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yua-nism · 6 months

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I saw your tags and I’m now very intrigued like what do you mean yuhan has the SHORTEST TRAGIC BACKSTORY?!?! JUST WHAT IS GOING ON?? like granted I should have known a game about devil cat butlers would have some angst and tragic backstories but god damn 😭😭

there was a miscalculation on my part and yuuhan's is in fact, not the one with the shortest backstory! however that's only because the others have yet to have their backstories be revealed. sorry for the late answer btw, exams have made me pretty tired.

ok so ill briefly explain a bit. this ties in to the requirement to become a devil butler that is, having felt so much despair that one feels like dying. normal people will be swallowed up by the devils they contract with. the despair essentially acts like chains for the devil. so to talk about their pasts in the Briefest Way Possible (lie):

miyaji has beef with lucas on the surface but really it's because he still can't get over the fact that lucas decided to save him from the verge of death instead of someone else he thought was more capable than him while lucas simply chose to save miyaji because he had higher chances of living.

lucas was basically a child prodigy/genius. since young, he's always loved reading books, and even read thick books that even adults struggled to understand. even though he was lonely and had no one to talk to, he still endured it, skipped grades, and became a doctor at the age of 10+. at first he was looked down on for being young, but an older doctor stood up for him. eventually he became the leader of the doctors, but due to his lack of social skills, he struggled to communicate well, which resulted in the doctors hating him. in the end, all the doctors except lucas quit their job. and the group collapsed. (tbf id quit too... imagine being said you didn't work as hard as him and don't have as much brainpower compared to him as well)

ammon has only had his mom since birth and lived with her, selling flowers for a living. ammon would always make sure the flowers would be sold out at the end of the day for his sickly mother, but if he doesn't manage to sell all of them it's heavily implied his mom whips him like he does to himself even now. they were like super poor but ammon still loved his mom because he only had her

berrien has like this super mysterious past but rn it's starting to unravel in chapter 4. he's an orphan and got adopted into a church backed by the grovanas or whatever nobel family to nurture warriors who could fight angels, but surprisingly the church is actually full of love and was ran by someone who fighted angels named Goetia. berrien also met his soon-to-be older brother figure named Beren/Belen. btw all of the kids go by the last name Cliane because goetia wants everyone to become true family.

when berrien was 26 (Beren 29), goetia died from a chronic disease and Beren had to take on goetia's responsibilities. berrien became the one running the church, however shit happened, Beren got demonized, and berrien used his powers to keep Beren alive after forming a contract with his current devil. he's still residing in berrien's basement as of current, but in a coma. berrien still thinks he himself has no rights to be a butler and really does not believe that he's the one keeping the damn thing running

also the church got destroyed like 2400 years ago and yes berrien is 2000+ years old

haures was born into some wack ass family, his dad ran away with some other woman and his mom projected her rage and stuff like that onto haures, and his newborn younger sister Tricia. haures is 10 years older than Tricia. when he was that age, he ran away from home with Tricia (literal baby) because he no longer trusted his mom to take good care of them. after that, when haures was 18, he trained hard to become a soldier under the grovanas nobles so he could afford to let Tricia get treatment for her worsening vision. one heartbreaking scene was when haures showed off his red uniform to Tricia and she said the blue uniform looked good on him... but 5 years later, haures managed to get Tricia's eyes healed!!! surely nothing bad could happen!!!!

sike. haures caught one of the grovanas nobles illegally trafficking humans with some dealer, and arrested him. however that led to the seller getting revenge, and he decided to capture tricia. he stabbed her and threw her into the woods. when haures found her, she only managed to call out to haures before she died after a few breaths. haures was really really really devastated. he sought revenge on the noble, and while the noble didn't die, he was jailed 5 years for harming the noble (not death sentence because he was determined mentally unstable after losing Tricia.). after he got out of jail, he found the noble again and wanted to kill him, but he was reminded of how Tricia admired him for protecting the people and helping those in need, which stopped him. after that, he became a devil butler because of his proficient fighting skills.

lamli was forced to work at a circus by his mom at the age of 10, while starting up with simple duties, he decided to train to become a circus troupe performer so he'd earn more money for his complaining mother. its heavily implied he's abandoned by her and becomes a devil butler because of his nimble body. btw his mom said she never wanted to have lamli right in front of him. jesus.

fennesz was born into a wealthy happy family, and had an older sister. however his war general father lost a war against nobles, and the economy went into shambles. his mom remarried but even though their stepdad was nice, fennesz and his sister ended up strays on the street due to some reasons i forgot of. fennesz would get bullied by kids on the street because of his father's loss in the war, but his sister would always protect him, and they relied on each other for survival. she's very smart, as shown in the story. she also loves history, as she said, it can help people learn from the past. its heavily implied she is dead.

ok flure! flure grew up with his older sister and mother who both did ballet (can one of you have an actual dad for once?), and he also followed in their footsteps. however when he was a child he was bullied for liking stereotypical girly things, like playing with his sister's dolls, doing ballet and having long hair. even though he was laughed at for doing it, he still underwent strict training guided bg his sister and mother. he never found the courage to tell his sister or mom even though his sister could tell something was wrong (heard him crying at night). he still thinks he should be more courageous to this day and thinks he's pathetic. we don't know what happened to his family but they probably died.

i wanted to talk about boschi but i realized idk much about him apart from the fact that he only had his grandmother (who's actually a great caretaker for once!) and he was bullied for being a bookworm/nerd at school and had no friends. though he did actually beat those bullies up later for mocking his grandma when she wanted to take him back home. she didn't want boschi to fight but she said herself she was actually rooting for him when he was fighting LMAOOO love her for that

lono. ok so lono was really poor and had no parents, and he acted as the older brother for the younger kids living on the streets with him. he'd work as someone who'd clean up rubble from battling angels, which was a job that had unstable income since no one knows when angels are gonna appear. they were family basically. lono would rather starve than let his siblings eat less, and his love of cooking originated here because he loved seeing them happy from his cooking. we don't know what happened to them, but they're probably dead

nac was born into a rich family, and has a father, not sure if he has a mother, never mentioned at least. apparently the stein family was great at sales or trading or smth??? they're just some very rich and well-known name. however on his 12th birthday, his butler led him to the forest near the stein mansion, and revealed himself to be someone the stein family harmed. just as he was about to kill lil nac in shock, nac retaliated in defense. and when he realized, he already stabbed the man at his vital point. his dad appears out of nowhere and reveals that he knew this all along, and that the stein family is actually a long line of assassins with sales as their front personas. nac was trained to kill since then, and thought he'd never feel positive emotions again before he became a devil butler. he also has scars all around his body, probably from the assassin work he did.

lato and his non-blood related brother, Aleks I think? were kidnapped by people who wanted to train people to become angel fighters. however unlike berrien, this time it's just pure cruelness and literal torture. they were 8 when this experiment started. not only that, all the children were sold by their caretakers to this place, including lato and aleks' "mother", the head of their orphanage, who they deeply loved and believed in. when lato finally found a way to escape, almost half the children were dead.

and when he told the others, they told lato that they already gave up on escaping, including aleks. from, i suppose, all the suppressed anger and trauma, he burned the experiment facility down, leaving the other kids to die because he hallucinated that they wanted them to be burned so they could be free. after that, lato returned to the orphanage even though he knew the "mother" sold him in the first place. guess what the mother did! that's right she ran back into the orphanage when she saw him, locked the fucking door and told him to get the fuck away from her. and lato burned the orphanage down.

now onto the new butler trio!

teddy is the one with the most details in his backstory so far. when he was young, he Had a twin brother, and teddy was a far cry from who he is now. he was negative and gloomy compared to his brother, who was positive and talented, and people always favored teddy's brother more. but one day, his brother died protecting him from an angel, but since they were so alike people didn't know whether the one that died was teddy or his brother. and after grieving his brother, teddy decided to become him, and used his brother's name to live on as him so people wouldn't be sad, because "teddy" was the one that died. and that led to teddy forming his personality today. teddy is his actual name though, he started using it after he became a knight. he became a knight because he wanted to protect people from angels.

but during an attack by an intelligent angel, namely seraphim, one of the angels that appeared at the end of chapter 1 and also the major antagonist of the story, teddy's entire unit got killed. at the start of chapter 2.5, he recuperated in a hospital, however he kept terrible nightmares (reliving the massacre, and hearing the voices of his comrades asking him why he abandoned them and why he got to survive) and so didn't sleep at all. he eventually snuck out of the hospital to visit their graves, and then started wondering what the point of him still being alive is. he almost threw himself off a cliff before haures and aruji reached him.

hanamaru. ten years before the story, hanamaru was fleeing from something- he walked all the way from the east to the central, and collapsed in a forest. a nun found him and took him back to a church that doubled as an orphanage. however the nun soon fell ill and died, so hanamaru began taking care of the kids in the church after he was saved by her.

but 5 years later, the church was attacked by angels. he was away from the church when the attack happened, and when he came back, all he saw were angels flying away from the ruined church. only 4 kids survived. hanamaru had a breakdown, and kept kneeling and pressing his head against the ground, saying things like "i couldn't protect them", "i swear ill keep them safe next time", implying this is not the first time something like this has happened. he swore vengeance against the angels that day, that he would never forgive them, and himself. so berrien suspects that the 4 kids that survived were the people that kept hanamaru around. who knows what could've happened if they passed as well...

lastly (finally), yuuhan. at the age of 9, he trained to become a soldier of the sardeis family so he could protect his hometown, and made it after 3 years. he quickly rose up in the ranks, being a prodigy. in the main story, he started doubting his loyalty to the family after they attempted an assassination on the devil butlers. and he betrayed the sardeis family and fell into their trap when investigating forbidden records. he got thrown into jail by the head, and the head decided for his punishment, yuuhan's whole village and everyone he knew there will be burned and killed. he could only despair in jail. in the story, after his prison guard left after serving him food, yuuhan started crying. he called out to his father, his mother, everyone from his hometown, apologizing again and again, believing that it's his fault that they died.

after that, the head, fubuki, paid him a visit. fubuki beat yuuhan up, pushed him to the verge of death, but not grave enough injuries to die. yuuhan asked fubuki to kill him, but fubuki refused. he even says he'll force feed yuuhan till the day of his death execution if necessary. however, yuuhan was rescued by the butlers during his execution. (it took place in a forest with tigers. basically the death penalty is getting eaten by tigers) he became a devil butler after that.

holy shit. also im not typing Bastien's since you can read his backstory from the tls available here.

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lemontongues · 3 months

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[to the tune of your body is a wonderland] my body is a nuclear wasteland

#sage talks #started my period like an hour and a half ago and ohhh my god its kicking my ass o(-(#i almost never take pain meds when im on my period bc the pain never gets worse than like. moderate with moments of moderate-high #but we are in full moderate-high with moments of WHAT THE FUCK territory so. i took an advil and now im gonna try to take a nap skdbfkd #and this on top of just. my usual 'what the fuck is wrong with my body why am i exhausted etc etc'

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cithaerons · 2 years

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had the biggest kendall roy moment this morning i am still shaking

#the doors of the exam close at 9 and if you’re not seated at that point you’re not allowed in #i call the uber at 8am thinking yesterday it took like 20 min to get there #uber is ten minutes late to arrive #and then we immediately get stuck behind a dump truck on my narrow street that wasn’t moving to let anyone pass #we wait for ten to fifteen minutes and then i decide to just get out and ask the dump truck guy #he says it’ll be another THIRTY TO FORTY MINUTES #so i just politely apologize to the uber driver and hop out and run to a busy street and hail a cab #at this point it’s almost 8:30 in the middle of rush hour #thank god the cab driver was amazing and we got there at like 8:51 #i ran in and took my seat and it was all okay #but ohhh my god !!!!!#it was SO CLOSE

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scare-ard--sleigh · 4 days

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ohhhhhhhhhh my goddddddddd and now the fucking t*ble t*nnis guy is passive aggressively up my ass : \

#work stuff #silver jelly #'i've noticed editing has slowed down...' first of all ;;; i was editing the 3.5k words of incomprehensible nonsense because you all #won't hire real writers for almost TWO HOURS on friday. i skipped Yesterday. you sent that message at 10 AM when i HAD one of those #fucking awful awful articles on my roster for today. so that's what;;;; 1 work day unaccounted for? fuck off #secondly; you assholes REFUSE to tell me how much you're expecting from me; you just fucking yell at us when we're not going #'fast enough' when you WON'T EVEN TELL ME WHAT THAT MEANS #this is an internal fucking site and we have REAL clients with REAL ACTUAL deadlines ;;; this is not !!!!!!!!!!!!!! a priority to me!!!!!!!#thirdly; ;;;; i took this project AS A FAVOR to someone who's on maternity leave. i did not even want it. she fucking told me 'ohhh you're #the only one i trust' when there's ... literally ;;; another editor on this who is her best friend from childhood or whatever .#like manipulating me; basically; into taking this project (and she didn't even need to; i wanted the hours anyway)#STILL; ;;; it's not something i picked; it's not something i even particularly wanted to do !!!!!#and it's endless shit;; every god damn week it's some version of 'is everything okay? you're slowing down?' like yeah bro i got other work!#jesus fucking CHRIST i just cannot !!!!!#i sent a message in the chat i straight up said 'i try to do one of these a day but i don't feel like it's enough so please tell me what #your expectations are' and if he dodges i'm saying 'an approximate number would be really helpful' like fuck dude i don't CARE if #you tell me you need 10 of these by the end of the week -- i can maybe even make that happen but this isn't fucking working !!!!#@god please get me out of here holy shit .

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wormonastringtime · 7 months

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Hello. I just wanted to say that you are not alone on the having weird dreams with Lupin thing, that's a symptom of The Disease. My friend, for example, dreamt that he was stealing a neon yellow train and the Spider Society was trying to stop him. Miguel O'Hara took everything he said personally and at some point it became more about him killing Lupin than it ever did saving the multiverse. She says Lupin talked in Tumblr textposts also

oh my god thats fuckin crazyyy... i have had so many lupin dreams it's kind of scary. i literally have a whole list of them in my notes app. but the craziest thing to me is that lupin in my dreams has NEVER been out of character. if he's out of character then it's someone pretending to be lupin, and that's a major plot point. otherwise it's literally like he's there. every once in a while i clean up some funny bits to post on here but like god i wish i could explain it better. there are some dreams ive had that should literally be movies. i want to make them real.

#society if i had a big budget and a team of animators etc to make lupin movies. i already like making up plots for fun but ohhh my god.#the dreams i've had. if i wanted i could talk about them for hours. but im slowly chipping away at drawing scenes of one so hopefully i can #like. post those and make a compilation or something for people to understand. because the visuals are important to me.#this reminds me. i took a nap earlier and He Was There. so i should write that out before i forget #[personal tag pending]#anon ask

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transbunnyboi · 2 months

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I'M BACK FROM MY DATE. My brain is so fuzzy and I'm soooo dizzy and I'm overwhelmingly horny right now ough my god!!! My face and body is so warm, I feel like I was drugged oh god. Okay so I'm still fucking reeling. This man. Jesus Christ.

So he shows up and we go to some restaurant (It's a local one) and we have food and we talk and !! he doesn't like drinking (neither do I, for some reason I'm scared of it?? But not weed? My brain is silly), and also he's vegan. SO we eat and then we talked FOR HOURS and he's so interesting and nice and he's a really good listener and oughhhh god !!!! Oh my god and his teeth are so pretty and that sounds so weird but like they're not perfectly straight and they're so cute and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!! So he takes me driving and just being in the car with him with his scent and his voice and his laugh and the slight fear of the fact that it's late at night and we're just driving around and he starts flirting with me and??? Also telling me like. Urban legends of the area and slowly creeping me out and I, not a normal person, started getting like. Absurdly turned on and shifting around in my seat and crossing and uncrossing my legs and we're on a dark desolate road and I wanted him to pull over and fuck me in the back and eventually we got back to my apartment complex and we parked in the dark area and he started talking and I asked if he'd 'kiss me goodnight' and he smiled and reached over and kissed me and I couldn't stop kissing him back.

He tastes sooooo so good just oh god, and we started making out in his car and my boycunt started aching soooooooo soo bad that it made my fucking legs shake and I want him so bad and my brain stopped working and I started begging him and I honestly don't even remember what I was asking for but I swear to god, my tdick started throbbing soo so bad and my cunt was dripping down my thighs and then he started unbuckling his belt and I literally started whining (I'm actually rlly embarrassed lmao) and I ended up sucking his cock and oh my god. I don't know what happened but I think my brain fucking re-wired. His cock tasted so fucking good and I'm soo dizzy from it. I can't even describe it but it slightly tasted like dirt and it slightly burned my tongue?? not burned but like???? I can't describe it and he kept leaking pre into my mouth and he was holding my hair back and guiding me and petting my hair with his other hand and ohhh god he was so vocal and he kept praising me and saying I was a good boy and I was so fucking horny that I was actually tearing up and I ended up stroking him until he came on my tongue dfhjgfdsfghjsdgf

He fixed himself up and took me to my apartment and my legs were so wobbly and I wanted him to fuck me so so so bad and he ended up kissing me again and again and when I asked for him to spend the night he said no, and kinda let out the softest little laugh (I was dripping down my leg) and said "You're greedy, huh?" and went "Not on the first date." I started trying to get him inside anyway because I was literally trembling and dizzy and I needed him so so bad and he kissed me AGAIN and smiled and said no and leaned in (I started shaking and panting, I was literally losing my mind) and he fuCKING GOES "and don't touch yourself tonight. If you do that, I mean."

He said he'd take me out tomorrow night because we're both off work and my boycunt is aching so bad and I'm so overwhelmingly horny and I can't stop whining and I'm laying on my bed with my ass up and I need to have fucking ANYTHING and I'm so so fucking horny and I cAN'T. I WANT TO DIE.

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apclyptc · 5 months

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LONG DAY— chris sturniolo x reader

synopsis: after a stressful, busy day, chris can think of nothing better to unwind than have a taste of you.

warnings: smut obv, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, idk what else really

foreword: as requested by the poll results, here is munch chris!

it was 7:02pm. just over an hour since chris was meant to be home. he briefly mentioned in his messages earlier in the day that he did not want to leave the house today because of his busy schedule.

you and chris didn’t have an established relationship yet. it was a mutual agreement, of sorts, that you could both get what you wanted out of the other with no feelings attached, and that you were free to see other people.

that being said, neither of you had seen other people.

you were about to shoot him a text asking if he wanted you to wait at his apartment for him, but your plan was interrupted by his key scrambling into the lock.

“hey, i was just about to text yo- mmph!” chris wasted no time to collide his lips with yours, imbuing the kiss with desperation upon contact. his hands quickly roamed over your body, not staying in one place for long.

chris walked you backwards, pressing your back into the arm of the couch.

you momentarily broke the kiss to speak, “nice to see you too.” panting, you took this short time to get a look of the man starving for your touch.

his eyes were low, breath hitched and heavy. the eyes that bore into yours, scanned over your body, as he swiped his tongue over his slightly swollen lips.

“i’ve had a long day. take off your clothes.” he spoke with a low pitch that made you shiver deliciously.

“at least take a girl out to dinner first.” you joked, all the while following the order he had given you.

you peeled your shirt off of your body and over your shoulder, making quick work of the buttons on your pants. chris, impatient as he is, pulled your pants completely off and absentmindedly threw them behind him, pushing your legs apart as his head lowered.

“i am hungry,” chris licked a stripe up the fabric of your underwear, causing you to suck in a breath, “just wanna taste this pussy.”

as quickly as he said the words, the way he yanked down your underwear and attached his mouth to your already aching clit, was somehow quicker.

you gasped at the sudden feeling, him giving sloppy kisses to your cunt.

“ohhh my god,” you moaned breathlessly at his tongue delving into your folds.

you reached a hand down to his hair, tugging when his nose brushed your clit, which made him moan into you.

the vibrations sent you a new wave of pleasure, bucking your hips impossibly closer to his face.

he pulled away for a moment, “you taste so good, baby.” and before you could even process the lack of his tongue pressed against you, he was back to it.

chris felt his cock throb within the confines of his steadily tightening pants, but he was too lost in the pleasure of your cunt to even think about his own release. in fact, he could probably cum just from this.

this, the desperation of your back arching into him, the sound of your whines growing in volume, your mouth forming an ‘o’ shape as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“i’m so close, don’t stop,” you practically screamed, knowing that any second now he was going to pull away to tease you and deny you of an orgasm.

but when that time never came, you gave him a second warning.

“chris, i’m gonna cum, i’m–”

“what are you waiting for? cum on my face.” he said between wet kisses to your pussy.

you weren’t going to be told twice, and his words guided you quickly to an orgasm.

just when you had caught your breath and looked down at the man in between your legs, his face covered in your slick, he inserted a long finger inside of you, pushing the cum that had spilled out back inside of you.

chris grabbed your thighs with rough hands and you watched as his head dipped back down to your clit, sucking on it once more. he wasn’t done, wasn’t finished feasting on you like it was his last meal.

his finger had began to pick up speed inside of you, pumping in and out whilst his tongue continued to stimulate you.

“fuck, ‘s too much!” you cried, tears forming at your eyes from the pleasure.

“you can take it.” he replied simply, completely pussy-drunk. he could do this for hours.

you came again, much quicker than the orgasm that came before.

you weren’t sure how much more you could take, because you knew he wasn’t through with you yet, but he rose from his place at your core to reconnect his soaked lips to yours.

you could taste your own arousal on his mouth as he kissed you with nothing but pure desire.

“i can’t stop once i eat that pussy, baby. love it when you cum on my mouth, fuck.” he groaned, grinding his rock solid dick onto your thigh.

your cunt throbbed at the words, wanting to feel him despite hardly being able to hold yourself up.

“please fuck me, i need it.” you begged, sliding your hand across his sweatpants and squeezing slightly.

“yeah?” he crawled over your body, resting his weight on his elbows, “you can handle another round? you gonna cum again?” he asked rhetorically, but you nodded frantically anyway.

“okay, take it out.” he shoved his clothed dick onto you, gesturing for you to take what you need.

you reached your hand under the waistband of his boxers, pulling out his cock and giving it a playful stroke.

chris took over, pulling down his pants to his knees and aligning himself with your weeping cunt.

and without warning, he slammed into you.

the delicious squelch of your slick walls welcomed him in and he groaned loudly at the feeling.

“fuck, you hear that? this slutty little pussy all wet for me?” he thrusted in and out of you at an unforgiving pace, any leftover stress melting away.

“mmm, so good, so good!” you babbled, the overstimulation limiting your words and making your voice hoarse.

you clenched around him, and he threw his head back in bliss. you were so warm, so-

“so tight, sucking me in.” he moaned, whimpering slightly. he was already so close.

“oh, fuck!” you whined, the knot once again unravelling.

chris felt a flush of warmth spread over his cock, and he knew you finished again.

you clenched around him over, and over, and over, until the coil snapped and he spurted ropes of pearly cum inside of you. when he pulled out with a shaky sigh, his dick was coated in a mixture of both his and your release.

chris reached down to place a kiss on your forehead, before tucking his softening dick back into his pants and collapsing on top of you.

“thank you.” he muttered into your shoulder.

“i guess you really needed that.” you smiled weakly, all of your stamina gone.

“yeah. like i said, it’s been a long day.”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

a/n: this is FILTHYYYYYYY. i tried. lowkey feel like this was kinda shitty but we good. hope u enjoyed!

#chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo oneshot #chris sturniolo smut

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toxicanonymity · 8 months

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Parole.

3k words, joel miller x f!reader

Jojo playlist, joel master list, @toxicfics for notifs

SUMMARY: PWP. Phone sex and just-got-out-of-jail sex.

WARNINGS: I8+, dirty talk, jacking off, groping while driving, oral F receiving, Unsafe P in V intercourse, semi-public (bathroom). Reader can sit on a sink.

A/N: cellmate's nephew!Joel, part 3 of 3 (just 8k total) , follows Jailbird and Collect Calls but you just need to know his aunt Mabel is your cellmate. This is the last of Jailbird for the foreseeable future. It’s been a fun diversion. This is not the last of Jojo.

—---

All goes well at your parole hearing. After you get your 72 Hour release notice, you call Joel.

He answers the phone, "You're gettin' out," and you can hear his smile.

"How did you–did Mabel tell you?"

"Had a feeling. So what, 3 days now?" He opens and squirts the lube.

"9pm Monday."

"You just made my dick so hard, baby."

"Jojo. . ."

"Hmm?"

"God, sorry - Joel"

"Call me whatever ya want, jailbird. Mm. Call me joel, call me jojo--mm, call me call me any time baby”

“Can’t wait to be on the other side of that glass.”

"And I'm gonna pop that post-penny cherry" (post-penitentiary)

“Shhh”

"What they're gonna un-parole ya 'cause there’s a hard dick waitin’ for ya?"

“Well, I like the sound of that,” you purr.

“Oh we’re gonna get nasty, baby,” he breathes.

“Mmm”

“You wear thongs, g-strings, whatcha wear?” His fist slurps up and down his cock.

“Thongs,” you tell him. “Boy shorts if I wanna be comfy.”

“Damn. . . that ass in boy shorts? Whew.”

“How ‘bout you?”

“Boxer briefs.”

“Mm, shoulda known. Those tight-ass pants”

“Yeah, ya like’em?”

“Like how ya wear’em”

“How’s that”

“Packing somethin’ fat and juicy for me.”

He moans. “Fuck yeah i am, just for you baby”

“Just for me?”

“‘S’all for you, baby. How ya want it first?”

“Honey, I just want it.”

“Can i come inside ya?”

“Mmmm, yeah. . .”

“Fuck, i’m gonna pump you full,” his voice tells you he’s already close.

“You better.”

“Fuck yeah, baby.” His hand is moving faster. “Ohhh, fuck” He shudders and groans long and drawn out as he comes.

“Started without me didn’t ya”

“Wouldn’t do that,” he says in a transparently false tone.

“Hope ya can last longer than that,” you tease.

“Fuck you,” he laughs. “Shit, maybe I can’t. ‘S’what ya do to me, baby.”

“Then we’ll just have to do it again.”

“Oh I’m grocery shoppin’ like it’s the apocalypse. Won’t have to leave the house for a week.”

—------

Mabel gives you one last poke-and-stick tattoo, a heart on your other hand, mirroring the location of your "clover." The last thing she tells you is, “He’s snipped, ya know. I took care of him after he did it. ”

“Nice.”

“Yeah, he knows he's not dad material," she explains, then lightens the mood with, "he's daddy, not dad," and a wink.

You're gonna miss her. But if things go well with Joel, you’ll see her again in a few months.

—----

Walking down the ramp from the tower toward the jail lobby, you can taste the freedom and almost forget what you’re wearing – booty skirt, platform heels, mesh crop top, fishnets.

His posture is what catches your eye first. Feet spread, arms crossed. Your eyes fall to his bulge then pan up to a white t-shirt struggling to contain the tattooed arms crossed in front of him. Gold chain, Adam's Apple. As his face comes into focus, he tilts his head back and squints, pursing his lips in a pained expression as he looks at you. His expression is enough to remind you what you’re wearing. By the time you reach him, he’s biting his lip, shaking his head at you with his eyes smiling.

He opens his arms and wraps around you for a full-body hug. He smells like fresh cologne, and he feels safe and comfortable. He feels like – ohhh, yeah, he’s already getting hard. You’re holding a plastic bag of your belongings—phone and keys—against his back.

“God damn,” he whispers into your hair and his pelvis subtly presses his growing arousal into you. He murmurs, “Mmm, let’s get the fuck outta here.”

He grabs your hand and your shoes click as you walk through the sliding doors to the parking lot. As soon as the doors slide closed behind you, he drops your hand and grabs your ass. His hand spans much more of your asscheek than you're used to. The beauty of the sky at dusk overwhelms you, even with the lights from the jail.

“Let’s make it to the car,” you laugh.

He puffs out his cheeks with an exhale and gets his keys out of his pocket with his free hand. Then he points to a big truck and unlocks it.

He opens the truck door for you and his hand on your ass helps you up into the seat. Oh the simple joy of getting in a vehicle. You start to grab the seatbelt, and he tells you, “nah, hold on a sec.” When he gets in the driver’s seat he slams up the center console, slides over and you turn to face him as he reaches you.

He grabs the back of your head and pulls your face into his. His tongue parts your lips and his mouth is minty. He sucks hard and gently chews your lips as he grabs your far thigh and puts it over his lap. Then he grabs you by both hips and pulls you all the way into his lap with your help so you’re straddling him. When your crotch meets the warm steel rod in his pants, you whimper and he sighs vocally. Then your mouths connect again. You’ve been dying of thirst and he’s a tall glass of water; you just can’t get enough.

His hands run down your fishnet thighs as you grind on him and make out. He playfully plucks one of the diamonds and murmurs in such a deep voice, “Thought ya weren’t wearin’ these, hmm?” Then he attacks your neck with his mouth, and you sigh. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a Corrections Officer headed your way.

“Shit,” you say, “We should go.”

He groans.

“They're comin’, we gotta go,” you repeat and pry yourself off of him.

He takes a deep breath and his hips lift out of the seat as he adjusts himself, then scoots back over to the driver’s seat and buckles his seatbelt. You start to go back to the passenger seat and buckle yours, but he says, “get back over here.” He hands you the middle seatbelt.

—----

You tease, “we 'bout to peel outta here?”

"Buckle up, baby.”

He puts his hand behind you to back up. A whiff of his sweat under the cologne makes you want him even worse.

You awkwardly try to keep your hands to yourself. He’s the one driving, so you’ll let him initiate any distraction. "Where we headed?"

"How ‘bout we get ya some real food, ya hungry?”

“Yeah, I could eat.”

He gives a low whistle and says, “so could I, baby. can’t wait to taste ya." He looks at your legs. “Fuck.” He puts his hand on your thigh, a ring pressing into your skin. “Mmm.” His voice is so deep. “Been savin’ this just for me, huh?'' His wrist pushes your skirt out of the way as his hand slides toward your crotch. He finds your clit with ease, even while driving. He clearly knows what he’s doing and he could get you off like this in a minute or two, but he needs his hand back to make some turns.

You put your hand on his meaty thigh and ask “can I. . .”

“*can* you? Fuck yeah you can” He lifts his elbow, welcoming your hand to his lap.

You grab the bulge in his jeans and get a zap of need in your core. You slowly press your hand into his warm, hard package and feel the outline of his thick cock. You’re aching for him. You’re about to ask him to pull over when he puts on the blinker and see you’ve arrived at Waffle House.

“Here good?” He says as he pulls into a parking space.

“Hell yeah,” you answer.

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Cause if ya don’t like WaHo, we ain’t gonna work anyway.” You both unbuckle your seatbelts.

"Oh, here," you take your hand back as he reaches back behind the passenger seat, and your eyes glue to his huge bulge. He hands you a leather jacket, and says, “Just if ya want it.” It’s a little warm for it, but it’s a nice thought if you wanted to cover up. At WaHo, you don’t really care. That’s the magic of it. He reaches back behind the seat again and you glance at his earring. He returns with a target bag.

You peek into the bag. There’s a casual tank dress, flip flops, and . ..boy shorts. Your heart flutters that his dirty question led to such a wholesome gesture.

“You bought me clothes?”

“Yeah, coulda brought some’a Mabel’s but–”

“That could get weird”

“Yeah.”

—---

You walk in front of Jojo into the breezeway, then into the restaurant. No one bats an eye at how you’re dressed. You hold up the bag of clothes and ask, “Mind if I change ‘fore we eat?” A waitress behind the counter leans to the side to look around you, checks Jojo out and says, “get it, girl.”

“That’s what i’m talkin’ bout,” Jojo murmurs to you and gives her a wink.

Both the individual bathrooms are occupied. Joel stands with his back against the wall facing the bathrooms, so y’all are waiting out of view of the grill. You’re facing him. He grabs your ass with both hands, pulling you into him, massive erection straining his pants, yearning to get to you. His cock digs into your front. You kiss him and he kneads your butt cheeks as your mouths consume each other. He moans quietly into your mouth. His hard cock twitches against you.

He breaks the kiss and breathes heavily against your ear, then whispers “feel like i’m gonna die.”

A toilet flushes. The bathroom smells faintly of cleaning supplies, and it doesn’t look dirty. The illusion of cleanliness is enough to not think about it.

You wanna be right on top of him, but as he locks the door, you find yourself slowly taking a step backwards, watching him in anticipation, almost like you’re daring him to come after you and show you what he’s got. He looks at you darkly and prowls toward you, unbuckling his belt, lips parted, eyes dark like a stalking animal. You freeze. He unbuttons his jeans and walks until his hardness bumps into your thigh.

Then, at a faster pace, he walks you almost all the way to the sink, then grabs your butt to stop you. He hikes up your skirt so it's all the way over your ass. He grabs your ass with one hand and pulls you into him again. The strength of his erection through his exposed boxer briefs gives you another shock of arousal on top of your already desperate need. He pulls back his hips enough for his free hand to engulf your crotch. His thick middle finger presses down on the (very) damp spot in your leggings.

"Soaked for me, aren't ya?" The hand on your ass slides down and curls between your legs. His warm finger slips into one of the fishnet holes.

He uses both hands, one from the front and one from the back, to rip open the fishnets. “Fuck yeah,” he growls. The hand from the back returns to your asscheek, while the other hand remains between your legs. The side of his index finger meets your dripping seam. “Mmmmmm,” he slides his hand up and down for just a couple of seconds, then looks at the sink. “Think ya can sit up here?”

“mm. yeah, if you–”

He helps you onto the edge of the sink. You hold onto the sides and he immediately squats down with his head between your legs.

“Just fuck me,” you say, dying to have him inside you. Your walls are twitching as though your cunt is making a gimme gimme motion like a fist.

“i gotta taste ya," he mumbles as he spreads your thighs. “Sorry, just a sec.” He further rips the fishnets, exposing you to the cool air then sighs, “fuck,” as he reaches behind you to hold your ass. He whispers “just real quick,” his hot breath on your mound, before he plants his mouth on your cunt.

He licks at your entrance. “Mmmm,” he tongues and sucks your clit, then takes one hand off your ass to palm his boxer briefs.

You fist his hair, sighing, “Ohh God, I need that cock, baby. We got time for this later.” You’re physically aching to be filled.

He kisses your clit goodbye, then whispers, "god damn." He puts both hands on your thighs as he stands up. When he’s standing, he yanks his boxer briefs down and his naked cock bobs heavily, making you nearly drool. He’s shaved. It’s thick. Length-wise you might be able to take it. The girth will be a stretch.

He curls his fingers under your mesh crop top and you raise your arms as he discards it. “Fuck it, you’re changin’, right?” He tugs at your bra, and you take it off.

“Oh, fuck me,” he takes in the sight of your tits and can’t resist sucking a nipple into his mouth while palming the other.

You grab his cock. “Are you gonna put this in me tonight or nah?”

“God damn, you need it don’t ya?” He wraps an arm around you and you put your arms around his neck. He nudges you by the ass toward the edge.

“fuck just give it to me.”

He runs his swollen, mauve tip through your slick, then notches it at your entrance and plunges into you with a groan. You gasp as his girth spreads you apart. You can’t remember the last time you felt a stretch like this. But he pushes it right in. You’re so turned on, it works. You watch his cock disappear into you. You glance up at him to see his mouth hanging open with a sigh of relief as his tip nudges your cervix and makes you whole. He sucks in a deep breath as he retreats, then says “FUCK, that’s a nice cunt.”

His fingers dig into the plush flesh of your ass and he begins to fuck you. You pull up his shirt and it’s so tight that it stays where you leave it. He has a slutty little hip tattoo that says yeah. His lips latch onto yours as he buries his length in you again and again. It’s all sucking and biting and hot, humid breath as you moan against each other’s cheeks before your tongues are in each other’s mouths again. The bottom half of your face gets slobbery. He fucks you like he means it, grunting and moaning, “oh yeah.” Your bodies are dewy where your skin meets.

You wrap your legs around him. Your pelvis grinds against his and your orgasm is building. You tell him, “Don’t hold back”

“You want me to last?” He asks as he pumps in and out of you.

“In here?--ohhhh–time for that later”

“Oh, you already close, ain’t ya?” he speeds up and his chain bounces with the power of his motions. “Fuck yeah, baby, c’mere, c’,mon” His cock pistons into you. It’s even better than you imagined so many times in your pathetic excuse for a bed. Oh shit, will you really sleep together? The thought of it melts you. The thought of a real bed alone melts you, but with him, with this cock inches away, god this cock, it feels so, it’s so—A primal grunt comes from his chest. His heavy breathing and grinding against your clit have you on the edge ready to tip.

You whimper, “baby,” pinching your eyes shut.

He grips your ass harder and grinds his shaved pubic bone into you as he fucks you smooth and fast. He fucks like a porn star. “C’mon, jailbird.”

He buries his length in you even faster, then pleasure seizes your whole body and you come on his fat cock.

“Ohhhhh yeah, fuck yeah,” he breathes.

He thrusts into you a few more times, “fuck, baby,” then bottoms out and erupts. He sighs a long sigh as his warm release coats your insides.

“Mmmm,” you savor the pulse of his cock and you twitch with aftershocks. “Oh, god.” He hugs you and you rest your head on his chest while you both catch your breath. His chain feels massive on on your cheek.

Someone finally knocks on the door. He pulls out and helps you down off the sink.

“Someone in here,” he tells them. He pulls up his pants, then leans against the tile of the bathroom wall as he zips them up and fastens his belt while you change.

You thank him again for the clothes as you look in the mirror and turn around.

“Look good on ya. Guess I did alright.”

His face is flushed pink and his hair is a little messed up. He seems to notice you looking at his face and he pushes himself off the wall to look in the mirror. He rakes his hand through his hair, then scratches one side of his beard, turning away from the mirror.

–

You sit down for a late dinner. Neither of you look at the menu. Jojo orders cherry coke and a texas cheesesteak with double hashbrowns covered, smothered, and chunked. You order your favorite meal and he compliments it. Your eyes are on his forearms and tattoos. As he brings the sandwich to his mouth. God damn, how’d this fine ass man practically fall in your lap? You feel like you owe Mabel big time.

You ask, “You really go grocery shoppin’?”

He raises his eyebrows and smiles with his mouth full, nodding. “Mmm-hmm.” After he finishes chewing he washes it down with a sip of cherry coke, then adds, “but you know what i really want.” He looks at you darkly. “So tell me it’s all you can eat, baby.”

“Just for you, Jojo. . .”

-----

yeah he wants to be covered and smothered in that.

Thank you so much for reading and engaging. I love your passion and your comments and reblogs really motivate me. <333

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@toxicfics for notifications, make sure your phone is set to enable push notifications from tumblr.

⚠️ Since so many people are saying tags aren't working, I may discontinue the tag list ⚠️

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #toxicanonymity ☠️#cellmate's nephew!joel #CN!Joel Miller #CN!Joel #cellmate's nephew!joel miller #jojo ☠️#finally f*cking Friday #joel x reader

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alonetimelover · 8 months

Text

pairing: Harry Styles x physicist!reader

summary: The aftermath of the leak is hard on everybody in dr YN YSN's circle, but especially for her. The gossip, magazines, paparazzi and haters do not help the case.

warnings: hate speech, swearing

a/n: hi! so yes, this is a re-upload of the 3rd part of the physicist!reader. earlier this week tumblr wasn't working with me, not showing this on tags or even my own home page. and with that, i decided to post it again so maybe some more of you could know what's been happening in the world of physicist!reader. i hope you'll enjoy!

part 1 part 2 taglist

@celesteblack08

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The Sun

Oxford Is Firing The Famous 'Higgs Professor' and Harry Styles' Girlfriend Dr YN YSN

Written by John Addams

The infamous and TikTok sensation dr YN YSN, lecturer at Oxford University, is being fired after intimate photos of her and boyfriend, Harry Styles, saw the light of the day.

Starting at the beginning, the relationship between two became a fact over a year ago, when dr YSN went viral for her explanation of the Higgs mechanism based on Harry Styles' music. As we got to know from their joined street interview for meetcutesnyc on Instagram, the relationship florished after meeting at their mutual friend's (Christopher Nolan) party. Dr YN YSN was the science consultant for the director's latest movie, Oppenheimer, and Harry starred in one of his films, Dunkirk - making it happen.

Everything was going smoothly till the morning of three days ago. YN's iCloud was hacked, revealing personal and intimate information about not only the owner but her boyfriend as well.

'Dean is furious,' says our source. 'He cannot believe that the best lecturer could be this reckless'.' After the posed question on whether the decision of firing could be announced any time soon, they said, 'it's just the matter of time. But it's going to be sooner rather than later. Oxford is going to lose a fair and talented professor, but it is not its fault. Someone was the author of those, let's say information that was exposed. And it's going to be their fault entirely.'

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harrysmoustache

liked by hArrysbtch, harryupdates and 23 482 others

harrysmoustache Harry and YN couldn't leave the restaurant safely because a bunch of paps and 'fans' showed up at the location. Not only was it physically dangerous, but the things that were spoken towards (mostly) YN were disgusting. Calling her names and ready to fire her on the spot because of the PRIVATE PHOTOS she took with her boyfriend, which then someone ILLIGALY POSTED ONLINE after HACKING HER ICLOUD. Did y'all forget about TREAT PEOPLE WITH KINDNESS?????

view all 5 402 comments

harrysmoustache and don't make me start on that bullshit that the sun did... RIDICULOUS

harryupdates After all those years, and all those situations that he went through, I'm still surprised that people can be this cruel to him and people that he loves

hArrysbtch they hatin' my girl cause of some sexy photos... bastards

hArrysbtch why would they care what she does after Uni hours??? it's none of your business

scienceandharstyles it's heartbreaking to see a person that gives others the world and shares her knowledge and wears her heart on her sleeve being treated like garbage

harrymylove those were not harry fans

stylesbabie monstrosity

user56 why do y'all care for her this much??? jezz..

⤷ hArrysbtch maybe because she's a good human being treated like the worst person alive just because she snapped a few photos of her and her boyfriend

⤷ user56 wouldn't that be the consequences of her own actions?

⤷ hArrysbtch nope. her phone was hacked. how many times you take photos of yourself and think 'oh god, what if my gonna be hacked and this will be posted?'

⤷ harrysmoustache hArrysbtch ohhh, babes!!! you closed that haters mouth!!!!

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drynysn

liked by harrystyles, harryupdates and 738 492 others

drynysn During one of my latest lectures one of the students asked about accuracy in Sci-Fi movies, so I decided to start a little series of: Is this SCIENCE or just FICTION? Firstly, we'd look into the scene from Spider-Man 2 (2004). The scene where Peter Parker (Spider-Man) is stopping the train from its eventual crash. he shot multiple web lines, then they stretched and didn't break. One would say it is not possible. But! From the way the scene is shown to us, we are able to estimate how strong the web needed to be for it to happen. After looking up the train's mass, you can estimate its initial velocity (how far it can go per hour, so km/h) by seeing exactly how long it takes to pass the city blocks. (1)

view all 19 934 comments

drynysn (2) You can look up, measure, the distance over the webbing stretches, and then estimate its diameter . You can also count the number of web lines. NOW, we end up with a tensile (fancy way of saying elastic) strength for the webbing that has to be about 1 000 megapascals (mega meaning milion) which is equivalent to about 102 036 704 kilograms per square metre (which is 145 000 lbs/square inch - for you, my American friends on here).

drynysn (3) What is absolutely mind-blowing is the fact that actual spider silk has a tensile strength of 1 200 megapascals. So, if Spider-Man's webbing would be anyway that strong, that scene was very, very realistic. Rating it 9/10. What scene would you like to see next?

scienceandharstyles that is so informative and making this movie even more iconic!! Did you do all the equations by yourself, dr YSN?

⤷ drynysn Yes, I did! Took me some time to analyse the scene but it was worth it!

harryupdates oh, i need to rewatch this movie immediately!!!

harryismylife could the next scene be the one from The Avengers where Mjolnir after contacting Cap's shield makes that blue light? is that even possible?

⤷ drynysn that's a great scene! i'll look over it!

hArrysbtch i love the little explanations in brackets! i didn't need to look up the tensile thingy!

harrysmoustache you're telling me the scene i was 100% sure was as fake as my eyelashes is true???

user45 maybe you should try explaining showing of that body of yours

user75 is this the new way to make money after being fired?

user281 unemployment doesn't suit you but the consequences of your actions finally caught up with you

user374 i think you should start posting one of those photos the sun included in their article - you'll get more attention

comments to this post have been disabled

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harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, harrymoustache nad 54 292 others

harryupdates HARRY nad DR YN spotted in a small restaurant in Oxford (i'm disabling the comments cause i don't want to deal with the haters)

view all 74 comments

hArrysbtch MY PARENTS!!!!!!!! ARE BACK AFTER THE WEEKS OF DRAUGHT!!!!!

hArrysbtch and they look goooood

harrysmoustache i missed them so much..

stylesbabie yn looks so tired and sad

⤷ hArrysbtch it's just one phot of one moment

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harrystyles via close friends IG story

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londonboyharry

liked by harryupdates nad 14 302 others

londoboyharry went to oxford to bump into harry. it's better! i met dr yn ysn, drank coffee with her, talked and laughed my ass off! she is the funniest, kindest and most down to earth person i've ever met. also, after i asked her about all the things that were happening around her, she just said 'what things?' WITH A SMIRK ON HER FACE, SIPPING HER LITTLE AMERICANO AND BEING UNBOTHERED

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harryupdates im so happy that she gives no damn to those people online

hArrysbtch I LOVE HER

harrymoustache the moment the legend the IT girl

stylesbabie happy for you!!!

harrysmylife who would want to meet harry when you can meet dr yn ysn?

scienceandharstyles best woman alive

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scienceandharstyles

liked by drynysn, harrystyles and 56 482 others

scienceandharstyles WE GRADUATED OXFORD!!! to anybody who said there was no way to incorporating pop culture with a biology degree? eat shit! i wrote the whole masters based on musicians' impact on fans' hormonal production. hehe. ALSO, it would not be possible withouth the best teacher, academic inspiration, and person I've ever met - dr YN YSN. thank you!

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drynysn MADELINE, I am so proud of you. It would be not possible without your persisatnce and will to find solutions and answers. This is all yours!

harrystyles Congratulations, Madeline! H, xx.

harryupdates congrats maddie!!

stylesbabie very very proud

harrysmoustache did you perhaps use harry as an example in your work?

⤷ scienceandharstyles YES, I did. Only positive affect of his voice, music and visuals...

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oxford_uni

liked by harrystyles, harryupdates and 748 392 others

oxford_uni Acknowledging the upheaval around one of our lecturers - dr YN YSN, the Chancellor of Oxford University and the Dean of The Department of Physics decided to release the joined statement:

Refuting the words ans statements made by publishers not connected to our University, we would like to inform anybody in concern that one of our grates lecturers dr YN YSN is not decruited. The matter of private life is not concern of the University authority, even more when the said privacy was bridged. At this place, we would like to wish luck during dr YN YSN' s new path - becoming a professor.

view all 64 855 comments

harrystyles <3

harryupdates I KNEW IT

hArrysbtch EAT SHIT THE SUN, EAT SHIT JOHN ADDAMS

harrysmoustache HAHHAHAHAHAHA I KNEW IT !!!!!! BABY THERE WAS NO WAY THEY WOULD FIRE HER

stylesbabie thank god! there is still hope for this world

scienceandharstyles Chancellor and Dean with the best decision ever made

harrysmylife now haters what??? ha??

harrysfan87 i believed in you guys i did

londonboyharry becoming a professor???? good luck yn!!!

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yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, annetwist and 275 others

yourinstagram There was no better thing that happened to me than meeting you. You support means the world. I love you forever.

view all 36 comments

harrystyles Loving you is the greatest honour of all time, my heart <3

annetwist My favourite girl in the world! (besides my daughter)

⤷ gemmastyles Thanks for clarifying, mum

gemmastyles My sister from another mister!

yourbestfriend We need to finally meet up!

⤷ yourinstagram yessss!

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harrystyles

liked by yourinstagram, harryupdates, annetwist and 10 746 646 others

harrystyles You're just finishing one of your latest publications on the way to becoming a professor. I couldn't have been more proud and honoured to accompany you during this time.

view all 98 757 comments

yourinstagram I love you I love you I love you

annetwist Our smart professor. <3

harryupdates ohhhhhh *melting*

hArrysbtch I'll never get over him posting her on here

harrysmoustache we are back to normal, baby!!!

scienceandharstyles professor YN YSN sounds amazing

harrysmylife BEST. COUPLE. EVER.

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a/n: did you like the way it turned out?

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles instagram #harry styles fake ig #scientist!reader #physicist!reader

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whataperfectwasteoftime · 9 months

Text

Spilled Ink

Pairing: Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike x f!reader

Word Count: 7.5k

Summary: Uhhh Marcus Pike as the world's softest tattoo artist that's it that's the fic.

Warnings: Lots of tattoo talk, obviously, which includes needles, tattoo guns, pain, mention of bleeding, etc.; reader is explicitly coded as neurodivergent because I said so; yearning; lots of kissing; Marcus Pike being a goddamn menace and he fucking knows it

A/N: @kedsandtubesocks made a post about Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike (original post HERE) and then I wrote 7.5k words in 12 hours, as one does. All credit for the idea goes to the amazing Erika who entrusted me with this idea and THANK GOD SHE DID because I don't think I could have gotten it out of my stupid brain otherwise. Header pics credit go to Erin @perotovar, who made these with Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike in mind and I'm just WOOFWOOFBARKBARKBARKBARKHOWL. Thanks also to @littlebirdsbookshelf who suffers through HOURS of me sending screenshots every time I write anything. Love you <3

Additional Note on Canon: I am pretending that we never got to see Marcus Pike in short sleeves in the show despite it happening twice. He has full sleeves on both his arms in this fic that he covered up during his time working at the FBI. Because sleeves are hot and I said so.

Masterlist

It’s not unusual, these days, to wander down the sidewalk staring at your phone. Some people are texting. Some people are reading the news–because hey, this is D.C. Others, like you on this brisk morning, are watching the little blue dot on a tiny representation of the city streets, trying to find the address you had typed into the search bar.

A text box pops up, informing you of your arrival, and you finally look up.

No wonder it took you so long to find the place–it’s hardly what you expected at all. You always picture tacky neon signs, bars on the windows, undesirables milling about on the street, smoking cigarettes.

Okay, so you admittedly don’t actually know much about tattoos.

All you know is that you want one–a fact you confessed to a friend over lunch the other week: a conversation that led you here.

“Okay, so get one,” she had said bluntly.

“It’s not all that simple,” you had protested.

“Why?”

“It’s just… it seems like a lot. Mentally. Physically. I’m not sure I have what it takes.”

“They don’t hurt that bad,” your friend had insisted.

“I’m not just talking about that, I’m talking about… y’know, just everything. The noise. New people. Strangers touching me. It just doesn’t seem like something I’ll be able to do.”

“Oh. Ohhh. Because of the… yep. Actually I might have something for you,” she said, taking out her phone and scrolling through that app that drives you crazy–it’s overstimulation in a convenient package–full of noise, chaos, and flashing lights.

She must have seen you pull a face, because she held out her hand placatingly.

“Just finding the name of the place, hang on. It’s a shop right here in DC that went ‘viral’ for this video of a guy with autism who wanted a tattoo to commemorate his dad, but he was only comfortable lying on the floor–so the tattoo artist just… got on the floor with him! It was really cute, and anyway I guess he caters to all sorts of people, so… I dunno. Check it out.”

And here you are. Checking it out.

The words “Government-Issued Ink” are spelled out on large windows, and the punny name–apt for its location not far from the Capitol–makes you snort.

The shop is bright, warm, and inviting–tearing down your outdated preconceptions that tattoo places must always be run-down, dark, and dingy. It’s also empty this early in the morning, save for a lone figure in the back, seated at a well-worn desk, his head pitched forward over his work.

He’s so enveloped in whatever he’s sketching that he must not have heard the light ringing of the bell as you had entered. You watch him for a few moments–taking in the graceful movements of his hand and the way his fingers grasp the pen. He’s dressed in a plain blue button-down dress shirt, which also doesn’t fit your assumed archetype of ‘Tattoo Artist.’ You can’t see his face; his head is leaning forward too much and a few short locks of dark brown hair obscure your view.

Suddenly wondering if you’re being incredibly rude, staring at someone without announcing your presence, you open your mouth to introduce yourself.

“Um.”

While not exactly eloquent, it serves its purpose. The man startles and looks up in surprise.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, jumping to his feet and letting the pen clatter carelessly to the desk. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“That’s okay,” you shake your head rapidly. “I was, um…” You blink a few times, your nerves getting the better of you as the man comes around his desk to approach the front of the store.

“Interested in a walk-in consultation?” he offers, holding out his hands in a gesture that could either be an open invitation or a shrug.

“I don’t know,” you confess quietly. “I was thinking about getting, uh, a tattoo, and I was told this shop was… good. With tattoos. And other stuff.”

“Other stuff?” he chuckles, smiling warmly.

“You know… with people who… might not be good at getting tattoos.”

“What makes you think you aren’t ‘good at getting tattoos?’”

“A hunch,” you shrug, expelling a little huff of laughter through your nose. “I was told to ask for a Marcus Pike?”

The man’s smile widens. “You’re looking at him.”

Oh. You aren’t sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this. Marcus Pike is well-dressed and clean-cut, almost startlingly so. You scan up and down, looking for any sign that this man could possibly be a tattoo artist, but the only evidence you can find is a small black target inked between his thumb and forefinger on his right hand. Don’t… tattoo artists usually have more ink? Of course, with him almost completely covered from head to toe, you obviously can’t create a full picture of Marcus’s skin, but the fact that he wouldn’t look out of place in one of the nearby government buildings still takes you by surprise.

You realize you haven’t said anything in response, but Marcus doesn’t seem to be bothered by your deer-in-headlights stare. Instead, he grins again and steps sideways, extending his arm in a silent invitation to come deeper into the shop.

“Come on in. If you’d like, go ahead and sit wherever you want, and we can talk about it. No pressure,” he promises. “I’m not here to push ink on you like a used car salesman; I’m here to collaborate with you. Figure out what you really want. And, if what you want ends up being ‘nothing,’ I totally support that, too.”

There’s something innate and intrinsic about Marcus Pike that sets you completely at-ease. You cast your eyes around, taking in the eclectic seating in the shop–all mismatched, all different colors, styles, and shapes, but all looking incredibly comfortable and inviting. You settle on a giant turquoise beanbag that seems to swallow you whole when you sink down into it, and Marcus grins and sits down in the bright yellow saucer chair beside it.

“So at the very least, you’re thinking about a tattoo,” Marcus leads. “Can you tell me about that?”

You nod, feeling encouraged by his openness. “Yeah, so… my mom, she passed away a couple of years ago, and it just seemed like I should… memorialize her in some way. Like, in a way that leaves its mark on me like she left a mark on me, and I just couldn’t stop thinking about the idea of getting some kind of permanent art that commemorates her.”

“That’s a great idea,” Marcus says softly. “Lots of people choose to do that after losing a loved one.”

“Yeah, the only problem is that I’m not good with um… noise, or people touching me, or… pain, really,” you confess. “I’m like, the worst candidate for getting a tattoo that exists.”

Marcus chuckles softly and shakes his head. “Personally, I don’t believe that. I think anyone can get a tattoo done if they want it, provided they get it done in a way that feels safe and comfortable.”

“My friend, she uh, recommended your shop because apparently you’ve done some stuff for people with autism and it went viral on TikTok…” you ramble, “and I thought maybe that meant you’d be a good fit for… for me.”

Understanding flickers in Marcus’s expression, and he nods, a small smile spreading across his face. “I hope so,” he says with quiet earnesty.

A beat passes–just a few seconds of silence–but something small and soft and warm settles down between the two of you, and the comforting feeling sinks down into the pit of your stomach and stays there, latent and waiting.

“So, let’s talk design,” Marcus announces. “Do you have anything in mind? Any images or ideas, however vague? I can do anything from replicating designs to building something completely from scratch for you.”

“I like the idea of it being a unique piece,” you tell him.

“I prefer original designs too,” he says. “Not to sound incredibly cheesy, but there’s no one like you, you know? In–In the general sense, of course.” He chuckles sheepishly, looking down at his hands. “I like knowing each person that comes in here leaves with something unique. Something all their own—I’m rambling,” he says quickly, the tips of his ears turning slightly pink. “One thing about me is that I talk too much. Anyway–did you have any ideas you can share with me about what you’d like?”

“I don’t have a good image in my mind,” you confess anxiously. After all, how can he build a design based on the swirling, disjointed images in your brain? “I think I want it to be colorful, like she was. And… I keep getting thoughts about, I dunno, the cyclical nature of life, something corny like that.”

Marcus laughs. “Sometimes the corny stuff is what sticks with us. So, colorful and commenting on the cyclical nature of life,” he lists off on his fingers, still grinning. “Anything else?”

“I’ve looked through your galleries online,” you tell him. “You have a few that look like watercolor paintings, and I really love how they look.”

He nods thoughtfully. “I’m gonna throw out an idea—Feel free to tell me ‘no,’ because I’m just brainstorming here, but I keep thinking about a tree of life. The leaves could easily be done in watercolor and could be any combination of colors you want.” His right hand twitches–as if reaching for a phantom pen–as he speaks, and his gaze seems to be fixed on a spot on the wall, his eyes glimmering with enthusiasm as he starts to speak faster.

“You could have the leaves and the roots connecting on the sides, making a circle, maybe even having her birth date and death date embedded in the roots…” He blinks rapidly a few times, as if dispelling the image from his head. “Anyway. That’s a possibility.”

“I think that’s amazing,” you say softly, watching Marcus with something like amazement in your expression. “Actually… I really like that idea. It sounds… perfect.”

“Oh,” he intones softly, looking at you in surprise as a bright, toothy smile breaks across his face. “Oh. Well then, let’s do it, huh? One final question: where do you envision getting it?”

“I was thinking on my shoulder. Here,” you indicate, pressing your hand to the skin of your upper arm. “That way it’s visible when I want it to be, but easily hidden if for some reason it needs to be.”

“That’s perfect,” Marcus says. “Plus, the circular design will go really well there. Okay. Great. Um, some things to know about the process. We’ll exchange emails, and you can contact me at any time with any questions, concerns, ideas, changes, anything. In the meantime, I’ll get started on a design for you, and I’ll share initial sketches that you can give feedback on before I move to the final stages of the design. It’ll take a couple of weeks, maximum, depending on any changes you ask for. My only request is that you’re always honest with your feedback–don’t tell me you like something when you don’t. I promise, it won’t hurt my feelings.” He grins widely. “After that, you book an appointment on a day that works best for you. I almost always book the whole day for the appointment to factor in time for copious breaks and making sure you feel comfortable. Does that work for you?”

You nod eagerly.

“Last question,” Marcus says. “Is it okay if I get a close-up picture of your upper arm? That way I can make sure it fits the curvature of your arm, it’s the right size, stuff like that.”

“Mhmm,” you nod again, pressing your lips together and trying not to look nervous. Thank god you wore a sleeveless top under your sweater.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” he insists.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you say quickly, removing just the one arm from your outer layer and pulling it aside.

You watch as Marcus grabs a little ‘point-and-shoot’ digital camera from his desk and comes back to your side.

“This is just used for design purposes,” he promises. “I delete them after the design is done.”

“I trust you.”

His resulting expression could light an entire room. “Thank you,” he answers quietly. “Okay. Super close-up, just your arm. Cool?”

“Cool,” you confirm, and you hear the camera click several times.

“Actually,” Marcus says, still staring thoughtfully at your bare shoulder. “Would it be okay if I made a couple of little marks–washable marker, of course–to make sure the dimensions are how you want them?”

Oh. You normally don’t like it when people touch you. You knew it was going to happen eventually, obviously, because how else was he going to get the design onto your skin? But it was something you had planned on working yourself up to, not something you had to do today. On the other hand, something about Marcus’s entire bearing makes you inexplicably ache to be touched by him.

“‘No’ is an acceptable response,” he interrupts your dithering with a quiet reassurance.

And actually, that works to seal the deal for you, and your decision is made in an instant.

“Yes. You can. That’s fine.” And, to your surprise, you mean it.

Marcus seems just as surprised at your answer–his eyebrows shoot upward almost comically at your response.

“Okay,” he says softly. “That’s perfect. Hang on.” He jumps up again to retrieve a black marker–from what was clearly a children’s set of washable markers. He meets your eyes, and again you take in that sincere, earnest, patient look that endeared you to this man from the moment you entered the little shop.

“Is it okay if I touch your arm?” he asks quietly, still watching you carefully as you nod.

“Tell me if that changes,” he murmurs, dropping his gaze to your shoulder again. His touch, when you feel it, is just as warm as you’d imagined. He’s gentle, cautious, and when he speaks again, his voice remains at that same, soft volume and tone. “I’m envisioning being from about here–” he makes a little black dot, “–to here. What do you think?”

You nod. It’s the perfect size–large enough to cover your shoulder but stopping just above the point where the sleeve of a regular t-shirt would hit.

“That’s perfect.”

“Okay, so that’s–” he tsks softly, measuring the distance with his finger, “–about four inches, so that same distance across, and–” he makes two more marks on either side of your shoulder. “About like that. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” you answer, smiling with enthusiasm.

“Great! Let me just…” Marcus draws a few short lines denoting the proposed boundary of your design, and you can’t help the soft giggle that escapes you at the cool tip of the marker on your skin.

“Sorry,” he chuckles. “One more picture?”

At your nod, the camera clicks one last time.

“Like I said, that’ll wash off with soap, no problem,” he promises with a smile. “Thanks for that, makes it easier to scale.” He grabs two business cards off his desk and hands them to you. “Can you write your email on this one for me? And you can keep the other one. Like I said, anything you need, just email me. And uh, barring that, you’ll be hearing from me in a week or so with a rough sketch. Okay?”

You scribble down your email and hand the card back to Marcus before pulling your sweater back over your bare arm. You slip the other card into your purse and rise to your feet. “Thanks,” you say, nodding to him.

“Hey, no–thank you,” Marcus returns. “Thanks for entrusting me with this. I mean it.”

Surprising yourself, you extend your hand toward him, and, when he takes it, you feel enveloped with warmth again.

“Thanks,” repeat, a little bit more breathlessly this time, before turning and hurrying out of the shop before you can embarrass yourself any further.

Your shoulder still tingles from his touch hours later.

Rather than it being a week before you hear from him, you receive an email from Marcus Pike just three days later.

Subject: Initial Sketch

Hello,

Please see attached. It’s just pencil for now, but I made a note of the general blocks of color I was thinking for the leaves. You’ll see what I mean when you open the file. Sorry, I know it’s a pretty rough sketch, I was just excited to get this to you. I look forward to your feedback!

Best regards,

Marcus :)

Eagerly, you open the attachment. First of all, there’s nothing “rough” about the sketch other than the fact that it’s just penciled in. The details are already so intricate, and you find yourself smiling in amazement as you take in the design.

It’s beautiful.

Brackets, each labeled with a different color in Marcus’s neat, tidy handwriting, surround the top of the tree. Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue. Violet.

At the bottom of the image is another handwritten note: *All the colors will blend together and the result should look like a rainbow.

Tears spring, unbidden, to your eyes, as you feverishly type out your response.

Subject: Re: Initial Sketch

Marcus,

I really don’t know what to say other than it’s perfect. It’s absolutely perfect. Made me tear up. Look forward to seeing it in color.

Thanks again!

Not even five minutes go by before your phone vibrates with another email.

Subject: Re: Re: Initial Sketch

I’m sorry if I made you cry! Obviously wasn’t my intention but I’m glad the design evokes emotion :) I’ll move forward with the design as-is and you should hear from me soon with a full-color image.

Marcus :)

You can’t wait. The next week and a half stretches out excruciatingly, but finally, on a Wednesday evening, you receive another email.

Subject: Final Design

Hey there!

Hope you’ve been doing well. Thought you might like to see the final design of your tattoo ;) See attached and let me know if anything needs to be changed. Be critical! Don’t hold anything back! Once we agree on a final piece, we’ll get you on the calendar.

Best regards,

Marcus :)

Your mind skims over the fact that Marcus used a winking-face emoji in your email, because you honestly aren’t equipped to process that right now, and open the attachment instead. This time, you start crying in earnest. It’s perfect. The colors are so vibrant, and they make the tree look as though it’s in a constant state of movement. Your mom’s birth and death dates are entwined seamlessly into the roots themselves, in a way that makes them not readily apparent at first glance, but seeming to just appear out of nowhere upon further inspection.

Subject: Re: Final Design

Marcus,

If I had any critical feedback, I would share it, I promise. But I have nothing. This is everything I’d imagined and more, and it means the world to me.

Thank you so much.

After a few more messages back and forth, you settle on a date one month out.

You can’t wait.

As excited as you’ve been for the past month, when you step foot back into Marcus’s little tattoo parlor, the air of finality makes your body thrum with anxiety.

You’re really doing this.

Marcus is at the back of the shop, busying himself with setting up his workspace when you enter. Today, he’s wearing a dark green henley that looks just as soft as he is, and seems to complement his features even more. As soon as he hears the chimes, his head snaps up, and he grins widely.

“Hey!” he calls out excitedly. “Just getting everything ready. Do you want something to drink before we get started? I’ve got water, juice, soda…” he trails off, waving his hand in the direction of a mini-fridge in the corner.

“I’m okay for now.”

“Sounds good, but when we take a break, you should have some juice or something else with a bit of sugar in it, okay?” You nod, and he continues. “Okay! Where do you want to sit?”

“Don’t I have to sit in the chair over there?” you ask, gesturing to the traditional chair and bench near Marcus’s work table.

“Not at all,” he protests. “The table is mobile, I bring it to wherever you feel comfortable.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly. “I’ll go ahead and sit in the chair, though.” Of all the options, it looks like the easiest–you aren’t entirely sure how Marcus would be able to comfortably tattoo you whilst sitting on a bean bag chair.

“Your choice,” he insists, spreading his hands out in an open and unguarded stance.

You settle in the chair and he sits down on a rolling stool beside you.

“Okay, so I’ve got a stencil of your design here,” Marcus says, holding up a paper with an outline of the tree for you to see. “It’ll transfer onto your skin exactly how you want it to go, and I’ll just trace it. Make sense?”

“Yep,” you nod.

“Before I do that, though, I have to make sure nothing interferes with the design, including tiny little hairs.” He holds up a pink safety razor. “Are you comfortable with me doing this for you?”

At your tentative nod of consent, Marcus leans forward and gently swipes the razor up and down your shoulder until he’s satisfied. His eyes dart between your skin and your face the entire time–making sure you’re still with him. After he’s done, he talks you through the stencil–confirming its location, gently applying it to your shoulder, and then holding up a mirror for you to approve.

“It’s great,” you whisper excitedly.

Marcus returns your smile and begins to absentmindedly roll up his sleeves in preparation to start working–-and the question about tattoos that you’d asked yourself upon first seeing the man is suddenly and unexpectedly answered.

You can’t help the soft sound of surprise that escapes from you when you catch the colorful patchwork of designs on both of his forearms, disappearing under the pushed-up henley and suggesting that they go all the way up.

Marcus catches you staring and grins, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

“I didn’t know,” you say softly. “You keep them covered up.”

“Force of habit,” Marcus shrugs. “I had a desk job for a long time.”

“Doing what?” you ask, curiously. You can’t see the man doing anything but this.

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” he jokes, winking in your direction.

Ignoring how the wink makes your heart stutter in your chest, you bark out a laugh at his answer. “What? Were you like a secret agent or something?” you tease.

“Special Agent,” he corrects, grinning.

“Get out,” you deadpan. “I can’t imagine you as a Fed.”

Marcus shrugs, giving you another one of his boyish, crooked smiles. “Would’ve been fifteen years this year had I not finally seen the writing on the wall and run for the hills a couple of years ago.”

“What made you leave?”

He laughs softly, shaking his head. “That’s a long story. How sensitive are you to noise?” he asks, abruptly changing the subject.

“Uh, I dunno. Kind of depends on the day and the situation,” you shrug.

“Fair. Well, I usually let newcomers listen to what the gun actually sounds like, so there are no surprises. If it’s too loud, I do have noise canceling headphones.”

And miss out on hearing Marcus’s soft-spoken reassurances? No matter how loud the tattoo gun is, you’d rather endure it just to be able to hear him talk.

Marcus turns the instrument on, and the room is filled with a mild buzzing sound. On your worst days, admittedly, it would probably grate upon your nerves, but you’re feeling relaxed, comfortable, and excited about your new tattoo.

“It’s not bad,” you tell him truthfully.

“Perfect,” he grins. “Are you all set to get started?”

Heart rate increasing with pleasant anticipation, you nod giddily.

“I’m obviously gonna be touching your arm a lot,” Marcus says, “so let me know if you need a break from that, the noise, the needle, anything.” Seeing your solemn nod, he continues. “I’m gonna do a little dot right here to let you see how it feels, okay?” He gently touches his index finger to your skin to indicate where.

“Okay.”

The gun turns on again, and Marcus presses it lightly against your skin for just a second before pulling back.

“...That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“I thought it would hurt more,” you confess.

Marcus laughs. “Well, the same feeling over and over again in a small area can start to be pretty uncomfortable. I’ll check in regularly to make sure you’re still doing fine. Good?”

You smile widely. “I’m really excited.”

His smile softens, his gaze becoming warmer and more tender. “I’m glad.”

His other hand gently cradles your arm as Marcus leans in, a look of intense concentration settling over his features as he begins the design. Engrossed in his work, you take the time to study his forearms. They’re a hodgepodge of designs, clearly done at different times and by different artists, but you can see themes throughout. He likes classic styles, you can tell, and in between some of the more traditional works you can see beautiful references to an assortment of famous paintings. A Dali melting clock here. A sunflower clearly inspired by Van Gogh there. On his opposite bicep, you can just barely make out the side of one design that looks like it might be of a Greek statue. Tilting your head, you realize it’s Nike alighting on the bow of a warship, and you inhale sharply. That’s one of your favorite sculptures.

“Still okay?” Marcus asks, glancing up at you with concern in his eyes.

“Sorry.” You shake your head quickly.

“Just checking,” he says softly. “Try to be just a little more still, okay?”

“Sorry,” you repeat, laughing sheepishly.

“Don’t be, you’re doing great.”

You try to fight the way your entire body seems to grow warm at Marcus’s praise, but you can’t stop the way the feeling stampedes through you. You’re being ridiculous, you chastise yourself. He’s doing his job, and you’re getting all moony-eyed.

In order to distract yourself, you continue playing ‘Spot the Famous Artwork’ on Marcus’s sleeves–although, as distractions go, it’s not your best work. You can’t help but focus in on the way his forearm cords with muscle as he holds the tattoo gun, controlling each movement so delicately and precisely, creating a beautiful, intricate design on your shoulder.

After finding a bit of yellow patchwork that's clearly a reference to Gustav Klimt's The Kiss near his right elbow, you break your silence.

“You like art, huh?”

It seems like a stupid thing to say to a fucking tattoo artist of all people, and you immediately kick yourself internally for saying something so obvious.

Marcus glances up, and, seeing how your eyes are focused on his own ink, smiles. “Always have,” he murmurs, returning his gaze to your shoulder. “Some of those are years-old.”

“Is that how you got into being a tattoo artist?” you ask.

“Sort of,” he answers, brow pinched in concentration as he continues working. “I uh, apprenticed for a shop in college to pay the bills before going to Quantico for training.”

“You’re really talented,” you tell him. “I was surprised to find out you haven’t been doing this your whole life.”

Marcus hums his appreciation as he carefully fills in a root.

“Can I ask what made you join the FBI instead of opening your own place after college?”

He huffs a little laugh through his nose. “Parents would have killed me, going to college and then doing nothing with it.”

“Running a small business isn’t exactly doing nothing,” you point out.

“Well, public opinion on tattoos wasn’t what it is now,” Marcus says. “They were scandalized by my apprenticeship, but it paid the bills, so they couldn’t complain too loudly.”

“Was it them who wanted you to join the FBI?”

“Mm, not so much,” he murmurs. “It was more like ‘whatever you want to do, so long as you can make a lucrative career out of it.’ Being an artist wasn’t one of those things, so in lieu of becoming one myself, I decided I wanted to protect them instead.”

You scrunch up your nose. “Protect them how?”

Marcus grins up at you and waggles his eyebrows playfully. “Art crimes,” he answers. “Being an art detective was kind of in the limelight in the early ‘nineties after the famous Gardner Museum theft, and I got swept up in the craze.”

“So you spent the last fifteen-ish years recovering stolen art,” you fill in for him.

“Stolen, forged, looted, illegally traded or smuggled…” Marcus offers, not breaking his concentration again. He wasn’t wrong–the repeated drag of the needle across what felt like the same square centimeter of your skin was starting to wear on you.

“Uh-huh,” you say, forcing the discomfort out of your tone.

Noticing the tightness in your voice immediately, Marcus’s movements stop. “Feeling okay?”

You shrug.

The gun switches off.

“You gotta be honest about how you’re feeling,” he reminds you. “I might be able to create designs based off of customers’ vague descriptions, but that doesn’t make me a mind-reader.”

“It’s a little uncomfortable, but I can endure it,” you insist.

“There’s no need to endure something that’s painful,” Marcus argues with an amused smile. “Even if it involves choosing to repeatedly jamming a needle into your skin.”

You can’t help but laugh, and your heart swells when he joins you.

“C’mere,” he says. “Let me show you something.”

You let him lead you to the other side of the shop, where he stops in front of a large storage cabinet that you'd assumed held various supplies. When he opens it, however, you find that isn’t the case at all.

No, the entire cabinet is filled to the brim with a collection of stuffed animals just as eclectic and varied as the furniture. There's also a couple of shoeboxes filled with every manner of fidget toy you could ever imagine.

"You can grab one, if you want. I know it might feel kind of goofy, but I promise they help with the pain."

"Okay," you breathe. Your gaze lingers first on the IKEA shark, then on a very soft-looking cactus with an adorable grumpy expression, but when your gaze lands on the largest and arguably oddest toy in the collection, your hands can't help but move toward it.

"The big guy, huh?" Marcus laughs, taking the giant squid off of the shelf and placing it in your arms. You have to laugh at how large and ungainly it is; its massive black eyes stare vacantly back at you, but the effect is dopey, rather than menacing.

"Where do you get all of these?" you ask in amazement.

"Most of them are gifts from past clients, including that one," Marcus says, indicating the squid. "But I think he originally came from the Smithsonian. I was told his name is 'Cthulhu, Lord of the Deep.'"

"Thank you," you say in a small, appreciative voice.

"'S'fine," Marcus shrugs. "Feel up to continuing?"

You nod, looking down at your partially-inked shoulder. "Guess you didn't get very far before I had to stop," you remark, somewhat self-deprecatingly.

"It's not a race," your artist says earnestly. "We've got the whole day, and we go at your pace. You're paying me, after all." Another wink in your direction.

"Yeah," you nod, confidence growing again. "Yeah, okay." You plop down in your seat, with Cthulhu in your lap, and Marcus takes his place beside you.

“Gonna turn this back on again,” he announces as the now-familiar buzz fills the room, “and I’m gonna touch your arm–” his fingers wrap warmly and gently around your skin, “–annnd here we go.”

The needle scratches insistently against your skin, but it isn’t so bad–not really, not with the hilarious giant squid on your lap and Marcus’s gentle, soothing voice in your ear. He talks while he works, sometimes asking you questions about your own life–to which he listens intently and always seems to have follow-up questions–and sometimes telling you stories of his own. You discuss art, obviously, but also music, books, movies, and baseball of all things.

You find yourself wondering if he has this type of easy rapport with everyone who comes in, but you assume he must. He might be the most disarming person you’ve ever met, and it’s hardly a stretch to believe he’s like this with everyone. Still, there’s an ugly, jealous part of you that wishes the connection between you was unique, special. That he’s only this warm with you.

Marcus was right–squeezing the stuffed toy on your lap is a perfect distraction from the discomfort of the needle, and before long, the sensation fades into the background. As the time drags on, though, the persistent drone of the tattoo gun causes an ache to creep in and settle between your eyes. You take in a deep breath through your nose, count to three, and exhale slowly through your mouth.

Marcus glances up, watching you for a split-second before cutting power to the gun and stretching his back with a satisfied sigh.

“Break time,” he announces. “Hand’s getting a bit sore.” He shoots you a knowing glance and another one of those crooked smiles. “And you should probably have a little something to drink, maybe a snack.”

“Yeah, thanks,” you say gratefully as he walks over to the little fridge.

“Apple juice?” he asks, holding up a little juice box that looks slightly comical in his large hands. When you nod enthusiastically, he hands it to you.

His fingers brush yours.

If it were anyone else, you’d recoil, but it’s him. It might just be the forced proximity, but…

You’re developing quite the crush on Marcus Pike.

Shoving the thought aside for the moment, you stab the straw into the little hole and take a long sip. Marcus settles down beside you with his own choice–a little can of vegetable juice–and holds it up in a silent ‘cheers.’

Feeling emboldened, you ask the question that’s been burning in your mind since you started.

“So what made you leave the whole ‘helping other artists’ thing behind and start a tattoo business instead?”

Marcus presses his lips together, and for a moment, you fear you’ve crossed a boundary. Just before you’re about to apologize profusely, though, he speaks.

“Have you ever just… woken up one morning, and realized that everything you were working toward, everything you thought you wanted in life… was a lie?”

“I… I don’t know,” you confess quietly, surprised at the emotion behind his words.

“Happened to me,” he laughs softly. “I had moved to DC for what I thought was my dream job, with who I thought was–” he shakes his head, as though dispelling an unpleasant thought. “I had spent my entire life checking boxes: College degree? Check. Well-paying job? Check. House? Check. Check, check check. I spent so much time trying to get ahead, like life was some kind of game to be won. If I said all the right things, did all the right things, if I did everything right… I’d have the life I wanted.”

“What was the life you wanted?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“It was bullshit, is what it was. Saw one too many rom-coms as a kid, I suppose. I thought I was after the picket fence, the dog, the wife and two-point-five kids, that sort of thing. And one morning I woke up, realized that… that relentless pursuit of something I couldn’t even hold–it was all bullshit.”

“So you just… quit?”

“I quit. I wanted to create things again. I wanted to feel inspired. After a bit of uh… frantic soul-searching before I ran out of money entirely, I sold my stupid, too-big condo that I hated and bought this shop instead.”

“Did it work?”

“Well, I’m not bankrupt yet,” Marcus says dryly.

“No, I mean… did you feel inspired again?”

“I did. I do. So very much so,” he says, his voice soft and gentle. His eyes flick up to meet yours, and that comfortable warmth that had settled in between you the first time you had met him… grows. Mutates. Until the warm, tingling feeling feels a lot more like electricity.

An unspoken moment seems to pass through you, but then Marcus clears his throat roughly, setting the empty can aside and standing again, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Wanna keep going?”

Breathlessly, you nod.

In no time at all, you’re settled back in the chair with one of Marcus’s warm, strong, large hands cradling your arm as the other gently wields the tattoo gun. As he starts to fill in and blend the colors, the pain starts to increase, and you worry one of the fuzzy tentacles back and forth in your hand as you grit your teeth.

“I know, I know,” Marcus soothes quietly. “The color’s the worst part, but you’re being so good for me.”

It helps you to watch him work, so you do. He’s blending in the colors now, and you watch with interest as it starts to take shape. It’s so mesmerizing that you hardly even notice the buzz of the gun or the light sting of the needle anymore.

“And you said you ‘weren’t good at tattoos,’” he teases gently, noticing your obvious interest.

“Did I say that?” you laugh, teasing back.

“I believe your words were, ‘I’m like the worst candidate for getting a tattoo that exists.’” he reminds you. “And look at you now, huh?”

You duck your head at his praise, unable to withstand the intensity and honesty in his gaze.

“Doing okay after all, I guess,” you say with a sheepish smile.

“You’re doing amazing,” Marcus corrects, smiling warmly. “The type of client any artist dreams of.”

You don’t know how to respond to the things this man says to you. Stunned and at a loss for words, you stare awkwardly at your hand where it still wraps around Cthulhu, Lord of the Deep.

“I’m sorry.” The words are soft, concerned. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just meant that your enthusiasm and your curiosity is the stuff that makes me want to be an artist in the first place.”

“Are you saying I inspire you?” you try to tease, but it falls flat.

Just audibly, over the hum of the tattoo gun, you hear his whispered response.

“Yes.”

As Marcus wipes away the last of the stray ink on the purple bit of tree, the tattoo gun suddenly switches off. The silence is almost shocking, and you blink rapidly in confusion.

“Break time?” you ask.

Marcus chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. “It’s all done.”

“It is?” you ask, although you can see the answer for yourself in the large mirrored wall to your right.

“How’s it feel?” he asks.

“My arm kind of aches,” you confess, “but oh my God, Marcus… it’s beautiful.”

It’s his turn to preen under your praise, the tips of his ears blushing pink as he grins back at you.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says softly. “Here, let me give you a little something for the pain.”

He squeezes a glob of light-green cooling gel and coats the angry skin with the barest of touches. “Still okay?” he asks, glancing up at you for confirmation.

After the harshness of the needle, the soft press of his fingers is more soothing than ever, and you have to resist the urge to sigh and melt into his touch.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“You’re going to want to keep this covered for a couple of hours, up to overnight,” Marcus says as he carefully applies a dressing to your shoulder–still softly, but more businesslike than before as he walks you through all of the instructions for care. “Once you take this off tomorrow, you’ll probably see some fluid leaking from it–that’s totally normal. It’s blood, plasma, and extra ink, and it should stop after a few days before it starts to scab over.

“You’ll want to keep it from drying out; I’d recommend scent-free, dye-free lotion if you don’t already have some,” he continues. “Wash it twice a day and put lotion on after. When it starts to scab, I can’t stress this enough: don’t pick the scabs.” He gives you a serious look. “Repeat that back to me.”

“Don’t pick the scabs.”

“If you do, you could cause it to scar, or even pull out the ink. One more time for me,” he prompts, and you get the feeling that this is always the sticking point in his speech.

“Don’t pick the scabs,” you repeat.

“It’ll take three to four months for the lower layers of skin to completely heal,” Marcus tells you. “During that time, keep it out of the sun, keep it hydrated, and you’re in the clear.”

“And don’t pick the scabs,” you say teasingly.

Marcus winks at you. “Exactly. Any other questions for me?”

“No, just… thank you. It’s amazing,” you tell him. “You did such an incredible job.”

“Hard not to, when I have such a beautiful canvas.”

Your eyes dart up, expecting to see a teasing glint in his eyes, but all you can see is heartfelt sincerity. You swallow thickly, and he tracks the movement, his eyes dropping down, then back up to meet your eyes. Is it… not just you? Does he feel it, too? Realization slams through you and threatens to overload all of your systems. Marcus’s lips are parted slightly, and the look in his eyes… it’s desire.

“Marcus…”

“Wait,” he says urgently. “Hang on. Come… come over here for a minute, let me–” he dashes awkwardly over to the till on the counter and gives you your total. Frowning in confusion–he wants to do this now? Interrupting that electric moment that had passed between you?–you dutifully swipe your card and numbly take the receipt.

“Now you’re no longer my client,” Marcus explains softly. “I–sorry–I was about to throw caution to the wind and kiss you, and I didn’t… I didn’t want to be unethical, I–”

“Yes,” you say simply, giving your response to his un-asked question.

It’s all he needs to stride forward, gently take your face in his warm palms, and, seeing no hesitation in your eyes even as he searches your face desperately—presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is as soft and as tender as the man himself, which hardly surprises you. Your eyes slip closed as his lips move against you with aching caution. He’s careful in all things, including this–taking your cues, giving you the lead, letting you feel everything he’s giving you.

All too quickly, he pulls back–but his eyes only sweep your face again, a growing smile on his lips as he sees nothing but want reflected back at him.

When he lowers his lips to yours again, he’s less gentle. One large hand leaves your face too hook around your waist, pulling you closer, closer–and when the proximity causes you to gasp softly, Marcus is ready. His tongue gently slips between your parted lips and you practically melt into him. When your knees buckle, his strong arms are what keep you standing upright, and still–

He can’t seem to stop kissing you.

You break before he does–pulling back to suck in a few shaky, heaving breaths, and he smiles through his own labored breathing.

“I wanted–I–” he begins, before hastily pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth as if he can’t help but do so.

“I’ve thought of you,” he tries again. “I thought of you like this for the last month,” the confession finally spills out. “I wanted to–wanted to kiss you so badly all day, but I couldn’t. Couldn’t let myself.” He kisses you again. “But now,” he promises, whispering the words against your mouth. “Now I’m gonna get my fill.”

To punctuate his statement with one of your own, you slant your head and deepen the kiss, wrapping one hand around Marcus’s neck and pulling him closer still. He makes a soft noise in his throat, and the grip on your waist tightens. You lose yourself completely to the feel of his tongue sliding slowly against yours, until he suddenly pulls back.

“I’m doing this all wrong,” he whispers–although he’s still smiling. “I wanted to ask you out to dinner, first.”

“So ask me,” you say with a giggle.

“Come have dinner with me,” Marcus murmurs, shaking his head in quiet amusement as he steals another gentle kiss. “Right now. Tonight.”

“You might have to open all the doors,” you tease. “My arm hurts.”

Another kiss.

“I’m wounded that you think I wouldn’t open every door regardless.”

“Are you always such a gentleman?” you remark with a wry smile.

Another.

“Well,” Marcus grins wolfishly. He places on last, lingering kiss on your lips and then makes a show of offering his arm. “Not always.”

#marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #pedro pascal

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gh0stsp1d3r · 11 months

Note

Hellouuu, I saw you Wirte for hobie brown (and I’m literally in love with him) and I wanted to request something. Like one day he stays over and says something like”I just wish there was more action in town” bc there wasn’t much going on that week and soon after that r gets into danger and it’s kinda hurt/comfort? PLEASE

Jinxed

Had to do a fic w my boy kendrick 🙏🏽🙏🏽

You listened as he talked, he was on his floor and you sat behind him and oiled his hair.

“Y’Know, sometimes I wish there was just more action. It’s gettin’ boring with missions and all that.” He said.

“So you don’t wanna spend more time with me?” You teased.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” He sighed. “Jus’ saying it’s borin’ is all.”

“I’m just messing with you. No, that makes sense.” You said, he talked some more and when you finished he got up.

“Thank you. I’ll be out for a few hours, but I’ll be back soon.” He said, putting on his jacket. “Don’t forget to-“

“Yeah, yeah, keep the door locked.” You rolled your eyes and waved him off.

“Yeah. I love you.” He kissed you.

“Love you too.” You said, he opened the door and left. You locked the door, and you sat down on the couch.

You hung out for about an hour, when you heard a loud crash in the room. You jumped up, and slowly went to the kitchen. You grabbed a knife when something- or someone- kicked you in the back. You yelped and fell over, dropping the knife.

You fell, and groaned in pain. Then some other people came in.

“What the fuck.. you all look like the goddamn swat team!” You shouted as they grabbed you, one of them grabbing their guns and hitting it on your head, and knocking you out.

They went downstairs, and quickly into their van, to which they put you in the back.

When you got to the warehouse, and you woke up, you immediately looked at the watch you always had.

It was there.

Your hands were tied, but you moved them, your fingers pushing random buttons, until it started to beep. Everyone looked at you, in confusion of what the noise was.

“Sorry. It’s my alarm on my watch, y’know…”

They couldn’t get the watch off so they waited until it shut up.

They waited until some huge guy walked in, and he was menacing for sure.

“Y/n L/n. We know about you and the spider.”

“Ohhh, you mean my boyfriend? Or soon to be husband. He doesn’t like labels.”

“Yes. Hobie Brown. We are trying to reach him, but can’t seem to do so on our own. So, lovely, here’s what we’re gonna do.”

“I think you just ruined the word lovely for me.”

“First, you’re going to shut up unless I ask you a question.”

All of his men decided to point their guns at you, so you did shut up.

“Next, you are going to tell me where he is, or every time you don’t , I will make sure that you suffer for it.”

“So where is he?”

“I would tell you but-“

A loud slap, right across your face. You just looked at him and smiled.

(Like the Loki scene LMFAOO)

“I’ll ask again, where is he?”

“What if I said I don’t know?”

He punched you this time, you groaned and looked down in your lap.

“Bullshit. Tell me now.” He grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“Nah, kiss my ass.”

He started to get angry, and put his large hands around your neck. You struggled to breathe, and then someone came kicking down the door. Hobie.

The men’s henchmen started to run towards him, Hobie webbed them to wall with no problem.

“Hands off, man.” He said, the man took his hands off your neck. You looked at him.

“So, you came?

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here now would you shut up?” He said, looking at you a bit panicked but tried to remain calm.

The man ran towards him, and the rest was a blur as you caught your breath. Hobie came up to you when it was over, untying you.

“I’m sorry. Oh god I fucking jinxed it-“

“It’s not your fault-“

“You got into this because of me-“

“Hobie. Listen, I love you.” That made him stop untying you for a moment.

“I love you, and if I got into trouble it dwouldnt matter you know why? Because I know you’ll come for me.”

He took off his mask, and kissed you.

“I love you.”

You smiled. “Alright, but can you please untie me already?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry.”

After you were untied, you both walked for a while before you got tired.

“C’mon.” He said, and grabbed you. (Kinda like mj and Peter in no way home)

He started to swing as you hid your face in his chest, laughing.

Once he landed, he made sure no one was following him this time and took you upstairs. And led you to the bathroom.

“Alright, sit down.” He said, you sat down on the closed toilet seat.

He checked out your face, and then your neck. Hand shaped red marks on your neck, and you cheek where he punched you.

He furrowed his brows as he focused and lifted up your face, examining your neck and face.

“I’m sorry.” He said again, genuine. He grabbed some ice from the fridge, putting it in a towel and putting it on your face.

You held his hand that was currently on your face as you looked at him.

“It’s not your fault. Okay? It’s nobodies fault.”

He nodded, and looked at your hands.

“We’re gonna be alright.” You said.

He smiled “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

—————————————-

(Can you tell I’ve never really written a villain?)

Tag list: @enviinotes @rayis-psychotic @korizzybee @animechick555 @stupid-ninja @rreasonablydumbb @xxqueen-of-horrorxx @spidypunkk @criodzasn

@techta @1eonk @chipstermation6 @whosace16 @ @l-pandamatic-l

@spider-phoenix @zebralover @my-melo-gf @wiz-te-ria @tzuyuzzs @luvsaluv @mxkn

@deputy-videogamer @666kpopfan @jared-oranges @likelilac @jjkclub

@kitty-kei @blaxk-widow @hoesindifferentshows @lavsluvsu @lampylamperson @artsykerfuffleplus @notbluees @sp0kyzz @arlipooh @freeingrebels @ken-zah

#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #spider man across the spider verse x reader #spider man across the spider verse #spider punk x reader #spider punk

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thelonelyempath · 1 year

Text

M!Crush x F!Reader: Subtle (NSFW)

18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

THEME: Smut

WARNING(s): Vibrator, Public Play, Public Orgasm, Rough Sex, PiV Sex, Unprotected Sex, Cum, Squirting, Post Orgasm Torture

This was a request, but I somehow lost the ask. So whoever's anon this was, here ya go!

It felt like roses. Too bad you couldn't react, though. Not outwardly, at least. On the inside, you were in heaven. You and C/N were hanging out with a few of C/N's friends, so he of course took this as an opportunity to play with those vibrating panties he bought you.

"You good, Y/N?" Josh asked, noticing how "away" you were. "Y/N?"

"Huh?" you gasped, frantically trying to make it look like everything was normal and nothing at all was out of the ordinary.

"Yeah, babe." C/N chimed in, smirking ever so slightly. "You good?"

"Oh...yeah. I'm fine. I'm just- mmm- just tired." you lied.

You shot your boyfriend a piercing glare, to which his smirk grew more sinful.

"See, babe." he said, very subtly pressing a button on the remote in his pocket to increase the intensity. "This is what happens when you stay up until 3AM watching TikToks."

You were trying your damndest. You almost couldn't handle it. God, what would Josh and Eric think if you had an orgasm right here in front of them? They'd think you were insane and would never want to associate with you again. You looked at C/N, silently begging him with your eyes to turn down the intensity. He was just being mean at this point.

A few more hours passed. These hours were filled with talking, laughing, video games, and your boyfriend randomly stopping and starting the vibrator. How the hell could his friends not hear it buzzing around down there? Perhaps their gamer rage was too loud for them to notice. Either way, you couldn't take it anymore. You needed to either get off now, or get home so C/N could fuck your brains out. Feigning illness was cliche, but you needed an out.

"Babe, I don't feel good." you whined, leaning against the wall, trying so hard to not climax.

C/N looked at you with a raised eyebrow. He knew exactly what you were trying to do and how close you were.

"Aw, do you need me to take you home, love?" he played along with your fake affliction, turning off the vibrator.

"I think so."

He walked over to you and pressed the back of his hand to your forehead to "check your temperature".

"You're a little warm." he said. "We're gonna head out, guys. Y/N's not feeling well."

They said their goodbyes and whatnot before C/N took you by the hand and walked you out to the car. To make it look more believable, you pretended to be fatigued by grabbing onto his arm and leaning on him. Immediately after getting in the car, the facade was dropped.

"Couldn't handle it, huh?" he teased you, turning the car on.

"I didn't want to cum in front of your friends!" you quipped back.

"They were so deep in Warzone, babe. They wouldn't have noticed if you squirted right on Eric's bed."

"Ew."

"Oh don't act like you didn't like it, love. You were so close to cumming so many times that I could practically feel your legs shaking."

Your face went beet red. C/N, with his eyes focused on the road, noticed this and laughed.

"You're so cute when I get you all worked up." he grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it.

He turned the vibrator back on, keeping it on for the duration of the drive home. Once again, roses. It was just the two of you in the car, so you didn't have to hide it anymore.

"Ohhh..." you breathed in pleasure. "goddddd..."

Driving over all those speed bumps was only increasing the pleasure. With his arm outstretched and his hand on the wheel, you couldn't help but notice his muscles. Those sexy fucking muscles. You wished they were holding you against the wall or down on the bed right now.

"Yeah you think it feels good now, babe." C/N said pompously. "I can't wait to hear you scream my name when we get home."

God, even hearing him talk was getting you closer to the edge. His voice was so smooth, so saucy. If butter could speak, it would have his voice.

"Fuck..." you panted.

Another speed bump. This one made your legs quiver.

"You want to cum so bad, baby." C/N observed in a low-toned voice. "I can see it."

"Then fucking let me cum!" you snapped.

"Whoa!" he snapped back at you, pulling into the driveway. "You better watch the attitude or I'm gonna edge you into next week, you little brat."

You rolled your eyes, but you secretly loved when he was dominant like this. You were so goddamn close. You were barely hanging on by a thread. And he was enjoying every second of the torture he was inflicting on you.

"You want to cum? Fine." he said. "But as soon as we get inside, princess, you better cancel everything you've got going on tomorrow because you won't be able to walk."

Finally, you broke. His words produced an intense, powerful orgasm. You whimpered as your legs shook and your eyes rolled back into your head. After a little bit of aftershock, C/N turned off the vibrator, allowing you to breathe for a second.

"You have no idea what you just did, pretty girl." he smirked.

After you both got inside and he led you by the hand to the bedroom, you felt his energy shift. Dom mode was activated. His lips violently attacked yours and he couldn't keep his hands off of your body. You moaned into his mouth as your hands ran through his hair.

"Oh, baby." he breathed. "I'm about to fuck you so good you can't see straight. Strip."

You did as you were told and undressed. He was eager. Eager enough to unhook your bra with his teeth. Once you were completely naked, he pushed you down onto the bed and got on top of you, attacking your neck with his mouth. He left dark hickeys all over your neck as his hands played with your breasts. He was not gentle at all, slapping them around and squeezing them hard enough to leave marks around your nipples. You loved it, especially when he took them in his mouth. His teeth scraping against your nipples felt incredible. It hurt, but in the best way. You couldn't help but moan here and there as his mouth assaulted you.

"I can't believe you're all mine." he said, his hot breath on your skin giving you goosebumps. "My own sexy little fucktoy."

He slid his boxers off and you watched his erection spring free. He was practically throbbing, he was so hard.

"Ride me, princess." he commanded, positioning himself to where you could do so. "Reverse cowgirl."

He wasn't on his back. He was sitting up, leaning his back against the headboard. You got yourself to where you could lower yourself down onto his cock with your back turned to him. Upon feeling him enter you, you moaned again for him. His dick was magical. When you first started having sex with him, you expected to have to fake one or two orgasms every now and then, but your boyfriend had never failed to make you cum.

"That's it, babygirl. Let me stare at your ass while I fuck you."

He had his hands on your hips, rapidly maneuvering them back and forth. As he did so, you started to bounce. It felt amazing. He gave your ass a few sharp smacks, which only added to the pleasure.

"Ohhhh fuuuuck!" you moaned. "C/N!"

"That's right, kitten." he said between his own moans. "You belong to C/N and C/N only. No one else can make your pussy feel this good."

He was right. He wasn't your first, but holy hell, nobody else was able to make you feel the way he made you feel. The day he stopped being able to make you cum would be the day the world stopped turning. With each and every thrust of his cock inside you, you felt all of the negative energy leave you.

"Lean back for me, baby."

You leaned back against his chest, allowing him to thrust upward into you. His cock was brushing your g-spot, which made your eyes roll back. It was ecstasy.

"Your pussy's so fucking wet." he said through clenched teeth. "Feels so good on my cock."

He used his hand to rub circles on your clit, which made you whimper. Everything just felt so fucking good. The combination of his dick pounding into you, your g-spot being touched, and him fingering your clit was beyond belief.

"Yeah," he grunted. "feels good, doesn't it, baby?"

"Mmmm yes!" you could hardly contain yourself.

You never wanted it to end. You were in heaven right now. Your toes curled as you knew you were starting to get close to your high. If he had been fucking you any harder, you would have already come all over his cock.

"Oh god fuck!" you wailed as your body shook.

"Cumming already, princess?" your boyfriend teased, his husky groans and grunts getting deeper and more primal. "Cum for me. Cum for me, baby. Cum all over me."

And just like that, you were screaming. You swear to god you went deaf for a second as you came undone, your juices gushing and spraying everywhere. Your body was so tense. But C/N wasn't done yet. He wasn't gonna stop until he was finished. He continued to pound into you, giving you some painful aftershock. It hurt, but it felt amazing. You couldn't stop twitching, which was making it so much better for him. After a few more big thrusts, his cock started to twitch inside you, signaling to you that he was about there.

"Fuck, baby." he gasped. "Oh fuck...I'm gonna cum...I'm gonna fucking cum, baby!"

Then he let go with a series of deep grunts. You felt his hot liquid shoot into you as he pulsated inside you. After you both took a second to catch your breath and come down, you rolled to his side as he pulled out, his milky cum leaking out of your hole.

"Holy fuck, babe!" he smiled, his face flushed and his eyes glazed over. "I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did."

"It was amazing, baby." you responded, giving him a sweet kiss on the lips.

"I've never loved anyone as much as I love you, Y/N. You drive me fucking insane with how incredible you are."

You blushed as he kissed your cheek, pulling you into him to cuddle. With your head on his chest and his arms wrapped around you, you wanted to stay like this forever. Everything was perfect.

#crush x reader #crush imagine #m!crush x f!reader #boyfriend x reader #boyfriend imagine

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