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arcielee · 1 year

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Hazy Shades of Spring

Summary: A professor runs into one of her students. Paring: Modern Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 3483 Warnings: Nothing too spicy, so please don’t report. ♥ There will be a part 2 though for the smut. Author's Note: This is for the poll you all voted for. I hope you enjoy and a huge thank you to @sapphire-writes for your read over/feedback, your modern Aemond has definitely set the bar (for me anyway). Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @sirenofavalon

It was the fourth walk-by from your waitress when you decided to request your bill and just accept that you, in fact, had been stood up.

You were single and freshly thirty and dating had seemingly become a monstrous thing to attempt. You kept your humor with dating apps, but you also held a mild regret that curled in your abdomen that you ended things with Cregan; as amicable a break-up as it was, you were beginning to believe that complacency might have been the best option.

Now you only had yourself to blame because you finally caved to the incessant needling of your colleague, Johanna Lannister, when she cornered you, again, and pressed her suggestion of a blind date with her husband’s brother.

“It’s his twin brother,” she added to her attempt to make her point. “So you know he’s handsome…”

Your nose involuntarily scrunched with her closing statement, but you decided to set aside your judgment and agreed to it, if anything to shut her up.

Numbers were exchanged and you texted back and forth a bit; he was amiable enough with some wit to him, though not enough to laugh out loud, but it was enough to agree to meet for dinner. The semester had ended and you had submitted your grades, allowing you several weeks of freedom before the spring semester would begin.

He suggested and seemed adamant about the new upscale restaurant that opened up downtown, which was an old theatre that had been purchased and repurposed for fine dining. When you arrived, its renovation was breathtaking: the inside arched upwards and there was a new mural of brilliant colors on the ceiling, with marble columns that led to a grand staircase and red carpeting that was a walkway over the polished floors.

You knew it would be ritzy and opted for a black, flitted dress that complimented your figure and cut off just above your knees, with tights that showed a definitive black seam centering the backside of your legs and a heel with a clasp. You removed your cardigan before you approached the hostess, checking your phone to see the text, running late, be there soon.

Your grip tightened on the phone, with a fleeting moment to retreat homeward but you had put effort into your look tonight and you ignored the call of comfort for a baggy shirt and sweats. Instead, you get a table and order a glass of red wine while you wait.

The time rolled away and your glass neared empty; you checked your phone to see that the courtesy text you sent to see if he was still alive had been left on read. It sends a bolt of vexation in your chest and you finish the wine; you were nettled by the inconsideration being shown by the damn Lannister twin.

An annoyed sigh leaves you and you can feel the pitied look of your waitress. “We do have a bar upstairs,” she offers with a small smile. “It isn’t as crowded as down here.”

Fuck it. You tip her well and decide to climb the grandiose staircase, to make most of your night out as well as escape the music and murmur of the dinner crowd. The lighting was not as harsh and you seated yourself at the end of the bar, ordering a second glass of wine and retrieving a small notepad you have tucked into your purse. “Do you have a pen?” You asked the bartender and he is polite enough to retrieve you one.

You allow the new scenery and your new muse, the feeling of absolute annoyance, to help create something for your editor; lost in your scribble and half a glass later, you are interrupted with a question.

“Professor?”

Your hand stilled on the glass stem, your grip so tight you would think it would crack under the pressure.

Living centrally downtown did mean you would often run into students, present and sometimes past. You knew you were not as old and dusty like some of the other professors, but you kept your reservation with social interactions, giving a tight smile when they acknowledged you and looked for a segue out of any pleasantries they attempted to exchange.

It wasn’t that you did not care for them, it’s just that you did not want to be reminded of your occupation outside of your working hours.

This voice was familiar, with a distinct, low hum from the chest.

Aemond Targaryen.

He was one of the top students at the university; he was never late with assignments, would always push for extra credit, and would meet any opinion with his own educated intellection, which often led to heated debates in business law.

In the beginning, you struggled with your prejudice when he entered your classroom; you noted his gait and composure, how he held himself with an eerie elegance as opposed to his brother and his frat boy persona. Aegon had been a handful, often showing up under the influence of something and once making a crude pass when he asked about extra credit.

You halted the attempt immediately and pushed him from your office; the thought of fraternizing with a student never crossed your mind.

That was until you had Aemond.

His family was known in King’s Landing, their family empire owning most of everything and their standing revered, with a hand in everything within city limits. Aegon only had passed your class, begrudgingly by you, due to the family’s repeated and generous donations to the university, though he hardly deserved the lowest grade you gave him.

It was why you were not surprised when Aemond followed the same academic route, as it was expected for him to get a business degree of some sort and contribute. He had a different drive than his brother, he was present and moved with a determination, some unforeseen drive that pushed him and it gave him an almost arrogant air.

The interactions you shared throughout the semester was a stark contrast to his stern demeanor; his voice was low and commanding, with a genuineness to his tone. He was never inappropriate and you found you actually enjoyed the interactions shared.

He is also so very handsome, you cannot help but admit to yourself, your cheeks flushed when you turned to see him standing and watching you.

