#I used 3 colours for my shading this time around

[goldustwomun]

bags (s.h.)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: you'd loved steve since you were fifteen, followed him wherever he went. so when you were finally over him, stumbling home with another man clinging to your side, why was he waiting by your doorstep?

warnings: (unedited) angst angst angst, best friend robin and nancy but also lovers <3 robin and nancy <3, swearing, drinking, clubbing/partying, self-deprecating thoughts and a stubborn reader, steve is kind of an asshole despair and dread lol, this went a route i hadn't expected but i'm feeling achey and sad tonight so :) enjoy :) and don't hate me!

wc: 2.2k+

note: i hope this isn't entirely ass lol i just want steve harrington to break my heart but like i cant put my ideas into words and its SO FRUSTRATING but whatever :’)

Can you see me? I'm waiting for the right time I can't read you, but if you want, the pleasure's all mine Can you see me using everything to hold back? I guess this could be worse Walkin' out the door with your bags

You should’ve known it’d end up this way. His back, coloured shades of blue and purple as dusk kissed at his skin, retreating into the distance and down the very road you’d just stumbled up only moments earlier. Maybe if you had listened a little closer, noticed a little more, the way he grabbed at your waist, squeezed your palms, held you close, you could’ve avoided it all. The shock and heartbreak and unbearable yearning only to turn up empty and desolate all over again.

Because you loved Steve Harrington, in more ways than he would ever know, but it had taken days, months, years, even, to get over that initial infatuation and belly flutter you’d been plagued with as teenagers. He was King Steve and you but a peasant, a shadow, one of many, that flocked to his side when he waved or smiled or tripped you up.

You loved Steve Harrington, but you hated him for waiting so long to work up the courage to just say it. I love you; I’ve always loved you, you wanted to say, but the words refused to pass the seal of your lips and instead you were left gaping at an empty spot on the ground, a Steve-shaped hole in your heart.

It’d been days since you’d seen him last, mourning his absence but refusing to sit around like you might’ve done if you were still seventeen. But no, you weren’t seventeen, you were a twenty-something independent that went out and did things and met people and kissed them if you wanted, maybe even take them home to your one-bedroom that would be otherwise empty without Steve plastered to your sofa, a hand stuffed into the popcorn you kept around because he once said he didn’t entirely hate it.

And that’s what you had done, convinced Nancy and Robin to leave the haze of their never-ending honeymoon phase to take you dancing. The drinks hadn’t stopped coming. Every time you gulped down a shot, another would be shoved into your hand before you’d had time to comprehend the reality of what you were going to do. To sleep with a stranger in the same space you’d watched Rocky with Steve only days earlier. You’d called and asked and begged him to come over, to join you, Nancy and Robin, but he’d bit at you in that way he sometimes did. The harsh edges of his teenage-self making itself known in ways you’d have liked to forget.

“Stop it, babes. I know what you’re doing,” Robin scolded, frowning at the dip between your brows and the lost look in your eyes. You forced a smile then, and she scoffed at the minimal effort you put into hiding your feelings, always having excelled at letting them take over your features even when you didn’t mean them to. Of course, every knew, everyone could see it in the way you trailed after him, like a lost puppy begging for an ounce of attention. Steve was cruel with the crumbs he handed you, but he didn’t know any better.

Everyone knew and everyone could see but Steve had always stood out, the most handsome, the most fit, the most clueless. And maybe that’s why you were perfect for each other because you hadn’t known either, had you.

“Come on, up you get!” Robin urged, pulling you from your chair with Nancy already clinging to her side, shuffling the three of you with what little sobriety she had left in her to the dance floor, pulsing lights and thrumming bodies none-the-wiser to the way you heart was cracking open.

So, you jumped and danced and bounced to the beat in ways you didn’t know you were capable of. Free and without regret and it wasn’t until someone was staring at you from across the room, watching your every moment with a fascination you’d never been subject to, that you stopped, pressing past Nancy and Robin with a tip of your head that assured them you’d be back.

He, whoever he was, surged into action, coming behind you at the bar where you were busy asking for a glass of water. You turned and smiled, stomach dipping, because he was attractive and strong, and he had these kind eyes and soft lips that looked like they’d be otherworldly against your skin. He introduced himself but the music obscured his words, so you nodded and pretended and wondered why you were dreading this conversation when it had only just begun.

He pulled you into a somewhat quieter corner after you’d gestured it was alright, and really, he seemed as surprised as you were when you all but pounced, mouth meeting his, open and desperate. He hadn’t complained, had probably seen it coming in the quiet desperation of your eyes. Of course, he didn’t know it was because of the way you wished it was someone else kissing you into the wall and not some all-consuming lust you were fueled by.

The next thing you knew you were huddled into the backseat of a cab, then stumbling across the gravel to your front door.

And that’s when you saw him. Sat on the bottom step of your apartment’s front door, gaze focused on the way whatever-his-name-was smirked into your neck, having probably thought you had stopped for a smooch and not because the man you had loved, unrequited, for close to a decade was staring at you like you’d stabbed him right in the chest, and twisted.

“Steve?” you whispered, loud enough to prompt Harrington off the step and marching across the short distance to you. “What are you—” but you never had a chance to ask him before he was swinging a left hook right into the guy’s jaw.

“Steve!” and you were shouting now, pushed to side as the stranger retaliated out of instinct, socking him in the nose. Steve looked like he was grinning, blood dripping into his mouth, like he was enjoying the feel of getting the shit beat out of him. “Stop it! Steve! I said—” you yanked him back, shoving him behind you as you rushed forward to-- fuck. You still don’t know his name.

“I’m sorry— Jesus Christ—” you swore when you noticed how his eye was already bruising as he shook you off. “I don’t know why he did that. I—I’m—"

His words were bitter when he responded, shooting daggers at the looming figure you were keenly aware was still behind you before meeting your pleading eyes. “It’s fine. It’s fine,” he assured you, squeezing your hip as he moved past you to leave. “You should talk to your boyfriend, you know, before you bring anyone else over.”

“I’m not—He’s not—” but he was gone, and you were still reeling from what had just happened, what Steve had just done. You turned, anger coursing through you so violently your hands were shaking. “Fucking hell—Steve! What the fuck are you doing here? And what the fuck was that?!”

“Were you going to fuck him?” he asked plainly, bluntly, shirt pulled to his face as he tried to stop the bleeding. There was still that wild look in his eyes, a flush to his skin, like he too was dazed and confused.

“What—I--- how is that any of your fucking business?” you answered back, shoving a finger against his chest. He was immovable though, only grabbed at your hand and held it until your palm was flat against the front of him. You could feel, now, the reckless thrum of his heartbeat, and you asked yourself how you’d gotten here in the first place, pushed up against a bloodied and bruised Steve Harrington.

“Just tell me. If I hadn’t been sat here, would you have fucked him?”

And you didn’t completely understand it, didn’t know what answer he was looking for—the one that was acquiesce him enough to explain himself or at the very least go inside and forget about all this ever happening—so instead you answered honestly. “Yes,” but your voice cracked at the end, so you snatched your hand back, cradling it to yourself like an injured bird you hoped to keep cocooned in your warm. You cleared your throat and tried again. “Yeah, I would have slept with him. And if it hadn’t been him, I would have found someone else.”

He nodded, looking as if he were pained but you were certain, now, it wasn’t because of the punch he’d taken to the face. “And if I had answered your call, met you there, got drunk and kissed you, would you have fucked me, too?”

You reeled at his words, feeling entirely as though you were the one in the midst of a fight. “Where is this coming from, Steve? Why are you saying these things to me?” you begged, pleaded, tired of whatever back-and-forth the two of you had gotten into the habit of.

“Look—” and he was determined now, steely gaze pinning you to the ground. His bruised knuckles brushed through his hair, scattering the strands across his forehead so that your fingers tingled with the urge to brush them out of his eyes like you’d always done. “—I should’ve said this ages ago. I just—I never could because it was never the right time, and I didn’t really see you in that way, not when I knew you did—” and really you wanted to stop him there, let the Earth swallow you whole and spit your bones out to be buried far from here. “I knew you had this—this thing for me but I ignored it but then we became friends and we—I mean, we watch movies, and we cuddle on the couch and sometimes I think I’d like to do that with you all the time and—

“Steve, please,” you whispered through the tears flooding past your irises, looking anywhere but at him, cheeks flushed with humiliation. He’d always had this tight grip around your heart and maybe he didn’t know that with every word he spoke that grip tightened, and tightened, and you were sure your heart was going to burst if he didn’t shut up right then.

“Just listen—I want to do those things with you always, sweetheart, I really do. I could’ve—I mean, I should’ve communicated my feelings earlier, I know I should have, but I didn’t want to lie to you. Not when you mean so much to me and I couldn’t give you what you wanted.” He looked at you then, expectantly, reaching forward to pull you into his embrace but you stumbled back, wanting out of the hold he had on you in more ways than one.

“Am I meant to thank you for looking at me differently now?” you bit out, exhaustion coating your syllables like rust on a nail.

His face fell as he stuttered over his own words. “I mean—no, sweetheart, no, of course not, I just thought—”

“You thought because I’m pathetic—because I’ve always been fucking pathetic to you—stumbling after you since high school that I’d just be, what, waiting for you? That I’d welcome your change of heart with open arms and gratitude?” you scoffed, gaze narrowed as you watched that wall of his build itself back up. Your ego was bruised and you were too stubborn to admit it, because you thought he had been clueless, and that thought had kept you safe all these years as you curled into his side every weekend.

“I don’t think that. I’ve never thought that” he cautioned, temper rising. If Steve Harrington was anything it was beautiful, and if he wasn’t beautiful, he was angry, stubborn, a pot ready to boil over.  

“Come on, Steve. You said it yourself: I’ve had a thing for you since freshmen year. I followed you after we graduated, and I’ve followed you again, here, now. It took me years—fucking years—to get over it, to accept that I’d never be more than a friend, if that, and now, after you’ve been dodging me for days, you turn around and confess some sort of miracle feelings for me?” You were panting, out of breath from the way the words spilled out of you, thoughts you shouldn’t have kept to yourself all this time.

“Well what should I have done!” he roared, and a few curious lights blinked on from the building behind him. “Should I have not befriended you when you turned up to the same college? Should I have, instead, fucked you ten years ago when it would have meant nothing to me?” And you flinched at his words.

“You should have let me be, Steve,” you sighed, defeated. Because he was right, but you hated him for prodding at wounds you were still trying to heal.  “You should have kept it to yourself and let me be.” But really what you wanted to say was you’ve been lying to Robin and Nancy because you weren’t over him. You loved him; you’d always love him, but you were afraid, if you told him the truth, that he’d slowly fade from your life until he wasn’t a part of it anymore.

He nodded, face slipping into that mask of his you’d dreaded seeing. “Right. Got it.”

He pushed past you, and you wanted to thank him for the slight brush of his skin against yours, but you kept quiet, like you always had.

as always, please comment and reblog if you enjoyed <3

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve x you #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #bags

[melancholyhigh]

ARTWORK

ft. leon x artist!reader

synopsis. you're an artist, and leon's your muse.

content. 1.5k words. fluff, smut. nude painting, leon's pov, needy leon, praise kink, masturbation, handjob.

note. this was j supposed to be fluff but i got ahead of myself.

masterlist. i love your guy's feedback :3

“Paint me like one of your French girls.”

You laugh at Leon’s statement. He’s perched on the small, green couch in your home art studio, wearing nothing but his pink, fluffy robe as you prepare your oil paints. 

“You’re my first French girl, Leon.”

–-

You had suggested painting him nude while you were both in bed, lazing around. You’re in each other’s hold, Leon’s arms around your waist and face on your chest when he asks about any new projects you had in mind. 

He loves hearing about what art piece you were doing or planned to do. It was how you expressed yourself, whether there was a deeper meaning or none at all. He found it beautiful. Every work you do it had a bit of your personality in it. He could tell your work from thousands by the intricate details they carry. 

When you told Leon you wanted to paint him, he wasn’t too surprised. You mentioned he was your favourite thing to draw or think of when you had art block. The admission had left him sputtering, his face red as he tried to get his words out.

On the third date, you showed him your sketchbook, pages littered with drawings and portraits of him. Some were quick sketches, while other’s looked like you took time to get every detail of him. 

You’re always on my mind, Leon. You had confessed. Was it a little creepy? At that moment, flipping through the drawings of him, the attention to detail they held, he’d say it was romantic.

People have always said he was pretty as a picture, yet you’re the only one that makes his heart beat faster and his tummy fill with butterflies when you say he’s the type of gorgeous you’d find in a painting. 

“A nude painting,” you specify. It was as if you told Leon he was the object of your affection for the first time again. His head buries into your chest, trying to hide his flushed face. You smile at his sudden bashfulness. 

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, baby.” You run your fingers through his soft hair. “I want to try something new, but it’s okay. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“‘S fine, angel. But can’t you use a picture?”

“Where’s the fun in that, pretty boy.”

He groans, muffled by your shirt, and you giggle. 

He loves to please you — in more ways than one — and nothing compares to the smile that graces your face, so he agrees. It’s not like Leon’s uncomfortable with you looking at him bare and vulnerable. There were other problems he was worried would interrupt your craftwork. 

–-

Leon leans back into the couch, doing just as you instructed. His bare back hits the soft cushioning, and it’s surprisingly comfortable. 

His robe is off, on the floor next to your easel. He rests his chin on his hand, supported on the arm of the couch.

He’s nervous. You said it’s nothing you haven’t seen before, but this almost feels more intimate than being intertwined with you in bed.

Maybe it’s the gaze you hold when you’re analysing him, grasping the compositions and layering basic shapes onto the canvas. 

He can’t help but think of when you told him he’s your favourite canvas to mark up. Sucking the reddish marks into his skin which turn the prettiest shade of purple, as you like to put it. Or when you said the colour on his cheek was your favourite shade of pink.

You always did like to rile him up, muttering the filthiest things to him in the most mundane setting, just like right now. 

“Spread your legs wider, Leon.” You mumble in a casual tone as if you don’t know the implications of your own words. You’re so engrossed with getting your work right you probably don’t.

It’s so fucking sexy seeing you in your element. Your brows pinched together, and your face serious with concentration. 

He obediently listens to you, parting his legs wide, and the problem he wishes wouldn’t happen is currently hardening between his thighs. You don’t notice, mixing paints to ensure it's the correct shade. 

You’re probably 30 minutes into painting, and he’s already hard. You said you’d take a while to finish, and he could tap out whenever he wants to, but he doesn’t want to disappoint. 

Finally, you’re looking up from the canvas and towards Leon. Your brows quirked up in surprise when trying to examine his features, studying the curve of his nose and the sharpness of his jawline to imitate on the canvas. His face is pink, the shade you know and adore so much. 

Your eyes trail down his body, his dick fully erect, slapping against his stomach. Your gaze is on his face again with a smirk on your lips.

He knows, you know, he’s rock-hard simply from the glances you take at him and the words you mutter. His lashes flutter, and he moves his hand to cover his face while the other is shamefully obscuring his cock.

“Be a good boy, and don’t move, Leon. I want to make sure everything looks good.” You say, and he thinks you aren’t going to acknowledge his 7-inch problem.  

“Oh, and make sure your pretty dick is hard for me, okay, baby?” You go back to your painting, trying to hide your smug expression.  

His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows his nerves, but he relents, going into position, not before giving his cock a firm squeeze. 

“Don’t cum too, okay? I want to be the one making you cry.”

A few hours pass, and Leon is on the verge of tears. He listened to what you said, only providing himself with enough stimulation to keep his cock hard but not enough to tip him over the edge into bliss. 

Precum leaks from the head down to the shaft. His dick is red and spent. He wants nothing more than for you to stop painting and make him cum.

“I’m almost done. You’ve been such a good boy for me, baby.” 

Your words are almost enough to make him spill his cum over the expensive fabric of your eccentric couch. 

You’re adding the finishing touches to the painting with each stroke, making sure you get the placement of each mole or freckle correct and each vein of his cock following to the tip right. 

You swear he belongs in a museum. No art can replicate how beautiful he truly is.

“I’m done.” You sigh, moving to get up to rid your skin of paint. 

After rinsing yourself off the paint, you make your way to Leon. You get comfortable in a seat on the couch right next to him. He’s breathing heavily in anticipation, looking up at you through his long lashes. Pretty, pink lips parted as pretty gasps left him. 

You cup his face, pressing your lips to his. The kiss is soft as you move your lips slowly in unison. He breathes out your name when you pull away. One of your hands moves to his throat, softly squeezing. Leon whimpers, his hands moving to hold your waist.

“Good job, baby. You didn’t cum once. I know it hurts, but I'm going to make you feel better,” you whisper, softly kissing his flushed forehead. 

Your hand moves to his pulsing cock, and gives it a soft squeeze, relishing the whine Leon lets out. Your touch sends goosebumps along his skin, and he plants his head into the crook of your neck. 

His hips eagerly buck into your hold. He’s practically sobbing into your neck, his soft hair tickling the underside of your jaw. You rest your chin on top of his head, smelling the fragrance of his shampoo. 

You thumb the slit on the tip of his cock, using his precum as a lubricant to start moving your hand back and forth on his shaft. 

You start at a slow pace. You don’t want Leon cumming quickly, wanting to enjoy every cry and whimper. 

The soft shlick noise of you jerking Leon’s cock fills the room with his desperate cries. He pulls back away from the crook of your neck, tears flowing down his blushing face.

“Please, please, please, g– go faster, angel. I’ve been such a good boy for you. Let me cum, please.”  He pleads, looking at you with those puppy dog eyes. His hips rutted frantically into your palm. How could you deny your boy?

“Okay, pretty baby. Cum for me.” You say softly, picking up the pace of jerking him off.

He whimpers loudly, thighs quivering lightly as his orgasm crashes and hot spurts of his cum spill onto your hand. He’s panting, dazed with lust and staring at you with what seems like hearts in his eyes. 

“T- thank you, thank you, s’much.” Leon gasps like a broken record, and you think he’s fucked himself dumb with your hand.

You peck his lips, effectively shutting him up.

“Let’s get you cleaned up so I can show you my favourite artwork yet.”

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #re4 remake #resident evil 4 #leon kennedy x you #leon s. kennedy #leon kennedy smut #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil #leon kennedy resident evil #resident evil smut #reader insert #smut #re4 smut #re4 #✩‧₊˚ fics

[mistiell]

Let me put my Lips to Something

Pairing: Spencer x Fem! Reader

Summary: After learning about his aversion to touch, you tone down the physical affection. Spencer finds himself missing your touch, and after weeks of yearning, he’s had enough. He decides it’s time to fix this.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Fluff, it gets pretty steamy towards the end but nothing graphic so I don't think this needs age restricting lmao

A/N: Part 2 to “I’m Starvin’, Darlin’”. The feedback on the last part motivated me to finish this in like, a single sitting lmao. Hope y’all enjoy! :)

P.S. My requests are open so if you wanna send something in for Spence, I'll do my best to get to it quickly!

Part 1 - Current - Part 3

Spencer hadn’t realised how much he wanted — how much he needed — your touch until you stopped. Where there was once that warm, tingly anticipation whenever he made you laugh, there‘s now a strange absence left in its wake. Where there used to have been a bump or a squeeze, there are awkward smiles and nervous glances. Like a line of dialogue without end quotations, left to hang in the balance while the author considers what should be said next.

It’s killing him.

He’s come to realise that this want extends beyond the bounds of anything that could ever be considered platonic. He wants more than your touch. He wants you.

He craves you, finds himself remembering the way your arms felt around him the last time you hugged him. Finds himself fantasising about how it would feel to be the one to take you in his arms. How it would feel to be the one to hold you; to cradle your face between his palms and lose himself in your kiss; to let go of his inhibitions and drown himself in the depths of your affections.

He wants your time and energy. He wants your attention and praise. He wants to be the one to make you smile and laugh so hard your stomach hurts. He wants to be yours, and he wants everyone to know it.

It’s only been three weeks since that night at the bar, but even so, he feels like if he doesn’t figure out how to tell you how he feels, he might very well lose his mind. You’re right across from him all day, five days a week. It’s torture. Perhaps he’s being dramatic, but at this point, he’s well beyond caring.

The problem is, how on earth is he supposed to go about confessing to you? He’s never been suave or charismatic. He’s awkward and dorky and breaks a sweat every time anyone even remotely attractive looks his way. He’s never felt this intensely about anyone before, never desired anyone this way before. Sometimes, late at night when he’s finally tucked himself into bed, he attempts to calculate the probability of you ever wanting him in the way he wants you.

In his pessimistic mind, that number is despairingly low.

“Spence?” He startles at the sound of your voice, snapping his head up to look at you.

You’ve worn a different lipstick today. It’s a little darker than your usual colour, a rather glossy, rosier shade of mauve. He thinks he’s seen it somewhere before, and the name pops up from somewhere in his memory.

“Rum raisin.” He mumbles, staring intently at your lips and wondering briefly if it would transfer if he kissed you.

“What?” You cock your head at him with an amused sort of confusion.

He blinks once before clearly his throat, “Oh, um, your lipstick.”

You raise your hand so your fingertips hover over your bottom lip as you smile at him, “How’d you know?”

“I saw it in a drugstore once.”

You chuckle and shake your head, “Your memory never ceases to amaze me, Spence.”

His heart swells as he smiles sheepishly, “Thanks.”

You hum before gesturing to two big boxes of files that are sitting on your desk, “Could you help me run these down to records?”

“Oh, yeah.” He’s quick to cross the short distance to your desk and purposely picks the heavier of the two boxes.

The trip down to records is a rather tedious one as of today. The elevator is out of order so you have to take the stairs from the sixth floor to the third.

“Do you like rain?” You ask, and it takes him a moment to realise you’re looking out water speckled windows at the stormy street below.

“Yeah.” He leaves out the part that the possibility of power outages and the darkness that accompanies them unnerves him greatly.

You turn your head to smile at him as you reach the records room, “Me too.”

He opens the door for you before you have the chance and lets you go in first, letting the door shut behind him. He follows you into the room, weaving between shelves and stepping over boxes that have yet to find their places. He watches you skim over the yellowed labels, your lips twitching as you read them off in your head.

You find the spot you’re looking for and make a sound of satisfaction before bending at the waist to slide the box into place, your skirt sliding a little further up to press against the plush flesh of the backs of your thighs. His gaze wanders up the length of your body and stops at your chest. From this angle, he’s able to see the curve of your breast and he swallows hard. Squeezing his eyes shut, he shakes his head, feeling ashamed for ogling you like that.

Behind the darkness of his eyelids, he sees the lights flicker and when he opens them, he finds he’s not able to see much more than when he had them closed.

Shit.

“Damnit, the power’s out.” You curse, taking the box from him and slotting it in next to the other.

He takes a deep breath. The dark isn’t as frightening with you there in front of him, but that familiar anxiety pricks his chest and settles heavy in his gut.

“Spence?”

He wonders when the emergency lights will come on. Maybe they’re already on in the hall. He feels along the wall and shuffles back over to the door. When he tries the knob, he finds it locked. Now he’s panicking a little.

Well, maybe a lot.

There’s a clap of thunder outside that’s so powerful that he feels it in his chest and he jumps, breath catching in his chest as he screws his eyes shut as if it’ll make a difference.

“Spence?” You call again softly, “Are you okay?

“Y-Yeah.” He stutters.

“You don’t like storms?”

He shakes his head before realising you can’t see him, “No, not really.”

