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#and the clothing folds + his hair was so fun to draw
grasswaves · 2 years
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i’m looking. respectfully
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bunnysbrainrot · 6 months
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Keep Watching
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Kinktober prompt: Reverse Cowgirl
Relationship: Sam Winchester x Reader
Content: Explicit sexual scenes, degradation, (lowkey) breeding kink, creampie (wrap it up), unprotected p in v, slight dom/sub vibes goin on.
Summary: It’s movie night, but you and Sam become focused on another matter. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to pose a challenge for you. Can you be good, and pay attention?
A/N: ….. have fun! 😃
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“Babe, you wanted to watch a movie, and you’re not even looking at the TV,” Sam’s voice hushed. Your lips had found his throat, kissing along the tender skin and erupting reddish purple marks toward his ear.
His hair could cover them, you thought, still marking your claim across his skin.
You murmured into his neck, “But you’re so pretty. And, you’re right here.”
Sam rolled his eyes playfully before his hands gripped your waist when your tongue laid a thick stripe up the length of his throat. He stifled a groan as he tried his best to focus on the television.
“Should we turn the TV off, then? We can watch it after,” he offered, his hands wandering toward the hem of your shirt.
“No, I wanna watch it,” you whined, “It’s movie night, Sammy.”
Sam planted a kiss on your temple, smiling at the sweet nickname you’d started using for him. Aside from Dean, not many people called him that name, but Sam adored it - the way his name rolled over your tongue in a tone as sweet as sugar.
“Part of movie night, unfortunately, includes paying attention.”
Alone in the room together, you’d ditched any sort of undergarments, as well as your pants. Sam only sported a pair of boxer shorts, neglecting a t-shirt like usual. Sam would’ve been able to hold himself together if the situation were different, if you had covered your ass and tempting thighs, their supple warmth begging to be held.
You sat up and threw a leg over his hips, straddling his lap while the TV still blared in the background. Sam’s hands naturally found your thighs, his thumbs idly drawing circles on your skin. Underneath you, you could feel him growing hard against your core.
“Is that all it took?” you teased, grinding gently against his growing erection. Sam looked you over coolly and arched an eyebrow at you.
“You’re the one with no underwear. Plus, this-,” he patted your thigh, “is not helping much.”
You smiled proudly at him, beaming ear to ear at the success you’d achieved by ruffling his feathers a bit. The downside of your teasing was that you’d gotten turned on in the process, now with a warm slickness that seeped into the fabric of Sam’s boxers. Sam let out a low groan at the added warmth, a direct sign of what this had done to you.
Lifting your shirt over your head, you now laid completely bare for him, your full breasts now on display. Sam trailed a finger from each hand up your thighs and over your tummy, right up to your tits, pinching each nipple with a careful hand.
Sam rolled your nipples between his rough fingers, drawing a soft moan from you, breathing out his name like a prayer, a precious word you’d only whisper like this if he could hear it. You ground your aching sex against his clothed cock, nestling his shaft between your folds.
“Sam… I need,” you mewled, “more. Please.”
He happily obliged your request, realizing that he was also too eager to wait. A thought sparked in his mind - one that would keep you attentive while also keeping it challenging, simply to test your endurance.
Sam sat up and nestled his head in the crook of your neck, while his hands moved to your ass, kneading the soft flesh around your hips.
“Turn around, we’re still gonna watch the movie,” ordered Sam, his warm breath skirting across your skin.
You obeyed him, pulling your leg off of his lap and shifting around to face the TV. To your side, Sam hooked his fingers in the waistband of his boxers, sliding them down and off of his legs. His thick cock sprang free from the confines and slapped heavily against his belly.
“C’mon,” he patted his lap, where his cock twitched eagerly, inviting you over, “we’re gonna try something.”
Throwing your leg back over his hips, Sam held you above his length, keeping you on your knees while he positioned himself. His grip on your hip tightened as he urged you down, slowly lowering until his cock pressed against your drenched folds. With another push the head of his cock eased into you, every glorious inch of him following behind.
It didn’t matter how many times you’d done this - you adjusted to Sam’s size like it was the very first time. To him, you were always beautifully tight and warm, accommodating his thick cock perfectly.
He loved the sweet noises you made when he entered you. He could feel the way you tensed and flexed around his shaft, urging your pussy to stretch wider. It usually took a few minutes to adjust if you hadn’t engaged in foreplay, like tonight.
Normally he’d be loosening you up with his fingers, singing your praises as you came onto each digit. He would alternate his pace with those curling fingers, leaving you hollowed out, excavated by his eager hands.
It wouldn’t be enough for Sam until his fingers were completely soaked, when the pads of his fingers wrinkled and you were muttering dumbly under his spell.
But now he was filling you - his sheer girth splitting you open served as an immediate reminder. Your soft walls moved around him, pulling him in further until he head of his cock pushed against your cervix. Sam hissed through gritted teeth when he bottomed out full hilt into you.
Ahead of you, the TV played the movie you’d chosen, but its plot escaped you. All thought you tried to follow disappeared into an empty space in the back of your mind. This fucking movie didn’t matter, all that mattered was him. Sam Winchester.
Sam Winchester, who was actively bucking his hips into yours, nestling his cock into your tight cunt.
Sam Winchester, who playfully urged you to ‘watch the TV’ and ‘pay attention’.
“You’re a good girl, you can do it.”
You breathed shakily as he moved, jutting his hips up to strike deeper. You were impossibly full of him, with that wonderful girth stretching out your wet hole.
“I… I can’t. Sammy, I can’t… hah… keep going on like this,” you pleaded softly.
“Already? No, I’m sure you can do it, honey,” Sam replied, landing a slap to your ass. You let out a yelp, ignored by Sam.
After all, you wanted to have movie night.
He tugged your hips back, and pushed them forward, shooting that entrancing pleasure through every inch he filled. You shuddered around him and took his guided motions as your own. The motions were minute and gentle, grinding yourself onto his length and feeling the friction of your clit against his base.
Sam’s casual demeanor both shocked and frustrated you. Usually he would be falling apart as easily as you did, but this time he remained cool.
“Keep paying attention,” Sam reiterated, pulling you onto him harder this time. You cried out, but kept your pace, starting to bounce yourself along his length.
“Attagirl, just like that. Fuck yourself on my cock.”
His hands lifted you higher and pulled you down harsher than before.
“Bounce.”
With shaky breaths you obliged him, straining your shaky thighs to bounce on Sam’s cock. He hummed, satisfied, at the display in front of him. His thick cock stretching you wide at the thicker middle of his shaft, and the way your eager pussy swallowed him into your warm walls, flexing around him as you fought off your first orgasm.
“Sammy… I’m gonna… fuck… I’m gonna-“
“I know, honey, go on. Cum for me,” he urged, bucking into you once again, “cum for me, sweet girl.”
The tightness in your belly released and left you crying out against your bottom lip, caught between your teeth in a feeble attempt to quiet yourself. Your pussy clamped onto Sam’s cock in a vice grip as you rode it out, with Sam’s help as your thighs grew numb.
You moaned his name as you threw your head back, trying to gain any bit of fresh air. Anything to refresh you now that you were taken over.
“You paying attention to the movie?” Sam inquired, his hand snaking up your torso to one supple breast. He pawed harshly at your tit, cradling it in one hand and toying with your hardened nipple.
Of course you weren’t. With the way his cock was filling you, there was no way in hell you could think about anything else.
Incoherent slurring followed his question. A deeper stroke had you fumbling over your words - asking him to go easy, for him to slow down so you could follow his command.
Sam’s tone lowered, “Fucked dumb, huh? Can’t even form a sentence - too busy being filled up to care.”
He leaned back against the headboard to free his other hand, quickly finding your clit with pinpoint accuracy. Slow circles moved your swollen clit under his finger. His other fingers could feel the beautiful stretch his cock had on your cunt, nice and taught around his girth.
“You just can’t get enough, can you? Gotta have a big cock splitting that pussy wide, and you need it now.”
You reached toward your sex, fingers mixing with his own to feel it. You felt the base of his cock meeting your slick entrance, and the way his size warped your tight cunt around him. Gasping, you eagerly pinned your eyes on the TV, but didn’t dare move your hand.
Of course he felt big inside of you, but you never truly felt what he did to your insides. How thick he really was, and the way your pussy was naturally tight, but loved being used by him anyway.
“Such an needy little slut for my cock,” the degradation rolled through you like thunder, making you twitch around him as you came for a second time.
“And you like that, don’t you? You like being a perfect little slut, with a perfect little pussy for me to stuff with my cock.”
With his encouragement you bounced harder, the smacking of your hips together now filling the room, drowning out the sound of the TV. If anyone were to hear, they’d surely know exactly what was going on. Sam’s fingers rolled over your sensitive nipple and needy clit, bringing out the sweetest moans from your perfect lips.
“Keep moaning like that and you’ll make me finish, sweetheart. Be careful.”
It wasn’t something you would stay patient for. You picked up your pace while tightening your cunt around his cock, burying it deep inside, pounding his length into your sore hole. You ground your hips at the base, nestling the head of Sam’s dick against your cervix, your warmth enveloping him completely.
His abdomen tightened as his pleasure rose, threatening to spill himself inside you if you kept crying out like that. Sam knew it would be futile to fight it - him finishing in you was your favorite part, and you’d play dirty to get what you wanted.
You wanted to be claimed, to be owned, to be of service to Sam’s cock and whatever part he needed of your body. You were fully his to ruin and use.
“Please, Sammy… please fill me up. I need it,” you whimpered, falling back against his chest, stretching out your torso to feel the hollowness replaced with his cock.
“Sam, Sam, Sam,” like a hymn, begging for him to breed your aching hole.
Sam’s body tightened as he came, shooting his release through your walls, that now fluttered around him with your third orgasm. He loved when you came simultaneously - to him, it kept you closer.
After a moment, his cock twitched in your pussy, still spilling his load, coating your cunt in thick, warm cum. The warmth spread downward, leaking out of the seam between your ravaged pussy and his throbbing cock.
You bounced yourself along his length again, “Fuck it into me. I need it deeper.”
“Want it all for yourself? Such a greedy slut,” he growled, hissing as you clenched around his sensitive tip. He loved the idea of you keeping his cum deep inside of yourself, it was a perfect way to show you who you belonged to.
Sam Winchester, who stretched your pussy to fit his thick cock.
Sam Winchester, who owned every inch of your body.
Sam Winchester, who stuffed you to the brim with his cum, and fucked it deeper into your needy hole.
You sang out each other’s names as you both came down from your high, pathetically pushing your hips back and forth, back and forth, back and forth until your sore pussy couldn’t take it anymore. Sam eased you off of his cock and kept you on your knees, bending you forward.
He watched with great satisfaction as the cum leaked from your sweet, abused little pussy, right onto his drained cock. Those hot ropes of his seed flowed over your clit, covering your precious pearl of nerves with a thin layer of white. Nicely bred, perfectly used.
“You look so pretty like this,” he commented, trailing a finger through your soaked slit, collecting his cum on two fingers and easing them into you. You cried softly as his fingers worked through your stretched walls, pushing his cum further inside.
“Keep it in there. Don’t waste it.”
You tightened dutifully around his fingers as he pulled them from you, licking what remained on each digit. His cum, yours, it didn’t matter to him - it all mixed together in a rich blend of your juices that had him wanting more.
He helped you sit back upright and off of his lap, leaning on his side to check in.
“How you doin’, sweetheart?” His voice drawled lazily after his high, slurring through the words.
You nodded, panting, “I’m okay. How was I?”
His hand snaked to the back of your neck and tugged you to his lips, planting a chaste kiss before he spoke.
“You were amazing. You always are, sweetheart.”
The next few minutes were focused on cleanup and settling back under the covers. Sam offered you both some cozy pajamas, and now you sat comfortably under the blankets in the soft fabric. You nestled your head against his chest, watching the TV, at long last, with full attention.
“Can we rewind it? I missed the first part.”
Sam laughed, reaching for the remote.
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Hiiiii everyone, i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i did writing it! if you did, reblog and share this story with others!
as always, thank you for your support, i love you
-bunny
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ghouljams · 5 months
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(The Day After)Halloween on the Farm (Ghost's Version) Rating: T, there's vague nudity and mentioned sex Word Count: <1k Tags: This is all fluff folks, short and sweet, Ghost x f!OC/reader, very and I mean very minor descriptions of reader, reader has a scar Summary: You spent all night last night policing other people's fun, now you can spend time relaxing in Ghost's company. If he'd come back to bed, that is.
The sheets fall off of you, the sun streaming over your stomach and creeping towards your eyes as it rises. You wake up just enough to toss an arm over your eyes. It takes you a moment of drifting for the scratching of pencil on paper to reach you. It's the only noise in the silence of the room until you groan and go to grab your blanket.
"Don't move," Simon tells you quietly. You smile to yourself and let out a breath, sinking back into the bed. 
"When did you get up?" You ask, settling in to listen to him draw. The soft drag of graphite is lulling, gentle and familiar. Simon is quiet for a long time as he works but you're patient, and you're not going anywhere.
"Hour ago," he says when his pencil stills, his fingers rub against the paper, "maybe."
You stretch a little, arch your back and twist your hips in the quiet. As long as he isn't sketching you can move, and you're quick to settle back into position. It's an attention you'll never get used to. The way you can feel his eyes drag over you, studying you with an open affection, makes you feel more beautiful than anyone ever has. He's not one to show off, but the few times you've seen his sketches they were amazing. His attention to detail is meticulous, every shadow shaping forms and adding softness, weight, to his sketches.
You wait for him to start sketching again. Each short scratch a new shadow that is rubbed soft by his fingers. You could almost doze like this. The soft light of the morning and the warmth of the house threaten to drag you back towards slumber. It's so warm in here, no wonder you barely notice the loss of your blankets. Simon must have turned up the heat after you fell asleep, easier than putting clothes on after sex you suppose. He stops sketching and you seize the opportunity.
"Can I see?" You chance the ask, he grunts and you hear the drag of his eraser.
"Sure." Your heart feels like it's going to burst. You move your arm from your eyes to check its OK to move and catch Simon staring at you. He really must have just woken up, his hair sticks in different directions, and he’s only wearing sweats. He's pulled one of the kitchen chairs to sit next to the bed, his shoulders hunched over his sketchbook. The pencil in his hands looks so small. He raises a brow, and that's good enough for you. He holds the book out to you as you push yourself up, and waits for you to take it from him. 
When you do you have to stop from pressing your fingers against the paper, you can't trace the lines of graphite as desperately as you want to. You don't want to ruin his art, but you can't believe what you're seeing is really you. You're not insecure by any stretch of the word, but the way he draws you… "Am I really this pretty?" You breathe, eyes touching on the dip of your waist, the swell of your breasts, the soft part of your lips, the scar along your stomach so adoringly detailed. 
Simon hums, and you glance at him. He’s staring at you, watching you inspect his work. His gaze is so open it almost makes you want to praise him. You think he’d like that.
“No,” He tugs the sketchbook free of your hands and starts scratching his pencil against the page, feathering the strokes along your sketched lashes, “You’re prettier in person, haven’t gotten it right yet.”