Despite the scar that marred his face, a childhood accident was all he shared with you, his mien was still breathtaking. It was apparent he came from old money with the sapphire stone chosen to replace his missing eye and you could still see the gash that cut through from above his brow into the sharp contours of his face. His lips were curled, his head with a slight tilt as he peered at you. Tonight, he wore dark, fitted slacks and button up shirt, with a cashmere sweater and dress jacket. His silver chain peaked underneath his collar and his long, silver hair was not knotted back in his usual low, messy bun, but instead was draped over his broad shoulders.

“Oh, hello, Aemond, how nice to run into you,” you are quick to tuck the notepad back into your purse. “What brings you out tonight?”

He always had this damnable, perpetual smirk that played at his lips, like he is aware of the effect he has on you. Aemond moved to take the seat next to you and you notice how the bartender is quick to serve him a drink. “My father insisted I help my uncle with the grand opening,” he explained, touching the glass but not drinking it. “I am shadowing the ordeal.”

Of course they own this restaurant, your cheeks burning with the realization, but before you could excuse yourself, he instead asks, “You look lovely tonight. What brings you here?” He looks around, “Were you meeting with someone?”

You fidget with your glass, clearing your throat. “Um, I was supposed to meet for a date and…” you faltered on the lie prepared on your lips and instead admitted, “I was stood up.”

His expression is unreadable and he shrugs. “This seems to happen to the best of us,” and he finally lifts his glass to you. “Cheers to the best.”

You give a small smile and the cheers allow you to finish your drink. Aemond gestures for a refill, but you push to stand. “Thank you, but I should probably leave. You are a student, I’m your professor…”

“The semester is over,” his voice is low, his expression almost amused and you note how his eye takes in your form when you stand up. You pull your cardigan on, but it does little to cover your black dress and you burn from his steady gaze. “I’m hardly a student, except for a few filler courses this spring, but then I will be done. And besides, I already turned in my paper and you, actually, already submitted my grade.”

“Oh, did I?” Of course I fucking did.

Aemond hummed. “Yes, in fact. I appreciate the good score.”

The bartender rests the new glass in front of you and you lift it, “Well, it was well earned. And cheers, then, to the semester ending and good grades.”

The soft plink of glass and you see his perpetual smirk playing on his lips again. “You do look lovely tonight and I am obligated to be here. Enjoy your glass of wine and keep me company until it’s finished.”

Since you had not eaten and were on your third glass of wine, it makes you agreeable to accept his company; you know your cheeks are rosy as you are swept up into conversation with him. Aemond always had a wit that would make you laugh, or maybe it was the wine, but either way you found you were enjoying yourself.

With your third glass almost gone, your eyes catch sight of the cigarette case he placed on the bartop; the embossed design glinted under the lighting. “It’s a family insignia,” he explains, pushing it towards you.

You pick it up, your finger trailing the dragon design. “This is in the mural in the lobby,” you muss and he nods. There is a satisfying click when you open it and the waft of cinnamon reaches your nose, which crinkles with your smile. “Clove cigarettes?” You cannot help but giggle with the discovery.

He narrows his gaze on you, but his lips are still curled upwards as he leans over to take it from your hands. “It is my guilty pleasure, a treat when the semester ends,” he closes it.

“We all deserve a guilty pleasure,” you agree, your attention falling to the empty glass in front of you. “I will have to ask for one, though,” you gestured towards the case. “I feel I need to indulge just a bit more, on this night in particular.”

Aemond stands up and pulls your chair back, his hand offered to you so you can find your balance on your heels. You look up at him through your eyelashes and notice that even with your heel, he is taller still.

He is gentle to take your hand in his own, his other hand on your lower back to guide you as you weave through the few patrons and staff. You eventually slip through a threshold that leads out to a secluded balcony that is decorated with lights, giving a golden hue.

With the approach of spring, the night air is crisp and you wrap your arms around yourself and your thin cardigan. “Oh, this view,” you cannot help but smile, despite your shiver.

Aemond hums his agreement, pulling off his dress jacket and handing it to you. You try to decline, but he insists, “I run warm. It’s a family trait.”

You pull it on, engulfed in the fine fabric and his scent, a mixture of clean laundry with an expensive cologne. He walked towards the ornate balustrade that stems around the balcony and leaned his elbows on top; you followed him, the soft clicks of your heels on the stone and rested on his visible side, peering out towards King’s Landing.

He pulled out the case and retrieved a black clove cigarette, lighting it and passing it to you, smoke pouring from his smile as your fingertips touch to take it. The drag is a mixture of the best and worst feeling; you allow your exhale to snake over your features and lick your lips to taste the cinnamon on them. “I haven’t had one of these,” you blush again. “It has been a while, but thank you, this is just what I wanted.”

You watch him pull another and balance it between his lips. Wordless, you tuck yours into the corner of your mouth and place your hands to cup the flame as he lights it. With his exhale, he says, “Thank you.”

The silence allows a moment to enjoy the city bustle below, but the sound of him clearing his throat brings you back to the balcony. “What about you?” You tilt your head to look at him, your brow quirked and he clarifies, “I had answered your questions and shared about my interests outside of my degree, but what about you and your passions?”

You take another drag to mull over your reply. “Perhaps teaching is my passion,” you reply, your brow raised at him.

He hums a moment. “I don’t think so,” his voice is so low that you need to turn to hear him, facing him and leaning one elbow on the bannister. His brow is cocked and his perpetual smirk playing on his lips. “I saw passion when you were focused on your notebook earlier, you had a glow with your penning.” Aemond blows the smoke above his head, “You do not have that same expression with your lectures.”