“Me neither.” You whisper, and he hears the shuffling of your clothes as you shift your weight between your feet and huff a breathy puff of nervous laughter, “I don’t like the dark either.”

“Me neither.” He echoes, wetting his lips briefly as he considers how to comfort you despite how anxious he is himself.

Carefully, tentatively, he reaches for you in the dark and takes your hand, just barely brushing his thumb over your knuckles. Your skin is soft and warm, and he attempts to find your face in the dark as he murmurs ever so softly, “Is this okay?”

“Yeah.” You reply just as softly, squeezing his hand.

It’s a little unsettling not being able to see you. He can hear you breathing, and having your hand in his feels so nice, but he wants you closer.

“Can I…” He trails off, but tugs at your hand so you’ll step a little closer. He swallows his nerves, “Can I distract you?”

It’s a lame excuse, but it’s all he can come up with on the spot.

“Distract me how?” He can hear the smile in your voice and it encourages his steadily growing confidence.

He pulls you closer, and you step further into his space. He places a hand on your waist, and you don’t recoil. In fact, you come a little closer and set a hand on his chest. You slide it along the length of his shoulder and up the back of his neck to thread your fingers in the hairs at the base of his skull and he shudders, lips parting to sigh softly. Your thumb settles just behind his ear and strokes the skin there tenderly and he can’t stop himself from leaning down to gently bump your nose with his, giving you plenty of time to pull away, to tell him you don’t want this.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask so innocently, breath fanning over his lips in a steady rhythm as his eyelids flutter shut.

“Please.” He breathes, leaning in to meet you halfway.

Your lips meet his timidly and his heart stutters in his chest. There’s a second where you pull back to let him breathe, let him get used to the feeling. His eyes open a sliver, just enough to make out the edges of you in the dark as his brain catches up with his body. And then the shock passes.

And he devours you.

The hand that was on your waist comes up to cradle your cheek as he brushes his tongue against your bottom lip in a silent request. You grant it, opening up to him to let him roll his tongue against yours. You stand on your tiptoes and lean further into him, returning the kiss with a fervour he wasn’t expecting but welcomes happily. He can taste your lipstick and is pleasantly surprised to find it tastes a little like vanilla.

There’s a push and pull of tongues and teeth and soft little sighs as he dares to slip his hands down and pull you flush against him by your hips, revelling in the breathy moan that slips from your throat and meets his mouth. He pulls away only to kiss sloppily at the corner of your mouth and down your jaw. He nips at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, smiling against your skin when you gasp and tug at his hair. Mouthing at your skin, he searches until you whine and shudder after he drags his teeth over a particular spot and focuses his attention there.

He sucks a nice bruise into the spot, some primal part of him driving him to mark you up and claim you as his while he has you here. He bites a little too hard and you hiss, making him pull back and search for your face in the dark.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“Mm-mm.” You hum before immediately capturing his lips again, slipping your tongue into his mouth and swallowing the moan that escapes him.

He guides you by your hips until he has you pressed against the door, sliding a hand down the length of your thigh before slipping it up past the hem of your skirt to grab greedily at your flesh. He hikes your leg up by his hip and you hook your knee around it to pull him impossibly close.

His touch is tender even as he practically swallows you whole, thumb stroking the side of your thigh where your skirt has ridden up. He rolls his hips up against your experimentally and you whine, urging him to do it again. This is what he’s wanted — craved — for so long. You’re warm and soft in ways that his imagination could have never replicated. He’s dizzy, drunk on your kiss, on your touch, on you.

He’s attached himself to your neck again — the other side this time — when the lights flicker on, startling you both into looking up at the ceiling.

The room is filled with nothing but the sound of your combined laboured breathing, and when he looks back at you, he finds your face flushed and your lipstick smudged. You look back at him and he notices your pupils are blown wide as you suddenly smile and start giggling.

“What?” He chuckles, letting go of your thigh so that you can stand on your own two feet again.

“Rum raisin looks good on you, doctor.” You laugh, thumbing the remnants of your kisses off of his bottom lip.

He kisses you once again, smiling against your lips.

You tug him back and laugh again, “You’re making it worse!”

He does it again, and again, and then peppers kisses over the side of your neck until you’re giggling something awful and have to scrunch your shoulder to your ear to keep him from tickling you.

“Spencer!” You squeak as quietly as you can and he pulls away laughing.

Your giggles die down, and then you’re both left in a silence that isn’t awkward, but isn’t quite comfortable either. He has to say something, but what?

“Hey, would you, um,” You start, glancing down at his lips and biting at yours nervously, “Would you like to go out with me sometime? Just us?”

He blinks, wanting to pinch himself to make sure this is actually happening, “Like, a date?”

You nod. He blinks again before practically beaming at you.

“Yeah.” He nods, attempting to correct the smudged edge of your lipstick with his thumb, “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“Saturday? Five o’ clock? We can do whatever you want.”

He nods again, “Sounds good.”

“Good.” You smile, leaning up to kiss him, your touch so saccharine and gentle that his legs feel like jello beneath him.

The doorknob jiggles suddenly and he instinctively reaches to help you button up your blouse a little more while you fiddle with the collar until it covers the rather obvious hickey on your neck.

“Hey, are you two still in there?” Derek calls from the other side as you attempt to help Spencer fix his hair to no avail.

“Uh, yeah!” He calls, clearing his throat after his voice cracks up an octave, “We accidentally locked ourselves in.”

“Here.” You bend to slide the key under the door, and this time, he stares unabashedly, “That’s the key.”

The knob jiggles a little more before the door opens, and when it does, Derek eyes the two of you suspiciously, “You guys okay?” He locks eyes with Spencer and smirks, “You seem a little winded.”

“Yeah, we’re okay.” You smile, hastily walking out, “The boxes were just heavy. Plus, we had to walk all the way down here.”

“Yeah, okay.” Derek says, though it’s clear he isn't convinced. When you get a little further ahead of them, he claps Spencer on the back with a bright grin, “About time, loverboy!”

“Shut up.” Spencer shoots back, though he can’t help the smile that creeps up on his face.

This is not how he expected his confession to go, but — as he watches you walk down the hall a little ways ahead of him with a renewed pep in your step and your hair a little dishevelled — he is so glad it went the way it did.

———————————————————————

Edit: I had a couple people request a part 3 (Possibly smutty, but we shall see), and I'm curious about whether or not y'all would want that? Just let me know in the replies/reblogs. :)

Update: Part 3 is posted and linked at the top of this post :)

Taglist:

@louderfortheback @theblaxkbird @marimorena06 @special-forces7 @lolilkkk

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds

[borathae]

"Taehyung shows you a spell which makes your strap function like real cock, then asks you to fuck him with it and he knows exactly how he wants it to happen. He's going to be the one getting pounded, but he'll drive you fucking crazy in process."

❖ Requested by all of you through a poll ❖

Pairing: Vampire!Taehyung x Witch!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Magic!AU, Smut

Warnings: this is nasty porn besties, Dom!Taehyung who takes the dick, whiney sub!Reader, sex magic, her strap functions and looks like real cock, i'll also only refer to her strap as her cock/dick, and i'll use gender neutral nicknames, so i think that male readers can have a blast with this one as well <3, in some way this is a first time for her, blowjob, deep throating, snowballing, cum eating, handjob, frotting, multiple orgasms for both, anal sex (Tae receiving), hole stretching with cock, cowboy position, praise, dirty talk, Tae calls himself her "bitch", strength kink, he pins her down by her wrists, bro he needs to leave me alone fr, the biggest cum kink, a lil bit of spit kink too, scent kink, subby tears of pleasure, creampies, belly bulging, cum leaking, squirting, i'm telling you this is the cum kink story, once again this is so filthy and nasty, this is both gentle but also rough fucking, they're both done afterwards, loving aftercare, they're kinky and in love

Wordcount: 8.1k

a/n: just a reminder that you guys chose this story for his bday. you brought this upon yourselves 😩 enjoy besties ❤

“How does it feel?”

“I can’t tell a difference. I guess heavier?” you shift from one leg to the other, looking down at your own crotch, “I can feel that there’s something between my legs. It’s tangling.”

“It’s nice, is it not?”

“It’s….it’s different.”

You look up, expecting to meet his eyes, but you don’t. He is mesmerised by your cock and how it sits so heavily between your legs.

It was hard once, made out of silicone with no possible chance of softening. And then you spoke the magic words. The words he showed you and practiced with you until they finally worked. And oh how they worked. Your once hard, unmoving silicone dick softened and melted with your body until it was part of you. Now made out of flesh and with feeling in it. The colour doesn’t quite match your skin tone because the dildo was a few shades warmer than your real skin, but it somehow makes it look even sexier. Part of you for one night, so perfectly in place even if it was once impossible to fit. It is so wonderfully arousing to Taehyung.

“Darling?”

“Mhm?” he lifts his head and with it, his eyes.

“You stared.”

“Because I want you”, he says and draws closer. His big hand comes to touch your waist, his eyes race over your features obsessively. His pupils are dilated, “how is it for you? Truthfully.”

“Weird?” you say and chuckle shyly, “I can’t decide yet. I feel a weight between my legs, it’s tugging down a little. I never felt like this before.”

He lowers his lids playfully, whispering his next words.

“Shall I take the weight off of you?”

Your stomach tingles, your hands come to touch his bared chest. Clothes aren’t necessary anymore. You had to undress for the spell naturally and Taehyung never wore more than just some jockstraps. Not to forget the golden necklaces around his neck and the emerald earrings adorning his ears. He looks so sexy and his words make you want him even more.

“Mhm darling? I can do it for you, carry the heavy burden in your stead”, he offers, drawing tingling circles on your waist with just his fingertips.

“How would you do it?” you ask for the sole reason of wanting him to show you.

“Can I show you?” he asks, looking deep into your eyes.

“Yes”, you allow him, feeling mesmerized by him.

The deep connection remains as Taehyung lets his right hand glide down your body until he can let it disappear between your legs. He cups your heavy balls and soft cock. His hand is so big that all of it fits inside his palm.

Warmth.

You let out a shaky gasp, closing your fingers on his chest in a needy grasp. You can actually feel his touch. It is right there, between your legs, cradling what once wasn’t part of you, but what now feels so achingly needy for more.

Taehyung bounces your heaviness in his palm gently.

“Like this”, he whispers.

“Tae, this is…oh god…”

He needs to hold back right now. He dreamt of holding your cock ever since your magic was discovered. It is difficult to go slow right now because all he craves is to fuck you senseless. But he knows better. He knows that this is new to you, that you never experienced such sensations before and that every step taken too quickly could be overwhelming for you.

So he cradles you, bouncing you in his safe hand while his left hand caresses your waist. You keep tensing your abs. He feels them tighten under his thumb each time he brushes it over them.

“Does this lessen the weight?” he asks in a whisper.

“Fuck, it just make it worse”, you breathe out as you speak, resulting in your words to swirl over his skin. Your breath smells minty. Taehyung matches with you.

“It does? Where is it worst?” he asks and opens his palm to reveal your cock to him. He keeps his hand under it, carrying it safely so he could trace it with his left hand. His fingertips brush over your balls first, outlining them, “there?”

You throb softly, growing just a little in his palm.

“Tae, this is…” you get out and exhale shakily, looking down. There is so much heat rushing to your groin. You genuinely never felt so much fucking heat between your legs. It’s insane and it’s somehow getting more and more, the longer he is tracing your cock.

“Or is it there?” he asks, dancing his finger up your shaft.

More warmth. So much warmth. How easy is it to get so heated up? Why is it so easy? He barely did anything and you already feel like burning up. 

“Or maybe there?” he asks and presses his finger against your tip to draw circles on it.

“Woah”, you gasp, flinching away from him so harshly you actually slip out of his hold.

He stares. You stare. The heat between your legs throbs. It throbs so bad that it is almost painful. With every throb the weight seems to grow and at the same time get less. The tug downwards decreases while the heaviness of your balls somehow gets more. It is so impossible to describe.

You look down. You are hard. The view is familiar to you because you had a lot of hard dick in front of you already, but tonight is different. Tonight it is truly connected to you. Your skin blends into that of your erection and you know for a fucking fact that the blood you feel throbbing inside it, is your very own.

“Taehyung, this is fucking insane”, you let out, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I know and it is so bloody arousing”, he says and closes the distance between you and him until he can trap your hard cock between your bodies. You feel how he bends it up and how it gets squished between your tummy and his crotch. His clothed cock presses against your bared one, sharing warmth. The fabric of his jockstrap is soft and rough at the same time.

“Wait Tae, wait”, you try to flee again because this is actual insanity, but Taehyung doesn’t let you. He keeps you pinned to him with his hands on your hips, silencing your worrying by kissing your neck. You heart flutters, but you barely feel it because all you can concentrate on is the heavy throbbing between your legs each time his lips touch your skin.

“Holy fuck Tae, please just”, you gasp and tremble, pushing at his chest softly, “just give me a second, please.”

“I am”, he promises you and takes a step back, “talk to me”, he says, holding your hands. He caresses your knuckles with his thumb, looking at you with adorning eyes.

“I”, you squeak out and stumble back, “I need to just take a moment. This is a lot. Holy fuck.”

“Hey, I’m here, hey”, he gasps and holds your hands tighter to prevent you from falling, “sit down, it’s safer to sit”, he offers and lifts you atop his bed. It is a very high bed and because he sat you down quite far up the mattress, it results in your feet tangling in the air. He gets between your legs, towering over you just enough that you have to tilt your head to make eye contact.

“Talk to me. Is it not your taste?” he asks, caressing your upper arms slowly. His eyes race between yours, looking so utterly attentive.

“It’s just….a lot. I don’t know. I feel so fucking hot between my legs. Is that normal? What if the spell didn’t work correctly? I feel every throb, Tae. It’s so hot”, you say with serious eyes.

Taehyung’s gaze softens. He chuckles fondly.

“Why are you laughing? I’m serious, Tae.”

“I know, gosh I know. Please forgive me”, he says between giggles, cupping your cheeks to caress them gently, “it is just that…my darling, this is how an erection feels like. You are simply horny.”

“But…but it’s so hot. Like, so hot.”

“I am aware.”

“That’s normal?”

He nods his head.

“You feel like this every time you get horny?”

“Yes.”

“Tae.”

“Why?”

“This is awful, oh my god, I might actually burst.”

Taehyung laughs, scrunching his nose up as he does.

“Don’t laugh, I’m actually suffering.”

“Please forgive me, but you are just so adorable”, he says.

You huff out air, frowning at him with a pout. His gaze softens, his hands brush down your arms soothingly.

“I can make it better”, he offers.

“You can?” you whisper, feeling flutters in your stomach.

“I can”, he breathes and brushes his fingers over your cockhead. Just a feather light touch, but it still felt intense to you.

You moan, rolling your hips up to chase him. Another touch never comes, even more intense heat remains.

“Just tell me that you want to continue this and I will”, he adds.

“I do”, you say and add a word you never meant more than right now, “please.”

His lips curl into a proud smirk, his eyes lower playfully.

“Get on the bed, rest back against it”, he orders.

You follow instantly, pulling your legs up on the mattress so you can move to the middle of the bed and rest back into the heap of soft pillows. They engulf you, allowing you to be comfortable and still sit up enough that you have a view of your lower body. Taehyung joins you on the bed, kneeling down next to you.

He guides his hand down your torso, tracing your inner thigh next. You throb, sneaking a glance at him to see if he also noticed. He meets your eyes.

“Needy?” he asks.

“Did you see that?”

“I did.”

“Tae, it’s”, you shift impatiently, “it’s so hot.”

“I know darling, I know”, he says and wraps his fingers around the base of your cock, “and so heavy as well. Darling, you are so heavy in my hand.”

“Don’t tease me. Please”, you wanted to order him, but it only comes out as a beg. Of course it does. You are so madly horny right now. 

Taehyung was the one to introduce you to the idea of experimenting with sex spells. For now, you have already perfected a spell which enchants ropes to make it impossible for even vampires to break through them. Another spell controls his orgasms and make it impossible for him to climax without your magical allowance. Your newest spell is this one right here and it is definitely messing with your sanity the most. You are so horny that you can barely even think. 

“Please…”

“Please what, darling?” Taehyung teases, tickling your inner thigh gently. 

“Do something please.” 

“Something? Like this?” he asks and lowers himself to your cock, flicking his tongue over your tip gently.

You flinch again.

“Holy fuck.”

“How was that?”

“Wet. Holy fuck.”

“Yes, tongues tend to be wet”, he is teasing. Of course he is. 

“Tae, please”, you whine, wiggling your legs, “I can’t take your attitude right now. Please.”

He chuckles, “adorable”, he whispers before swirling his tongue over your tip. Once. Twice. 

“Tae, oh god. This is insane, seriously.”

“You taste so good, darling”, he whispers.

“I can feel every fucking word you speak. Holy fuck.”

“You’re so needy. It’s adorable.”

“Tae. Holy fuck.”

He chuckles, wrapping his lips around you.He takes only your tip inside and gives it one suck, then lets it go with a bop of his lips. He rubs them against your tip, giving you small licks.

“Holy fuck”, you gasp, bucking your hips in sync with your fingers tangling in his hair.

Taehyung moves his head with it, preventing your cock from slipping into his mouth. He chuckles. The vibrations force you to squeeze your eyes shut in a full face scrunch.

“Tae, what the fuck. What the…actual..f-fuck.”

He slips off of you again, laughing deeply.

“I haven’t even done anything yet.”

“Oh god…”

“You are adorable”, he says fondly and climbs between your legs. He lies down on his tummy, draping his arms over your thighs so he could support himself on his elbows and then he takes your cock between his fingers again. He moves closer, connecting his lips with your balls by nuzzling his entire lower face between your legs. He purrs deliciously, breathing in your sensual musk as his hungry lips suck on the sensitive skin of your balls.

“Holy fuck.”

You try to say something else. Seriously, you do. But you can’t think of any other words. He barely hasn’t done anything yet and you are already too dumb to speak.

His purrs vibrate against your skin. It feels electric and goes so deep, you swear you can feel it in your bones. His lips are soft and wet from his drool. His tongue is even wetter and feels ten degrees hotter on your skin. This is impossible to handle and so you squeeze your thighs around his head, grasping his lower arms in a desperate plea for help.

“Mhhm darling”, Taehyung comes up for air, “you smell like sex. Truly, I want to devour you.”

“Taeee”, you whine, pulling a face of devastation. 

He moans hungrily, dragging his lips up the thick vein on the underside of your cock until he has your frenulum under them. He purrs, opening his mouth to stick out his tongue and grind the flat of it against it.

“Tae”, you whimper, grabbing strands of his ebony hair. You know how his tongue feels. You know how wet and hot it is against your bundle of nerves and yet the knowledge still doesn’t make it easier right now. You should know how good he feels, but you still can’t believe this is happening. This feels so much different than on other nights. This starts off on your tip like fire and crawls down your entire length until it spreads through your legs.  

Taehyung loves how your thighs shake under his arms and how hard you tug on his hair. His scalp stings, motivating him to ruin you even more. You should know how it is to be sucked off. You deserve it. You deserve to have your balls worshipped until they are dripping in saliva, you deserve to have your frenulum licked until it is swollen and you deserve to have your every inch fucked by tight throat until you are throbbing painfully. Taehyung wants to make sure that you experience everything because everything is what you deserve.

He sticks out his tongue further and opens up farther, letting your cock sink into his mouth. He moans as he swallows you, basking in the high-pitched squeaks you let out. You begin chanting in whispers.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god.”

Deeper. Your chants grow in pitch, as they do in volume, the tension on his hair increases. Taehyung moans. His lips meet your groin, his throat bulges from your cock.

“Oh g-god Tae”, you yelp and thrust your hips up as the unfamiliar sensation throws you over the edge.

Taehyung knew that it would happen. Of course it would. Your pretty virgin cock was never sucked off before, let alone was allowed to rest snug in a tight throat. Of course you would climax instantly. He moans deeper just to make it more intense for you, keeping your writhing body down with minimal effort. You might rip his hair out if you continue tugging, but he doesn’t mind. The pain is goddamn glorious to experience.

“Tae!” you can’t stop almost screaming his name, arching your back over and over as fiery pleasure throbs in your cock. Your tip feels on fire, your shaft is charged in painful electricity and your balls are convulsing so tightly that they hurt. Your legs are also useless, weak sticks of shaking muscles right now. This orgasm wasn’t planned, it wasn’t expected and it makes it feel all the more unbearable.

Taehyung slips off your cock the moment it begins to die down. Of course he would know when to stop. He gives you no time to catch your breath as he places his hand on the back of your neck and pulls you into a tongue kiss. You can’t reciprocate it at first, gurgling desperately as he fills your mouth with your own cum. It tastes slightly salty with a faint bitter note at the back of your throat. This isn’t how he tastes when he normally kisses you after head. This is more intense and leaves you feeling droopy. Taehyung licks into your mouth, scooping out the cum he fed you just so he can swallow it with needy moans. He can’t catch everything, resulting in your chins to get messy and sticky as you desperately try to kiss him back.

It gets easy until it suddenly doesn’t because he decides to wrap his hand around your cock and jerk you off quickly. You bite down on his lip to the point where you feel it break. His spit burns on your tongue as his blood mixes with it. He breaks away, looking at you with slightly panicky eyes.

“You bit me”, he whispers. His lips is already healed again, but the knowledge of what he just fed you remains. Will you end it now?

“Tae”, you beg and pull him back into a kiss.

He purrs, deepening his grip on your head in sync with his hand speeding up around your cock. He feels dizzy at the realisation that you don’t care about the mishap. He meets your tongue and twists his fist around your cockhead.

And the kiss breaks again. Of course it does.

“Oh god”, you whimper, sitting up straight because the sensation overwhelms you.

“How is that?” he asks.

“It hurts.”

“Hurts? Need me to stop?”

You shake your head, “sensitive”, you squeak and sob softly, “Tae please.”

“You’re okay. I know your cock is sensitive. Of course it is. Your pretty untouched cock can barely handle it, but it’s okay. I know what I’m doing”, he talks you through the handjob, keeping you with him with his hand on the back of your head. The only way you could look away is by closing your eyes, but you don’t want to. You want to keep looking up at him as he jerks you off. It feels so good. You are so sensitive from your surprise orgasm that it hurts so fucking bad and yet you don’t want it to stop because there are electric tingles deep, deep down you crave to have at the very surface of your cock.

“Do you feel it? Mhm? Can you feel how good I can handle cock?” he taunts and digs the pad of his thumb into your weeping slit. A stinging stretch radiates from it, pressure so intense you wonder if he is bursting your urinary tract is shooting all the way down to your balls.

You widen your eyes, squeaking for help. He gives it to you gently. Lovingly. Softly. He slips his thumb out of your slit again, massaging it in circular motions until the sting ceases to exist.

“That’s better, right?” he speaks deeply, caressing the nape of your neck with his thumb.

“Tae”, you spill tears, grasping his pecs desperately, “it feels so good.”

“I know it does. Of course it does. You’ve got such a sensitive little cock.”

“Sensitive”, you agree, squeaking helplessly as he begins twisting his hand around your cockhead again. You writhe on the sheets, trying to lie down but he keeps you with him. He tightens his grip on your head, giving you a warning flicker of his eyes.

“So sensitive, I know. So, so sensitive”, his voice is sweet even when his grip is rough, “it will pass. Trust me, it will pass.”

“I, I think I h-have to pee”, you stutter.

“That’s okay. Just let it out if you need to”, he reassures you, “leaking cocks are my favourite.”

“Tae please stop.”

He slows down his hand, cupping your balls instead to play with them.