You lean forward against your knees with a smile and rest your head on your folded arms to watch Simon work. He’s so gruff, so practical with everything, it never fails to surprise you that his hobby is so delicate. Maybe that isn’t the right word, careful? Meticulous you could buy, but that makes too much sense with Simon. No, you like delicate. It speaks to the care, the consideration in his art. You’ve watched him draw his own hands, so meticulous to trace every vein and scar, and yet looking at the finished product it’s almost appreciative. 
It’s definitely appreciative when he draws you. You know that much. You can see it. His eyes dart to look at you and back down to the paper, each line struck with purpose, each glance a calculation. And again you think that for all the technical parts, it’s loving. His sketchbooks are full of you, pieces of you litter every page, every inch. He’s packed full of you, just like you’re stuffed to the brim with him.
“I love you,” You tell him. He sucks in a breath, the same way he always does, almost disbelieving.
“Love you too,” He mutters, burying himself a little further in his work. 
“We should fuck when you’re done,” You mumble, closing your eyes to enjoy the warm house, the warm affection in your chest. Simon’s sketchbook snaps shut almost as quickly as the words leave your mouth. You peek up at your husband to watch him strip his pants off, and reach to push you back down against the bed.
You move with his insistent hands, and stretch out against the bed again, letting his eyes roam over you with a different sort of appreciation. He pulls your legs up around his waist as you reach for him, tugging him down to kiss him. Simon meets your lips all too eagerly, and you let out a pleased hum as you finally receive a proper good morning.
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heeliopheelia · 6 months
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"everything reminds me of you and it's driving me insane" (jay x fem! reader)
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genre: smut word count: 0.7k requested by @forjongseong ♡
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!
a/n: the last fic for the event!! i had so much fun guys, will definitely do it again once we hit another milestone!! nana babe i'm sorry it took me so long 🤍
masterlist
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The floor is already drenched when Jay pulls out his thick fingers out of you. Letting go of his firm grip on your hips, he pulls away slightly to smirk at your trembling thighs as you struggle to keep yourself up on your feet.
"Fuck!" You gasp breathlessly, fingers clutching on the edge of the marble kitchen counter for your dear life.
If somebody told you that this is how the party would end – with your ex boyfriend fingering you stupid in the apartment that the two of you used to share together, you doubt you'd ever believe them... Or maybe you would?
With the way your heart increased three times on its pace when you first saw Jay after almost half a year of being deprived from his ridiculously handsome face – it's actually quite obvious you'd bend to every will of the man you're still shamefully in love with.
Even though you were the one who initiated the break up in the first place.
"Couldn't wait to get my hands on you, sweetheart," Jay mutters, closing the distance between the two of you again and grabbing you by your waist to pull you flush to his clothed bulge.
"Oh, really?" You scoff quietly, fingers brushing the sweaty hair away from your forehead as you turn your head to him over your shoulder. "Could've fooled me with this bitch hanging on your neck the entire night."
"No need to be so jealous. She could never be you," he chuckles underneath his breath and before you know his pants and underwear are dropped to the floor and he rubs his hard cock over your swollen folds. You moan simultaneously when he finally slides it inside of you, bottoming out slowly. Jay's knees feel as if made of cotton when he feels you clenching around him and now he's damn sure that you were literally molded just for him. "Missed this pussy so much," he breathes out, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
He's got you caged in between his arms and the counter as his deep thrusts rock your body into the cold surface. You're already dizzy from the two previous orgasms you've had couple minutes before, and now as you listen to his ragged breaths into your neck, all of your senses are completely blocked out in the favor of him.
The way he fucks you is so messy, so needy and it's thrilling and it's so Jay that you can't help but let your tongue run loose and spill your guts to him right then and there.
"There hasn't been a day that I didn't think about you. Everything reminds me of you and it's driving me insane. Even that stupid orchid I've seen on my way back home in a flower shop today," you confess breathlessly, voice stuttering with every thrust of his. Jay immediately catches the reference to your second date when he bought you the pink flower you desired so much. "We were so good together, weren't we, Jay?"
He groans, grabbing your hips a little firmer. "Shit, that we were, sweetheart."
Your abused hole squelches and drips after each time he bottoms out and you let out a whimper, body draping over the counter as you grip the wooden cupboard with your shaky hand. The sound only spurs him on to fuck you even harder, better, his eyes clenching tightly as he relishes in your small whines of his name. His fingers dig into the plush of your hips as he draws his body into you from behind, panting loudly and pushing you even further into the counter.
When your walls tighten nearly painfully around him, that's when he knows your third orgasm begins to build up. He snaps his hips faster and with you calling his name over and over again, you eventually let go and feel the hot pleasure swallow your tired body again.
It's impossible for him to last any longer with you falling apart before him, your doughy cunt throbbing around him mercilessly, and Jay cums hard, body slouching on top of yours as he holds you tightly with face pressed to your neck.
And maybe, just maybe you're not the only one who's been having a hard time moving on from your irrational decision all these months ago.
And you're sure of that when you feel his arms turning your body around, eyes looking softly into yours before he pulls on your chin and plants a hungry kiss on your wet lips.
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permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @yoongspi @nichoswag @s00buwu @dazzlingligth
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sweetsweetjellybean · 7 months
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A night out with friends turns into a surprise welcome home party for the man who broke your heart, Eddie Munson.
Masterlist Listen to Scar Tissue Here
What to expect: Second Chance Romance set in 2012 Chicago, with flashbacks at the beginning of each chapter.  Eddie and Steve are in their 30s. Fem!Reader is given a pet name from each of the guys. No other name mentioned. No use of Y/N. No physical description. Reader does have a bit of personality, as I find it nearly impossible to keep her blank for such a long fic. You may find yourself at times making choices that you wouldn't normally make, but I hope you can put that aside and enjoy the ride. Sensitive Content. 18+ Guaranteed happy ending. This is my love letter to Eddie Munson.
WC:5162. Beta'd by @superblysubpar
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“Have a good day,” your mother calls out as you shut the front door to the gray clapboard-sided home that your parents had fallen in love with the moment they laid eyes on it. You hadn’t even gotten past the front steps before she appeared in the doorway, pulling her purple terry-cloth robe tighter around her shoulders as she called you back. “You don’t have to come right home after school,” she tells you, pressing a few folded bills into your hand, “Go out with your friends. Have some fun.”
“Thanks, Mom.” You muster up a smile, shoving the bills into the front pocket of your Levi's, certain they will end up in the ceramic pink elephant bank that sits atop your dresser, just like the money she gave you last week. She watches you walk down the steps, giving you a wave before she turns away, shutting the door behind her. 
She tries her best, but she doesn't understand that friendships in the seventh grade aren't made as easily as they were in kindergarten, and you can't tell her that in the six weeks you've been enrolled at Hawkins Middle School, not a soul has spoken to you unless asked to by a teacher. 
This was the life that your parents had chosen, a career that demanded constant relocation and upheaval. "It's an adventure," they'd tell you as your things were being packed into boxes. But the older you got, it felt less like an adventure and more like a test. A test to prove yourself over and over. There’s a phrase your mom has uttered so often over the years, that it's surprising it's not embroidered on the throw pillows. Bloom where you're planted. But here, in this town, you're only a weed in the garden.
Hawkins isn't any worse or better than any of the other ten places you've lived in the last seven years, but these kids have been together since birth and aren't eager to welcome newcomers into the flock. Pouring your efforts into being confident and friendly, projecting a cool and unbothered facade, the constant exposure has left you empty. The mask is too heavy, and you’ve been wearing it far too long. If this were one of the comics you kept in the box under your bed, you'd be discovering your superpower–Invisibility. They don't see you here, and maybe they never would. 
The edges of folded bills in your pocket press into the meat of your thigh. Adding them to your total should give you enough for the new Elastica CD.  With a bit of luck, you might be able to talk your dad into driving you to Tower Records in Indianapolis this weekend. A few houses away, the battered front door of a small yellow cape opens with a click and thud, drawing your attention. The house was more run-down than the others on this street. The grass was left to grow a little longer before being mowed, and a few nights a week, you could hear the yelling coming from inside before seeing the slow flash of lights of a cruiser parked in front. 
A boy with curly shoulder-length hair bounds out from inside the house, slinging on his worn backpack as he hits the sidewalk.
Right on time this morning. 
The scuff of your white Doc Martens falls in step with the crunch of his black Converse hitting the pavement. The chain running from his back pocket to his hip sways with his movements. It’s more of a determined bounce than a walk. Your eyes stay trained on the frayed holes of his Jansport, corners of textbooks and papers pushing through. You keep waiting for physics to kick in and the thing to give way entirely.
“Quit following me.” 
His voice floats over his shoulder, shattering the quiet of the morning. Your head swivels from side to side, looking for whoever he is speaking to. His body turns until he’s walking backward, both hands gripping the straps of his backpack, casting his expectant brown eyes on you. 
“Me?” You ask, touching your chipped painted fingernails to your chest.
“You’ve been following me for weeks, and it’s creepy.”
“I’m not following you,” you say incredulously, “We’re just going to the same place.”
“Well, walk on the other side of the street or something,” he says, turning back around, continuing on his way like he assumes you’ll comply.
“No.” 
Your defiance comes out flat and solid, drawing a line, sick of him and this whole town.
“Yes,” the word comes back without a glance, utterly unbothered by your show of determination.
“No,” you repeat louder, your eyebrows pulling together in a scowl, “If you don’t like it, you walk over there.”
“I was here first.”
“Seriously?” The anger in your chest turns to heat, rising up your neck and settling in your face. Your mouth opens, ready to unleash the venom sitting on the tip of your tongue when he stops walking.
“Might as well walk beside me then.”
Surprise melts the words in your mouth as your feet carry you forward until you’re close enough to see the freckles covering his nose. His eyes stay forward as his stride lines up with yours, moving forward at a more relaxed pace. A light breeze rustles the leaves of the Maples lining the street. The sound of your footsteps is interrupted by the occasional passing car. 
“You’re in seventh, right? You got Schnider?” He asks, his eyes darting to your face.
“Yeah.” You nod, looking down at your boots.
"Bad luck. She's a real bitch. I had her last year."
Answering with a shrug, you risk a look back at him. Long eyelashes framing big doe eyes, a sweet face he tries to hide with a hard shell. He wears a mask, too. 
Your brain’s on overload for the rest of the day—thoughts of the boy coloring away the hours like a secret, overanalyzing every bit of your interaction. When the shrill sound of the final bell rings, you join the current of students, gathering your belongings and exiting the building in a wave.
The fresh air is a welcome escape from the stuffy classroom as you cross behind the school past the football field, heading toward the path through the woods where the boy is lingering just beyond the gate, digging through his pack but coming up with nothing like maybe he had been waiting. Without a word, he falls into step beside you. When you look at him, this time, he meets your eyes. The sunlight flickers through the swaying leaves as your footsteps resonate through the trees as you continue together.
"I guess I'll see you tomorrow," his voice cuts the quiet air when you reach the front steps of his house, his tone revealing a hint of uncertainty. 
"I'll be headed the same way," you answer.
He turns away from you, pausing with his foot on the top step, looking up at his house before looking back at you. 
"I'm Eddie, by the way," he offers, his cheeks pinking at the vulnerability his words carry.
"I know," you respond, a small smile gracing your lips as you continue home.
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"Shit. Shit. Shit," you mutter, tucking your phone into your clutch and bolting up the marble steps to the second floor of the Kimpton Grey Hotel. Composing yourself as you pass through the lobby and open the double doors into Vol.39. The bar exudes timeless elegance with its dim, warm light shining on the dark-wood accents. Vintage jazz playing through hidden speakers, sounding like smoke and liquor. Everything here is steeped in leather, old money, and sophistication. It's no surprise that Nancy chose it. 
"You're late," Nancy says flatly, no amusement in the blue eyes framed by the blunt cut of her black, sleek hair as she glances at her watch with disapproval.
"Sorry." You slide into the open seat on the tufted couch across from her, adjusting the material of your dark emerald midi skirt so the slit wouldn't be showing off too much thigh, "There was traffic." It definitely wasn’t the extra half hour you spent with your feet up on your desk at Stax listening to the new release from Band of Horses.
"This is Chicago. There's always traffic," she counters, keeping her voice low enough that it doesn't travel past the lit bookshelves lined with leather-bound encyclopedias framing the seating area that your friends are currently occupying. "That's why I gave you a time a week ago. So you could plan ahead."
"She’s in a mood," Argyle says from the corner of his mouth, his hair falling around him like a curtain as he leans closer from the velvet upholstered club chair beside you. 
"Where's Steve?" Nancy demands, setting down her crystal tumbler on the gray marble table in the center of the space.
"He's not here?" you ask, scanning the bar. "It was Robin’s turn to watch him."
"Me?" Robin exhales from the other end of the couch she shares with Nancy.
"You're his best friend," you point out with a quirk of your brow.
"Yeah, but you're his–"
"I don't know why I bother to organize nights out for all of us if no one is going to be on time," Nancy cuts off Robin, huffing as she crosses her slender arms over her chest.
"It will be fine, Nance," Johnathan reassures, coming back from the bar carrying a flight of martinis he sets down in the center of the table. "Just relax. Everyone's going to be here in plenty of time." He takes the seat beside her, comforting her with his arm around her shoulder. 
Nancy and Johnathan have been on again-off again since she left Hawkins for school in Boston. Rekindling their relationship when she moved to Chicago and accepted a position at Spectrum Media, where she still works as their vice-president of content strategy. 
"Plenty of time for what?" You ask, leaning forward to choose a martini, picking the Astoria with a knot of lemon. 
"There's a mystery guest," Robin says, wriggling her brows and hooking her thumb towards Nancy. “Full of surprises, isn't she?”
"Where's Flora tonight?" You ask Robin, noticing she is without an escort. 
"Flora?" She asks, picking up a drink for herself, "That was over a week ago." She dismisses her with a wave of the hand before running it through her wavy blonde streaked locks, "Sadly, she left for a goat herding commune in Sacramento. I've been seeing someone new, a painter named Taylor. She's on exhibit at Magnolia. Her florals are really dreamy." She bites an olive off the end of her toothpick, sighing. 
Smiling around the lip of your glass, you shake your head. Robin works as an exhibit coordinator for Magnolia Gallery in Wicker Park, falling in and out of love with artists as quickly as she sells their pieces. You give her credit, she's having fun. 
"Did you text him?" Nancy asks, her lips twisting with impatience. The tense clench of her jaw has you setting down your drink and reaching for your clutch with no arguments. "Do you know how hard it was to get this reservation?"
"Then why are we here?" Argyle complains, gesturing around the room while he slumps back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass with the other. "You know I own like six bars, right? No reservations required."
"But then you'd be working," Nancy explains, as Argyle smoothes out his handlebar mustache.
"I'm always working, babe," Argyle says with a smirk, looking the part of a restaurateur and music promoter in his shiny flat-front trousers and short-sleeved silk shirt. 
Argyle is a new friend - meaning not from Hawkins. The California transplant, whose family owns a chain of successful pizza restaurants, has breathed new life into the Chicago music scene. Booking up-and-coming acts as well as big names into his bars and venues all across the city. He's a good friend to have, especially in your line of work–a music journalist for Stax the city's premiere music, arts, and culture magazine.
“He’s on his way,” you inform them, setting your phone face down on the table before settling back on the couch.
“On his way or leaving now?” Nancy shakes her head, knowing with Steve it’s probably the latter. “Why didn’t you ride with him?” She asks, turning toward Jonathan.