You turn away and focus straight ahead, hoping the city lights would wash away the embarrassment that rushed to your cheeks. He makes almost an aha noise and steps closer towards you, peering at you. “I am correct about your passion outside of your teaching,” his tone is teasing.

“Well, yes,” your mind is buzzing from the wine, the cigarette amplifying it ever-so-slightly. He graduates after the spring, you reason and then decide to share, “I enjoy writing.”

This confession breaks the levy and your passion spills as you babble about your love for science fiction and how your interests were piqued by the classics like Ray Bradbury and Kurt Vonnegut, plus his pseudonym. Then you stop, your hand covering your mouth. “Sorry, I am rambling,” you blush again.

“It’s cute,” he encourages. “Please, continue.”

You sigh. “Unfortunately, there isn’t much else to add. Science fiction does not have the same audience it once did and it definitely isn’t what sells as far as digital books,” you finish with a grim smile. “What sells then?”

You focus your eyes on him and cannot stop the fit of giggles that spill from your lips; he peers at you, his cheeks dimpling with a pursed smile of his own. “Smut, mostly,” you confess and he chuckles. “It is all,” you wave your hand flippantly, “porn with plot and I happen to have a knack for it. Plus, I am very fond of the residual income from my sales,” you finish your cigarette.

“A knack for it?” His tone is still low and he flicks his own cigarette over the edge. “Like, the ability to incorporate it into any situation…?”

“I mean, within reason,” you are unable to hold his gaze, feeling almost childish in his large jacket, your fingertips playing with the button stance. “It depends on the ratio of porn to plot, really. It kind of comes down to a science with the method.”

“Oh?” He sounds amused and shifts himself, edging closer still, his gaze still locked on your face. “Enlighten me.”

“Well,” you hem for your words, your wine-addled brain unable to stop them from leaving your mouth. “Obviously, as a writer, you wish to set the scene for your reader, the build-up to the moment, but you also don’t want clutter it so much when they are obviously looking for one thing-”

Your words are stopped by the soft press of his lips to your own, his hands covering your hold on his jacket and bringing you against his chest. Your eyes widen for a moment before you relax against him, enjoying his taste, the mixture of clove cinnamon, smoke, and whatever whiskey he had at the bar.

His large hands move to your hips, pulling you closer with a soft squeeze and you moan into the kiss, your fingers curling around the back of his neck and tangling in his hair. Aemond presses against you and your back against the bannister; you can feel him through his dress slacks, your own body betraying you by the warmth pooling between your thighs.

“Wait, wait,” you break the kiss, your eyes wide again and looking him over.

The pupil of his eye is blown, almost black with his stare, and his lips curl upwards. “We should do this somewhere else,” he suggests, his tone velvet. “Take me home?”

You bite your bottom lip with your pregnant pause before nodding. You feel his finger curl beneath your chin, tilting your head to meet with his gaze. “I require verbal consent,” his tone still teasing you.

“Yes,” you say, your cheeks are red, and his usual stoic expression brightens slightly. He takes your hand into his and you follow, Aemond pulling his phone and texting, his grasp tight as he helps you down the stairs. You avoid the looks of the staff and follow him to exit the restaurant.

Out front is some black luxury car idling and Aemond moved to open the door for you, helping you seat yourself before closing the door and walking to the other side. Your eyes burn into the back of the driver’s seat, who turns and offers a smile, asking for your address before he closes the partition.

You can feel the shift in the back seat as Aemond sits next to you, his expression unreadable once again. A beat of silence follows as the car begins to drive and only then does your liquid courage take its hold. You reach to pull him towards you and his mouth finds yours. His lips are so soft, so warm against your own, his tongue moving into your mouth and yours meeting with his languid movements to continue to taste him.

He pulls you to straddle his lap, your dress bunching around your hips and his large palms are warm as they grab into the softness of your thighs, pulling you slow to grind against the growing bulge of his pants. A soft moan spills from your lips with the pressure and his mouth falls to your chest, his tongue following your clavicle and closing on the junction of your shoulder to your neck. You mewl when you feel his teeth bite into you, moving your hips against him which elicited a guttural groan from the back of his throat.

You had forgotten how much fun kissing could be, the intimacy of hands pawing with purpose and the soft pants from the passion. The car stops and when you realize it is parked in front of your apartment building; you break the kiss and fall into your seat, your hands moving to righten your skirt.

Another beat of silence follows and he finally says, “Is this your place?” His voice is gentle.

You nod your head yes, you mind whirring with what had unfolded this evening and your eyes falling to his hands; you watched his slender fingers slowly drum the leather seat between before moving to palm your hand, his thumb gentle to run the length of your knuckles and back. “Nothing more needs to happen,” he offered you an escape. “But could I ask for a kiss goodnight?”

Your eyes lock onto his, your tongue wetting your lips and leaning to find his mouth once more. His lips fit so perfect against your own, his tongue trailing your bottom lip with a soft nip before he pulls back.

You open the car door and climb out, hearing him shift in his seat to lean forward. “Goodnight, professor-”

But you turn on your heel, leaning over and well aware of your cleavage in this little black dress you wore tonight. “Aemond,” your eyes rest on his face, your cheeks growing warm once again. “Would you like to come up?”