“Sorry. Sorry, I’m sorry”, you stutter as you try to catch your breath.

“It’s okay. You’re doing so well, I’m so proud of you”, he soothes you, cradling your cheek in his big hand, “I’m sorry, I know I was a little rough right now. Especially after your first ever orgasm, I know this must have been a lot right now.”

“Yeah, sorry”, you hiccup and shudder, “Tae, kisses please.”

He smiles fondly and pulls you into a kiss. A gentle one for a change. It tastes of love and adoration. His lips guide yours in slow movements, his tongue caresses yours in a tender dance.

Now without support at the back of your head, your body finally gives up on you. You fall back into the pillows, dragging Taehyung right with you. He doesn’t break the kiss, lifting and moving your body until you can comfortable lie on your back and he can rest on top of you. He is between your legs, pressing his clothed crotch against yours.

He doesn’t like that he does. The fabric is too thick of a barrier. He reaches down with one hand and rips the small piece of clothing off his body, throwing it on the floor mindlessly. His cock, hard and wet from slick comes into contact with yours. He rolls his hips slowly, grinding it against yours repeatedly.

The kiss breaks again, just like it has happened with every new sensation he lets you experience. Taehyung isn’t angry that it does, on the contrary he loves it because he can take in the utter look of shock on your face and the intense look of pleasure following right after.

“Can you feel that?” he asks slightly out of breath.

You nod your head, dimpling his shoulders from grabbing them so tightly.

“I’m so hard for you, darling. Feel it”, he whispers and angles his hips so he could grind his cockhead against your frenulum.

“Tae”, you whimper and spill tears.

“Our cocks are melting, darling. We’re so close this way.”

“Tae…”

You squeeze your eyes shut and arch your back. He is so wet. His tip is so soft. The way he is grinding on you feels so incredibly good.

“It feels wonderful for me”, he whispers, “darling, we’re so close. So immensely close”, he adds and deepens the connection by wrapping his long fingers around both your cocks. He presses them together, pumping them in a slow rhythm. It not only gives you the sensation of a handjob, but also grinds your cocks together. The combination of both sensations is unbearable to you. You reach down, grabbing his wrist desperately.

“Please Tae”, you beg shakily.

He slows down gradually until he stops completely. He keeps a hold on your cocks, cradling your pressed together tips in his palm.

“Too much again?”

“I’m so sensitive. I’m sorry”, you get out, whimpering in embarrassment.

“It’s okay. I’m so proud of you”, he calms you down, wiping your tears and kissing your forehead, “I think we are done with foreplay, mhm?”

“Foreplay?”

“Mhm yes”, he smiles against your forehead, “I can’t have you climaxing too many times already. One was enough. The next I want to take up my ass.”

“Oh god”, you croak, writhing on the sheets. It shifts your cock in his hand, sending electricity through your legs. Holy shit, his cock is so close to yours. The grinding is already mind-blowing, but the knowledge of how close he is, drives you even deeper into ruin, “oh god, Tae.”

“Is this something you want to give me, darling?”

You nod your head vigorously.

“You do?”

“Y-yes.”

“Yes? So I can quickly get the lube to make it easier for me?”

You nod your head.

“I love you”, he whispers and kisses your lips, “oh, I want to worship you.”

He leaves you alone on the bed for nothing but a few seconds, returning to you just as your arms have found enough strength to sit yourself up. You look at your own cock and how incredibly hard it is between your legs. It is glistening wet, aching to be touched again.

Taehyung climbs onto your lap, stealing a giggly kiss from you before sitting up. The bottle of lube is between his fingers, he is smiling down at you.

“Are you ready?”

“You didn’t stretch.”

“I’ll manage.”

“But…won’t it hurt?”

“Trust me”, he assures you and lifts his hips so he could shimmy right above your cock. He spreads a thick layer of lube all over your cock, using the access to circle his hole with it. You can’t stop staring, breathing quickly because he keeps stealing your breath. He is seconds away from taking your cock unprepared and there is no ounce of nervousness on his features. He meets your eyes, giving you a sweet smile.

“Nervous?” he asks.

“A little.”

“Don’t be. It will feel so good”, he says and sinks down.

“Holy. Fuck”, you gasp, sitting up in shock.

Taehyung pushes you down again, smiling at you with sparkling eyes.

“Holyfuck”, you get out, arching your back even if he is holding you down.

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

“Yes”, you whimper and grab his wrists. You bottom out, curling your toes as your back once again leaves the sheets. Your eyes roll back and close sensually, “holy fuck.”

“Yeah, right”, he agrees and begins shifting his hips on you back and forth. Slowly because he knows how sensitive virgin dick can be. 

“Tae! Ah.”

“I know. This is amazing, isn’t it?”

“I’m gonna cum, ah.”

“If you have to, do it. I won’t stop afterwards however”, he says.

“Please stop, please stop for a moment, please”, you beg, bruising his thighs as you try to stop him this way.

Taehyung stills his movements, caressing the sides of your neck to soothe you. Your pulse is racing under his fingertips.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“It’s so much”, you croak and peel your eyes open. You gulp, pulling a face of devastation, “I can feel it. Tae, I can feel your ass.” 

“I know”, he says, wiggling just a little to shift your cock in him. He loves the sensation because it gives his hole the possibility of getting used to the stretch.

“I wanted to feel this for years”, you confess with trembling lips as the emotions begin to overwhelm you, “this was a dream of mine. Tae, I-”, your voice cuts off because you have to whimper.

“I know, oh I know”, he wipes the trembles away by cupping your cheeks and kissing your lips. He smiles into the kiss, smiling brighter when he feels your lips curl into a smile as well. 

“I’m so happy”, you whisper shakily into the kiss, grasping the nape of his neck to keep him close.

“I’m happy too, my darling”, he whispers and moans gently, “I feel so stuffed with you. You’re so big.”

“Oh god, Tae this is driving me insane. I can feel you clench. Holy fuck, you’re so hot inside.”

“I’m burning for you”, he rasps and rocks back and forth.

“Tae”, you squeak out quietly.

“Does this feel nice for you?”

“Ye-yeah”, your voice trembles as you speak because all of this is just a little overwhelming to handle.

“It feels nice for me as well”, he sighs and sits up. Your fingers glide from his neck, lying weakly on the pillow. He places his hands on your tummy, using the support to rock back and forth. 

Your eyes close in a roll again, your lips part in needy moans. You grip his thighs, dimpling them desperately. His name is the only word you get out between all your sounds. It tastes saccharine on your tongue.

“I’m so stuffed. Oh so stuffed”, he sighs, lowering his eyes sensually. Taking it slow. This is what he is doing. You need it. He needs it as well. Taehyung took cock without preparation many times before. He also took cocks way bigger than yours, so he is used to a way more painful stretch than he feels right now. It is still very nice to get used to being opened up with slow movements. Because he isn’t bouncing on you, it also means that he is constantly stretching himself. He loves it so much that his toes curl each time he feels your length graze against his prostate.

But enough about him. You are barely holding on. It is already way too arousing to fuck his ass on normal days. You always imagined it to feel warm, but that was wrong. It is burning hot and so tight that it feels as if his ass was jerking you off. His unstretched rim squeezes around your base, forcing your cock to stay so much harder. His walls are so soft and wet. You already thought that his mouth was soft, but this is taking the fucking crown. 

“I think I can’t hold back”, you gasp out, writhing on the sheets.

“It’s alright. Don’t hold back”, he encourages you, staring at your face with obsession in his eyes. You are so beautiful when pleasure controls you. He can’t get enough of you.

“Tae, too much”, you whimper.

“I know, so sensitive. It’s alright, fill my ass with your climax, darling. I’m made for it.” 

“Tae ah god”, you gasp and tense up. It starts off in your tip and shoots down your shaft before it forces your balls to tense and begin throbbing. You feel it squirting out of you. It feels so good. Like one big relief of a fiery burden. His insides get wet and sticky. Hotter as well. Of course he does, you’re climaxing so fucking hot. Of course you warm him up with it. All of it just makes you climax that much harder.

“Yes. Fill me up. Ah darling”, Taehyung growls, rocking his hips on you needily, “give me everything, ah”, he moans and chases it with bounces on your cock. The feeling of being marked as yours is what finally set him off. Your cum sticking to his walls is what makes it impossible to behave any longer. 

He drags his hips up and drops down on you, forcing a guttural grunt out of you. You try to sit up again, grabbing his waist and staring up at him with widened eyes. The utter shock is obvious in them.

He pushes you back into the sheets, smiling down at you with mischief in his eyes. He lifts his hips, drops them, repeats it. Over and over until you realise he is getting used to a rhythm and you have to get used to it with him.

It burns. Your cock is genuinely only staying hard because his tight rim is forcing it to. You claw at his waist, breaking skin but it’s the only way to handle the overstimulation.

You try to say his name but it only comes out as a gurgled, “-ae nngn.” 

“Breathe. That’s what I always do. Breathe.” 

You try to do what he says. It does help a little. Your legs still stay useless however, shaking against your will as he picks up speed gradually. The overstimulation hurts so much more than on other days. You want to flee from it as much as you chase it with weak movements.

“Breathe. Keep breathing. Just keep fucking breathing”, Taehyung lulls and circles his hips as he sinks down. 

“Holy fuck, urgh fuck”, you get out, writhing helplessly because he just doesn’t stop. He continues dancing his hips on you, keeping your cock so, so hard for him, “please oh god”, you beg him, sitting up again because your body reacts like this instinctively.

Taehyung stops you with a strong hold around your wrists. He pushes you back down and pins your wrists down into the ruffled sheets just a little above your head, putting some of his weight on them.

“Stop sitting up, I’m not done with this”, he tells you and slams his hips down on you. Skin slaps against skin. Your cock gets fucked so hard by his tight ass. 

“Tae”, you gasp loudly, writhing in his strong hold in an attempt to flee him. This is too much. You can’t stop fucking leaking and his ass is so fucking tight that each time you bottom out, your cock feels like it might burst from the squeeze.

“Don’t flee this”, he speaks calmly. As if he wasn’t in the process of ruining you, “take it. I know you can do it.”

“Holy fuck, argh”, you arch your back, throw your head back, gasp for fucking air.

Taehyung watches with blown-out pupils as your mouth opens and your tongue curls back in a tortured moan. He slides his hands to your palms and intertwines his fingers with you. You squeeze him back instantly, shaking and trembling whilst at the same time using so much strength that it borders painful.

“Yes that’s better. Hold my hands”, he growls and speeds up.

“Tae please”, you yelp, hitting your head on the sheets repeatedly as you try to take the ride he gives you. Holy fuck your cock is burning up. It hurts so much and yet you don’t want it to stop, “ple-please”, you sob, contorting your face in agony.

“I’m not done, darling. I’m not done”, Taehyung tells you, “I want to use you like a perfect fucking sexdoll.”

“Fuck. Oh fuck, oh god fuck. Ah fuck”, you chant, barely registering his words because all that consumes you is the burning of your cock and the never ending pleasure coursing through your body. Your legs are jello, your muscles can’t work except for uncontrollable shaking he forces out of them each time he slams his bubble butt down on you.

“Take a deep breath for me.”

You try to. You really, really do but you can’t. He knocks the air out of you. Just as he squeezes even the last droplet of desperation from your burning cock.

“Breathe darling, breathe”, he growls and squeezes his hole on you. He moans deeply, basking in your high-pitched mewl of pained pleasure, “your cock is so big. My hole’s so fucking stuffed with you.”

“I can’t”, you croak and sob, arching your back as he forces uncontrollable shakes out of you, “Tae I’m fucking serious, I can’t do this anymore”, you sob, rolling your hips up desperately.

Taehyung doesn’t look at you. Taehyung keeps his head thrown back and rolls his hips as he takes your cock as deep as he can. He aches for you to go so much deeper than you do. He wants to feel it poke the furthest walls of his intestines, wants it truly filling him out.  

“Colour?” he asks you.

“I don’t know anymore”, you get out, writhing under him. You are blurry. Everything is dizzy. Your brain can’t speak. Your eyes can’t hear.

Taehyung rolls his head to front and stops his hips. He cradles your cheeks, wiping away the heavy streak of tears. The touch brings comfort, calming down some of the shaking.

“Look at me”, he says softly.

You peel your eyes open. He is blurry in your vision. A glowing aura surrounds him because you see him double. Or maybe it is because is currently your fucking god. The one who controls your body and whose name you only know how to speak. You grab his wrists, whimpering his name so weakly that it only comes out as squeaks.

“Do you want to stop this?” he asks and traces your lips. They are wet from drool. He smears it all over your skin as he goes to caress your cheek again. Neither of your care.

“Tae”, you whimper and reach for him. You hook your fingers behind his neck and pull him down.

He slams his hand into the pillow beside your head in the last moment, smiling fondly as he gets your tongue wiggling its way over his lower face as you try to kiss him. He chuckles and shows your tongue its destiny by sucking it between his lips and therefore engaging you in a sloppy tongue kiss. You whimper and mewl, pulling him closer, closer, closer. He lets you, kissing you back and sharing way too much fucking saliva with you. He loves it, moaning into you and getting your moans in return.

He keeps his hips still at first. It is clear that all you need is a kiss, that you don’t want to end this yet but you still couldn’t take another bounce. He knows that feeling. He knows how it is to be ridden into a state of complete uselessness and how addicting it is. He knows how hard it is to truly want to stop this because despite the agonizing burn of your cock, the fuck is just way too good to stop it. And he knows that despite all of this obsessive, sick desire your body is weaker than the spirit, that breaks are necessary even if you don’t want them. Taehyung knows those feelings. He knows exactly in what kind of state you find yourself in right now and because he does, he also knows exactly when he is allowed to start moving again.

When you twist his hair with both hands, when your hips wiggle under him and your moans become so much more desperate than before. Taehyung knows and he is there to give it to you so hard.

He starts off slowly, drawing circles with his hips until you notice what is happening and break the kiss to gasp. You share the same air, staring at each other with droopy eyes. At least you do, Taehyung is having a piercing gaze on you, pinning you down with dark siren eyes.

“I’m so stuffed with cock”, he rasps and takes your right hand to put it on his stomach. He presses down, letting you feel how the pressure squishes your cum around. His stomach grumbles and gurgles as your fingers squeeze your cum down and your cock fucks it into him again, “and your cum”, he adds in a breathy moan, “I’m so filled with your cum that it gets hard to keep inside. Do you feel it?”

This is too much. It is already a lot to have him ride your burning cock, but to feel how stuffed with cum he is, is too much.

“Again”, you get out and roll your eyes back without truly bothering to close them. It already feel intense, but what truly makes it unbearable is the fact that Taehyung squeezes your hand closer to his stomach and therefore makes you feel how your cum shoots up his intestines. Maybe this is why it burned so much. Maybe this is why you were so breathless. Because he has been dragging an orgasm to the surface. Again. Again. Again. How many times? How many times is he going to circle and roll his hips as your cock shoots up his tight ass? You can’t find an answer but you know that it doesn’t get easier to bear. On the contrary. Your first orgasm down his throat was short and fiery, your second up his ass was warm and dragged out, this one is intense and fucking addicting. You should want him to stop because your cock is begging you for a break, but you don’t want to. It hurts and you want fucking more, moaning in pained ecstasy as your heavy cock empties itself inside his tight, textured walls.

Taehyung moans with you, throwing his head back in ecstasy because nothing beats getting creampied by you. Over and over again. It doesn’t lose its spark. On the contrary, the more you climax, the fuller he feels. Fuck, the spell makes you so packed with it. No matter how many times you climax, the amount of cum doesn’t get less. Taehyung can feel it fill his stomach and he gets off on it so fucking good that he keeps leaking onto your stomach.

He pushes your wrists together and holds them down with his right hand so he can press his left hand over yours on his stomach. It is bulging. Not only from your cock, but also from being filled with cum.

“I’m so stuffed with you”, he moans loudly, arching his back, “my stomach’s bursting from cum.”

“Tae please, I can’t. Ah!”

“Darling”, he moans, dropping to his elbow so he could moan into your ears, “I’m your fucking bitch”, he mewls and orgasms around your cock.

He becomes unbearably tight, throbbing and pulsating around your cock and making it so much harder to function.

“Tae please. Oh god you are so tight, please. Ah! Tae!” you beg and sob loudly, grasping his tensed biceps because it is all you can handle.

“This is the last one. Promise. Please just fill me up with everything”, he begs and orders at the same time, rutting against you as his ass overflows with your cum shots. His current high ruins him. He didn’t even know how much pressure was in his prostate until your squirting cock broke him. He can barely breathe, pushing your cock out against his will because he is tightening so fucking hard. It only makes him fuck back so much harder and quicker, needing to stay stuffed like lungs need air.

And so you are destined to shake, writhe and beg until Taehyung milked you dry. Well, as dry as you can get because even after your orgasm, you swear you could probably cum again. Not that you want to, but you swear that you could.

You drop your hand from his stomach and sob his name.

Taehyung knows that it is over, that your cock throbbed as much as it can and that you aren’t lost in another high anymore. He also knows exactly how to move to get you to the highest peak of pleasure. He knows because he has done it a million times before. He peels himself off of you, sitting up straight which shifts your cock deeper again. It presses against his abdominal wall, forcing it to stick out where your burning tip lies. He is so filled with cum that sitting up like this actually hurts in his stomach. He is so stuffed and there is no way for it all to go. He tenses up involuntarily, easing the pressure by lifting his hips just enough that he has your cock halfway inside.

His hole flutters and relaxes against his will, releasing spurts of your cum in wet, sinful sounds.

“I’m so stuffed”, he whimpers and for the first time tonight, he sounds so utterly submissive. He rests his hands on your waist, using it for support as he tries to sink down on you again. His hole squelches and squirts more cum, enabling your cock to fill him up without any sort of friction.

You bottom out. The pressure returns. Taehyung mewls your name. You sob his name.

“I’m so stuffed”, he says again because this is all he can really tell you, “please can you go a little longer? Please one more time. I need it one more time.”

“I don’t know”, you get out, writhing between his fingers.

“One more time, I’ll be gentle. Like this”, he begs and bounces on your cock in a slow rhythm.

“Tae”, you mewl, twisting the sheets.

You are ruined. He is ruined. It is obvious to both of you that the right thing to do right now would be to stop this, but you can’t. Your cock is on fire, how he is going to milk you again is a mystery to you but you know that he will. Taehyung’s stomach feels like bursting and is convulsing constantly in a weak attempt to get him to relieve himself of the pressure, how he is going to fit more of your cum inside is a mystery to him but he wants it so bad. He fucked you delirious and in the process ruined himself as well. He needs to have one more.

“Tae, I have to- it, it feels like pee a-again.”

“You just want to squirt. It’s okay, don’t fight it”, he assures you, adding the most desperate of “please”.

“No. No, this doesn’t f-feel like squirt, Tae ah.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay no matter what it is.”

“I can’t stop it.”

“Yes, please.”

“Tae, oh god”, you croak and then the pressure in your lower stomach bursts for the last time. You relieve yourself inside him in spurts of liquid, translucent cum. It feels so good. No words on earth could ever be enough to describe how good it feels to let all this pressure just explode.

“Thank you”, Taehyung keens and arches his back. He stills completely, “oh god, you’re making me squirt too”, he mewls and releases all over your torso in hot spurts of translucent goodness.

Taehyung is a gentleman. He likes cleanliness and is never dirty. So why. Why is it that whenever you and he fuck, you end up so fucking dirty and disgusting? Truly it is a phenomenon unable to be explained and a sensation so addicting you wish to never stop experiencing it. 

He drops to his elbows, rocking his hips gently so you could share in the afterglow. You finally begin feeling the fire die down in your cock. This must be how softening feels like. 

“Tae”, you whimper.

“I love you”, Taehyung squeaks out, trembling on you.

“I love you too”, you sob, hugging him tightly, “oh god. Oh god what just happened?”

“I know, I can’t hold myself for long.”

“It’s okay, just drop.”

Taehyung trembles and drops down onto you, blanketing you under his weight. His hole pulsates rhythmically as his orgasm dies down slowly. You continue throbbing as you finally begin softening.

“You did so well”, Taehyung whispers, hugging you against him, “I’m so proud of you, my sweetest darling.”

“Tae, I’m happy.”

“I’m happy too, my darling. So happy”, he says and then silence surrounds you.

You couldn’t possibly talk more. You are done for. Taehyung feels the same. It’s always like this with you and him. You get lost in the sex you are having and it ends up ruining both of you to the point of non-verbal cuddles and fights for air.

Taehyung recovers quicker than you, sitting up slowly. Your arms glide from his body and just kind of drop into the sheets. You don’t fix them, letting them lie where they first land. Your eyes race between the others’. His hair is messy, hanging into his features. He smiles. You retort it weakly.

“How was that for your first time?” he asks.

“You’re going to kill me one day”, you whisper in a croaky voice.

He chuckles, “does this mean that you liked it?”

You nod your head, rolling it to the side afterwards. You close your eyes in flutters.

“I’m fucking dead, holy fuck this actually just happened.”

“Mhm yes, it really did”, he snickers, “do you want to see something very sexy?”

“Yeah, as long as you’re not going to touch my cock again. It might fall off you do.”

“No”, he laughs, “no, I promise I won’t. Look at my butt.”

“Alright?”

You shift your eyes to it. He lifts himself off your cock. It flops onto your stomach weakly. He positions himself above it and then seems to relax his muscles. What looks like liters of cum runs out of him in a steady stream.

“Oh god”, you croak, propping yourself up on your elbow.

“It doesn’t stop”, Taehyung says and giggles, pressing his hand against his stomach to squeeze out even more of it. It is running down on each side of your stomach by now, soaking the sheets.

“This is so hot, Tae. Oh god, did I do that?”

“You did”, he says and sighs, “it hurt so much to have all of this inside. I was so close to bursting.”

“Holy cow. This is….fuck, this is hot.”

It finally stops, trickling out of him in an uncoordinated rhythm.

“Ah hm”, Taehyung hums, trembling a little, “empty. Heh.”

“Seriously, if you didn’t ruin me as hard as you did, I would have flipped you and fucked you senseless right now”, you murmur and writhe, “oh god, it’s everywhere though. And so warm”, you whine.

Taehyung laughs, nodding his head, “I know. So messy”, he sits down on your stomach, getting his ass dirty as well. His weight feels so good on your cock. Warm and not at all uncomfortable. He cups your cheeks and pulls you into a kiss.

You hook your arms behind his head, letting him pull you up until he sits on your lap and your chests are melted into one. It spreads the mess everywhere, but it’s already too late to care about that. You’ll just have to take a shower later.

“Holy fuck, I love you so much”, Taehyung whispers between kisses, “if the world ever stops turning, I’ll push her myself just so I can give myself more time with you.”

You giggle, letting him kiss you all over your face with your eyes closed in happy bliss.

“I love you too, Tae. So much.”

