, but a gasp fleets past your lips and your body stills when you feel Matt’s hands run up the backs of your thighs and to your ass, kneading your asscheeks before pulling them apart.

He leans down, leaving a kiss on your leaking pussy from behind. “Thank you for lettin’ me play with you.”

© sturnioz

[grimst4rs]

smart sirius black headcanons to balance out the other people who feel the need to dumb him down to make remus intelligent (both can be intellectually cultivated!)

really good at debating and, if the class piques his interest, he will debate with anyone about anything. his favourite person to debate with is lily evans; he likes watching her rile up

stem person. he’s particularly good at maths

made up a lot of the spells that were used in creating the marauders’ map (both he and james were into spell-making)

extremely good at writing essays; most of them tend to be quite a bit over the required length and bring a lot additional information

however, he prefers the practical approach, and he’s extremely skilled, especially in casting spells and apparition (he was the first in their year to apparate, after a few lessons)

reads as a hobby

extremely talented at wandless and nonverbal magic. he had it mastered a long time before he was taught it, and he surprised his charms and defence against the dark arts teacher with the ease wandless and nonverbal magic came to him

horace slughorn tried to recruit him into the slug club, but he declined (he found the idea boring and unappealing, especially being around members of the society he disliked)

a particularly skilled duellist, even when he moves with grace and elegance through the battlefield

experimented with runes (both tattoos and on his wand) and charmed his wand so that only he could use it if he placed his fingers on it a certain way

charmed his bike (he made it bigger than it was before) and he did the work to make it fly

highly developed critical thinking skills

great strategist

[catherinnn]

Marked

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Fem tattoo artist!reader warnings: SMUT (+18), p i v, unprotected sex (don't do this, this is fiction), breeding kink, Eddie has a pain kink, masochism? idk they're both pretty freaky, no descriptions of body, race, or anything more than afab reader. words: 2.6k masterlist

He's sat in the reclining chair explaining where he wants the tattoos. Signalling one on the side of his hip, just above his jeans. And the other on his right pectoral.

You sit in front of him, reclining his chair so was almost laying down. "Okay, take your shirt off, please"

He complies, laying back on the chair, exited to get started as you put your gloves on.

"Are you comfy?" you check.

"Yeah, real good"

"Great" you grab the gel first and put some on the side of his tummy, right above the pants. And gently massage to move it all around the area, peeking subtly at his toned torso.

"See something you like, sweetheart?" he teases me.

"You’re making me tattoo you here, I have to look" you defend yourself. You grab the stencil and place it where he indicated, you press gently to make sure it transfers.

"You like it there?" you ask one last time just to make sure and after he says it's positive, you grab the tattoo gun and fill the tip with ink. "Ready?"

"Totally" he smirks and you start the job.

He lets out a sharp breath as he feels the needle pierce into his skin, wincing slightly at the initial stinging pain. But he keeps his eyes fixed on you, watching your focused expression as you begin working on the tattoo.

"Is that good? Doesn’t hurt too much, right?" you check on him.

"It's okay, I can handle it"

Your face is close to his hip as you put all of your attention on the needle, trying to ignore his occasional groans or the way his muscles flex and ripple from the pain every now and then.

"We can take a break whenever you need" you remind him.

"Nah doll, I'm good for now"

"But tell me if you need it. I have all night just for you"

"I'll tell you if it becomes too much" he assures you.

"Good boy" you comment and he rolls his eyes at the teasing.

You continue on the tattoo until you’re halfway done, since he asks you to let him take a breath for a second.

You leave the gun at the table and stroke his tummy around his tattoo, softly.

"Your hands are magic" he says.

You chuckle before lowering to blow some fresh air into the slightly redden skin.

"Mmh that feels good" he almost shivers.

"Yeah?" you mumble.

His hand lowers to rest on your head. "Yeah, doll"

You look up at him as you start leaving some pecks around the area.

His eyes widen slightly at my gaze, and his muscles tense involuntarily as you kiss around the area of his fresh tattoo. He lets out a low, guttural moan, his eyes darkening with desire.

"Does that help?" you ask innocently.

"Oh yeah, it's working" he smirks knowing damn well what you’re doing.

He gently caresses your face with his rough, calloused hand, his fingers tracing the contour of your jaw. His eyes fixed on yours, his expression a mixture of desire and affection. He swallows hard, trying to keep his composure, but his body betrays his feelings. "You're really testing my limits, doll"

"Just wanna make you feel better" you shrug acting innocent. "Plus, we still have some time before us. I have to finish both tattoos, and then I can kiss them better"

"Yeah? You're gonna kiss them all better? I'm gonna be your canvas then, baby"

"Yeah? I could even tattoo my name into your skin?" you ask teasingly.

His eyes darken at the thought of having your name permanently etched into his skin. He nods. "Yeah, doll. Even that. You can mark me as yours"

"Don't temp me" you smirk.

"I'm practically begging you" he says still stroking your face with his hand. You suck on his thumb.

He gasps as he feels your lips around it. "You're gonna drive me crazy if you keep this up"

"We still have a few hours ahead of us. Should I keep going now?"

"Yeah, go ahead"

You grab the gun and continue on the tattoo. He closes his eyes as he feels it again, the pain blending with pleasure. Only more fuelled by the fact that you’re the one creating it. His eyes focused on you. "You really know how to make a man suffer" he jokes and you chuckle at that. "You're enjoying this, aren't you? Making me squirm and suffer"

"I'm almost done with this one" you let him know.

After you finish it, you clean it up so he can admire the total work. "Check it out"

He sits up and looks down at the tattoo, his eyes widening as he takes in the design. He runs his fingers over the ink, feeling the slight raised skin where the needle dug into his body. "Damn, doll. It looks incredible. You’re really incredible at this”

You cover it with the wrap to protect it. "Should we start with the other one?"

"Alright, yeah" he grins.

You accommodate the chair so he's sitting more upright. "Over here, right?" You check again before putting the gel on.

"Yup, right there, sweetheart"

You repeat the process of gel and placing the stencil right where he wants it.

"I was thinking... that to do this one and be comfy, I could..." you say as you sit on his lap facing him. His hands automatically go to rest on your hips. "I could sit here so I can have a better look, we want this tattoo to be as good as possible, right?" you ask acting innocently.

He smirks, hands tightening the grip. "Yeah, makes sense, princess. We want it to look good" he plays along.

"Fuck" he mumbles as you shift to sit comfier. "You’re making it hard to concentrate"

"Well, try to, because we still have to do this tattoo"

"Yeah, just stop squirming so much, sweetheart. You’ll make it hard for the both of us"

"Yeah, I can feel how hard it is for you" you grin feeling his hard-on right on your thigh.

"It's your fault" he laughs and you kiss his cheek before starting the tattoo on his chest.

You pierce his skin with the needle of the gun. He flinches at the initial string. But the feeling of your body on top of his mixed with the sensation of the needle is strangely arousing. "It hurts but in a really good way, it feels so good"

"Fuck Eddie" you whisper as he really is making this harder.

"Keep saying my name, baby" he teases you. It takes everything in him to not move you even closer to him.

"Stop it, I don't wanna mess it up" you complain. It's both funny and concerning how his mind is completely somewhere else and he cannot take this serious right now because of you.

"Right, gotta stay focused" he shakes his head trying to concentrate. He tries to maintain his composure as you continue working on the tattoo, his focus shifting between the pain of the needle and the feeling of your legs around him. The heat in his cock is growing, his pants getting tighter by the second.

He can't help but groan, his eyes darkening because of a particular spot where the needle pierces really close to his bone, it's where it hurts more —meaning: where he most likes it.

"Stop, Eddie" you complain.

"I need you now, doll"

"Baby, I'm gonna mess it up, stay still for me"

"It's impossible, you're killing me here"

"It's just a few minutes more, this one is smaller"

"Okay, okay" he takes a deep breath, willing himself to stay still.

He tries to focus on anything but the way your body is pressed against his, or the look on your face as you concentrate. He can feel himself growing harder, but he tries to resist, not wanting to distract you.

"I'm almost done" you say after a while. He just nods, waiting patiently now. "Focus on the pain. How does it feel?" you tease him.

"It hurts so good" he groans.

"Yeah? Makes you feel good?"

"Shit, yeah"

"I can feel how much you like the pain" you chuckle.

"Mmh, I do" he presses you down harder. "Shit, doll"

"Patience, baby" you remind him. His hands move to your ass, as he squeezes it just to keep him occupied.

"Fuck" he keeps cursing and moving you.

"Edward" you warn him.

"Yeah, doll, say my name again"

"Is everything turning you on right now?" you can't help but laugh.

He laughs breathlessly. "Everything about you is"

"I'm almost done" you remind him.

The instant you finish with the tattoo, Eddie's hands are on you, pulling you against him, his lips finding yours in a hungry, desperate kiss. He's lost all control, all pretense of restraint gone as his body takes over.

"Mmph" you moan as he kisses you deeply, his tongue sliding into your mouth as his hands grip your hips, pulling you closer onto his lap. "Wait, baby-"

He doesn't wait, his lips continuing to move over yours. He pulls you closer, his hands roaming over your body, wanting, needing more of you. The taste of you, the feel of you in his arms, is all consuming.

"I have to clean you up" you say against his lips.

"I don't care" he groans. You just chuckle as you wrap your arms around his neck.

His kisses move down to your neck. "Need to feel you, princess"

"Take my clothes off" you order and he quickly moves to oblige, his hands immediately going to the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head to then move to take your bra off as well.

"You're so fucking beautiful" he moans.

"Yeah, baby?" you tease him as you take his belt off. He kisses your breasts as you fight with his pants.

"You're all mine" he mumbles against your skin.

"Am I?" you keep teasing. "But you have to be all mine then"

He just nods repeatedly as he kisses your nipple.

"Then I could sign your skin" you joke.

His body shudders. "Mark me up doll, it’s yours"

"Want me to write my pretty name into your skin?"

He groans lowly, his hands gripping your hips tighter at the thought of it. "Mmm, yes, please"

You wrap your hand around his neck, bringing him back to your lips. He kisses you hungry, hands roam all over your body.

You tighten the hold of his neck.

He groans louder, his cock jumping in his pants. "That feels fucking good"

"I think I like causing you pain" you confess against his lips. Thinking about putting the needle on his skin as he flinches, and the way he would breathe harder as you choke him lightly.

"Hurt me all you want" he moans.

"I'm so so wet for you, baby" you say to his ear.

He presses you harder on him, so you feel his hardness pressing against his jeans. "I need you right fucking now"

You finally lower his pants with his boxers. You rise your skirt up and move your panties to the side. You place him on your entrance, sinking down on his cock once and for all.

"Fuck... yes" he sighs, closing his eyes and throwing his head back.

"Oh Eddie" you moan as you start to move back and forth.

"You feel so fucking good. Just like that, ride me just like that" he grips your hips tighter. "Use me all you need"

"Oh babyy" you cry.

His hands stay on your hips and ass, helping you move faster. He leaves a trail of hot burning kisses on your collarbone.

He focuses on the way your tits bounce as you jump on his cock, your tiny gasps and moans every time your skins hit with other, your brows going up and your eyes rolling back. It's everything Eddie can focus on, —that, and the way you feel wrapped around his dick— and he feels the need to keep this view forever.

"Fuck Eddie" you moan as he slaps your ass.

"You feel too fucking good. I don't think I could ever get enough of you, sweetheart" he says against your ear.

"Shit," you pull on his hair tighter. "You look so pretty with your new tattoos"

"Yeah? You like them, doll?"

"You look so so good"

"You're one to talk" he smirks breathless as he keeps pounding into you, bouncing you on his dick.

His hair is a mess, his lips are slightly open letting out groans and curses, his grip on your ass is so firm that you wouldn't be surprised if he leaves marks, his chest shining with a sheet of sweat making his brand new tattoo even prettier, his neck shows some veins and it vibrates every time he lets a moan out, his doe eyes somehow even more adorable as he looks at you, admiring you as you are him.

After leaving some very necessary marks on his neck, you move up to his lips that were calling you.

Your kiss is messy but somehow hotter.

One of his hands moves in between you two to press and rub your puffy clit that was rubbing against his pubic hair seconds before.

"Oh, I'm-" you moan but you can't even finish the sentence.

"You're gonna cum, princess?" he teases you.

"I'm cumming!"

"Cum for me, cream my cock" he moans and you obey him, arching your back like a cat and crying his name as you feel the pleasure take over your whole body.

"That’s it, that's good baby" he holds you as his moves are messier now. He sees the white ring that formed around his cock from your arousal and that's enough to make him feel over the edge. "I'm gonna cum, baby. Can I cum inside you? Please"

"Fill me up, baby" you say weekly in his ear and that makes him bust his load with a loud groan of your name in between some curses.

His head throws back, resting on the chair. Your head resting on his shoulder. You feel him softening inside you but neither of you can move yet. You stay in your own mess as you try to catch your breaths.

Eddie is the first to snap out of it, he picks up the wipes you conveniently had on your desk right next to you. They were actually meant to clean his tattoos up, but you got busier.

Firstly, he slightly moves you to remove himself from you. Then, he cleans you up slowly and delicately.

"It's funny that you're so careful now" you chuckle.

He smirks and leaves a good kiss on your forehead.

"I still have to clean you up" you say referring to his tattoo. He just nods and lets you take care of it like you did with the other one. "All good"

"Thank you, baby"

"As comfy as I am here, and I'm very fucking comfy, we can't stay here all night" you explain as you still have close the studio up.

"Right, no, of course" he notices.

You start getting dressed and tidying everything up. He had already paid before the session so that was already covered.

"Ready" you say after closing up. You stand uncomfortably at the door of the studio.

"Good... hey, you wanna- maybe come to my house and we can order some food and watch a movie or something?" Eddie proposes nervously. It was weird how you always made him so nervous, never those models or actresses he meets, only you had that power over him.

"Sure, I'd love to" you smile.

dividers by: @saradika-graphics

tag to @mediocredreams cause she was excited to read this ♡

[hotluncheddie]

eddie, steve

.🥞✨

‘uh, the pancakes with bacon please, extra syrup? thanks.’

eddie knows that order. he makes it every saturday night, so late it’s almost morning.

but he’s never heard that voice before, never heard it so close, right by the pass window.

he swallows. turning from the sink in the back to face out into the diner, someone’s sat at the counter, right across from him.

the most beautiful boy eddie’s ever seen.

he’s looking right at eddie, cheeks slightly pink, fiddling with a still wrapped straw. he looks perfect and cozy and adorable, hair sleep rumpled and in a hoodie that swallows up his soft lines, making him look even softer.

‘coming right up.’ eddie rasps, his own cheeks colouring.

but the boy, he smiles. ducks his head, looks up at eddie through his lashes.

eddie’s a fucking goner.

-

steve can’t believe it. his eyes are even bigger this close up, big and brown and sparkling with life.

his hands are just as nice this close up too, delicate but capable as they move around where steve can see. he sticks his tongue out a little when he concentrates. it’s adorable.

he’s the prettiest guy steve’s ever seen.

he puts steves finished pancakes in the window with a little smile, rings the bell and seems to blush even harder. almost cringing at the sound. it’s makes steve laugh, he’s cute.

and they’re still the best pancakes the midwest has to offer, at denny’s, at 3am. even sober and nervous and exited like he is.

steve can’t help closing his eyes like always when he takes his first bite. always blown away by their sweet fluffy texture. and he makes his way through them a little quicker than normal, without robin to distract him.

they taste as good as normal but he’s right there. right there watching steve eat them. something about it makes him feel shy, barely daring to look up from his plate. but when he does the line cook has the softest smile on his face and steve relaxes, tucks his hand under his hoodie to rest on his stomach like normal. finished his pancakes.

when steve looks up again, the guy is staring at his empty plate, kind of stuck in space. but then he vanished for a moment and the door to the kitchen opens. and he’s coming over, picking up the syrupy plate and he has freckles, bats tattooed on his arm.

he’s so close. he’s so pretty this close.

the prettiest guy steve’s ever seen.

‘eddie?’ steve blurts, exited, finally able to read his name tag. his names eddie.

his name is eddie.

eddie’s cheeks get pink, the tips of his ears. he looks at steve with wide eyes ‘yeah?’ he asks, voice small and confused.

steve grins at him. ‘your names eddie.’ and he watched eddie’s smile bloom, he has dimples.

‘wha’ eddie clears his throat. ‘what’s yours?’ and steve feels his heart burst, feels like sunshine and crisp leaves.

‘steve.’ he says, a little breathless.

‘steve.’ eddie whispers.

‘when do you go on break?’ steve asks, heart beating in his throat.

eddie just shrugs, eyes still wide. ‘whenever. as long as there’s no customers in.’ and steve realises he’s the only one here. it makes him blush more, for some reason.

‘make us another batch?’ he asks, deciding to be brave, leaning over the counter, just to be a little closer. ‘we can share.’ and it’s so worth it. to see the smile grow on eddie’s face, watch him nod, watch a curl slip out of his bun. watch him work his magic through that little pass window. stealing glances at steve as he goes.

-

watching steve enjoy his food is even better close up. even better than eddie could’ve imagined.

they’re sitting in steve’s usual booth, eddie’s where robin normally sits, he finally has a name for the cool girl steve hangs out with. gets to hear a little about how they met, can tell he loves her, so much. it’s sweet, his eyes shining as he talks.

so is the way steve cuts the pancakes, sweet, pushing perfectly stacked mouthfuls towards eddie to have. pancake, bacon, pancake. all covered in syrup, sticky and delicious.

eddie never really even liked pancakes much, more of a waffle guy. but sitting here, watching steve eat them, laughing and smiling at things eddie says. jaw just a little soft, upper lip smattered with hair. watching steve sigh and stretch when they’re done. that hand coming to rest on his stomach again, the way it always does, every saturday night.

eddie knows he’ll always love pancakes.

-

‘how do you get them to be so good?’ steve asks, hand circling eddie’s wrist loosely, stopping him before he goes back to his job, an orders come in, he has to go. but steve needs to ask, wants to know. wants one more moment with him.

eddie smiles, takes steve’s hand and kisses the back of it. and it’s so out of place, at denny’s, at 4 am that steve giggles, almost manic. it’s the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to him.

‘they’re made with love sweetheart.’ eddie says, looking up at him from his bow, kissing his hand again before walking away. the napkin with steve’s number on tucked safely in his back pocket.

steve’s forearm scrawled in the black ink of eddie’s own.

steve goes home and falls straight to sleep. so late its almost morning, like every saturday night.

he dreams of brown eyes, and syrup.

<3

fin.

ty for reading! mwah!

@xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @spectrum-spectre @stevesbipanic @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @acedorerryn @scoops-aboy86

[onelittlespiral]

I’ve been looking for a fraternity to join at my new college, but none of them have really been letting me in. The only one left seems to be full of horny jocks that are dumber than a bag of bricks. Think you could help me… fit in?

FML: In

As you laid it all out in front of your friend, your plans, your goals, your desires, he just kind of shook his head in disbelief:

“I know that I’ve only known you for a few weeks, but damn that’s disappointing.”

“What’s so wrong about wanting to pledge?” you replied, “It would just make getting connected the university so much easier. Plus, the parties are legendary.”

“No I get it,” he scowled, “but really? Pi Kappa Epsilon?”

“Listen, they weren’t my first choice either. I would have preferred a group a little less… dim.” I knew he wouldn’t leave it there.

“Dim? Dim still implies some light on upstairs. You can just call them what they are: brainless frat bros. They think with their dicks and muscle their way through academics. I can’t believe you’re asking me to use my power for this.” He began walking towards the door.

I called after, “Look, I’ve seen you do crazier shit than this. You turned the guy upstairs into a dog for a week.”

He stopped in the door frame for a minute to chuckle, “If he was going to call the RA a bitch he may as well get first hand experience.”

“Please dude.” I stared at him.

After a moment he relented, “Fine. But are you sure you want this? You want to change for this? A frat?”

“Yes. And I promise I’ll get you into any party you want!”

“Fine. Give me a bit. But remember, you asked for it.”

He returned in a bit and tossed me a necklace from across the room, “Here’s your frat solution. Wear this to your next thing with them at their house.”

You inspected it. It looked like a basic chain necklace like you had seen other guys wear around “And do what? What does it do?”

He rolled his eyes, “And do nothing. It will help you fit into the frat, I promise.”

“No magic words or anything?” I asked.

He grinned, “Oh come on, think of me as better than needing all that crap. Now put it on so you don’t lose it.”

It fits well around your neck, “I’m headed over there tonight, I think it is the last event before they drop everyone. You sure this will work?”

“Trust me,” he says, “You want in the frat? You will be in the frat.”

When you arrive at the frat house, you do feel the necklace almost pulling you inside. It feels warm against your chest as you wander around, talking with some brothers and checking in with your fellow pledges. You get a sense of magnetism from it, like the necklace is pulling the frat house around it towards you. As the party kicks into gear, you focus less on the chain and more on socializing. But whatever it’s effect, it seems to be working. Brothers and other pledges are seeming to stumble over themselves trying to talk with you. Even the pledge master gives a knowing glance and tilts his head in approval. In a little under two hours, you begin to feel more at home in the house, more comfortable in the crowd. Maybe for the first time you feel a sense of brotherhood. So it is a shock when you step into the bathroom to take a piss and take a look in the mirror.

You don’t recognize the face that stared back. You blinked in confusion, assuming you had too much to drink. But no. The stranger in the mirror stared back into your eyes, copying your every move as you tilted your head and inspected your face in awe. The trance broke as you glanced down and saw the truth. Your polo shirt stretched against your chest as two pectorals firmly pushed out, flexing with each breath. Your pants had grown tight around my quads, now a good few inches short. They hugged your ass so tightly you were surprised they hadn’t ripped. Tattoos flowed down your arms, newly ripped and well toned. You noticed for the first time the power you felt coursing through your veins. You could almost feel your skin taut against your muscles as they slowly swelled. You pulled your top off to get a better look at the action.