With the familiar curl of his lips, he tells the driver to go home. He pulled himself from his seat and reached again for your hand. Your cheeks burn with the feeling of how your hand fits in his own and you lead him inside.

#hazy shades of spring #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x female!reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #hotd fanfic #modern aemond #there will be a part 2 #for the smutty stuff #thanks for reading #♥

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siancore · 1 month

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Okay, so everyone’s written amazing meta about TOWL 1.04. The emotion and angst. Perfection. Let me just add to the conversation: The Richonne sex scene was like something out of Richonne fanfiction. This is a bit explicit, so read at your own discretion.

Now, where was I? Oh yeah, so not like fanfiction in that it was unbelievable or anything like that. No, it was just like we Richonne fic writers envisioned and have written a hundred times. Specifically the point where Rick flips them and is planted between Michonne’s thighs. You can tell the exact moment in the scene where Rick (having slipped out) slides himself back inside of Michonne because:

1. Rick’s eyes roll shut

2. Michonne digs her nails into his shoulder

Lord help I’ve written their love scenes like that so many times, it’s surreal to see it on our screens. Surreal and beautiful 😍 Thank you, DG ❤️

#richonne #towl spoilers #Richonne smutty stuff

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m00nc4kes · 5 months

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R A H I’m still working on ily pt2 but like i can’t get potter! Hobie outta my head. Like IMAGINE WITH ME IF YOU WILL

he runs his own little shop where he spends his days working with clay and selling his pieces.

YOU, on the other hand, were someone who fell in love with pottery in high school but was unable to pursue it in the real world. Life sucked that way. Anyway, you stumble onto this little shop and absolutely fell in love with the art pieces you saw.

There were vases, mugs, plates— anything you could think of. The door had a bell that rang as soon as you walked in. It didn’t take long for the most gorgeous man you’d ever laid eyes on to walk out from the back, covered in clay. He adorned piercings that brought out his already beautiful features and dark nail polish, which you could see was caked in dried clay. He gave you a toothy grin and you knew you were completely head over heels.

You ask if he teaches classes to which he sighs and says he doesn’t really have enough space to teach people. Ofc he sees how disappointed you are and says he doesn’t mind just teaching you.

DO YOU SEE MY VISON⁉️

HHHHHHHH JUST JUST AAAAAAAAAHHH THE POTENTIAL

(smutty/suggestive info down below)

imagine him fucking you in the back and the bell from the door rings and he just clicks his tongue. Because out of all times someone decides to come in, it’s when he’s busy with you. He covers your mouth because it’s a little unprofessional to be fucking his little peng ting in his shop in the first place. He really doesn’t want to pull out of you, especially with how gorgeous you looked under him, but alas he had a business to run.

He tries not to make it a habit of taking you in his shop, but you don’t make it easy for him. Always being so sweet to him, telling him that you loved how easy he made pottery look. You complimented his handiwork whenever you could, absolutely amazed at how precise he was when he was detailing his pieces. But you were cheeky. Telling him how well he worked with his hands and how you wouldn’t mind if his hands somehow found their way on your body or securely around your throat. You told him this whenever you could. How could anyone expect him not to do what was so pleasantly asked of him?

In your defense, you couldn’t help it. Watching how he could be delicate with the clay yet so in control when he was sat at his wheel. God, watching him wedge large chunks of clay with such precision and strength made your face set aflame.

You just liked men who were good with their hands and by god, Hobie was an expert with them.

#hobie x reader #hobie x black!reader #pottery au #hobie brown #atsv #but like obviously i have an idea to make it smutty #because i’m growing as a writer #CACKLES #m00n's stuff #writing #smut

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stvharrngton · 2 years

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lover’s lake

a/n: this is actually based off of a post but i cannot find it for the life of me 😭 also the ending SUCKS hard i’m so sorry

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, unprotected sex, fingering, cursing, a bit of sub!steve if you squint hard enough

summary: car sex with steve at lover’s lake. that’s it <3

“Lover’s Lake?”

“What’s wrong with Lover’s Lake?” Steve asked, quirking his eyebrows at you.

“Nothing! I-“ but he cut you off before you could finish.

“Come on, babe, it’s romantic!” Steve chuckled, pulling the car into the clearing in front of the body of water.

“Steve,” you scoffed, “Lover’s Lake is not romantic,” you glared at him now, “bet you’ve brought all your girlfriends here!”

“What- No!” the boy was flushed, face hot and voice squeaking, “I haven’t, baby, promise.”

You rolled your eyes giggling at him and his rambling. You feigned annoyance, arms crossed and eyes staring out at the water before you.

Despite the reputation that came with it, Lover’s Lake was beautiful at night. The reflection of the moon and stars in the clear night sky skittered across the lake. The air cool and serene, the lake still and tranquil.

“I thought we could stargaze on the hood and cuddle,” Steve’s hand came to rub at the back of his neck, “I’ll turn around if you want.”

Your gaze softened at that, you turned to face him, eyes greeted with the slight pout he wore on his lips, fingers drumming on the steering wheel.

“No,” voice soft and quiet, a whisper above the radio, “let’s stay. I wanna stay, Stevie.”