#taehyung smut #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung scenario #taehyung oneshot #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts scenario #bts oneshot #bts x reader #bts x you #bangtan smut #bangtan fanfic #bangtan fanfiction #bangtan scenario #bangtan oneshot #bangtan x reader #bangtan x you #vampire!taehyung #vampire!bts #vampire!bangtan #fanfic: sanguis duology

[boorines]

sushi and soft kisses | kim mingyu

“so”, you hear from your spot behind the kitchen counter, “am i right in assuming you loved the lasagna?”

you breathe out a laugh while digging around for a pair of kitchen scissors. “yes, gyu, and i’ll say it only one more time. y’know, just in case the first 15 didn’t inflate your chef ego”. there’s only fondness in your words, you’d eat his lasagna and compliment it for the next 20 years, but he didn’t need to know that.

drawers and cabinets open and swing shut as you look for the small pair of scissors for your sealed packet of dried seaweed. you huff in defeat and walk over to mingyu’s place on the couch, wordlessly holding out the packet. he puffs out his chest in exaggeration, shoots you a dazzling smile and tears the plastic with ease. you go to pat his head in thanks before he catches it and leaves a feather-light kiss on the back of your palm. even after 3 years of compliments, touches and kisses you find yourself blushing at the action.

you walk back behind the kitchen counter, getting comfortable as you prepare for 20 minutes of wrapping tuna and rice balls in now ready-to-use seaweed. 2 minutes deep in your hard work you notice a pair of arms leaning against the counter. you look up and find yourself face to face with your boyfriend.

“hi”, you giggle.

“hi, chef”, he whispers back.

you pick up a wrapped rice ball and hold it against his lips, him opening his mouth in compliance. “good?”

“excellent”, he mumbles around a mouth full of rice and tuna. “maybe even better than my lasagna”.

you laugh with a roll of your eyes. “yeah yeah, mister world’s best lasagna”. you feel a bite being held up to your mouth and you accept being fed contentedly. you smile at him, all bright and inviting and he can’t help but melt. before you know it, there are arms around your waist and a kiss being pressed to your shoulder.

“i hope you’re okay with being called mrs world’s best lasagna by our friends for a long, long time”, he says and you short circuit. mingyu hasn’t been shying away from talks of becoming more and it never fails to make butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“oh, i could get used to it. especially if i get this treatment every time i cook”, you say coyly. this, mingyu takes as an invitation.

suddenly, you feel your feet lift off the ground as you’re carried to the couch, placed softly between the cushions. the seat dips beside you as mingyu drapes himself over your form, head nuzzling into your neck. you feel his warm breath on your skin as he sighs in content.

you swell with warmth as your hands tangle in his hair, subconsciously carding through his curls. “pretty boy, you forgot the sushi balls i spent ages making on the counter”, you punctuate your words with a kiss on his mess of hair.

he props his head up to look at you, “we’ll get to them later, i have something tastier with me”, he says with a smirk. you feel your stomach tighten at his words but you choose to hit him lightly on his arm instead. he laughs at your red cheeks and leans in to place a soft kiss on your mouth. you feel him smile on your lips when you kiss him back with added pressure.

“scandalous, gyu”, you whisper as you pull away to look at his face.

“mm, you don’t make it easy for me”.

you laugh and move your hands to his cheeks, cupping his face as you press a kiss to his nose. then one more to his lips.

he’s gone for you. your bright eyes looking at him say so much more than any words can. he doesn’t know what to do with himself but stare a little longer. he squeezes your waist when you whisper a quiet “yeah?”.

“nothing, i just love you”.

“i love you, too”, you smile, “what’s brought this on?”

“just love my pretty girl”, he says matter-of-factly.

your cheeks colour for maybe the 20th time today. and oh, does he notice.

“how about we have your sushi and finish with some… dessert”. you turn a deeper shade of pink and his lips quirk up when he feels your legs tighten around him. he pushes himself off the couch and gets ready to scoop you up into his arms. your hand wraps around his bicep.

“actually, let’s skip to dessert”.

—

ahhhhh this is my first work!! i really hope u enjoy it and i can’t wait to bring you more! requests are open!

#seventeen fluff #seventeen #mingyu fluff #mingyu drabble #svt fluff #svt #kim mingyu #mingyu #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen fic #svt fic #mingyu x reader #mingyu fic #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu fic #mingyu imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #mingyu smut #kim mingyu smut #svt smut #kim mingyu imagines #svt imagines #mickeyboos

[thecomfortgoth]

Peeping Tom Part 2

18+ MDNI (just don't, ok?)

Part 1 can be found here. Masterlist can be found here.

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader x Perv!Steve Harrington

Summary: Steve hadn't been able to get what he'd saw behind that gym block out of his mind. Even when he was fucking other girls. A confession, a confrontation and a deal is made.

WC: 8.2k

CW: unprotected p in v sex (use a condom, pls), booty call, masturbation (m), panty sniffing/licking, gaslighting, use of degrading pet names, use of praisey pet names, daddy kink, dom!Steve, ONE use of y/n (I tried avoiding it but I couldn't), face fucking, fingering (f receiving), Steve being a fuckboy and a pervert, very small & brief mention of a piss kink (only time this will ever happen), mention of squirting, posessiveness, jealousy, mentions of voyeurism/exhibitionism, violence (there's a little bit of blood), bullying/teasing, illusions to/discussion of cheating, dirty talk, kinda angst? all characters are 18+

Please let me know if I've forgotten anything and I will add it.

A/N: okay here it is, part 2 finally. It was originally going to end up being huge so please don't worry, this is NOT the end of this story, there WILL be a part 3. I am a little worried this will be a bit of a let down, but I promise part 3 is gonna be worth it, so bare with me, it's coming. Leave feedback, let me know if you enjoyed it!

My requests are currently OPEN and I write for Eddie, Steddie, Steve and Billy. Send me some stuff!

Smut (and a little bit of angst this time) under the cut

He knew he'd find you here. Standing at your locker, completely unaware of his presence.

He snorted a quiet laugh to himself as he thought of how that wasn't the first time you didn't know he was there. He watched you from down the hall, sorting through textbooks and putting some in your bag, taking others out and slotting them into their rightful place inside the small metal closet full of your belongings.

His eyes gazed over the little dress you were wearing today. A gorgeous deep wine red, strappy with a black t-shirt underneath, the fabric hugging at your waist and flowing out around your hips. Your legs were bare, they looked like they were so fucking soft. The whole ensemble finished off with a pair of simple black leather platform ankle boots.

Steve had never really been one for noticing exactly what a girl was wearing, usually too focused on getting them out of their clothes to be bothered with it. But with you? It was different. He kinda wanted to fuck you fully clothed, hiking that pretty dress up enough for him to slot between your thighs and slip inside that soaked slit between your legs that he'd thought about since it was first revealed to him last week.

Fuck, he'd thought about it almost every night. Even when he was balls deep inside whatever his flavour of the day was. But he also thought about having you completely bare and exposed for him too. Alot.

Before he knew it, he was moving forwards, smirking a little as he saw your eyes flash towards him, finally noticing him. Your cheeks turned a real pretty shade of pink and he just knew it complimented the colour of your perky nipples, and that it had flushed all the way up to the tip of your ears.

You'd been actively trying to avoid him. Apart from a few little winks in the corridors in passing which made you want to shrivel up with embarrassment, you'd managed to successfully do so. But now he was coming up to you. And Eddie wasn't here to hide behind or use as an excuse or a distraction. The hallway was filled with strangers as you scanned around for one singular familiar face, cursing under your breath as you heard the footsteps get closer.

"Looking for someone, pretty girl?" He crooned, smooth and his voice still a little thick with the morning. Turning your head you saw him leaning against the locker next to yours, a thumb slotted into the belt loop of blue jeans as his other hand held the strap of his backpack.

Fuck. You had to talk to him now. You didn't want to be rude and you definitely didn't want to just walk away. It'd look really fucking strange if you did that. As much as you wanted to, so badly. "Uh.. n-no I was just.. seeing if Eddie was coming, he should be here a-any second now" you stuttered out nervously, giving him a small tight lipped smile, trying to deter him by threatening the appearance of your large intimidating boyfriend. You definitely had scary dog privileges, and you were thankful for it right now.

"Oh I'm sure he's coming alright" he grinned at you, bearing his teeth like a shark, eyeing you up and down slowly, drinking you in. You found it somewhat threatening. Even if you couldn't help but think about just how perfect his incisors would feel sinking into the skin of your shoulder. You swallowed and shook your head a little at his comment, trying to get rid of your thoughts as the blush on your face deepened.

"Look, Steve, I-I know you saw us that day behind the gym block b-but-" you started, looking down at your feet as you closed your locker but were cut off by him laughing a little at you. Kind of meanly. You looked at him in confusion, reaching up and fiddling with the guitar pick necklace of Eddie's that you always wore. He'd told you it would show everyone you were his girl - even if everyone already knew that. It'd become somewhat of a security item for you now.

"B-but what?" He mocked you a little, cocking his head to the side and looking at you now like he pitied you, still with that fucking stupid grin on his face. "Don't sit there and act all shy, sweets. You definitely weren't when I sat and watched your boyfriend drill his dick inside you while you flicked your tongue at me and watched me cum in front of you" he chuckled low, getting a little closer to you.

You still couldn't look at him. You kept your gaze on the floor, shuffling uncomfortably from foot to foot. You felt like the walls were closing in the closer he got, feeling your back hit against the cool metal behind you and a hand plant itself next to your head, the sound of it making you gasp a little and your head shooting up. You looked at the hand. It was his hand. His big, thick fingers tapping steadily at the grate of the locker. Why did you clench your thighs at the sight of them, thinking about how they'd feel stuffed inside you?

You turned your face slowly to see him closer than ever, only inches from your face now. Jesus fucking Christ, what was he doing?! Eddie was sure to come around the corner any moment now and catch you two like this. And he'd fucking rip him limb from limb if he saw him up this close and personal to you. Even if he wasn't even touching you. "Y-you need to go" you squeaked out pathetically, your voice just above a whisper.

"Why? I mean, it's not like Eddie's gonna really care. He let me watch you two fuck, didn't he?" He grinned his teeth at you wider, the grin faltering a little as you ducked your head again. "Shit" he muttered under his breath. "He had no fucking clue did he? You let me see all that and he didn't even know? And you still haven't ratted me out? Wow, maybe you are a dirty little slut after all, keeping naughty little secrets like that from your boyfriend" he groaned a little, getting a tiny bit closer. "Wonder if you'd keep any more dirty little secrets from him.." he said in a raspy tone, making your heart flutter at a million miles an hour for more than one reason.

"You want me to make your cunt drip down your leg with my cum like he did that day?" He smirked as you gasped at his words, your face shooting up as you looked at him angrily now, Steve getting ever closer to you as his hot breath fanned your face. "He doesn't have to know, does he? Cause you can keep a secret, can't you?"

You'd had enough. You couldn't fucking take this bullshit anymore. You used all your strength and pushed him away from you, watching as he stumbled back and laughed at you, seeing you storm off down the hallway with the straps of your backpack gripped tightly in both hands. Your face was now matching the colour of your dress and your jaw clenched, lips pursed tightly against each other as you made your way to class, steam practically rising out of your head.

He'd got what he wanted. He'd successfully riled you up. And he knew you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. He smirked in your direction, watching the way the skirt of your dress would flounce around your ass as you briskly walked off. He couldn't help but kiss the air again in your direction, like he'd done that day last week, before he made his way to his own class. His mind now filled with a million dirty thoughts, a lot of them about throwing you in a janitor's closet and making a mess of that pretty little flushed face of yours and getting that little dress off you. As much as he'd love to be inside your cunt with it still draped over your every curve.

That night was just a normal Wednesday night, and Steve had no plans. His parents were gone and it wasn't quite the weekend so there was no use trying to throw a party. But he couldn't shake the thought of your pretty dress and the way it swished around your thighs, almost revealing your round, jiggly ass to him as you walked off.

How it hugged against your swollen chest as you huffed down the corridor angrily. He wasn't sure why he found the thought of you walking away all pissed off and embarrassed because he'd been teasing you at school so fucking hot. He smirked to himself, humming a little and feeling a tent in his pants form as he lounged around on the couch in his grey sweats and no shirt, his bare hairy chest fully exposed to the elements.

He palmed at himself a little, thinking back to what he had seen in that alley that day. The way you looked at him, the way you licked your lips, the way your mouth fell open and you made a really pretty noise when Eddie fucked you a certain way, probably hitting your g-spot with the head of his cock. Fuck. He groaned at the thought of that, how your pussy would flutter at having that special spot inside you battered against repeatedly with a thick cock.

Steve was rock solid now. He wanted to push his dick between your wet little lips and face fuck you into next fucking year, make your eyes water and your drool spill down your chin and neck, soaking the collar of whatever you were wearing. Or just your bare tits if he'd got you out of your clothes by that point.

But he can't, cause you're Eddie's. And yeah, maybe that did make him a little jealous, because he wanted to destroy you and leave you more of a mess than Eddie had. More of a mess than you probably had ever been.

Fuck it. He wasn't in the mood to deal with his boner himself, not when he could have someone else's hand wrapped around him at a moment's notice, the perks of being "The King". He pushed himself up off the couch, heading up to his room to find his little notebook of girls phone numbers he kept. You know, the kind that any popular senior high guy would have.

Or maybe it was just Steve. Chicks really digged Steve for some reason. He wasn’t sure if it was the hair, his charm or the fact that he was more than well endowed. Or maybe he just knew a lot of slutty girls. He looked through the book, trying to find someone who was even anything close to you. Although they'd never compare, not in a million years.

Not Tammy, she sounds like a fucking muppet even when she’s having sex, especially when she cums. Steve shuddered at the memory of it. Not Nancy, she's with Jonathan and definitely too much of a goody two shoes to cheat on him, even if he knows that his dick has to be bigger and better than that little rat looking fuckers. He scoffs a laugh as he flips past her name.

He finds a girls name, no last name, just written down hastily as “Claire from Chem class”. He couldn’t remember who that was for a minute, he had to think about it. Wow, was he really that much of a manwhore? He chuckled to himself as he thought of it, coming to the conclusion that he was but he didn't particularly care.

Suddenly his eyes went wide when he remembered that she was the girl who could deepthroat a cock without taking a breath for at least 5 minutes. And she’d let him cum inside her, she did last time. “Shit” he hissed out, rubbing at his erection over his sweats, mulling it over in his head. She did have the same hair colour as you. And the same body shape. So it would make imagining it was you much easier. He picked up his phone and immediately dialled her number, confident in his choice of fuckdoll for tonight. It wasn’t long before she answered the phone eagerly, giving him a sweet little “Hello?”

He smirked to himself, poking his tongue on the inside of his cheek as he lounged back against the headboard of his bed, the cord of the phone stretching over as he lazily stroked a finger up and down the outline of his clothed dick. “Hey babygirl” he said down the phone, turning that charm up to 11 as he heard Claire from Chem Class giggle and say his name down the phone breathily, clearly trying to be sexy. “What are you up to, gorgeous? You wanna come over? I’ve missed you”

It's not long before Claire is at his place, he’s grabbing at her and pulling her close the second she's in through the door, biting his lip at her and sliding his hands up her hips to her waist, pressing her against the wall next to the front door, her hands going to his shoulders and laying there, letting him feel her up as he pleased.

He does notice as she's trying to say hello to him that she’s wearing a nice little blue denim skirt and a white tank top that pushes her tits up nicely, they’re just about as big as yours too and they make him groan at the sight of them, surging forward and sloppily making out with her, all tongue and teeth and spit as she reached down and cupped his bulge. She fucking knew exactly what she was coming here for, the little whore.

The thought makes him stiffen further in his sweats as he moves his hands under her top, cupping at her bare tits, pinching at her stiff nipples a little meanly as she whimpered into his mouth. Fuck, no bra. And suddenly he’s thinking about you again. How you showed Eddie (and him) your tits behind the gym block that day. Completely exposing yourself for any wandering eyes to potentially see.

He fucking practically growled, picking the girl up who he’d basically asked to come over so he could use her like a fleshlight, wrapping her legs around his waist, carrying her upstairs and into his bedroom. He swatted a firm hand down onto her ass and listened to her moan out as he grabbed at it under her skirt, not bothering to close his door behind them. No one was home so it didn’t matter.

He quickly got her to the edge of his bed, stripping her off out of the few pieces of clothes she actually was wearing, tossing her pretty blue lace panties into the corner of his room. Not before he brought them up to his face and inhaled them deeply as she leaned forward and sloppily made out with his neck, flicking his tongue over the small wet patch of her arousal he could see darkening them. She wouldn’t be getting those back, that was safe to say. He’d be adding them to the pile of girls underwear he’d started collecting in the last few months which he’d started doing for… reasons.

God, what he’d give to have a pair of your panties, he doesn’t care what colour they are or if they were sexy or not, he just wanted to have something that had been pressed tightly against your cunt all day, soaked with your sweet wetness, something he could sniff and lick at just like he did a moment ago with Claire Whoever's, something he could wrap around his cock and get himself off with whenever he wanted. Or until it was too covered in his cum and he physically couldn’t use them anymore.

He tossed her onto his bed with a bounce, standing at the side smirking down at her as she looked up at him, licking her lips as her eyes hungrily watched him shuffle his sweats off, his cock springing up against stomach and already leaking a little. It was all because of the thoughts of you he’d been having. And maybe also a little because this Claire girl from chem class was actually pretty hot. He got onto the bed in front of her, spreading her legs and holding them apart for him, studying her shaved wet pussy that was spread open wide for him as he hovered over her.

Steve wasn't fussy about pussy hair or the lack thereof, if there was a hole and a clit for him to bully, he really didn't care about anything else. But yours had a tiny patch of hair, perfectly groomed that sat just above your slit. He wondered what it’d feel like against his tongue if he licked that little patch of hair on your cunt. If he’d be able to taste you from it before he’d even dipped his tongue into you.

He heard her whine a little, grinning down at her like she was his prey, rolling her hips towards him ever so slightly. “Keep your legs open for me just like that babe, yeah?” he said as he slipped a hand between her legs and slid his fingers up and down her already soaked slit, teasing her as he watched her whimper and gasp underneath him, leaning down to kiss and bite at her neck, not particularly caring if he was being too hard or not.

She didn’t say anything anyway, she just moaned out so he assumed she was enjoying it. He quickly remembered she was the type to like being used, maybe a little bit of a pillow princess. He wondered if you’d like that too, if you'd just lay there and let him do whatever the fuck he wanted to you, move you around however he wanted to.

“You gonna suck me off like you did last time, baby? I haven’t forgotten what you can do with that fuckin’ throat of yours” he groaned against her neck, licking over the teeth marks he’d just made in her skin. She nodded her head and placed her hands on his shoulders again, which he swiftly grabbed by each of her wrists and pinned above her head, pulling back to look down at her as he used one big hand to tightly bind her wrists together and push them into the mattress a bit more.

“I asked you a fuckin' question. I expect you to answer me, using your words. Or is that too much for your dumb little brain to handle?” he said through gritted teeth, clenching his jaw a little. Safe to say, Steve definitely liked to be the one in control in the bedroom, he liked overpowering girls, making them bend to his will and obey his every command.

“Y-yes daddy” she whimpered pathetically, and she almost sounded just like how he imagined you would if you said the same thing. He chuckled lowly, his cock twitching at what she’d just called him, leaning down and placing his other hand on her jaw, opening her mouth for him as he licked into it and then spat directly on her tongue, watching as she swallowed before shuffling himself up so he was straddling her chest, still holding her wrists in one hand as he lined up his cock with her mouth.

“Thats what I like to fuckin’ hear, atta girl. Now open wide, don’t keep me fucking waiting." he gritted out, watching as she parted her lips and suddenly thrusting his whole length into her mouth, moaning out as he felt her gag around him at the sudden intrusion, but welcoming him in all the same. He fucked her mouth just like that, closing his eyes and pretending it was your mouth he was fucking into instead, feeling her squirm a little underneath him and listening to all the little whimpers and whines coming from her between chokes and gags. He wasn’t exactly quiet either, moaning and groaning without abandon as he pumped himself harshly into her throat.

"Stay still, slut. I'll just fuck harder if you don't stop, leave your throat all bruised from the inside, that what you want, hm?" She sighed a breath through her nose and whined as he said that, stopping her writhing and just laying there, letting him use her mouth for his own pleasure, spreading her legs wider behind him, exposing her pussy to the cool air of his room. Just like he'd wanted.

He continues on like that for a few minutes, until she slaps her hand back on the pillow a few times to let him know she needs some air, pulling out and moving beside her, taking one of her hands and wrapping it around his cock. He moved it up and down, silently instructing her to stroke him, his hand slipping between her legs again and immediately finding her clit, rubbing harsh circles into it for a moment before sliding his fingers down to her entrance and pushing two of his fingers inside her, hearing her moan out his name, not really close to how he’d imagined you would but it would do.

He latched his mouth onto the nipple closest to him and sucked at the peaked bud, licking and slurping at it harshly. He pumped his fingers in and out of her fast and hard, feeling her pussy clench and flutter around his digits, groaning as he made her cum on his fingers after a few short minutes, listening to her moan loudly, calling her a dirty whore and asking her if she liked being used like this, to which she just whimpered and nodded, fucked out and drooling all over herself already.

Steve was too fucking good sometimes. He could have girls squirting with minimal effort sometimes, and yeah maybe he was a little cocky about it. Even if Steve really was only after his own release, he still made sure they had a good time. Good enough they'd come back begging for more and he could have a healthy collection of all kinds of girls he could take his pick from whenever he fancied it.

Soon after, he’s moving between her legs, grabbing both of her calves and pushing her legs right back, her knees almost touching her shoulders. “Think you’re ready for me now, baby. You want daddy’s cock filling you up nice and deep?” he moaned a little, reaching down to position himself at her entrance, not giving her a chance to respond before he was thrusting inside of her and bottoming out immediately.

He didn’t like to waste time with these girls, which is why he immediately got to thrusting inside her, leaning back on his heels as he held her legs up in the air, open wide for him. He listened as she cried out at the stretch of him, grabbing the pillow behind her tightly and screwing her face up as her mouth hung wide open, her tits bouncing obscenely as his balls slapped against her ass with each pump of his hips.

He imagined it was your gorgeous face. Your pretty round tits. You laying on your back underneath him, spread wide for him as he fucked into you faster and harder, groaning and cursing as he watched you lose your fucking mind beneath him, moaning louder and louder with each thrust. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to get lost in it, lost in the feeling of the girls tight cunt swallowing him up, lost in the fantasy of fucking you behind Eddie’s back.

He just had to break you down a little first, get you to the point you couldn’t resist and would just have to fuck him. He saw how you looked at him, how you licked those lips at him and your gaze stayed on him the whole time your boyfriend was railing you against the wall. Through his thoughts, he distantly heard a voice moan something about how his dick was so big and how she was gonna cum again.

“I know baby, I know, s’so big isn’t it? You’re so fucking tight jesus f-FUCK, you like being fucked like this? Like being used and being my little stupid cockwhore y/n? Bet you fucking do, such a slut fucking me while you're with Eddie” he moaned out loudly, not even realising what he was fucking saying. Suddenly the girl beneath him went quiet, but he continued on, still rutting into her, eyes closed tightly as he moaned at the thought of what you’d say back to him, imagining all sorts of filth coming out of your mouth.

“What did you just fucking say?” That wasn’t your voice.

Shit. He looked down at the girl beneath him who was giving him daggers, still fucking her but slowing down a little as he gave her a confused look, shaking his head and panting. “What? Do you not like being called a slut or something? I thought you liked it last time” He honestly couldn’t remember if she did or not, but he started to realise what he’d just said and was trying to cover his own ass.

“No, not that you fucking- get off me!” she said, sitting up and slapping at his chest, shuffling back from him as his cock slid out of her and he sat back on his heels, holding his hands out in front of himself and shaking his head again.

“What are you talking about then?”

“Who’s name did you just fucking say?”

“Yours?”

“You absolutely did not fucking say my name! You said Eddie Munsons girlfriend's name!” she barked at him, looking at him as her face screwed up angrily, her eyes narrowing in on him. “Were you just thinking about her while you were fucking me?!”