“I wasn’t in the office today. I was on a shoot,” he says, pulling his arm away from her and setting his drink down harder than necessary, his patience with her at an end. 
Jonathan, like you and Steve, works for the conglomerate Second City Media. Nancy likes to think that she permits the three of you to work for her competitor, but Steve had already gotten his foot in the door, securing himself an entry-level position at Metro Sports division before she was even out of grad school. Jonathan had been doing alright freelancing as a photographer, but when Nancy started at Spectrum, Second City recognized their competitor would wind up with an edge and hired him on as full-time staff. Everyone knows it's better for their relationship not to be working in the same place, especially with Nancy as his boss.
“Give us some clues about this mystery guest,” Robin interjects to lower the temperature between the couple, which is ready to boil over.
"Okay, I'm here." Steve comes from behind you, his voice alerting you to his arrival before you see him. His tie is already missing, the first three buttons of his starched shirt undone beneath his midnight blue suit, and his hair tousled from a day of running his hands through.
"Really, Steve? You couldn't be on time just this once?" Nancy scolds him, rolling her eyes.
"Meeting ran late. You know how it is," he leans down to kiss her cheek,"Or maybe you don't. I heard things are a bit slow over there at Spectrum," he teases, earning a smirk from Johnathan. 
Steve worked his way up from the sports division to chief content officer for Second City Media. The position puts him just shy of the power Nancy holds at Spectrum, fueling the pair's competitive and ambitious nature until their bickering often drives everyone else crazy.
"Steve," Robin draws his attention before Nancy gets the chance to respond, "About tomorrow–"
"Just a minute, Robin. I haven't gotten to kiss my beautiful wife hello." He steps over Argyle's legs and gives the man a quick handshake in greeting before sitting next to you on the sofa.
"I'm not your wife yet, handsome," you tell him as his strong hands cup your cheeks, tipping your head up toward him. 
"But it sounds good, doesn't it?" He asks before soft lips close over yours, his thumb pressing on your chin, asking for access to deepen the kiss beyond the line that's appropriate in front of company. 
"Niiiice," Argyle hums as the others snicker. Steve takes a hand off your cheek, holding it in front of you to block some of their views as his mouth moves hotly over yours. 
"God, you two are sickening," Nancy's remark is probably accompanied by an eye roll, but you're too occupied to notice as you tighten your grip on the front of Steve's shirt, drawing him nearer.
Four of his fingers curl down, giving Nance a one-fingered message as he continues to kiss you until he's had his fill. Breaking away with a gentle peck. "How was your day today, Ace? Did you write me a Pulitzer?" 
"You ask me that every day."
Despite teasing you, he wouldn't be surprised if you had what it takes. That's how much he believes in you. He takes your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips to place a kiss next to the glittering diamond he put on your hand a little over two years ago. 
"Excuse you." Robin climbs over Argyle's legs that are still stretched out in front of him, taking up all the space between the chairs and the table, and walks over to the couch, squeezing her way onto the sofa between you and Steve, "Best friend privileges." She winks before launching into a conversation about the next exhibit she's putting together.
"You two crazy kids set a date yet?" Argyle asks at a volume higher than you'd prefer. Raising your index finger to your lips, eyebrows drawing together as your eyes flick over to Steve.
"I'm just making sure my invite didn't get lost in the mail," he says, sipping his drink. "I love weddings, man—all those tiny little versions of regular-sized food. Maybe I should open a restaurant like that, where everything is tiny. Tiny little kebabs and tiki drinks with tiny little umbrellas. I don't know what's taking you so long. You need to make an honest man out of him." His voice grows louder at the end of his sentence, earning him another look from you, a distraction that diverts Steve's attention from his conversation.
The waitress chooses that moment to appear, saving you from another conversation about setting a wedding date. It's not that you don't want to marry him–you do. Someday. Decisiveness has never been your strong suit, along with dressing up in big puffy dresses that look like frosting and being on display for everyone you have ever known and their plus ones. 
While Steve squints down at the drink menu, fondness warms you like the opening notes of your favorite song. Reaching across Robin, you tap his chest. He looks over at you as he pulls a pair of glasses from his breast pocket and slides them on his nose.
Your lips move without sound–I love you.
You too, he mouths back. His mossy eyes softening as he smiles just for you. 
You're happy. Why change a thing?
“I’ll have an old-fashioned. Top shelf. Please,” Steve tells the waitress after she had gone around taking orders for small plates to share and more cocktails from the others. “Another Martini?” He raises his eyebrows at you.
“Yes, please. An Astoria,” you tell her as she finishes scribbling everything down on her pad and heads off toward the bar to put in your orders. 
“The ladies?” You tip your head at Robin, who nods, getting up to follow you. Steve squeezes your hand as you walk by as he continues his conversation with Nancy about the effectiveness of paywalls on digital content.
“God, she’s in rare form,” Robin comments as you enter the empty ladies' room, each of you closing yourself into a stall.
“Are she and Jonathan fighting again?” You ask once you’ve finished up and moved to the sink to wash your hands. The echo of your voices bouncing off the black and white hexagon tiles.
“When aren’t they fighting?” She pulls a few paper towels from the machine bolted to the wall and drys her hands. “It’s like foreplay for them at this point.”
You laugh, checking under your eyes for make-up smears. “Any ideas about this mystery guest?”
“No idea.” She tugs the brass handle of the door open, and you follow her back into the bar. “Maybe her brother?” 
“That would be nice,” you say, your boot heels tapping on the dark chevron floors, “He just got married, right?”
“So young, practically still a baby,” she tuts, her head shaking from side to side.
“Robin, he’s not that-”
Robin's hand clamps onto your forearm, a squeal escaping her mouth as excitement radiates through her. She bounces on her toes, leaving you in her wake. Whoever elicited such a reaction is being blocked by Steve and Jonathan. When she gracefully maneuvers past them, you catch a fleeting glimpse of dark curls before the two men shift back into place, obscuring your view once more. The clinking of glasses and chatter from the other patrons swells in your ears. Your feet carry you forward, curiosity resonating like the reverb of a guitar. Steve feels you coming up behind him and shifts to the side. Without warning, rich chocolate eyes are locked onto yours. Eyes you haven’t seen in eleven years when he left you a mixtape instead of a goodbye. The eyes of the man that shattered your heart into so many pieces, all the edges are still sharp. 
“Hey, doll.”
The breath trapped in your lungs forms a suffocating bubble, its dull, aching pressure stifling any movement in or out, causing your body to lock in protest. You're tugged forward, unable to fight it, until your body collides with his. The faint but familiar scent of him embraces you, lingering beneath the spicy notes of expensive cologne. Triggering a flood of a hundred painful memories, like songs you’ve overplayed and can’t bear to hear again. They jar your instincts into overriding the shock, compelling you to push him away. Eddie's solid frame absorbs the force. To your relief, the others haven't noticed as you retreat to your seat. Your trembling hand raises your martini to your lips, taking larger swallows than you normally would, but nothing with this situation is normal. 
"Desperate times," you mutter under your breath, tipping back your glass. By the time everyone has settled back into their seats, your martini glass stands drained, the lingering taste of its contents  bittersweet on your tongue.
Steve directs the waitress to bring another drink for you and a double Mescal for Eddie. The others' voices are a distant buzz in your ears, but their words don't breach the barrier of your thoughts. The chords playing in your mind are more discernible now. Their lyrics printed onto the faded photographs of a boy that you struggle to reconcile as the man before you. He's older, but you are too. His long hair is much shorter, the dark curls a richer brown pushed away from his face. A few lines grace the corners of his eyes and forehead–a reminder of the life he's lived without you. 
Steve's comforting hand wraps around your shoulders while the other finds a home sliding between the soft skin where your legs are crossed, exposed by the high slit of your skirt. Eddie's eyes are on you, his stare focused on Steve's big hand covering half your thigh. Your left hand moves on top of Steve's, adjusting to make sure the sparkling rock on your finger gleams with brilliance in the soft, ambient light.
"Well, this is a blast from the past," Robin notes, her voice full of whimsy as she dangles her cocktail glass between two fingers, swaying it gently like a pendulum.
"Aren't you all glad I forced you to come out?" Nancy quips, much more relaxed now that her plan has come to fruition.
"You did good, love," Johnathan murmurs. His fingers tangling with hers before giving her a quick peck. 
"Absolutely. I wouldn't have wanted to miss this," Steve agrees, "How long has it been, dude? Three, four years?"
"Yeah, I think that was the last time you were in L.A." Eddie scratches at his chin, covered with just enough scruff to almost be a beard. 
Steve keeps in touch with Eddie? Had he told you when you hadn't been paying attention to him, your mind wandering with the words you would write for other people's songs?
"Now, I know that I told you only old friends," Nancy says, angling herself towards the plaid upholstered chair that Eddie occupies. "But Argyle knows all the local talent, and I thought he'd be a good connection to have since you're moving here."
"What?" You ask, as if a sudden vacuum has just sucked the air from the room.
"You're moving here?" Robin's eyes light up with excitement at the prospect of all her friends in the same city. She was the original connection that brought you together all those years ago. 
"When you say here. You mean Hawkins, right? You're moving back to Hawkins," you clarify.
"No. I mean here. I'm moving to Chicago," Eddie says, leaning back into his chair, his long legs spread in his tailored black suit, the black v-neck underneath giving off a laid-back California vibe. "I told those corporate studio fucks I was done. I'm opening my own place to record music that's actually good, not just the kind that will sell. I'm surprised you don't know all this, doll. Isn't it supposed to be your job or something?"
“Fu–”
"Why Chicago?" Jonathan asks, cutting you off before you let loose a very appropriate response to his question, "Why not stay in L.A. or New York. Aren't there music scenes bigger than here?"
Eddie tips his head to the side, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. "You know, L.A.'s lost its charm for me. Too many fake people made out of plastic. And, well, Wayne's not getting any younger. Thought it's about time to be closer, you know?"
“You'd be much closer in Hawkins. Bet you could find a place downtown real cheap. You should go look there.” You cross your arms over your chest, drawing a line in the sand. 
“Hawkins doesn’t really scream rock ‘n’ roll, and I already got a place, but thanks,” he says, unconcerned as ever by your tone.
“Look at you two,” Robin says, clapping her hands, “Just like old times, back to your usual banter." Her mischievous grin widens, "Remember when she had that massive crush on you, Eddie? You’d stroll into Musicland during our shift, and she’d follow you around with those big heart eyes.”
Your ears ring as heat rushes up to your neck to your cheeks,the whole world spinning. Eddie looks down, swirling the remnants of gold liquid in his crystal-cut glass.
“You’re exaggerating, Robin,” you sputter, reaching for your drink, hiding behind the lip of the glass, “We were just friends. And it couldn’t have been too major. I don’t even remember it.”
“Oh, come on,” she protests, “Everybody knew.”
"I didn't," Steve's voice cuts through her teasing, leaving an awkward stillness in its wake. The distant sounds of high-pitched laughter and the faint scrape of utensils against plates fill the void. Your friends exchange uncomfortable glances, even though there was no malice in his tone.
“Hey, it’s no big deal, though,” his smile puts everyone at ease. “Right, Ace?” His head dips, brushing your lips in confirmation. You nod as he continues, “Robin, remember when we both went on dates with the same girl. What was her name? Brenda.” His fingers snap with the recollection.
“That’s right, Brenda! Brenda Mackenzie!” Robin laughs and begins to regale the group with the story.
When you lift your eyes, Eddie’s stare remains fixed on you, amusement replaced with an intensity you can’t read. An unfinished sentence or lyric. Words hanging between you like a question that you can't answer—one that you don’t want to.
“I’m going for another drink,” you say to Steve, picking up your empty glass. 
“Do you want me to come with you?” He asks, brows drawing together.
“No, I’m okay,” you tell him with a plastered-on smile, “You want anything?”
He shakes his head no. “I let my car service go early. I’ll drive us home in your car.”
With gentle fingers, you sweep aside a stray lock of hair that's draped across his forehead, planting a tender kiss on his lips before making your way to the bar. 
There is a soft creak of the leather as you seat yourself on a high stool in front of the polished wood bar. A bartender with an easy smile takes your order and leaves, giving you a much needed moment alone. Your lungs expand and contract without releasing any tension. You study your reflection in the mirror behind the rows of brightly lit bottles. If you could rewind the tape to a few hours ago, you'd have happily stayed in your office. Calling Nancy tomorrow to grovel for forgiveness for messing up her plans. But you can’t and the song plays on. It’s always the music that hurts the worst.
You release an audible sigh, your breath escaping through parted lips, as he settles onto the stool beside you. With a casual tap of his rings against the bar, he signals for the bartender, raising a single finger, his tongue peeks out, grazing his bottom lip as he gestures toward his empty glass.
"What’s the matter, doll? You really that unhappy to see me?" Eddie drawls, a half-smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"It’s been eleven years, Eddie. Sorry I’m not organizing a parade." You settle back into your seat, glancing around as if you're bored.
The bartender lowers his eyes as they deliver your drinks and wisely retreats to the far end of the establishment.
"I didn’t come here to fight," Eddie replies, his tone softening. He shifts his weight slightly on the stool, one arm resting casually on the counter, the glint of a gold chain around his neck catching the dim light.
"Then why are you here?" Your eyes narrow as your fingers trace the condensation on the side of the full glass.
"A fresh start. To build something of my own." He looks at you with determination, his dark eyes reflecting the soft glow of the bar lights.
"Then build it somewhere else," you respond curtly, your words laced with frustration. You pick up your drink and down half of it in one go, the chilled liquid leaving a slight burn as it slides down your throat. Setting the glass back down, you turn to leave.
He stops you with a gentle hand wrapping around your wrist, his touch causing your pulse to quicken beneath his fingertips. "There are some things I want to say to you. Let me take you to lunch unless Harrington has got you on too short of a leash."
You pull your wrist back, the feel of his touch lingering like smoke in the air. "Whatever you have to say has waited this long, try again in another decade. Unless you're dying."
"Would it make a difference if I was?" He meets your gaze with amusement playing on his lips.
"Let me think about it… nope." Your reply is quick and sharp, meant to cut.
"I know you're mad–" 
"No. Mad would imply some kind of emotional attachment. What I feel is indifference. In case you don't know the definition, that means nothing at all." Your voice stays cool and detached as you hop off the stool. "It's a big city, Eddie. There's no reason we have to see each other again." 
"We'll have to see about that," he smirks. 
"Have a nice life," you say a final goodbye to your past and turn away, walking in the direction of Steve when he stops you with one more question.
"Did you listen to it? The tape, did you ever listen?" 
The lie comes without hesitation. 
“No.”
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Read Song 2. here
AN: I hope you had as much fun reading this as I did writing it. If you have a song that you think Eddie would have recorded on the mixtape send it to me in an ask and it might be included. Anything before 2001. I'd love to hear from you. Comments and Reblogs are always appreciated.
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usetheeauthor · 1 year
Text
Video Games (MDNI +18)
🎶I heard that you like the bad girls, honey? Is that true?🎶
Sub!Boyfriend!Arisu Ryohei x Dom!Reader
Summary: Your boyfriend games all day instead of paying attention to you. You know exactly how to get him out of his own world.
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A/N: Wrote another sub!Arisu fic because I’m horny and I want to slut this man out. He’s so underrated in the fandom and I don’t get why. Do you see that innocent face? This man is begging to be folding like a pretzel.