He swiveled in his seat to turn to you now, leaning across the centre console, “Yeah?” he asked.

You met him half way, a twinkle in your eye, a smirk on his lips, “Yeah.” you replied, closing the gap between you.

The tip of his nose brushed along the slope of your own, his lips capturing yours in a sweet kiss. You sighed into the kiss, the sweet taste of the milkshake you shared at the diner lingered, the smell of his cologne, mint and cedar and Steve consuming you.

Your hand rested on his thigh, the rough of his denim beneath the pads of your fingers. Steve’s fingers came to trace featherlight down the side of your face, thumb brushing across your cheek so he could deepen the kiss.

And you let him. Tongue swiping over your bottom lip, swirling with your own. You pawed at his chest, desperate, needy, fisting his polo to bring him closer to you.

Steve chuckled, only breaking this kiss to speak, “Whaddya want, baby, hm?” fingers brushing your hair from your face, nose skirting along your jaw.

Steve was addicting. Like nothing you had ever known before. It was infatuating. You longed to have him on you in any way, his touch warm and lips electrifying. Your mind raced with Steve Steve Steve.

Would you call fucking in the backseat at Lover’s Lake a total cliche? Absolutely. But were you about to deny yourself the feeling of being wrapped around the boy across from you? Definitely not.

And so you answered, “You, Steve,” you breathed as he buried himself in the soft skin of your neck, a kiss, a nip, “want you.”

He hummed against your neck, lips pressing soft kisses to your collarbone, “Backseat?” he asked.

You nodded in response as he tore himself away from you, a tangle of limbs as he clambered into the back of the infamous BMW.

“C’mere,” Steve cooed, arms outstretched for you to join him.

And so you followed, landing in his lap. Thighs either side of his own and the feeling of his jeans under your lace covered core made you so glad you decided to wear a skirt tonight.

Steve arms circled your waist, caging you to him. A little squeeze, a little pull that encouraged you to roll your hips over his own, a gasp leaving your lips at the sensation. You cupped his cheeks now, fingers delving into his wild hair, pressing your lips back him.

The kiss was as needy as you felt, as messy and sloppy as the movements of your hips. Tongues melding together, spit mixing as you licked into each other. The boy beneath you groaned as you took his bottom lip between your teeth, a gentle pull.

Your hips never faltered, a whimper falling from your lips as the seam of Steve’s jeans brushed over your clit just right. The coil in your stomach tightening as his hands toyed with your tits over the thin cotton of your shirt, nipples stiff and waiting.

“Steve,” you whined, as he mouthed at your right bud over the material. Fingertips skirting underneath, his touch hot and burning into your skin. You stilled for a moment to remove the barrier between Steve’s lips and your skin, throwing it to the floor.

“Shit,” he moaned lowly, hands held around your ribs, thumbs smoothing under the skin below your breasts.

“You too,” you hushed, hands pulling at the hem of his shirt. Steve chuckled but did as you said, throwing his polo to the floor to join yours.

“Love this skirt on you baby, so fuckin’ pretty,” hunger evident in Steve’s voice, a low rasp that went straight to your pussy. His hands dipped underneath the pleats to find the flesh of your ass, rough palm delivering a delicate smack that sounded throughout the car.

You mewled above him, cheeks flushed and tinted pink as you braced your hands on his chest, fingernails digging through the taut muscle.

“Steve,” you whined again, desperate. Your body overwhelmed with desire, skin tingling and thighs clenching beside his own. You felt your arousal poole at your core, sticky slick coating the lace between your legs.

“Lean back for me sweetheart,” a soft kiss to your lips, “against the seat, good girl.”

Steve pushed the material of your skirt up your stomach, his fingers hooking under the waistband of your underwear, letting the elastic snap back against your soft skin. You whimpered as his fingers traveled lower, rubbing soft circles against your clit over the pink lace.

Your back arched at the feeling, he was so close to where you wanted him, where you needed him. Steve hummed against your chest, teeth grazing and sucking at your supple skin, creating a mark that no one else would see.

“Please, baby,” you cried.

No retort, no warning as Steve pulled your underwear to the side, slipping his fingers between your folds. You both groaned at the feeling, your cunt sopping wet and waiting.

“You’re soaking, Christ,” his rough pads teased your hole, “so sweet, baby” he gushed as he began to pump in and out of you lazily.

Steve curled his fingers into you, brushing your walls and hitting your favourite spot with every stroke. Whines and pants tumbled past your lips with every pump of his fingers, thumb moving harshly against your clit, the wet sounds powering over the low hum of the radio.

“Fuck, Steve, I’m-“ you babbled, hips rutting, fucking yourself on Steve’s fingers.

“You gonna cum, huh, sweet girl?” his fingers never slowed, thumb on your bundle unrelenting as he sought to push you over the edge, “I got you.” he cooed.

You cried above him, chants of the boy’s name over and over falling past your lips as the pleasure hit you like a wave, crashing over you. It was music to Steve’s ears. He’d have you like this all hours of the day if you let him, eyes squeezed tight and those pretty sounds escaping you.

“That’s it, baby,” Steve hushed you, pressing sweet kisses to your neck, his fingers still inside you, “good girl, good fucking girl.”