“What? I didn’t say her name! You’re fucking hearing shit, you’re that fucked out your making shit up in your head, come on babe, stop being fucking stupid and I can make you cum again and give you a nice big load of my mine” he tutted, sighing out loudly as he tried to reach forward for her, but she slapped his hands away, getting up off the bed as she looked around for her clothes. He watched her as she did so, seeing the glisten of her arousal leak down her thighs a little that he wanted to lick up with his tongue. Shit. He’d fucked up. But he only cared because his dick was painfully hard at this point and he really needed to cum. He reached down and began tugging at himself lazily, watching as she started putting her top on.

“Yes you fucking did. Stop jerking off, jesus christ. I thought you actually liked me, I thought that's why you’d called me and asked me to come over again!” she yelled at him, her expression a little hurt but mostly still angry as she hurriedly shimmied her skirt up her legs to her hips, toeing on her sneakers.

Steve was done with this shit. He fucking hated when girls assumed that they meant more to him than a quick dirty lay. He scoffed a laugh at her, shaking his head as he leaned back on his bed on an elbow, still jerking himself as he smirked at her and moaned out a little.

“Baby, you’re really gonna try that? You knew I was just calling you for a fuck, I already told you before I didn’t want anything serious with you” he chuckled, stroking the remnants of her slick over the head of his cock as he grinned at her, all teeth and sharklike. “Besides, what if I did say her name, hm? Can’t blame me, she’s a real fucking pretty girl. Got a pretty cunt too”

“Yeah, like you’d know, Eddie'd fucking kill you if you went near her so I know you haven't." Steve just shrugged and smirked at her, continuing to jerk at himself as he watched her roll her eyes and scoff at him. Oh if only she fucking knew. "Don’t fucking call me again, Steve. Lose my fucking number in that stupid little phone book of yours!” she yelled out, he could see tears pooling in the corners of her eyes as she stormed out of his room and down the stairs, hearing the front door slam shut as Claire From Chem Class left.

He knew he should feel bad, he’d clearly hurt her feelings. But he really didn’t. He’d literally just wanted to fuck her, dump his cum inside her or over her tits or something and then kick her out anyway.

He shrugged to himself, getting up and going over to the panties that she’d not even bothered to look for, taking them in his hand as he lay back against his headboard, wrapping them tightly around his cock and biting his lip, bucking up into his fist as he continued his fantasies about you, openly moaning your name and other disgusting things, rather than just thinking them, now that he was alone.

“Mmm.. you wouldn’t storm out if I said another girls name, would you baby? No, you wouldn’t, you'd be too fucking cockdrunk and gone for me.. Too fucked out with me licking your cunt, making you cum as many times as I could before splitting you open with my dick, you'd take it all baby, wouldn't you?.."

"I need to fuck you so bad, I don’t care if you have a boyfriend or if he knows or not, I need to be inside that fuckin’ dripping hole, need to feel it for myself.."

"Maybe you'd let me in your ass too, oh god, bet s'just as perfect as your pussy, you gonna show that to me too honey? Come on, spread those cheeks for me and lemme see, oh fuck.."

It wasn’t soon after that he was spilling out into the blue lace snug around his length and his hand, moaning out your name loudly. And it wasn’t the first time tonight he’d cum thinking about you. He had to throw those panties out with how many times he’d jizzed all over them while he thought about you and fucking every hole of yours available to him.

The next day at school, people were definitely talking. And Steve wasn’t sure why. He watched a few people whisper and look at him before quickly averting their gaze when he made eye contact. What the hell? He looked at them all confused, watching as a couple people walked by him and held their heads down, giggling as they did so. He sighed to himself, thinking that Carol was spreading more shit around the school about him.

He’d fucked her a few times behind Tommy H’s back, she’d said she was gonna leave Tommy for him because she loved him, Steve laughed at her and told her not to bother. She obviously didn’t take that too well and ended up making up some.. quite honestly entertaining and colourful rumours about Steve and the kind of things he was into. He’d set everyone straight when he revealed the real reason she’d been talking shit, Carol trying to deny that anything happened between her and Steve, but it was written all over her face.

Tommy dumped her on the spot and she chased after him, begging and crying for him to forgive her, saying that it didn’t mean anything, which is clearly not what she’d been saying before.

So he thought nothing of it, thinking she’d started up her hate campaign again because Tommy still wouldn’t take her back. The old rumours were quickly squashed by some other girls confirming that he definitely wasn’t into what she'd said he was and definitely didn’t have a piss kink. Okay, maybe the last one was up for debate a little, since he really did like it when he had girls squirting all over his hands, his cock or his face and he wasn’t sure if that was practically the same thing or not. He’d have to look into it to be totally sure.

He made his way over to his locker, not paying any more mind to the people around him, mentally shrugging it off since he really doesn’t care at the end of the day. He’ll still The King. He was practically untouchable, really. If he could deal with Billy Hargrove literally trying to dethrone him the minute he got here, and it still hadn’t happened? Then nothing could. He opened his locker and began shoving some random shit in there from his bag, picking up a calculus book that he knew he needed for class this afternoon so he wouldn’t need to come back later.

“HARRINGTON!” Eddie barked, turning the corner and immediately finding the exact fucking gross pervert he’d been looking for. He looked fucking livid, clenching his fists by his side as he stormed up to him, his big boots stomping along the linoleum.

Steve turned his head as he heard the angry voice calling his name, freezing on the spot. He wasn’t scared of Eddie, even if he did look a little intimidating and there were rumours about him being a Satan worshipper and a cult leader because of that little D&D club he ran. But the way he was coming towards him, looking a bit unhinged like was ready to kill someone, did give Steve a slight cause for concern. Shit, had you told him? Had he finally found out that you’d been making eyes at Steve behind his back while he jerked off and watched Eddie fuck you?

“Munson, what can I do for you? You look a bit.. pissed off, but that's nothing new really is it?” he laughed a little, shutting over his locker. He was about to turn around when he felt a hand grab at the collar of his shirt, dragging him along and into the empty classroom that was right across the hall from his locker.

Okay, maybe he was a little scared now.

Eddie threw him into the room and Steve stumbled a little, turning around to fix his shirt and brush himself off as he looked at the tall metalhead who was slamming the door shut and locking it, turning to face him again and slowly stepping towards the slightly shorter boy. Steve wasn’t scared at all now, he was just fucking annoyed. “What the fuck Munson?! Who the fuck do you think you’re laying your hands on?” he said, stepping closer to him and poking him in the chest as he did so.

“Whats this I just fucking heard about you fucking Claire Quinn last night, but moaning my girls fucking name while you were doing her?” he spat confidently, his jaw clenching tightly as he finished his sentence.

"Oh that was her name. Claire Quinn." Steve chuckled a little meanly. "Just had her down as Claire from Chem Class"

Eddie was well known to be protective and possessive over you. He didn’t like any guy looking at you for a little too long or in a certain way, always pulling you closer to him and giving them death stares. Sometimes it’d get the better of him though and he’d get physical with these guys depending on what they said or did. He’d punched Gareth once for saying that he thought you looked nice today. He soon apologised to him, realising that Gareth was actually just being nice. He'd smacked a cafeteria tray across Jason Carvers face once when he smiled at you. He didn't apologise to him.

The random guy that one time in The Hideout who grabbed your ass and said that your boyfriend didn’t need to know about it if you went home with him (when said boyfriend was stood right behind him as he said it) even after you'd told him you really weren't interested, deserved the broken nose, the missing tooth and both of you being banned from coming back for a month. It was worth missing a few gigs to Eddie, to know he’d successfully protected what was his. You’d ridden him in the back of his van 5 minutes later too, so he knew it’d turned you on and you liked it.

Steve just looked at him, blinking at him for a second before he burst out laughing, walking over to a desk and leaning back against it, folding his arms over his chest as he shook his head. “So that's what everyones been talking about huh?” he laughed quietly again, shrugging his shoulders and smirking at Eddie. “And what if I did?”

“Don’t fucking play with me, Steve. I really do not give a fuck who you are around here, I will knock your fucking teeth out if you even think about my girl again” he stepped right up to him, pointing a finger in his smarmy fucking face. Usually people would retreat by now, as soon as Eddie bared his teeth to them.

But Steve wasn’t. He continued smirking at him, keeping eye contact and Eddie was a little intimidated himself. After all Steve Harrington was the most popular guy in school and Eddie was literally fucking getting all up in his personal space right now. He could have Eddie’s life ruined in a simple trip to see Chief Hopper and a few mentions of the illicit substances that Eddie was well known around school to be in possession of at almost all times.

“You know you won’t” Steve grinned at him, licking across his teeth a little. “Come on, what's so bad about me thinking about your girl? I mean… I’ve already seen you two fucking behind the gym block”

The colour drained from Eddie’s face. Looking at him with wide eyes, blinking as he processed exactly what he’d just said. Fuck. Was he lying? No, he can't be. No one knew you had both been there or what you'd done. How much exactly had he seen? He scoffed, shaking his head and throwing his hands up in the air as he turned his back to him, slowly stepping away as he tried to think of what to do here.

He was even more annoyed now, especially since he knows for a fact that Steve had seen you in one of your most intimate moments with Eddie. But he also knew if he did to him what he did to that dude from The Hideout, he’d be immediately expelled and he would never graduate. He really needed that fucking diploma this year, he’d already had a do over. He absolutely couldn't do another.

Steve knew he had too much on the line to try anything, at least in school. But they didn’t really cross paths outside. Not really even at parties, since he usually made some girl get his weed for him, thinking he’d be able to get a discount if he did so. And just purely because he knew he could get certain girls to do anything for him and it amused him. “I mean, your girl totally enjoyed it. Shoulda seen the way she was looking at me, licking her lips and shit while I jerked off, she came quite a lot didn’t she? She ever squirted like that with you before? Nice puddle left behind, I'd have got on my knees and fucking drank it from her cunt if I coulda” he laughed, deciding he wanted to poke the bear a little

That was it. Eddie's vision went completely red, he was suddenly like a bull and Steve was the matador.

He turned around and charged towards him, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and slamming his back up against the nearest wall, punching him quickly and getting right into his face, almost touching as Steve laughs in his face with his eyes screwed shut, his nose aching from the ring clad fist that just smacked into it. “Don’t you fucking dare say that shit about her. She’d never do that shit. I fucking know my girl and she’s not fucking like that” he growled at him through gritted teeth, watching as Steve lifted a finger up, swiping the tiny amount of blood dripping from his nostril now and continued laughing in his face.

“I’m serious, ask her. She sat there and watched me and she didn’t say shit to you the whole time, she was fucking loving it to making all those noises for both of us” he said, still chuckling a little as he saw Eddie rear up to punch him again. Okay, time to try and deescalate a bit, he was really pushing his buttons and maybe going a little too far here. “Ask her! Just ask her first before you beat my ass, fuck dude" he laughed loudly again, watching as Eddie leaned back a bit, still keeping him pinned to the wall but lowering his other fist. “I know I'm laughing but I'm deadly serious, you need to ask her about it”

Eddie was still raging inside. But as he thought about it, now he was a little angry at you too, not just Steve. Why hadn’t you said anything to him? You had been the one who was so scared about someone catching you that day. So why hadn’t you said a fucking word to him when Steve had inevitably seen you both? He was a tiny bit hurt too, that you willingly let someone watch you both having sex. Especially Steve Harrington, one of the most attractive guys in school, probably in Hawkins actually. Even Eddie thought so, despite the fact he’d absolutely never admit to it.

He stepped back a bit more, letting go of Steve's shirt as he sighed and rubbed his hand over his face, trying to think of exactly how he was going to ask you about this. Trying to decide how he was going to deal with him, now he didn’t know if he actually had a good reason to be violent like he wanted to be.

“What’s it gonna take for you to leave my girlfriend alone and not look at her or.. Or even think about her anymore?” he asked, rubbing at his stubbly chin and finally looking at the annoyingly handsome brown haired boy who was currently trying to fix himself up a little.

Steve scoffed, shaking his head as he fished out a tissue from his bag. “You’re not gonna fucking like what my honest answer would be to that question, Munson. And I’m not exactly thrilled at the possibility of another knuckle sandwich” he chuckled slightly, finally finding a hanky and wiping his nose with it, shoving it back in his bag and ruffling his hand through his hair.

“Just fucking say it, I really don’t fucking care, you’ve already said enough” Eddie sighed a little defeatedly, shaking his head as he turned his gaze to look out the window, crossing his arms over his chest. He was honestly still trying to process what Steve had just told him.

He really couldn’t get over the thought of you just letting someone perv on the two of you and get off to it, encouraging it. And he was also slightly confused about the fact that he thinks he would have found it hot having someone watch, if you had told him at the time. It made his blood boil and his dick twitch all at the same time. This was definitely something he’d have to unpack later on.

Steve studied him as he leaned back on the desk again, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets, crossing his ankles over one another. He thought about it for a second, whether to actually say it or not. He absolutely didn’t need to think about what he wanted to do to you, what it would take. He’d been thinking about that for a whole fucking week now already since he first saw you both. And he’d always fantasised about you anyway, since he’d never even had a chance to get into your panties.

You’d been inseparable from Eddie since pretty much the first week you’d moved to Hawkins, even if you’d only been friends for a few months before you got together. Eddie had made sure of it that no one even got a look in, since he’d fallen in love with you the moment he saw you.

“I wanna fuck her. That's what it'd take. Just once, and then I’ll leave you both alone. If I happen to catch you guys getting it on again, I’ll walk away. It’ll probably make me stop thinking about her too, it’ll be out of my system or something” He fucking wouldn’t stop thinking about you, he never would. You were literally the one thing he couldn’t ever have and that made you even more desirable to him. And Steve wasn’t one to give up without a bit of a fight to get what he wanted. At least if he got to fuck you, he’d be able to dig up the memories while he jerked off or fucked some other girl.

Eddies head snapped round at him as soon as he said he wanted to fuck you, staring at him in complete fucking disbelief. He burst out laughing and shook his head. “Not a fucking chance in hell, Harrington. You can get that idea so fucking far out of your head” he chuckled, staring the boy down as he licked across his teeth and clenched his jaw again. Who the fuck did this asshole think he was? He’d just punched him in the face for saying shit about you, did he seriously think he’d just give you to him, like he was loaning him a guitar or something, and let him rail you?

Steve shrugged, looking down at his shoes as he toed a scuff mark off the side of one of them. “Then at least let me watch again” he said matter of factly, shrugging as he smirked and looked back at Eddie. “One last time, then I swear I won’t bother the lovely couple ever again” he chuckled, rolling his eyes at how ridiculous that sounded.

Eddie stared at him, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he mulled it over. He really fucking didn’t want to let him watch. He didn't want him to see you as you fell apart under Eddie's touch again. But he also kinda really did? Besides, it would be a one off thing. And it’d keep Steve away from you. If you’d really already let him watch before, then he’d already seen everything…

“Okay, fine,” Eddie said quietly, throwing his hands in the air in surrender. “One fucking time. But I swear to god Harrington…” he stalked towards him, pointing a long thick finger at him. Steve wonders if he got close enough if he’d be able to smell you off of his fingers still, from the last time they’d been plunged inside you. “If I even so much as hear a single fucking thing of you saying her name again or talking about her or.. Or.. you even so much as breathing near her.. I’ll do worse than punch you in that big fuckin' nose again"

Steve smirked at him, keeping eye contact as he narrowed his slightly, licking at his lips slowly and not missing the way the tall metalheads eyes linger on them for a second too long. He felt his cock kick up in his jeans at the mere suggestion of seeing you exposed to him again. He’d have to go deal with that before class. He's sure he has a Polaroid or two of Pam in his bag that he stole from her bedroom the last time he fucked her that he could use as quick spank material.

“Deal.” he said, grabbing hold of Eddie's hand and shaking it, startling the long haired boy slightly. “Just let me know where and when, Munson. If that's all and we’re done here..” Steve said, grinning at him as he leaned down and picked up his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder as he patted the metalhead on his own a little patronisingly, making his way over to the door and leaving the room, heading down the hallway to get rid of the now uncomfortable bulge he was packing in his pants.

He had a smug fucking smile on his face the whole way to bathroom, thinking of how he would soon see your perfect body again.

Hopefully you'd love his eyes on you while you're spread out and being made to cum as much as you did last time.

I'd like to thank @elvendria @changemunson and @emsgoodthinkin for their help and encouragement on this chapter. I really REALLY could not have done it without you all, especially Elvendria who had to sit and listen to me have a fucking Menty B over a discord call because of some stuff that's now gonna be in part 3 lmfao.

Banner by me, dividers by @saradika

Taglist: @aol19 @thewillowsareskipping @htycp890 @sllooney @justmeinadaze @inesven @tlclick73 @munsonslure @madaboutjoe @falling-throughthe-hourglass @hazzaismyreligion @jjmaybankswifes-blog @lilianraynne @moonflower1387 @eddiesguitarskills @ancientcrone-blog @dovakinbruh @sameyessblue @love-me-satoru @peach97 @org12 @fireflyislands @5tud10-54r4h @kennzie @myfavoritesareproblematic @emsgoodthinkin @lunakitty2608 @hideoutside @thegothicfox @kelseyms-world @bandaids-n-porcelain

#eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #perv!steve harrington #peeping tom #steddie x reader #steddie x you #steve harrington #steddie smut #steve harrington stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie smut #part 2 #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington fanfic #steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #perv!steve #eddie munson is not dead #smut fic #smut fanfiction #smut fanfic

[nibbelraz]

I thought about something the other day which I nearly wrote but I don't have the patience for- what if Mobei had a sudden epithany while snooping qinghua's house? cause obv hes gonna snoop. sqh is mad sus, and mobei has trust issues with his trust issues. but it suddenly occurs to him that the bed that he constantly steals from his little human is very much rather. luxurious. The mattress is thick and expensive, and sqh rotates and flips it frequently so it doesnt get lumpy. it has a topper(1)

(2) with cooling talismans all over it to make it a good temp for mobei any time he decides to sleep in it. the sheets are silk, soft, and light. they're in his colours. his shades. it's a huge bed- long enough for mobei to lay down fully stretched out and still have room. theres countless pillows made of whatever is best for mobei's hair. they're piled up and spread out in a decadance fit for royalty. its always clean. it always smells like him. hes never seen qinghua in it once.

(3) and surely, he must use it, right? it's still his bed, no matter how mobei frames it. But he knows what sqh smells like, and that scent has never been anywhere but in the fleeting touch of someone who changed the sheets. there's never been a lingering warmth from his humans body on the mattress. its the most luxurious, extravagant, expensive thing sqh owns. its not his. looking around the bedroom- is this his either? can he see anything that he might say with confidence is the cultivators?

(4) the answer is no. There's peak lord things in here, yes, but by the nature of being a spy, that's mobeis as well. So he looks- where does sqh sleep, if not a bed that (should? could?) be his own. The answer appears to be a cheap, small little daybed. It's uncomfortable. Mobei knows how big his human is, and this wouldn't fit him well. It's made well enough, but next to the actual bed in the room? It's a grade up from the floor. If Mobei laid on it he'd be off of it by his hips.

(5) honestly its not even good as a chair. It's uneven and kinda lumpy. There's a vague pillow- flat and showing signs of being folded often. A blanket that looks more like a repurposed curtain. It it bad so sqh doesn't lose it to mobei's wants? or worse, is it what he feels like he deserves? He already knew qinghua wasn't one to spend on himself but, he didn't think it was a possible fear of having it stolen from him. Does he have anything of his own worth having at all? Mobei doesn't know.

(6) anyway this obv leads into a comedy of errors where mobei is like. "qinghua. get into bed." and the man positively bluescreens because ??? literally how is he supposed to take that. and when he sorta makes a movement to just lay down on the day bed mobei is like. do you even fucking have any night clothes or do you just sleep like that. get night clothes. get into my bed. you're being cringe. my king with all respect due; crack? is it crack that you smoke? ))

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

He wants QINGHUA TO BE COMFY AND SLEEP GOOD IN A PROPER BED WITH PROPER CLOTHES AND WARM BLANKETS

Knowing them both it really would take Mobei an extremely long time to figure out that wait a minute, Qinghua doesn't sleep here at all?? Especially realizing the bed doesnt even smell like him, but the thought of him trying to fix that is so cute

I can also see him just picking Qinghua up throwing him into bed, Wrapping him up in furs and blankets and then tugging him to his chest

Yes he's comfortable now

ALSO QINGHUA BEING SO CONFUSED BECAUSE HE JUST UP AND DOES THIS WITHOUT ANY WARNING NOT EVEN SAYING ANYTHING

Ah I love how Mobei shows his love by trying to take care of his scared sweaty human

#svsss #shang qinghua #mobei jun #moshang #him thinking Qinghua doesnt properly own anything because he fears losing it could also lead to a bunch of gift giving #with Mobei stating that its Qinghuas and thay no one else would be able to take it from from him king will MAKE SURE OF THAT #and Shang Qinghua is just shaking cause he thinks its a threat to him but no jes showing that you dont have to WORRY ABOUT ANYTHING BEING #sTOLEN #I wonder if Mobei either stops using Qinghuas stuff to show that to him or shares more of his things to get him to use more stuff #anyways i love this idea SO MUCH #long post #ask #nib text

[waldau]

hello!! big fan here! i think you’re super talented and cool 🫶🏼 can i perhaps request a friends to lovers thing for vernon? do you think he’d be the first one to break and confess or would it be you? if it’s the latter, how does he react? any thoughts on this would be fine really, even if you don’t want to make it into a full fledged story. just love talking about and thinking about vernon.

darling anon i think you broke my brain because i've never written so much in a single day (also thank you so much!!! <3). i love vernon and i've kind of been in a vernon spiral myself recently. i hope you like this :)

chroma — chwe hansol | 2,520 words | fluff

chroma (noun) — the purity of a colour, or its freedom from white or grey. reader and vernon are best friends who SCREAM become lovers. briefly ft dokyeom.

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

at first glance, you and vernon are opposites.

not exactly grumpy and sunshine opposites, but if you're both the same colour, you're a shade or two brighter than him. which means that you're similar with different energy levels, and honestly? you love your dynamic.

your friends notice that outside of the group, you're the one he's the closest to — so it only makes sense that he's also the one you're the closest to.

he's always near you whenever you're hanging out with your friends — whether you're sitting right next to each other or across the room, he meets your eyes from time to time, if only to check in on you, or to allude to an inside joke when someone speaks.

(you have way too many inside jokes; an unhealthy amount, even.)

he always makes it a point to drop you home. always. unless your other friends are around, in which case he won't rest till you send him a text saying you got home safely. or you crash at each other's places for the night if you're too tired.

you always look forward to whenever he gets random bursts of energy and proceeds to tell you about stuff he finds interesting. but you also use him as a pillow when he becomes extremely quiet, and honestly? it's pretty easy to co-exist with vernon regardless of the silence or the lack of it, because you always match his energy.

he sends you pictures of whatever he thinks you'll like, whether it's a meme or a sunset, but sometimes he sends you stuff he likes — like a cool monument he saw in new york or his cat or a picture of two snails on the side of the road with the caption "us?"

seriously, opening his texts is like a wild card (in a good way).

he always makes it a point to drop you home. always. unless your other friends are around, in which case he won't rest till you send him a text saying you got home safely.

you're slightly more affectionate than him, which is something he doesn't mind.

he's not the first to initiate hugs, but you can trust that he's always going to find your hand for a high five or a fist bump or a quick side hug.

if you're sitting together on the couch listening to music or watching something on the television, he lets you loop your arm through his like it's something you do every day (which it most definitely is).

vernon wasn't very physical in the beginning of your friendship, but now you're used to a light brush of his hand against yours, your shoulders bumping for a second or two, a poke to your cheek — just your things.

now the thing is this: you have a crush on vernon. a huge crush that doesn't seem to be going away any time soon.