Word Count: 994 words
Warnings: smut, handjob, biting, hair pulling, choking, kissing/french kissing, saliva as lube, spit kink, cum eating, dacryphilia, daddy kink
You knew the disadvantages of having a gamer boyfriend but you figured that Arisu was more than worth it. Now you’re not so sure anymore.
Just how is it possible that this man could stay in front of a screen for hours on end, mindlessly shooting enemies? Not once has he looked up at you to make sure that you’re still there. You just might very well leave.
Except you were incredibly horny.
There was something about your boyfriend that just made you so insatiable. You’ve never had a sexual appetite this intense before but whenever you’re in his presence all you want to do is tie him to your bed and use him until you’re both spent.
Sometimes, you wondered if your boyfriend felt this way, too. You get that he enjoys sex but it’s almost as if he’d rather game than make love to you.
You huff out loud. He glances at you for a moment, unaware of your lust-filled thoughts. You guess you should test your theory.
Standing up from your seat on the couch, you alert him enough for him to do a double take. Nonetheless, he returns his attention back to the game, headphones over his ears as he shouts commands at his team.
You approach him from behind the couch, removing the headset and throwing them off to the side.
“Hanii, I’m a little busy, here.” Arisu groans, frustration pickled in his tone.
“I know,” You whisper seductively in his ear. “But I want you.”
A shiver goes down his spine. “I can’t leave the guys. We’re right in the middle of a serious game.”
“I just wanna play with you for a bit. Why should you get to have all the fun?” You pout, leaning over the couch a little to rub his clothed erection. He’s already starting to grow in your hands.
“Please…” Arisu rasps.
You kiss and suck his neck, now exposed from lowering his hoodie. Continuing to palm his thick length, you could feel the faint motion of his hips rolling up in a circle.
“Should I stop?” You ask, teasingly.
“Uh-uh.” He protests, eyes closed.
“That’s what I thought.” You say, pulling down his shorts and underwear with his assistance and free him of his restraints. Your mouth waters at the sight of his dick. It was just so pleasingly beautiful. Thick and decent in length, he knew exactly how to use it to hit the deepest parts of you.
You hold your palm out in front of him, signaling him to spit. Arisu obeys, whimpering once you began coating his cock with his saliva and slowly stroking him. His ragged breaths fill the air and it takes everything in you not to ravish him. Your free hand grabs a fistful of his hair, turning his head to the side for a kiss. Upping the theatrics of the kiss, you massage your tongue over his while moaning. It was absolutely pornographic.
Sucking on his bottom lip, you drag it along with you before letting it go with faint pop. Your grip tightens around him, focusing your clenched fist around the sensitive tip of his cock.
His mouth parts, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back. He looks so amazing. How was it possible that you were his first girlfriend with beauty like that? You clasp a hand around his neck, applying enough pressure to choke out a sob.
“Y/n…”
You bite down on his earlobe, stroking him quicker. “Ryohei, don’t hold back. Make some noise for me.”
Arisu does as you say. No longer afraid to be vulnerable with being subservient to you. With every tug, he makes a soft ‘uh, uh, uh’ sound. He could feel his balls drawing up, the tension in the pit of his stomach building up.
“I’m gonna cum.” He whines.
“I wanna see your eyes when you cum. Please, daddy.” You were surprised yourself that you let that slip out. You’ve never called a guy that before especially not when you’re the dominant one in bed. But you were just so desperate to please him that he’d earned the title in that moment.
You could tell that it was just what he needed to let go, eyes open as you stare back at him intensely. He lets out a guttural moan, back arching as he spills over himself. His warm cum spurts out and runs down your fist and his tummy. You continue to jerk him, wanting to extend his pleasure for as long as he could take it.
“That’s it, daddy. Let go. Make a mess for me.” You kiss up his neck some more, it slightly sweaty from the exertion.
He begins to shudder and sob at the overstimulation. His nails sink into the couch cushion under him, searching for something to ground him. You have mercy on him, removing your hand and he can breathe again.
You make a show of licking his essence off your palm and fingers before crawling up the overhead of the couch, rolling onto the seat beside him. You plop your head in his lap, his dick still out but long gone soft. He hasn’t moved since his orgasm.
You stare up at him concern. “My love?”
He looks down at you in his lap with a blissed out smile and his hair was messy. “I’m back.”
“Good to know. I was worried I lost you there.” You giggle, soothing his hair.
He snaps out of his daze when he hears the notification sound from the TV. He quickly takes the controller to open the message.
“Dude, if you were going to abandon the game to get laid, at least give us a heads up. Also, your mic’s on.”
Arisu blushes profusely, taking a throw pillow to shove in his face. He muffles, “We forgot to turn off the mic! They’ll never let me live it down.”
“I’m sure they enjoyed the show.” You wink, rubbing his back.
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fox-guardian · 11 months
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I am asking about the stoker swap au
In short, it's an AU in which Danny survives his encounter with The Stranger and goes to work at the institute instead of Tim! Tim is still alive, Danny has NO formal qualifications to be working at the institute, and Tim is So Stressed because he lied on his applications. Danny takes on Tim's role in the institute, while Tim gets increasingly worried for his safety <3 That part does not get easier when he actually moves down to the archives <3
and now because i was thinkin real hard about it and got bored of just typing roughly the same synopsis over and over again, HAVE SOME DOODLES TOO <3 three things i've already written and one i Really Want To Write So Badly But It's So Far Away <3
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[ID: Four drawings on a soft lavender background featuring Magnus Archives characters. The first is a drawing of Danny Stoker after falling down a ladder leading up to an attic. He is dressed in academic clothing and is on his back, with his lower body still partially on the ladder. One foot is on a rung and the other is sticking out in the air. He looks to be in pain and he has swirls for eyes and little bees are flying around his head. Next to him are Jon, also dressed academically and holding Danny's coat, and an old woman wearing a black dress and a shawl. She looks at Danny with concern and Jon is startled by Danny's fall, visibly jolted.
The second drawing shows Danny and Sasha, both dressed academically, sitting at her desk looking at a computer screen. Danny is slouching with a horrified expression, while Sasha smiles, looking chipper. The computer is labelled "the horrors".
The third drawing shows Danny and Elias sitting across from each other at Elias' desk. They are both wearing black suits with ties and both have slicked back hair. Elias is smiling politely at Danny with his hands folded on the table, and Danny is smiling confidently back at him with his hands folded in his lap. Over the drawing is multiple faded drawings of Danny in different forms of panic. One has him sweating and screaming "I'm Doomed" with his hands in his hair, another has him looking oddly calm and posed like a corpse with a bouquet of flowers over his chest saying "This is the day I die", and the last one has him bent in half, laying face down in a puddle of tears, clawing at the floor, with his feet out in front on either side of him. "Crying noises" is written above him.
The last drawing is of Tim and Elias. Tim is gripping Elias by the lapels, yelling in his face with a furious and challenging expression, while Elias is sweating nervously and holding his hands up defensively, looking confused and afraid. His glasses are broken and bent and one of his eyes is swollen half-shut. end ID]
~~~~
the first two drawings are from danny's first field work outings with jon and sasha respectively, the third is from his first interview with elias, and the last is a scene i haven't written yet that takes place directly after the prentiss incident, in which tim confronts elias for putting his employees (read: danny) in danger and then punching him in the face <3
i really wanted to draw tim super mad because i never draw those kinds of expressions and i think he deserves to punch elias in the face <3 i don't think he'd be Quite like that in the written scene itself but it was v fun to draw
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miguel-ohara-lover · 7 months
Note
Do you do dom!Miguel? If so, maybe a Dom!Miguel x Sub!F!Reader? (If you’re not comfortable with that, I love some good domestic HC’s with Miguel :3 )
I go fucking feral for some Dom Miguel.
Also because I’m soooo nice here’s the HC’s too: Domestic HCs
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CW: Smut, dirty talk in Spanish (idk what else to add 🤷🏻)
Pls forgive any grammar mistakes…
After a long day of protecting the multiverse, Miguel returns to your shares apartment, very tired and very horny. You were just getting the stuff out to make dinner when you felt something press you up against the counter.
Miguel dipped his head down, moving your hair out of the way as he kisses your neck. You could feel his fangs graze your skin, one of his hands traveling down to your hip to pull you back against him.
“Long day, darling?” You tilted your head back to look at him. All he did was hum in response, face nuzzles into the crook of your neck. His hands move down and he lifts the hem of your skirt. You just smile to yourself and let him have his fun, feeling the bulge in his pants against your ass.
“Te necesito, cariño…” He groaned into your ear, tugging at your panties. You just keep your hands busy preparing dinner, and he tugs more aggressively when you don’t give him the attention he wants. Though he can feel how wet your panties are, he knows you want this just as much as he does.
You felt his hands pull away before hearing the familiar sound of his hologram suit disappearing. You felt his hard cock spring free against your ass, the fabric of your panties becoming wet with his precum. You smirked a little as you pressed back against him, earning a small grunt from Miguel.
He continued to kiss and bite at your neck, marking you up as he pushes your panties to the side. His large dick slides through your wet folds, covering his length in your slick. You let out a quiet moan as you feel him press against your clit. The tip of his cock teased your tight entrance.
Once his cock is covered he pushes into you slowly, stretching your cunt around his girth. You moan, feeling so tight around him. No matter how much you to went at it you always felt so tight on him.
He started rocking his hips slowly until he was completely buried in you. Miguel paused for a moment to let you adjust, and when he heard your whine of impatience he started thrusting slowly. Gradually picking up the pace, he spilled for precum inside your tight pussy, letting out low groaned and grunted whenever you clenched around him.
“Relax…” He whispered in your ear, voice deep and gravely. You tried to relax, but the feeling of his cock slamming into you, drawing you closer and closer to the edge made that hard. He nipped at your neck gently as his pace increased a bit. You could tell he was close, his breath ragged and he started muttering in Spanish like he so often did.
You moaned and braced yourself against the counter as the familiar knot formed in your gut. One of his hands found it’s way to your clit and rubbed circles around it, taking you over the edge immediately. You let out a loud cry as your orgasm rushes through you, covering Miguel’s cock in your cum as you clenched around him.
He let out a low groan as he released inside you, lazily rolling his hips against you as you both ride out your orgasms. Your legs tremble as he fills you, and he wraps his arms around you to keep you steady. Once you both finished he pulled out and kissed your cheek.
“Gracias.” Miguel gave your ass a light slap before going to the bedroom to get some clothes.
354 notes · View notes
sink-me-in-your-ocean · 2 months
Text
Tinderbox
Dewdrop/Sodo ghoul x demon!fem!reader smut
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WC: 5100
A/N: @endhisbloodlineinmyesophagus ty for being my inspiration during these times of turmoil. Also - set in the roaring Twenties… for no reason other than fun.
Content warnings: fingering, p in v sex, biting, rough sex, marking, kn!fe play, kn!fe k!nk, blood play (towards the end) and consumption. 18+ only. Minors DNI.
NSFW below the cut.
The evening sparkled, there was no other way to describe it. Men in suits, women in sequins, feathers, and fringe-trimmed dresses.
You had one last evening to celebrate after gathering necessary intel on the earthly plane for the devious devils down below who employed you. Everything could have been perfect, had it not been for your choice of company and his complete and utter determination to ruin the evening.
You had spent the entire afternoon doing up your hair, placing the curls just so. Your horns were hidden perfectly beneath the human glamour you had chosen. The dress you chose was as low cut as you could get without being confused for a prostitute. You still had to look your part, after all. You shimmered like an effervescent glass of champagne, all golden and gorgeous from head to toe. The color complimented your human-shade skin so nicely. Even the undergarments you chose were golden, the garter belt holding your hosiery up and the unlined bra doing the same to your soft breasts.
Only one problem.
Dewdrop would not stop reaching under the table towards you. He couldn’t stop fidgeting since you left the hotel room, rather. First it was his shoes, dragging up and down your stocking-clad calves to get your attention, then he switched seats at the four-top, so he would be right next to you. Hands, feet, the backs of your knees, everything was on the table apparently. 
His tail snaking its way up the skirt of your dress was the final straw. You were at a nice restaurant trying - failing - to enjoy a nice dinner. Just one teensy weensy thing in your temporary masquerade among the humans. For fucks sake, the place had white linen tablecloths. 
Thankfully you were sitting at a corner table.
“Dew.” You said through a forced smile, “I’m being serious this time.” 
You took a purposeful sip of your white wine, narrowing your eyes over the rim of the glass. The crisp, dry taste of the chilled beverage kept you from completely scowling at him. At least it did until you felt his tail curling up the edge of your dress again.
You scolded him again, “You know you shouldn’t be doing that, ghoul.”
His face was smug, “I can do whatever I want.” 
“Just not whenever you want.” You shot back.
“You can’t deny me.” His gaze was intense, fuck, you wanted to give in to his whims so badly. You couldn’t though, not now. No matter how much you wanted him to bend you over and fuck you on top of this perfectly white cloth-covered table.
“I can, and I am.” Your resolve was firm, but for how much longer it would stay that way, you hadn’t a clue.
The two of you stared intensely at each other, his irises started shifting beneath his glamour, blood-red cutting through. 
“Hah!” You exclaimed, though not loud enough to draw any untoward attention, “Sloppy, as usual, Dew. As soon as you get your mind in the gutter you start slipping.”
“As long as you’re there to catch me.” He grinned devilishly, and you could see his fangs poking through.
“I’ll catch you alright.” You sneered, “Right between my teeth I’ll catch you, honeydew.” You ended the sentence calling him your favorite term of endearment while simultaneously dragging your tongue across the top row of your even teeth. The action pointedly reminded him how your glamour was perfectly intact.
What was meant to douse the flames only added fuel to the fire ghoul. But that was the nature of your, rather explosive, relationship. 
You opened your folding fan, the air in the room suddenly feeling stale and hot. As you fanned yourself his greedy, ghoulish hands made their way back to your thigh under the table. 
You struck his offending hand reflexively before your brain could catch up. Perfectly in time for the runners to bring your appetizers out. 
“Thank you.” You smiled graciously, Dew scowled, staring at the human food in front of you both. “Don’t even start now.” You warned him.
“Fine.” He sighed, looking around before scooping up his food and shoveling it down without tasting it. He sat back in his seat as you brought the first bite to your wine-red lips. “I want to play a game.”
“What did you have in mind?” You said absently, glancing around sharply to make sure no one was watching his abhorrent display of table manners.
“If anyone looks too long at you -”
You interrupted him, “Too broad, be specific.” You had another bite of the tangy appetizer. 
“Fine.” He huffed, looking around the room before a wicked grin crept over his face. “If that waiter comes over here for no reason again, I get to spank you.”
Touché, that was specific enough. “Oh, I see, and if he comes over here with a purpose?”
“Your choice then.”
“Nah, too boring.” He let out an irritated noise, but you ignored him, “How about this, if you get jealous of him flirting with me, I get at least one more orgasm than you.”
“That’s assuming he will flirt with you, which there’s no way he will do that with me here.” He seemed overly confident. “The human men respect each other way more than they respect women.”
The match was set. “Then you shouldn’t be afraid of being jealous.”
“I’m never jealous.”
“We’ll see about that.” A smirk touched your lips before you finished your plate of food.
You enjoy the rest of your meal, each course exciting your taste buds more than the last. Finally, it was time for dessert. Out came the most decadent looking chocolate frosted cake on a silver platter. The waiter, whose name you learned was Liam after you asked and batted your eyelashes, promptly served you a slice of the checkerboard cake. 
You took a huge bite, savoring the sweetness. Vanilla and chocolate, perfect for your indecisive self.
The waiter serves Dewdrop a slice as well before his watchful eyes look at your face again
“Miss, you have some, er, frosting on your cheek.”
“Oh, do I?” You played so innocently. “Be a dear and get it for me, would you?”
“With pleasure.” He plucks a dark napkin from the inside of an otherwise empty wine glass. The man leans in and dabs the cloth on your cheek, the side of his finger brushing your skin excited you. You didn’t break eye contact until you felt the whole table rattle as Dewdrop kicked it.
Moment over.
The waiter straightened and motioned to the bottle of champagne you ordered, averting his eyes from you. He picks up the bottle and begins to tear the gold foil from the top but Dew snatches it out of his hand. His chair makes a scraping squeak as he practically jumps out of it, commanding the room.
You watch wide-eyed as couples conversations at the few surrounding tables begin to die out, their attention turned to the two devils in disguise. Dewdrop removes the fastener with one hand and easily manhandles the bottle with the other. 
Damn those perfect hands of his. 
You thought he meant to pop the cork barehanded but he surprised you, as well as earned a couple light gasps from nearby tables, as he picked up a knife. He ran it along the seam of the champagne bottle and with a swipe of the blade he sliced the bottle open. It let out a loud pop, and the contents inside bubbled but no liquid spilled, rather, combined with the air in a hiss and left it like a smoking gun. 
The scattered applause in the space was no match for Dew’s smirk at you. 
Oh he had you. He had you so well. Who would have thought that sabrage could be so sexy? 
There was no point in flirting with the human anymore, but you did it anyway. You were already traversing a rocky path, but you wanted to set off a few more traps along the way. So you made sure Dew caught you looking the waiter up and down, raking your gaze over him as he handed you the glass of champagne.
The two of you sat in silence while you finished your beverage and cake. Then you reached for your purse, opening it to find the dark lipstick that needed reapplying. 
The waiter came back to your table as you brazenly applied your lipstick in front of the dining room. You did one of your signature moves, sweeping your eyes to look up at him, your lashes batting ever-so-slightly in that way that made mortal men fall to their knees.
“Can I interest you in anything else this evening?” His voice deepened, “Perhaps something off the menu?”
“Oh?” You played up your sweetness to tooth-rotting levels, “What did you have in mind?”
The waiter went to open his mouth and promptly closed it, his expression turning to icy fear. You turned your head to look at Dewdrop just as he hissed at the poor mortal, his eyes glowed red as he purposefully dropped his glamour.
You hit him with your fan again. 
It was well past time to leave. You didn’t want the mortal getting in any real trouble with your fire ghoul, so you collected your wits and coat and left promptly, dragging Dew behind you by his necktie. 
-
You both got in the lift to go up to your shared hotel room. Of course, you had to tell the clerk at the check-in desk that you were “Mr. And Mrs.” since this establishment was more on the high end and yet still cared that a woman couldn’t rent her own room by herself. 
Eye roll.
As soon as the doors closed on the lift, the energy changed. The light bulbs dimmed, the panel on the wall containing the floor numbers blinking and flickering before stabilizing. The liftman blinked and shook his head furiously, not understanding what had happened. But you knew, Dewdrop was absorbing power. But for what, you had not the faintest.
As if to prove a point, he snuck his hand behind you, running up the inside of your thigh closest to him and shocking you with static electricity. You tried not to jump, not to give him the satisfaction, but your body betrayed you. 
He snickered, causing the elevator operator to glance back over his shoulder, prying eyes turning to see what was happening. Dew growled at him, eliciting the same nasty behavior as he had at the dinner table.
You swatted him with your fan in the ribs, only to get no response. He was locked in a death stare with the poor soul. 
There’s only one way to remedy this.
You darted your hand out, nimble fingers digging into Dew’s side to tickle him. He made a high pitched sound that almost made you laugh aloud, turning his red eyes at you. You weren’t intimidated by his glare at all, at least not until the threat spilled like thick poison from between his clenched teeth.
“You’ll pay for that.”
Your stomach squeezed. Dewdrop made more threats than a hellhound has teeth, but this felt like a promise. It was the way he said it that sealed the deal. But you wouldn’t let him win, not yet at least.
“You don’t scare me honeydew.” You let your glamour slip slightly, baring your sharp fangs at him.
The elevator clanged and let out a ding. 
“Uh, e- enjoy your evening.” The liftman tripped over his words and opened the door. He was surely too eager to be rid of the both of you.
You slid the metal key from your tiny purse, unlocking the door. Dew grabbed you and opened the door, slamming it loudly behind you. The hotel room was a coffin now, and you were about to be buried alive. Your only warning was his heavy panting breaths and the tight grip on your arm.
Payback time.
He shoved you into the wall roughly, your shoulders taking the brunt of the impact. Dewdrop grabbed you, his claws creating divots in your glamoured skin, and planted his lips on yours. The kiss you shared was equally matched in ferocity and need, sending tingles to the very tips of your fingers. You felt your lust bubbling to the surface, equivalent only to your dark urge to mark him too.
Your hands went up to his cheeks immediately and from there to tangle in his silken white-blonde hair, not letting him go for a second. You couldn’t, holding him close to you was your greatest desire. His kisses smothered you in warmth and his scent of smoke and ash.
He kissed you fervently and rambled as his lips traveled to your face and neck, his right hand moving to the small of your back, long fingers pulling you flush against him while the other knotted itself in your hair. “I’ve wanted to have you since the second you stepped out in that dress. I know you put it on just to tempt me, to tease me.”
“Dewdrop, listen to yourself, I had to wear something. I can’t just go out in public naked.”
You could tell he was picturing it from the way his breath stalled, his teeth freezing over your quickening pulse. Gripping his tie and unfastening it, you broke him out of his wild imagination, snapping it as you tore it from beneath his shirt and jacket.
“No, no you couldn’t.” He managed breathily.
Your breath was just as tremulous, “Tell me why, my ghoul.” Your fingers tugged on the lapels of his jacket, pulling him back in. You were already lust-drunk from just kissing him, but you needed more. 
“Because you’re mine.” His gruff voice, the rushed kisses, and the scrapes of his fangs at your throat felt like a drug being injected directly into your bloodstream, and you felt your rational thoughts slipping away into nothingness. All that was left was him. Him and you. The two of you against the world in a time you didn’t belong to. 
His left hand grasped the inside of your thigh, which made you eternally grateful for the high-sitting fringe on the dress. You gasped, his warm, long fingers dug into your flesh almost possessively. His desire to mark you as his was as intense as your need to be claimed by him. And you needed to be claimed by him, completely. 
He played with the garter straps laying innocently against your legs and traced the seams of your stockings. You stripped his jacket off his shoulders, glad to be ridding him of the superfluous clothing but wincing when his hands left your skin.
His fingers continued to travel upwards, nearing the apex between your thighs. Now he was stalling, those digits you craved so much just hovered, occasionally tickling the crease of your leg. Dewdrop loved to tease you, it was all to get you back for teasing him so much. You knew you earned this, but you wanted him so badly to cross that threshold and touch you where you ached.
He moved his face back from your neck, meeting your eye line, watching you unravel before he’s even done anything to you. That smug look on his face made you unruly, and you flashed your fangs to urge him to get on with it. Dewdrop kissed you as his fingers slid under the seam of your panties. You sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, greedily biting at his lip. He growled in response as he stroked against your slit.
“So fucking wet for me.” He said in the midst of messy kisses, then he bit at your bottom lip, trapping it prisoner between his sharp teeth before drawing back. His eyes were dark as the void itself, “Or is this for him?”
That human? He couldn’t be serious.
“No, Dewdrop, only for you.”
“Fucking better be.” He pressed two fingers inside your aching center. 
He tilted your head with his free hand, kissing up your neck and ear again. Your ear which was now pointed, the skin he was kissing melting from an illusory human tone to a color wholly unnatural for a person.
Dewdrop pulled back again, admiring his handiwork. “Now who’s glamour is slipping?” He curled his fingers to punctuate the question, making your thighs fight to close.
Smug bastard.
“Show me.” His eyes glowed intensely. “Let me see you.”
“Are you -” a moan interrupted your question as he added a third finger inside you. Your nails dug into his shoulders. “A-are you sure?” He hadn’t seen you completely without your glamour before, and you felt nervous about bringing it out. 
He planted a passionate kiss for assurance to your lips, “Fuck yes.”
“Hmmm,” you hummed, debating whether you should. Then, you realized you could make it a game and a wicked, seductive smile had you goading him, “Make me cum and I will.”
“How can I say no to that?”
You had no warning as his thumb pressed against your clit. His fingers, fuck, they felt too good inside you. It was a curse, as they made it so yours could never measure up. 
He kept up his pace, and the stimulation between his fingers and thumb was making you weak. You felt your knees sagging slightly, but he kept you right where he wanted you against that wall. Dew didn’t let up for a moment, giving you all that you craved with the ministrations of his hand and kissed you deeply. You swear even your scalp tingled; you felt lightheaded already. And all the tension between you two earlier? That was the real foreplay. 
His fingers kept up their movements, in and out, in and out, giving you that sensation that had you at the end of a rope, hanging on a rope by a thread. Then he curled his fingers and you became flaming cinders burning the rope to ash. Your claws dug into his shoulders as your body tensed, teetering on the precipice of your orgasm. 
“Dew -” you whined, trying to hold on.
“Let go for me.” He whispered into your skin before sucking hard on the flesh of your neck.
You cried out in rapture as you shattered. His long fingers stroked you through the fluttering waves of your climax. You thought he would give you more time to come down from your high, but you were wrong. A moan escaped your lips as his fingers left your dripping sex and you looked at him. 
Dewdrop’s red eyes were intimidating, and filled with desire. You knew he wouldn’t wait any second longer. He gave you what you wanted, now it was your turn to sate him.
“Turn around.”
You did as you were told, obedient only for him. 
He brushed your fallen hair from the back of your neck to expose the top of your dress. His fingers hesitated with the zipper for a second too long before he let go of you. You were about to complain when you felt the cold press of metal skate up the back of your thigh. Your veins turned icy and made you go rigid as the metal glided up and under the hem of your dress. Far too close to your heat. Dewdrop grabbed the bottom of your dress in his other hand and with a swipe, shredded the garment from your body. 
“Dew! I liked that dress!” The shorn pieces lay in tatters at your feet along with the knife you recognized from dinner earlier. He must have pocketed it after popping open the champagne bottle.
“I’ll get you another one.” He sized you up, looking you up and down. “Drop your glamour. Now.”
You wanted to protest, but you knew he was just like you in this regard: Stubborn to a fault. It was his turn to get his way, and you had to give in.
You rolled your shoulders, removing your bra, then unclipping the garter belt from your middle. Concentrating, you closed your eyes, shifting into your true form, your hellish form. Your twin horns sprouting from beneath your thick hair, your tail appearing behind you, and your skin turning an inhuman shade somewhere between dusk and dawn. Your nails lengthened into claws and your teeth did the same, became sharper and deadly. 
Used to seeing so many parts of Dewdrop, it wasn’t anything new per se to have him do the same, but at the same time - it was. The air changed, it felt thick as you inhaled, taking him all in. Showing yourselves to each other shouldn’t have mattered so much. But this added a layer of intimacy to your tryst. Two demons in their true forms, finding temporary solace in each other's arms in this isolating earthly plane.
Ironically, it was a slice of heaven.
“You’re perfect like this.” He ran his tongue over his sharp teeth.
“Am I?”
“Yes.” He kissed you again, deeply, with a depth of lust you couldn’t place yet. His voice dropped low, “Now I think I might die if I’m not inside you. Get up there.” He ended the sentence with a chaste pinch on your exposed ass cheek.
You knew better at this point than to ask him if he wanted you face up or down.
It was a face down kind of night.
He didn’t waste a breath, no sooner had you “assumed the position” and he was behind you, bare, and pressing against your rear. 
An embarrassingly needy sound escaped you, but you couldn’t help it. You were like Pavlov’s dog and Dewdrop trained you exceedingly well. 
And he rewarded you even better.
He fisted your hair with one hand, pulling you back so you felt him right there. His thick cock rested perfectly against your wet cunt, and you wiggled your ass back and forth to coat his length with your juices. He twitched, hand reaching out to line himself up with your entrance.
This was always the part that made your toes curl and your breath stall. The calm before the storm with the tip of his hard dick against your lips. Every muscle tensed, your demon body roaring internally, needing to be taken by him, demanding to be claimed.
“Fuck.” He cursed under his breath as he pressed himself inside you, and you felt that familiar burning stretch. Your nails dug into the sheets for leverage, and you arched your back further, pressing back to ensure he buried himself to the hilt on the first go. Your mouth hung open as he bottomed out, then he immediately withdrew, leaving only the tip inside you before slamming his hips back against yours. His grip on your waist tightened as he started a rhythm that had you crying out for gods you didn’t believe in.
“You think that stupid, human, waiter could fuck you as good as me?” He was relentless, rutting into you like an unbridled animal. If there was one thing about Dewdrop you could always count on, it was that he would put all of his rage into fucking you. He held onto his emotions from the day and completely let go, only for you.
“Is that, fuck, is that jealousy I hear?”
“Maybe it is.” You felt his claws coming out, digging into your soft hips. 
You growled, the feeling of your ass cheeks vibrating with every thrust of his hips meeting yours was spurring you on more. Just then, an idea in the heat of the moment hit you. You craned your neck to rake your gaze over him, distracting him with your pleading eyes. “Give me more, please Dew. I need more.”
He took the bait. His dark eyes locked on yours, “You’ll take whatever I give you, harlot.”
You used his distraction to snake your tail up and behind his back, careful to avoid his in the process. The spaded end of the appendage dragged itself underneath his arm, running along his ribs with a feather-light touch.
He jolted, not hesitating to give you a hard smack on your right ass cheek before pulling out of you. The feeling of being empty made you clench, alarm sounds ringing in your feverish brain. You sat up, playing innocent even though he would never buy it, “It was an accident.”
“I don’t care.” He shifted himself so his back was against the pillows along the headboard.  “You want to misbehave then you’re going to have to work for it.” His red eyes flicked downward before landing back on your nude frame and he crossed his arms. 
“With pleasure.” You purred, mocking the sentence the waiter had said to you earlier. Only now, it was to further goad the fire ghoul. Moving to straddle him, you kept your gaze on him, your throne to sit and satisfy yourself upon. Just you wait, ghoul, I’ll make you scream for me.
Your shoulders moved like a feline predator stalking its prey as you crawled up onto his lap. You rose up on your knees. He remained in his unhelpful posture, arms crossed. That’s fine. He never could keep himself from touching you for long. Your hand touched his length, stroking him lazily several times while watching his face closely, his only reaction being a slight purse of his lips. You knew he was probably biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself so stoic.
You moved to be above him, lining his cock up with your entrance and sinking down on him. You bit your lip to keep from moaning and Dewdrop hissed in response. Fuck. It didn’t matter how many times you did this, it felt so fucking good every time.
You lifted yourself back up, wanting to start slow, but Dew had other ideas. He swiftly grabbed your hips and forced you back down on him hard, punching the air from your lungs with the strength of his thrust. A cry escaped from your lips.
He was never able to help himself from manhandling you, especially when you were on top. But, it was unusual for him to lose his patience so quickly. He bucked his hips up into you as you tried and failed to establish a pace. He wouldn’t let you go, his claws digging into the plush skin at your waist possessively.
“Dew!” You gasped his name as he claimed the flesh of your neck, biting and sucking everywhere he could. 
Frustration and pleasure hit you right in your middle. No movement was your own. He was relentless. And he was not loosening his grip on you for a second. He was so out of control it seemed, like some part of him had woken up and seized authority over his brain. 
It was because you dropped your glamour.
The realization hit you right as you began to see stars once more. It was so good. Too good. Just his cock inside you and you felt yourself barreling towards another orgasm. His pace was almost cruel, dragging you up and pulling you back down, feeling every inch of him.
Another heavy breath escaped you before you could speak, “Dewdrop?”
He cursed again, “What?” His hand fisted your hair, catching your lip between his fangs and tasted you. 
You broke the kiss, biting the inside of your cheek to ground you. The pain helped you find your words, “You want me to be yours?”
“Yes.” He growled, “Fuck.”
Your voice was barely a whisper now as you fought harder to stave off your climax, “All yours?”
“Yes.”
You snaked your tail up again, this time caressing the side of his neck with the spaded end. You dragged it back, brushing his long hair away from his neck, exposing the skin peppered by smudges of your lipstick. 
“Then let me mark you.”
A sound escaped him that was between a breathy laugh and a scoff. “I knew that’s what you wanted.” His pupils nearly completely enveloped his red eyes, and you knew yours were blown just as wide. “Take your pleasure from me, temptress.”
Without hesitation, you sink your teeth into the pale grey flesh of his neck as you reach ecstasy. You taste him in your mouth, then everywhere all at once. His blood is a liquid inferno on your tongue, igniting your senses. Your cries are muffled as you feel every muscle in your strong demonic body clench simultaneously. You hold him tight, claws taking root in his skin, as though he is your very life force as you ride the waves of your pleasure. 
Feeling your orgasm is more than enough to put him over the edge with you. You felt his dick twitching as he spilled himself deep inside of you and filthy words of lust leave his lips.
“Fuck. You’re all mine. Now and fucking forever.”
You release your mouth from his neck to allow him his turn, admiring for a slim moment the mark worth your canines. A breath barely passes your lips before he yanks your hair to the side and bites down on your neck, marking you back, his cock still pulsing inside you. 
Your eyes close tightly and you roll your hips, following the rhythm of each lap of his tongue on your neck until he breaks his hold on you. Both of you groan from the overstimulation, but your body fails you, feeling too spent to go another round right now.
You don’t waste time. Dewdrop is not one for cuddles, usually, but neither are you. A discomfort fills your body when you pull yourself off him, but you brush it off as the true nature of your hellish form overstaying its welcome.
Standing from the bed, you made your way to the vanity. Spying your glamourless self was not new, but it stirred something within you. Seeing the bite marks, hickies, and scratches he left gave you a tingling feeling.
You never came out from a tryst with Dew looking unscathed, but this was different. You brought a hand to your swollen bottom lip and ran your other hand through your hair, touching your pointed ears. Sighing, you went to change back, concentrating on changing your skin, your patterning back to human-like.
Dewdrop seized your wrist, “No.”
You jumped, whirling towards him. You hadn’t realized he even got out of bed. “No?”
“Just stay yourself a little longer.” His fiery gaze dropped almost timidly to the floor, “Please. I like you like this.”
Words failed you. But how could you possibly ignore his plea?
The answer?
You couldn’t. 
Anything for your fire ghoul.
71 notes · View notes
fettuccin-e · 1 year
Note
I can’t stop thinking about Steven and Marc in oversized jumpers and how cozy they look (even tho they’re in a crisis at the time 😅) so requesting a nsfw fic about one/all of the moon boys finding the reader wearing their clothes and it does something to them
hi anon omg this request is so old and i am so sorry that I'm just getting to this!! this is so fun and YES the way marc spector would go fuckin FERAL over his S/O smelling like him,, like he's so possessive i love him sm!! i hope the smut makes up for my lateness. love u!!!
A Soft Ray of Sunlight
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Tags: Marc Spector x Reader, fem!reader, unprotected piv (pls wrap it up irl, fuck them kids), kitchen sex lol, really light spit kink, possessive!Marc (w/c: 1.7K)
You’re in the kitchen when he sees you from the hallway, cooking dinner and humming to yourself as you swirl a sauce around in a pan.
Marc is used to you wearing Steven’s jumpers; you always claim that Steven always manages to find the softest ones, even though you have several others just like them. 
But this one, the jumper adorning your pretty body, the bottom of it just brushing the tops of your thighs, it’s his. Marc’s. It’s one he’s had for years, the cuffs of the sleeves starting to fray and a coffee stain on the side that he can’t manage to get out. You’re always beautiful, and that sweater looks better on you than it’s ever looked on him. 
And it’s all you’re wearing.
The sweater is big on you, but definitely not big enough to only be worn with panties, which is exactly what you’re doing. If you were to bend over, god, Marc would see everything.
His legs move of their own accord, the pull of you like gravity, endlessly drawing him in. His hands slide gently over your waist when he reaches you, and you jump slightly, pulled out of your reverie.
“Shit, Marc, you scared me,” you giggle, leaning your head back against his chest. His strong arms curl around your middle, melding you to him as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.
“Sorry, baby,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t sound sorry at all.
“No you’re not,” you whisper, turning in his arms to press your chest against his and kiss him softly. “You are a terrible liar, Marc Spector.” 
He moans softly into your mouth, clutching at your hips. Has this sweater always been this soft? It doesn’t feel nearly as good on him as it does on your skin, smelling like a mixture of you and him, intoxicating him. He never wants to wash it again, wants to keep it smelling like you forever.
You smile into his mouth. “Something got you worked up, babe?” 
Marc groans again, head swimming with your taste, your smell, the feel of you under his fingers. “You just,” he rasps, pressing kisses to your mouth between words, “God, you’re so pretty, baby. When- when did you take this sweater?”
You make a noise of understanding. “This morning, fresh out of the dryer. Just looked too comfy to fold.” You lean away from his mouth, chuckling when he whines softly. “Why? Do you want it back?” You know he doesn’t, but you still like to see him squirm.
You’re one of the few people in this world to break down Marc Spector’s stoic nature, and you’ve never been known to use your powers over him for strictly good things. Getting him desperate is just too fun.
“Please no,” he mutters, moving from your mouth to pepper kisses down your jaw and neck. “You look way better in it than I do.”
“Not possible,” you whisper, winding your hands into his hair to tug him back to your mouth. You can feel the outline of his cock through his sweatpants, pressing into your hip. You untangle a hand from his hair to palm the bulge, relishing in the wet gasp that rips out of Marc’s throat. “Happy to see me, Spector?”
“When you look like this, how could I not be?”
You lick feverishly into Marc’s mouth as he walks you backward, crowding you into the kitchen counter. His thick fingers dig into your hips, likely going to leave light bruises. “You know,” you whisper, pulling away from his mouth to drag a finger down his chest, teasing. “I’m still wet from last night.”
Marc chokes on a breath. “Yeah?”
“Mhm. Not to mention that I’m soaked whenever I see you.” You watch Marc’s mouth drop open a little bit, his pupils blown wide with arousal. “But you boys fucked me so good last night. I’m still dripping,” you lean in further, your lips brushing against his ear, “gaping for you.”
Marc groans loud, the sound ripped violently from his chest. He leans down, grabbing the backs of your thighs in his big hands to lift you until you’re sitting on the counter, your legs rising to wrap around his waist. “God, baby,” he mutters. “You wanna kill me?”
“Not kill you, just drive you crazy.”
“Mission fucking accomplished, sweetheart.” He licks into your mouth all over again, pressing himself into you. The position is perfect; from this height, his cock presses so perfectly against your pussy, the both of you only separated by your pesky clothing.
You whine into him, your hands moving down to push at his sweatpants till they’re around his thighs, freeing his aching cock. You wrap your hand around him to give him a long stroke, and he breaks from your lips to gasp, his eyes clenched shut.
“You gonna fuck me, Marc?” you murmur, pumping him slowly. “Make me drip even more?”
“Can I, baby?” he whines, and you answer him by licking into his mouth all over again, letting go of his cock to reach down and pull your panties down your hips. Marc grabs them as you work them down the fat of your thighs, tugging them roughly over your knees and letting them fall carelessly to the floor.
Then you both are colliding, an endless pull between you, never close enough. You grab at Marc’s cock again, sticky and throbbing, guiding the tip of him to your entrance. You weren’t lying; your boys had all come out to fuck within an inch of your life just the night before, leaving you still gaping and still leaking their cum. Used.
Marc has an iron-clad grip on your thighs, holding you steady as he presses in, reaching so deep it’s like you can feel him in your fucking stomach, knocking the breath out of your lungs. “Marc, Marc,” you whine, tucking your face into the crook of his neck and digging your nails into his broad back.
“Shit, baby.” He pulls out just a bit before rutting back in, and you choke on a moan. “You’re so fucking tight. How are you still,” he ruts into you again, and again, “so fucking tight?”
You can barely acknowledge his words, your brows furrowed as you concentrate on the stretch of him in your cunt, mumbling “s’big, Marc. So fucking big in me, gonna break me apart baby.”
An almost pained sound erupts from Marc’s throat, and suddenly he’s fucking into you like a man possessed, one hand traveling to the small of your back, snaking under the sweater to get to your heated skin, while the other travels up into your hair. He grabs a handful of it in a fist and yanks your head back from his neck, forcing you to look into his face, and fuck, Marc looks like an animal. His cheeks are flushed, his hair mussed, and his pupils are blown wide, intoxicated by the feel of you.
You can’t imagine how you must look, little grunts escaping your throat with every one of Marc’s thrusts into your needy pussy, your eyes shiny with tears. It’s so good, the stretch of his heavy cock, bullying into you just right. And then Marc shifts his hips just barely.
You shout wetly, jerking so hard you would have fallen off the table if not for Marc’s strong body pressed against yours, his hand pressed firm against your back. And he has the audacity to chuckle, like the bastard he is.
“Oh baby,” he coos, fucking into you hard at the very same angle, and your thighs are trembling, overwhelmed tears rolling down your cheeks. “That's the spot, pretty girl? Feeling good?”
You barely have the words to describe how amazing he feels, his fat cock pushing hard against your g-spot, unrelenting. “It’s so, it’s so good, Marc. Oh god, oh my fucking god.”
“Shit, taking it so good. So goddamn beautiful like this.” Your body bounces with every one of his thrusts, the hand he has in your hair keeping you from bumping your head into the cupboard behind you. He tugs your face towards him.
“Open.”
Your mouth drops open, almost unconsciously, and Marc spits into your sticky mouth. He groans like he’s dying when you swallow, unthinking and so fucking dumb on his cock that it’s got him lightheaded.
“Good girl,” he groans, and you whine in the back of your throat at the praise. Every thrust into your sensitive pussy feels like lightning rocketing up your spine, and your legs raise higher around Marc’s hips, your heels digging into his ass, urging him in again and again.
 “Gonna cum, gonna fucking cum, Marc,” you whisper, your throat tight and achy. “Please, please, please,” you don’t really know what you’re begging for, not really, but Marc answers your pleas anyway.
“Right behind you baby, c’mon, c’mon,” Marc grunts, rutting into you feverishly. “Gotta feel this pretty pussy make a mess around my cock.”
You press yourself into his neck again as you cum, wetting his shoulder with tears as you gasp wetly, your body shuddering uncontrollably. Marc is murmuring little praises into your hair as he finally presses his hips as far as he can go, cock pulsing and filling you with his cum. “So good, baby, y’did so good for me. Looking so pretty for me, sweetheart, how did I manage to land you?”
You answer him with a chaste kiss, tilting your head up from his neck to meet his lips. You cling to each other, unwilling to let go while you will your heartbeats to beat slower, in time with one another.
Marc thinks that he could bask in this moment forever, with you in his arms, warm and soft against him. He hasn’t had a lot of softness in his life. Maybe you’re the softest thing in the world.
Then you giggle softly under his chin, and it sounds like sunlight. He tilts his head down to meet your eyes, mirroring your blinding smile.
“Damn, if I knew that wearing your sweaters would make you fuck me like that, I’d never take them off,” you whisper, unwilling to interrupt the unshakeable sense of peace that fills the kitchen.
“Baby, if you did that, we’d never make it out of the apartment.”
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nanagoswife · 2 years
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Gojo isn’t Jealous
Pairings: Gojo x fem!reader
Warnings: smut, jealousy sex, wall sex, unprotected sex, praise kink, slight degradation?, possessiveness, biting, marking, rough sex, fingering, edging, unedited
- - -
“Have fun with Nanamin?” Gojo says slightly bitterly as you make your way into your apartment. You told him that you’d be home late. All due to the fact that you were doing something with the first grade sorcerer. However, nights like this have been going on for just over a month now.
There’s a moment’s pause when he speaks. Mind you, he was sitting in your living room without any lights on. So how could you know your boyfriend was there?
“I thought I said to not wait up,” you say softly, a tired sigh leaving you as you drop your bag to the floor. “You need your sleep more than anyone, ‘Toru,” you add, pressing your back against the cool wall.
Gojo stands from the couch, stalking towards you. A small flicker of fear fills rises at the sight. It’s almost as if you’ve become his prey. If it weren’t for the uncertainty of what’s going on, this would probably send heat gathering in your lower belly. Unfortunately, that uncertainty is there. It doesn’t help that the room is dark and the only light that’s provided is coming from the streetlights.
Then, “Exactly how close are you with him?”
Once again you freeze. This time for a different reason. It’s to try and stop yourself from laughing at the insinuation. He must think that you and Nanami have grown closer than just friends. Well, it’s not like your late nights are helping with that. That, though, isn’t your fault. Not when you’ve been working to track down a curse user that’s fallen off the grid. Every time you get close, the two of you lose them yet again.
Still, when you look at it, you can see how anyone could come to the same conclusion as Gojo. You and Nanami were good friends but nothing more.
“Satoru,” you start as he draws ever closer to you, “nothing is going on.” You pause a moment, smiling a little to yourself at the thought. “Are you jealous?” you ask in a slightly teasing tone.
The teasing grin you wore is quickly replaced with surprise as he pins you to the wall. Blue eyes bore into yours as his hands hold your wrists above your head. His warm breath fans over your lips as he presses up against you. He angles himself in a way that you can feel his hard length through his sweatpants.
“How can I not when another man gets more time with you than I do,” he states lowly.
Gojo dips his head to graze his teeth along your jaw, causing a chill to run down your spine. Slowly, he starts lightly thrusting against you and you bite your lip when he lets out a pleasured groan. If you don’t say anything now, he’ll keep torturing you like this. You need to say something so that you can make up for lost time.
However, as you open your mouth to say you can show him you’re only his, his hands drop from your wrists. They move to hook under the backs of your thighs so he can lift you. A small squeal escapes you as you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. There’s no time wasted in your boyfriend now pressing his clothed erection against your core.
“‘Toru,” you whine as his lips find their place where your jaw meets your neck, “let me- mmm- let me make it up to you. For lost time.”
Your fingers thread through his soft white hair as Gojo’s lips trail up until they meet yours. There’s no hesitation from you as you return the eager and desperate kiss. Unfortunately, he pulls away which causes you to whine from the loss. You tried to chase his lips but you were rewarded with nothing.
“So needy,” he teases, one of his hands moving to slide in between your bodies, “is the rest of you just as desperate?”
It’s only a second later that his hand is slipping under the hem of your skirt and panties. Gojo slides his fingers through your folds just to find them absolutely soaking as you arch into his touch. A smug grin spreads his lips as he looks up at you. It only grows as he sees your eyes shut in pleasure, your head thrown back against the wall, just from this small touch.
“Look at you,” he drawls, “I’ve barely even started and your pretty little cunt is already begging for me to fill it up, hm?” A dark chuckle escapes him before he adds, “Does Nanami have the same effect on you?”
Your eyes widen in shock but, before you can respond, Gojo is pushing two fingers into you. A sharp moan escapes you as your fingers slightly tighten in his hair. It seems like his ego is growing with each reaction he’s pulling from you and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it. Especially with the fact that seeing your boyfriend jealous is absolutely attractive.
“Fuck, I can’t wait any more,” Gojo says suddenly, once again keeping you from answering him. Not only that but it rips your growing high away. So, as he removes his fingers from inside of you, you whine from the loss. Once again, his smug smile grows. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m gonna fill you up even better.”
With that, he shifts to push down his pants. Gojo shifts your skirt higher up and, instead of pushing them to the side, he rips the thin material of your panties off.
On a normal day you’d probably be upset with him. Now, though, it only fuels your desire for him. To know he’s so desperate to stuff you and make you completely forget about everything except for him has you in anticipation for what’s to come.
“I’m going to claim you,” Gojo growls just before shoving his cock into you in one push. You throw your head back with a breathy moan as you pull him closer. “I won’t stop until you understand that you only belong to me.”
The only thing you can manage is nod before he’s slamming his hips up into yours. It has you calling out in pleasure, dragging him in so his lips meet yours as he starts his hard thrusts. They’re not particularly fast but each brushes your sweet spot, his tip kissing your cervix on nearly each one.
Gojo’s pulls back from your kiss only to dip down to your neck and immediately starts sucking on your skin. He doesn’t leave it with just one spot made blue and purple either. His lips and tongue seem to not leave a single inch of you neck unmarked. Well, he’s at least making sure that they’re low enough that they’ll be mostly covered by your clothes. Mostly.
“‘Toru,” you moan, groaning in pleasure when he bites the sliver of exposed collarbone. “Faster. I need you to go faster please.”
That familiar smug grin is back on his lips and you can’t help the way your breath hitches when you see him now. As his eyes meet yours, his pupils are blown out in lust. Sweat is making the hairs over his forehead damp and his hair is messy from your hands. It’s a look that has a whole new feeling of arousal pooling in your lower belly. That’s not even including what he says next.
“Is that all you can do, baby?”
With that, he completely stills inside of you causing you to whine. He had been making you feel so good that suddenly ripping it away was almost painful. Yet you know what you need to do.
“Please, ‘Toru. Need you so bad. You’re the only one who can ever make me feel this way because I only belong to you. Please. Please, I need you faster,” you beg, your legs around his waist pulling him in closer.
Gojo grins as he leans in, his lips barely grazing yours. “How can I say no to my baby when she begs so nicely?”
Before you could say anything more, he’s pressing a sharp thrust into you. You cry out from the sensation just before he starts his faster pace. It causes you to cling onto him as he allows no time for you to recover. He doesn’t stop especially when he feels the way your thighs begin to tremble.
You’re so close and you know you need to tell him but you can’t. Not with the way he’s fucking you into the wall senseless. However, he knows you. So, the moment his nose nuzzles against the shell of your ear and mutters, “Cum for me,” lowly, it only take a few more thrusts before you’re coming undone.
As Gojo watches, relishing the way your walls clamp down on him, he doesn’t let up on his pace. Even when you come down from your high and tremble from overstimulation he doesn’t stop. If anything, it drives him to continue with the way you’re burying your face into the crook of his shoulder, your hands gripping at his back. It causes a groan to rip from him as he pushes you further against the wall.
One of his hands braces itself against the cool surface while the other stays firmly hooked under your thigh. With each thrust, he can feel himself growing closer to his own finish. This time he wants to make sure you reach your highs together.
So, nudging his head with yours so that you’re looking at him, he tells you, “Hold on tight.”
When you do, the hand hooked under your thigh comes between your bodies. He doesn’t stop until he’s playing with your clit. It causes you to let out a high pitched moan as you throw your head back. That proud feeling is once again overwhelming Gojo.
“Who do you belong to?” He asks as he bites your earlobe.
“You! Ah! Satoru, I only belong to you,” you say breathily as he works you to the edge.
“Can Nanamin also make you feel this way?”
You shake your head. “Never. Only you,” you manage.
Gojo’s smile is bright compared to the current situation. That’s not focused on for long as he whispers in your ear, “Then cum with me.”
It’s almost like him saying that was the cause for you to moan out his name as you clamp down on his cock for a second time. Only this time, he’s thrusting into you only a few more times before you feel him paint your walls white. He keeps pressing a few more thrusts in to help you come down from your high but also to push his seed as deep as possible before pulling out.
Even then, he doesn’t put you down. Instead, he’s carrying you to the bathroom and placing you on the edge of the tub.
“I’m almost tempted to continue these late nights if they’re all gonna end up like this,” you mutter tiredly as you watch Gojo get everything ready for the bath.
He chuckles. “Oh there’s no need. Not when you just proved to me you only belong to me. So, unfortunately, your efforts will be in vain,” he teases and you pout.
In the end, though, as you watch him turn the water on, you know it’s true. You just eliminated any reason he has to worry about anyone other guy. Especially Nanami. Is it wrong to say your upset that this won’t be an issue again?
- - -
@fiona782 @thereluctantherosrose @where-fantasy-meets-reality
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py-dreamer · 2 months
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me: i'm gonna work on one of my already existing aus!
This mofo: psst pssst hey...
Me: what...?
This mofo: what if...there was a corpse bride spicynoodles au...?
Me: I swear one of those already exists
This MOFO: Yea...but what about using the chinese wedding aesthetic?
Me: tempting but....
Life: Hey! Here's some brushes that utilises patterns traditionally used in decoration for chinese festivals!
Me:......f*ck it.
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here's a version sans the veil so you can see mk's beautiful deteriorating face! <3
Yea so I made a corpse bride au....
I WAS going to work on another shenanigans in space piece but then i found those brushes and an old sketch and decided to just wing it.
So Mk=Emily and Red Son=Victor
In all honesty, the brushes were an absolute joy to work with and I really look forward to using them in future!
I know technically speaking, it was the wedding rehearsal so RS shouldn't be in his wedding outfit but I couldn't resist
No glasses for this lad. Not on his wedding. I refuse.
The little letter on both their outfits is a character that means togetherness I believe, commonly used in weddings.
Patterns on the bottom for mountains and such since his family has always kinda lived on mountains (heck, they had one of their very on in jttw)
TINY FLOWERS IN HAIR AND DELICATE JEWELLERY ON EARS! YES!!!
Not much else to say about the guy, I am really pleased with his design :)
MK! Ooo boy...
His color pallette was difficult to work with, I ended up color picking from lbd, possessed wukong and Emily herself
I wanted to go for more of a clouds theme and stars (flowers of course cause, wedding. Duh) and had to resist bringing him out cause it is a plot point that all of mk's jewels were stolen.
Also no headband. I don't know if he'd wear it to his wedding but in this au, he doesn't for the time being.
Cultural references!
If anyone remembers that tumblr thread bout mulan's drag name 'hua ping' being slang for a twink this is similar.
Another slang for gayness is cut sleeve (there's a whole ass story bout a gay emperor and his boyfriend) but anyways since Emily's arm was rotting away there, I thought it appropriate. (Tied in with that rip up to his thigh in the robe, I think you get the picture lol)
For anyone drawing a hanfu or traditional Chinese clothing in general, it's meant to be folded right over left (see red son for reference),the other way round is for the dead. And I thought that be a fun detail as well as the white robe being used for the dead as opposed to the red one for celebration
anyway that's all I can think of for now, I'm going to bed before I get yelled at :D
reblogs > likes
(Click photo for less sh!tty quality)
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A/N = 😐 So, this is my first time writing about Rengoku. And I'm ngl, this shit had me a little hot and bothered. @peachdues You're an angel for reminding me how much I love this song. It just does somethin' to me 🤷‍♀️.
CW = Implied y/n. Iiii mmmeann ... just ... nothing too, too graphic. But to be safe, MDNI NSFW 🔞.
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Bedtime is the Best Time
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"Babe? Are you coming?"
"Y-yeah. Be right there."
● Kyojuro walks into the room where you lay on your stomach in bed. Scrolling through your phone watching the most recently posted kitten videos.
● "You watching kitten videos again," he asks. Knowing full well you are. But he doesn't blame you. They're so damn cute.
● "Come to bed."
● "Yeah, yeah, for sure. Jus' g'na brush my teeth." He left you to finish the video about the kitten playing with its moms tail. One of his personal favorites.
● You slipped out of his t-shirt that you always wore to sleep in and laid back down.
● "Do you need anything before I come in there?" You landed a good man.
●"Nope, jus' want you."
● Kyojuro came into the bedroom and threw his shirt in the dirty laundry, glancing over at you. He felt like something was maybe up with you. But nothing seemed out of the ordinary. So he went about bedtime as usual.
● "Well, get ready, my little firecracker, for I have arrived!" He spread his arms and jumped to the bed, landing abruptly on you.
● The man is 95.999% muscle. He was heavy but in this utterly delicious way.
● You're both laughing at his dumb sense of humor, swiping away stray hair from each other's face. Thoroughly enjoying the sweet moment.
● But you look at each others' lips for a second too long and then back into each other's eyes.
● Looks of playfulness are quickly being replaced by a serious lust for the other person you just shared such a whimsical moment with.
● Smiles easily give way to a darkness as you stare down your lover.
● Your breathing and heart rates increase as the touching between you becomes more needy. It's no longer fun, funny, carefree.
● Kyojuro stands up resolutely and takes off his clothes. His cock springs to his abdomen. Precum already glistening in his slit.
● His hair is bright and wild around his face as he starts to wrap his hand around the leaky tip. Looking at you in such a way, you find yourself a little scared.
● The noises he's making are animalistic.
● Grunts.
● He wraps his whole hand around himself.
● Growls.
● His head drops as he looks up at you from under his barely dewy brow.
● He takes a step closer to the bed.
● He takes a step closer to you.
● Kyojuro is on you before you can say anything. His lips haphazardly cover every inch of your burning flesh.
● His fingers explore every opening that will succumb to his findings.
● "You're so tight," he says, as he struggles to control himself. "S'tight everywhere. Let me inside of you. Pl-please. I must get inside of you."
● You feel your pussy gush with an oasis that only he could draw from you.
● You nod your head fast, and you nod hard.
● "Kyo ... fuck me. N- now. *God*, please now."
● He falls at your feet. Worshipping you the best way he knows how.
● Kissing the tops of your feet as he holds your calves in his large hands, sliding them further up.
● He kisses your knees. All the while never taking his eyes off of yours. Reducing you to a trembling mess beneath his observance and his touch.
● He slides your legs together and darts his tongue in and out of the thickest part of your thighs. Moaning into them how much he fucking loves you. Your smell. How he wants to eat you alive.
● He nudges your legs apart and tells you "I love you, my wildfire," before he pushes you down and leaves one hand on your sternum while the other spreads you open for him in every sense of the word.
● He lays you out on the bed and tongues your folds apart so he can see how wet you are for him. Under him. Around him.
● His scalding eyes hold your attention as he kisses your clit and his rough fingers ease their way into your sleek core.
● "My god," he whispers as he slides his fingers back out. Admiring the gooey juices from your cunt that are now coating his skin.
● Kyojuro buries his face in your pussy so far you wonder how he'll breathe. "You are my life. I will breathe you. Now stay down, little inferno."
● You give yourself over to him wholly, and you are not now, nor have you ever been, disappointed.
● He knows just what you need and is ever voracious in his delivery.
● You're so close now. He feels this escalation before you're even fully aware. The tightrope he has you walking is about to snap out from underneath this precarious balance.
● His hands come up under your ass and he rests your thighs on either side of his ears. Your legs slam over his temples. Muffled cries are what he's here for.
● Kyo will hold you down tighter until you're sobbing. Promising the God's that next time your prayers involving this man won't be so greedy.
● But the God's and Kyo know those are lies you shout in vein. You overestimated your tolerance for orgasm after orgasm to be dragged from your body.
● The God's won't hear your sobs anymore. Only Kyojuro, as he licks around his mouth and sucks his fingers clean of you. Only Kyojuro will give you what you need now.
● He runs his fingers over your drenched pussy and then starts rubbing his cock slowly. Padding you with his full length.
● Your body jerks up at his arrival. You're still sensitive from him eating you out. But he fills you so perfectly.
● Kyo rolls his hips into you over and over. Tearing the most sinful and downright filthy noises from your body.
● You say his name under your breath like he could be the one to save you from yourself.
● But he just continues to bring your bodies together like he, himself, would cease to exist if he did not share himself with you ... only you.
● Your release is fast approaching. He is not far behind.
● You squeeze and suck his cock into you. He loses focus over who's fucking who here.
● You feel so perfect to him. He likes to think that he's doing you the best he can for you. That he's your best boy.
● But how you look so undone as he loses control of his body and thrusts into you a few more times.
● Leaving you both with a completely fucked out and impassioned expression on your drooling faces.
●The remaining part of him in you blankets you in a small flood of white. And what manages to escape, he will rub on your clit, once again testing his theory about what your body can endure.
● Oh yes. You can be sure that Kyojuro talks to the God's, as well. And every day he wakes up to you next to him, is one more orison actualized.
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psychedelic-ink · 1 year
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𝑰 𝒈𝒐 '𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 '𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅
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pairing: din djarin x fem!reader
genre: smut, minors dni
word count: 1.1k
summary: waking up with din is a fun experience.
warnings: morning sex, established relationship, soft!din, feral!din, underwear ripping, piv, blindfold, helmetless!din, praise kink, fingering, multiple orgasms, mild breeding kink, creampie, biting
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You slowly come to consciousness, enveloped by the soothing hum of the Razor Crest's machinery. Din's arm is a warm weight around your waist, fingertips feather-light above your stomach. You keep your eyes closed. As Din begins to stir, you can feel his breath on the back of your neck, a gentle caress. 
“My eyes are closed,” you mutter, voice deep with sleep. “You can put your helmet on,” 
You hear a soft inhale of breath. His hand slides up your waist, squeezing as he presses a soft kiss into your shoulder. You sigh happily, wishing nothing more to feel those same pair of lips against your own. Your eyes are still closed when you move your hand to his face, feeling his rugged, shortened beard and jawline. His lips move up the round slope of your shoulder, the tip of his tongue gently peaking out. 
“It’s still early,” he slurs. A shudder climbs up your spine with the way his lips move against your skin. “‘want to feel your heat, mesh'la.” 
You dive your fingers into his soft hair, a soft tug, an eager plea dropping from your lips. His hand finds refuge between your legs, thick fingers dipping into the seam of your underwear. He groans at the wetness, his cock pressing heavily into your back. 
The silence of the morning is broken with a sudden moan falling from your lips. Your eyelids flutter, threatening to open. 
“Din,” you warn, his fingers moving up and down your clothed sex. His thumb brushes over your clit, your cunt clenches. “If you continue that I don’t think I can keep my eyes closed,” 
His hands briefly desert your body and you can’t help the whine you let out. A loud rip echoes, followed up by a soft fabric being tied around your eyes. 
“What did you rip?” you ask, touching the makeshift blindfold with a chuckle. 
“Nothing important.” 
Much to your surprise, Din flips you to your back. Your heart thrums loudly in your chest, beating fast. You feel his breath on your skin, then you feel his lips on your breast. He draws a stiff nipple into his mouth, tongue moving around as he pinches the other, coaxing a hiss from you. 
You clench at the way he devours you, hands eager to touch, mouth eager to taste. He grinds his hips, cock moving slowly between your folds, your arousal grows, underwear is nearly see-through by how wet you are. 
“I can feel it,” growls, mouth languidly moving down. “How are you so wet already? Did you see a good dream?” 
Your hips lift off the bed when he claws at the net of your underwear with both hands, you feel the sting of his nails and moan. 
“Not particularly,” you gasp. “It’s your fault I’m like this.” 
“I’ll happily take the blame.” 
And with that, a loud rip echoes, louder than the first one, and this time you know what he’s shredding to pieces with nothing but his fingers. The same fingers that have protected you for the sake of harming others, you buzz at the display of strength.  You feel the crisp morning air against your bare, soaked cunt. It flutters, more slick dripping down. 
You feel Din's fingers slide over your slick folds, his touch sending waves of pleasure through you. You can't help the whine that escapes your lips as he teases your entrance, his thumb circling your clit. You lift your hips, craving more of his touch.
"I want you," you murmur, your voice laced with desire. "I need you, Din."
Din growls in response, his fingers slipping inside you. You moan loudly, your body trembling as he begins to thrust. You feel the heat radiating off of his body, the musky scent of his skin filling your nostrils. You run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer as you beg for more.
Din obliges, his lips finding yours in a hungry kiss. You whine into his mouth as his tongue tangles with yours, his hands roaming over your body. You can feel his fingers exploring every inch of your skin.
"I love the way you feel around me," Din says, his lips moving to your neck as he continues to move inside you. "You're so tight, mesh'la. So wet. I could stay like this forever."
"Don't stop," you pant. "Please, I'm so close."
Din responds by increasing his pace, his fingers moving faster inside you as he sucks on your neck. You cry out as you climax, your body convulsing around Din's fingers as wave after wave of pleasure wash over you.
As you come down from your high, Din slowly withdraws his fingers and positions himself at your entrance. You feel him push inside you, his cock filling you completely. You moan as he begins to move, your body still sensitive. You can feel every inch of him, his cock moving slowly between your folds as he grinds his hips. Your eyes are squeezed shut under the blindfold, every nerve burning with the drag of his cock.
"You feel so good," Din whispers, his lips moving to your ear. "I love being inside you."
“Diiiin—” 
You squeeze him tight, body about to tumble over the edge once more. He feels bigger than usual, he stretches you wide, slamming his cock harder and harder with every whimper and moan you make. His nails bite into your waist, pulling you in synch with his thrusts. Slick wets his cock and the sheets underneath. You run your hands over his back, feeling the sweat that coats his skin.
His movements grow desperate, needy. It almost feels like he doesn’t know where to hold with the way his hands rake across your body, squeezing and pulling at your flesh. 
You cry out his name as you come again, your body convulsing around his cock. Din follows soon after, his own release spilling inside of you. It’s hot, and so so much. Your eyes roll back, an animalistic sound rattling your chest alongside your throat. His teeth sink into the swell of your breast and he pushes more of himself deeper into you.
Your body aches when he pulls out, the slow trickle of come makes you shiver. 
“That’s some way to start the morning,” you say, panting heavily. “How do you expect me to function for the rest of the day?” 
A peaceful silence answers your question. His fingers tug at your blindfold and a modulated voice follows. “I don’t. We can take today off. We don’t have any urgent bounties.” 
“Wait, really?” you blink with a smile spreading across your lips. “So we can stay all day in bed?” 
“Well…” 
Grabbing his hand, you tug him down to join you. His chuckle is contagious, your own laughter joining his. You kiss the visor of his helmet and nuzzle his bare chest. 
Today is going to be perfect. 
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1ivinqdeadqir1 · 1 year
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Porcelain Doll
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Walter White x Student! Reader
a/n: this is shorter than usual for my fics but lmk if you guys would like chapter two as this was sooooooooo fun to write (one where maybe Walt makes a move on the reader after arguing with Skyler about Ted... ;) )
word count: 1.8k
WARNING(s): Teacher - Student relationship, the reader is big brain, Walt is conflicted icl but when is he not conflicted? nothing inappropriate yet just an allusion to mutual sexual and romantic attraction. READER IS 18 but she is STILL a student so it's a taboo relationship nonetheless
“Are you listening to me?”
You looked up at the man standing in front of your desk, his weight pivoted to one side as his arms were crossed and folded. His green knit sweater looked warm, smiling, you wondered what it’d look like on you, and whether or not he’d find it attractive to see one of his best students wearing his clothes.
“Yes, sorry, I just… zoned out for a moment” he sighed and brought a hand to his chin, where his forefinger and thumb grazed the scruff of brown facial hair in thought.
“I don’t think you are, y/n”
You go to open your mouth but close it again when he raises his hand as if to tell you to be quiet.
“Your grades are slipping again, you’ve gone from an A+ to a D in less than a few weeks, we’ve only just gone over the molecular structures and bonding and you seem to have gotten the working out right but answers wrong… I don’t get it, it’s like-“ and then there’s a pause, and you fiddle with your nails- eyes staring down at your lap as Mr White seeks out the right way to put it, “it’s like… you know what to do, but you’re just intentionally changing the answers from your correct working out”
You scoff, and he furrows his brows, glasses catching the artificial light in their lenses. “Maybe I just don’t understand what to do with my working out once I’ve finished with it,” you argue “There are so many different routes you have to pursue to find the final answer, maybe I just picked the wrong one” shrugging, you rest your forearms on the desk, tipping forward slightly as you do. You draw shapes across the cold surface with your fingers.
“Yes but you set it out in such a way that it doesn't make sense for you to pick the wrong one, there are other students who make a mess organizing their answers- they scribble out and write over until it’s almost impossible to make sense of,” his hands motion toward two imaginary groups as he illustrates his point, the hair above his upper lip shifts as he speaks.
“But your answers are structured in a way it’d be near enough impossible for you to not know which answer is the final one, do you understand my concern?” You nod, and the embarrassment of being found out seeps through the wall of pride you’d tried to sustain. “You’re my brightest student, so it’s just surprising to see such an obscure mistake in your work”
Your cheeks burn warm and red, you hope he doesn’t notice- it’s pathetic, really. Crushing on your teacher, a cliche that a lot of people found insulting. You’d tried to suppress your feelings for him, but the little chemistry jokes he’d make sometimes in class alongside how enthusiastic he was about the subject was enough to make you swoon. It was adorable, and you wanted to just pinch his cheeks. He’d acknowledge your potential in the past: ‘excellent as always’ along with other kind messages was scribbled across a majority of your homework and tests, a crudely drawn smiley face with glasses doodled alongside in matching red ink.
But as of recently, he’d been paying less attention to you and your work. Occasionally, you’d stay behind once the bell had rung to ask him chemistry questions and chat, but now whenever you did he’d just shut you down with a dismissive ‘I’m busy’ or a ‘maybe tomorrow’ despite ‘tomorrow’ sometimes being a Saturday.
You knew he’d still speak to Barry for failing, so you figured that maybe you’d have to start messing up for him to start talking to you again. It was selfish, sure, but you wanted him to like you, to like talking to you as you did with him.
“I-I’m sorry, I’ve just been a bit..” you try to find an excuse, but when you can’t you purse your lips together- your eyes scrunched shut as you prepare yourself for what you’re about to ask, “Mr. White, have I done something wrong? I-I know that’s weird to ask but- hear me out, okay?”
His green eyes widen momentarily, he stumbles for a reply but eventually finds that an ‘Alright’ slips past his lips with as much decorum as a baby giraffe trying to find its feet.
“I like your lessons, a lot, they’re my favorite part of the day, and-” your hands tremble against the surface of the table, so you ball them up and push them down to rest atop your thighs. “I can imagine you're busy, but I feel like I’ve done something to annoy you- you know? Like when I used to ask questions after lessons and we’d talk…” your eyes don’t dare meet his, and you feel like you’re going to start crying as the shame and embarrassment bubbles in your chest.
“You’re the only person I actually feel comfortable opening up to, and I know you still talk to Barry about his work when he messes up, so I figured I’d-“
“-You decided to intentionally write the wrong answers on the tests to get my attention…” he’s in disbelief, and you look up, eyes meeting him as he shifts his weight onto his left leg and pinches the bridge between his nose.
“Yes, it’s stupid, but I really like talking to you, Mr. White, I like talking with you about Chemistry and I like listening to your… weird teacher stories, and shitty-“ fuck, “-interesting, jokes… I love spending time with you"
You exhale, finally, as it feels like you’ve been holding your breath for the last five minutes. Relief overtakes the shame you’d felt, and the anxiety of opening up. It was done now, there was nothing you could do to take back what you’d just said. It wasn’t an outright statement admitting your unrequited feelings for him, but he was smart enough to infer that you liked him more than you’d liked anyone else.
“I-I’m sorry for making you feel like that, Miss l/n” he starts, leaning against his desk as you meet his stare- one that’s so familiar but now is like looking at a stranger. “I’ve been busy, I- you know I’ve told you about my wife, right?”
Swallowing back the word you’d been trying to ignore, you nod, “yes,”
“Well, you know that it’s been hard to stick around here after hours because of the baby- there’s just a lot going on at the moment,” and the fact his wife is cheating on him, but he refrains from mentioning that.
“Oh, congratulations” in an ill attempt to sound happy for the man you were in love with, you manage to sound more disheartened than you would’ve initially.
“Thank you,”
There’s another awkward silence, you look down at your feet, picking at your fingers. Walter moves from his desk to around the side of yours, he leans his hand on the table and sighs, you hadn’t even noticed he was there until his Clark wallabee shoes slip into your peripheral.
“Look, you’re a lovely young lady and I enjoy talking to you, but you’re my student, you're smart enough to know how wrong that is,” he waits for a reaction, and you nod, glancing at him as you take your teeth between your lower lip. Now you really feel like crying. This is a nightmare, you should’ve just said your imaginary dog died, maybe then you’d avoid this awkward conversation.
“And believe me when I say I’m flattered,” more than flattered, actually. You were an attractive young woman and he’d be lying if he denied having thoughts about you that were similar to those of when he’d first set eyes upon his now wife. Yet still, he valued his job, and he loved his family. Despite how much of a bitch skyler had been recently, they were married, and if someone found out about him having an affair - let alone an affair with a STUDENT - he’d be done for.
“you’re young, you should be focusing on yourself and your future, with that head on your shoulders you’ll without a doubt do amazing things. And I’m not ‘just saying that’ to appease you.”
You look up at him, and he’s smiling in a way you’d smile at someone who’s just lost something precious and dear to them.
“I-I didn’t mean to feel like this, I just… I love everything about you it’s hard not to like you, I- I've always liked older guys, no offense or anything but.. it really is difficult,” you pause, and he goes to add something but you cut him off before he can, “This was stupid, a stupid idea I know and I should’ve just waited it out, but… can I ask you a question? And be honest with me, please, I won’t tell anyone.”
For a moment he contemplates, but eventually gives in. The look of desperation that glimmers in your eyes as they glaze over with tears was enough to push him over that edge. You had this crush on him, you really did think he was perfect. God, he felt horrible. How little you knew of what he’d done.
“Do you- if-“ you sigh, turn to face him, hands in your lap as your cheeks flush- almost matching the red ink that graces your failed test paper, which still sits on the table between the both of you. “If I wasn’t your student, hypothetically, and you saw me in a bar or out in public and I talked to you, would you like me back?”
He wants to say no, but deceiving you after all that is dishonorable. He figured that you deserved the truth after being so open and honest with him now.
“Yes, I think”
You forget you’re sitting in a classroom when you move your hand to his left, which is pressed against the table. Tracing the pads of your fingers over his knuckles- feeling the gold wedding band that fits him perfectly, you smile and he smiles back.
It does boost your ego a little to know that had you not been his student, you would’ve had a chance with this man. God, it sounded silly now. Crushing on your 50-year-old chemistry teacher. He was a person behind that facade, a father and a husband.
Despite how selfish you could be, you wouldn't force him from that. He was a good man, intelligent- you valued his word.
“You… don’t think… less of me now, do you?”
He chuckles, it’s low within his chest and he reaches to brush your hair back with his fingers. You close your eyes and melt into the warmth that’s there. He does it with such care and delicacy, as though you’d break beneath the slightest amount of pressure.
A porcelain doll, pure and fragile.
A/N: alright that's that! let me know what you guys think down below and lmk if you're all up for a part 2...
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bathylychnops · 3 months
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iwant to make a slideshow or something to gush properly about my favorite artists here but i wont make a slideshow iwill just listthem and tryto say a clear amount about each one
most ofwhat inspires me is shapes and like balance of detail and simplification, colors and compostion.. just somuch,... ouh..
alot ofthese are gonna be 'love how they simplify things' because i add too many details and lines and make a drawing stiff and i cant like, see the drawing underneath allthe load-bearing details gfsfgs
@wigglybug im not biased because thisis my wife he is just also my favorite artist and i adore everything about her colors, character designs, stylization of shapes especially, like with just a few lines she can make very visually pleasing but informing shapes, inspires me to draw more just for the fun of it, and somuch more but icant talkabout murphy onthis post anymore itwill go on forever
@sarakipin inspires me to keep shapes clear & bold but also so delicate details and design & scene elements, also makes me wantto make more full scenes, with backgrounds and more ambitious illustrations
@siins STYLIZATION fun shapes and expressions its all so dynamic but very solid, with bold lines and bright colors its just wonderful like every character is immediately recognizeable and so fun
@slowopoke gosh shapes colors movement and ilove their style, and warm colors i love warm colors in art. very clean but rough scratchy lineart in a soft way? its very good, also another onethat makes me want to simplify my shapes and art more to leave room for details
@peachdeluxe linework, goodd character designs and clear fun expressions, i LOVE how they stylize hair, clothing folds and coloring is just delightful
@cherryspliced again, very clear shapes and character designs, very EXPRESSIVE too and it all feels so solid like their fanart feels like its his own ocs
@thetrashppl inspired me to loosen up shapes and lines and make more dynamic expressions and lines, like rougher but clear sketching, and has a delightful artstyle like very sharp but also round and solid
therestoo many more i have toomany thoughts but notenough energy to write them but iwill tag my friends ilove their art (not tagging like so theyhave to do their version of this post, just so youguys canlook atyeir art)
@honeyginsen @mythicalmeowz @phthalomus @juicedeletedagainwoahshockerwow adn ihave more friends but idont know ifthey wanttobe tagged
icant tag them but ilove leyendecker and norman rockwell, any old painted pinups but especially the Duane Bryers 'Hilda' pinups...
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