Eyes rolling to the back of your head, chest heaving, hips stuttering. Your forehead sticky with sweat as you clung onto Steve’s frame.

His fingers left you, a whine at the loss. They gripped your thigh, squeezing at the bare flesh there. The tip of his nose edging along your jaw, a gentle and soft gesture.

“You good?” voice a notch higher than a whisper, a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

You nodded, a shaky exhale falling from your lips. You felt Steve smile against your skin, his fingers toying with the hem of your skirt, taunting, teasing.

His free hand came to grasp your chin between his thumb and finger, soft lips brushing against your own.

“You gonna sit on this cock, baby, hm?” a kiss, “Let me fill you up nice and deep?” tongue licking across your bottom lip, “Please, angel, need to feel you.”

Your thighs clenched at Steve’s words, his begging making your pussy throb, “Yes, Steve, fuck.” you whined, fingers scrambling to unbutton his jeans.

He groaned at your urgency, his fingers prodding your shaky ones out of the way as he shoved his jeans and boxers down past his ass and knees so they would sit around his calves. Cock springing free, Steve hissed as your fingers ghosted along his length.

“Fuck,” he moaned, “c’mere,” his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling your chest flush against him. Steve kissed you now, it was soft and sweet, lips gently melding together. His hand came to wrap around himself as he teased the pretty pink tip through your folds.

Steve lined himself up with your entrance, a squeeze to your waist encouraging you to sink down on him. You did, eyes squeezed shut at the stretch. Steve gripped your hips like his life depended on it, groaning, “Oh, fuck.”

You began to move your hips slowly, a lazy drag over his cock over and over. His head lay back against the seat, hair a little wild, eyes heavy and gaze hungry. He looked like pure sex, you thought, so fucking dreamy.

Rocking your hips a little faster now, your moans stifled by your teeth digging into your bottom lip. You bounced your ass the way you knew he liked, the way you knew would drive him crazy. The boy whined beneath you, his hands smoothing over the curve of your ass.

“Pussy feels so fucking good baby,” he moaned breathlessly, “take me so well.”

Your heart fluttered at the praise, the wet slap of your cunt around Steve’s cock growing in pace. The windows of the car steamed up now, the BMW rocking with every snap of your hips.

You keened above him, fingers tugging at his hair relentlessly, lips searching for his in a messy kiss in the bright of the moonlight. His tongue slipped past yours, swallowing each other’s gasps and moans every time his thick cock stroked at your favourite spot.

Steve’s fingers wrapped at the base of your throat before dancing across the soft skin of your tits, a pinch of your bud, a whine from your lips. They found your swollen clit between your legs, throbbing and sensitive. His fingers rubbed in circles at the nerves, drawing a soft whimper from you at the overwhelming sensation.

His gaze was trained on the glow on your face, skin a little shiny, cheeks a little pink, lips kiss-bitten and red. “Need you to cum for me, sweetheart,” a kiss to the shell of your ear, “shit, can you give me one more?” his voice low and raspy in your ear.

“Yes, baby, yes,” you cried, hips bouncing harder, fingers pulling at the boy’s hair now, “make me cum, Stevie. Feels so good.”

“Fuck,” Steve groaned, his body in a frenzy, his fingers unrelenting on your clit now, “so fuckin’ gorgeous, so pretty.” he mumbled to himself almost incoherently.

You felt the familiar feeling of your coil twisting and snapping, the wave of pleasure crashing over you as your pussy clenched around him and your thighs shook. Strings of curses fell from your lips, your vision starry as your features twisted with pleasure.

Steve was hanging on by a thread, his fingers pressing a bruising grip into your waist, your moans and whimpers going straight to his dick. Your hips slowed as you collapsed into him, your tits pressing against the ringlets of his chest hair.

He bottomed out below you, hips now fucking up into you with vigour. The sound of his thighs slapping up against your ass filled the car and Steve was a picture. Head lulled back as his adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, lips parted in such a pretty way, his muscles tense as he fucked you.

“Baby, please,” be began, “please can I cum? Oh, please can I cum,” Steve whined below you, “need to fill this pretty pussy so bad, baby, please?” he begged.

You pressed soft kisses to the skin of his throat, one planted to every mole and freckle, before settling on his lips again. You spoke into the kiss, “Want it, Steve,” you breathed, “go ahead, cum.”

The boy groaned beneath you, his thrusts erratic and deep, thighs and the muscles of his abdomen tensing as he reached his high. His cock drained of everything he had to give you, little whines of please and thank you tumbled past his lips. Chest heaving and forehead slick with sweat.

You both stayed still for a while, your head resting on his shoulder, nose nudging at the skin of his neck. His hand rubbed up and down your bare back soothingly, the other petted at your hair.

Neither of you bothered to move, Steve’s softening cock still buried inside you, the mixture of your juices running down his shaft. You both basked in your post orgasm bliss.

You shifted in his lap, delicate fingers messing with the strands of his hair that found themselves at the nape of his neck. You gazed up at your boyfriend, eyes bright and hopeful.

“Can we look at the stars now?”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #k.fic #i can’t stop writing about fucking this man im sorry #honestly im trying to write non smutty stuff but i just CANT DHSJSK

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esha-isboogara · 2 years

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nsfw headcanons ii ➪ aki and denji

my other csm headcanons blew tf up !!? what is even happening rn thank all y’all for the support. here’s part two bc like why not

denji ♡

- call him a good boy y/n please ? he will absolutely melt. especially during sex, you giving him that praise motivates him to keep going.

- really good at giving head tbh. who knows here he learned to use his tongue like that but at this point who’s complaining ? sure as hell not you.

-he’s never tried pegging but he’s be so fuckinf down for it. you’d have to bring it up though he’s much to embarrassed to say anything first.

-food is the way to this man’s heart. incorporate things like whipped cream, chocolate sauce and other sweet things and that gives him even more of an incentive.

-a mixture of degrading and praise in the bed room. you have to keep it dynamic. call him a naughty boy and right after tell him how well he did and what a good job he’s doing.

-he’s a good puppy for you :) he’ll wear a collar and walk on a leash just for you. feed the boy and give him water and he’s your personal slutty puppy

-pretends to be stubborn but isn’t. it takes a few coaxing words to get him to do what you want. call him a simp or whatever you want this man is whipped.

aki ♡

- pull his hair while he eats you out..he finds it so hot. or just intertwine your hands in his hair <3

-has a power indifference kink for SURE! don’t call him daddy though- it makes him cringe. instead call him sir or your highness. that’ll get him fucking going in a second.

- aki is a man of many secrets and one of them is he loves when you cosplay for him. dress up in a short/skimpy get up and show it off for him. there’s a good chance you’ll be fucked into the mattress in .5 seconds.

-knows a woman’s anatomy shockingly well. he knows all the right spots to hit and he is more than willing to teach you ways to please yourself.

-giving him head while he reads>>>

-there’s a plethora of ‘i missed you’ sex happening in this relationship. since aki is away so often when he comes back the first thing the two of you do is get a good fuck it. maybe a few rounds if he’s up for it.

-slow sleepy sex happens a lot too. the poor man’s works himself half to death quite literally so let him half heartedly fuck you while he’s practically asleep.

-kind of wants to try role play. he’s not sure how to get into it without being a weirdo but he knows he’s fucking into it.

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celerydays · 5 months

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December means that I panic and buy/set up a whole new planner I wasn’t originally intending to for the new year 🥴

#its been a minute since i posted one of my journals or planners lol #too much smutty fanart on the brain lately #with that said my work needs to stop asking things of me around the holiday season #how am i supposed to brainrot if im forced to do stuff and think!!! 😩🫠#filofax #journal #journaling #notebooks #fountain pen #planner #bullet journal #bujo inspo #cel journals #celerydays

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delta-piscium · 10 months

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okay well I’m hearing you all loud and clear about this and will go write my smut, for now though have a very short snippet of the hand holding one (I’ve posted an even shorter bit before if you recognize it)

mild nsfw under the cut:

And it’s such a mistake, Eddie thinks as Steve pushes him down into his bed and intertwines their hands. Fucks into him slowly and deeply. Has Eddie gasping and grasping for him, holding on tighter. Has him seeing stars.

It’s such a mistake because Steve Harrington doesn’t make it quick and dirty, he doesn’t push Eddie’s face away and into the pillows to chase his own pleasure.

No, Steve makes love and Eddie can’t.

He can’t.

But, oh god he is.

He’s meeting every thrust, urging Steve deeper, deeper, deeper. Holds onto his hands like a lifeline and he’s so gone and he never stood a chance.

#there will be more smutty smut and stuff and just yeah this fic I’m unsure of some of it and what to do but absolutely certain about the #smut and Steve and Eddie’s feelings about it and why they do it and yeah that I know what I’m doing with #but I guess I’ll have to go write and figure out more #actually I’d forgotten how excited I was about this #my writing #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #dels steddie thoughts

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bloodfreakcastiel · 9 months

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frothing at the mouth

#mine #the priest kink is strong today #i gotta read some smutty destiel priest stuff #who said that #misha posting #misha collins #*pic

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ya-boi-haru · 4 days

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You what, screw it,

Nsfw/spicy version of this Kaleidoscope post I made (linked)

(Mdni)

This could also be a continuation of that post?

I'm also probs too Ace to be doing this, but here we go😂

• this also follows the concept they're hook up buddies/ friends with benefits (however you want to call it)

• Q & M have had the occasional make-out sessions. They're new to it, and it's just what they do on occasion, cause they can.

• However, M has picked up that Q never takes things too far. M doesn't push on it and just goes at the pace Q is comfortable with.

• One night - and a couple of drinks later - they're at it again, and M starts getting a little handsy. Her hands start to trace under Qs shirt, but he doesn't get too far cause Quixis flinches and moves his hand away.

• Malitae immediately stops and starts to check in with Quixis.

• Quixis hesitantly explains that the scaring isn't just on their hands, it continues in patches all over their body and its just not a pretty sight. They know they shouldn't be ashamed of them, but they can't help it sometimes.

• Malitae asks if Quixis is ok showing them and Quixis just nods. They only undo half the buttons to show Malitae a little bit and M starts to gently trace over the scaring, telling Quixis how they're not an eye sore and ensuring that they're beautiful as they are.

• And then cue my other headcannon about M having a Body worship and Marking kink~

#that one stereotype of aces creating the smutty stuff /j/j #mdni #i love them your honour #so soft!#fable smp #fablesmpblr #fable smp kaleidoscope

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lord-overlips · 3 months

Note

Rodimus is squinting but he slips a little note into Overlords texts.

:: This uh. Menu for real?:: He has a curiosity. And- interest.

Oh! His first customer! How exciting!

::It is, dearest! Why... is there something that takes your fancy? Please don't be shy!::

#bear with I havent decided yet if this is an au or... what. just an excuse to write cute and smutty stuff really lol XD #lord-overlips #flameofprimus

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bloodlustngore · 9 months

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Relax a little

Jill Valentine x fem!reader

Okay I’m so sorry I haven’t uploaded anything in so long & I should really check my inbox I know, but I’ve had writers block for months now & nothing has been helping me that & the fact I have no motivation & I’ve been too busy with my career n shit.

As an apology I wrote a (very likely to be shitty) Jill Valentine smut. Sorry if it’s awful, I just have no motivation for writing much anymore atm :/

This is also only like 800 words or something bcos I couldn’t think of anything more kinda rushed it bcos I wanted to get this out as soon as possible!

This is 18+ only! Minors dni

When Jill got home you couldn't stand to see her pacing around in front of you mentioning all the reasons why she came home so stressed out. With everything that has happened to her over the years you fully understood, and you hated seeing her like this.

So, you stood up and placed your hands on her shoulders so that she stopped pacing. Turned her around and sat her down on the couch, "Y/n? What?" Jill questioned, confused. Until she saw a specific look in your eyes, she lent back on the couch and looked up at you.

"You need to relax, babe. I hate seeing you like this." You mentioned. You decided to sit on your girlfriends lap, and Jill didn't protest to that at all. Her arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to her on her lap.

"Oh yeah? And how will you do that Y/n?" Jill chuckled, basically daring you to do exactly what you were thinking because the brunette knew what you were thinking.

"Don't get shy on me now baby" Jill chuckled.

You decided not to waste anymore time, crashing your lips against Jill' with such passion and such need. The brunette gripped your hips quite harshly which you let out a gasp to and she slipped her tongue between your teeth. "Hey I'm supposed to be making you relax Jill" you chuckled into the kiss.

"I'm very relaxed right now, I just like taking charge" the brunette added.

"I know, just let go of some of it okay? For me?" You pleaded, Jill let out a sigh but resumed the kiss and this time you took charge of it, moving from her lips, to her jaw and finally her neck. Jill tilted her head back against the couch and gave you more access, a particular spot on her neck that was sensitive as you nipped at it leaving a mark Jill let out a quite groan "Y/n" she whispered your name.

Your hands tucked at Jill' tank top, she helped you strip it off her and that just left the brunette woman in her bra and jeans. You kissed her collarbone as your hands worked to undo her bra. Kissing between the valley of her breasts until you finally stopped teasing taking a breast into your mouth, whilst your hand toyed with her other.

"Fuck Y/n" Jill breathed out quietly. At this point you had to climb off of Jills lap and kneel between the brunettes legs Jill looked down at you with such lust in her eyes. She was so impatient that she began undoing her jeans herself. Your hands stopped her though as you undid her jeans yourself, pulling them down and just leaving the brunette in her panties.

You kissed her inner thighs, leaving little marks from nipping at the skin "Y/n stop teasing or I'll punish you" Jill threatened.

"Whatever you say” although you wanted to tease her a lot more.

"Good girl. Now be good for me and stop teasing" you couldn't refuse, the praise kink in you had jumped out and you had to show Jill just how much of a good girl for her you can be. Wanting nothing more than to please your girlfriend. Not to mention the ache between your legs grew stronger when she called you a 'good girl'.

You chuckled at the wet patch that formed on her panties, putting the hem of them in your mouth and pulling them down with your teeth. Jill watched you with a smirk on her face. "That was so hot, Y/n" Jill moaned at at the sight. You knelt between Jill' legs again this time putting her legs over your shoulder.

You kissed Jill' clit and felt Jill shudder under her touch and then began to eat your girlfriend out, starting slowly until you felt Jill grip your hair and her thighs clenched.

"Fuck Y/n faster" Jill moaned out. You teased her drenched pussy with two of your fingers collecting as much of her juices as you could then finally entering two fingers into her pussy. "Oh! Fuck!" Jill almost screamed at that.

Setting a fast pace, as you sucked at her clit, Jill gripped your hair even tighter as she lent forward, pushing your face harder into her pussy. "Right there baby don't stop!" Jill moaned.

You sucked at her clit even harder "oh god I'm gonna cum" Jill breathed out.

"Y/n" and one last suck to her clit and thrust of your fingers, Jill came all over your fingers and mouth, prolonging her orgasm until she pushed your head away, her thighs clenching still as she slumped back down on the couch.

"Jill look at me" you mentioned, the brunette met your gaze and watched as you put your fingers coated in her cum into your mouth, cleaning them up. "God, Y/n you're amazing" Jill chuckled still trying to catch her breath a bit more.

"Now baby get up here because you deserve a treat" Jill mentioned "strip for me, Y/n" she added.

Oh, you were in for a good night.

#jill valentine x reader #jill valentine x fem!reader #smut #smutty #emi writes stuff #this one was awful #jill valentine #bi jill valentine

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