"i knew it!" dokyeom says shrilly, and you wince. you love him, but you're not sure if he's capable of keeping your secret.

"was it that obvious?"

"of course it was! i've seen the way you look at him. like he's the funniest guy in the room, even if he's not. or like he's the hottest guy in the room. which he—"

"—is," you finish, and bite your tongue. dokyeom doesn't need to know exactly how in deep you are.

dokyeom shakes his head. "i can't believe he doesn't know."

"kyeom, if you tell him, i swear—"

"i won't! i kind of want to see how long it takes for him to realize."

"i don't think he will," you say, looking over to where vernon is sitting on the couch and arguing with seungkwan and seungcheol about the best movie from 2008.

"how do you know that?"

you shrug. "i've tried dropping subtle hints. he's just...oblivious."

dokyeom follows your gaze and sighs. "he really is. but if you ask me," he says, turning to raise an eyebrow. "this really could go somewhere."

every year, you spend valentine's day together.

it started as a joke the first time — vernon's date somehow cancelled on him at the last moment, and he showed up to your place with a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates.

you thought your heart was going to fall out of your body, but he sheepishly explained he didn't know where else to go, or who else to give them to.

it turned into a rant about how he didn't believe in or care about the holiday anymore.

but now it's your tradition to enjoy each other's company rolling your eyes and booing at cheesy movies.

(you wish they'd come to life, specifically with vernon, but he doesn't have to know.)

he isn't the best at comforting you with words. you learned that a long time ago and know it well even now. yet he's the first person you turn to when something's wrong.

you're wrapped in a blanket on vernon's sofa, a hot mug of cocoa in front of you next to a bowl of snacks, but your mind isn't on any of them. why, you think. why, why, why me. you feel terrible for the space you're occupying, even though you've curled up into a ball.

"hey," vernon says from above you, and the next thing you know, you're pulled into him. "i don't know what to say to make it better, and...i don't know what else i can do, but tell me, okay?"

you nod.

"i'm sorry."

you stop crying at that, trying to blink away your tears but failing. "why?"

"he was a dick, and you never deserved someone so shitty."

you try to inhale, but it's shaky. "i'm just...so tired," you say, resting your head on his shoulder. "i don't know why i keep attracting idiots like him. and i hate that you always have to see me like this."

"like this?"

"in pieces. crying. whatever."

"you're not in pieces," vernon says, running his hand over your back. "you're sad. it happens. and i don't mind being here, okay? i'm always here. sorry."

you snort. "you've apologized more to me than he's ever done at this point."

"now you know who to keep around longer," vernon smiles.

you wonder if vernon's aware of the things he does. he talks to you like there's no one else he'd rather be with at the moment. he bends down to meet your eyes when you're talking about something, and you're amazed he hasn't noticed you short-circuiting in the middle of your sentences more than a few times now. he finds the most random things to give you every now and then.

"huh?"

"pebble. reminded me of pou."

"pou? vernon, that was so long ago!"

"do you want me to skip this rock?"

"no, wait—"

fights with him aren't really fights, because one of you always caves in and has to make up.

"your neck's going to hurt," you hear vernon say softly, probably trying not to wake you up. but you weren't really asleep in the first place.

"why do you care?" you grumble, sitting up straight and wincing when your neck does, in fact, hurt.

"i don't hate you just because we had a fight," he says, pulling you down to rest your head on his chest. "sore necks suck."

you chew on your cheek for a while, not wanting to say the words you know are inevitable. "fighting with you sucks, too."

he says nothing; just hugs you tighter.

you're surprised at how well you've adapted to vernon going out on dates.

it wasn't easy, you'll admit. at first it felt like your heart was being ripped out of your chest while also being crushed, but now it's okay (maybe because he hasn't been dating as much recently — you can't remember the last one he even went on).

you're nothing if not a supportive best friend, so you're okay with the few times his dates go well enough to tell you about.

you teasingly tell him not to give you too many details, but you wonder if he knows why you really ask that of him.

both of you act like a married couple, according to your friends. it made you blush at first, but there's no point reacting to it anymore because it's just not true. vernon doesn't like you the way you like him, and the way you're affectionate with each other is...hard to explain. just friends, you say, even though you wish you were more.

"you're dishgushting," dokyeom says, mouth stuffed full of pizza while he pours himself some coke.

you give him a look. "you or me?"

dokyeom nods, chewing aggressively before swallowing his bite. "you. and vernon. can't stop giving each other those eyes all the time. makes me sick."

"...eyes?"

"like you need a room or something. like there's no one else in here with you guys."

"we don't do that, kyeom."

he snorts inelegantly. "ask anyone. you're lucky jeonghan hasn't snitched on you yet."

and maybe, just maybe, vernon treats you somewhat differently than he treats his friends.

you always get the first bite of his food, always listen to new vinyls he gets on the weekends, sprawled out on the floor and letting the music seep into your skin, always get to steal his hoodies whenever you're cold — you can't think of any other friend of his who gets the same treatment.

but that's just best friend privilege.

at least that's what you tell yourself.

after vernon comes back from his latest tour, he becomes more touchy with you — resting a hand on your thigh, tracing the shell of your ear, linking pinkies with you.

maybe it's just his way of reconnecting with you after being away for so long.

but doesn't he realize what he's doing to your heart?

probably not, you think, when he wraps his arms around your waist one morning when you're in front of his vinyl collection, trying to pick something you think you'll like.

"sol?" you ask, patting his hands before resuming browsing through his shelf.

"hey."

"what's up?"

"tired."

"shouldn't you be in bed, then?"

"you weren't there."

you pause, the magdalene vinyl in your hand threatening to fall before you place it back. "i'm never there."

"wanna change that?"

"what?"

"what."

you think it's some silly pick-up line he's trying to test on you, so you gently push him back to his bedroom, threatening to leave his home if he doesn't sleep for a few more hours.

but it doesn't end there.

those pick-up lines pop up in the most unexpected places, with the most unexpected company. you shake your head and laugh them off, but you wonder why he's behaving like this.

there's one possible explanation for it, but you're not going to let yourself walk down that path. not unless he does it first.

vernon's quiet on the walk back to your car from the supermarket, half your groceries with you and the other half with him. he doesn't say anything when you point out his shoelace is untied, or his hair is sticking up a bit weirdly for his liking, or even the fact that there's a cat sitting right next to your car before it skitters away a few seconds later.

you're not worried. vernon does have those moments where he zones out so hard no one can get him back for a while, and this seems to be one of them.

"i love you," he finally says.

your hand fumbles with the grip of your bag. not cool, not when there's a couple of glass jars in there. there's going to be nothing cute to put the cookies in if you break them now.

"i love you too?" you offer, because it's not uncommon for you to say it to each other. it's just that vernon's never brought it up unprompted before.

"no. not how you think."

not how you think? how...

oh.

you can only stare at vernon, mind running a million miles an hour while he refuses to look at you, suddenly finding interest in that untied shoelace.

"love me love me?"

he nods, almost imperceptible if you weren't looking for it. it gives you a sudden boost of courage, of happiness, of everything good. you weren't wrong, after all. you put the rest of the groceries in the trunk and turn to face him.

you've seen this sight hundreds of times before — vernon with his messy hair, in this very hoodie with jam stains on the left sleeve, and those brown eyes that light up from the inside when the sun hits them just the right way and make him look like the most handsome man in the world — but it's like you've been seeing the world, even vernon, in monochrome till he said those words.

chroma.

"oi," you say, grabbing his face in your hands. "sol."

he just blinks.

"are you sure? absolutely sure?"

"yeah," he says, voice a bit rougher than usual, and you see yourself in his eyes for a moment. "i am. but i'm sor—"

you shut him up with a quick peck to his lips, uncaring of who might be seeing you right now. you know you're going to be embarrassed about it, squeal about it to dokyeom, bury your face in your pillow and question if any of it was real, but right now, it doesn't matter.

you've shocked vernon, for once. it feels good. he's staring at you with his mouth open, hands clutching your wrists like there's no tomorrow.

"you're not the only one," you explain, all bravado fizzling out when his full focus lands only on you.

"oh? yeah?" he asks, pulling you closer.

"mm."

he rubs his thumb across one of your wrists. "do you have eggs?"

"...what?" back to regularly scheduled programming, then. trust vernon not to make it weird.

"eggs. or ice cream. anything that needs the fridge. because i want to take you out on a date right now."

some things change: vernon becomes your boyfriend. you move in together a few months later. it's not the first time you've met his mother, but you're still nervous.

but the best thing of all is that he's yours now.

he even tells you how he realized he loved you back.

"i just...remembered you arguing with me about whether penne or fusilli was better, and my only thought was, i want this with you. for however long i could have it. i think i just loved you for so long, but...i didn't realize it was that love. i finally understood why kyeom-hyung kept telling me to get my shit together."

"sol—"

"no one knows me like you do and i don't want anyone else to. yeah."

"sol, babe, i was just asking if you want me to take out the trash."

"you...oh," he says, grinning in that shy way he does. "thought you asked me if i wanted you. but hey, if i'm trash for you, you're legally obligated to take me out, right?"

i've never put pictures before but he's SO boyfriend material, look at him

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi

#yo i didn't ramble i just threw up a large volume of words i REALLY hope you like this #like WHAT is this. even i'm shocked #BUT i love writing 'oh' moments. peak writing idc idc #also there are two wolves inside you: WOULD he fucking say that and he would NOT fucking say that #guess i just love him too much :) #chwe hansol #chwe hansol fluff #vernon #vernon fluff #fluff #seventeen #seventeen fluff #svt #svt fluff #waldau writes #req

[cochineal-leviat]

Sweet Dreams, Stardust

Okay, so I have a lot of feelings about In Stars and Time. But let me say first, wow, this game irreversibly changed my brain network. For anyone who is considering buying this game, please do. I don't think I've had a story touch my heart and mind like this for a long time. And that goes without mentioning the stunning visuals and entertaining battle system. (Be careful, though, because this game handles heavy topics regarding mental health)

If you're still hung up on buying it but are curious, there is a free demo on Steam if you like to try.

Thank you, @insertdisc5, for this gem of a game. I will be turning it around in my head like a microwaveable gourmet meal for months to come.

Technically the illustration has no spoilers (unless you count Siffrin having a good nap as a spoiler). But I will be going into heavy spoiler territory under the keep reading since I need to get my thoughts on this game off my chest.

And a monochrome version because you know me, I can't help myself. Even in black and white art pieces, I will put in some colour.

And a very tiny Loop

Initially, I was going to do a piece with a theatre stage and the cast (Siffrin, Mirabelle, Isabeau, Odile, Bonnie and the head house maiden) taking a bow and finally leaving the spectacle to a life not controlled by a script and Wish Craft. But it was more fitting to put my feelings into creating a peaceful scene. Like, oof, I needed this very badly. I used sepia to make the painting warmer and added some more details like headcanons. The stars/colours might be remnants of Siffrin's transformation. Or maybe they were always there, but he never paid attention to it. Who knows.

I'm going to keep this brief. Otherwise, this post will take way too long.

I adore Siff's character. It's perfect for a game and narrative such as this. I saw a post not long ago on Tumblr going into depth about how their role as the rogue and not the hero works so well, so I won't linger on it for long. But how they would rather listen and fade into the background perfectly aligns with the player's experience of being the silent observer. (And the nodding off that changes into zoning out. It took me way too long to realise that small but essential narrative change) Oh, and the portrait change! It flew over my head until I was staring at the game menu. I was so confident Siffrin had a mischievous grin and not a frown. I always feel slightly surprised when the party asks for Siff's opinion or mentions that they have been too quiet. I felt Siffrin's excitement like my own when he got excited at finding clues to end the nightmare they were in. So I knew it would end up falling on their face because they were too excited. I just had this bad gut feeling the whole time during Act 4.

And oh boy, speaking off acts. I thought it would have been the standard 3. Boy, I was wrong. Whenever I felt I was nearing the end, I was thrown back at the start with more mysteries than answers. It made exploring the game intriguing since there is almost no information about it online (at the time of writing this post). There is the Discord, but I didn't know about it until I finished it.

This game has a lot of secrets, and I had a lot of fun uncovering them. The looping mechanic works so well in discovering little details and further leads. (even though my stubborn arse kept trying to do everything in the least amount of loops as possible. I thought the ending would be different if I exceeded a 100. My final number is 59. I am still not sure if I should be mad about it not being a rounded number like 60 or that I went over the 50 threshold)

However, it is a good thing that only some mysteries were solved. Like, what's up with colours in this world? Everyone sees in black and white, and the idea of shades and colours is only spoken of in scientific studies. They do exist and are not a part of the disaster that happened to Siffrin and their land. But there is definitely something mysterious about it. I adore how the dialogue reflects this, as the characters do not speak of shades or colours. Isabeau expresses surprise to see a streak of red colouring the sky in Act 6. It makes you think about how colour is perceived and how you describe it. (The lore inside this game is immaculate. I eat this shit up)

We never find out the name of the country north of Vanguard or what it was like. We can only infer that the beaches had black sand, with shells that shine like stars, high-reaching mountains, forests and plains. Which is vague and yet intriguing enough to make you wonder. It connected me to Siff and King because I also wanted to know. I was desperate to know. I needed to know. But in the end, we never will know because that is not the story's point. Siffrin even says in the game, that King should let go because he is hurting everyone and everything, including himself, in his desperation to preserve Vanguard. This is all the more ironic when Siff accidentally does the same with his family and the loops. I might gush more about what the country might be like and their technology in another post. This game makes me want to theorise. This is the first time I've wanted to write and post theories. ISAT fucked me up good.

Which, by the way, was genius. Siffrin and King are mirrors of each other. Siff does not have King's disastrous ambition, but their love/obsession will be the downfall of both of them. They have more than being each other's countrymen in common, and I imagine Siff despises that.

I love the fact King's question to Siffrin before the showdown was/could never be answered. Usually, in a game such as this, you must figure out how to solve everything, especially for the big bad. But that was never the goal. King is a delusional monster who will not stop before achieving his dream. He will raze everything to the ground and hurt many people because he must succeed. It is what he desires. Nay, the universe wills it. What a witless excuse that can easily be made into someone's truth. Especially to somebody who is driven mad with grief.

How King's character's done is so excellent. Because, at first, I wasn't scared of him at all. He was just the big bad, and I felt nothing much but the glory of victory when Siffrin outsmarted him by looping and making sure Mirabelle learned the shield spell that would protect the party from freezing in time. But each time you fight him, you get more frustrated until Siff figures that talking to him might be fruitful. It does, but unfortunately, you and Siffrin leave yourself emotionally and mentally vulnerable. King stops being a one-dimensional villain and changes into an actual person. Someone you can sympathise with and possibly mend peace with without fighting. You and Siffrin opened his heart for a kindred spirit and got hurt.

King stopped being a monster and became human. And while monsters are wretched, humans have intent behind their cruelty. I felt so betrayed, so angry, but most of all - terrified. I felt it when Siffrin spiralled when fighting King again after their actions caused such a catastrophic turn of events for Bonnie. Every time after that, the fight with King felt tense and nerve-wracking in a dreadful way. Because even victory could not soothe the dread I felt. (The track 'It's finally over" will forever haunt me. I already feel anxious whenever it cycles to that when I listen to the playlist)

He was not, however, the final villain, even though everything that happened was King's fault. You were always your greatest enemy (or Siffrin in this case, since you are supposed to be Siffrin). I never could have guessed that the whole reason why Siffrin could not escape the loops was because Siff accidentally wished to never let go of their friends. This reminds me of Modaka Magica, where (spoilers for the OG anime) Homura goes back in time so much that the universe ties itself around Modoka, making her a waiting egg whose wish and magic will be massive when she becomes a magical girl. The one thing Homura was trying to prevent.

(Siffrin and Homura are identical in that sense. Shy characters who are loyal to a fault but are rendered into something cold, bitter and cutting by their traumatic experiences. Only Siff has people who care about them and would do anything to save him, too, whereas Homura never lets go, making the world a worse place to live in. Yes, I did go into doomed Yuri. That anime lived in my mind rent-free in my mind for years)

The Head House-maiden not being the villain was also a great touch. I am used to the apparent antagonist turning out not to be the big bad and the trusted, friendly character ending up being the evil one. Twist villains no longer work when everyone expects them to be villains.

That was my biggest theory as I played. The second biggest being that Loop is someone who enjoys Siffrin's suffering. I am so glad that was also not the case. They are apathetic but not cruel. Never intentionally, anyway. They were like the player, urging Siffrin to go deeper into the mystery to solve it. Ultimately, I chose and made cold and cruel decisions simply because I wanted to see what would happen. So yeah, I warmed up to this cosmic star thing as the game went on and even started trusting them. Act 5 really is a punch in the gut. I am so sorry, Loop. Thank you for coming through in the end.

Oh man, this is so long, and I haven't even gone into the main cast. I will leave that for another post. They are such great characters, as are the people of Dormant and the House. (Don't think I don't see the wordplay in this game. Very clever)

Going into this game completely blind was the best experience I could have had. I felt anxious, happy and scared so severely that my neurons were rearranged. I don't know if there are more endings (aside from the obvious action of attacking Odile in the True(?) ending of the game), but I am taking a break from it to make art and write for this game before I dive back into despair-o-land.

Anywho, thank you for coming this far and reading my ramblings. Have a fantastic day or evening further! o(*'▽`*)ブ

#in stars and time #isat #siffrin #isat siffrin #isat isabeau #isabeau #isat odile #odile #mirabelle #isat mirabelle #Bonnie #isat bonnie #isat loop #I love this game so much #and the charachters #I want to do an essay on their designs #and even some theory posts #I never had this happen before to me #long post #nothing to see here but me singing praises for this lovely game #isat spoilers #you're safe though as long as you do not go under keep reading #do Siffrin and Isabeau have a shipname yet because there is little of it in the drawing #Siffrin x Isabeau #heh fuck it #isat fanart #my art

[drconstellation]

The Assistant Book Seller

Edit 1 Dec 2023 - added missing information on the "ribbon pattern."

Edit: 3 Dec 2023 - correct information about middle pattern from creator

GABRIEL: Greetings! I'm Jim! It's short for James, but I don't need to keep telling everyone that. I'm an assistant book seller.

I'm sorry. Before I do anything else, I need to apologize for something I need to write further in. I didn't plan to write it, I just kind of bumped into it and, well, I can't ignore it. So...sorry. It's said. Forgive me for what needs to be done.

Although he arrived with nothing but a cardboard box and Rodney the Stunt Fly, Aziraphale made sure Jim was clothed in appropriate raiment while under his protection. We'll forgive him that he took a step back about, oh, fifty years or so to the 1970's, as Jim's overall look is a nod to the famous old sitcom "Open All Hours." So if he looks a little bit out of place, or, a little bit familiar, even, that's why.

While we are used to seeing angels in overcoats, it's Jim's vest that is the particular feature here. But I will take a moment to comment on the overcoat - not just the colour but its lapels. Aziraphale has obviously given him a colour with an earthly connection and one that indicate that he has bought Jim under his protection, but the lapels look quite neutral, with one up and one down. (Muriel is the same in their Inspector uniform, btw) This is the first indication they are between two things at the moment.

Onto the vest.

There is so, so much work and thought put into this vest! It was a one-off commission for the show, and the creator, Sandy Higgins, has said she is not allowed to give away the final design pattern. I have tried to contact her, and I'm waiting for a reply, so in the mean time I thought I would ask my keen knitter of a sister-in-law about one of the patterns I'm not sure about. "Well, that's Fair Isle knitting," she said, but she knew nothing about the individual line pattern I was interested in. Hmm, I kind of know that already, its in the notes that are guiding me for this meta, but hey, why not do a broader search and see what comes up?

So once I got back home I did. "Fair Isle knitting patterns" hmm...Wikipedia page for starters...what on *earth* is that at the bottom of the page...? YOU ARE. FRIKKING. KIDDING ME!!!!!!!

"See also: Gumbys"

oh ffs

I am so sorry that needs must make me mention Monty Python yet again, but here we are. And we must mention them, because this link is just too...unbelievably, deliciously good.

If you aren't familiar with the Monty Python catalogue, and don't recognize the mention of Gumbys, they were a set of characters that dressed and spoke in a certain way but the main points to take away were they wore woolen vests in the Fair Isle knitted style and their catch-phrase was - wait for it - "My brain hurts!"

I think we've heard that somewhere before?

CROWLEY: When you first arrived, you said you were here because they were planning to do 'Something Terrible' to you. So you remembered it then. Remember it now. GABRIEL: It hurts to remember. My head isn't built for that.

Right. Now we've got that out of the way...back to the serious stuff.

The colours used in the vest are not your typical angel colours. There is a base of angelic off-white and there are some bits of purple for his royalty around the shoulder area - sometimes you need to look carefully for it. Otherwise it is dominated by vintage shades of red and green. Well. Who's an agent of change driven by love, then?

The horizontal stripe pattern is partly to remind us of the classic biblical robes with stripes that ran along them, much like the style of Crowley's black and red robe in the Job minisode, but is also part of the traditional Fair Isles pattern work. And each row only has two colours, but up around the shoulder area we do see purple start to sneak in as a third colour.

On to the incorporated symbols! I'm going to go from bottom to top.

On the lowest two we feature Crowley and Aziraphale. We have Crowley's demon satyr tail from the Good Omens logo on the lowest stripe - the double-headed arrow.

The next stripe is Aziraphale, with a variation of the classic OXO pattern ("hugs and kisses.") The X is meant to represent his angel wings, and the O is modified to mimic the "o" with a halo in the Good Omens logo. I've highlighted all three in the image on the right.

The third row up is a Sumerian Star pattern that represents one of the flowers associated with Gabriel, the lily. They are supposed to represent the purity of Mary, mother of Jesus, as he had one in his hand when he visited her during the Annunciation.

The row above that is what I believe to be a Byzantium pattern, and is included to show "an Angel's ability to be timeless."

The next three rows are still under a bit of a question mark as I write this. I plan to come back and edit it in if I find the answer.

The bottom of the three is the Duke of Buccleuch pattern, "to celebrate the long and necessary contribution that the cottage industry of hand knitted items."

The middle one - ? (perhaps you, the reader, know? It looks like a spiralling ribbon if I stand back, but that isn't sparking any connections, either.)

Edit: @noneorother tells me in a reblog (below) that this pattern represents the shoelace from the magic incantation Aziraphale uses "Banana Fish Gorilla Shoelace." So it is ribbon-like! This then points to the Second Coming, as it the shoelace references the end of the book, and the last paragraph of the book references Yeats poem "The Second Coming" as well as the novel 1984. To me it is then also telling us there is a cycle occurring, or a cycle that needs to be renewed. This fits in with some other clues other meta-writers have been picking up.

Edit 2: Turns out none of that was correct - I heard back from the creator herself and it's actually the double-ended satyr tail pattern again! It just seems to make a bit of an illusion of a ribbon or shoelace.

The pattern below is a modified OXO pattern.

The top one looks like two rams horns facing each other. A hollowed out rams horn can be used as a trumpet, and is known as a shofar in Jewish religion. Gabriel was traditionally known to carry a trumpet.