‘Damn I look good’ you think as you admire the new cum gutters and still developing 6-pack. You try out a few poses in the mirror, just to see the muscles move. The necklace is no joke. No way PKE would drop you now, you looked like you fit right in. But, at the same time, you figured it may be time to get the necklace off. You didn’t want to change too much, and no telling how far it would go. You go for the back of your neck and and start to fiddle with the clasp when the necklace suddenly starts to warm up.

You feel the odd magnetism is no longer subtle. It feels as though the necklace is pulling against the frat house you, drawing it’s very essence towards you. At the same time, the growth within your body stops as the necklace channels all its energy towards your head. The sudden spike hits like a migraine, as you let go of the necklace and go to hold your temples. The necklace wants to finish its work. Your senses are sharpened to a point, as you feel the heat of the bros downstairs, taste cheap beer and seltzers, hear every footstep, see every muscle and bulge, and smell 100 horny men all at once. You feel the pure energy of the fraternity pull through your body as it shapes you. Beneath the pressure, your mind buckles as false memories push their way in. Memories of watching college football on TV. Working out during the summer to become a fucking stud. Playing the field as soon as you got to college. Meeting up with some brothers to get a foot in the door. Getting called a fuckboi for the first time on Tinder. Wearing it like a badge of pride.

Your brain throbbed as the energy reshaped your memories and personality, but your balls churned as it began to adjust your libido. They ached as they swelled to the size of golf balls. Your cock was rigid at attention as you grabbed it with both meaty hands and started to pump. Your body writhed as every stroke only makes the pleasure more intense. You are soon hot with the effort. An aura of testosterone and sweat formed around you as a frat funk sets in deep: a mixture of booze, yesterday’s workout, and cheap cologne. The smell only drives you more wild, and you start to feel your brain short circuit. Your mind, consumed by pleasure, gave into the pressure and lost any remaining will to resist. The necklace pulsed in time with your throbbing cock as it buried the old you. As you reached climax, you knew there was no going back. As you shot your load across the room, a new you was released. A dumb, horny frat bro ready to pledge PKE.

And then the door behind you opened.

The pledge master, apparently worried by how long you had been in here, walked in on your afterglow as you tucked your cock back into your pants.

“Hey man, you okay?” he asked before recoiling a step. You watched as he smelled your rank funk and nearly gagged. You took a step closer.

“Yeah bro, better than ever. What about you? You look like you’re about to vomit.” you said, leaning in a bit closer. You flex your muscles and let your pit stench join the lingering cloud. You feel yourself start to harden again as he tried not to react.

“Bro, you are fucking rank. You smell like a… like a-”

“Like a frat house should?” you taunted. He had stopped recoiling and seemed now to be fighting a different urge.

“I don’t know bro, you should get- get that looked at.”

His eyes were focused on your muscles as you slowly flexed them rhythmically to the music downstairs. I felt the necklace pulling him closer as he fought the urges he is having. Fuck, you remembered that feeling, that pull towards desire. You knew how to help him out though. You grabbed the back of his head and pulled his lips to your pecs. As his lips connected with your flesh and tasted the beads of sweat that rolled down your chest, he wrapped his arms around you and began worshiping your muscles. As he kissed and licked every inch of your chest and washboard abs, he gently rubbed against your rigid cock. It wasn’t long before he was licking at the fabric separating his mouth from his prize. But as he reached for the elastic band around your waist, you grabbed his hair and pulled him up.

Your mind reveled in in the power you held in your hands and the pleasure your new frat bro could cause with his mouth. But you only had one thing left on you mind:

“I wanna be in the frat bro.” You said.

He mumbled as his mouth still searched for your flesh, “Yeah man, sure thing. I’ll make it happen. You can be a frat bro. Just please let me suck on your-“

“No,” you boomed. You pulled him out of the bathroom and into the nearest bedroom, locking the door behind you. You grabbed his ass as he grew limp in your hands, “I want to be in the frat bro.” You slip your hand beneath his gym shorts and begin slowly finger fucking his tight, straight hole.

He understood his place as he slipped off his shorts and underwear, leaving his cheeks on full display.

He moaned like he was in heat, “Yeah bro. Please. I would be so honored.”

You bent him over and spat in his quivering hole before you pressed your cock against him. You didn’t wait for him to relax as you slammed your cock as deep as you could and watched him yelp in surprise. As you slowly sped up and heard him start to moan, you felt the necklace once again start to warm against my chest as its power flowed through your cock and into the bro beneath you. He too began to sweat with the funk of the frat as was remade in its image under your guidance. He was going to become just as unified with PKE as you were.

[luvnanako]

Waking up next to Vi

Vi x Reader (wlw, fluff)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Intro

Hiii thank you sooo much for all the love on my last post !! I appreciate it sooo much it means the world to me, I hope you enjoy this one as well 𖹭

--------︶ ⏝ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ⏝ ︶---------

As the first rays of sunlight filter through the curtains, you slowly open your eyes, finally ready to wake up after what felt like an endless night. The world around you is still quiet, the soft hum of morning just beginning to stir. As your vision adjusts, you catch a glimpse of the woman lying next to you, her peaceful expression framed by the golden light of dawn. She’s sleeping soundly, her chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm, her hair adorably messy from the night’s rest. A soft smile tugs at your lips as your eyes trace the delicate freckles scattered across her nose bridge, glowing faintly in the morning light.

Completely caught in the moment, you find yourself unable to look away. Minutes pass as you simply lie there, drinking in the sight of her serenity, each second filling your heart with warmth and quiet joy. Smiling to yourself, you marvel at how lucky you are to share this space, this moment, with her. For now, the world can wait—there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

With a gentle slide of your finger, you brush a strand of Vi’s hair out of her face, revealing her puffy cheeks in full view. You can’t help but smile at how utterly adorable she looks, her face relaxed in deep sleep. A part of you is tempted—aching, really—to cover her cheeks in soft kisses, to shower her with affection until she wakes. But you hold yourself back, not wanting to disturb your sleeping princess just yet.

Your gaze shifts to her lips, lingering on the scar that cuts across them. There’s something about it that makes her baby face impossibly alluring, adding an edge to her softness that you can never resist. Kissing her scar is like touching heaven, a sensation that never loses its magic, no matter how many times you do it. The thought alone fills you with warmth, but before you can linger too long in your daydreams, Vi stirs beside you, mumbling something incomprehensible in her sleep.

“Mnm…” she grunts softly, her voice thick with drowsiness. You can’t help but chuckle at her little morning sounds, finding them endearing beyond words. Gently, you press the back of your fingers against her cheek, sliding them slowly across her soft skin until they come to rest on the inked lines of her tattoo. In that tender moment, you feel her hand tighten around your waist, a silent reassurance that even in sleep, she’s holding onto you.

You let out a content sigh, feeling your heart swell with love for this woman who’s become your entire world.

Vi shifts closer, pressing her nose against your chest with determination, her arms tightening around you so you can’t even think about moving. “Sleep… more…” she whispers, her voice soft and barely audible, still heavy with sleep. Mornings like these always brought out her clingy and cuddly side, something you secretly adored.

“Babe…” you whisper back, slipping your fingers into her messy hair. The effect is immediate—her body visibly relaxes, and a content sigh escapes her lips. This was her weakness, not the thrill of a pit fight against the toughest opponents or indulging in a hearty meal after a grueling day, but your hands in her hair. If she could, Vi would spend days and nights just like this, soaking up your touch.

Her hand slides down to rest on your hip, her thumb brushing against your skin as if savoring every second of this intimacy. You can’t help but giggle at her baby-like behavior, a sound that earns you an instant pout.

“Cupcake… stop laughingggg…” she whines, her voice dragging with mock irritation.

“I’m not laughing,” you reply, teasingly flicking her forehead with a smirk. “I’m just admiring you, dummy.”

“Heyy!” she protests, her pout intensifying, her expression so soft and endearing that it’s hard to take her seriously. “Have a little respect for your hardworking girlfriend!” Despite her words, her lips curl into a grin, still pressed against your chest.

“Oh, I do, babe,” you say, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on her lips, followed by another on her forehead. You watch as her cheeks flush into a sweet shade of pink, and your heart swells at how effortlessly beautiful she looks.

“Are you free today?” she murmurs, her voice tinged with hope.

“Mhm,” you hum in response.

“I can finally spend the day with the love of my life.” Her lips spread into a cheeky grin. “Aaaand stay in bed with you,” she adds playfully.

You roll your eyes with a smirk. “Gosh, you’re so lazy, babe.”

“I can’t help it if I have my own personal heating teddy bear,” she teases, letting out a soft chuckle before pressing a wet kiss against your collarbone, the sensation almost like a playful lick.

“Viiiiiiiiii,” you pout, squirming slightly under her clingy affection.

“Mine,” she declares, her voice low and possessive, as she closes her eyes and peppers your chest and collarbone with playful kisses. You laugh softly, the sound only encouraging her antics.

“Okay, babe, it’s time to get up,” you say, gently nudging her.

“Nooooooooo,” she groans dramatically, her voice now raspy and thick with sleep.

“It’s already 9 a.m.,” you point out, glancing at the clock.

“So whattt,” she mumbles stubbornly. “I’m tired… now shush, I’m going back to sleep.”

With that, she wraps her strong arms tighter around your waist and buries her face into the crook of your neck. Before you can respond, she leaves a tiny kiss on your skin, so light it feels like a feather brushing against you.

“I love you, cupcake,” she whispers, her words melting into the stillness of the morning.

“I love you too, Vi,” you reply softly, your hand gently stroking her hair as she snuggles even closer, her warmth and affection making it impossible to argue with her desire to stay in bed just a little longer.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you so much for reading !! 𖹭

[dark-moonlust]

Caught Between the Fae

This is a Patreon commission I finished yesterday. The commissioner chose to remain anonymous. I hope you enjoy this small story! It was so enjoyable to write and it's super steamy, too! I love every part of it 🖤

Pairing: 2 fae males (Nestor, Quin) x f!human (Layla)

Summary: Layla is a photographer in her mid-30s. During her exhibition event, two fae males, Nestor and Quinn, are drawn to one of her paintings and her beauty. They recognize her as their mate and quarrel over who will get Layla and her artwork. Finally, they decide to share her as she belongs to them both. They claim her as their mate and go into a mating rage, driving deep inside her and marking her with their cum.

Warnings: minors don’t interact, 18+!!, fingering, oral(female+male receiving), kinky talk, a little bondage, big 🍆, fae magic to fit, p in v sex, anal, double penetratiοn, lots of 💦.

Tonight was her big night. 

Layla took yet another deep breath and strolled through the art gallery. Her heart thundered with excitement and a little fear. That night, her photography was the star of the show. All her pieces were there for all to see and judge. She truly hoped the people would admire and grasp the feelings and meanings behind each photo. Her work was her pride and joy.

As she walked the sleek gallery, the room was a whirl of positive reviews and the clinking of champagne glasses. The people liked her work! Feeling her anxiety lessen, she smiled, soaking in the energy as she mingled with the guests. She let herself enjoy the vibes, her soft curvy frame moving gracefully through the crowd, her fiery red hair catching the light, making her green eyes gleam with pride. 

Taking a short break, she stood near the center of the room and tried to calm her raging heart. The gallery was a big hit and a dream come true! She still couldn’t believe it. She wanted to jump and laugh out of joy. As she scanned the faces of the audience, her gaze stopped on two striking men in front of her favorite piece: a photo of a moonlit beach at night. They were boldly gazing at her piece and then her way. 

A jolt traveled through her. Their gazes practically saw through her. 

Tall and towering, they were both, with pointy ears and supernatural auras exuding such intense power that caused her whole body to come alive and warm up as if licked by fire.

They were fae... what otherwordly beauty.

The one on the left had close-cropped blonde hair, deep purple eyes, and although he wore a sleek black suit, she could see his neck and hands, which were filled with tattoos that surely filled the rest of his body. The other male beside him was all dark and sensual mischief. He had long, curly, dark hair and ice-blue eyes that sparkled with a devil-may-care attitude.

They were attracting the eyes of everyone in the room; their presence electrifying.

From across the room, Nestor, the King of the Court of Nightmares, stood in front of Layla’s photo, his deep purple eyes drawn to every detail of the mounted piece. The gallery lights cast the perfect light, illuminating the moonlight beach. His fingers tightened around his glass as he swirled the dark liquid inside. Beside him, Quinn admired the same photo, his ice-blue eyes attracted to the art and the artist herself. He was the Emperor of the Court of Chaos. 

“Stunning,” Nestor murmured in a low mumble, scanning the room, his gaze finding Layla and staying on her. “They shall be mine. Both the piece and the artist.”

Quinn chuckled, his eyes equally intent on the female. “You wish. You don’t have what it takes to appreciate them both.”

“And you do?” Nestor’s voice was higher than usual, turning heads. “Thinking too high of yourself, aren’t you?”

“This art piece belongs in my court, and little fireheart in my bed.”

“Fireheart…” Nestor whispered, his eyes tracing the fire-colored hair of his mate, the soft and curvy frame he hungered to have exposed beneath him. “I’ll never let you have them. She’s my fated one and the Queen of the Court of Nightmares.”

Quinn’s laugh was light and mocking. “I’ll bid whatever the hell you want. She’s my mate, the Empress of Chaos Court. She will be mine.”

“You? I don’t think so. I want her and that piece, and I’ll have them,” Nestor stated, his voice hard with authority. “You’d better wet your dick elsewhere.”

Quinn’s lips curled at his words. “I’ll wet my dick inside her, in every warm little place inside her.” The Emperor of Chaos stared at his mate, their gazes meeting and holding. She was gorgeous. In every way. Her red hair cascaded in soft waves over her shoulders, and her green eyes sparkled with passion. He wanted her. He’d never back down. 

“She is mine.” Nestor’s eyes flicked to the other fae. “The moment I saw her, I knew she was my fated one.”

“And you think I didn’t feel the same?” Quinn spat back, with a hint of annoyance. Long moments passed before he added, “Perhaps there’s a reason we both recognize her so strongly.”

Nestor narrowed his eyes at him. “What are you implying?”

“Fate doesn’t make mistakes,” Quinn answered. “She belongs to both of us.”

“This makes sense…” Nestor trailed off, clearly considering the proposal. 

Quinn chuckled warmly. “Finally, we agree on something. So, what do we do about it?”

“We claim her. Every part of her.”

It was that moment when Layla decided to approach them. She closed in on them, and they immediately framed her luscious body with their possessive, towering bodies on both sides. Layla felt hot all over, her frame shivering from the intensity of their aura and their mere height. The dynamic between the two fae made her belly clench with arousal and for a few seconds she felt such an intense magnetic pull towards them that she could barely contain it.

“Gentlemen… I am Layla, the artist behind these photographs. I’m honored by your interest, and I couldn’t help but notice your tension… is there a problem?”

“Good evening, Layla,” Nestor greeted with a sultry drawl. “I am Nestor, King of the Court of Nightmares. Your work is extraordinary, I must have it.”

Quinn grinned and stepped closer to her, his ice-blue eyes twinkling with amusement. “I am Quinn, Emperor of the Court of Chaos. Our problem is that we both desire this piece of art, though not as much as we desire you.”

Nestor shifted closer to her right side, his scent enveloping her. “You should visit my court, Layla, and be the crown jewel of my kingdom. Choose me, fireheart.”

“Fireheart?” Layla muttered, a little taken by the nickname and the intensity in his eyes. 

Quinn hummed and let his towering form nearly envelop her left side. “We feel a connection to you, little one. A bond that cannot be ignored.”

Layla didn’t know whether to laugh or blush at their bold statements. The gallery suddenly buzzed with whispers and speculations as all eyes turned toward the three of them. Both fae males had surrounded her, and her cheeks felt hot, as did the rest of her body. Her pussy was also wet, aching with a need she couldn’t barely ignore. They weren’t just interested in her art—they wanted her. 

She took a deep breath, her heart pounding.

How could she refuse the King of Nightmares and Emperor of Chos without offending them?

“Gentlemen,” she finally said, her voice wavering, “I’m afraid the artist—meaning myself—is not available for such… arrangement. However, the art piece is. I am sure we can find a way to resolve this without—”

“Without what?” Nestor’s eyes darkened. “Without accepting the connection you are feeling?"

Layla opened her mouth to reply, but Quinn cut her off. “Don’t deny it, fireheart. You feel it too. The mating bond, the desire.”

Layla bit her lip and unconsciously rubbed her thighs together. Liquid warmth pooled in her core. “I… I don’t think this is appropriate.”

“Yet your pussy is wet and aching for us,” Quinn whispered against her ear, his breath warm. “And it’s not going away unless we take care of you.”

“Accept us, little mate,” Nestor said, sending shivers down her spine. “We can feel your need. You want us. Both.“

“I—I…” Layla stuttered wordlessly, her eyes flicking between the two fae. She felt such longing and undeniable attraction for them. But how could she just give in?

“You are ours, fireheart. Ours to claim in ways neither of us could do alone,” Quinn nodded, his ice-blue eyes intense.

“B-b-both of you…” Layla muttered, her body tightening pleasurably at the mere thought of those two fae belonging to her. 

“Hmm,” both men growled, their eyes caressing her face and red hair. 

Layla nodded slowly, listening to her heart which was screaming for them. Immediately, Fae magic surrounded her, stealing her breath away. The gallery blurred and melted away, replaced by a lavish bedroom filled with rich fabrics and flickering candles. Nestor and Quinn embraced her from both sides, their hands exploring her heated body. 

Nestor scented her neck, his fingers tangling in her loose hair as if he couldn’t have enough of her. Quinn kissed her shoulders over the straps of her dress, each lingering touch leaving trails of delightful warmth and heat. When their gazes locked on hers, she felt hypnotized by the mating bond between them. It was real; they belonged to her, and she ached with need, desperate to be touched by them. 

“Yes, fireheart,” Quinn rasped, sliding down the straps of her dress. “You are our mate, and you will be filled by us both.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Nestor said, unzipping the back of her dress, his fingers warm against her skin. “Do you agree, sweetheart? Do you want this?”

“Hmmm… I want you,” Layla breathed, adrenaline pumping in her heart. 

Quinn’s hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her lower lip. “Good girl,” he murmured, his icy eyes bearing into her emerald ones. They were enchanting, hypnotizing. “Now, let us show you what it means to be ours.”

Layla didn’t realize how quickly they scooped her up and propped her on the plush bed. They divested her of her clothing skillfully. Quinn peeled away her dress while Nestor unclasped her bra, moaning low as her breasts spilled free. He cupped them in his big palms and pushed them up to his hot mouth, suckling each pouting nipple. Quinn knelt at her half-closed thighs and gently removed her panties and shoes. Seeing how she hesitated once she was fully exposed to them, Quinn’s long fingers trailed down her belly, then lower, teasing the sensitive skin between her thighs.

“Open for us, little one,” Quinn said, his voice a seductive promise. “We’re going to fuck you deep, make you feel so good.”

Layla shyly opened her legs and suddenly both men were between them, each one securing a leg over their muscular thighs, their hands making sure she was fully open to their eyes. Using their magic, they removed their clothes, leaving her to gape at the two fae males, so big and powerful—in every way. 

Nestor had a sculpted body covered in tattoos. His eyes were warm and inviting, his stomach taut, his thighs firm and in between... his cock stood proud, looking utterly inhumane. It was thick and very long, pulsing, its length surrounded by protruding veins. Quinn was no less captivating. He was just as tall, his stance emphasizing the force of his thighs and the raw power of his well-muscled body. His eyes swirled with blue ice as he pumped his rigid cock. It was deliciously curved and textured with ridges, a little thicker than Nestor’s but not as long. 

Having both of them… Layla felt the dark desire, the intensity overflowing. The need. The craving. She wanted them. Wanted them more than anything in her life. 

“Fuuuuck, our mate’s even more beautiful than I imagined,” Nestor growled. She looked so pretty and tiny in contrast to their raging bodies. Flushed face, nipples out, pussy exposed. He wanted to debauch her. 

“Show us your pretty cunt, fireheart,” Quinn demanded softly. “Open those pretty lips nicely for your mates.”

Dazed by desire, Layla reached down and did as told. She opened her outer folds with two fingers, showing off her slit and the bud of her clit. Both men growled ferociously and stared for a few seconds. 

“That’s it,” Nestor growled, bending to lick a thick stripe up her pussy. “So wet already for your mates.”

Layla gasped, all sane thoughts fleeing. 

Quinn also leaned down to taste her pussy, kissing her throbbing clit. She saw stars. 

“She is ready for her mates,” Quinn said with a smirk. “You’re going to take every inch of us, aren’t you, fireheart?”

Layla whimpered, her voice and body trembling. “Yes… Please…”

The two males smiled. 

Nestor toyed with her pussy lips and Quinn rubbed her needy clit. Layla whimpered and struggled to arch off the bed. She squirmed restlessly, but their hold on her thighs was too secure, allowing no movement as their fingers probed and rubbed her pussy to their liking. She melted under their touch, her heart pulsing with the intensity of their bond.

“Such a sweet wet cunt," Quinn marveled, gathering her slick and rolling it between two fingers.

“Love your nipples, sweetheart,” Nestor drawled, moving to suckle one tit then the other, his tongue swirling around the hardened buds. 

“Pl… ease,” she sighed, her body feverish with need. “Need you. Need you so much it hurts!”

"Hurts?“ Quinn said in a mischievous tone as he rubbed her clit round and round while thrusting a thick finger inside her. Layla cried out and Nestor claimed her lips, swallowing her moans. 

“Hurts so good, hm, sweetheart?” Nestor drawled as their lips brushed, their tongues mating. 

“Yesss, please, more please… hmnnn...”

No sooner had she said that than Quinn was tasting her mouth, kissing her possessively and deeply. His tongue licked into her mouth then his tongue danced with hers. 

“What do you need, fireheart?”

Oh, how she adored the way they called her nicknames. She wanted to be theirs forever and get lost in their warmth and affection. 

“Want you so much. I’m so empty…”

“Our mate needs to be filled,” Nestor said to the other fae. “But first she will cum for us.”

Quinn agreed in a low chuckle and finger-fucked her while Nestor pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing over and over. Driving her higher and higher until she exploded, bliss and pleasure overtaking her until she couldn’t think or talk. Layla quivered and while she rode her orgasm, Nestor suckled her lower lip. Quinn moved to her breasts, his mouth nursing her aching nipples. Captive in their hold, she arched into their touch, drawn-out moans escaping her.

She was still dizzy from her orgasm when they shifted. Nestor sneaked between her thighs, slapping his heavy cock against her glistening pussy. The sound was wet and squelching, her pussy fluttering with the need to be filled. Quinn kneeled next to her head, his cock pulsing in the air, the tip leaking precum. Layla licked her lips, hungry to taste him. 

“Open,” Quinn commanded softly, “wet my dick, mate.”

Layla obeyed, her lips parting to take him in. Smiling mischievously, Quinn thrust his hips gently, his leaking cock stretching her mouth wide and filling it up. At the same time, Nestor entered her pussy, his girth spreading her cunt and filling her up inch by delectable inch. 

“Mhppphhh!” Layla gasped and gurgled around the cock in her mouth, her pussy filled to the limit by Nestor. Quinn gripped her fiery hair, guiding her head to keep sucking him. She was so full… Quinn’s shaft kissed her throat while Nestor’s cock kissed her cervix. 

“That’s it… fuck, you’re perfect,” Nestor groaned, watching her pussy suck him in. 

“Is it good, fireheart? Being fucked from both ends?” Quinn pulled his cock out of her mouth with a wet pop, his cock coated in her saliva. 

“Hmnn! Want more!”

With a proud moan, Quinn shoved his cock back into her hot mouth, going deeper and fucking down her throat. Nestor watched the lewd sight with pride. Their pretty mate struggled a little, but she took Quinn’s cock like the queen she was, hollowing her cheeks and clenching her pretty throat. She stroked his balls, cradling them in her small hands, her eyes rolling back with each thrust from both of them. 

Groaning, Nestor pounded deep into her cunt, making her pretty tits bounce with each sharp thrust. He kneaded her mounds, his thumbs pinching her nipples, causing her to gag and whimper around a mouthful of cock, her breathing heavy. Gods, she was so pretty like this, trapped between them, their cocks spearing her back and forth. 

A few calculated thrusts, and she came explosively, her body shuddering. Once she rode the waves of pleasure, the fae changed positions again, with Nestor fucking her mouth and Quinn taking her pussy. The dual sensations were overwhelming, liquid pleasure coursing through her veins as they filled her relentlessly. The room echoed with the rhythmic slaps of skin against skin and her muffled moans as she took fae cock. 

“Such a good mate for us,” Quinn said with pride. Her lips were swollen, her pussy drenched with her release. “Now it’s time to take our seed, hm?”

“Hmp, yes… want your cum,” Layla said in a seductive purr. 

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Nestor drawled. “Ready to take us both in your soaked cunt and tight little ass?“

“Hmm, gonna take you both,” Layla nodded, seeing the pride and desire on their handsome faces. “Need to feel you inside me.”

In a flurry of motion, they repositioned themselves so that Layla was straddling Nestor, her raw breasts rubbing against his muscled chest. Quinn kneeled behind her, his strong hands spreading her asscheeks, his thumbs teasing around the tight, puckered hole. Such a cute little hole. Layla whimpered when Nestor gripped her hips and guided her down onto his throbbing dick while Quinn thrust a magically lubed finger into her ass. 

Layla groaned, desperation and desire in her green eyes. 

Quinn kissed her spine. “Relax your pretty asshole and take my fingers, fireheart.”

Layla clutched Nestor’s shoulders and tried to relax while Quinn squeezed a second oiled finger into her ass, the thick intrusions making her gasp and shut her eyes tightly. The combination of Nestor filling her pussy and Quinn’s fingers in her ass was strange. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly at their mercy. 

“So damn tight," Nestor muttered against her moaning lips, his shaft buried in the heat of her cunt. 

Quinn added a third finger in her ass, pumped, and curled them inside her before replacing them with the head of his cock. The broad head spread her tight hole, forcing its way inside. Layla trembled at the dual invasion— they were so deep, stretching her wide around their inhuman girths. She glanced down at where they were joined, and with shock, she realized just how much more they had to go. Only a third of their shafts were inside her, and that both thrilled and scared her. 

Nestor’s voice broke through her haze. “You can do this, sweetheart.”

“You’re so big…” Layla whined. She was human, could she really take them both? 

“Deep breaths, mate,” Quinn advised gently. “Take a little more of us, hmm?” 

“Feels strange…” Layla looked at them for guidance, her cheeks flushed, her eyes worried. She could feel their dicks rubbing inside her, and she took deep breaths that were mixed with cries of pain and pleasure. 

“Let’s stroke your little clit,” Nestor murmured, his thumb stroking her bud, sending pulses of warmth all over her body. “Yesss, that feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Hmm! Moree!”

“Such a good little mate,” Nestor cooed and proved his point by pulling out of her wet cunt then slamming more inches inside.

“Our mate needed a cock up her cunt and ass so badly,” Quinn growled as he worked deeper into her ass. 

“You will take us, mate. Again and again until you reek of our cum. Our magic protects you. Relax your holes,” Quinn ordered in her ear. 

Blindsided by the fullness of their penetration, Layla said yes in a series of raspy moans. Their fae magic infused her fully, empowering her and building her arousal. Before long, she’d taken the full lengths of their cocks. The fullness, the heat, the stretch— she was overwhelmed but in no pain. She curled between their powerful bodies, and when they started fucking her in earnest, she cried out, her nails digging into their flesh. 

“Look at you,” Nestor growled, his purple eyes dark with lust. “So beautiful riding our dicks.”

“You’re perfect like this, fireheart,” Quinn whispered, his hands fondling her asscheeks. “So tight, so hot.”

Hands grabbed and fondled her as they pounded her, their cocks owning her depths. When Nestor’s cock left her pussy, Quinn plunged into her ass. Layla tried to get more friction only to have their strong hands restrain her. Nestor grasped her tits while Quinn secured her wrists with magical silken ropes, carefully tying her arms behind her back. The silk felt like a caress, soft and slightly loose.

She didn’t complain; she only trembled between them, her watery eyes begging them to claim her. 

“If this is too much for you, fireheart, say “red” and we will stop. I promise you. Understood?”

“Yesss,” Layla nodded fervently. “Now… just fuck me.”

“Easy, sweetheart,” Nestor said, his hands gripping her thighs. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Layla was too far gone to think straight. “C-can’t! Want more!” 

“It’s the mating bond. She is human, and it’s affecting her. Our magic is also making everything stronger,” Nestor explained to the other fae. 

“Such a needy little mate,” Quinn rasped and pressed a harsh kiss to her mouth. “Bound and begging for us.”

Nestor grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You think you can handle us, huh? Think you can keep up with us?”

“Hmn… I can handle it,” Layla panted as they impaled her on their stiff cocks. 

Nestor chuckled from under her, his fingers pinching her nipples. “Is that so? Well, let’s see how long you can keep that attitude.” 

The two males exchanged glances before they resumed pounding into her. Nestor lifted her a few inches, then lowered her back down onto his cock. Quinn thrust his hips, fucking her ass in full thrusts that reached deep into her guts. They were both too thick, too hard, and too long, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

It went on and on; their stamina seemed endless, their cocks so impossibly hard and swollen with the need to cum. The scent of desire hung heavily in the air and she came again with uncontrollable, shuddering contractions, her holes clenching hard around their massive girths. The males followed right after her, their muscled bodies shuddering, roars ringing out as she felt something burst inside her. Massive wings sprouted from their backs as their seed filled her up, loads and loads of it, forcing little aftershocks of ecstasy. 

But they were far from done. 

They switched places, Nestor claiming her now stretched asshole while Quinn filled up her pussy. Their wings curled around her as they slammed inside her, and Layla lost herself in the mating bond, quaking between them, her arms securely bound, her holes fluttering around their shafts. She could only whimper and utter their names, begging them to stop, then begging them to never stop and make her cum.

“Remember your safe word, mate,” Quinn reminded her roughly. “If it’s too much say "red" and we will stop.”

“Would you like us to stop fucking your naughty holes?” Nestor’s fingers curled around her nape, his hips snapping repeatedly into hers. 

“Nnn—nooo!” Layla whined, her body tense as she balanced on the edge of pleasure. 

Quinn growled his approval. “That’s good, fireheart, because we’re not going to.”

The bed creaked, obscene moans echoing with every move they made. Her fae mates fucked her powerfully, thrusting to the hilt again and again, deep and tirelessly. Quinn devoured her lips with his kisses, his hands cupping her tits and pinching her sore nipples. Nestor growled from behind her, his broad chest pressing against her back as he claimed her ass and flicked her clit with his thumb. 

They were primal and fully affected by the need to claim her, and she loved it—she loved them and how they fucked her, it was unlike anything she had imagined.

Layla’s moans rang out when she came again, sobs of pleasure escaping her kiss-swollen mouth. She trembled as a pleasure bomb went off in her center. It was too much, but it was divine, every nerve was alight. They joined her soon after, pulsing up inside her and releasing spurt after spurt of their cum. She was already filled with them, but the second load overflowed from her, dribbling down her thighs. 

Layla didn’t know for how long it went on. 

They untied the silk ropes and took her again and again, lifting her off the bed, sandwiching her between their aroused bodies and feeding her their cocks in every position imaginable. Their wings flapped powerfully, and when Layla touched them, her mates went into a mating rage, driving deep inside her, claiming her, owning her. 

As the sun began to rise, their frenzied mating finally came to an end. 

They collapsed on the bed, the covers tattered and smeared with signs of their primitive coupling. Layla’s mates enveloped her, spooning her from front to back, their bodies entwined with hers, their cocks still hard inside her due to the suction of her cunt and ass. She was sated and exhausted, feeling a sense of belonging she had never known before. 

They took turns kissing her, softly, lovingly, whispering sweet nothings while gazing at her with an impossibly soft, oh-so-soft expression on their faces. Their seed had marked her as theirs; the mate of the Nightmare and Chaos Courts.

“Who do you belong to, little mate?” Nestor asked, kissing the side of her neck.

“You,” Layla breathed. “Both of you.”

Nestor growled and gazed at her possessively. She belonged wholly to them. And they to her. She was filled to the brim with their seed, her holes stretched taut around their shafts. It was the ultimate claiming. "So beautiful. You did so well, fireheart.”

“Stunning.” Quinn brushed a few sweaty hair strands from her face and kissed her fluttering eyelashes. “You were so good for us, mate. Our beautiful Queen and Empress.”

“Yes,” Nestor agreed proudly. “We shall unite our courts and give our mate everything.”

“Hmmm,” Quinn hummed against her chest, his voice a sultry whisper against her lips. “Do you like being filled by your King and Emperor, fireheart?” 

“Yes,” Layla answered, her heart brimming with affection for them. “I love it. I love you both.”

Nestor hummed from behind her, kissing her softly. “We love you more. You’re ours, sweetheart. Forever.”

That night, they’d claimed more than a masterpiece. 

They’d claimed their soulmate. 

[drghostwrite]

Seeing Green

Pairing: Larissa Weems x wife!reader

Summary: one jealous Larissa and her gorgeous wife.

Warnings: Minors DNI, smut, mommy, cockwarming, mentions of getting pregnant(breeding)… and ofc jealousy.

P.S. idk if anyone remembers shadow hunters but this is a bit of a crossover with reader being an shadow hunter.

******************************************************** Of all the places you wanted to be this wasn’t it, surrounded by pink and blues at a baby shower.

Before you met Larissa and moved into a full time teaching position at Nevermore, you lived in Jericho. You were a shadow hunter and had an ability to read feelings and emotions, you couldn’t hear a direct thought but you could feel them, if you were sitting in a room with a killer it came in handy. Then you worked for the FBI hunting serial killers and using your abilities, that was until one day you had a rough run in and almost died, that’s when you decided that the war between worlds was not your thing. So you moved to Jericho and built another life for yourself, when a teaching position opened at Nevermore you jumped and now you teach psychology, along with some magic classes.

That’s where you met your wife, Larissa Weems, a gorgeous goddess of a woman that now sat at a table watching as you talked to one of your old friends.

“Hey Y/N!” Jess exclaimed as she spotted you.

“Hey mama!” You said hugging her, her large baby bump pressing into you.

“Wow you look amazing…” you said pulling back, a hand coming to the side of her belly.

“Well between you and me, I don’t feel it.” She chuckled.

“Oh well you’re glowing, how’s baby doing? How’re you doing?”

“We’re good, though I miss you… a lot. You and Larissa should visit more often.” She said smiling gently at you.

“Jess, you know how hard it is… I’m lucky you came to terms with me as fast as you did…”

“it’s because you never scared me, intimidated me with the tattoos and everything maybe.” She laughed motioning to the runes that covered patches of your upper arms.

As you two stood there laughing and talking, Larissa slightly glared letting her mind wander, oh how she wished that you were the one standing there sporting a baby bump, the pride in knowing that it was her baby in there. To see you laugh and hug your girlfriends as they congratulated the both of you, it’s something she’s thought about but she never asked you if you even wanted kids, you were amazing with them from babies to teens but she never asked if you reciprocated the idea of having your own. But now seeing you standing there so happy as you talked with your best friend, the image of you pregnant with her baby searing in her mind, it made her heart beat out of her chest.

“Hey ‘Riss?…Larissa?” You called, jolting her from her thoughts as she heard you and saw you waving over to her. She stood smoothing out her jeans that she currently wore and the silky white button up, padding her way over to you.

“Hello darling,” she said leaning down to place a kiss on your lips, “Jess.” She nodded politely at the shorter woman.

“Hey Larissa.” Jess said reaching up to hug Larissa.

“So Jess and I were just talking about us maybe coming to visit once the baby is born.” You gleamed up at your wife, leaning into her side as she wrapped an arm around you, you rested you head on her chest.

“Oh, really?” She smiled looking between you and Jess.

“Yea, I want Y/N and you, both of you to meet them and with y’all being perfect for each other maybe it’ll give you some baby fever so y’all will have some.” She poked at your side as you all laughed.

“Well we would be delighted to you…” Larissa smiled.

“Yay! So to my next thing, when are we finally have a little Weems running around?” She asked and you leaned into your wife’s side hearing as her breath catch in her chest.

“Not sure,” you said looking up to Larissa, “sooner rather than later.”

“Well I’m-” before she could finish someone was calling her over to do another game, you stayed for a little while longer before it started getting late and you decided to head home.

You found your way in the house and carried your tired forms up the stairs, you stood in front of your vanity as you slipped into some pajamas. You watched as Larissa stripped in front of the closet, smooth milky skin exposed for your eyes to wander, you watched as she smoothly unhooked her bra tossing it aside and then slowly bent down to slip out of her panties, she knew you were watching. Pretending to pick which pajama pants she turned around, you could see the barren patch of skin between her legs. She saw you out of the corner of her eye as you quickly turned back around.

“Y/N, Dear?” She said a perfectly manicured hand sliding over your shoulder and down your front tickling the skin between your breasts.

“Yes, my love…” you said trying to keep your voice steady as you crossed you legs trying to feel some friction as the knot started forming.

“Do you like what you see?” Her hand traveled lower, as your eyes wandered over her reflection in your mirror, one of your soft linen flannels only a few buttons closed, loosely hugging her form, the dark colors contrasting with her milky skin, she had long forgotten the pajama pants opting to let her legs barren.

“Larissa, I…” she cut you off by using her other hands to force your legs open, slowly bending down next to you her breath warm on the shell of your ear.

“I want you to see what I do to you.” She rasped in your ear as you watched her in the mirror, your eyes fluttering as you bit your lip fighting to hold back a moan.

“Damn…” you chuckled as her long slender fingers dipped beneath your panty line. You tried staying as stoic as possible but the minute she found your clit you were a dead woman. You drew in a sharp breath and slightly leaned back into her.

“Mm… such a pretty wife.” She said pulling your ear between her teeth, leaning to rake her teeth over your neck before placing little bites and kisses along your pulse points. Her fingers continued to tease you, dipping down to collect your slick and back up to pressure your clit.

“Larissa please…” you said in a breathy tone and got no response except for a particularly harsh bite that would be noticeable tomorrow.

“baby…” you whined.

“I wanna hear you beg.” She commanded.

“Mommy…please…” you begged in a breathless tone, a deep chuckle resounding against you as her lips pulled in a scandalous smirk. You let out a soft moan in response feeling the knot pull tighter, so close to your high just from her teasing and that’s when you felt it, she pulled her fingers away, the heat of her breath no longer ghosting over your skin.

“Larissa?” You called as you felt her no longer behind you and heard your bed shift as she sat on it.

“Come here darling…” you turned and saw her leaned back, her legs crossed perfectly out in front of her, she was slowly playing with the buttons on her shirt opening it to reveal nothing underneath.

“Mrs. Weems, such a tease…” you whispered letting your eyes trail her body, she guided you to straddle her lap, her hands wandering up your body to push your shirt off.

“Mm… let mommy help you with these.” She smirked pulling at your shorts, you lifted your hips to help her slide them off. As soon as they were in the floor you were grinding yourself down into her hips, leaning forward and placing heated kisses on her lips.

“Mommy please, I…” you stopped as you felt something new between your legs. You pulled back to see the new member between her legs, hard and standing at attention.

“Larissa…”

She let out a low chuckle, “surprise…” she smirked.

“whaaa…” you breathed out against her as she sat up some more to place kisses across your chest.

“I wanna try something new.” She said guiding your hips up and lining up her new toy. She helped you guide it in and slowly let you adjust, a low guttural moan vibrating through your chest, your fingernails raked across her back and shoulders as she ran gentle hand across your hip and lower back, she pulled a taut nipple into her mouth letting her tongue swirl as your head fell back.

“Holy…” you moaned out as her hands grasped your hips. You slowly started to move but not before you heard a phone ring. “behave…” Larissa said as she leaned over scooping it up and answering, “Jess, hey what’s up?” She asked your best friend and you could hear the conversation on the other end, you sat perfectly still trying your best not to move but every second that she was inside you became more excruciating, you could feel your muscles clench around her dick as she occasionally shifted where she sat, hitting your sweet spot and sending shockwaves through your body, you clenched around her and she shot you a look, she adjusted your hips seeing as you bit your lip trying not to whimper or moan.

“Well hopefully it’s our turn soon… yea… oh you know Y/N… this is very true, she would look amazing pregnant… oh… why yes in fact… uh huh… you too, goodnight.” You caught bits and pieces of the conversation as your brain went fuzzy, your core was on fire, just begging for attention. As soon as Larissa hung up you whimpered.

“Mommy please…” you begged trying to roll your hips.

“oh does my poor baby need my attention?” She teased.

“just rail me already…” you groaned out in a sultry tone, hips starting to swirl more rapidly.

“If you say so…” she said thrusting up into you, at first starting slow and agonizing swirling her hips, just barely ghosting over your sweet spot.

“Mmnhh…” you let out a frustrated moan, her hips started to move faster and more deliberate, as you leaned forward to grab the headboard, she placed kisses in between your breast, turning to rake her teeth over one, she buried her face in your chest going back and forth between sensitive nipples, one hand coming up and slender fingers pulling at a taut nipple.

“Larissa… I-I think I’m gonna…” you moaned arching into her and closing your eyes.

“Nu uh… open those pretty eyes, let me watch them as I put a baby in you.” She thrusted harder.

“A baby… oh shit…” you moaned.

“Mm… I was so jealous seeing you hug her, seeing the baby bump, knowing how amazing you would look carrying my baby…” she growled in her raspy tone, breath hot on your ear as you rested your head in the crook of her neck still letting your hips rock.

“We would make… really, pretty… babies…” you breathed out, breath ragged.

“And you would look ravishing…”

“Damnit, cum in me…breed me, put a baby in me…” you said squeezing your legs around her as you hit your high, you watched her eyes as she let out a low moan feeling her release inside of you. Slowly she pulled out lifting you off of her and letting you lay down, she laid next to you, curling into one another, her fingertips tickling your lower abdomen savoring the moment.

“Do you think we have a little one in there?” She kissed the back of your neck, letting her mind wander at the thought of you being pregnant.

“mm well we could try again to be sure…” you smirked mischievously. A glint came over her eyes as she jolted her hips against yours.

“can’t hurt.” She said a sly smirk pulling at her lips, slowly shifting her body overtop of you. she bent down kissing your lips as you laughed into the kiss, her hand traveling back down to your legs, thumbs massaging circles into your inner thigh.

"absolutely breathtaking," she said softly between kisses as she pushed herself back into you, you could feel the stretch as you adjusted.

"you shifted again...God, that feels amazing." you said drawing in a sharp breath.

"Mm, you take me so well darling," she said watching as her dick thrust in and out of you, her hips starting to move at a superhuman pace, you could feel every vein pull in and out as she ghosted over your sweet spot. You let small moans slip out in between kisses, only breaking so you could both breathe.

"Let me hear you darling, let me hear how good I make you feel." she whispered in your ear, your sweet moans filling the dark bedroom. You could hear the unholy sounds of skin on skin, how wet you were as she let her hips do the work. You felt as she lifted your legs over her shoulder, letting her reach deeper hitting that spongy spot harder and faster than before, drawing multiple orgasms from your body. It wasn't long before you she started to break her rhythm getting sloppy as her hips thrusted, it wasn't long before you could feel her cumming inside of you, drawing one last moan from your lips.

"pretty sure I'm seeing stars..." you both laughed. She bent down to kiss your stomach, before going back up to your lips. "you know it's okay to be jealous, but you'll never lose me, I'm yours."

"Mine and one day the mother of our beautiful children." she smiled at you, kissing your lips one last time before settling in next to you, wrapping you in her long milky arms.

[banj0possum]

Infernal Infatuation

Demon x Gn Reader

I've had a little idea for a while but never managed to write it out. This is gonna be a 2-part fic so better strap in folks :)

CW: murder, gore, shit friend-group, brief mention of animal slaughtering, demonic themes

🔥 You cursed yourself as you sat uncomfortably squished between the car door and one of your friends who didn't even awknowledge your distress.

🔥 Why did you have to listen to your friends? Why did you agree to their text about joining them in trying to perform a "cool demonic looking ritual" they found online? Why is this car so sticky???

🔥 It was loud and generally overwhelming inside the car, blaring music was coming from the speaker, everyone was moving around and singing along to the songs at the top of their lungs, and it looked almost 2am from how dark it was.

🔥 Your friends figured that you all could get in trouble if you performed their little "game" where lots of people could see and decided to drive out somewhere along the highway that had little to no people passing through, especially during that time of day.

🔥 One of your friends, Justin, remembered an old abandoned warehouse that was near and unmonitored, the perfect place to mess around.

🔥 The car turns and drives off the road, rolling along a bumpy terrain as you can see the warehouse grow closer as the car's headlights illuminate its rusty exterior.

🔥 An uneasy feeling grows within your stomach as everyone gets out of the car laughing and checking out the building. You can't keep your eyes off it as its old walls held a sense of dread and doom.

🔥 Audrey, the one who asked you to join, wrapped an arm around you and laughed. "What are you doing you weirdo? C'mon! We got a monster to summon!" She jokes as she catches up to the others. You sigh and shake off the last bits of fear in you.

🔥 Audrey takes out her phone and reads the instructions for the ritual. Your other friends helped in lighting candles, drawing the pentagram and sigils while Justin recorded everything, laughing like it was some everyday prank. You just sat there, getting more and more concerned about the situation.

🔥 You ask Audrey if you could leave, the scene getting a bit much for you but she scoffs, calling you a pussy. Your brow furrows and you sit back down, very hurt by her comment.

🔥 Once everything was set, everyone stood around the pentagram. You join hands as Audrey reads out the chant, Justin still snickering to himself behind his phone.

🔥 "Oh yeah, it says everyone has to make a blood sacrifice of something but we got that covered." Audrey laughs and pulls out a jar of blood from the duffle bag she brought. Apparently they just took the blood from a pig and settled on it, but you feared about the consequences of cheating the ritual so you take a small knife you carry around all the time for self defense and cut a tiny slit in your finger, you drop it in the center while everyone carelessly pours the pig's blood in.

🔥 Everyone goes silent before a low rumbling is felt in the ground, like the earth itself was pulsing.

🔥 Suddenly, the candles are blown out, the smoke from the wicks swirling around the center of the circle as the ground shook violently. Everyone but you start exclaiming in astonishment like it was a magic trick in a circus.

🔥 You step back as the swirl of smoke forms into somewhat of a humanoid shape. The pentagram starts glowing red as the smoky figure opens its pitch eyes, the smoke dissipates to reveal what looks like a man, his grey skin was scattered in black tattoos that covered his arms and back as well as parts of his face. He had ghostly white hair that framed his sharp face perfectly. His tail swished behind him what went from his skin's grey to black the closer it got to the tip. He blinks and white pupils appear in his black eyes. He wore nothing but dark red pants that was held up by a rope or ribbon that was secured along his waste.

🔥 He looks at everyone as your friends all had mixed reactions, some were screaming their heads off while others were laughing and cheering over how their little trick worked.

🔥 Audrey in particular, was ecstatic, taking pictures of the demon as it stared at her.

🔥 "Oh my god, I didn't know he would be so hot!-" She was about to place he hand on his chest when he grabbed her wrist. She yelped and tried to let go but his grip was as strong as iron.

🔥 She starts screaming and trying to push him away while everyone else laughed at the scene. You could only step back and watch as Audrey continued yelling at the boy to let go of her, now scared out of her mind.

🔥 The dreaded ringing of laughter stopped all of a sudden after a loud, wet crack. Blood gushes out of Audrey's arm as he steps back from the grey man, you shake as you still see her now ripped off arm still in his grip.

🔥 Your friend's laughter is replaced with screams as the demon kills off your friends one by one, you run off and take cover behind an old truck in the warehouse while you hear the gruesome sounds of flesh ripping and your friends' screams diminishing with every life taken by the monster you summoned out of pure stupidity and recklessness.

🔥 The sounds stopped for a moment before you hear the sound of footsteps slowly coming towards you. You cry silently, praying to whatever was watching over you to help you, for a saving grace, a miracle, anything to get you out of there.

🔥 Your eyes blink open as you see the man kneeling down at you with wide eyes, the blood of your friends getting absorbed into his skin, giving his eyes a redder tint. You close your eyes, tears falling down your cheeks as you wait for your painful death.

🔥 But it never came.

🔥 A soft touch to your wet face makes you flinch as the demon coos at you and wipes away your tears, rubbing your cheek.

🔥 "Why are you so sad Master? Your sacrifice was much appreciated."

🔥 He spoke with a soft, sultry voice. You stutter out a "What?" as he cocks his head.

🔥 "Yes, those lowly creatures were very annoying, but their blood was the greatest gift I've ever received, such generosity deserves just service, right?" he smiles.

🔥 You were confused; Master? why would he be calling you that? Still frazzled by the events that happened to you, you stood up and started walking away, the moments you've witnessed still not sinking into your soul yet.

🔥 The demon stays where he was a bit longer before catching up to you, still smiling like he didn't just kill 5 people right in front of you.

🔥 "Are we going to your abode, Master? I'd be happy to carry you, you seem a bit exhausted." He said, going in front of you and offering his arms.

🔥 You laugh nervously at him, "N-no! No heheh.. uhm.. I'm fine walking to the car.." You walk by him, as his elvish ears perk up. "Car? I've never been in a car before!"

🔥 Now here you are, driving back to your house in blood-soaked clothes in your now dead friend's car with a demon who was busy sticking his tongue out of the cat window like a giant dog.

🔥 The silence was unbearable as the uneasiness of having such a dangerous creature next to you swallowed you whole, you didn't bother turning on music as he tried turning the dials and broke it.

🔥 "So..uh...why didn't you kill me? I know I'm your 'master' now and all but uh...Why not the others?"

🔥 "You really didn't know how it worked? Well, those idiots took a dumb shortcut and offered the blood of an animal. You, Master, generously gave your own blood for me, speaking of which.." He takes your hand that had the cut and licked it. You pull back your hand in disgust and try to carefully rub off the saliva but find that your finger no longer hurt. You look at it and see the cut fully healed, not a scar left.

🔥 You look at the demon who gave you a toothy smile and sighed.

🔥 "So..what do I call you?"

🔥 "My name is Dorik! May I know your's, Master?"

🔥 "Uh..I'm (Y/N).."

🔥 "What a fun name! (Y/N)..I like it!" He turns his head back to the window and giggles at the wind in his face. You couldn't help but giggle at his cute behavior. Looks like you have a new companion for a while...

🔥 Oh my god your friends are dead...

[honeylations]

AERI UCHINAGA x FEM!READER

Prompt: You were dragged to a club for the first time to celebrate your birthday, and your loser ass didn’t think you’d pull the finest woman you’d ever seen

Warnings/Notes: g!p loser reader, virgin reader, unprotected sex, overstimulation

A/N: I think it was a crime for me to not have written a fic for my beloved Aeri yet. She’s bad as helllll 🤤

“Somi, I don’t like it here. Can we go?”

Your best friend snapped her head at you in bewilderment upon just reaching the bar to get you both alcoholic drinks - in which by the way, you have very little knowledge about.

The only alcohol you know is Soju, and that’s just because Somi brings bottles home for herself to chug.

“Y/n seriously? We just got here”

“It’s loud and stinky. I don’t know anyone here”

The foreign girl rolled her eyes and stood in front of you with a hand on her hip. “That’s the point of clubs, bestie. People come here to meet new faces or eat new faces”

You cringed at the last part.

“But we’re mostly here to celebrate your birthday okay? Plus, our friends are here”

“Who?”

Somi pointed at a vip booth in the corner where Natty, Julie, Belle, and Haneul were sharing a cheerful conversation between shots and cocktails.

You turned back to your best friend who magically had two glasses of vodka lemonade. “Let’s go”

Following Somi to the booth like a timid puppy, a few pretty ladies eyed you like candy, even giving you a flirtatious smile to which you bowed your head out of shyness.

You didn’t know it, but it was definitely your outfit pulling women like a magnet. You wore a black button up tucked in wide black slacks and a belt to hold it in place, matching your loafers.

Finally reaching your friends, Somi looked at you and sighed at seeing you had all your buttons popped in. “Y/n, what did I say about the buttons? You look like you’re going to church!”

“I’d rather be at church than this hell hole!”

“What’s the point of you getting tattoos when all you do is cover it up! Be a whore for once!” Your best friend hissed, releasing the top 3 buttons of your top, moving on to unbutton your sleeves to roll them up halfway.

“There. Much better, ain’t that right girls?” Somi smirked at her friends who hollered in agreement.

“Happy birthday, sexy Y/n!” Jennie screamed, waving the tequila bottle around.

“It’s my first time seeing you like this Y/n, you look great!” Belle complimented.

“Yeah so sexy~” Natty added after.

“I like your tattoos Y/n!” Haneul then had her share of compliments which got you blushing from their kind words.

“T-Thank you..”

“I take all the credit” Somi proudly stated and raised her glass. “To the unloserfication of Y/n!”

You all clinked your glasses and had a good amount of your beverage before Julie filled you a shot of tequila.

You gave her a deadpanned look.

“Grow up, Y/n. It’s time for you to try new things!”

Sighing in defeat, you took a deep breath and downed the shot, coughing afterwards from the burning taste. “I don’t know how you enjoy this. It’s horrible”

“It gets better when you have more, trust me!” Natty stepped in to pour you a row of shots.

“I don’t think I can do all that—“

“I’m not taking no for an answer. Go go go!”

Belle lightly shoved you forwards and within a few seconds, you had finished every shot glass Natty prepared, feeling the buzz through your entire body.

“I-I feel…so…so weird” You slurred, making the girls laugh.

“Drunk already Y/n? We haven’t even danced yet! Let’s go!!” Somi grabbed your hand and next thing you know it, your whole group where mixed in the messy crowd under the neon lights.

Everyone was enjoying the loud music while you stood there awkwardly in the middle, not realising you had lost your friends within the sea of drunk people. Even standing so tall at 173cm, you still couldn’t distinguish where they disappeared to.

You constantly looked around while staying on the spot, becoming uncomfortable at the unfamiliar bodies pressing against you.

That was until the most finest woman you had ever seen stood in front of you. It was clear that it was intentional from the way she started at you with such sultry eyes and a beautiful smile.

“Lost?” She leaned up to say in your ear from the loud music.

You just nodded with a pout.

The girl grabbed your hand. “Then stay with me. I’ll take care of you”

Being the loser you were, you nodded again. With that same pout.

“I’m Aeri!”

“I-I’m Y/n. Nice to meet you”

Aeri giggled and made you wrap your arms around her waist. “Don’t be so shy! Let’s party!”

“I don’t know how to dance!”

“Just feel the music Y/n!” Aeri cheered and made you sway your body with hers as she had her arms locked around your neck.

You got the hang of it eventually and then the music got more sexual, playing buttons by the pussycat dolls, affecting the atmosphere to grow hotter.

Aeri turned around and grinded her ass back into your front, surprising you entirely while you still held her waist. She looked back at you with a smirk, feeling how your grip tightened. “You like that, pretty girl?”

Seemed like you didn’t know how to speak anymore because all you could respond was a dorky nod. Aeri continued her bold ministrations but when a guy in front of her started reaching out to hold her hands, an icky feeling bolted through your veins, automatically making you pull Aeri close to your body.

The shorter girl got confused and titled her head around to question your sudden move. Then she saw the clear anger in your face as you gave an icy glare towards the strange man that reached for her a few seconds before. The man awkwardly walked his way out the situation, not willing to get his ass kicked by you.

“Jealous, puppy?”

Oh how the nickname made your dick twitch. Aeri really had an effect on you and you liked it a lot. The way she could easily hypnotise you into doing whatever she wanted.

“You promised you wouldn’t leave me”

Aeri chuckled and cupped your jaw to lean into your ear again. “Fuck you’re so cute. Let’s go somewhere more quiet hm?”

You were desperate to say yes immediately but then you remembered your friends. They’ll be worried sick. But then again, they ditched you first.

Even if Aeri was secretly some lesbian serial killer, at least it was a flex to be murdered by a hot woman who would surely wanna fuck first before plunging a knife through your neck.

You quickly reached for your phone and sent Somi a small message.

SAUR-MEE 🐀

[Gonna leave with a hot girl. Don’t wait up for me]

You saw her begin typing from her end but you locked your phone and slid in your back pocket before facing Aeri again.

“Good puppy” She kissed your cheek and started taking you outside the club while hand in hand.

“W-Where are we going?”

“My place. I’d rather fuck there than in a club”

Your heart jumped. You were gonna fuck Aeri? Yay!

Aeri let you inside her beautiful apartment and closed the door behind her once you stepped foot. She kicked off her heels, encouraging you to neatly place your shoes by her door.

“Come with me, cutie” She husked and walked you upstairs where her bedroom was, also locking you inside.

She stood close to you, running her hands over your exposed collarbones, seeing your tattoos underneath them. “Hmm…butterflies and roses?”

“M-My mom likes butterflies and roses”

Aeri let out a mixture of a sigh and chuckle. “You seem so innocent. A loser in a hot body”

Your ears went red. “Sorry. I’ve never done anything like this before. I don’t even like clubs and alcohol”

“Awe dear. Why were you at there then?”

“I-It’s my birthday and my friends wanted to celebrate it at the club”

Aeri tilted her head at you, her aura softening at your timid state. “Hey baby, we don’t have to continue this if you’re uncomfortable”

You blinked and quickly wrapped your arms around Aeri’s waist. “N-No! I wanna stay with you”

“Alright puppy, I’ll guide you through this okay?”

“Mhm”

The Japanese girl had one hand cupping your jaw, leaning up to plant a soft kiss at your lips. It felt so warm and you couldn’t help but tilt your head to kiss her deeper, even prodding your tongue inside.

It surprised Aeri so much she had to pull away, almost out of breath. “You said you’ve never done this before”

“I’ve never had sex, but I’ve kissed a few girls in my time” you smiled and it was probably the first smile Aeri got from you tonight.

You were a mixture of pretty and handsome. A combination Aeri liked.

“Well then, show me how much of a good kisser you are Y/n”

You leaned down again, going in with full tongue that for Aeri moaning. Her noises sounded better than the girls you’ve watched on porn, and it seemed to have a quick effect on you, noticing that your dick was getting hard.

“My, my, what do we have here?” Aeri giggled against your lips while palming your crotch.

“I-I’m sorry..c-can’t help it”

“Aw baby, don’t be so shy. I can’t wait to have all of you tonight”

You watched the Japanese girl unbutton the rest of your top that exposed your bra and the rock hard abs below it. You were now completely topless and Aeri took a moment to admire more of your tattoos that littered your forearms.

“So sexy” she husked.

You gulped under her lustful gaze and her next move of unbuckling your belt to undo your pants, making it pool by your feet. Your boner looked bigger underneath your black boxers and Aeri just had to keep rubbing it all over, enjoying the feeling of it twitch.

“A-Aeri…” you breathed out.

“Hm, I don’t think it’s fair that I still have everything on. Take a seat on my bed, cutie”

You did as you were told and Aeri began unzipping her tight dress, giving you a good show of her revealed skin when abandoned the item of clothing on the floor.

Her matching lingerie were removed next, and before you know it, she was on her knees in front of you, spreading your legs to lean in and kiss at your clothed cock.

You groaned with the sheets tight in your fists, letting Aeri finally pull down your boxers that your cock sprang free, slapping against your stomach.

The size made the girl freeze. “Shit, you’re huge”

“I-Is it okay?”

Aeri smiled and held the base of it, slowly stroking you. “It’s perfect. And hot. You got everything I need, puppy. Here’s my birthday gift for you”

You released a throaty moan when Aeri was brave enough to attempt in engulfing your entire length in one go, but she could only make it halfway.

“F-Fuck!”

The stretch in her jaw ached as she jerked off the remaining length she couldn’t take, making her gurgle. Aeri looked up at you in tears, however, your head was thrown back letting her saw your perfect jaw and how your Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Aeri..It feels so good, Aeri”

The girl released your cock with a loud pop, moving her body up to straddle your lap and kiss at your neck, aiming to leave plenty of marks.

She made sure to give your collarbone tattoos a kiss too.

“W-Why did you stop?” You whimpered, giving Aeri your puppy eyes.

“Seems fun having you stretch my mouth, but I’m so desperate and horny baby. Need your cock to stretch my pussy instead”

“O-Oh..but a condom—“

“Ever heard of a pill, Y/n? It’s so I can let handsome puppies like you breed me”

You felt a bit jealous knowing that Aeri had slept with other people, but hey, you were the epitome of a loser while Aeri was this smoking hot woman that could pull the entire club as if she was a magnet.

Still though, after tonight you probably don’t want to be sleeping with anybody else.

“Hey, why so quiet?” Aeri’s soft voice called as she tilted your head up by the chin.

“Nothing…Is it safe to continue?”

“You know, people usually shut up and plunge their dick inside me until I cry. You’re different…So gentle with women as if they’ll break easily”

You rubbed Aeri’s waist, letting her words sink in. “That’s because I care alot. The last thing I want is to hurt you…plus we’ve established that I’m a virgin so I don’t think it would be a good move to just plunge my dick inside you until you cry” you giggled while mocking her words.

“So sweet. I’ll make sure you won’t stop thinking about me and how good I make you feel”

You licked your lips and felt Aeri grabbing your cock to line it with her entrance.

“I-I already felt like that the moment I laid eyes on you” you smoothly said, not knowing where this rizz came about.

“A-Ah!…God, you’re a sweet talker aren’t you?” Aeri gasped when she started to sit herself down on your huge cock.

She hid her face in your neck, wincing here and there as she sank lower. It took a whole minute for her to finally be sitting in your lap, practically impaled by you. “Hah…god it hurts so good, puppy”

You didn’t say anything as Aeri placed a flat palm in the centre of your chest and forcefully pushed you down on your back. She began moving her hips at a slow pace, delicious moans ripping out her lips and gradually moving faster until you could hear your skin slapping together.

“Y/n! I feel so full oh god!”

“Aeri, holy shit you’re so tight!” You hissed.

The intense pleasure had your hands automatically roaming around Aeri’s ass, squeezing the soft flesh and digging your nails into it as she rode your cock desperately.

This entire experience of getting laid opened your eyes a little bit to what you’ve been missing out on. If going to the clubs and drinking some shitty alcohol meant getting a hot girl riding your dick, then you might as well become a Somi 2.0. But what would it mean if you only wanted Aeri and no one else?

“This cock is mine puppy…hah…I want you to fucking belong to me. No one else can have you” Aeri moaned which was close to a growl.

You leaned up to kiss and suck at her big tits, enjoying the way they’d bounce in front of your face each time she rocked into your dick. Aeri moaned louder, holding your head close to her chest and muttering praises of how good you were making her feel.

“I want you to cum in me, Y/n! Please make me your cum dump, baby”

The vulgar words were like magic and made your eyes roll back with each motion of her tight pussy sucking you in. You laid back and got a good grip on Aeri’s ass to force her hips faster, then eventually thrusting your own hips up to meet her halfway.

Aeri lost her energy and laid on top of you while you used her like a fuck doll, the slight curve in your cock made her cry. “Oh f-fuck y/n, I’m cumming baby! Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop!”

On cue, Aeri screamed out your name and gushed her wetness all over your lower body, blabbering incoherent words in your ear and laying limp in your arms.

But your movement didn’t stop.

You were chasing for your own orgasm, not caring that the girl on top of you had already reached her climax and pushing her through over sensitivity.

So much for being gentle.

“W-Wait baby, a-ah!!”

You were panting like a mad dog in Aeri’s neck, licking and biting her skin, practically drilling your cock inside her hole. “Mmm so good so good Aeri. I love the way you feel around my cock…”

Your words made her cum a second time, hitting a lot stronger than the first.

“Fuck too tight!” You growled, the bubbling pit in your stomach had hit its high, releasing ropes after ropes of your thick cum inside the Japanese girl.

“Oh fuck Aeri!”

You relaxed into the mattress and caressed the girl’s back as you both tried to catch your breath. Sweat dripped down your bodies, filling the bedroom with intense heat, and your mind was slowly coming back from the clouds.

“How was that for your first fuck?” Aeri spoke with a grin.

You suddenly turned back to your shy self when you avoided eye contact. “I-I liked it”

She squished your cheeks until your lips pouted, leaning up to kiss it repeatedly. “That’s a thank you for fucking my brains out”

You didn’t say anything, clearly too shy and fucked out to even form a sentence.

“Hey Y/n…” Aeri called again, and this time you actually looked into her pretty eyes.

Wow, everything about her is pretty.

“Hm?”

“Usually after bringing people home to sleep with, I’d expect them out the house by early morning. But with you…” Aeri stopped her sentence to examine your face.

“I want you stay” she simply finished, tracing your lips with her thumb.

You reassured her with a smile.

A handsome smile.

You took her hand and kissed the back of her palm. “Let me treat you breakfast tomorrow. How does that sound?”

“Wow I didn’t expect that. Not only are you a loser in a hot body, but you also treat girls out to food after fucking the life out of them”

“Mmm I’m only willing to do it for pretty girls like you”

“Oh so you’ve taken out other girls before?”

“Uhhh no. You can be my first”

Aeri snuggled into your neck and chuckled. “I like the sound of that”

You let a beat pass before you tapped her shoulder. “I’m still inside you by the way”

“Ever heard of cockearming?”

[lowkeyerror]

Stars

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Notes: Requested, fluff, violence, soulmate au, enemies to lovers, a lil angst but not a tremendous amount

Summary: You're in the middle of a fight when Agatha notices your soulmate mark. She goes mia after that, leading you to track her down because... you miss her

An: Took awhile but I got it done. I have 1 or 2 more request before I get to the ones asking for more Help With The Curiculum & Instant Attraction but some more of both of those soon stay tuned.

Masterlist

Agatha was not a woman who often cared what fate had to say. She was not preoccupied with societies fascination surrounding soulmates. At least that’s what she would tell herself. She was busy doing whatever she wanted. Perhaps sometimes that meant tracing over the small star pattern on her wrist, thinking if she was really meant to be with someone.

“Would you at least pretend to be interested in the fight, Agatha?”

She found herself laid out on the ground as you stood across the trees from her. A scowl rests on her features as she shoots her magic at you.

“Could you just die already?”

You smirk at her, “You’d miss me too much if I did.”

“Do not flatter yourself.”

Agatha would never admit how much she enjoyed the banter between the two of you. There were sparks whenever you stood opposite of each other. Violent embers of her purple magic swept up in your elemental powers. It was more a challenge fighting you than other of her own kind. She couldn’t just drain your magic because your power was something entirely different.

You deflect her magic, redirecting it with the air. As you approach her, she keeps firing it at you. You’re used to her aggressive style of attack, so it does not stop your approach. Soon you’re nearly standing over her. She aims for your leg, leaving you no choice but to shoot up in the air. She takes that moment to stand.

It happens quicker than you expect and soon you’re being yanked down onto the floor. Agatha’s feet at your laugh, her dark cackle filling the air, you squirm in pain as you hit the forest ground.

Agatha squats down, so that you’re face to face. She’s a moment away from saying something snarky, but the words quickly die on her lips. She feels a pit in her stomach as her eyes lock on something behind your ear.

She’s quick to turn your head to the side, further pushing it into the ground. She moves your hair out of the way to make sure she is seeing things correctly.

“Get off of me,” it’s muffled of course.

Even if it wasn’t Agatha would’ve paid no mind to focus on the tiny stars littered behind your ears.

“Why get a tattoo here, where no one can see it doll?”

You try to break from her hold, but with her holding you down by your face, it was easier said than done. You huff in annoyance, “I don’t have tattoos. Now are we going to stay like this or are you going to let me kick your ass some more?”

For once in her life, Agatha is completely speechless. Instead of confronting what she has seen, she finds herself feeling nervous. Her enemy just had to be her soulmate as well. Did life ever get tired of testing the woman’s patience?

Agatha doesn’t say anything more, opting to just vanish. You were not used to abrupt ends to your encounters with Agatha, especially those of the silent variety. Agatha never left without getting the last word or knocking you unconscious.

As you got off of the ground, you looked around. Part of you wondering if this was some kind of trick. You called out her name to no response. Your hand traces over where her hand was pressing into your face. You felt hot under her touch, her gaze felt like it was setting you on fire.

Your hands move from your jaw to the spot at the back of your ear. You knew there were stars, but you had always had them. They had been there this entire time. So why had the witch taken a sudden interest? You didn’t understand, but you didn’t care enough to discover the reasoning. Plenty of people had some sort of weird unexplainable symbol on them, you just assumed it was a normal thing.

Agatha decided that day not to go near you. She didn’t want to deal with whatever this was supposed to mean. It was easy to ignore the stupid soulmate stereotypes before she knew who her soulmate was.

After seeing those stars all she could think about was you. It was painfully irritating for Agatha. She knew just enough about you to drive her crazy, but not enough to be satisfied. She knew what your hands felt like on her skin, she knew what kind of moans and groans slipped through your lips, she knew about the softness behind your eyes. The most important thing she knew was that you were too good for her. Maybe you weren’t an outright hero, but she was aware that your moral compass was on tighter than her’s would ever be.

You had an entire life ahead of you. A life that should afford you a family, a lover you age, kids, and someone that was less chaotic than she was. Agatha never thought she would be in love again, just because she knew her soulmate didn’t mean she would stop thinking that.

For you on the other hand life without Agatha was feeling a little too mundane. The woman wasn’t the only person you fought with, but you were finding out that she was the most exciting. Everyone else was too dull in comparison. No playful banter or skill bouts, just people equivalent to busywork. It was weird coming to terms with missing the woman.

Your mind was full of images of your previous encounters. No one had the heir that Agatha carried herself with. Everything with her felt electric. At first you chalked it up her power, but something about her was addictive. It was more apparent than ever since you’ve gone this long without seeing her.

“Alright, what's going on, you aren't even paying attention?”

You were spending the day off with your friend Kate. She was a little more on the good side than you were, but you grew attached due to the fact that you were constantly running into each other.

You stare at the archer, shrugging, “Haven’t seen Agatha in a while everything’s boring without her.”

“Awe you miss your villain, that’s cute,” Kate says sarcastically.

“I just have this feeling that she’s avoiding me.”

Kate sighs, “Fine we’ll play this game, I guess. Why would she be hiding from you, when she’s the bad guy?”

You pout, “I don’t know, last time she was being kind of weird about my stars.”

Kate’s eyes go wide, “Your soulmate mark.”

“My what now?”

“Your soulmate mark, Y/n. Does Agatha have the same marking?”

“I don’t-”

“Think harder,” Kate pushes.

You start to walk through your encounters with Agatha, trying to get a glimpse of her exposed skin in your mind. You can picture yourself on top of her, pinning her down at the wrist. There’s a moment where you can see the small stars on her wrist, and it has you reeling.

“I uh I think so, on her wrist,” you say slowly piercing together what Kate is saying.

“Oh fuck, she’s your soulmate,” Kate starts to freak out.

“That’s no- it can't be real. That’s not a real thing,” you speak.

Kate lifts her shirt, and you see a little flower on her ribs, “This is my mark, Yelena has the same one on her finger. It's like fate or whatever. Y/n it’s a big deal. Agatha is your soulmate.”

You shake your head, “No, no. Agatha and I are destined to be enemies, that’s it.”

Kate rolls her eyes, “Oh I miss Agatha, everyone else is boring. Her hair’s so cool, her skin’s soft, blah blah blah.”

Your face heats up, “Hey I don’t sound like that.”

“But you do and now it’s finally making sense. She probably saw it and now she’s avoiding you.”

“Is it really that big of a deal?”

“Yes dummy. Honestly, I don’t even know what you’re still doing here. You need to go find her.”

“For what?”

Kate looks at you as if you are an idiot, “To be together, duh.”

“She’s a bad guy Kate,” you try to reason.

“Ok, but you’re not exactly a hero yourself and plus we both know that you like the villains anyway.”

“But what if-”

Kate begins to push you out of the door, “Less, what if and more, telling me about it after you find her.”

“I don’t even know where to look,” you protest lamely.

“You’re literally a master tracker,” Kate deadpans.

That’s how you end up at a normal-looking house in the suburbs. You know Agatha’s inside; you could feel her. It’s something you couldn't explain before, but now you suppose it’s because of this whole soulmate thing.

You walk up to the front door, feeling yourself become uncharacteristically nervous. That cockiness that you usually had was nowhere to be found.

“Just ring the doorbell, Y/n,” you whisper to yourself.

You do as you tell yourself. You stand awkwardly with your hands in your pocket. When the door opens, Agatha is surprised to see you.

She hides it with a quip, “Since when do you do house calls?”

You struggle to find your own words. Your eyes dart down to her wrist, hidden by her long-sleeved shirt. She feels your gaze and her face heats up.

“Can I- can I come in?”

She steps aside and lets you into her home. You follow her into the living room. She takes a seat on a chair, and you sit on the couch across from her.

The silence is new. Your normal encounters are filled with bickering, charged energy, and fighting. There’s never been a quiet moment between the two of you.

“Are we going to just sit here are we going to talk?”

Your voice is unsure as you speak, “We can talk.”

“Well, you came to find me, Y/n,” she speaks defensively.

Your eyes snap to her’s, “Because you started hiding from me.”

“I- I wasn’t hiding, you aren't my only enemy,” Agatha rebuts.

“You aren’t mine either,” you repeat the sentiment.

Agatha sighs, “Why’d you come here?”

You look away, “I think you know why.”

“Who told you?”

“A friend, why didn't you tell me?”

Agatha feels herself getting frustrated, “When exactly was I supposed to do it? Before or after I knocked you on your ass.”

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly.

“No, fuck I’m sorry. I just- this isn’t something I’ve ever taken seriously, but it feels serious now. Especially knowing that it’s you, I don’t really know what to do here doll,” she was honest with you.

“Would you consider it?” You look anywhere but her eyes.

Agatha gets up from her spot on the chair to move next to you on the couch. She leaves space between you. She focuses in on her wrist, avoiding eye contact just as you had.

“Y/n, you’re young and at the end of the day, a good-hearted girl. I’m neither of those things. I don't want you to think because of these starts we have to be together.”

“Classic Agatha, you didn't answer my question,” you chuckle softly.

“Would you consider it?” She repeats your own question.

You scoot a little closer to her, “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You didn’t have-”

“I wanted to, I-I’ve missed you,” your hand is cautious as it reaches for her’s. She lets you grab it; your thumb slides down to her wrist, rubbing against the stars. You let yourself ramble, “I’ve been chasing other criminals and doing city patrols and it’s all so boring compared to you. You just have this… this energy around you. It’s always tugged at me, pulling me into deep water. I’ve always thought I’d drown in it.”

“You could,” she says watching your hands mingle.

“The thing is I don’t think I can. I control the elements.”

She finally looks at you, “Whatever metaphor you’re going for I don’t get it.”

You meet her gaze, “I’m not scared of doing this with you, Agatha. I want to try."

“You didn’t even know what this meant a few weeks ago,” she points out.

“I didn’t, but as soon as I found out, I came straight here.”

“Y/n I don’t know,” she tries to pull her hand away, but you don’t let her.

“Kiss me,” you say, finding your confidence.

“What?”

You lightly turn her head towards yours, “It’s what soulmates are supposed to do; keep up witch killer.”

For a moment you don’t think she’ll do it, but suddenly her hand leaves yours and she’s pulling you in by the face. Her lips smash against yours and you feel like you just got electrocuted.

She’s warmer than you expected. Her lips are softer than you thought. You find yourself yearning for more.

You’re no longer next to her, but on top of her as you continue to kiss. Getting lost in the moment was almost a given. Agatha breaks the kiss when a moan slips from her lips.

Her forehead rests against yours. Your chest heaves up and down, but your eyes stay closed.

“I’ve never felt anything like that in my life,” Agatha whispers.

You open your eyes to find her already looking at you, there’s something in her eyes that you haven't seen before.

Your thumb gently tugs on her bottom lip, “Try this with me Agatha.”

You think she’s going to deny you, instead she takes your hand in her’s kissing against your knuckles.

“Ok.”

[mysteria157]

Merry Christmas from my little corner at the @pixelcafe-network. Thank you so much for hosting this gift exchange! I had so much fun writing this for my elf @grimmweepers. Your Christmas list gave me the opportunity to write Sukuna for the first time. I wanted to lean as much into your likes as much as possible so that it feels like it's you in this story.

I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: True Form!Sukuna x Reader (Ryu)

Rating/CW: slight dark romance, fluff, implied sexual content, dark themes (references to violence, blood, destruction, and a hint of cannibalism because it's Sukuna). MDNI!

WC: ~8.5K

Summary: Sukuna gives in to mortal festivities, for the promise of a worthy gift, unaware that some traditions leave marks deeper than ancient power.

Divider: @cyberbeat @arminsumi @firefly-graphics | Masterlist

The winter night drapes itself across the ancient estate, stars scattered above like diamonds on black velvet. Fresh snow has transformed this formidable domain into something almost magical—though no amount of pristine white can truly soften the centuries of power that seems to pulse through every shadow of the grounds.

You used to take these walks alone, finding solace in the environment that gave way to the shifting change of the seasons. But now, on this chilly and almost silent night, your solitary footprints are accompanied by another. Deeper, more commanding treads belong to Sukuna, whose very presence seems to make the stars above burn brighter, as if they, too, acknowledge the power that moves beneath them, feeding off the cursed energy he emits with every breath.

Your exhale forms a frosty white cloud before vanishing into the night air. It’s cold, far too cold for a walk, but you’re out here to clear your thoughts, to quell the overwhelming urge to ask Sukuna a question that you don’t want to imagine the answer to.

The thought first emerged when fall gave way to winter, the autumn leaves replaced by the starkness of bare branches now hidden beneath blankets of snow. The thought of markets late at night adorned in yellow lights, of hot cocoa and gifts wrapped in red ribbon.

The words, having coiled behind your teeth for days like a spring, finally slink past your lips. “I was thinking…what if we celebrated Christmas together?”

“Christmas.” The word leaves his mouth not as a question, but as if it’s not worth inflection.

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting your rolling anxiety. He’s never been one for new things. This is his domain, after all—his home, his formidable walls that he has erected and ruled with an iron fist. The mere thought of anyone—let alone a mortal—suggesting something outside his design is almost laughable.

You pause in your footsteps, tracing his looming shadow in the snow before you look up at him. He’s tall, looming with a height that comes not from this realm, his silhouette dwarfing everything around him. While you are covered in furs and wool and warmth, he stands in a simple black Haori, barely covering his skin and open to show his chest.

The dark markings of his tattoos glow like black embers in the moonlight, each one a testament to the ancient power that pulses beneath his skin. Two pairs of muscular arms fold across his chest, large and thrumming with strength. An archaic strength that can level cities and destroy with little effort, yet those same fearsome arms cradle you with unexpected gentleness in the depths of night.

The fact that you understand this side of Sukuna, gives you the strength to press on.

“It’ll be our first Christmas together,” you press.

“A mortal festivity,” he claps back, naturally sharp but with little heat.

“I’m a mortal,” you counter, meeting his gaze head-on, refusing to back down from the menacing glare you can see right through. “And from what I remember, I am your Queen.”

Quadruple crimson eyes narrow from your truthful declaration, their glow cutting through the frost-laden air like embers in the snow. The two on the right gleam brighter against the rough texture of his half-petrified cheek, like jagged stone contrasting with smooth flesh on the other side. “You mistake indulgence for approval.”

You shrug, nonplussed, sniffing the chilly air up your runny nose. “Then indulge me. Mortals, like myself, put up Christmas trees, decorate their homes, bake treats, and watch movies.”

He hums, taking a step toward you. As he draws closer, the air shifts. While you have no cursed energy, you’ve come to know his intimately. It presses against your skin like an unseen force, electric and stifling, its movements mirroring the emotions he tries to smother. You’ve learned to read it like your favorite book, though it’s a story only you seem privy to, and you don’t intend to let him know.

“Indulge me?” you try again.

He remains unconvinced, his characteristic indifference plucking at your cold skin as you look up at him unflinching. It’s not like he denies you often. Sukuna, for as powerful as he is, gives to your many asks with a wave of his hand as if your happiness is unwarranted, even if his gaze flickers to you minutely for praise at haven catered to you.

Your confidence has only grown steadily, but that anxiety that curls around an ask still tastes sour. So you pull out another mental note card, a line you practiced in the mirror for days for this very moment.

“Gift-giving is also another tradition,” you sigh in faux nonchalance, pursing your dry lips as you try to ignore the flicker of curiosity you see on his face. The subtle tick of his jaw, the way one of his eyes tightens just so, the feel of his cursed energy pausing in its movements as if to hear you more clearly. “I know you’d never turn down any sort of offering. Especially from your Queen.”

Only seconds of anxious silence pass before that deep hum permeates the air, a gentle give. “You use that title often, Ryu.” You shrug again, biting the flesh of your cheek to suppress the victorious smile you can feel in your muscles. “Why must I wait for a specific day of the year to receive a gift? I can simply take what I want with little effort.”

His hubris knows no bounds. Neither does your perseverance.

“You put up with a few days of Christmas cheer, and I’ll make sure you get the best gift ever. Something wonderful and fitting for the King of Curses,” you promise, hoping to bring him home with your sales pitch. “But no griping.”

Sukuna scoffs, indignation heavy in the sound as he puffs white smoke into the air. “I do not gripe.” The look you throw him is unimpressed; one brow arched in a silent challenge that grants you a narrowed-eyed glare of concession in return. “Why do you assume you will get what you want?”

He reaches for you as he complains, and despite his sharp tone, you lean into the weight of his touch. You’ve come to know the language of his hands, each gesture a revelation of the complex nature he embodies. Like now, as he adjusts the furs draped around your shoulders—precious things hunted and skinned himself. His movements are deliberate, with hands impossibly gentle despite their proven capacity for destruction.

“Because you see me,” you whisper, the words soft but heavy with meaning. They carry the weight of something unspoken, a recognition of the four-letter word he is not yet ready to voice—your understanding of his care beneath his praise, his protection weaved into his possession.

A sales pitch now seems trivial, disrespectful even, in light of how the tone has shifted around you. Shame prickles at your skin, but it fades just as quickly, overwhelmed by the truth of your words. You do see him, even when he's being stubborn.

Sukuna’s answering hum to your question—to the anxious worry that started this conversation—reverberates through the air, an unspoken approval that settles in the space between you both.

Days later, the skies bloom with gentle hues of cotton candy—pale blue and pastel pink, slowly darkening as the sun peeks on the horizon. The dawn of winter greets you with its chilly embrace, its breath sharp and unrelenting, its touch frostbitten. You’re bleary-eyed as you shuffle over broken branches and moss-covered paths in the East forest.

The weight of your determination keeps you moving, even as your body protests, regretting your tenacity because why would Ryomen Sukuna, King of Curses, buy a tree when he can simply ‘get one from the backyard.’

“I like that one,” you offer, shakily pointing with a heavily gloved finger at a modest six-footer, its snow-laden branches slumping under the weight.

“If I’m to entertain a mortal festivity, it will not be done poorly.”

You’re far too cold to point out his first gripe of the day. His voice carries that familiar edge, but beneath it rests a note that only you can hear—the same careful attention he uses when observing the movements of his enemies, now turned to the expansive forest to the east of his estate.

You close your mouth around an exhale, your cheeks puffing like a fish in your own rendition of a pout as you follow him. The forest stretches silent and vast around you, a living extension of how far his power goes. Sukuna stops abruptly, still as stone as he surveys the trees with a menacing gaze. The dominance he exudes seems to make the air itself hold its breath. You’re simply a spectator—watching an apex predator stalk its prey—it would be a marvelous sight if you weren’t shaking like a leaf.

“This one,” he declares at last, voice carrying the familiarity of pride and authority as he looks up at a magnificent pine.

It’s uncharacteristically different in every way; a shadow brown trunk as thick as his waist, strong branches that house deep green needles, forming their own canopy over the other and covered in the white blanket of snow. Its towering height practically pierces the sky, a physical representation of how the being in front of you sees himself—ambivalent and all-seeing.

With a flick of two fingers, Sukuna’s Cleave technique slices cleanly through the thick trunk. The looming pine shivers, snow plopping from its arms in white globs before it slowly falls to the ground with a muffled thud. The wind that picks up from the disturbance tousles his pink hair, strands whipping against his marked face. One of Sukuna’s muscular arms grabs his prize and effortlessly hoists it onto his shoulder.

You can’t help but admire the broad expanse of his back. The curve and dip of muscle against black markings that shift with each movement, the skin warm to the touch despite how cold he makes himself seem.

The sight of him makes you think of his Christmas gift—your secret project—the fabric carefully chosen to embrace that strength with something just as enduring. You wonder if he will notice the details, the painstaking intricacy you’ve chosen just for him.

His gift is soon forgotten when his gaze falls on you, an unmistakable glint of satisfaction in his eyes. Carmine pools that invite you to step closer and gaze beneath its liquid, to see small slivers of vulnerability presented in the form of the pine on his shoulders. He’s waiting, expecting not praise for his strength, but praise for what he has provided. An offering.

You smile gently, genuinely, and without quivering despite the temperature. “I love it,” you compliment, watching as your words card over his offering like a caress that only fans the flames of his pride. His belly mouth curves into a smirk, chuffed in agreement with its host, white teeth glistening and ghostly breath puffing in steaming plumes.

He walks to you, thunderous steps shaking the forest floor but doing little to shake you, tucking and readjusting your furs once more before ushering you back to the estate, his unspoken need for you to get warm carving a smile onto your face.

In Sukuna’s vast estate, where shadows roam, and servants move with silent reverence, there is no room for joviality and merriment. He rules unflinchingly, with a face usually etched in disinterest and a heart that beats only in the throes of violence and battle. But since you’ve set foot in his domain that he keeps dark and teeming with fear, things have changed.

Now, the halls carry the scent of your vast perfume collection, a blend of smoky oud and earthy florals that linger in the air long after you pass. The servants, once bound by fear, now offer gentle smiles to the mortal who goes against the rules of this cursed realm.

Now, the shadows walk with you, satisfying your thirst for the paranormal as they follow you like a silent watchdog, a testament to the orders of their master—a being with four arms, four eyes, and a grudging acceptance of your presence.

Now, the mortal who carved her way into Sukuna’s domain with hardly a blink, the mortal who can see beneath his veneer of bleach-white bone and hardened blood…

Now… that mortal has decided to bring Christmas to these ancient halls.

Darkness now flickers with light. Pine garland decorates the windowsills in the expansive front room of Sukuna’s estate, its sharp scent striking through the air with every brush of your fingertips along its needles. The front room, what was once empty and meant only as a tunnel to another destination, is now lively from your touch.

A tall fireplace, its mantle wrapped in garlands of cypress and silk ribbons the color of deep red wine that reminds you of his eyes, casts a warm glow over goblet-red curtains that frame looming windows and fur-lined chairs that you curl into when you read your many books.

Sukuna has molded his domain to fit your silent requests. Your Christmas spirit that Sukuna continues to entertain if only for the promise of his reward, breathes life. His spoils—the cleaved pine—stands proudly by the fireplace, its branches wrapped in shining white lights and delicate ornaments.

Uraume was diligent, while unwilling to entertain anything pertaining to mortals, their loyalty outshines their disinterest when it comes to their Queen. Said loyalty shines in the snow that rests on each emerald branch, crystalline shimmers colored amber and orange from the roaring flames of the fireplace. Their technique ensures it will never melt, an ethereal touch of winter preserved.

You can’t help the warm smile that graces your features as you admire the transformed space. But it’s the scents wafting from the kitchen that draw you from your admiration. Cinnamon and nutmeg dance with something darker, a metallic tang that speaks to how well you’ve learned to blend your world with his.

Uraume, for as menacing as a curse user they are, has the cooking skills worthy of Michelin praise. The kitchen is their sacred domain but is now a battlefield of flour and spices, mortal and ancient alike. The heat from multiple ovens warms your bare toes, and copper pots and pans clank and steam with soluble renditions of a Christmas feast.

Sukuna’s dutiful servant moves about the kitchen with practiced ease, refusing help from the other cursed spirit-like servants in your presence no matter how many times you’ve insisted that you don’t mind.

“The consistency is correct,” Uraume observes, subtle praise in their soft tone as they nod toward the ruby liquid you’ve folded into dough. “Sukuna-sama will find it acceptable.”

You hide your smile at their careful choice of words. Months of coexistence have taught you to read the subtle ways in which Uraume expresses care—their meticulous attention to your recipes when cooking for you, your happiness from delicious meals enough to mask their fondness they will never admit to.

“We’re going to make gingerbread houses,” you exclaim an hour later to an indifferent Sukuna. His presence in the kitchen is rare, and you’ve had to ignore the peep of garbled eyes from cursed spirits who poke through the kitchen doors in disbelief before scuttling away in fear of being caught.

The counter is littered with cooled cutouts of gingerbread house walls, arches, and windows. White icing in pastry bags that will serve as glue and gumdrops to be adorned as paneling is the perfect setup for this small occasion between you both.

Despite Sukuna’s menacing demeanor, he is astute. It’s why he’s achieved the status he has now, why he’s feared among the world, both mortal plane and astral. So he wastes no time piecing together his own creation, his eyebrows creased in concentration fitting of a warrior planning a siege.

As Uraume flutters around you both, you recount the tale of Hansel and Gretel, Sukuna’s crimson eyes gleaming with interest at the more gruesome parts of the brothers Grimm.

“So this witch,” he muses, two hands delicately pipping white icing for a jagged wall, his other two hands covered in flour. “She devoured children who wandered into her domain.” His eyes twinkle with approval, his belly mouth curving into a devious smirk. “An acceptable response to trespassers.”

“She built the house to lure him in,” you add, swallowing a chuckle as you feel his cursed energy wiggle around you in interest. “That’s why it was made out of sweets.”

“Why did these children not become a proper meal?”

“They outsmarted her,” you explain, watching in muted supplication as his face drops from satisfaction to disapproval. “Pushed her into her own oven.��

His belly mouth scoffs, frowning as his thick tongue tastes the spiced air. “Mortals.”

As your special cookies perfume the air with metallic sweetness, you admire Sukuna as he works. He utilizes all four hands to guide his gingerbread creation to completion, clicking his teeth when a wall crumbles in his palms and humming in delight when the icing holds steady. Your gingerbread house lays half-created as you watch him, observing in silence until his masterpiece sits before you.

It’s a fortress—walls as imposing as a cathedral’s, windows designed to daze would-be escapees. The path to the door winds hypnotically, sugar-crystal steps that seem to pulse with cursed energy, leading young feet exactly where he wants them. The final touch? Miniature figurines made of pretzel sticks and marshmallows that are arranged at the front door like an offering.

“The witch’s failure was in her execution, not her concept,” he declares. Where normal gingerbread houses invite warmth, his promises something darker—a blend of Christmas tradition and Sukuna’s deadlier inclinations. “No child would think to check for a secondary barrier here.” He speaks as if defending a dissertation, pointing to the candy canes that could easily become weapons instead of the holiday cheer they should represent.

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your chest, soft and genuine, as you admire his evil architecture. Four eyes find you immediately, piercing in their gaze as if defensive, yet still holding something akin to wanting your approval. Your hand finds his marked cheek, fingers tracing the tattoos that mirror all over his body. He leans into your touch with imperial indifference, wary of Uraume’s presence in the kitchen but not indignant enough to deny your warmth.

“A domain worth of the King of Curses,” you praise, watching how his belly mouth curves into the wide grin that his master does not offer. It’s more than enough to know he’s satisfied.

“And why is yours unfinished?” Sukuna asks, crossing his arms in mock reproach despite the splattering of flour on his skin and Haori. “Surely, my Queen will make something of equal likeness.”

The oven behind you dings before you can reply, and Uraume retrieves your treat, the aroma rich and spiced. You slide the steaming plate between you, the burgundy cookies still piping hot and ready for him.

“I had other priorities,” you supply, blowing on your fingers before you offer a cookie to his belly mouth. It opens wide, tongue lolling to the side like a panting dog and already watering before you place the cookie on his taste buds. He chomps loudly, sharp teeth devouring the concoction of ginger, blood, and aged spices from Uraume’s private garden—a perfect blend of your world and his. His cursed energy warms, wrapping around your waist in approval as Sukuna throws cookies into his own mouth now.

“Is this my gift?” is all he asks, satisfied but ever impatient as he and his stomach finish the plate. You don’t resist the eye roll. “It’s a very acceptable gift. However, I wouldn’t have entertained Christmas if you only wanted to cook.”

“It’s not your gift Sukuna.” You wave him off, snatching the now empty plate before his belly mouth’s tongue can lick at the blood crumbs, another heaping plate taking its place that Uraume leaves. “And don’t try to guess. You won’t get very far.”

“Hm.” He leans back slightly, one of his hands reaching to dust flour from his forearm. You roll your eyes again, choosing instead to finish your gingerbread house while he sulks. “Then it must be something more…significant. Ancient scrolls, perhaps? Found deep within forgotten temples, imbued with curses?” His voice drips with mock curiosity as if daring you to reveal even the slightest clue.

You snort, pausing mid-pipe to give him a flat look. “First of all, ancient scrolls? Really, Sukuna?” His belly mouth grumbles at being ignored, lips covered in a red dusting of cookie smacking for more. “Second of all, what would I be doing roaming around a temple? This isn’t the Heian era, despite how much you like to talk about it.”

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly, more intrigued than annoyed by your commentary. “So I am wrong?”

“Completely,” you answer, biting back another laugh as you return to your task of piping green icing along a gingerbread wall to resemble bushels of grass. “Do you think your gift revolves around curses and destruction?”

“Why wouldn’t it?” he counters smoothly, his tone smug and his gaze unwavering.

You roll your eyes for what feels like the nth time in only so many minutes, feeling the warmth of his cursed energy curling around your waist again, tugging at you like a child pulling his mother’s sleeve for attention. “Just eat your cookies and stop guessing, Sukuna. You’re nowhere close.”

His belly mouth snickers as Sukuna throws another cookie into it, but his narrowed gaze lingers on you as if memorizing every shift in your expression, every subtle movement of your hands, waiting for you to slip. You have a feeling that even though Christmas is only days away, his curiosity will make it seem like an eternity.

As he often says, Sukuna indulges for you quite often. Trivial mortal instruments meant to stave off your boredom. He tells himself it’s for his own peace, to keep you from pestering him in the throne room, even though he still searches for you and longs for your presence in his lap.

One of those mortal instruments? A television. He knows what they are but has never been bothered to pay attention—an invention he dismissed as frivolous and mind-numbing. The flickering screen is often a source of laughter and comfort on one of your sleepless nights, and though he swore to never sit beside you while it played, here he is. On Christmas Eve. Reclined casually on the expansive sofa in your chambers, a disdainful sneer aimed at the annoying mortal known as ‘Buddy the Elf’, judgment radiating from his very being.

“Ryu, you cannot possibly enjoy this,” he huffs, one hand picking at nonexistent lint on his linen pants, another draped over the back of the couch, and one more cradling your soft form against him.

“Elf is a Christmas tradition!” You insist, handing a heaping hand of buttery popcorn to his belly mouth who accepts with a please grumble. Unlike Sukuna, who prefers a more…carnivorous diet, his belly mouth will eat almost anything it is fed. You chuckle softly, laying your head on his naked chest as you both watch Buddy decorate the department store into a winter wonderland. "I love it."

“He trespasses into their domain and then defiles it. Disgusting.”

“I thought you agreed not to grumble.”

“I never agreed.”

You hide your smile in the warmth of Sukuna’s side, breathing in the familiar aroma of burnt incense that clings to his skin, grounding and intoxicating. The movie plays on, you enjoying, while Sukuna analyzes each scene with the precision he’d use to raze a village. He won’t admit what he’s been reduced to—a powerful being indulging in idiotic entertainment to please the mortal lady of his estate. All for a gift that he cannot guess.

You trace idle patterns on his marked arm. Each touch makes his cursed energy flutter beneath your fingertips, electric kisses on your skin that he pretends not to notice. These are the moments you love most—when the fearsome King of Curses allows himself to simply…exist beside you, his pride softened by the peace you often bring.

“A weapon,” he says suddenly, his voice cutting through Buddy and Jovie’s shower singing.

You blink, craning your neck to look up at him. “What?”

He gestures expectantly to the room around him. “You’ve found a weapon worthy of my domain.”

You should have known the moment he stopped complaining about the movie that his attention had drifted. The fact that this is what he is thinking about makes warmth bloom in your chest. “Are you guessing?”

“I do not guess,” he insists, glowering at the television to avoid looking at you, his curiosity-tinged cursed energy betraying him. “I deduce.”

A weapon would be fitting for someone like him—his strength, his dominance, his endless hunger for power. But it’s a far cry from what he will get. You throw more popcorn into your mouth to stop yourself from laughing at just how wrong he truly is.

He’s silent only for a moment before he adds. “Why must I wait until tomorrow, when you can simply tell me now?” His logic is, as usual, rooted in authority and impatience. You chew another handful of popcorn deliberately, ignoring him as you keep your eyes glued to the screen.

Not even five minutes pass before one of his large hands brushes against the nape of your neck. His fingers card through your hair, tugging the strands—not enough to hurt, but enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You know what he’s doing. His touch feels like a predator sneakily luring in prey. You know this game—this is Sukuna feigning boredom because he’s curious, using seduction to coax you when you’re being stubborn. It’s as effective as it is dangerous. But this time, you’re prepared.

“If you’re going to ignore the movie,” you trail off, your voice a mix of seductive challenge and amusement. You twist in his lap to straddle his waist, sliding your hands up his chest, tracing your fingers around his nipples in slow, deliberate circles. He does not react, at least not on his face. But you can feel the imperceptible jut of his hips, feel his cursed energy hum up your calves, and wrap around your body like a warm fog.

“I know of something else we can do.” You’re suggestive, voice dropping to the pits of your stomach as your lips brush along the sharp edge of his jaw. The shift in power is immediate, and exactly what you want. His hands tighten on your waist, head tilting slightly, giving you better access to lavish him with praise.

“Is that so?” His voice is pitched low, heady already. “Anything is better than this drivel.”

You roll your eyes as you fall back on the sofa, your body arching under his touch as he pulls you closer. Your hand slides lower, tracing the edge of his haori where it hangs loose against his skin.

“You’re impatient as usual,” you whisper, nipping lightly at his neck. “But you’ll wait this time. Won’t you?”

His eyes narrow as if in protest. But he doesn’t answer—not with words, at least. Instead, his hands roam your body, each touch firm and possessive. You grin against his skin, knowing you’ve managed to distract him…at least for now.

“A temple,” his voice rumbles through the darkness, shaking you from the deep edges of sleep. His massive form curves around you possessively, his warmth seeping into your skin. Both of you lie tangled in the aftermath of your earlier indulgences—the sofa, the wall, and, finally, the silk sheets of his bed. All bearing witness to his insatiable need for you.

“Mmm?” you mumble, still trying to pull yourself awake.

“Built in my honor,” he elaborates without repeating himself, shaking you again with a harshness that makes you yelp and throw a glare over your shoulder. He smirks to himself as if he’s finally solved the mystery. “That is my gift.”

You groan, burying your face in your pillow, but secretly relishing in the way he can’t seem to let this go. Rolling over halfway, you peek up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. The moonlight creates a shimmering backdrop, outlining his form with silver, blood-red eyes gleaming with determination. For someone who claims to have no interest in mortal traditions, he’s relentless about this one.

“You woke me up to guess….again,” you grumble, glaring at him through a half-open eye.

“I do not guess,” he starts, ready to repeat the same phrase from hours ago. “I simply—”

“Deduce, yes, I got that the first time.” You cut him off and surge up to give him a kiss, feeling his surprise for only seconds before he melts into your affection. “Go to sleep.”

“A secret text,” he murmurs against your lips, undeterred even as his arms pull you closer. “Written in blood.”

You grimace before answering with your lips on his again, your leg curling around a thick waist, ready to use the ammo from your arsenal just like a few hours ago. “Do I need to distract you again?” you ask, lifting an eyebrow.

The midnight air watches with bated breath as Sukuna rolls on top of you, his towering frame rousing the tingle between your legs.

“I know your method of distraction,” he whispers against the skin of your neck. His belly mouth kisses the skin of your inner thigh, licking its lips at the promise of what you might offer if you’re willing. “Considering you are no novice, one might think that you keep secrets from your King often.”

Your affronted laugh dissolves into a sigh as both stomach and Sukuna adorn your skin with wet kisses—one along the vein of your pelvis while the other works at the skin behind your ear. “O-one might think,” you manage, gasping as his mouth finds the pulse in your neck, “that my King is simply impatient for Christmas morning.”

“It is already past midnight,” he growls at the feel of your touch drifting lower, his cocks already throbbing and oozing precum. “Merry Christmas.”

“A proper Christmas morning!” you correct with a chortle, smacking his chest playfully. He hums noncommittally, the sound vibrating through you both, possessive and yet tender in a way that only you are privy to. “A few more hours. Let me wake up properly.”

With those final words, you promptly roll over, denying him any more sensual touch that could ignite the early morning. Sukuna, used to your defiance, simply grumbles at your withdrawal, choosing instead to press searing kisses along the naked skin of your back. They ignite the embers in your belly but are not persistent enough to tempt you further.

“A domain expansion,” he insists, inhaling the perfume at the dip of your spine, lips brushing the soft skin there.

“I can’t even do that.” Your voice is heavy, the dredges of sleep finally pulling at your consciousness.

“More blood cookies.”

You remain silent, using his solemn guesses as music to lull you back to sleep.

Sukuna can feel your presence even deep in sleep, his cursed energy wound tightly around you like a second skin, always attuned to your warmth, your breath, the way you shift beneath the covers. So when that connection shivers—when his energy touches only empty space—his crimson eyes snap open. Your side of the bed is still warm, a ghost of you lingering on his silk sheets.

He can still feel you in the estate, so he rises slowly, surveying his chamber. He takes in the transformation--the pine and silk ribbons that are around the mantle now present in his chambers, and the smell of cider and blood cookies that still wafts in the air around him. Resting along one wall is a beautiful vanity carved from marble with obsidian-lined mirrors and velvet surfaces adorned with your plethora of fragrances. The table near his window is littered with books, a speaker—another mortal instrument—rests quietly, no classical music that you enjoy playing.

His room—once untouchable, dark, and sacred—is now infused with you. It should feel like a violation, his personal sanctum defiled with the touch of a mortal. And yet.

His body is no longer cold in the halls because you thrive in warmth. His servants may bow in fear to him, but they smile at you. Shadows, once tools of terror, are now a source of protection and amusement, a manic gleam of fascination with the otherwordly preventing you from being fearful.

His emotions are still a mystery, but slowly unfurling like petals that have been sleeping for many winters. Anything besides strength and power, besides determination and tenacity are weak—should be weak. But you feel these emotions plenty, and to Ryomen Sukuna, you are far from weak.

The soft yellow lights from the pine tree spill against the floor, welcoming his bare feet as he enters the large living room that has come to life because of you and for you. He won’t admit it out loud, the pride that surges through his chest like a rushing wave when he looks at the tree. A pagan symbol meant to honor a god that is not himself, willingly brought into his domain by his own hand, a rare sight in his forest that only his eye could catch. He cleaved it. He carried it upon his shoulders. He cupped the approval in your eyes like water in a shallow pool in a drying desert, sacred and coveted.

His efforts have become yours, decorated in tinsel and ornaments, in obnoxiously bright lights and snow that will never melt. And you sit next to it, your silhouette glowing against the roaring fireplace, your gaze looking up at what he’s allowed you to have. You noticed his presence long ago, but you remain transfixed with the tree, a soft smile gracing your features as he draws closer.

“It is far too early,” he rumbles, his voice gentle but heavy in the silent Christmas air. “Come back to bed.”

You huff in reply, not bothering to offer words even as he sinks down next to you. His arms crossed over his chest, his legs folding in to sit with grace on the fur-covered floor. This close, he can smell another fragrance that you collect, a smoky Oud that coats your skin like a second skin.

It’s one of his favorites, yet another thing he will not admit, but you know. You know from the way he buries his face in your neck at night, his chambers shrouded in darkness beside the slanting of moonlight on his sheets, his cursed energy caressing your skin in appreciation.

“It’s a great tree, you know,” you sigh, wistfully. You hope to keep the tree up and lit long after Christmas passes. It’s a wonderful sight, a depiction of a past life before you became aware of the unknown, of curses and spirits, sorcery and realms besides Heaven and Hell. To see it now, in the domain of a powerful king, shining brightly as if the one who cut it down did not have four arms and eyes. “It’s strong…resilient.”

“Of course it is. Who do you take me for?” he snaps, tone not holding any heat as his sharp gaze looks at you from head to toe. He leans imperceptibly into you when you laugh, a sound that shakes from your robe-covered chest and into the warm air, the shadows catching it as if they are fireflies in the night.

You finally pull your gaze from the tree, looking to Sukuna and he refuses to let you hear the hitch in his breath. He refuses to tighten his jaw or let you hear the click of bone as he fights the urge to openly bask in your gaze. “I have something for you.”

You grab a box beneath the tree, the only object that decorates the skirt. You’re climbing into his large lap before he can protest, willingly invading his space without fear of the consequences. For others, a swift death. For you, a subconscious shift in his form, one of his arms falling behind you and hitching along your hip to steady you on his thigh.

“I hope you like it,” you muse, shrugging with indifference to shield your anticipation. “I know "human sentiments" are not your specialty.”

The hands not holding your back trace along the red ribbon, silky soft and tied neatly by you. But before you can push the box more insistently into his hold, his hands slide under yours, firmly stilling your movements.

One of his hands reaches behind his back, his form shifting closer before he presents you with his own box. It’s smaller than yours, crafted in dark, polished wood, the flames from the fireplace glimmering along the surface.

“How can I let you meddle and not have anything to counter it with?” It’s all Sukuna offers, tone low and edged with something warmer than usual. He places the box in your hands, his gaze heavy on your face as though waiting for a reaction. Truly, the thought of him getting you something had not crossed your mind. Sukuna seemed more than willing to put up with your holiday antics if only to get something in return. So the weight of the box in your hands, cool against your palm, feels substantial.

Your fingers tremble as you lift the lid, the dark wood creaking softly. Nestled inside a bed of rich blue velvet, is something that steals the breath from your lungs. It gleams against the firelight as you pick it up, its crystal surface refracting shards of gold and crimson that dance across your body. The shape is elegant yet otherworldly, the surface etched with markings that you’ve come to see throughout his estate. A stopper made of black Onyx crowns it, carved into a teardrop that you pinch and pull to open.

The scent curls into the air, smoothing beneath your nostrils in a delicate yet commanding embrace. It’s sharp at first, with notes of what you recognize as juniper and lemon, fresh and crisp like the frost that curls on the windows in your chamber. You’re an expert in fragrance, so it doesn’t take you long to detect the undercurrent of bergamot and pepper, adding an edge that’s reminiscent of Sukuna’s power—lurking beneath the surface.

It seems as if the notes are never-ending. Pine needles and incense weave into a rich, earthy warmth, like the forest you both walked through to cut down the decorated pine that rests behind you. Amber and balsam provide a sweetness that lingers with its base notes and a touch of vanilla. Finally, the richness of cinnamon adds a spicy conclusion, as if kissing your skin before it fades into the morning air.

“You didn’t,” you begin, mouth suddenly dry, your eyes quite the opposite. “You made this…?”

“Do you think anyone else could, Ryu?” he counters, his tone holding a rare softness that you wish you were more levelheaded to preserve forever. A hand not resting on your back drifts along your shoulder blades, caressing in a mixture of observance and reverence. “It is yours.”

Like everything else in this domain.

That is what he wants to add. Is what curls at the tip of his tongue. But he uses your fluttering eyelashes to distract that urge that throbs in his chest. Uses the sight of you resting the perfume carefully back in its velvet encasing before closing the wooden box as if it might break.

“It’s beautiful,” you finally whisper, uncaring of how shaky you sound. The gift is uniquely Sukuna, deeply reflecting his essence but still having you in mind. “Thank you.”

He offers that characteristic hum, rumbling through your body and clenching around your heart with a force he’s not yet ready to acknowledge. His belly mouth curves into a smug grin, but his eyes are still on you as if searching for something.

“Another example of my indulgence that you mistake for generosity.”

The way his cursed energy hums around you, warm and protective, tells you otherwise. And it only serves to make you laugh, finally wiping the tears from your cheeks and gently setting the wooden box on the fur rug beneath you both.

“Uh huh,” you tease, snickering at his frown you can see right through. You finally pick up your box, the surface warmed by the fire, now resting in his hands. The teasing air around you both falls to the wayside, hushed anticipation taking its place.

He’s spent days pestering you about what he would get, and now, with you on his lap and his massive hands cradling the box with unexpected gentleness, his curiosity morphs into something else. A prize he’s excited to have and now afraid to open. Not in fear—Sukuna has no room for fear—but in anticipation.

It takes everything in you not to snatch the box and open it yourself, but eventually, he does, and the purse of his lips and the narrowing of his eyes fall before you like a book as old as time finally opening.

The silk is as dark as the shadows that roam these halls, shimmering like oil in water as it slides along Sukuna’s thick fingers. To anyone else, the material would simply be silk. But to Sukuna, he can feel the cursed energy that pulses along it, no doubt stitched together with a cursed thread strong enough to embrace him and yet still soft to the touch.

You had no way to conjure or control cursed energy to weave into the fabric, so you had to turn to Uraume for help. Their frosty hands had guided yours, harnessing the cursed energy necessary for you as you wove the threads, ensuring the haori could hold the weight of Sukuna’s power while remaining as delicate as the intentions behind it.

The silk mirrors the intricate markings on his skin, its edges dyed in gradients of shadow and blood.

“It’s a Haori,” you finally speak, soft and given space so he can observe his gift without hurry. “It’s all you really wear, so I thought crafting something of my own would be….nice.”

Words gather on his tongue, and then scatter like leaves in a storm, too feeble to express the weight of what he feels. He knows that a simple hum of approval won’t be enough—not this time. Not for you. But as he readies himself to speak, opening his mouth just so, his breath catches when he looks inside one of the sleeves.

The inner lining is adorned with ancient symbols sewn in patterns only he would recognize, the same ones you’ve felt him trace in the air around you when he thinks you’re sleeping, offering protection for when he cannot be near you. They shimmer faintly, their glow deepening in the shadowed folds of silk and fading when touched by light—a testament to the darkness he commands and the solace he finds within it.

“Ryu—”

“At least put it on,” you interrupt, voice slightly shaky and betraying your exposed nerves. You hold the garment delicately, taking it from him and helping each arm through the sleeves. The silk moves like smoke around his massive form, designed to accommodate while maintaining the elegant lines that befit a being of his stature. Your eyes are on his skin, focused on the hem of his lapels as you trace over it and rest your hand on his chest.

“There,” you whisper, smiling but not looking up at him. His heart is steady beneath your palm, not fluttering like a bird in a cage, and you’re not sure whether to be upset that your gift doesn’t make his heart race. “It looks good on you.”

It fits him perfectly and thrums with a warmth that echoes the temperature blooming in his chest. That three-letter phrase—that elusive word that’s made his lip curl in disgust since the beginning of time, now pounds in his ears from the garment that sits on his skin.

It’s not just a garment—it’s an acknowledgment of who he is in his truest form, a declaration that you see his beauty in both his power and his evolution. The way it drapes over his marked skin, how it seems to pulse with its own life in response to his cursed energy—these details speak to your understanding of him, how you’ve learned to…love both the demon and the subtle changes your presence has wrought in him.

“You see me,” he finally speaks, uncharacteristically hushed. You see him—demon and protector, destroyer and creator, ancient force and the being who has learned to nestle mortal joy in hands only meant for destruction.

They’ve always been directed at you. Not from him. He’s never said them before. He’s never really known how, and part of him has always been envious of how the words can fall so effortlessly from your lips.

He’s never said them before. And yet now, at this moment, it feels like if he doesn’t act, the opportunity will be lost forever, forced down into the pit of his belly for who knows how long.

You hold your breath when you feel one of his hands cradle your cheek, massive enough so that his fingers card through your dark hair.

“And I see you, Ryu.”

The words feel like a promise. Like they will probably be rare but will only hold more and more weight as time goes by. And that’s okay for you. To be in his presence. To open him up and show him that he is capable of something gentle enough to hold you. That’s your gift that you will never need to wait until the 25th of December for.

His belly mouth is unusually silent, but his cursed energy tightens around you like a caress. Warm and vibrating, a protective weight that will remain around you for as long as you breathe. It speaks volumes that his pride won’t quite let him voice.

You lift a hand to rest on his cheek, tracing along the smooth skin that gives way to the rough texture that wraps around his right side. His two eyes on this side are more narrowed, encapsulated in the hard surface around it but still oozing dominance that could make others cower and definitely not come closer like you do. You cup his jaw before finally meeting his gaze—soft meeting a harshness that will never affect you, love meeting the beginnings of the same that linger beneath crimson pools.

“I see you too, Ryomen.”

The sound of his name makes his chest tighten, the organ behind his sternum pounding irregularly for only a second before falling back in line. His given name is forbidden for any who wish to speak it in likeness—he will only tolerate the name ‘Ryomen’ if it is wrapped in fear, or if it falls from your lips.

The silence lingers for what feels like forever, his hands holding you on his lap while he lets you map his face. Your heart flutters, happiness pulsing through your veins with every beat, cataloging every aspect of this moment in your mind forever.

“There is one mortal tradition,” he finally muses, his voice carrying that particular note of mischief that always makes your breath catch, “that I find…acceptable.”

It’s the kind of tone that usually follows lips along your skin and hands between your thighs, reminiscent of a man who can only bask in vulnerability for moments before shifting to something heady and tinged with lust.

Before you can question his motives, one of his hands lifts to hover above you both. His cursed energy manifests between his fingers, dark and potent, morphing itself into something that makes you snort in delighted surprise. Dark tendrils grow slowly from the mass of energy between his fingers, twisted and mangled to form branches, its leaves pitch black with berries that gleam like drops of blood.

A twisted version of mistletoe, the only representation that would be acceptable to someone like Sukuna.

“Of course, you’d make it look menacing,” you tease, giggling softly as his other arms draw you closer to his chest. His belly mouth snickers from below you, ready to join his host in whatever is planned. One of your fingers traces the metal of his gauges, your eyes narrowing in playful indifference.

“Then I advise you to have one ready for next year.”

Your heart stops, lungs seizing in your chest as the words tunnel into one ear and out the other. Next year. The idea hangs in the air, fragile and precious—proof that even Ryomen Sukuna, with all his arrogance and dominance, is willing to entertain a future with you.

The mistletoe pulses above you, casting reddish shadows across your faces, and you don’t need to think any longer as you lean in to slide your lips along his. His hands widen the expanse of your back, your robe slipping off your shoulders to hang in the crevice of your elbows, the heat from the pulsing mistletoe spreading over your chest. The naked feel of you against his torso pleases him, and beneath the prideful smirk against your mouth, beneath the snicker from his belly, you taste that four-letter word in his mouth, siphoning as much of it as you can before you pull away and rest your forehead against his.

“Merry Christmas,” you whisper against his lips, your body warming even further despite the heat from the fireplace.

He offers that hum—that characteristic hum that means so much.

Acquiescence.

Agreement.

I see you.

The mistletoe falls to the floor, crunching beneath your weight as Sukuna lays you on the fur, hands tracing your waist, sliding along your spine, hiking your legs around him. He doesn’t speak, content to admire you beneath him—a mortal without cursed energy who loves perfume, the paranormal, and classical music. A mortal who hates spiders, but loves Gothic architecture, monsters, and the many books that line his walls.

A mortal who has crawled beneath his skin and nestled there, unwilling to leave. And he’s too ashamed to admit that he gave up trying to pry you from inside of him a long time ago.

You throw your arms around his neck, impatient and tired of his staring, carding your fingers through deceptively soft pink hair to pull him down so that you can once again honor this particular tradition—one that, like everything else between you, has been transformed into something uniquely yours.

Merry Christmas, @grimmweepers !!!!

[redsrooftopprincess]

I have just had this idea for Bayverse Raph and female reader.

I want to see a chapter on how the reader has cute awkward moment. Walking into the lair thinking all of them are out on a mission, only thing is Raph is there just in the gym.

Then I give you permission to work with this as its a writing experience.

Work your magic!

Awkward

Raphael x GN!Reader

It's the middle of the night and you expect the lair to be empty. You're bringing a fresh batch of tea to Master Splinter. You'd picked up his favorite at a small shop in Chinatown that afternoon.

You expect all the boys to be out on patrol, so you're surprised when you hear music, and see a light on in the weight room. You drop the tea on the kitchen counter, next to the kettle, and head in that direction.

He's lifting. Laying on the bench modified to accommodate their shells, and musing about how funny it is that while he used to look forward to the quiet of his nights off, now he'd much rather have an excuse to come visit you.

You only met recently, a few months ago, but he's been stopping by for a break in the middle of patrol occasionally, and occasionally was starting to evolve into frequently.

He sets his weights down and takes a break, grabbing a bottle of water and walking over to the mirror. He stretches his arm, looking down the length of his tricep in the mirror.

His workouts are half mental, half medical. Mental because it's when and where he thinks the best. In a way, it's almost like he can physically put his thoughts in order with every push of the bar. Medical because his shell is just too damn heavy.

Turtles aren't meant to walk on their hind legs, and even with their mutated forms, their spines can only take so much. Raphael may not be the tallest, but he is the biggest of his brothers, in sheer mass, by a large margin. He was made for close quarter combat, a thick hide and a dense shell ready to tank any abuse thrown at it. It was a heavy burden. Literally.

Besides all that, he just enjoys it. Leo used to call him vain. The way he would look at himself in the mirror, finding every last detail of his physique that could be improved, and busting his ass until he was satisfied. He isn't vain, at least he doesn't think he is. He just doesn't have a lot else about himself he can be proud of.

So, on his nights off, he doubles his workouts and uses that time to think through whatever is going on inside his head. Lately, it's been you.

You're new. It usually took him a while to get comfortable with new. There was always an adjustment period. But he took to you almost immediately. It's something he's not used to and... he doesn't hate it.

You're sweet. Kind. And you didn't scream upon first meeting, which initially made him question your sanity. You're sharp and sassy and can keep up with him talking shit. Brilliant and clever and ready to jump into whatever their weird lives are throwing at them. All of that, and on top of everything, you are SO hot. Fuck. It's actually unfair.

Climbing the stairs to the weight room, 50 Cent is shouting a song from the speakers that really, really doesn't help your rocketing heart rate when you stop in the doorway.

Oh wow.

In nothing but his harness, black sweats with red kanji emblazoned down the left leg, and hand wraps, he's flexing in the mirror, and your mouth has gone dry.

He's beautiful. You've thought so from the start. But Raphael is a *big dude*. You've known many *big dudes* in your life, and if there's one thing you know about *big dudes* it's that they hate being noticed, because they're always the ones you notice first.

Compliments are something that need to be worked up to. Especially in his case. There is so much trauma around his physical appearance, that one wrong move could set you back further than the beginning.

You've started with observations. Things like asking about his scarification and tattoos. If you could get him comfortable talking about his body, maybe one day you could tell him how much you appreciate it in a way that he would not only accept, but believe.

Mentioning his body at all is still a hit or miss situation, but the hits are becoming more frequent and, Gods, you love how cute and bashful this giant reptile gets talking about himself. Like he's embarrassed there might be something about himself that he likes.

But, holy fuck is he beautiful.

You can't help it. Your eyes wander a path over his form, scaling every mountain and ravine of his otherworldly vista. Raphael is a mountain made flesh and you've never gone mountain climbing, but it looks really fun.

He smirks, pleased with the results of his latest inspection, and relaxes his arm. His gaze falls on you in the doorway behind him, and he startles, turning around quickly. "Oh! Hey!"

"Oh! Hi!" you say, a blush blooming on your cheeks. Did he catch you staring? You laugh nervously, "Sorry, I didn't think anyone was here."

"Oh, no, it's cool..." he says, "my night off." Holy shit she's here. Okay, be cool, you were just missing her, and she's here now. That's a good thing. Right?

"Oh... Cool."

"Yeah."

"..."

"..." The plastic water bottle crinkles in his hands as he fidgets.

"I was just bringing some tea to your dad."

"Oh, he's asleep by now."

"I figured."

"..."

"..."

You're used to having home field advantage, but you're on his turf now, and suddenly you don't know what to do. You usually invite him in for coffee and busy yourself with something while you hang out and chat. It's always easier for you to talk to new(ish) people when you're doing something, but this time you're the guest, and your only task has already been completed.

You're here. In the lair. With him. Alone. He's not really used to "guests," let alone beautiful ones that he totally isn't crushing on, shut up.

"Okay... Well, I'm... gonna head home," you gesture vaguely over your shoulder, "Enjoy your night off!" You smile brightly, cringing *hard* on the inside. Gods, you're so fucking awkward.

Shit! No!

"Wait," he takes a step toward you, hand outstretched. That sounded desperate. Did that sound desperate? Fuck it, he's desperate. Don't leave. "You know..." Be cool... he slows down and clears his throat, "If you got nowhere to be, do you... want to watch a movie or something?" He tries really hard to keep the hopeful edge out of his voice. He fails.

A grin splits your face. Really? Really really? "Yeah! Sure!" you say, nodding, almost bouncing, "I'd love that!"

He grins back, his stomach doing somersaults, "Cool... I guess I'll grab the snacks... you pick the movie?"

"Okay!" You say, actually bouncing.

You spend the night watching movies, talking, and telling stories, without the looming deadline of him having to go back to work. Without having to rush things, you find you that you have a lot more in common than you thought. A deep love of terrible action movies being one of those things, and you make it through several. After The Transporter, you fall into what feels like a natural rhythm, missing most of the remaining movies entirely in favor of conversation.

Michaelangelo is the first to make it home, and finds the two of you asleep on the couch. Equilibrium is playing on the giant television, Raphael's arm is wrapped around you, and you are cuddled into his side under one of the many oversized hand knitted blankets scattered about the lair.

Mike snaps a photo for future leverage, and goes to take a shower.

Tag list

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From Red's Lifting Playlist:

...

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @daedric-sorceress @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @milykins

[teapartyprincess4two]

your writing is sooo good! i NEED a johnnie smut omg please write one💞

Monster- J. Guilbert

pairing: Extrovert!reader x Shy!Johnnie

classification: SMUT w/ a plot

inspiration: request^^, Monster by Lady Gaga

warnings: 18+, MDNI, literal sex, use of y/n, dom!Johnnie (kinda), “slut,” alcohol use, slight cursing, Jake and Tara are dating in this

summary: Tara plays matchmaker, earning Johnnie the night of his life with you in a bar restroom.

—

Johnnie’s been watching you all night, but he’s waiting for the alcohol to settle into his bloodstream before he finally walks up to you. You sit at the bar in a black, backless dress that allows a few of your tattoos to peak through. Bouncy curls are swept onto your shoulder, framing one side of your face as you chat with the bartender.

“Gonna keep staring or are you finally gonna make a move?” Jake nudges Johnnie’s shoulder.

Nights out like this are common for the pair, especially when living a fast paced life in the city of Los Angeles. When they’re not filming or editing, they’re usually out getting drunk, and they’ve managed to creat regular rotation of bars.

Today they find themselves at the Magic 8 Ball, the least crowded bar in L.A on a Friday night. No matter what unfamiliar faces that fill this place, though, yours is always constant. Every Friday, without fail, you saunter in and take a seat at the bar.

Johnnie can tell, just from watching you, that you’re an extrovert. You never seem to stay at the bar, you always wander onto the dance floor and lure a random stranger in for a quick bop around the room.

That’s what intimidates him, because as an introvert he’s not sure he’ll be able to keep up.

“I’m not staring,” Johnnie quips quickly, taking a swig of whatever alcoholic mixture swirls in his glass. He hisses as the liquid goes down.

If it were just Jake and Johnnie, the conversation would’ve died there. But tonight Tara joined them and she isn’t so adamant on letting the topic go.

“You should invite her to sit with us! You never know what could happen,” she prods teasing fingers into Johnnie’s sides, “plus she looks nice! I need a girlfriend to hang out with!”

“Johnnie needs a girlfriend, Tara. Not you,” Jake jokes. Johnnie rolls is eyes, scooting away from Tara as her fingers continue digging into his sides.

“I’ve had a girlfriend,” Johnnie replies, eyes darting back to where you sit at the bar.

“Yeah, had,” Jake says.

“It’s just hard to—“

“ALRIGHT! Enough!” Tara interrupts Johnnie mid sentence, slamming her hands onto the table as she stands up. “If you won’t make a move, I will,” she says, shimmying out of the booth.

Johnnie’s eyes are blown open in shock. He tries grabbing Tara before she can get too far, but she’s small and sneaky.

“That’s one way to do it,” Jake laughs, watching in amusement as his girlfriend does what his best friend doesn’t have the balls to do.

Johnnie, on the other hand, watches in horror.

There you are, sipping on your drink and chatting with the bartender, blissfully unaware of Tara’s approaching figure.

Tara sits at the bar, taking the seat directly next to yours. She interrupts your conversation with the bartender to order two drinks, one for you and one for her, before swiftly turning her attention to you with a warm smile.

Johnnie can’t bear to watch, but he also can’t look away.

You seem to like Tara, because you’re quick to engage in conversation with her. In the matter of seconds Tara has managed to learn your name, your favorite drink, and even your favorite song (it’s the one that plays over the club speakers).

“Oh God they’re coming,” Johnnie whisper shouts, trying to look casual. Tara’s arm is looped with yours as she leads you to their table, an accomplished look painting her face.

“What the fuck do I do? What the fuck do I do?! Fuck!”

“Just act casual. Don’t be weird— Oh fuck! Just shut up!” for some reason Jake finds himself just as nervous as Johnnie. Maybe he was just being empathetic, but they both scramble to get themselves together.

“Don’t be weird? What the fuck does that—”

Johnnie can’t seem to catch a break, because as soon as Tara reaches the booth she’s interrupting him. “Guys. This is Y/n, my new friend,” she gestures towards you, “Y/n, this is my boyfriend Jake and this is our friend Johnnie.”

The moment Tara says your name it’s engraved in Johnnie’s mind. He’s already in love.

Your smile is so big it could light up the room. You extend a hand to the two, immediately introducing yourself and falling into the booth next to Johnnie.

His heart is pounding and his ears are red hot with embarrassment.

“Well, while you two get acquainted, Jake and I are gonna go get drunk,” Tara says, pulling Jake out of the booth before he can get any more comfortable than he already is. She shoots Johnnie a wink before sending you a small wave, leading a confused Jake into the crowd of people.

“She’s nice. I like her,” you comment, watching until the couple disappears. “She’s… something,” Johnnie coughs, he’s so unbelievably awkward.

You chuckle, mostly because you think he’s cute and you find his fiddly personality amusing.

“Johnnie, huh? I had a friend named Johnnie once,” you say, attempting to make conversation. Your manicured nails tap against you glass cup, silver hoop earrings reflecting the strobing lights as you try catching his gaze.

“Bet he didn’t look like this though,” Johnnie replies, clearly referring to his all black attire.

“Hmmm, no. He definitely didn’t,” you giggle. You take a sip from your drink, a lipstick stain remaining once you place the cup back onto the table. Johnnie wonders what it’d feel like to kiss you.

“You’re much cuter,” you continue. Johnnie can’t tell if he’s dreaming, were you actually flirting with him?

Maybe it’s the surge of confidence your compliment gives him, or maybe the alcohol finally kicked in, but Johnnie suddenly finds himself being flirtatious.

“So do you flirt with all the Johnnies you know?”

He’s surprised at how fast you quip back, “Nope. Just the cute ones.”

You’ve subconsciously leaned closer to him, your faces dangerously close.

“Okay, so we’ve established that I’m cute,” he smirks. “What else am I?”

You giggle, a sound that Johnnie swears he can listen to for forever.

“Well clearly you’re not shy anymore,” your finger traces the rim of your drink. A drunk smile and sultry eyes lure him in, pulling him close enough for his lip rings to press against your skin.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs, a wandering hand finding your thigh. You shiver at the sensation. His fingers were ice cold, but they still managed to ignite a fire deep within your core.

“Like this?” you tease, batting your eyelashes.

You never made it a habit of sleeping with strangers, but Johnnie was the sheep in wolves clothing that played innocent until you were close enough to bite.

“I warned you,” his breath fans against your lips one last time before he’s capturing your lips in a heated kiss. It’s the first kiss Johnnie’s had in years which makes it that much more exciting.

Your plump lips chase his as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you. The club is loud, but you’re so immersed in the man in front of you that you forget you’re not the only two people in the room and lose all control.

Johnnie’s hands find your waist, tugging until you’re straddling his lap. He pulls away breathlessly, silently thanking Tara for working her magic once he sees you on top of him.

Your dress rides up slightly, revealing more of your backside than you’d like. The sight earns you a few whistles from bystanders, breaking you from your lustful daze. “Oh shit,” you squeak, trying to scramble off of Johnnie, but his grip is firm enough to keep you in place.

An animalistic, monster-like need has overtaken him and he’s willing to sacrifice his self image to fuck you in front of all these strangers. But he simultaneously doesn’t want anyone else to see you, to enjoy you, the way he’s about to.

“Restroom. Now,” he growls, pinching the soft skin of your ass. You squeal in excitement, allowing the desires of your flesh to cloud your judgement as you hop off of him and wiggle your way out of the booth. You adjust your dress as you wait for Johnnie to follow before taking his hand in yours and leading him towards the restroom. He makes a mental note to let this be the only time you lead him tonight.

Everyone’s watching, yet you can’t find it in you to feel embarrassed. If anything it excites you more.

You find the restroom quickly, a wave of gratitude washing over you when you realize it’s a single stall. This means you can be as loud as you want, and from the look in Johnnie’s eyes, you can tell you’ll also need the extra room.

He’s quick to lock the door and immediately engulfs your face in his hands, bringing you in for the second heated kiss of the night. Johnnie’s eager and it shows in the way he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip.

His left hand remains on your face while the other travels down to your ass, squeezing firmly against the material of your dress. A moan escapes your lips, providing him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. He tastes surprisingly sweet, like pomegranate and pineapple.

He leads you to the sink counter, your bodies bouncing back slightly when they hit the cold marble. “Up,” he commands.

You hop onto the counter, giving him enough room to fit between your legs. Johnnie’s erection presses against your inner thigh, but he gives you no time to comment on it before his lips are back on yours.

Johnnie’s hand’s find your boobs, massaging your mounds slowly as he deepens the kiss. “More,” you murmur against the kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him in closer to you. He smirks against your mouth at your neediness.

“So needy.” He pulls your head back, providing him with perfect access to your neck. Sloppy, open mouth kisses trail from your jawline down to your exposed collarbone. Each one gives you goosebumps.

“Fuck me please,” you whimper, feeling your panties become more soaked by the second. “So polite,” he teases, sucking on your skin until it bruises.

The rough material of his jeans comes in contact with your clothed pussy. He dry humps you just to hear the strained moans that escape your lips.

Finally, when you rut back, he decides he’s teased you enough. Your dress is bunched up around your waist, exposing the wet underwear that he pushes to the side.

“So fucking sexy,” he grunts, kneeling in front of you to get a better view. He’s in love. What he wants to do is eat you out, but there’s no time for that in a club as crowded as this. Especially not when there’s only one restroom.

You watch in awe as he presses a quick kiss on your bundle of nerves, immediately licking his lips right after. “Yummy,” he chuckles, bringing you in for another hungry kiss.

Your hands find his belt, unbuckling it with fervor and tugging at his belt loop to bring him back in to you. He gets the message and helps you in unbuttoning his skin-tight jeans. Your forehead is flush against his as you watch his dick spring up, it bobs back and forth as you take in the sheer size.

“Holy fuck,” your voice is full of exasperation. How was that meant to fit inside of you?

Maybe it’s because he hasn’t done this in a long time, but Johnnie suddenly feels self conscious. He hides his face in your neck before you can notice how red it becomes, but you’re quick to push his shoulders back.

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed. Where’d that monster go?” you place a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth. His dick twitches and cries precum at the reassurance.

He pulls you back in for a kiss, feeling confident once again. He lines himself up tentatively with your entrance, rubbing the tip along your folds before slowly pushing himself in.

Your eyes are screwed shut, small tears forming at the corners as you struggle to adjust to the stretch. “Fuck Johnnie, wait,” you say, pushing against his stomach slightly. Suddenly you’re not sure you want him to fuck you dumb, his size alone was enough to have you seeing stars.

Your words fall on deaf ears, though, and before you know it he’s pushed himself all the way in. You gasp, throwing your head back against the bathroom mirror. Your pussy clenches around him as you try to hold him in place knowing the longer you keep him there, the more time you’ll have to adjust.

It’s no use though, because he begins thrusting into you at a relentless, unforgiving pace. The pain is quickly replaced with pleasure, the tip of his penis kissing your cervix every time his hips slam into yours.

“Fuck you’re so tight,” he grunts, strong hands gripping your waist so he can fuck into you even faster. You whimper at the sensation, his fingers were sure to leave bruises.

“Just like that, Johnnie. So good,” you egg him on, holding onto his neck for support. He hasn’t slowed his pace, instead moving one hand from your hips down to your throbbing clit.

Your legs instinctively push together, but his body moves them back into their previous position as he continues. “Such a slut,” he purrs, watching the euphoric look that paints your face when he rubs his thumb against your sensitive nub.

“Yes! Such a slut,” you’re drunk on dick, babbling whatever will get you closer to your pending release.

“My slut?” he asks, using the hand that was previously gripping your waist to take a firm hold of your face. Your eyes lock with his, taking notice of the way lust clouds his pupils. “All yours,” you whisper.

He smirks, leaning down to kiss you. Your tongues collide in a heated mixture of moans and whimpers. All the while he continues pounding into you and rubbing circles on your clit.

One particularly hard thrust has you dumb, a string of curse words and chants of his name being the only thing you can manage to say. “C’mon baby, c’mon,” he growls, sloppily kissing you as he feels his climax approaching.

“Johnnie!”

Your walls flutter around him, your entire body trembling as your orgasm washes over you.

Your hair falls in front of your face and you find yourself holding Johnnie’s wrist, pushing his hand away as it continues working on your clit. “Almost there,” he moans, pulling his hand away to focus his attention on fucking you.

You’re sensitive. You’re whimpering. You’re so fucked out that it’s overstimulating.

“Cum for me, handsome,” you moan, still coming down from your own high. He continues rutting his hips into you, chasing his release until finally it washes over him.

Hot spurts of cum paint your insides, lazy hips rolling against you. He’s panting from above you, hands falling from your body and latching onto the counter for support.

“Fuck that was… that was amazing,” Johnnie says, pulling out of you reluctantly.

He knows the sooner he pulls out and you two get dressed, the quicker you’ll become strangers. And that’s terrifying.

“You were amazing,” you reply, using your finger to pull his pensive gaze back towards you by his chin.

“Don’t tell me it’s a one and done,” you pout, “I was hoping to have more moments like that.”

Johnnie still stands between your legs, his limp dick resting on your exposed thighs. He lights up at your suggestion. His hands have opted for a much softer hold on your hips, thumbs massaging your skin. He knows he was rough, but he couldn’t help it.

“I mean— I’d like to— we could— fuck I’m so bad at this,” he stutters, suddenly reverting back to his natural, awkward state.

“You’re cute,” you giggle, pecking his nose and hopping off the counter. His ears flush red again.

“How about we get cleaned up and then we’ll worry about the rest later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” a big goofy smile adorns his face. His rosy cheeks make you wanna pinch him and gush over how cute he looks.

“Weren’t you just fucking my brains out a second ago?” you tease, only making him more flustered.

“I’m shy, I can’t help it.”

“Not that shy apparently,” you pull him in for one more kiss.

—

MASTERLIST

a/n: Tara the goat, the best wingwoman ever!

I locked in. Thank you for ur kind words bby, I LUV U!

Enjoy 🎱😜 - L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

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note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐 if your user is striked through, I wasn’t able to tag you :(

[fumifooms]

do you happen to have that page that talks about the beauty standards of each race?

Yeah sure. While scavenging pics for this I found this neat reddit compilation & chart & theory talk too. I had um, way more to say than I anticipated (I know you only wanted the one page. I have nothing to say for myself. Like most topics in Dunmeshi things snowball because they’re so interconnected. Mercy…) so, many races and observations are only mentioned near the bottom.

Beauty standards and race in Dungeon Meshi

Not pictured there’s also how elven society is harsh on visibly disabled people, and how the demon took away Mithrun’s silver eyes and ears to take away his pride. There’s also how Senshi might have fit in with the orcs more easily because of the dwarven wide body shape, and how they tend to have more body hair too I suppose. In the extra on orcs we see Senshi living with the orcs and he gets judged because of the hierarchy rather than his looks.

What is fashionable also differs from culture to culture, and there’s how tattoos only seem common with elves, though dwarves and others do also sometimes have some. They seem to not raise much brows, which makes sense since for many essentially they’re for professional (magical) purposes especially with elves. Gender roles also differ in type and importance, but generally they are similar to irl ones for the races we see. Elven society seems to be the least gendered, which would be an unsurprising logical outcome of having lesser sexual dimorphism aka they look more androgynous. Comparing fashions and gender roles and how they affect beauty standards would be a whole other compilation and conversation. Kui has great worldbuilding partially because she’s got such a good grasp on sociopolitics and geopolitics. History affects cultures and beauty standards greatly. Kui’s oneshot Distant Utopia was very eye opening on her way to worldbuild and the consideration she gives these things, I do really recommend reading it.

Out of the big 5, we know the least about gnomes, but their sheet does say both culture and region are similar to dwarves’ and they end up being confused together often, so we can imagine the beauty standards are similar to dwarves’ as well.

I wanted to touch on this in a post eventually, but how one daydream hour page said half-foots tended to be curvaceous like in the artwork below puzzled me for a long time, all the half-foot characters we see during canon are rather slender and lanky after all, Chil’s succubi also being more curvy than plump. Economics are for sure a factor in that I imagine, the half-foots characters we see are all implied to be some flavor of poor or malnourished, as are half-foots depicted as empoverished oppressed minorities in general. Even comparing the artwork with the half-foot sheet’s depicted average half-foot, the ones on the left seem bigger. Wouldn’t it make sense though, if unlike dwarves half-foots don’t have similar naturally wide bodies, yet due to idolizing dwarves they work towards having a similar body shape/type to emulate them?

It’s said half-foots tend to stick to pretty ethnically homogeneous regions (aka half-foots-only communities) unless they move to the big city with ambition to try and make it big (like Chilchuck and his wife & kids did), and that’s interesting imo because then that would mean that in a ton of half-foot communities, they rarely see or interact with dwarves whom they try to emulate. Of course, one thing about beauty standards is that when they get adopted, at one point it stops being "this is how dwarves look and so this is how half-foots should look" and just becomes "this is how half-foots should look", most people feel as though beauty standards aren’t learned but innate, so I figure the half-foots wouldn’t have any problem still seeking dwarvish traits when there are no dwarves around.

There’s also stuff you can glean here and there if you want to extrapolate more. Like how in the race swap artworks, Mickbell is only smiling in the dwarf portrait, and Rin’s elven portrait looks very close to her elven one- Rin who is stated to be beautiful in her profile blurb. Benichidori’s extra does teach us tallmen can definitely have harsh beauty standards, but also since the text portrays her as very dysmorphic that’s likely reflected in her thoughts to a much more intense degree than is common, not an accurate strict baseline to go off. Ah, Kabru’s blue eyes are also why he and his mother lived a rough life in Kabru’s hometown, but that seems to be regional. Good post here on the topic of Kabru’s blue eyes and ties to irl history. There’s a lot to be said about Kabru being a man that in many ways is close to elven beauty standards, and how that might have affected or been affected by his upbringing with elves + his persona as someone that can effortlessly charm most people. Marcille’s section here in this essay also goes into Marcille’s struggles to fit in with the ideal image of an elf.

Looking human

Also notable are beastkins and demihumans: Demihumans are all dehumanized which makes people treat them worse. So if you differ from the visual idea of "human" (an in-world subjective categorization just as much as demihuman is) most people do judge you negatively. Elves and dwarves get to fight about which type of human is considered the prettiest, but demihumans are below tallmen and half-foots, they are considered as simply below the beauty contest, incompatible with it.

Onis are perhaps the demihuman people we know of with the least cultural influence on the dunmeshi world, and with the least intensely different appearance than other demihumans—they seem to be technically categorized as human to people not from the eastern archipelago?— but even them are treated as lesser than human, treated as beasts to slain for reputation points or useful strength to have around and command. It’s said their "magnificient horns" and fangs are often shaven off when the oni lives in tallman towns, so you could easily make the argument that onis are denied the right to have their own beauty standards, having to conform to other people’s and going through mutilation to take away features they might otherwise have taken pride in. Inutade was bought by the Nakamotos from a dangerous sumo fighting ring that got one of Inutade’s tooth broken on her first and only fight, and kept as a low ranking servant ever since. Remember when I said different fashions existed in dunmeshi and how those could also affect beauty standards? Like the elves, if you look at the portraits pages which include a lot of characters that aren’t in the story you can see distinct cultures within the same races, for example one young elf is bald which is in sharp contrast with the usual elven long luscious hairstyles, and that’s especially true for onis I think. Maybe not only from different regions but different eras as well… They have a bit of population in the very north of the western continent, so I like to think some of the ogres live in very cold, maybe even subarctic or arctic conditions. The point I’m getting at here is that within a race, culture/ethnicity like with Kabru will also influence them it isn’t just tallmen as a whole, different communities will have differing beauty standards. The oni history blurb and third row first collumn portrait remind me of Mongolia (which historically was a lot of different nomadic communities with different cultural identities as well. Something something, the oni empire experienced a decline and then tallmen overpowered them, and now they’re governed and split apart by stronger social classes & slavers and the richness of culture was hurt for it especially if they have no real community left of their own), but obviously many of them are dressed and look rather japanese, makes sense considering living in/close to Wa, and first row second collumn portrait reminds me of ainus which again would be logical considering geographical placement, though I’m far from an expert. Interestingly, ainus are indigenous people both in Japan and Russia- Perhaps the northern western continent ogres are meant to be closer to Russia than Canada like I imagined? Ok tangent over.

The kobold sheet says they’re especially sought after as slaves because they’re "adorable", but locally in the western continent they’re repeatedly said to be seen more as ferocious and dangerous. The dehumanization is most apparent in the first comic below. The language barrier and conflicts no doubt worsen this by a lot, but I think it’d be hard to deny that their canine appearance makes the dehumanization worse. "They’re ferocious beasts, they’re demihumans, they can’t be communicated with". Most characters in Dungeon Meshi’s world are desensitized to slavery and most characters are prejudiced one way or another. Point being, kobolds are fully removed from human beauty standards, but no doubt for kobolds, other kobolds are more beautiful than humans are. They’re assumed to be an uncivilized bunch, but just like any other people they like to adorn themselves with nice clothes and jewelry and keep themselves clean and groomed; they too take care of their appearance and take pride in it.

And the orcs! This one we have the most contact with in canon, with not only there being foreigner characters from the ethnicity or hearsay of their homelands and culture but full on contact with a community. We get to see up close what they’re like and what they think, and of course in turn they’re our introduction to how demihumans are harshly looked down upon and seen as inferior, less human and thus less worth valuing and less dignified. It’s text that orcs are ugly to most humans and humans are ugly to most orcs. Since I judged they didn’t need accompanying explanation the pictures showing this are in the pictures dump at the top.

God forbid you sell vegetables to orcs my god- but then again they do basically mandate adventurers to kill any orcs they come across so yeah the world isn’t above that even a little bit.

So yes, my main point here is simply that orcs are yet another evidence of the physical ideal of "human" being an important beauty standard for human societies globally.

Izutsumi is our glimpse at how beastkins are treated in the world, and in Wa at least that’s ending up being caged and mistreated as part of a freak show. Izutsumi hates her appearance and wishes she could leave the feline part of herself behind to only be human. Interestingly, not that we have a lot of info on them so this is very much a take with a grain of salt situation, but there seems to be less stigma around artificial beastmen, those who can shapeshift at will. The main difference is of course appearance, that most of the time they simply look like average tattooed humans. Artificially creating humans is an illegal practice, and no doubt it’s not well regarded, but being able to hide that makes them less likely to be discriminated at any moment, or even just discriminated less intensely. Again, looking human is important, not only for belonging but for safety’s sake. Beauty standards rule the world with harsh hands.

Mermaids and fishmen

Ok we’re done now right? Right-! But wait… Wait…! Mermaids and fishmen are said to be demihumans too, special separate cases to the main three demihuman species however, which is also represented by how mermaids and fishmen both are in the Adventurer’s Bible chapter Monsters meanwhile ogres, kobolds and orcs are in the chapter World. They’re an interesting topic because they directly tackle this topic, not only in a meta way for the readers but also making characters themselves struggle to quantify their humanity with the goal of knowing wether they should be eaten or not, especially Chilchuck. Chilchuck’s "is it really just a matter of feelings?" mini arc.

The party asking themselves "Should we eat this?" is very common, and often they end up playing a little loose on morality, like eating the red dragon’s meat despite it having digested Falin. Not unsimilarly Marcille freaks out a little over the vegetables they harvested having been grown with fertilizer, aka largely human poo. Half of the motivation of "should we eat this perhaps sentient creature" is out of consideration and compassion, but more strongly and more often, the characters struggle with a sense of taboo at eating something too closely related to humans. Even, feel uncomfortable because of the deepseated impression that eating it would dirty them in some way. Cannibalism is an interesting and relevant topic in many ways, but what I want to mention is how there’s the more or less universal belief that committing cannibalism inherently taints you as a person and turns you more monstrous, morally but also literally depending on some myths such as w*ndigos and onis in some cases, like in Touge Oni. Marcille and Izutsumi both express a fear of eating monsters turning them monstrous. Maybe this is part of what Laios was hoping for, honestly. There are two fears here, if eating a demihuman monster constitutes as cannibalism or not, and so, will eating it taint you because it’s a human, or will eating it taint you because it’s a monster? You are what you eat, until it’s a little too literal. You morally are the means by which you get your food, and you physically are the result of your nutrition. Dungeon meshi manages to mix an exploration of humanity with the theme of food because our relationship to food is very deep and complex, psychological as much as physiological.

In the end, the characters sort of shrug and accept that they’ll never quite understand the world of mermaids and fishmen and how they operate, and what that means about them. Laios is the one always challenging these notions other characters take for granted, it’s not obvious to Laios why people are softer on mammals than other animals and plants, it’s not obvious to Laios why people would be afraid of eating a monster just because it’s a monster, it’s not obvious to Laios why some food is gross to Marcille but not fish testicles, it’s not obvious to Laios why you should immediately regard orcs and kobolds badly.

"Cows are probably closer to humans [aka closer to being human] than fishmen, though they’re clearly intelligent", dehumanization to lessen empathy towards them to be able to eat them. Meanwhile, mermaids seemingly have a less noticeable "civilization" or intelligence, they hunt in groups like fishmen, but they don’t use tools and such, they feel more primal and similarly instinct driven, and yet… Do they attract sympathy more? Mammals, humans, is it because of their nature or because of their appearance?

Both the nature and appearance of fish are ones people don’t typically sympathize with. "Fish don’t feel pain", "goldfish only have 5 seconds of memory", "it’s okay to keep fish in completely empty bowls too small for them until they die from it", so many lies and misconceptions exist that make people less considerate of them. The average lifespan of a goldfish is 10-15 years, the record is 43, but they’re not seen as lives that really matter, so a lot of goldfish die in a few weeks of bad aquarium conditions. There’s a lot of research on animals evolving to look cute and appealing to make some predators want to kill them less and parents want to care for them more, including humans. First good google research result gave me this credible short article on the topic. In Chilchuck’s weighing wether a fishman is far enough from being human or not to eat, "face is 100% fish" is his biggest argument for it being more acceptable. The face, the most important thing for empathy and recognition. The face, the decapitated fishman one that falls into his hands next chapter.

To quote @room-surprise: "Chilchuck can't explain why it's wrong to eat the merpeople, even though it's NOT complicated. But the problem is Chilchuck would have to accept and acknowledge that the merpeople might be people? And that's outside of the worldview he passively believes, so he can't just say that, because he doesn't think that's true. But that IS why he "feels" it's wrong. And it's all you'd need to say for Laios to understand! But it would require acknowledging that maybe the way they're treating and talking about the merpeople is wrong."

The idea of Chil not being able to grapple with how maybe some monsters are more humans than they seem, him who had been an advocate of half-foots rights, half-foots who get undermined and treated as inconsequential sacrifices… Grappling with how he could relate to the merpeople’s situation almost, and pulling away because it’s so existentially horrifying. I do not want to see myself into an hostile fish-faced warrior I can’t communicate with. In a way this also relates to Chilchuck being the only party member who doesn’t see Izutsumi as a cat in the relationship chart, the only one to treat her with full human dignity. He knows the struggle to be taken seriously, he knows being infantilized and he knows what it’s like to be treated as less than human.

Below, you will see Chilchuck draws the line of where they become not okay to eat as when "they already look like mermaids". Above, there’s speculation that the algae hair is partly to mimic "the mermaids’ beautiful female form". Is it because mermaids are their enemies and the ambiguity might give them extra seconds to attack or flee? Is it to trick adventurers instead? It’s striking to me that this is what works, with the adventurers. Sure the fishmen are intelligent, but explicitly here, what makes them no longer acceptable prey to Chilchuck is that they look close enough to a mermaid, close enough to human. Mermaids who of course themselves have this form to entice and seduce and charm the adventurers they prey on. Chilchuck considers the intelligence due to the tridents, but most of his internal debate centers around their appearance, and the image of a fishman skewered sickens him. The power of mimicry… Mimic being a beautiful human woman. Mimic being cute, babies being wired to make us feel protective and softened. Half-foots, sometimes pretending to be children for scams or help or avoiding trouble.

The mermaids are only concerned by their differences and not their similarities, and have no trouble treating the fishmen as food rather than peers. To an outside perspective like us, the audience, all these categorization of "more human" and "less human" between onis and orcs and elves and tallmen etc seem stupid and unfounded, but to the people living in Dungeon Meshi’s world, elves may as well be mermaids while onis are fishmen, not alike at all, unworthy of empathy and thus fine to eat.

Ultimately, Dungeon Meshi promotes unity. It’s about seeking to understand the unknown and the misunderstood, the dehumanized and the inhuman. It shows the good that comes from seeking to understand what you do not, even when that’s one another.