The ancient meander pattern would be recognized by most people, included as another classic timeless pattern found all over the world. For some it symbolizes eternity and endless flow.

The wheels here appear to be Michael's ophanim wheels, that would have eyes around the rims.

The hourglass is to remind us that time is running out. Memento mori - "Remember that you die." It is a major theme in both series.

Right up high, just before we lose the rest of the vest inside the overcoat, we get a glimpse of a large diamond-shaped icon. I wonder if this is another stylized set of angel wings, like we saw in the Job minisode on Aziraphale's golden collar.

To finish off the outfit, he is wearing dark gray trousers with sneakers! I'm sure that's so he could keep sneaking up on Aziraphale in the shop, haha. His shirt seems a little too large for him and the tie is knotted too high and is not settled along his centerline. It's all at odds with his previous neat and sharp appearance as Supreme Archangel Gabriel.

I'd like to say a big thank you to @aduckwithears for helping me with information on the vest and finding the creator's other social media sites. You can see their two posts about it here and here.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #good omens analysis #aziraphale #gabriel #jimbriel #jim's vest #satyr tails #angel wings #halos #lily #meander pattern #rams horn pattern #hourglass #memento mori #open all hours #good omens costume meta #monty python #gumbys #my brain hurts! #fair isle

[fayes-fics]

Canvas

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: An art lesson with a different kind of canvas

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, body painting, oral sex (m to f), cunnilingus, vaginal sex, edging.

Word Count: 5.0k

Authors note: Sequel to Inspiration, but not necessary to have read before this. Unbetaed. This is a double request fill for @oureternalbond HERE and anon HERE. I decided to combine these requests as they were so similar (in essence, Benedict uses his wife as his canvas then smut ensues). I hope you enjoy <3

You find him in his studio, a glass conservatory he has co-opted for his artistic endeavours. He is barefoot and dressed only in black trousers and a white shirt, his braces hanging loosely around his hips, looking handsomely casual as he paints by candlelight, dusk settling in. It's then you spy his subject, the lovely arrangement of flowers you received from his family for your birthday last week. You wondered where the bouquet had disappeared to just now as you had wandered through your home—they previously had pride of place in your hallway.

“Stealing my birthday presents, husband?” you jest airily, leaning on the doorframe with crossed arms.

Benedict twists around and shoots you an apologetic smile. “Only the artistically meritorious ones, my love,” he responds, amusement laced into his tone. “Join me?” he suggests, waving his brush towards the empty easel beside him.

“I'm not certain I have anything close to the requisite skills,” you hedge. You have only ever attended his painting sessions as his subject or simply as a companion, mostly reading quietly nearby as he works—one memorable time, sitting naked upon his cock to provide the requisite inspiration. Your blood runs a little warm just at the mere memory of it.

“Art does not always need to be about skill. Enjoyment of the process is just as important, perhaps more so. Besides, I can teach you,” he smiles, the corners of his eyes wrinkling beguilingly. He never fails to convince you with that look.

“Alright,” you sigh fondly, straightening up and uncrossing your arms, “but you are not allowed to ridicule my attempt,” you argue, waggling a finger as you walk over.

He laughs and leans in to drop a kiss on your cheek as you draw up next to him. “I would never!” he promises in a bemused tone. “Everything you need is right there,” he nods to the supplies, “you have watched me paint enough times to know how to set up.” 

His confidence in your ability seemed a little unwarranted, but you’ll give it a try.

___

“I cannot do this,” you lament about ten minutes later, looking forlornly between the canvas and the spray of flowers, disappointed in your less-than-accurate rendering. All you have managed is some stems and a vague version of the vase, which looks uneven.

“Nonsense,” he dismisses, “you are doing wonderfully for your first time, my love,” he adds patiently.

You twist around with a knitted brow to look at him. “Benedict, please… your flattery is obsequious. This is… not good,” you sigh, scratching your chin with the wooden end of your brush.

“Perhaps I can assist your efforts?” he offers, putting down his brush into a jar of water and placing his palette aside.

“Please…” you request gratefully.

A smile ghosts your lips as he rounds behind you, pushing you closer to the canvas, a hand landing on your hip under the arm you balance the palette upon, and the other curling around yours, holding the brush. His fingers are warm and soft.

“Now then,” his voice is rich and rumbles right next to your ear, “the first thing is to start with the colour there is the most of on the object, and then you can start to add in light and shade… are you quite alright?” he interrupts himself as you fidget slightly.

“All is well,” you reassure.

But it's a lie. The moment he stands close behind you, your traitorous body decides this is not an art lesson at all. No, it’s something quite different. Readying itself for him with quite remarkable speed and absolutely no effort on his part. Quite astonishing, really. You attempt to listen as he sonorously explains the method involved and makes your selection on the palette and brushstrokes over the canvas. But you are half-listening and half-participating at best.

His breath tickles the wisps of hair around your ears as he seems to lean in closer until he surrounds you with his long arms and body heat. He smells of his woodsy soap, and you have to tamp down the urge to twist your nose into his strong neck and inhale deeply. For a few minutes, he guides your hand, and you relax into the motion, enjoying the sensation of being so utterly engulfed by him much more than the act.

“Now, how about you try?” he voices, gently removing his hand from yours.

You stutter, realising you were not taking on board what he was saying, distracted by the striking mental image of him painting a glistening line across your collarbone, a bright golden streak over your bare flesh. You try to remember what he said and make a hesitant dab on the canvas, but there is a disapproving noise against your temple. 

“That is not what I told you to do, now, is it?” he teases lowly.

“I do not know how to do it…” you confess in a breathy whisper. “Please guide me for a little longer, Benedict,” you implore.

“Were you listening to a word I said?” he asks, but it's not a disapproving tone. Not remotely. It’s a liting rumble, his face turning into yours so the tip of his nose nuzzles your earlobe, his breath hot on your jaw.

You suspect your lack of attention to his instruction may have been found out. 

“People pay good money for me to teach them how to paint,” he breathes into your ear, both hands now on your hips, fingers circling over the diaphanous layers of your thin, silk gown. “And yet here is my wife, not even listening to her expert teacher.”

“I am… I…” you give up, knowing it's a pointless lie. You try a different tack. “I should hope you do not treat your other students in this manner?” you throw back, rocking onto your heels so the press of your bodies is greater.

“Indeed I do not,” he murmurs, and you inhale sharply as his teeth graze the shell of your ear. 

“So perhaps this is somewhat unfair to me,” you posit, pouting your lips, knowing his eyes are watching you side on.

He chuckles richly. “Perhaps,” and he gently slides the paintbrush from between your fingers. “There is another method by which I can teach you all about the pleasures of painting.” 

“Oh, and what is that?” you breathe, closing your eyes as warm lips land on your neck, that weak spot which makes you completely pliant.

“It requires a different canvas,” he whispers, his lips catching on your skin.

For a fleeting moment, you consider if he could read where your thoughts had skated only minutes earlier; again, you think of golden paint on your flesh. There is a faint ting as he drops the brush into a glass jar of water and eases the palette from where it is hooked around your thumb, and you do not fight it; just stand still and attempt to regulate your breathing, eagerly awaiting what he will do next.

Your heart rate spikes as deft fingers undo the buttons between your shoulder blades.

“You have such beautiful skin,” he sighs, his lips dropping warm onto the top of your shoulder as your dress relents and falls in a pool around you. “I want to paint you.”

Your breath hitches as he runs a knuckle down the notches of your spine; glad you didn’t bother with a chemise. Your eyes fall closed as he kisses your skin again and plucks open the laces of your stays. When the material slackens, he pulls the structured fabric away from your body and tosses it aside, his hands instantly cupping your breasts and pulling you back into him.

Your moan is wanton as you writhe, his fingers snagging your nipples as they pebble against his palm. One hand sweeps down to the little buttons on your silk underwear and deftly flicks them open as his other hand is busy, making your nipple into a stiff peak.

“Lay down, darling wife,” he murmurs, the tone laden, as your underwear slips around your ankles. 

He gestures to the oversized double chaise conveniently covered in a heavy canvas drop cloth. It’s almost as if he planned for this. You hold his hand delicately as he assists you into a reclined position.

“Will you not be getting naked too, husband?” you coo, watching as he returns for a palette and brush.

“It would certainly make clean-up easier,” he smirks and rips off his shirt, tossing it aside.

Then he walks back to you, a slight swagger in his gait, knowing he has your undivided, breathy attention as your eyes covetously drink in his torso.

“Gold…” escapes your lips unbidden and stops him in his tracks as he towers above you.

“Gold, what?” his query warm, but puzzled as he places the art supplies on the floor next to the chaise.

“When I dream of you painting me, my body,” you confess, “it’s always gold.”

He leans over, his face etched with desire. “You dream of me doing this?” 

“Yes,” you murmur, “Your cool, wet brush swirling over my heated skin….” you close your eyes and bite your lip, lost in the reverie of it.

“Tell me more,” he implores, his breath hot on your cheek, the chaise squeezing as he sits beside you. “Keep your eyes closed if it helps,” he adds, moving back; it sounds like he is fiddling with the supplies.

“You start at my neck….” you sigh, inhaling sharply when a wet ticklish brush lands right on the left side of your neck, then holds still.

“And then?” he prompts gently.

“Then… you do a swooping line over my chin to my other ear,” you breathe, gasping as he does exactly as you describe, the smell of fresh paint filling your nostrils, the feel of it wet and heavy.

“What is next?” his voice is dark and sweet now, goading you into more detail.

“Then you paint a line down the side of my neck, over here…” you gesture at your collarbone, “...then lower,” you end in a whisper, almost reluctant to admit how erotic your fantasies of him can be.

Nothing, however, can prepare you for those errant thoughts becoming a reality—the drag of cold buttery substance, each bristle a damp tickle as he smears a line to the swell of your breast, your eyes flying open to see his gaze heavy and intense on the task in hand. Your nipple pebbles almost painfully, even though he does not stray close to it, surrounding your breast with a golden loop, his pupils dilating, his breath hot on your skin, leaning close. 

“Does that feel good?” he practically purrs.

You nod, feeling the wetness blotting across your neck at your movement.

Without asking you what happens next in your dream, he takes the initiative and traces a line around your other breast, the brush dipping into the valley of your breastbone before continuing. When you tip your head to see his handiwork, the metallic hue shines bright in the candlelight.

“May I use other colours on you too, my love?” his question is almost reverential in tone.

“I am yours, Benedict,” you sigh honestly, “do with me as you wish.”

Those words light an artistic and sensual fire in his eyes; he pushes up to kiss you, plundering your mouth with a possessive kiss. When he pulls away, you feel dazed, desperate for more, but you watch patiently as he reaches for another clean brush on the floor by his feet and selects a new choice from the palette.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs.

You do as he asks, aching to know what hue it is. You gasp as a broader brush runs across your skin, starting at your neck and sweeping down, shadowing the path of the other line already drying on your skin.

“What colour?” your curiosity getting the better of you.

“What is your favourite on me?” he teases gently, his strokes seeming to concentrate most on the sensitive skin under your breast, making your thoughts fuzzy, distracted—you know it's intentional.

“You look good in so many colours,” you offer; it's the truth. “I love your light gold cravat,” you add with a sigh, knowing he has already used that shade at your request.

“You are stalling, my love,” he points out with a bemused tone, teasingly flicking the ends of his brush in the spot closest to your underarm.

“Blue? You always look so handsome in every shade of blue, from navy to sky,” you guess.

“Oh, then that shall have to be next,” he lilts, telling you that you have guessed incorrectly.

You mentally flick through some of your favourite of his outfits, squirming slightly at the images you see, his brush still teasing. Then there is a lightbulb moment.

“Burgundy red!” you exclaim, remembering the waistcoat he wore on the day you met, the one that made you lose the power of speech, temporarily tongue-tied, never having seen a man wear such fine silks before.

“Well done, darling,” he compliments. 

You open your eyes to see he has interwoven the harmonious shades in an exquisite arching design, truly using your skin as a canvas. 

“Now lay still; there is much work still to do,” he instructs softly.

You settle into the chaise, your belly fluttering as he slips lower, daubing your diaphragm in intricate loops, trying to keep your breaths shallow for a still surface. He swaps brush again, back to gold, holding the other in his knuckle, the rich red loaded tip contrasting his pale skin. 

When he sinks below your ribs onto your belly, you bite your lip, the light touch tickling you to the point of giggling. You try your best not to move, but when he glides over a sensitive patch, it bubbles out of you on reflex. 

His gaze pings up to your face, a lopsided grin claiming his features. “Does that tickle?” he mocks gently. You can only giggle more in reply as he teases even lighter over that weak spot. 

“Stop it,” you whisper, knowing how much he enjoys the tease.

“Never,” he responds lightly, lowering his face; you jolt as he lightly bites your bare nipple, and you cry out. “I veritably exist to tease you; you are so beautiful like this,” he whispers, pausing in his artistry, pressing you into the chaise with his body weight.

“Look at you,” you giggle as he pulls away again, seeing smears of pain across his chest. 

“That is nothing. I expect both of our bodies will be a riot of colours by the time I am done with you, wife.” His tone is simultaneously light with mirth and dark with promise.

“Perhaps you should speed up,” you answer playfully; it may dry before you have the opportunity.” He laughs, teething your other nipple before refreshing the line.

“Not a chance.” 

Just as your stomach clenches at the idea he will move lower, he grabs your right arm and concentrates his efforts there as if to elongate the burn of anticipation you feel. It's less ticklish until he swipes the crook of your elbow over your veins, making you giggle again, meeting his hazy blue eyes with an intense stare. Wordlessly he kisses your hand before swapping to your left arm, creating free-hand a mirror image of the pattern on your right. It's striking, and somewhat ironically, you wish there was a portrait of you looking like this, covered in his design.

As you are lost in your reverie of that thought, he slips lower on the chaise, and you gasp as he restarts the line at your middle and swirls down all over your belly. He employs a heavier stroke so as not to tickle as much, alternating the two, holding both brushes with ease between his long artistic fingers. You have to bite back a moan when one swoop goes lower, skating along the top of your pubic hair. 

“Open your legs,” his voice low and decadent. Feeling a burning low in your gut, you draw up your knees a few inches and part your legs a fraction, keeping your feet together. “I said…” he grabs your ankle and plants it at the edge of the chaise, out wide, “...open your legs,” his voice dark, making you flush hot.

You meekly move your other foot to match the stance, now lewdly spread before him. 

“Much better,” his voice rough as his gaze is heavy on your core. “Do not move,” he commands.

You pant lightly as he resumes, leaning in so close you can feel his breath on your inner thighs. He paints a line from your belly down over your hip and up your thigh. It's the longest he has done, ending with a flourish at your kneecap. Then he swaps the brushes and traces along the same path in the dark red. 

“What of the navy blue husband?” you murmur, trying to keep your voice even, even though you feel a slight tremble in your body at the contrast of the cool liquid and the warm flush of arousal.

“All in good time. You should not rush an artist at work, darling,” he replies playfully.

“What if your canvas is in need?” you inquire quietly.

“Where does my darling canvas have a need, hmm?” he asks duskily, intentionally acting obtuse even as his breath puffs close to the place you want him the most.

He runs a line achingly slow down your inner thigh, looping under into the crease where your buttock meets your thigh, the odd feeling making goose bumps break out across your surrounding skin, the tilt of his face right above where you burn so hot. 

“Here, perhaps?” he whispers, and you cry out as his warm wet mouth opens wide on your folds.

One of your hands shoots down to grasp his hair as he unfurls his tongue, swiping deep into your folds, lapping the overflowing well of moisture there. You stare down the plane of your body, watching the colour on your inner thigh streak across his clavicle and shoulder as he drinks from your body, pulling your pearl between his lips and sucking so hard you see stars. His eyes fly open and hold yours; his gaze is fiery as he swipes under your clitoral hood. His tongue dabs the most sensitive spot, the one that makes your leg want to kick out and go rigid from the intense sensation. Just as you start to writhe and moan, he pulls back. You pout in disbelief as he calmly returns to painting.

“How can you tease me so?!” you lament, chest heaving, hand falling from its grip on his chestnut locks.

He laughs and continues with his art, your concentration barely registering it, your heartbeat throbbing in your abandoned, swollen clit.

“Please, Benedict,” you appeal, absentmindedly watching him switch to the other shade.

It seems he is ignoring you as his brow knits in concentration, glancing at your other leg to ensure, as with your arms, it is an exact mirror. It's undoubtedly stunning, but somehow your interest in it has waned, all of your thoughts of needing his mouth back where it was.

You plead again and almost want to cry in relief as he seems to huff sympathetically and move so his face is again a fraction from where you want him. After one long, indulgent swipe through your soaked folds that has you gasping loudly, he stops, rears up and quickly climbs over your body, his lips landing on yours, damp and tangy with your desire. Shaking with unsated need, you whimper against his musky tongue as he kisses you deeply. 

“Please,” your voice has a tremulant quality betraying your need, he has taken you to the edge, and the denial makes you prickle hot all over.

“Soon,” it’s a whispered promise, “your skin is too arresting of a sight flushed like this. I need to paint more upon this gorgeous canvas,” he sighs, leaning over to scoop up his brushes again.

“Benedict, please,” you writhe, letting your legs fall closed, hoping to rub against your clit, eager for stimulation.

“Open your legs,” he tuts as he returns his attention to you, parting your knees carefully with his hands, avoiding his handiwork. “If you keep misbehaving, darling, I shall not let you come,” he warns with an arched brow.

“Then I shall have to touch myself,” you sass, squaring your jaw in defiant playfulness. 

“We shall see about that,” he challenges. “Give me your fingers.” Hazy, you allow him to encircle your wrist, only startling when large beads of wetness daub your fingertips. “There we go, navy blue,” he smirks, grabbing your other hand and repeating the action. 

You stare at him dumbfounded, realising you cannot touch yourself now without a mess. That smug crooked smile is still there as you watch him crawl slowly between your legs before diving facefirst into you again, making you scream. You want to grip his hair, but with your fingers now dripping with navy, you feel you should refrain. However, when he loops his arms around your hips, you grab his wrists instead as they frame your thighs. Slathering streaks of dark blue on his pale forearms as he lashes you with his tongue, you calling his name.

He is ravenous, using his whole face to arouse your senses, the stubble of his chin abraiding your labia as he once again teases you, suckling your clit into his mouth, circling his tongue in firm strokes, undulating and spearing it just where you need, as if intuiting what you need at any moment, The tip of his nose is burrowed into your patch of hair, inhaling your scent as if he cannot get enough of your taste and smell, his primal behaviour just making your more wanton for him.

He moans, muffled encouragements into your cunt, the cadence vibrating up into your pubic bone. You stare transfixed at him, decadent, delicious, filthy, a debauched and erotic tableau, the skin pulling taunt over his high cheekbones as he consumes you. Just as your pussy starts to flutter, he pulls up and teases you, pursing his lips and blowing a slow puff of air over your overheated pearl. It's not enough and too much all at once, such a different sensation from his lathing tongue. He chuckles as you groan in frustration and grasp his wrists tightly, fingernails digging blue crescents into his flesh, hoping to incite him back into action.

Instead, he shakes off your grip and swiftly stands up and roughly tugs at the buttons on his trousers, smirking down at you as you turn breathless again with desire, holding your painted fingers on either side of your head as he drops the fabric. As ever, he is without underwear, and even though his straining cock is a familiar sight, every time, it steals your breath and makes you pulse deep inside, just for him.  

He prowls over your prone body, almost cat-like, admiring his handiwork. “You are my masterpiece,” the awed but somehow still achingly seductive tone he employs makes your hips cant up towards him, a reflex, your body seeking his.

Uncaring of the mess it will leave, you run your navy fingertips from his chest to his pelvis, curling a little to scrape your nails into the paint trails. It looks like animal claws—as if you are marking him, possessive. His response is a growl at you, hoisting your legs into the crook of his elbow and with a flash of something primal in his eyes, he surges into your weeping body with one swift thrust.

It makes you call his name. So loudly that you know the staff will hear it throughout the house. You don’t care—don’t care if they come running to check on your welfare and find you naked and decorated, pinned under your husband as he begins to fuck into you, so roughly the whole chaise squeaks and moves across the tiled floor. His body curled over yours, his large hand above your head gripping the raised chaise end for leverage. 

Lost in the carnality of how he is taking you, your walls clinging to his plunging cock, you band your arms around him, smearing long finger trails down the contours of his back until you reach his buttocks and squeeze them covetously, encouraging him to push deeper, go harder, and make it hurt. The glorious, intricate pattern on your skin still tacky, causing your flesh to cling to his and smudge together, the blue on him with the gold and burgundy from you. Blotches and smears that look so vibrant on his pale skin.

“Are you close again, my love?” his question, a touch breathless as he thrusts into you.

You hiss your confirmation, eyes rolling as you grasp his cheeks again and force your legs wider, greedy for him, for more. For him to push so far into your body, it will feel like he’s always there, even when he’s not, like some internal tattoo of him carved into your being. 

“More Benedict… please,” urgent now. It feels like all you’ve done for hours is plead with him, needing to release so badly your mind feels akin to madness, an itch in your brain that needs to be scratched. 

But he slows, and you want to scream in frustration, his movements shallow, delicate, not the onslaught you need to take you over the precipice he has dangled you over what feels like countless times. 

“I love to see this,” his voice husky, breath puffing hot on your face, “when you are so unbridled with need, darling. I cannot resist taking you so close and denying you: the wild look, your untamed desire. All for me.”

You move your hands from his behind and grab his jaw, uncaring that you plaster his face with blue fingermarks. “It's always for you, just you, Benedict, my love, my life,” you affirm, hoping that is what he needs to hear to finally release you from this heightened state of near delirium.

His responding grin is breathtaking, and he begins to plough into you in earnest, his gaze never leaving yours, eyes burning to witness the moment you break for him. The chaise protests loudly, the wooden feet scraping hard on the floor under his unforgiving pace.

You bite your lip and plead with your eyes, wanting his expert touch to push you over.

“Your fingers, please,” you implore, and suddenly three are shoved between your lips, traces of the bitter taste of paint there, along with the tang of sweat and the flavour that is all him. 

“Get them nice and wet, darling,” he lectures, not slowing his pace. You greedily wrap your tongue around his invading digits and slather them in your saliva, drooling around him as his thrusts jolt your entire body. “Yes darling, that's it,” he encourages, and he snarls as you run an edge of teeth over his cuticles, goading him, loving to see him as lost in the potency of the moment as you.

Then with a look that always makes you breathless, he slides the fingers out of your mouth, and they snake between your bodies, finding your engorged clit with ease. You scream his name, and a few harsh flicks are all you need to tip over, clenching so hard around his cock that his hips stutter and he roars into your ear as you fracture around him. Waves of pleasure ripple across your body, almost violent, your muscles spasming, your limbs shaking uncontrollably after being denied.

Distantly, as if through cotton wool, you hear him cursing and growling your name, teeth pressing into the cord of your neck as he curls around you with one final jerk and a loud, guttural groan, he stills, his body stiff, a vein pulsing heavily in his neck and forehead as he empties into you, warmth blooming deep inside you as he spills. Shortly after, he collapses onto his forearms, bracketing your body, mindful not to squash you under his weight as he pants, heaving breaths, his chest bumping yours with each ragged inhale.

You don't say words; just trail the remaining blue paint on your fingers across the skin of his shoulders, connecting the collage of freckles there into a slanted star-like shape. Below a certain point, your bodies resemble a rainbow; the detail he built so carefully now merely a smudge of lively streaks.

“Did you enjoy your painting lesson, my love?” his tone whimsical as his breathing returns to normal.

You giggle and push up to plant a kiss on his smiling lips. “You know I did, Mr Bridgerton; you are a wonderful teacher,” you wink; his responding laugh makes your whole body jiggle under him.

“Now to get clean,” he hums drolly, his grin lopsided and winsome. “I believe we may need to share a bath.”

“Or swim in the lake,” you posit jokingly, rolling your head to look out of the large glass panes, down across the moonlit grass to the water beyond. When you tilt your head back, his look is priceless. His eyebrows shoot up, and that grin grows wider. 

“I love how you think,” he gusts, and you squeal as he scoops you in his arms bridal style, and before you know it, he has elbowed open the French doors and is carrying you to the water’s edge.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader

[searchingforakeythatdoesntexist]

DAY 13 - «On Thin Ice» Good Omens AU - Triptych Tribute for @blairamok

Part 1/3: "Falling Angel" Aziraphale

Please, listen to this

Change everything you are

And everything you were

Your number has been called

Fights and battles have begun

Revenge will surely come

Your hard times are ahead

Don't let yourself down

Don't let yourself go

Your last chance has arrived

Best, you've got to be the best

You've got to change the world

And use this chance to be heard

Your time is now

Falling Angel, your time is now!

(yes I know this Muse song has another sense in the On Thin Ice universe - for Crowley. Well, our Fallen Serpent will show us what IS a true Survival, tomorrow. ;-)

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Personal challenge: a simple sketch each day

Goal: forcing me to keep things simple - inking, shading, just a few sashes of colour

Improvement pursued: to get the movement, the emotion, finding how to add depth, learning how to leave things barely finished

Max time allowed: 2 hours, as usual for my Daily Challenges. Well, this is a very special Tribute for me, and I was on a three-days break. So I didn’t really set a timer for the « On Thin Ice » sketches. Plus, I drew them quite in the same time and on the same file to be sure Crowley and Aziraphale would match. I guess I spent more or less 3 hours on the lineart for each one of them (the clothes and the figures needed a lot of time), plus 1h30-2h on the colouring/shading for each one.

Be aware that in my first sketches for this project, Crowley and Aziraphale were supposed to train on the same ice rink, and I dearly wanted Crowley to be watching Aziraphale, and Aziraphale was supposed to glance back to him. I had to give up on this idea later – because the figure I chose for Aziraphale definitely couldn’t allow such a shared glance. (but, hello, it will be a triptyque ! So, guess what? About the third part… :-p)

About Aziraphale, as my « Falling Angel ».

« On Thin Ice » author, @blairamok, describes the Hydroplane ice skating figure as very representative of Aziraphale, and the drawing reference pictures were numerous enough to get some solid inspiration. It’s a complex skating figure. I have watched some ice skating tutorials on YouTube – because I wanted the movement of the clothes and hair to be accurate and, if I understand everything properly, even a slight alteration in the position of the arms can make you fall. Such perfection ! That IS the right move for Aziraphale !

I told sooner on my Gymnast !AU challenge that I appreciated drawing Aziraphale with realistic curves more and more each day – even if it still triggers me sometimes about my own shaming roundnesses. I realised my way of doing art – and my mind too, maybe - was evolving when I got back to check references in the amazing Blair artworks (link AO3). A few months ago, I felt insecure watching Blair’s Aziraphale, which seemed to me too much plump and very soft – not a « good sportive look », I thought then. But now I like him more and more, so maybe my way of thinking is changing, and I think this is for the very best.

My Aziraphale is performing a difficult figure, so he is using all his muscles into maintaining his balance. He seems so statuesque, so powerful, yet very focused and oblivious to the world around him, with his eyes shut. That is why he couldn’t share a glance with my Crowley. T.T

.

Maybe this is my way to guess Aziraphale’s behavior in the so-awaited « On Thin Ice »  next chapters. Focused on his own training, trying to ignore Crowley’s sassyness but still secretly impressed by his partner’s skills. Because they share the same love for Ice Skating, even if they don’t show it in the same way.

Blair, if you ever read this, thank you. For your artworks, for making us dream about a wonderful story that still remains to be told.

Thank you for « On Thin Ice », for your so-kind message last week, and for everything else.

I have faith. I’ll wait for your story. But even if it doesn’t exist yet, I am already dreaming about it, and this is priceless.

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#on thin ice #blairamok #I am so happy about it! #good omens #good omens fanart #Aziraphale #Crowley #aziracrow #art #my art #ineffable husbands #David tennant #Michael Sheen #ElenPersonnalChallenge #ElenthyaAndGoodOmens #Ineffable Feathers #good omens au #Ineffable lovers #Ineffable Ice Skaters #ElenthyaGallery

[lupinmoonlight]

Hello, I love your stories <3 Can I request for story professor Lupin x female student, with dominating Remus, a lot rough sex, blow job and very sweet and tender aftercare? :)

Corrupted

Masterlist AO3

Summary - You and Professor Lupin had been having an affair for some time already. However, this time, he couldn't help himself and practically snatches you from the corridors in broad daylight. Rough sex in Professor Lupin's quarters ensues. (2,450 words)

Warnings - professor/student, smut, blow job (reader giving), swallowing, rough sex, professor kink, lots of "good girl", implicit mention of spanking, reader climaxes twice, so does remus, marking, mention of bruising, mention of biting, choking, reader depicted as "innocent", mention of reader almost passing out, aftercare, not proof-read, my grammar.

Notes - Thank you so much for your comment and request, Anon! Sorry for taking a while for this, I hope you enjoy! I appreciate everyone's patience. I am slowly going through requests.

You were making your way to lunch when you felt yourself getting grabbed firmly and pulled aside. His approach was subtle yet deliberate, a skill he had mastered over the last few months. His voice was a warm whisper, barely audible in the sea of students, for your ears only. "My quarters. Now." 

You looked up at him, your eyes wide. The picture of innocence, though your mind raced with vivid images of what was to come. His gaze held yours. Intense. Hungry. Unyielding. This was not a request. It was a command. 

"I...Yes, Professor Lupin," you managed to reply. 

"Good girl," he murmured, his breath tickling your ear. "Don't keep me waiting." 

He stepped back, blending seamlessly into the crowd, and you were left rooted to the spot, your knees nearly giving out. You took a moment to gather yourself, trying to calm the racing of your heart and the flush that coloured your cheeks. You glanced around, ensuring that no one had noticed your exchange, and made your way through the corridors. 

Reaching his quarters, you paused outside the door. You were nervous. It was a feeling that never went away, no matter how many times you met in this clandestine manner. He had an effect on you that was overwhelming, intoxicating, suffocating, in the most delightful way. The mere thought of him, of his presence, of his scent, was enough to make you combust. 

Finally feeling brave enough, you knocked softly. The door swung open, and there he stood. He stepped aside without a word, his eyes never leaving you, silently inviting you inside. 

The moment the door clicked shut behind you, Remus moved closer, his tall frame effortlessly backing you into the wall. Your face instantly turned a deep shade of red under his intense gaze. 

"My, my," he murmured, a teasing lilt in his voice as he observed your reaction. "You really are the cutest when you're all flustered like this." 

You, utterly undone by his proximity and the deep timbre of his voice, could only manage a weak nod, your breath catching in your throat.

"Look at you," he murmured, "all flushed and breathless. Can't even look me in the eye, can you?" 

Your cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red if that was even possible, your gaze flitting down, unable to hold his. Remus's hand guided your face gently back towards his, his fingers trailing up to entangle in your hair. With a firm tug, he exposed your neck, leaning down to press his lips against your skin, leaving a mark that was as much a claim as it was a caress. 

Your knees weakened at the sensation, your grip on him tightening as a soft gasp escaped your lips, making him chuckle against your skin. 

Pulling back slightly, he watched you with a hungry gaze. "Wear your hair up tomorrow," he instructed. "I want to see that mark I left on you." 

You could only nod, too flustered to utter a single word. But Remus wasn't satisfied with just a nod. 

"Ah, ah," he admonished lightly. "Use your words, sweetheart." 

"Yes, Professor," you whispered. "I will." 

"What a good girl," he praised softly, his words sending a fresh wave of heat through you. He pressed closer, and you could feel the hardness of him against you through his trousers. Instinctively, you pressed back, seeking more contact. 

In a swift movement, Remus spun you around, pressing you into the wall. His hips pressed flush against yours. You tried to press back against him, your actions betraying your desperation. 

His response was primal, a growl rumbling in his chest. "You're so responsive, so eager," he observed, his breath hot against your ear. "Do you have any idea how much that turns me on?"

Your breath hitched, your body trembling with need. "Professor, please," you begged. 

Another growl rumbled in his chest and before you could do anything, he abruptly pulled back and dragged you to his bedroom with an urgency that bordered desperation. He released your arm, eyeing you as if you were his prey and he was a starved predator. 

"On your knees," he commanded, and you stood there, unable to move, feeling vulnerable and captivated at the same time. 

"On. Your. Knees," he repeated and this time you obeyed, sinking down onto the floor in front of him. 

You looked up at him as he stepped closer, his gaze never leaving yours. He reached down and gripped your hair firmly, pulling your head towards him. Your eyes were perfectly aligned with his crotch, the outline of his hardened length straining against the fabric of his trousers. You swallowed thickly in anticipation, your lack of experience making you nervous. 

His free hand reached to unbuckle his belt and the sound of his zipper getting undone filled the room. The sight of you on your knees, looking so innocent and vulnerable, was maddening, making his length twitch. He finally freed himself, his eyes never leaving yours, his grip in your hair tightening. 

"Open," he commanded, guiding himself to your mouth. 

You obeyed, your lips parting to take him in. Your fingers delicately wrapped around him, and your lips, soft and inviting, approached his hardness. He sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes darkening with need.

The first touch of your lips against his sensitive tip had him gasping. Your mouth was warm, wet, and perfect around him. You pulled back slightly, teasingly running your tongue along the underside of his shaft. The sensation made him jerk involuntarily, a throaty groan escaping him. Encouraged by his reaction, you began to work your way down, taking more of him in. "That's it," he murmured, his fingers instinctively tangling in your hair more firmly. 

He let you experiment with your pace as you started to bob your head in rhythm, eliciting deeper moans from him. Feeling bold, you decided to go deeper, to try and take him in fully. The tight constriction made his knees nearly buckle, causing him to throw his head back and moan aloud as he hit the back of your throat. "Good girl, so very good." 

His gaze found yours again, taking in every detail: the way your lips stretched around him, the slight watering of your eyes, the flicker of determination to please him. The sight was intoxicating. "So beautiful," he rasped, barely able to string words together. 

It didn't take long before his control began to waver. Gripping your head, he started to set the pace, moving in and out of your mouth in rhythmic thrusts. Each movement brought him closer to the edge, and he could see you trying your best to keep up, tears starting to roll down your flushed cheeks. 

You moaned around him, sending vibrations up his length, making him curse loudly. The sounds you made, the way you tried to keep up with his thrusts, only fueled his arousal further. "You're going to make me come," he warned, his grip on your hair tightening. 

"F-fuck," he growled as he felt his climax approaching, his thrusts becoming short and fast.

"Swallow," he commanded. "Be a good girl for me and swallow." 

You could only nod as he kept using your mouth for his pleasure until his body went taut and he thrust deep into your mouth one last time, his seed filling your throat in thick, warm strands. 

You choked a little, overwhelmed by him, but Remus held you there, his body throbbing with each pulse, until you swallowed everything. "Good girl," he muttered, his chest heaving from the intensity. 

The sight before him was so erotic, sending a new wave of arousal through him. You, still in your innocent school uniform, now tainted by his lust, your face flushed and lips swollen, tear-streaked cheeks. "Look at you," he purred, "so beautifully ruined for me." 

In a haze, you were hauled up from the floor and thrown on the bed, face down. "Can't keep my hands off you," he growled, hiking up your skirt with trembling hands, removing your panties hastily.

"Lift up your hips for me," he ordered, his voice firm and filled with hunger. 

Before you could comply, you felt a dip in the mattress and his strong hands gripped your hips with a bruising force, raising them up and positioning you to his liking. A small whimper escaped you as you felt vulnerable and exposed. He let out another growl at the sight of you, hips raised; a beautiful display of submission just for him. 

You felt his tip of teasing your entrance, eliciting a desperate moan from you as you tried to press back into him, desperate to have him inside you. 

"Good girls use their words to tell what they want," he practically growled as his hand landed sharply on your backside. 

"R-Remus...please," you begged breathlessly, but it wasn't good enough for him. With a fistful of your hair he tugged your head back, almost bending you in half from behind, his mouth next to your ear as he whispered "You will address me properly. Now try again. What do you want?" 

"I...I want you inside me. P-please, Professor," you tried again desperately. The anticipation was too much and you felt like you might be pushed over the edge without him even touching you. 

The words were barely out of your mouth when he pushed into you, filling you completely. There was no time for niceties, no time to get you ready. You cried out, clinging to the sheets below you as if they were your lifeline. "Professor!" Your voice came out as a pathetic whimper, barely audible amidst the heavy sounds of his laboured breathing. 

"So tight...Always so tight for me," he hissed. He dominated every inch of you, his trusts hard, deep, unrelenting. The sound of his body colliding with yours filled the room, each thrust driven by pure need. He was like a man starved, each touch, each bite, each mark, feeding a desire that felt like an endless pit. An insatiable void. 

His hands roamed over you as he kept pumping into her relentlessly. He was everywhere. One of his hands reached around your throat, restricting your airways in the most delightful way. The feeling went straight to your core and your climax hit you unexpectedly, with such force that your vision went blank. You felt yourself spiraling, the world narrowing to the sensation of him inside you. With a cry, you tightened around him, surrendering to the intensity of your release. 

Your face was pushed down, the sheets muffling your whimpers as his body pushed you into the mattress. He didn't care that you came. He didn't care that you were overstimulated. He didn't stop. He continued his merciless pace, the pleasure now bordering on pain. 

"God, Y/N," he cursed, the force of his thrusts increasing. "You feel so damn good." 

You cried out, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. You couldn't breathe, you couldn't move. All you could do what lay there, on your stomach, hips raised as your Professor took what he needed. And it was perfect. 

You cried out again, your body tensing as another wave of pleasure crashed over you unexpectedly. Having you clench around him like that was his undoing. With a final thrust, he buried himself deep within you, causing you to gasp. "That's it, take all of me," he rasped as he spilled into you with abandon, his hands gripping your hips possessively. 

Each thrust that followed milked him for every drop, his hips grinding against yours as he sought to sate the hunger that consumed him. As his movements slowly stilled, he remained inside you for a few more moments, trying to catch his breath. A soft kiss was place on your shoulder but you barely registered it. 

He withdrew slowly and sat back on his heels, his body slick with sweat, his breath coming in heavy pants. You tried to move, but a gentle hand on the small of your back stopped you. "No. Let me. I want to take care of you." 

You slumped back on the bed, overwhelmed by what had just transpired. You were shivering, your breathing was laboured, you couldn't speak, couldn't move. Remus, ever attentive to your needs, quickly recognized the signs of you experiencing a drop, a common reaction after such intense moments. His nurturing instincts kicked in, seamlessly shifting from the dominant beast to the caring protector he inherently was. With a soft incantation, he cast a cleaning spell over you both, removing any physical traces of your shared passion. 

"Are you alright?" he asked, the concern clear in his voice. When you didn't respond, too caught in trying to ground yourself back, he gently turned you around, sitting you up. His hands were tender as they cradled your cheeks, his eyes searching yours for any sign of distress. 

"Look at me, love. Breathe with me," he coaxed gently. He took deep, deliberate breaths, guiding you to sync your breathing with his. Slowly, your breaths became more regular, the trembling of your body easing as you came back to yourself. 

Once you seemed calmer, Remus helped you back into your underwear and smoothed your clothes with a careful touch. He conjured a glass of water with another quick spell and held it to your lips, encouraging you to drink. Still slightly dazed, you complied, the cool water a welcome relief to your sore throat. 

"Good girl," he praised softly, his voice now warm with affection. His approval brought a faint smile to your lips, a small sign that you were recovering. 

"There you are," he cooed, pressing the softest of kisses to your forehead. After you finished your drink, he lay back down, gently pulling you into his embrace. He held you close, cradling you against his chest as if you were the most precious thing in the world. His touch was gentle, reverent, as he peppered your face with light kisses. 

"I'm here, you're safe," he murmured soothingly. 

You nestled into his embrace, the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart grounding you. 

"You made me miss lunch, you know? That's quite unforgivable, Professor Lupin." 

Remus looked at you with feigned guilt, a twinkle in his eye. "Oh dear, I am terribly sorry. How can I possibly make up for such a grievous error?" 

You couldn't help but giggle at his theatrics. "Well, I suppose you were lunch enough for today," you teased back with a huff. 

He sighed playfully, shaking his head. "I fear I've corrupted you, Y/N." 

"Perhaps it is I who have corrupted you, Professor."

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #professor lupin #professor lupin x reader #remus lupin smut #professor lupin smut #hp #hp smut #hp fanfic

[regal-bones]

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WAITING TIMES (PLEASE READ)

Thanks to the amazing support of my Patrons, I no longer need to do commissions to sustain myself for bare essentials like rent and food. But that means that I am now only working on commission work if I need extra money. This means that waiting times can be very long, and should be considered indefinite! Even when I was working on commissions as my full time job, waiting times were up to 11 months long! This is now going to increase, and if you aren’t already on the waiting list please factor a wait of at least 2 years. This kinda sucks, but as an artist I don’t really want to be working on commissions forever and being able to spend more time on my own work is very fulfilling! My commissions work on a waitlist system. Moving forward, if I am in a position where I need to work on commissions I will work slowly through my waiting list. If I message you and you are no longer financially in a place to work get something like this done, no stress! I’ll keep your spot at the top and anytime you have the money I can fit you into my schedule and get to work :)

If you are a patron of mine, please let me know when you are placing your order! As a patron you’ll skip half the waiting list ❤️

As of today (04/10/2023), my waiting list is 35 slots long!

That being said, I can be motivated with money! If you want your item here and now, I offer priority slots for £200 where I will drop everything and work on your item! I know that is a high price, but as mentioned I am very busy with my own projects! I am always focusing on making money so that I can make art - not the other way around. I only hold 3 priority slots at a time.

I also draw stuff besides magic items! Characters, creatures, environment work - check out my archive if that interests you! These prices can be negotiable depending on the project, but anything that isn’t an item starts pricing at £250

Thank you so much! This is a huge change in how my commissions work, and this level of creative freedom wouldn’t be possible without support from people who like my art, and especially my patrons! (You guys rock!!!) I hope you have a lovely day, and let’s make some fun stuff together

#👑💀

[tteokdoroki]

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— twenty something + eren jaeger.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 30s, smut, fluff, virginity loss, soft sex, oral sex (f!recieving), established relationship, fem!reader - not beta read !

⭑ words — 1K.

⭑ notes — hii my lurvs! i found this in my drafts and decided to finish it off! i think its cute okok <3!! enjoy! - m.list ✩

i feel like sex with eren is goofy. the first time he gets you into his bed, you’re giggling and pressing kisses to one another’s hairlines because you’ve knocked skulls while trying to kiss in the middle of frenzied shirts and kicked off sweat pants and his big eyes, in a colour that you can’t quite describe (are they grey? mixed with blue perhaps? or maybe a shade of green?), crinkle at the corner while he whines above you. “don’t laugh at me, i-i’m trying!” because your boyfriend, your first love, is a child at heart— he grew up too fast and eren gets to feel like a kid with you again— so you reach up and kiss him and tell him that he’s doing great so far.

the first time is clumsy of course, your legs are over his broad and tanned shoulders and eren’s trying so hard not to bust while slipping inside of you for the first time ever— poor baby hissing into your neck and kissing at your flesh to calm himself ( and you ) down because it feels so good and he knows that it hurts for you...just a little. fingers are laced together, squeezing every once and a while, tiny i love yous breathed hotly into skin and then when eren’s all the way in his emerald eyes look down at you with so much love, you know then that neither of you will last long.

and eren will hold you close, like no other. slipping inside of you with gentle thrusts as if you might break or fall to pieces if he’s too rough with you— asking quietly if you like the way it feels when your ankles hook around the small of his back or when you pout just a little bit with your eyes closed. “it feels good, eren. i love you,” comes your affirmation from between lips that bruised with loving kisses and the poor boy stutters and stumbles and almost loses it right there.

you’re both twenty something, out of college and eren is still asking you if you’re okay— seated in his lap on your tatty second hand couch— two broke graduates who need to feel each other more than anything to get rid of the days stressors. you don’t need to verbalise how shitty your day was, because he knows already… he saw it from the moment you stepped into your shitty apartment with the creaky walls and leaky taps. he knows you. 

and eren, like always, asks if you’re okay before you take him— throbbing cock between your sore thighs, bobbing at your entrance until you nod and sink down on him. he doesn’t care that you use him for pleasure, to let the ecstasy burn away at your stresses— because eren loves you oh so much, he has to tell you every time your hips lift from his and every second it takes for you to slam back down after. bodies that know each other’s symphonies off by heart work together like a pianist and their fingers against the keys. every touch, he knows just where to put it and every kiss he knows just where to place it. every thrust, eren makes sure it hits all the right spots inside of your tight little hole to make your head flop back and thighs quiver as you make love and lewd noises into the deep night.

twenty something years later, eren’s giving you the life he promised on your wedding day— there’s kids that sleep down the hall, one in their crib and the others in their respective bedrooms. there’s a school run early in the morning but eren’s as insatiable as can be. no matter how much time has passed, there’s still an undying flame that flickers between yourself and the man with the muddled coloured but pretty eyes and soft brown hair. eren jaeger loves you all the same, makes love to you all the same— sinking into silk sheets gifted to you on your wedding night and between your thighs to lap and suck at your sex like a starved man.

your taste is a blessing to him every time, a flavour he could never grow tired of having spread across his tongue. to eren jaeger, his little corner of heaven is right between your thighs—he could be shackled her, banished to your pretty sex that flutters for him, for all of eternity if he didn’t love every other part of you too. like your cherry-bitten lips, kitten like mewls, the curves that came with ageing and maturing together. your body is a temple, it’s given eren so much, and he’s just a man who worships you. slides his tongue over your slippery sex and devours you with everything he has to offer— your fingers find him in the soiled sheets, hips chasing his face, rutting into it with the desperation for more and like always eren says.

“i love you baby, you okay?” 

and even twenty something years later, it still makes your heart flutter with love.

you nod, just as bashful as you were the first time you made love to eren jaeger. only this time you have his last name, only this time your wedding bands glint on your ring finger as you take control and take hold of your husband’s throbbing cock, thumbing at his slit until he’s putty beneath you. eren’s cheeks flush red, his lips parting in a soft ‘o’ and he looks up at you like you’re worth the entire world and then some.

“i love you, eren.” you tell him like it’s official word, straddling his lap — rolling your hips over his cock sensually and in the way that he likes. calloused fingertips that would never dare to hurt you sink into your fatty hips with stretch marks gifted to you by your children. he tries not to moan and cry out for the love of his life, the mother of his children. it’s so cute. and you slip your hand over his mouth to keep him quiet. “i always will.” 

he whimpers behind your hand as you lean down to kiss him over it — never breaking eye contact. 

twenty something years later you’re both hopeless romantics, extremely in love and will be forever more.

#eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger thirst #eren jaeger imagines #aot x reader #aot x you #aot smut #aot thirst #eren yaeger x reader #eren. yaeger x you #eren yaeger smut #eren yaeger thirst #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki