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#when bones 👁️👁️

soh-da-meatball · 8 months

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Some sketches to help with my Baldur’s Gate brainrot 👁️👁️ I drew Karlach and Astarion dancing because we all know Karlach’s got a boogie bone in her and when was the last time Astarion got to dance like no one was watching? Let the boy dance!!

#astarion #karlach #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #karlach cliffgate #baldur’s gate astarion #baldur’s gate karlach #baldur’s gate fanart #my art #meatball art

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highvern · 2 months

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Patterns I

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: smut (21+), eventual fluff/angst

Summary: Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. So what does it mean when you find yourself in Wonwoo's bed over and over again?

Chapter Warnings: fuckboy(ish) wonwoo, friends(?) with benefits, multiple sex scenes, oral (f. & m. receiving), choking, face fucking, penetrative sex

Length: ~10k

Note: woooohoooo part 1 done. let me know what you guys think! thank you @gyuswhore for being my beta and talking me down from a complete meltdown lmao

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

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This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

“And if you look at this chart, you can see profit margins over the past three quarters have steadily increased…”

Mona drones on and on. You try to listen and nod along but there’s only so much enthusiasm that can be faked for a last minute afternoon meeting on a Friday. Maybe if she was saying anything with an ounce of meaning you’d pay attention. But the numbers she spout off on record profits only confirm what the company who hired your team already knows: if they give their employees more work for less pay, they’ll make more money.

The vibration of your phone wakes you up. Peering into your lap under the table, you see your roommate’s name flash across the screen.

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: ruby’s tonight Y/N: Do I have a choice?

You don’t even lock your phone before she responds.

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: nope!

“Y/N, do you mind sharing the latest reports?”

Head jerking up, you meet Mona’s gaze across the room. She flashes a tight smile, clearly having caught your moment of distraction. Lucky for you, you could recite the reports in your sleep.

You smile and say all the right things; make all the right jokes. Just enough personality they feel special but not so much they feel like you’re a real human being outside of your job.

“All right. I think we’ve covered everything.” Mona claps. “Edgar and I will be on call this weekend if anything comes up.”

Shuffling out with the rest of your coworkers, you beeline back to your desk.

Mona breezes by, slamming the door to her office shut.

“Do you think Mona has eyes in the back of her head?” Edgar asks, peeking over the wall dividing your cubicles.

Without looking away from the email crowding your screen you quip, “No, but I hear she sleeps in a coffin.”

“Huh. I thought that was just the hottest office furniture tread for execs.”

You snort in response.

Mona was a hard ass but she was good at her job.

“Anyway, any plans this weekend?”

“Get drunk and watch Love Island.”

Edgar gasps, hand to his chest like a scandalized debutant. “You wild woman.”

The next two hours crawl by. Not even the usual side projects keep you entertained, giving you time to research the new art installation downtown Lisa mentioned visiting.

Hopefully buying tickets as her early birthday present will get you off the hook for tonight.

In true Lisa fashion, a surprise gift means celebration. And the best place to celebrate is Ruby’s.

Smoke chokes the air, bodies upon bodies packed into the space of the dingy bar on a Friday night. The chill of the outside stops at the threshold of the door, sweltering heat greeting you and your friends as you join the crows eager to celebrate the weekend.

It’s almost too dark to see faces but Mingyu’s head of dark hair stands above the rest from his perch in the corner. Lisa’s hand finds yours, and your other hand find’s Amina as you shoulder towards the table he’s claimed for the night. The bass of whatever remix blaring through the DJ’s speakers thrums through the crush of drunk patrons like a frantic heartbeat, rattling your bones with each step deeper into the space.

The glossy surface of the table is already littered with cups and beer bottles. Mingyu cuts his conversation with Wonwoo short to greet your group, smiling over Lisa’s head already buried in his chest. Wonwoo's only acknowledgement is a short nod over the top of the bottle he lifts to his lips.

A pair of not so sly eyes wander down your front, tracing across the deep v of your top, baring your sternum between the swell of your breasts. You burn under Wonwoo’s blatant gawking, breath stalled and face hot but none of your friends appear to notice the electricity crackling between you two, intoxicated brains filling with lewd ideas.

Needing a reprieve, you slither to the bar in search of a drink. Slipping between the sweaty bodies as they part, Amina follows close behind. A few shots and a beer later, you stumble towards the dance floor with laughter on your lips and the bitter singe of alcohol on your tongue.

The crowd of strangers accepts you, swallowing you into the churning chaos immediately. A few familiar faces stand out in the crowd as you shift through the sway.

Looking over the shoulder of the random person in front of you, a mess of limbs better known as Lisa and Mingyu flashes into view; Soonyoung and Eva no better next to them. Over their embrace, you spot Amina dancing with a pretty stranger of her own, both of them with drunk smiles plastered on their faces.

Head dizzily bobbing to the music, your eyes slip shut. You know it's Wonwoo at your back, hips following closely, one hand around your waist and the other dragging a path of fire across your thigh.

This wasn’t the first time you found yourselves in this particular position. Since your roommates started dating, and whenever alcohol was close enough to serve as a believable excuse, you managed to find each other like super charged magnets; gluing together and drowning heady touches.

It wasn’t like anything more happened. That was the excuse you told yourself after the first time. A girls night out Mingyu and Wonwoo happened to stumble upon. You’d still been upset about the breakup with Seungcheol two months prior, indulging in the shitty white wine that only served to fuel your boldness.

You’d never admit seeking out Wonwoo with the knowledge Seungcheol couldn’t stand him; taking sick satisfaction in imagining the look on Seungcheol’s face as you let Wonwoo touch the way previously reserved for him. You pressed against Wonwoo’s front with little care for who saw; a challenging gleam in your glassy eyes, daring him to push away. Not one to be bested, Wonwoo pressed back, and the rest is history.

After the first night of the new game, you went home and came embarrassingly fast to the fantasy of what would have inevitably happened if he’d followed. The week after consisted of staunchly avoiding Wonwoo. Guilt and disgust plagued every waking moment, and if you had to look at him you knew you’d feel worse.

Your only real connection was your roommate Lisa dating his roommate Mingyu which meant your evasiveness went undetected for nearly a month before Wonwoo managed to corner you at a party and demand to know what your “fucking problem” was. It was then you realized he either didn’t remember what happened or didn’t think it was anything to make such a big deal about. You never asked for specifics but came to the conclusion: If he didn’t care, then why should you? It was just a bit of fun. A game of chicken neither intended to end.

Each time you came across each other on the weekends after, the stakes increased. One night, you let wandering hands catalog the planes hard muscle hidden underneath the fabric of his shirt. The next, you followed a trail of goosebumps across his neck with tongue and teeth.

And Wonwoo called your bluff everytime. His thumb tracing against the underside of your breast while delivering a particularly harsh grind of his hips, leaving very little to the imagination of what hid behind the zipper of his jeans. Or when he spun you around, hypnotizing you with his eyes while pawing your ass, dragging your core across his thigh wedged between your legs.

But whatever transpired fizzled away by the time the night ended, both of you content to go separate ways and ignore whatever was left on the dance floor (or occasionally a wall). Tonight would be no different. It never was. It never would be.

Wonwoo was fun to play with but that's all. Throw him flirty smiles, indulge in the bold touches, take a thrill in the chase and then retreat to the safety of the bar or drag one of your friends to the bathroom for a break. He let go without any argument; something you found disappointing much to your own chagrin. But Wonwoo’s eyes never left your figure the second it left his arms. Even if he found a new partner, he would watch you while he did everything he had already done and then all the things he would have done if you stayed.

“Come home with me,” he whispers in your ear, more of a command than a question, breaking the delicate silence surrounding your unspoken attraction.

The air in your chest thickens to a sludge. For a second, you think you misheard him, possibly hallucinating that he’s spoken at all. With the thrum of music and shouts it’s not out of the question.

Unable to turn in his tight grip, you settle for leaning back against his shoulder, neck stretching, giving him a direct view down your top, his eyes privy to the fact that you hadn’t worn a bra. His chest plastered against your back heaves with a heavy breath as you continue to move against him.

Wonwoo tries again, his hand squeezing your waist gently, pulling you closer to his body to feel the evidence of his arousal. “Come home with me.”

It's just the next level to the game, you think. The fantasy is tempting; taking you back to his apartment, spreading you out across his bed and making good on all the promises he’s teased into your skin for months.

If he wants to play, you’ll play too.

“What’s in it for me?” you hum, lips brushing his ear in a mimic of his motion moments ago.

Wonwoo responds with another curl of his hips against your ass.

God, he’s good at this. Wonwoo is the only guy to spark any kind of interest since Seungcheol left months ago. Not for lack of trying but they were either too tall, too short, weird hair, awful laugh. The list of excuses goes on and on. Subconsciously, you’d been comparing them all to the man behind you and found each of them lacking. But if Wonwoo wants to progress to the next level, he’ll need to work for it.

“Not convincing enough,” you chide.

The hand on your thigh pauses, taking a second to squeeze the supple flesh before setting a new course. Wonwoo moves slowly, giving you plenty of time to stop his advance if you wish. Not sensing an objection, he pushes forward. Even over the thick denim of your jeans, Wonwoo’s palm scorches against the zipper. Continuing lower, he grinds the heel of his palm against your clothed pussy, nothing more than mockery of the real thing but it has you shuddering all the same. The slope of your shoulder stings under his mouth, licking waves of fire across the nerves with each nip of his teeth.

Wonwoo pants against the shell of your ear on the next rock of his hand, laughing as your nails dig into his wrist before he whispers, “Unless you want our friends to watch, trust me.”

You need to see his face; need to look in Wonwoo’s eyes and find out if he’s trying to rile you up or if he’s serious.

This time when you move, Wonwoo allows you to turn in his hold. The look in his eyes tells you he would take you right here if he thought for a second you’d let him. He isn’t trying to just get a rise out of you and see you squirm. Wonwoo isn’t playing a game anymore.

He wants you.

You nod once and Wonwoo has you both out the door and on the way to his place before the song ends.

The cold metal of the door bites into your skin, bowing your chest straight into Wonwoo’s as he crowds against you, arms caging you in on both sides. His lips are busy surveying the skin of your neck, sucking and nipping until he pauses at the hollow of your throat. His teeth raze against the sensitive skin, tongue darting out to lave against the marks he’s determined to leave. Wonwoo listens closely to the sounds leaving your throat, focusing his ministrations whenever an exceptionally satisfied purr slips out.

He takes a step forward at the feel of your hand pushing its way into his jacket, rewarding the tease of your fingers across his stomach with a suck against your jaw. The sharp pain of your nails across his scalp forces a quiet groan out his lips; something you file away for later.

“Get us inside before your neighbors catch us with my hand down your pants,” you gasp, giving his hair a particularly harsh yank to pull him away from your breasts peeking out from the low cut of your top.

“Wouldn’t mind that,” he mumbles, diving back.

But Wonwoo concedes, grabbing his keys from his pocket while remaining focused on leaving his mark on your sternum.

Despite your request, you do everything but make it easier for him; thumb dipping into the waistband of his boxers before slipping inside, cupping the straining bulge confined under the tight fabric. Wonwoo falters under your attention, pressing his hips into you until you're crushed between his body and the door. When Wonwoo finally fumbles the key into the lock, the door flies open under your combined weight.

Using the momentum, Wonwoo crowds you back to the wall just inside, slamming the door shut with his foot, returning where he left off without missing a beat. A hand tilts your chin back to give him more room, and you realize he hasn’t kissed you yet. Twisting the front of his shirt, you resolve to change that.

Pulling back, Wonwoo’s brows arching in confusion, mouth falling opening to complain at being interrupted again but snapping shut when you attempt to pull him forward.

But a hair's breadth away Wonwoo stops.

“What do you want?”

You won’t beg. If anyone is cracking first it’ll be Wonwoo. Just like he did at the bar not too long ago.

“If you won’t tell me then I can’t give it to you.” He moves forward, nose tracing along your throat, breath fanning across your neck. One of his arms moves to the space between your body and the wall, pulling until his thigh is bracketed by yours. The hard muscle is nothing short heaven against the seam of your jeans, invoking a traitorous whimper from your throat.

You manage a chaste kiss against the side of his mouth before he darts out of range.

“Tell me and you can have it,” Wonwoo says, cocking his head back, looking down his nose at you from behind the wire frames of his glasses; pupils blown. His eyes close and he leans forward again before continuing, “Tell me what you want, and you can have everything.”

His teeth trail across the shell of your ear on the last word and suddenly it's all too much. The rasp of his voice, the flex of his thigh, the layers of clothing separating your bodies. If you don’t get relief soon you’ll both implode.

“Kiss me.”

You feel Wonwoo’s satisfied smile a second before your lips meet, lighting the fuse for what's to come. There’s no gentleness in the connection, instead, months of insatiable need leads the way. Parting your lips, you suck his own between your teeth until it's swollen in retaliation. Wonwoo angles your head back with a gentle tug of your hair, immediately swallowing your gasp at his roughness. The hand wrapped around the middle of your back flexes, urging, no, begging you to grind against him. You oblige with embarrassing eagerness.

Your hand finds its way down Wonwoo’s front again, fingers firm and demanding. Tracing the zipper of his jeans up and down in time with your movement against his leg, the heel of your hand presses forward, causing his hips to cant up against the pressure. The motion is a mock of what he was doing in the crowded bar minutes ago. Just enough to rile him up and to piss him off until his hands drop and squeeze your ass so hard it hurts.

Refusing to let your mouths part, Wonwoo drags you down the hallway towards his room. It takes longer than it should, both of you stopping to force the other into the wall, bodies writhing against one another in search of friction and pleasure. At one point you consider letting him fuck you right their on the floor but he pushes through the door to his room just before you can unzip his pants.

Finally inside, Wonwoo herds you towards the bed in the corner. The back of your knees hit the side, bending as you land with a soft bounce. Wonwoo follows swiftly, settling himself on his elbows before diving back into your neck again. His hips slot into the warm cradle of your thighs easily, pressing forward to search for the heat he knows is there. You greedily return the movement, hips curling up, savoring the drag of his hard cock. Wonwoo sucks another bruise onto your neck, high enough you’ll have to hide it in the morning but you're so drunk on the idea of what is going to happen next you can’t even feign outrage.

The strap of your flimsy top falls down and Wonwoo moves to explore the new span of skin. His lips drag over the uncovered swell of your breast, sloppy kisses trailing over the silky skin. Cocking his head to the side, he sucks a nipple through the thin black fabric. Your hips buck, back arching at the new sensation. The angle of Wonwoo’s cock is just right, pulling moan after moan from your throat. He’s so focused on what he’s doing he can’t be bothered to snicker at how he turns you into an aching puddle of want.

Clothes come off in a blur. You watch his abs flex as he rips his shirt over his head, eyes tracing the dark thatch of hair disappearing under the waistband of his pants. Soon, yours is gone too, lost on the floor. Wonwoo's eyes delight in the sight of you bare before him, with nipples puckered and breasts heavy with excitement. He ducks back down, mouthing at the sensitive bud, drowning in your breathy whines and whimpers. Using his hand, his calloused thumb massages the one his mouth had abandoned, pinching and flicking until you’re left raw and aching.

“Wonwoo,” you cry, hands ripping at the sheets when his teeth come out to play.

He pulls back from your breasts, in a frenzy to remove your pants while his knees fall to the ground on the side of the bed. You arch up to help him rip the damning fabric away. An ember of fury sparks, furious with yourself for wearing jeans over the skimpy skirt Lisa had offered.

None the wiser, Wonwoo looks between your legs like he’s found an oasis in a desert. You realize too late they’re nothing impressive. Pale pink cotton; simple, practical. Just like your pants, since getting fucked tonight wasn’t even a remote possibility when you left your apartment.

But Wonwoo doesn’t even seem to care. When you dare to look at his face, worried by the sudden pause in his actions, you find he’s not even blinking. His thumb finds your entrance through the fabric, shallowly dipping inside before moving back and massaging teasing circles over the damp spot.

Pride and ego long forgotten, you beg. “Wonwoo, please.”

Wonwoo doesn’t give in. Focusing on the curve of your thigh, nose etching along the strained muscle while he continues teasing touches over your underwear. The wet of his tongue comes out when he reaches the hem of your underwear. So close to where you want him but not close enough.

“Please.”

The pathetic crack of your voice is rewarded with firmer fingers and his lips against the sticky crotch of your panties; the heat of his mouth right over your entrance as he laps at your release.

Another beg and he moves aside the thin strip of fabric, curling his tongue into your entrance before sucking at your swollen clit.

The relief is short lived. Somehow, Wonwoo knows exactly how to touch and tease you, driving you up the wall only to pull you back down. One hand finds your knee, forcing it away when you try to crush his head between your thighs at the first prod of his long fingers inside you.

He slips another finger inside, his tongue continuing to swipe at your bundle of nerves, just as desperate to give you what you want as you are to receive it. Glancing down at him again, you find a scene worthy of being immortalized in a painting. His brow is furrowed in concentration, eyes pinched tight while he works to get you off.

A pause to take a breath is all the reprieve you’re granted before Wonwoo dives back in, moaning under the sting of your nails on his scalp; encouraging you to hold him there and use him, to come for him. The symphony of your combined noises floods the room. The squelch of his fingers, rubbing up against the place that drives you mad. The wet noises of his mouth, your arousal mixing with his spit; his noises when you pull at his hair, vibrating against your cunt and pulling your spine into a harsh curve.

You can’t help but watch him. Enamoured with how right he looks between your legs, skin slips together where his shoulders hold your legs up. Even the contrast of his hand on your knee fuels the fire.

He peers up at you when you call his name again. Eyes burning into your own. Like he can read your mind. Like he agrees this is the best place for him to be.

You hear yourself far away, chanting his name as you shatter into a million pieces. Clenching around Wonwoo’s fingers with a strength you didn't know you possessed, your hips ride them until your muscles lock and jerk. The smear of fluid across your thighs, slipping your ass and onto the bed is lewd.

But Wonwoo doesn’t stop, working you through it like his own release is on the line. Licking and sucking and fucking you with his fingers until you finally manage to pull him away with a choked cry of his name. Even then, his hand continues pistoning into you as your mouths find one another hungrily.

There's a sick satisfaction in your gut at the taste on his mouth. Your arousal coats his chin, his cheeks, even the tip of his nose is wet where it digs into your face as you suck his tongue.

Moving to his feet, Wonwoo bends over you, lips never straying from yours. He fails to crowd you down into the mattress like he intends. Freezing when your hands pushing his pants down the rest of the way. His cock bobs, the nearly purple head leaking. If there was any doubt he didn’t find pleasure going down on you before, the evidence of his enjoyment sits hard and heavy in your palm. An exploratory squeeze has Wonwoo’s chin dropping to his chest, a sharp breath leaving his nose.

Sliding off the bed and to your knees, you peek up at him through your lashes, letting the tip rest against parted lips. When Wonwoo drags his head back up, looking down his nose, your tongue darts out to catch some of his pre-cum, receiving another groan in response. A thought that has you blushing rears its head.

He’ll probably like it, you think.

You let one of her hands trail down while kissing across the velvety shaft his length. Wonwoo watches closely, eyes widening for a second when you find the apex of your thighs, dipping down to collect the lingering slickness. Once satisfied, you exchange your grip on his cock and quirk an eyebrow. Stroking him coyly.

You don’t look away from his eyes even though every instinct tells you to hide from the heat in his gaze. Your palm catches at the tip, thumb brushing his leaking slit. More evidence of his arousal trickles out and you lap it up quickly.

“Shit,” Wonwoo hisses. “Fuck, you’re so good.”

One of Wonwoo’s hands finds your cheek, helping you find a comfortable pace. Settling the back of your head against the bed, drag him forward by his ass, content to let him use your mouth the way you used his. Wonwoo stumbles for a second at the sudden movement, hands finding the bed to prevent himself from collapsing. He peers down in question.

“Want you to fuck my mouth,” you pant, quickly taking him back in, going as deep as possible without gagging.

“Fuuuuck,” Wonwoo rasps, moving the hand on the side of your face to the back of your head. He pins you in place with his hips, giving a shallow, almost hesitant thrust as he discovers your limits.

You zone out when he finds a rhythm, hand at the base of his cock to keep him from bottoming out in your throat, the one cradling his balls dropping to trace the inside of his thigh. Eventually, Wonwoo lets himself go, savoring the pressure of your tongue when you lap against the tip as he pulls out. His abs twitch at the sight of drool leaking from the corners of your stuffed mouth, lips stretched and bruised around his cock.

Opening your eyes, you look right at him; punching the air from his chest as you moan around his cock, the vibration forcing his head back, neck bared again as a bead of sweat settles in the hollow of his throat.

“Touch yourself,” Wonwoo commands, breaking the melody of whimpers and groans.

You disregard his command, content with focusing on untying him from his loose tether to sanity.

Not one to be ignored, Wonwoo pulls away on the next stroke. You follow, attempting to trail forward and suck him back down your throat but Wonwoo’s hand knots in your hair. He yanks your head back until his cock is just out of range. Looking up at him, you do nothing to hide the annoyance at such a sudden disruption.

“Touch. Yourself. ” he lets out tightly, enunciating each syllable. Equally annoyed but willing to make a point.

“Wanna watch me?” you goad, smug as the tips of his ears redden.

Instead of brushing it off, Wonwoo takes the bait.

“Yeah I do,” he says, one hand leaving your hair, guiding the tip of his cock across the seam of your lips, letting out a humorless laugh when your tongue reaches out to meet it on instinct. “Wanna watch while you suck my cock because you’re a good girl.”

He lets you take the head, teeth grinding under the dig of your tongue into the slit. But any attempt to take more is punished with another tug of your hair. Until his hand circles your throat and he pulls you off completely.

“Right, Y/N?”

The praise goes straight to your head, breath stunted. You barely nod before Wonwoo moves his hips forward again, slowly resuming their previous rhythm at the promise of seeing you put on a show. Two fingers slip in with ease, disappointment bubbling when the stretch doesn’t come anywhere close to his but you’ll play along for now if it means getting to feel his cum on your tongue.

Wet, messy noises echo in the room. You hollow your cheeks, hand acting as a bumper while letting his cock kiss the back of your throat. Wonwoo’s hips stutter when you swallow around him. The tension in his muscles doubles your effort, set on the satisfaction of making him cum from just your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” Wonwoo hisses, pulling you off.

Wonwoo hauls you up into the bed, aggressively crowding you towards the pillows. The cool sheets sting against your back, but you focus on getting another fist around his cock. Wonwoo intercepts your plans before you can make it below his navel. He pins the offending appendage next to your head; grip loose enough you could break if you wanted, but the tease of his dominance turns you on even more and it's not long before he has both hands above your head, and a disapproving look on his face.

“If you don’t want me to come on your thigh, I suggest keeping your hands to yourself,” he states, leaning towards the bedside table, searching for a condom.

“Didn’t think you’d be that easy,” you bite back. Planting your feet on the bed, your hips grind up into his.

“Says the woman who begged for my cock,” Wonwoo grinds out, flattening his chest into yours, teasing with exactly what you asked for.

You're suddenly hit by how much stronger Wonwoo is than you. Able to have your entire body pinned like it’s nothing while working the condom on at the same time. You knew he worked out, broad shoulders and narrow waist giving him away; but having that strength used you sends a swirl of butterflies through your stomach.

Wonwoo resorts to ripping open the packet with his teeth, hips easing up to quickly roll it down his length. He rubs himself through your folds, collecting the wetness and repeatedly tapping himself to your clit. You’re about to flip him around and take matters into your own hands when he catches on your entrance and presses home in a slow thrust.

He slides deep. Deeper than Seungcheol, deeper than anyone you’ve ever been with. You barely get a chance to savor it before he’s moving, wasting no time before working up a pace meant to drive you both mad.

“Shit,” you curse.

Wonwoo huffs into your neck, tongue tracing the shell of your ear. “Yeah? Feel good?”

“Soooo good.”

Wonwoo lets go of your hands, tangling one the sheets, the other searching for the top of the metal headboard. The change in position folds you in half, giving him the leverage to fuck as deep as possible. Finding your hands free, one claws at his back, leaving bright red lines in its wake. The other grabs for his ass, squeezing the muscle there, helping him press forward. His balls clapping against the swell of your ass drives you closer to hysteria.

Your second orgasm rushes forward, resting on his lips finding yours. The connection is bruising, all teeth and tongues. The hand on his ass falls to play with yourself and Wonwoo breaks away to watch.

“Like that, Y/N?” Wonwoo bites, whispering right into your ear. “Fuck, you're so tight, baby.”

His words only add to the inferno. The need to come overwhelms you, demanding satisfaction to the point it hurts. But you need more. Needs something you can’t name and only Wonwoo can give.

Frustration twists your features, eyebrows furrowed and mouth tense. Almost as if he senses your oncoming tantrum, Wonwoo drops more of his weight, pressing you into the mattress and filling you to the brink.

“Be a good girl,” Wonwoo coos, hip punctuating each word while his teeth tug at your earlobe. “Come for me.”

His permission is the key. Bombs explode behind your eyelids, cascading colors against the black and white. Loud moans rush from your throat to fill his room, muscles locked, body convulsing with endorphins. You want to kiss him again, until you can’t breathe, until you stop needing oxygen and adapt to survive on the taste of his mouth.

Wonwoo must feel the same, meeting you in a lazy kiss, too fucked out to put in more effort. He swallows every whimper, the syllables of his name while he fucks you through your high. The wetness smeared between your bodies echoes all the motions, his pistoning hips driving more and more from your worn cunt.

His own high rushes for him at light speed. Pulling back, he rests his forehead against yours. You burn the last bit of energy you possess to open your eyes and find his. Wonwoo’s face is tight as a thin sheen of sweat covers his body. All you want now is to see him cum, give him as much pleasure as he’s given you. Reaching up, your lips brush his ear one last time.

“Wanna feel you come,” you sigh. “Please, Woo.”

The responding groan signals success. His hips stutter forward, a deep grunt bursts from his chest. If you weren’t exhausted, you’d demand to go again; to fuck him again and again just to see the twitch of his lips as he empties himself into you, the grind of his teeth, and shudder of his chest. But Wonwoo gives one more hard drive of his hips before collapsing, completely spent.

You don't know how long you stay like that, drifting in and out of consciousness as sweat dries, and your thighs becoming uncomfortably sticky. When Wonwoo moves to pull out, a surprising whine rips from your throat.

“Shower?” he asks, husky voice breaking the lingering silence.

You finally crack an eye open at Wonwoo’s voice, and find him looking at you with soft eyes. Uh oh. Warning bells fire but you’re too tired to care. A shower sounds lovely.

Wonwoo hauls you up, leading you into his small bathroom. The water in the shower is already running, steam escaping the stall as he ushers you under. The scratches at his back contrast brightly against his pale skin, a few bite marks spattered across his chest. You know you look equally debauched but the lull of warm water calms any concerns. The silence is comfortable, thick as you move like zombies. Wonwoo passes his body wash without a word, moving to shampoo his hair. Swapping between the brutally frigid air and the comforting warm water under the shower head, you both race to finish up quickly. Once satisfied, Wonwoo shuts off the faucet and grabs the towels from the hook on the wall. He hands you one before stepping out to dry himself. A spare toothbrush waits on the counter when you exit the stall.

Wonwoo leaves first, heading back to his room to dress. It gives you the opportunity to look in the mirror for the first time. Your skin glows, both from the steam and Wonwoo’s attention. Across your throat, bruises cluster like a necklace, splotches of darkness maring the skin. Unfolding the towel, you find more littered across your breasts, and an impressive one on the inside of your thigh.

After the shock fades, exhaustion creeps back in. It had to be far into the early hours of the morning. You hope Mingyu stayed with Lisa at your shared apartment. Having to face Wonwoo in the morning was enough horror, but if Mingyu heard anything then you would never be able to look him in the eye again despite having heard your roommate and him more times than you can count.

Returning to Wonwoo’s room, you see him already under the covers, spread out on his stomach with his face squashed into the pillow. On his desk sits a tshirt and a pair of old shorts. Hanging the towel up in his bathroom, you snag the shirt and pull it on.

Finding your pants, you fish out your phone and see the time: 3:47AM. A few missed calls from Amina, several dozen texts from the group chat, and one from Lisa that reads “You better not be where I think you are” clutter the screen.

There's no point in arguing the accusation. She has your location, you know she checked it before she went to bed. And in the morning you’ll have to answer every inane question that pops into her head. But for now, you need to sleep.

Sliding open the group text, you send a quick “I'm alive, see u in the morning for brunch?” tossing your phone aside.

Your head hits the pillow and you’re out like a light.

The dream you’re lost in is lovely. A faceless figure bends you over a desk, your heated face pressed against the glossy wood. Naked as the day you were born, nothing protecting your nipples from rubbing against the cold surface, hardening until you hiss from sensitivity. Large warm palms massage your ass, hands pushing upwards, lightly parting the cheeks to give him more leverage to lick at your leaking hole. You can feel him moan, echoing your own sounds of pleasure as he indulges. One hand finds its way back to his head, fingers tangling in his short hair, holding him in place as you rise on tiptoes to move against his mouth. He feels familiar but it doesn’t matter who he is, more so what he plans to do. Just as a thumb swipes against your other hole, pulling a shocked gasp from your lips, it all comes crashing down.

You claw at the tendrils of pleasure slipping past to no avail. Harsh whispers outside your door pull you awake as they gain volume. It isn’t out of the ordinary to hear snippets of your roommates’ conversations as they pass down the hall towards their own rooms. Having the first room off the kitchen was the sacrifice you made to have a bigger closet and a better view. Usually though, Lisa and Amina had the decency to not have a full blowout so early, and on a weekend no less.

As the whispers crescendo into a one sided screaming match, you make out Lisa and Mingyu’s voices on the other side of the thin wood.

“Mingyu if you don’t move out of my way there will be TWO BODIES TO CLEAN UP.”

Lisa is pissed, using a tone of voice saved for rare occasions. Occasions you rarely witnessed Mingyu be on the receiving end of. Whatever he had done, he better pray Lisa forgives him. He also better pray you forgive him for working Lisa’s temper up so early in the morning.

“Shut the fuck up!” you yell, voice thick with sleep, refusing to open your eyes against the light trickling in from the window above. Snuggling deeper in the soft covers, you try to force yourself back asleep, hoping to reunite with the anonymous dream man.

When did the window get above your bed?

You shoot up, instantly regretting the decision. Splinters of pain shoot behind your left eye causing you to collapse back into the pillows to find reprieve. The grumble next to you sends your heart racing.

“I’m going to kill her,” a gravely male voice threatens.

Turning on your side, you brave the torturous sunlight to catch Wonwoo’s profile. His face is scrunched in annoyance, eyes shut as he too tries to get lost in the blankets. He drags the comforter over your heads, pulling you towards him to hide in the curve of your throat.

It all comes rushing back. Going home with him, your dirty deeds, the shared shower. You beg the powers that be to kill you when you remember how you begged with embarrassing ease.

Outside his door, Lisa bellows and forces the door open; sending it cracking against the wall with the force.

The blanket rips down, uncovering who's hiding underneath. She only manages to pull it below your shoulder before you and Wonwoo realize what's happening and clutch at the fabric. Thank god you both are wearing clothes.

“What the fuck?” Wonwoo’s voice is acidic as he looks to Mingyu over Lisa’s head. Mingyu at least has the decency to look apologetic as Lisa acts like an overly concerned mother who just found her daughter with a boy in her bed.

“See? Y/N is alive, we can leave now,” Mingyu tries in vain to placate his girlfriend. Lisa snatches her hand away from him when he attempts to pull her out of Wonwoo’s room.

Lisa’s eyes take in your tousled hair, the bruises at both your necks, the clothes littered on the floor haphazardly. She isn’t stupid, she knows exactly what has happened. Lisa also knows Wonwoo wouldn’t take advantage of you, but she is still protective nonetheless. The amused look spreading across her face nearly sends you out the window and to the cement several stories below.

“Oh my god, are you fifteen?” Her question is pointed at Wonwoo, catching the string of hickies marking your neck.

“How about you get the fuck out of my room?” Wonwoo bites, raising his voice. He burrows under your chin, dragging the blanket over his head once again.

“We’ll talk about this later!” Lisa calls as Mingyu finally drags her out the door, her voice is muffled by the slam of it shutting but you clearly hear her yell, “Brunch is in an hour!”

Finally left alone, you mind races to prepare for the interrogation waiting for you. Wonwoo appears to be unaware of any such troubles. Cuddling down into the swell of your breasts, he’s already trailing back towards sleep.

Despite yourself, the hand stuck under him rises up to gently trace shapes across the expanse of his back. The warm skin lulls you into a trance as the memories from the hours prior replay.

“Are you sure I can stay?” A deep yawn warps your voice. You’re already halfway under the covers, hoping he doesn’t change his mind. If you have to stay awake any longer you’ll have a meltdown.

“Yes.” His face is still pushed into his pillow, voice distorted by the barrier and slurred with his sleep. “Now shut up and sleep.”

And you do just that. Shocking, given you’re a horrible bed partner; tossing and turning most of the night, waking frequently. Seungcheol experienced many grumpy mornings courtesy of your poor sleep hygiene after a sleepover. But in Wonwoo’s bed, your restlessness decides to take the night off, allowing you to sleep like a rock.

It can’t have been more than a couple hours before you awake again. Despite the short snooze, you’re more rested than you’ve been in months. Stretching with a yawn, you find what roused you awake.

Somehow Wonwoo found you in his sleep, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, body firm against your back. He’s hot skin and hard muscle, the tent in his boxers sliding roughly across the naked skin of your thighs. Cursing yourself for forgoing the shorts he laid out, you try and twist away only for Wonwoo’s length to settle between the dip of your ass.

You freeze solid. Listening to the sound of his breathing stop then even out once again. Waiting to confirm he’s still asleep, you try moving away again only for his hips to press against you once you wiggle against him. Body acting on its own, your spine curls, sending your ass back into his crotch.

And then Wonwoo’s arm around your waist flexes and he thrusts forward.

Shit.

“Can I help you?” he asks, face buried somewhere between your shoulder blades, nose tracing your spine until he finds the bare skin of your neck to leave heated gossamer kisses.

There’s nothing left to lose. You’ve already fucked. Wonwoo face to face with your most intimate parts, and you the same. You begged him to cum inside you for Christ's sake. Giving another curl of your hips, you decide to meet his challenge.

“Can you?” you whisper into the darkness, eyes sliding close again as a tired breath leaves your nose. It's less of a goad, and more of a subtle beg for his attention.

Wonwoo drags the hand wrapped around your waist downward, wedging it between your thighs gently. You’re already wet from the brief movements against one another. He wastes no time, immediately framing your clit with two fingers, teasing friction to warm you up. The first twitch into his hand has his fingers dropping, pushing into your entrance as you parts your legs to make more room. His movements are sluggish but he placates your want the best he can.

One of your hands slides under the covers, moving behind your back to grab him. The unmistakable heat greets you through the fabric of his underwear. His breath stutters against your back, his chest pressed tightly against your back like a second skin. Wonwoo jerks forward through your fist, clothed tip prodding against the soft curve of your ass when you reach the base.

Continuing to move just like that, you both are more than content to get off like this, much too tired to put in any real effort. But when you push down his boxer just enough to feel the hot velvet skin of his tip against the dip of your spine, leaking from light touches, Wonwoo decides he wants more. Needs more.

He pushes your hand away, directing himself between your legs, resting his tip at your entrance. With shallow thrusts forward, he lets himself catch on the ring of muscle just inside, barely parting your walls. The thought of him returning deep inside you, condom nowhere to be found, makes you drool. At some point Wonwoo’s hand finds your waist again, this time under the fabric of the flimsy t-shirt. The thick cotton bunches across your breasts, teasing your sensitive nipples while his hand splays between and pulls you against him.

You have half a mind to let him fuck you like this, raw, half asleep, tucked under the covers in the silence of his room. The other half blares with sirens and red lights flashing DANGER! DANGER! DANGER!

The louder part of your brain, the one that sounds suspiciously like when Amina scolded you for not using condoms with Seungcheol after getting an IUD, wins.

It takes all the strength you possess to break the trance Wonwoo has. His lips have taken to mouthing at the back of your neck, his nose tracing the notches of your spine while his tongue sends goosebumps blooming.

“Condom.” you finally manage to breathe out, voice pushing past the thick blanket of lust and fatigue.

The hand on your chest flies off, moving in the direction of the bedside table. Within seconds Wonwoo wraps himself in the latex and pushes inside.

The stretch is perfect, muscles already accommodating his languid thrusts inside you. His hips are tucked tightly along your ass, barely a sliver of space between your bodies. One of Wonwoo’s hands reaches back under your shirt to thumb your sore nipples, letting a heavy flesh rest in his palm. The arm propped under your head reaches out, Wonwoo’s fingers twisting in the pillow cases. The web of veins and muscles flex with each cant, almost ripping the fabric of the sheet apart when you clench around him.

As if having a mind of its own, a hand trails up his neck, cradling the back of his head and tangling in short locks of hair. Wonwoo hitches his chin over your shoulder, leaning forward to moan right into your ear. Your other hand takes the abandoned post at your clit, determined to make yourself cum and pass back out in the next five minutes.

Unlike the explosions earlier, your orgasm crawls up slowly, bubbling to the surface in a smooth simmer. Your thighs tighten, twitching as the pot boils over and melting you into Wonwoo’s chest. He follows you over the edge quickly, hips continuing their fluid rhythm until they stutter against your ass; shuddering breaths leaving his chest, a quiet groan of satisfaction punctuating his content. You can’t move even if your life depends on it, heaviness settling in your muscles like concrete.

You're already descending back into the realm of dreams when Wonwoo slips away.

Wonwoo’s soft snores jolt you back. You’re far too awake to try joining him. And you can’t just stay in his room forever. Glancing around the room, you devise an escape plan. Wonwoo’s position doesn’t lend any subtlety, any effort to move from under him requires you to lift his entire weight.

You sit still for another minute, contemplating the potential pros and cons if he is awake to see you run, away from the sanctuary of his room and into the reality sitting beyond the door. Precisely as you decide to deal with whatever teasing he’ll no doubt hurl your way, Wonwoo shifts, burrowing back into the pillow on his side to provide easy access. Waiting with bated breath, you’re relieved when the muscles of his back expand with a deep inhale as he settles in slumber once again.

Springing out of bed, you collect your phone and wrinkled clothes. The shocking level of cleanliness and organization the room possesses for a man his age aids your quest. However, your underwear appears to be a lost cause. With haste, you search under the bed, eyes scouring the area around his desk, even sneaking a quick glance back towards him to see if the missing garment is mixed with the pillows. All is fruitless as the bright pink garments have disappeared, gone without a trace.

After slipping on your pants with impressive speed, you're out of his bedroom and into the hallway. Body on autopilot, you tiptoe towards the front door.

The cracked door of Mingyu’s room where Lisa is no doubt waiting to ambush lingers just ahead. You don’t dare to breathe as you breeze past and ruin her plans. The heavy metal of the front door groans at your pull, tensing as noise echoes in the hallway behind you. You’re swift, slipping between the crack in the door frame and into the stairwell before Lisa can even call out your name. By the time Lisa is able to pull the front door back open, you’re down the stairs and halfway through the lobby, beelining for the busy street outside.

Everyone on the street can tell you’re taking a walk of shame; their judgment burning into your skull with each step closer to home. The tale tell signs are clear as day: messy hair, t-shirt clearly belonging to someone else, eyes downcast as you move along the congested sidewalk of a Saturday morning. The only solace is the neck of Wonwoo's shirt covering a majority of the marks staining your skin.

You don’t breathe until you round the block of your apartment. Thankfully the lobby is empty and so is the elevator as you ride up in stifling silence. Slipping through the crack of the sliding doors, you rush the remaining distance and finally find your way into sanctuary.

The door clicks shut, and the dull thud of your head meeting metal rings a second later; the cool melt against the sweat on your brow is a lovely reprieve.

The sound of a throat clearing down the hall less so.

Glaring over your shoulder, you find Amina leaning over the kitchen island, an eyebrow cocked inquisitively. Lisa clearly informed her of the morning's findings.

Her lips twitch with humor, choking out, “Have a good night?”

“Shut up,” you grumble, launching off the door and to your room. Sharp laughter meets your back.

Hiding away in the bathroom, you cloak yourself in steam and scrub away any remnants of the night. Starting with the piney smell of Wonwoo’s body wash.

You run through the facts despite wanting nothing more than forgetting the entire ordeal.

Fact: Wonwoo isn’t as horrible as Seungcheol made you believe.

Opinion: He’s still infuriating.

Fact: You slept with Wonwoo.

Opinion: It wasn’t half bad.

Fact: You won’t do it again.

Thirty minutes later, the hot water runs out and you’re forced back into reality.

She can’t look in the mirror, knowing exactly what you’ll see. The proof that can’t be scrubbed away, the proof that the you let Wonwoo fuck you silly, and that you wouldn’t mind if it happened again.

Some time later, hidden amongst the piles of blankets littering your bed, you mope. The hood of your sweatshirt tied tightly around your head leaving only your face visible. The TV hums with the drunk gibberish of the reality tv show cast as they laugh and cry over something innocuous.

A soft knock on the door breaks your focus, Amina appearing in the opening.

“Are you still coming to breakfast?” She asks.

“Don’t feel good.”

“Y/N,” Amina sighs, sitting on the edge of your bed. “It’s not that bad.”

You almost swallow your tongue. Of all your friends, Amina dislikes Wonwoo the most. She’s polite as she can be for Lisa and Mingyu’s sake, but everyone knows they get on as well as fire and water.

“Who are you?” you question, eyes widening at the impersonator perched at your feet.

Amina cackles in response, and you can’t help but join.

“You had fun, right?” Amina asks, waiting for your nod before continuing.“Okay, then who cares?”

“You don’t?”

“No,” Amina sighs. “You’ve been…”

She pauses, weighing her next words. “...down, since Seungcheol left. Maybe this is what you needed to get back out there.”

You start to object but fail to find any evidence against her claim. Seungcheol leaving turned your world upside down. You couldn’t hate him. It wasn’t like he didn’t try to make things work. But there was nothing for you in Seattle, just like there was nothing for him in New York. Other than each other. Somehow it’s much harder when no one is to blame other than unchangeable circumstances.

Amina rubs your knee over the covers. “It’s not my business who you sleep with. Unless you bring him here and I hear you, then I reserve the right to kill you both.”

“Trust me, it won’t be happening again.”

“Why?” Now it’s Amina’s turn to be shocked. “Was it that bad?”

“No!” You blurt, face heating at the sudden outburst. “It was just a one time thing. Get it out of the system.”

Amina hums. Silence falling between you.

“So… was he better than Seungcheol?” Amina asks like she doesn’t care either way but you know she’s curious. She heard enough times about the lack of chemistry between you and Seungcheol for to have a vested interest in your sex life.

Truthfully, he was. The best experience with Seungcheol paled in comparison next to your night with Wonwoo.

Taking silence as an answer, Amina stands.

“Get dressed. Eva is already on the way here to pick us up.”

She leaves with out another word.

Across town, Wonwoo contemplates the ramifications of murder.

The morning after a night like his should have him walking around like the sun shined out of his ass. Instead, the most annoying person in the city chose to rain on his parade. That person is coincidentally his best friend's girlfriend.

If it hadn’t been for Lisa’s shouts this morning, he’s more than confident you would have agreed to a repeat of the nights events. Maybe even two or three if he was lucky.

But no, you sprinted from his bed the second he feigned sleep. Watching through barely cracked eyes, he almost broke his cover when you nearly fell head first into the door knob, hastily trying to pull your pants up and walk at the same time.

Wonwoo let you go, no snide comments or crude remarks. He knew if he wanted you to return to his bed then the best way was to bite his tongue. Goading had worked the first time, now he’d have to let your curiosity get the better of you. You would come back sooner or later, and he'd be ready when it happened.

He’d given you a few minutes to find your way out, hoping you avoided Lisa and saved you both the embarrassment. The slam of the front door and lack of screaming informed him of your success. Wanting to make sure you were long gone before he exited his room, Wonwoo took his time brushing his teeth. Catching himself in the mirror, his reflection gave a self-satisfied smirk. The stain of your teeth and lips contrasted against his skin and his back stung along the raised red welts from your nails.

Flicking off the light, Wonwoo heads towards back to his room. Lisa will demand audience sooner or later and it's better if he rips the bandaid off now. In his peripheral, a swatch of pale pink fabric tucked underneath one of the legs of his dresser catches his attention. Ducking down, he puls at the stretch of cotton. Lifting them up to inspect the out of place garment, Wonwoo finds himself face to face with your panties. He huffs a laugh before crumbling them in his hand, and tossing them in the hamper on the way out of his room.

Lisa waits for him at the dining table; commanding the head seat like a mob boss.

From her perch, she watches him with keen interest that makes his bowl of cereal taste like mush. Mingyu already excused himself to take a shower before Wonwoo sat down, attempting to avoid the ensuing blow out.

Every question is answered with one word answers or dismissive grunts. Even Lisa’s attempts to bait him into unrelated arguments roll off. Lisa chisels away at any sign of weakness but Wonwoo refuses to give her the satisfaction of seeing him squirm. It’s none of her business. Even if you’re her best friend.

Wonwoo counts his blessings when a call comes through her phone, the vibration on the table interrupting her attempt to burn a hole through his skull. Lisa rises to answer, pacing the kitchen while the feminine voice coming out the receiver chatters on. She ducks her head into Mingyu’s room, bidding him farewell. As she passes Wonwoo again on her way out, she gives him another furious look to let him know she isn’t done with their “conversation”.

To rub salt in the wound, Wonwoo sends her off with an overly friendly smile and a wiggle of his fingers. He wipes down his face when the door slam shuts, shoulders dropping. He knew hooking up with you might cause problems. He didn’t know they would become evident so quickly, but problems nonetheless.

Worth it, he thinks

The look on her face when she came for him made anything Lisa planned to throw his worth the price.

Wonwoo didn’t care what any of them had to say, you both were grown adults. He wanted to sleep with and you wanted to sleep with him. End of conversation. Anyone else’s opinion meant nothing.

And if things go the way he thinks they will, he’ll get to see you in his bed again.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @lovelyhachi

Series Taglist: @aaniag @sdoulc @wonvsmile @jeonwonwooscutie @wonrangwoo @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @yogurttea @4cheezflatbred @fragmentof-indifference @p-dwiddle @icedearlgreytea @cottoncheol @hoshiskimchi @listxn @kwonshiho

#ksmutsociety #kvanity #svthub #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt smut #🫡 highvern

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dr3c0mix · 11 months

Note

what would your characters react to reader wanting to squeeze their chest? like they jutst walk up to them all shy and stuff and they just mutter out if they can touch da boob, especially valeth and baron 👁️👁️

Asking Them If They Can Squeeze Their Chest

My OCs x GN Reader

CW: touching the booba, a bit suggestive themes in some parts

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Adrian scoffs while hiding his red face. "Pfft huh? What are you, some kind of pervert? Hah! W-wait why are you walking away! I didn't say no dumbass!" please cup his moobs he is begging you please hold them gently in your hands

Brandon is a bit embarrassed and doesn't know what to do.. Does he need to take off his shirt? Should he shower first? He's just had practice! If you compliment him afterwards he's blacking out over how flustered he is from you touching him.

Valeth is happy to let you feel him! A true warrior has no shame when it comes to showing off their body. You must admire your loving mate very much! He loves looking down at you as you feel him. Your eyes look like stars as your hands squeeze his chest, he won't lie, he might ask you to do this again.

Bo is a bit hesitant. Are you sure? There's not a lot left.. If you insist, he will sheepishly lift up his shirt and look away, he doesn't want to seeing him all shy. Please reassure him that you love him and his looks, he's very insecure about his body, the poor boy.

Screw is flustered. "Wh-what?! Y-you wanna- with me? Uhm..o-ok! P-please me gentle!" He's very ticklish so he's trying not to laugh while you touch him, you're both just very very flustered during the entire ordeal, Soda and Rib's was laughing their bones off watching the two of you.

Ribs is confused. "I...don't have any..."

Soda is flat but you're welcome to touch him. You are his mate after all :)

Wolfie rolls over and wags his tail. Please please please ! His leg kicks frantically as you rub his chest. Please nuzzle your face in his chest! He'll pull you close and lick your cheek telling how cute you are.

Dorik stand up and quickly lifts up his sweater. "Anything for you Master!......why are you not doing it yet?"

Kalva cocks his head in confusion. You have to act out that wanna honka honka his boobas and once he realizes what you're asking, he does a little :0 face and hops closer to you and sits down politely. He give you permission. :3

Jasper is in shock, he is frozen. If you ask if he's ok, he tries his best to compose himself and give you permission. He tries to look indifferent to it but he's not hiding his grin very well.

Viktor stops sipping his tea for a moment, his cheeks a bit red. "P-pardon me, my Dear?" Of course you can uhm...feel..him...if he had a heartbeat, it would be beating so fast it would sound like humming.

Garrick is ready for you to do it, he's read your mind, his tits already out to be honked baby. He's on the bed waiting for you to hop in with him. 'For the full experience' he says.

Silas has a smirk on his face and leans closer to your face. "My dear sweet (Y/N), you really want to do such a thing~? Well then, how about we go up to our quarters so you can feel me all you want~"

Baron's cold facade breaks for a moment as you ask him, his saliva gets caught in his throat and he starts coughing out of surprise. Once he regains his composure he flatly agrees and gulps when your hands touch his chest. He doesn't utter a word or sound the whole time. When you look back up at him, he has a nosebleed. "I-it's nothing Boss, I'm fine..please continue.."

Caspian swoons and coos so much, you almost drop the request all together. "Oh my! How romantic! How forward! You're so sudden my Treasure, I love it!~" He's very loud and sensitive so expect him to make some questionable sounds if you ask him.

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nekoashiii · 2 years

Note

I saw some funny headcanons from another fandom where in their world they don't really know cracking your fingers or neck and they consider it breaking a bone

imagine the chaos in the sagau when that's the same in teyvat and the creator cracks their knuckles or back everyone would panic so hard 💀

Anon you just read my mind 👁️👄👁️

It was another day of constantly sitting on a throne made out of gold

And your back hurted as if you haven't moved for 10 years

With everyone circling under you and constantly asking for life advice, complimenting you, and just giving you random stuff, you stood up brought your hands behind your head and bent backwards. Making a juicy

C̸̋͒́͌̋̀ŗ̸͍̟̪̭̺̃̑̚å̴̺͉͉̪͔͖͔̥̜͔c̶̽͐̌k̸̛͊̀̀̈̋

A moment the halls of your shrine were silent, and the next moment everyone was screaming at the top of their lungs

DID YOU JUST BREAK YOUR BONE?? ARE YOU ALIVE? ARE YOU GOOD?

Deciding to mess with them, you simply sat on your throne and smiled,

Then adding a simple

"Due to me breaking my back, I will leave teyvat since I will pass away soon, I don't want you people to see me vanish😔😔"

Totally not something I would do

People were on their knees crying, like actually shedding tears while some others were calling for doctors

And you were just trying so hard not to laugh

"PLEASE, PLEASE DONT LEAVE AGAIN"

"ah yes yes very sad, my time has come to an end"

"NO- PLEASE NO"

"ahhhh im going to perish soon ahhhhhh" sighing dramatically while saying that

Ok even baizhu who arrived there rushing, heard what you said, and he found out you were just playing with thousands of people, so yk...he decided to play along,

"mm, yes, how sad"

That's what happens when you do that in liyue.

Now do that in mondstadt and watch Barbra faint

"hey guys wanna see a cool thing I can do?" You said while walking towards the playable characters of mondstadt

And then bending your neck slightly to your right and making yet another ~juicy~ C̸̋͒́͌̋̀ŗ̸͍̟̪̭̺̃̑̚å̴̺͉͉̪͔͖͔̥̜͔c̶̽͐̌k̸̛͊̀̀̈̋

Barbra couldn't even consume what she just saw, resulting in her fainting

"oh god, oh god im sorry Barbra are you alive"

Please don't do that ever again, she might hit her head on the ground harder next time

But in Snezhnaya!! Nothing changes expect the fact that no one faints

Just..with some holy powers an argument starts

Guess who started it

"Oh god, time to call the best doctor of teyvat with my enormous WALLET"

─ pantalone

#sagau #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin sagau #sagau yandere #x reader #yandere cult genshin #yandere sagau #sagau fatui #sagau pantalone #sagau barbra #LMAO I DO THAT ALL THE TIME #👩🏻‍🦯👩🏻‍🦯👩🏻‍🦯#sagau baizhu

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heeliopheelia · 8 months

Note

CARLY WHAT ARE HYUNG LINE'S FAV POSITIONS IN BED?? 👁️👄👁️

hiii!! okay i actually had to do some thinking in here but there it is:

HEESEUNG

look i don't make rules but cowgirl with hee just sounds right yk? he just loves when you ride him!! it's perfect bcs he lets you control the pace at the beginning then finishes fucking you however he wants to when your legs finally give out from all the hassle 💯 and when you start clinging to him and press your tits to his chest - consider my man gone

prone bone okay i put this one in here bcs i can SO see him going absolutely feral at the feeling of how tight you are in this position, all sprawled out beneath him and completely left to his mercy 🫠 it's also a lot easier to hit your g-spot this way so you can't complain either ☝️

JAY

he's a giver alright, so even if technically it's not a position, he looooves face sitting a lot!! he just wants you to nearly suffocate him, so even if you try to not put all of your weight on him in concern for his health, he will literally grab your thighs and force you onto his face whether you want it or not... just take what he gives you, silly!! 😠 he's only fully satisfied when his face is completely burried in your pussy and he's DRENCHED in your juices 😽

look he's a simple man so - missionary. it gives him the best view at your face scrunching up or eyes rolling back as he fucks into you so well 🧎 it's also so intimate and jay is a very loving guy so he thrives off of miantaining eye contact with you, always looking for some subtle changes in your expression if you ever feel uncomfortable (mom i love him) 🫶

JAKE

i've already said it once but i'll say it again: jake is an avid doggy enthusiast 🗣️my man can't help it okay? he just loves your ass a little too much to pass the opportunity to get to look at it from a front row seat 😩 also likes to push down on your spine to make you arch more or pull your hair if you're into this kinda stuff 🥴

and another one i've mentioned before - reverse cowgirl!! also has a lot to do with the fact that it gets him the best access to your behind, sorry🤷but what really makes him love this position is how easily he can watch his dick slide in and out of you + he gets to grope your ass as much as he wants to so it's a win win for him really 👀

SUNGHOON

spooning which is often a result of cockwarming. whenever he has a tiring day at work, there's nothing more he loves than chilling with you on a couch and holding your body extremely close to his. it's so relaxing too!! he can go slower and deeper in this position than usually and more times than not it ends up with you milking him dry from all he has 🙆

full nelson - gosh i feel so hot all of sudden 💃 there goes me with my hard dom hoon agenda AND IT'S A PERFECT POSITION TO GO ALONG WITH IT 🗣️ like just imagine those big hands of his holding up your thighs as he bullies his cock into you from under you 🧍 he can also force the filthiest sounds out of you so easily like that!! WILL also choke you if you wanna, i-... i'll stop right here in consideration of my own mental health but you got the picture, right?

#i'm sorry if it came out a lil filthy but i just couldn't help myself 😽#–nonnies asks ♡#carly answers ✎#enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #heeseung hard hours #jay hard hours #jake hard hours #sunghoon hard hours

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kuni-is-daddy · 1 year

Text

Thinking about toji

Tw: k!dnapping, K!LLING

YANDERE? TOJI X GN JJK SORCERER READER SMUT.

MINORS DNI. MENTIONS BLOOD, CHOKING.

"Megumi.. baby?"toji said with a cracked voice "Yes papa?" "Get a nice job and make papa some money okAy.?"😃👁️👄👁️

Get this, your a jujutsu sorcerer. Your on his list and your so dam FINE. He kidnaps you instead of killing you.

Yeah sure toji loves him some money but how about he makes you his new househusband/wife?

Fucking you over the table while you make meals, his body is so FUCKING big compared to yours.

"cum all over my fukin' cock for me doll. F-fuck yeah just like that. Milk this cock"

You tried to escape a couple times or even attempted to kill him but that just ends up on you being his personal cock sleeve for the night. As he drills into you non stop no matter what you say until you pass out

"oh? Yah fucking sorry now huh? Want me to be gentle with you baby?" He would mock you, grab your throat and rub gently with his thumb on the bone with his big veiny hands. "Daddy's not gonna stop..mhmm shh shh stop crying. Stop fucking crying. Daddy's gonna fuck you well and your gonna stay with me mkay.." he'd slap your ass and tell you to stop moving your thighs so he could go balls deep inside of you. "Aww you can't breathe doll? Mmm but I bet you feel so FUCKING good on this cock right.. look at that bulge in ur belly baby. My cock fits you so well. Ah~ fuck me doll. Just like that.."

You even tried domain expansion but it was no use. As the sky turned pitched black when you turned around from running deep in the forest with him chasing after you and Shinto shrines began to form from it. He lunged at you, leaving your expansion incomplete as you went to dodge. Of course.. toji fucked you last night so your legs gave out and he knocked you out and picked you up bridal style. The faint smell of blood lingered from your nose.

You awoke to your hands and legs tied on a chair.

Toji was snickering under his breath. "I like you y/n. You keep me moving doll, this little fucking game of cat and mouse is getting tiring though. It's as if no matter how much i make you feel at home. And fuck you, you won't fucking stop. Annoying. Me-."

"mmm papa.. it's time for my m-medicine" poor little megumi had to come downstairs and see his "new momma/papa" all tied up and bleeding. He still gave a blank stare as if he was use to this. One day after prepping dinner toji came late and before that megumi mentioned how you we're the first one "Papa liked and hasn't got rid of" "yeah.. my real mommy. She died. But I heard papa saying earlier you we're really pwetty(pretty) and he is right! Your a great pawrent (parent) papa should be nice to you though.."

Flash forward. Toji sighed. What the hell has his life come too. He uses you like a cocksleve and cant even afford his son's medication.

Maybe he should change. Or maybe, you should change him.

The next day toji didn't touch you. He made breakfast for the 3 of you. It was awkward considering how you we're always tied up for "family meals" and your cursed objects we're locked away. But after what megumi said about his mom. You stopped trying to fight back. Or at least that's what toji thought...

Part 2?

#toji thirst #jujutsu kaisen #toji scenarios #toji smut #toji x you #toji imagine #toji headcanons #yandere toji #toji x reader #toji x y/n #toji fic #toji fushiguro #toji one shot #jujutsu toji #toji zenin #fushiguro toji x reader #fushiguro x you #fushiguro toji

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schlattsdoll · 5 months

Note

Speaking of filled, how about some breeding drabbles with schlatt? 👁️👄👁️ With some oral fixation for the tits? Lactation even? If you don't mind ofc!

minors dni

i just know this man would talk you through it ohmygod he’s amazing at it.

“gonna fuckin’ fill this pussy up till it’s leaking. want me to keep you full of my cum? fuck, can’t wait to see you all full of my kids. gonna make you a mommy baby.”

if you two fucked a normal amount before, you’re like rabbits now. he’s constantly ready to jump your bones and pump you full of his seed.

he makes good on his promise !! you two eventually having a lil baby girl (girl dad schlatt supremacy!!)

he notices your tits getting bigger and bigger and he can’t help himself. he already loved to suck on them, now he had a reason to. his mouth and tongue suckling on one nipple while the other was getting tended too by his large hand.

when you eventually start breastfeeding he wants to taste you so bad, he begs. and who are you to stop your big guy from getting what he wants?

he helps you pump any excess milk swelling up inside your breasts, of course using his hands but not being afraid to put the sensitive bud in his mouth and suck gently.

the taste of you is enough to make him practically cum in his pants, he can’t get enough.

“damn doll, might have to knock you up again just so i can keep tasting ya. oh you’d like that wouldn’t you? wanna be my little cumslut again, give our little girl a baby brother already?”

as always my requests are open!! please feel free to send them in 💚

#chuckle sandwich imagine #jschlatt smut #jschlatt fluff #jschlatt imagine #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt headcanons #jschlatt hcs #mcyt x reader

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2kmps · 8 months

Text

vash pets your head to send you to sleep, but asks you something important before he does.

notes; 1.1k, very tender vash, tristamp coded, not proofread. wrote this in my car @ 2am, freaking out every two seconds bc was that a person or just my eyes? 👁️👁️

layers of dust reaching across entire sprawls of bedsheet was a normal thing you came across in every inn you visited. no man's land had a way of making everything inhospitable, from the unforgiving terrain of valleys of sand, stone and bleached bones, down to the crevices between slabs of wood underfoot filled with debris and the pillows under your head exacerbating dry fits of coughing while beige granules clung to your throat.

vash was far more accustomed to those conditions than you were, having lived that way for over a century—an earnest confession you still weren't sure you believed. like everyone else on this godforsaken landscape, you had learned to acclimate during your harrowing travels with him, forced to take the heat deep in your skin to your marrow, the dirt and sand into the brittle branches in your lungs.

"want me to shake out the sheets for you?" vash was always courteous, did his best to lessen the blow of suffering you endured while with him. from the beginning, he had never been comfortable with you there, tried running off more times than you could count, but you were smart and determined so he never succeeded.

he didn't wait for you to respond, finding that you were arranging your bags near the door in case of the need of a quick escape. maybe it was guilt or pity, but he slipped his fingers beneath the thin sheets and whipped them out until all the dust knocked off of them. "this place isn't as bad as the last one. you'll sleep pretty good tonight, I think. can you grab my sleeping bag?"

"there's plenty of room on the bed, vash." you didn't make a motion for his bags. in your hands now was a set of linen nightclothes. "give your back a rest. sleep on the mattress for once."

his look was almost incredulous, almost as though you had said something outrageous. "I won't make you sleep on the floor. I don't mind, really!"

"I never said I was sleeping on the floor." you said, inflectionless, eyes half-lidded from the weight of fatigue and soreness behind them. "we're gonna be out on the desert for hours tomorrow. I can't have you die out there because you wanted to sleep on wood."

certain arguments vash didn't try to win, this was one of them, namely because he wasn't actually interested in the floor. so, some thirty minutes later he laid there on the stiff, musty mattress with you, taking in all the smells of age and misuse in his dry nostrils while trying not to open his mouth too wide to suck in any sand.

"not the most comfortable." he mumbled, shifting onto his back after lying on his side for a few minutes. "you sure you want me up here with—"

"it's fine, vash." again, without betraying yourself with a change in tone, you reassured him. you said it to him with your eyes closed, facing him, your back flush to the wall to give his larger body more space. "don't worry so much. just try to sleep for once."

it didn't come easy to him, this you knew. inevitably, he'd be up and around the inn or just outside of it at some point. sleep was a mortal enemy and an elusive love affair to him, a challenging dichotomy that left him tired and worn most of the time. he felt all of it ache in his joint, drag his eyelids down, sit on his shoulders as though his sins weren't enough of a burden.

you saw it and you pitied him, though you didn't have the brashness to say so.

just then, you flinched hard enough to make the bed jerk when his hand touched your head. he apologized quietly, not removing himself from you and let the warmth of his appendages seep through your hair into your scalp, gave you time to familiarize with how it had so much weight to it.

"do you ever regret your decision?" he started stroking your head in short, smooth motions, flattening your hair against your crown. "regret traveling with me, I mean."

you weren't sure why he was asking this during bedtime, but coaxed you to crack your eyes at him, proving you were still awake. his made of brilliant azure we're looking back at you, somehow piercing through the inky night straight into you. they had an eerie, otherworldly glow to them, almost.

"I dunno." you are honest, unsure of the kind of answer he was looking for. did he want comfort, or was he going to try to bail on you again? it had been a while since he last tried. "I dunno. I don't mind it most of the time. you're a good guy, vash, you don't deserve to be all alone in this world."

his hand stopped, but his fingers splayed out a little more. the corners of his eyes started to narrow, crinkles forming in the corners. you couldn't handle how softly, so sweetly he was looking at you now.

"you gave up everything, though." he said, smoothing his hand along that same path on your head again. "you shouldn't have given up your entire life—your career just to…"

he didn't want to finish. your eyes were open fully, the whites of them glistening at him in the dim moonlight.

"you shouldn't have given it all up to be with me." it sounded so unnatural to him, like it was some unfathomable, convoluted thing he had had no business putting a voice to. "nothing—no one is worth that. I'm not worth that."

in these moments, you wished he would let you touch him. all you wanted to do was feel the warmth of your bodies meld together, wrap your arms around him so he couldn't leave you alone in that dusty, dark room, and so he knew he wasn't alone.

"don't talk like that," was all you could bring yourself to say, even though you didn't think it was amiss.

the shadows around his mouth deepened, his smile just a little higher than it usually was. his thumb moved towards your temple, callused pad stroking the skin there, tempting you to lean into his touch even more.

parts of you wanted him to kiss you, because you caught his eyes wavering at times, unsticking from your gaze to sweep lower beneath his thick lashes. you knew he was looking at your lips, and you thought that maybe you had made the mistake of looking first.

he never acted on that as much as you wished he would, but he did keep his hand on you until the gentle motions on your hair finally lulled you into slumber.

pls comment or reblog if you enjoyed! 🫰🏻

#vash the stampede x y/n #vash x y/n #vash x you #vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #vash the stampede #trigun imagines #trigun x reader #trigun x you #tristamp #trigun stampede #trimax #trigun maximum #2k writes

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the-moon-files · 13 days

Note

I was actually thinking about this a lot but like as an add on to your humans are hylian space orcs thing. I am in ✨need✨ of reader trying potions. Like;

"This potion will restore your stamina and boost your strength"

"Buddy that's just coffee"

"Qué?"

Even worse if when the reader tries it it's just like the most not strong coffee they've ever drank. Makes the guys wonder wtf makes humans need so much energy through out the day.

this is such a cute idea, i love how diet diffs/energy diffs in humans are space orcs aus, so genius to apply to hylians

the stamnia boost potion tastes just like instant coffee with powdered creamer (the kind at like car dealerships/shitty offices where its not even a little liquid creamer)

and u spit that shit out like wtf is this bs

and Four, poor guy who gave you some after talking a break from walking, is like "oh my goddess r u allergic?? can still breath???"

meanwhile ur like. "yeah this just tastes like shit-"

four: "oh well yeah, all potions do really-"

you: "-ty coffee. this is nowhere near strong enough to get me back on my feet ffs"

four: " 👁️👄👁️"

you: "u got anything stronger? :/ "

four: " w h a t ? "

cue u researching how to make stamnia potions, across the hyrules, and making them 10x stronger so theyre like an actual coffee shop kind of coffee, and the Links are literally lowkey scared

Time forbids you (and the rest of the guys) from letting anyone else try ur "improved" elixir (s)

bc yes, u didnt stop at stamnia

u moved on to healing potions, (u can now regrow limbs and heal broken bones, the hylians can only take like a 1/16th of a sip like once a week, whereas u chug the whole thing, and can do so multiple times a day if needed)

u also moved onto cooking, bc rlly how different is cooking from alchemy?

and goron spice tasted like goddamn dorito chips, so u used essence of literal lava to help make it more spicy,

ur not allowed to introduce this new spice to the gorons, Wild forbid, bc he was adventurous enough (and snuck behind Time and ur backs) to try some spice

(he literally touched the tip of his pinky finger to it, wiped it off, except for 1 like flake of spice too)

and it lowkey nearly killed him 💀

like had to use that 1/16th of ur extra strong healing potion and everything

u felt so bad, but he did do this to himself,

and Wild knew the gorons dont back down from a challenge, esp since it was originally their recipe, so he (and you) didnt wanna kill them on accident

the sleeping potion u found is just like taking a single melatonin gummy, so u ofc make that thing knock even you out after 2 sips,

needless to say, no one is trying that one, not only bc it knocked Rulie unconcious for 12 hours straight (u got him to try it after he exhausted all his magic healing, and so no nightmares)

but bc it knocked u out cold for 9. that was the scarier part to them lmao, was how affected is their human by this?

i like to think thats how they judge unknown foods and liquids too,

like "do you think this tastes unseasoned? ok should be perfect for me then" - every Link

"oh this didnt make u feel sleepy at all/barely tired? great, id love to knock out cold w/no nightmares tonight" - Sky, probably

"this tastes like that thing you call, instant cough? ko-fee? Cool, give me some i need to run up this mountain" - Wild, for the 3rd time this month probably

"this barely healed ur papercut? sweet, give me some my wrists are killing me" - poor Legend, he uses ur extra strength healing potion as a way to treat his arthritis regularly once a month, but the more chill potions for any leftover aches and pains, esp after long fights being hard on his arms

Chain is simultaneously still lowkey terrified u need that much extra oomf, esp when u run out of stronger stuff and have to down like 5 health potions to heal a cut that needed stitches,

and also worried u need that much and also Wild/Wars/Rulie tend to work overtime to make sure they have extra potions for you

and theyre also kind of impressed, bc hey, youre unlikely to get magically poisoned/potion poisoned like them

☆

sorry i couldnt think of as much as i hoped, i think its bc i rlly just need to play/watch more loz games besides botw/totk

i like know the vague plot of ss/oot/mm/tp/ww/hw and og loz games, but havent gotten into details/lets play or anything yet

i hope this was at least a half decent idea to think about/expand on urs, have a great rest of ur week, and thanks so much for the ask!! <33

Peace out,

🌙

#i tried to add a cut so this wouldnt be constantly expanded but i just had to trust tumblr for this one bc it kept unbulleting my stuff #i tried guys #sorry #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #male reader #linked universe reader #lu x male reader #link x reader #loz link x reader #linked universe male reader #moon rambles #literally just that didnt organize this at all rlly

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siaoinn · 26 days

Text

Chapter 114 spoilers

"Sigma gets possessed" "Nikolai gets possessed" hell, "CHUUYA gets possessed"

What if Nikolai lied about everything and he's helping Fyodor attain a new vessel with his super stanky arm, yeah? And imo, it's such a strange writing decision if Fyodor were to possess (and essentially kill) Nikolai when we barely know anything about that clown It's also too predictable, as if we're being led to hypothesize this that way.

I've discussed it with some friends and we've concluded that fossil aged Christian's ability activates near or a little after death when his next vessel is splattered with his blood; and once Fyodor's consciousness seeps away from his current body it's transmitted to the next one. (As you can see, it's unlikely Sigma to be the next victim with this logic.) The body then morphs into his image while the previous one reverts back to whatever form it once had.

As to why I think Nikolai is lying and helping Fyodor instead— he skedaddled for a few chapters already and it's pretty sus. We can say he's grieving off screen, and his unhinged nature thought it was alright to take Fyodor's arm with him, but what if all of that is a hoax for Dazai and Chuuya to believe Nikolai wouldn't do harm anymore? Other than that, Fyodor's arm wasn't exactly bleeding from the amputated part— and why on earth is the sleeve still intact. It's as if it's,,, covering a portal underneath because Fyodor's blood is precious, sacred, yet malicious,,, and whoever comes into contact with it will be possessed by the rat king,,, maybe. 👁️

(I'm also just going to insert this one wiki line I just found, bc ik Nikolai's actions would contradict his search for freedom if he were to help black haired mammoth)

If the previous vessel no longer retains Fyodor's image then it's likely dinosaur bones has already found his new vessel.

#bsd theories #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd chuuya nakahara #bsd dazai osamu #bsd sigma #bsd nikolai gogol #bsd fyodor dostoevsky #bsd ch 114 #bsd #siaoinnrambles

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thswrtchdthng · 3 months

Note

YOU. give me your jonah magnus headcanons

oh FUCK yes.

let me preface this by saying I could talk about this piece of shit for HOURS. also these range from completely random trivia things to silly to oddly specific. also I may have projected a bit too much but oh well, that's what fictional babygirls are for

- I'm a trans Jonah truther. but also he'd been going exclusively by he/him pretty much his whole life until someone in the middle of an argument called him "it" and he had one of those "wait am I even a person" moments and since then he does not know wtf he is. is he a man? is he a thing? is he a creature? is he a concept? none of the above? all of the avobe? who knows. not even the Eye knows what's going on with that.

- he grew up on the outskirts of Edinburgh, and he has very mixed feelings about it. like on one hand he did not like it and was overjoyed to leave, but on the other that is his home and you will not disrespect it. to this day if anyone talks shit about Edinburgh or Scotland in general he has to stop himself from acting bothered about it.

- I'm sorry but I can smell his daddy/mommy issues from MILES away (he has both).

- he used to be super self-conscious. the "shit they're all staring at me but I need to pretend to be confident and respectable so fuck it" sort of way.

- he was especially insecure about his freckles. he was convinced they made him look like a little kid (which is not true, freckles are gorgeous and fuck anyone who thinks otherwise).

- he's always had a huge staring problem. and he originally had really big eyes so if anyone caught his interest they'd just be doing their thing and then turn around and catch him like 👁️_👁️.

- also he was always that kid that asked too many questions, especially regarding god (another thing I can smell from miles away is the religious trauma).

- he was born on november 13th 1787 (a tuesday the 13th, which in some cultures is believed to be a bad luck day, like friday the 13th) and officially founded the Institute on his 31st birthday (november 13th 1818, a friday the 13th).

- he has a collection of lover's eyes gifted by his many boyfriends acquaintances. he's got them all in a little box at his place and he remembers the exact moment each was gifted to him.

- I'm not going to get into how I imagine the time between when Barnabas got chucked into the Lonely and when he went to get his bones (it would take far too long) but this bitch was Not Having A Good Time. those broken glasses and torn pages Barny mentioned in his last letter? all him baby.

- also after Barnabas died he had a period of a couple weeks where he did not speak. not one word. he looked completely normal otherwise but people did notice. after that he just acted like nothing had happened and pretended to be clueless when people asked him about it.

- speaking of Barnabas's bones, he got a quill made of the bones in the ring finger of his left hand. he never uses it (no occasion is special enough) but he takes it with him any time he leaves the Institute for longer than a day (he couldn't take it with him to jail though :( ).

- speaking of leaving the Institute, he travels surprisingly rarely. it's not that he doesn't like traveling or that he can't afford it, he simply doesn't do it.

- Jonathan Fanshawe's last letter hurt him far more than he expected, and so did Albrecht's death. he thought he wouldn't feel much after Barny's death but that shit hit him.

- his eyesight gets worse every time he gets a new body. as Elias his glasses are so thick it's almost comical.

- he loves fluffy blankets with a PASSION.

-but he despises fluffy sweaters. he cannot wear them.

- he also loves pillows, cushions etc. he has at least 10 in his bed.

- you can't tell me his egotistical ass doesn't spend AT LEAST 2 hours getting ready every day (and 50% of that time he spends just staring at himself, checking that every minute detail is absolutely perfect).

- he's a raging hypochondriac. this man (gender neutral) will sneeze once and he's already thinking about his next body.

- his favorite cake flavour is red velvet. also black forest cake reminds him of Albrecht.

- as much as I like the joke of Jonah being the Lukases communal bootycall, he actually despises most of that family.

- aside from his long list of "acquaintances", he did have a super short fling with Simon Fairchild. Simon still jokes about it to this day and Jonah hates him for it.

- when he's angry or under a lot of stress he'll just stop blinking. like he usually doesn't blink as often as The Average Human, but if he's mad he'll just stop entirely. this started happening after the failed Watcher's Crown, but he didn't notice it until one time Gertrude pointed it out (that was a fun conversation, I might write something about this eventually).

- sometimes he'll forget or just not feel like doing normal bodily functions like eating or sleeping, and when he remembers that he has to in order to, you know, function, he gets so mad about it (why are human bodies so high maintenance and so unreliable at the same time istg).

- he used to be a sacredy cat. not anymore because he can See when people are close to him, but if you were to come up behind him to scare him back in the day he would leap.

- he has an odd fondness for amaranth flowers. I doubt he's a plant person but he likes those a lot (and tbh now that I think about it the mental image of plant mom Jonah makes me very soft. he'd tell the plants his Evil Plans and shit).

this is all I could think of off the top of my head but I'll probably add more as time goes by. I loved finally listing my headcanons for this little fucker so thanks for giving me the chance lol

#tma #the magnus archives #jonah magnus #you don't understand he is my WIFE

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millenialfanfictionaddiction · 1 year

Text

Karasuno, Shiratorizawa, Inarizaki and Nekoma:

Manager has an Art Exibit

Karasuno x GN! Manager; Shiratorizawa x GN!Manager; Inarizaki x GN! Manager; Nekoma x GN! Manager

Warnings: PURE FLUFF, light swearing

A/N: This is an Anon request

Karasuno

The most feral of the 4 teams

I think we all know this but just to reiterate

Literally, I don’t care if they know absolutely nothing about art

The fact is they all suddenly become FASCINATED by it just because their manager is into it

Asahi has the most appreciate, followed by Kiyoko and Yachi

When they first find out you are into Art, they demand to see what you do daily

Idk if you only added one line to a drawing or maybe planned a new piece of pottery

These boys will be so into it!

They will ask the same question daily which is “can you teach me YN?”

When you tell them you have an exhibit coming up, they don’t even ask if they are invited

They just assume 😌

If it’s at a fancy place, they were their school uniforms because it’s the nicest thing they own 🤣

Daichi reminds them to keep the volume to a minimum

Hinata tells Kageyama not to look at anything breakable because his face is ugly/scary enough to break it on site

The “iTs My FaCe AsShOlE” speech follows

Tsukki is actually semi interested and wanders around looking at the exhibits

Noya and Tanaka glare at everyone until they say how amazing your pieces are 🙄

Ennoshita tells you that he will forcefully remove them if needed

Suga actually asks detailed questions about your work and super interested

Hinata is forced to stay next to Yamaguchi so he doesn’t accidentally break anything

All in all, solid 20/10 support and 6/10 safety around breakable pieces 🥰

Shiratorizawa

The most regal of the teams

Literally they showed up, literally in suits YN

SUITS 🫡

Someone quick, take a picture for your memory wall 📱

Honestly they don’t talk about your art much because volleyball practice is for volleyball

But after practice, Semi, Reon and Tendou show the most interest

Semi is super into your style and is always looking at your sketches/ finished products

Reon and Tendou are just super supportive, giving feedback and wanting to learn more

Ushijima doesn’t say anything BUT he is totally listening and storing away everything you say

Goshiki, well Goshiki tries 😅

He wants to know more but the boy doesn’t have a creative bone in his body

He is the definition of a “super volleyball idiot”

Shirabu and Kawanishi don’t really understand art but they still encourage you none the less

At your exhibit, they all walk the floor together

Like a flock of birds 😂

One of them moves and they others follow

They only mingle with you and keep a close eye on your work

Literally they don’t want anyone messing with all the hard work you’ve put in

You’ll talk with them about what you’ve done and that’s when Ushijima surprises you

“I see you used the light purple over the dark purple Yn, that was an excellent move.”

The team 👉🏻👁️👄👁️

Tendou 👉🏻🖐🏻👁️⭕️👁️🖐🏻

You 👉🏻🥹

These boys adore you so much YN, solid 10/10!

Inarizaki

Kita puts it on the board in the teams locker room

“YN’s art exhibit at 7pm TUESDAY NIGHT! Show up or I’ll make sure you get benched!” -Kita ❤️

That message was meant for one person and one person only

And I think we all know who 👀

*cough* ATSUMU *cough*

It’s not that Atsumu doesn’t support you, it’s just that his brain really only functions on volleyball

Kita and Aran will use every change they get to hype up your art work

Omimi suggests they use it in volleyball somehow

Even if it’s pottery or creative writing, they find a way

Akagi is super interested in what you do, always asking questions

Suna sits by you while you work, you have an unspoken relationship of just silent co-existence

He’s super peaceful 😌

Ginjima is a hype man, literally show him your new work and he will scream your praises

Osamu and you both encourage each other in your chosen talents

You taste his creations and give feedback and he critics your art

He’s an honest boy and we support it!

Riseki, our sweet baby, just loves supporting you because it makes you smile

At the exhibit, they honestly act semi normal

Atsumu and Osamu promised not to fight

Suna and Ginjima stood in between Samu and Sumu so they DIDNT fight

Kita, Aran, Omimi and Akagi are all like ridiculously interested in art

Like they talk to you about all the exhibits and point out their favs

Riseki kind of stands there, awkward but he tries

Sumu compares art to volleyball and how he’s basically the artist of the team

Samu tells Sumu that volleyball is a sport, not an art which leads to fighting

Which then leads to Suna and Gibjima having to take the children home early

Solid 10/10 moral support but they might cause you a lot of stress 😅

Nekoma

I’m calling it, best team for Art Exibit support goes to Nekoma 🏆

Literally they are the most calm of all of the teams here and definitely beyond supportive

Literally YN, they worship the ground you walk on

So when they find out you are into Art, oh lord

They bug you non-stop to show them what you’re doing

Kuroo doesn’t even need to remind them you have an exibit, they just show up

Kai and Yaku are your support system, giving feedback and helping you carry things and organize everything

Yamamoto is security, hype man and literally #1 Yn simp

Kenma thinks your art is awesome and you’re one of the only people he talks to regularly

Lev, Shibayama, and Inuoka literally adore you so much and want to know everything about your art

Fukunaga, a fellow artist but with words, literally always knows just the thing to say to cheer you up

And Kuroo talks about how you are the carbohydrates that fuel the team 😂

Because he would and we all know it

At your exhibit, they are the first to show up and the last to leave

Kenma might sneak off and play a game or two

But the rest are super interested

Kai takes photos, if allowed, and posts them in the teams group chat

Yaku will discuss every single exibit with you

Kuroo stands around like a proud dad 😂

Lev critics things because he’s an honest boy even thought he knows nothing about art

Inuoka and Shibayama literally just gawk at you because you are so cute when you are happy

Yamamoto is alot like Tanaka and Noya but a tiny bit tamer

Fukunaga takes notes on what he wants to talk to you about later when he finally gets to discuss your art with you

100/10 support

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 year

Note

Hi it would be awesome if u did the angs print list #11 with Cassian x reader

Feeling ANGSTY 👁️👄👁️

Warnings: angst, some injury detail.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The place was utter chaos. The air tinged with the stench of blood, of rain, of mud. Screams of pain reaching out to you from the healers tents, cries of grief over those who didn’t survive. People zipped around you, rushing back and forth with buckets of water and blankets and medical supplies.

There was always a numbness that set in after battle. An emptiness. Though you may not join your friends and family on the battlefield, being a healer kept you up close and personal with injuries and casualties. There was no escaping the gruesome realities of war — not when you spent hour after hour depleting your magic on stitching skin back together and setting broken bones, healing fatal blows by the very skin of your teeth.

You were exhausted by the time you left your tent, another healer having taken over and insisting that you rest. You immediately began to drag your heavy feet through the muddy track that wended through the lines and lines of tents, intending to return to the one you shared with your mate, Cassian. You were desperate for a bath, to submerge yourself in too-hot water that would make you feel something and wash the grot and grime and blood from your skin.

“Y/N.” A grave voice came from behind you, a firm hand landing on your shoulder and stopping you in your tracks.

You turned to find Azriel, and a pinch of relief spread through you at the sight of him. You’d received word that all of your friends had come back from the battlefield, but you could never quite settle until you’d seen them all. Apart from some nicks and slices that were already healing, Azriel seemed otherwise unharmed.

But the set of his jaw was…wrong. Tense. The fierce look in his eyes telling you that something was amiss.

Cassian. Your mate’s name immediately bleated in your head.

“What is it?” You breathed, your stomach churning. Panicked thoughts began to claw at you. “What happened?”

“It’s Cassian.” A muscle in Az’s jaw ticked. “He got badly injured.”

You were going to be sick. Or collapse. Black out. Something. He couldn’t be dead — you knew he couldn’t be dead, because you would feel it. Would just know. But why hadn’t you sensed him being injured?

“Breathe, Y/N.” Azriel gently clasped your arm. The composure you applied to healing people was completely lost when it came to your mate. “He’s okay. Madja healed him, he’s going to be fine. He’s asleep right now, but…he’ll be waking soon. I’m sure you’ll want to be there.”

You were trying so hard to fight back tears. You’d barely had a year with your mate. The thought of losing him—

“Take me to him, Az.” You rasped. “Please.”

Azriel took your hand, easily manoeuvring you around the chaos that continued around you, that you no longer noticed. It felt like eons passed before you were being led to the main war tent where the Inner Circle discussed their information and strategy. Rhys was just stepping out of the entrance as you skidded to a stop.

“There you are.” The High Lord breathed. “I’m sorry, Y/N — I gave him a direct order to wait and he ignored it. His damn insides were hanging out. I’m so angry with him. If not for Madja already being here—”

“Can I just see him?” You bit back a sob. “Please?”

He dipped his chin, holding the tent flap aside for you. As you stepped in, the strong, clinical smell of tonics and salves burned your nose.

Your eyes immediately found your mate. Sprawled out on a settee, he was undressed, aside from a pair of undershorts that were stained with his blood. A huge white bandage was wrapped around his torso, and even in sleep, his face seemed to twitch in pain with every breath.

He looked…a mess. Awful. And it sliced you open. Made you feel like your heart was being tightly squeezed.

His sweat-slick hair was sticking to his mud-speckled face. You took a step towards him, stopping and angling yourself back towards Rhys and Az.

“Can I have some time with him?” You wiped you eyes quickly. “Please?”

Rhys nodded, and the two of them shot you a concerned glance before turning on their feet and trudging away. Where the others were, you didn’t know. But right now…right now, Cassian was your focus.

You perched on the coffee table in front of him and waited for him to wake.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･

It wasn’t long after that you heard a soft groan.

Your eyes, that had been staring into space, snapped down to Cassian. And it was only then that you became aware of the tears that had been silently falling down your cheeks.

You wiped them away, and watched as your mate’s eyes slowly opened. As he winced, his face contorting in pain, and tried to push himself up.

“Careful.” You murmured, reaching out to steady him. Your hands stayed on him as he moved himself into a sitting position, and then you were stepping back once more.

Cassian stared up at you. And smiled.

Albeit a grim smile — one marred by discomfort and looking wrong beneath the smattering of blood and dirt. But he smiled.

And maybe it shouldn’t have done, but…it boiled your blood.

“There’s my little love.” He croaked, reaching a hand towards you. “Such a sight for sore eyes.”

You immediately stepped out of reach, folding your arms over your chest. “You’re injured, Cassian.”

He glanced down at the bandage with infuriating indifference. “Injured, not infectious.” He reached for you again, wincing as he did so. “Come sit with me.”

So many emotions were rooting you to the spot, stopping you from going to him. Sheer panic and fear and worry and hurt and anger. Pure, blinding anger.

All you could do was stare at him.

He stared back, his features slowly creasing into a frown. He looked you up and down — your apron spattered with blood and grime. Your face and hands not much better. The wisps of hair that had long ripped from your braid.

“…you’re not injured, are you?” He started, trying to ease himself up. “Let me see.”

“No, I’m not injured.” You snapped. “I’m fucking furious, Cassian.”

“What—”

“Why did you go against Rhys’s order? Why would you do that?”

Your mate blinked at you, and it seemed only then that he became truly aware of your fury. Your hurt. He eased himself up from the settee, using the arm to steady himself. “Y/N—”

“Why, Cassian?”

“…the decision I made was the more logical one—”

“Oh, yeah — so logical to get your fucking intestines ripped out of you. Great job, my mate.”

He’d never seen you this angry. Even though you’d chastised him a couple of times before about certain reckless decisions, it had never been like this. Tears were stinging your eyes again.

Cassian caught it immediately, his features softening. “Sweetheart…”

“Don’t do that.” Your voice cracked. “Don’t act like this is nothing.”

“I’m not. I’m not. But you’re new to all of this. And injuries are a part of it…”

You scoffed. Yes, you were far younger than him. He had four hundred years on you and had seen battle multiple times. Clearly his wealth of experience didn’t stop him acting like a reckless fool.

“Funny, because you’re the only one of us who had his insides ripped out, Cassian, and you’re also the only one who went against Rhys’s orders!”

“I made the right choice!” His voice rose. “And I’d damn well make it again!”

“I know you would! And that scares me, Cass, because what about me?”

A sob choked your voice on the last word, your hurt and panic completely overtaking your anger. You couldn’t stand it, couldn’t take the thought of anything happening to him—

You buried into your hands, your cries breaking out of you uncontrollably. And you knew Cassian was stunned into silence. That he’d gone preternaturally still.

“…Y/N…” He sighed softly. “Hey. Look at me. I’m fine.”

He limped over to you, his hands grasping your arms. But his touch didn’t stop the heaving sobs.

“You may have got off okay this time,” your whole body shook, “but what about the next time? Or the time after that?”

“I…” He frowned. “You just have to trust me. I’ll be fine.”

“This isn’t about trust!” You wrenched away from him. “I’m sick and tired of worrying about you and all the risks you take. You tell me you’ll be fine but what about me? Because if I lose you, I won’t be fine. Do you even realise that?”

“Y/N, you’re not going to lose me—”

“I’m pregnant, Cassian.”

Cassian’s mouth immediately snap shut, his eyes widening. And then his gaze was dipping down to your stomach, back up to your face.

“We can’t lose you.” You snivelled, placing a hand on your abdomen. “So please…all I ask is that you think of us before making risky decisions.”

“I…” He was still blinking. “You’re…”

“Pregnant.” You whispered. “Yeah.”

Only a beat passed before he was striding over to you — groaning as he did so — and pulling you into his chest. His arms wrapped around you, and you knew it was causing him pain, but he held you so tightly. Rocked you. Kissed the top of your head.

“I’m sorry.” His voice broke. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think.”

Slowly, you stroked your hand up his back. You could feel your sobs silently shaking your body, soaking his bare chest.

“I’ll never leave you.” Cass pulled back just slightly — just enough to place a hand over yours on your stomach. “Either of you.”

You stared up at him with glistening eyes, tears spilling down your cheeks. “Do you swear?”

“I swear.”

And then he was pulling you into his chest again, and the two of your were crying into each other’s skin, just your weak noises filling the tent, mixed up in Cassian’s repeated apologies. You didn’t know how long you stood like that for, but it was long enough for your anger to dissipate. For you to feel the pure relief and love that hit you with Cassian back in your arms.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered again, his cheek pressed to the top of your head. “Forgive me.”

And you — you lifted your head. Looked up at him. A soft, watery smile played on your lips, and you pushed yourself up to press them against his, to speak a single word onto them.

“Forgiven.”

#ask #request #prompt list #acotar #acotar fandom #a court of thorns and roses #cassian x reader #cassian #angst

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ssalballoon · 3 months

Note

Wait but how do you draw faces???? ): Do you have more suggestions for that sort of thing?

oh faces! i'm going to assume you're drawing in a semi(?) realistic/ anime-ish style? that's kinda the style i'm familiar with, if you're going for a super 2D graphical style then a lot of my advice won't really apply! i'll put it under the cut

1) I think the most important thing for faces is to always keep in mind the 3D form and planes of the face. Looking at a lot of simplified art (like anime) is a little detrimental for this because it's easy to think the features of the face are just kinda pasted on

Here's a tool from William Nguyen that lets you play around with any angle and light source you desire for heads! It really emphasizes the 3D form and especially the planes of the face. It's helped me out a ton!

Sinix has a video on drawing faces from any angle from imagination (no reference), again focusing on the 3D nature of faces. For individual features of the face (eyes, nose, mouth, etc) he has a playlist of anatomy tutorials!

- I advise against turning to memory and iconography for features of the face (like 👁️ and 👄) Icons like these are useful when the 2D shape is more important for communicating information quickly like in standardized hazard signs. But for more realistic drawing, you want to rely on the 3D form so these simplistic drawings can be jarring in certain styles when in the context of a full human face. This Proko video mentions that you should treat the features of the face like the eye as just another abstract form and not think of it specifically as an "eye" (Proko's channel is also a good general art resource)

2) basic proportions

This is about where specific features of the face are located. I never really studied this on its own, but I think drawing a lot just got me familiar with it. I'm hesitant to link a specific resource here because I didn't really use any myself;; while this isn't as exhaustive as I'd like, I like how Marc Brunet explains it! (Although I'm not a big fan of how he delineates male/female faces and facial features so black and white...? like don't feel obligated to stick to that specific face shape for female characters TTOTT i think it can get pretty redundant compared to the diversity of the male faces he draws)

- Facial proportions change with age! So you should be mindful of it depending on how old the character that you're drawing is

3) expressions

Drawing faces means you're gonna have to draw expressions, even if that expression is a neutral face. I'm admittedly not the best at this, but try pushing the expressions to their extremes to make them more interesting (of course depends on context). 2D disney expressions/concept art accomplish this perfectly and are a good reference to study from (I personally enjoy Shiyoon Kim's concept art!)

- Note how when you cry, the entire face (+body) moves to create that expression. It's not just a tear falling down the cheek, it's the eyebrows furrowing, the muscles around the eyes scrunching in(?), mucus running down the nose, mouth and lips tightening, eyes and nose becoming red, shoulders hunching up, etc.

- as a small aside I want to emphasize the importance of eyebrows because I avoided drawing them/ moving them around more when I started learning to draw, don't do that!! they're crucial for drawing expressions!

4) diversity

Try depicting facial diversity to make a character unique and more interesting!

- semirealism helped me turn away from the hyperstylization of certain anime styles where a lot of these unique features are smoothed away. Things like wrinkles around the brows/eyes/mouth, eye/nose/mouth shape and size, facial bone structure, facial hair, etc really help to individualize a character/ capture their likeness

- also people of different races have different facial features that you should be mindful of. I don't feel knowledgeable enough to give specific advice on this, but if you're unfamiliar with something please use references!!

This can be challenging especially in stylized drawing, since you tend to have to pick and choose what you choose to depict. For example, I find that trying to draw out all the wrinkles of a character, while it may be accurate, it just doesn't fit my style. I therefore have to balance the amount of details to include to achieve a character's likeness. However, stylization also allows you to emphasize those unique features which makes a character more memorable to me!

as another example this is a personal trick i use but i've found drawing the bottom lip helps make a more masculine face, and drawing the top lip as well for a more feminine face...??? idk why this works for me (and it may not work for you!) but yeah try playing around with what details you include/exclude and see what you end up liking!

okie I think that's all I have for faces..? hopefully i'm not missing anything... again I prefer to let actual teachers give specific advice on how to draw, I feel more comfortable talking about general ideas and referring you to better sources that you can learn from first-hand!

also I think in my efforts to explain the key aspects of drawing faces I've kind of made it seem like I follow strict delineated steps... no I truly just wing it every time I draw TTOTT I just think these points are important to keep in mind so that when you amass more knowledge about them you can internalize it to become a habit!

enough yapping from me thank you for your ask! i hope this can be of help to you 🫡💞

#my asks #art resources #edit just realized this may have been more about how i draw faces like step by step and not so generalized TTOTT #i'm sorry if i didn't really answer your question correctly TTOTT;;;

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rosewaterandivy · 8 months

Text

9. part-time soulmate, full-time problem

Summary: Rumor has it, that hometown hero-turned-teacher Steve Harrington is hot for teacher. The English teacher next door to him at Hawkins High, who also happens to be his childhood friend, that is.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x chaotic!dumbass reader

Warnings: No use of y/n - reader goes by the nickname Trouble instead, cursing, sexual situations - SMUT & idolatry (my usual bullshit), we think we’re ~prank Sinatra~ to disastrous effect i.e. a fake elopement, Modern!Teacher AU, English teacher reader, History teacher Steve, slow burn, friends to lovers, romance.

A/N: hey girl, u up? lemme come thru 💦💦💦 🥵🥵🥵 *slaps roof of fic* You can fit so much reverence and smut in this bad boy. Here’s 5.1K of pure filth and debauchery, holy water can’t help me now! Poetry excerpt from Sue Zhao. 18+ mature content (minors dni). Reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated, please let me know what you thought; enjoy & thanks for reading! 💜

series masterlist | playlist - newly updated!

Steve's playlist for Trouble: trouble will find me

previous || next

Now, Spring Break, Joshua Tree, CA ➡️ Las Vegas, NV

“You did what?”

And it’s not a question, not by a long shot.

If Nancy Wheeler wasn’t some 1,800 miles from you, you’d be seeing the patented snarl right now. The one that says ‘you’ll be dead by my hand and my hand alone.’

There’s a very real possibility that you’ve overplayed your hand this time. What started as a prank, a harmless lark, had devolved into one screeching phone call from Steve’s mother for him and a blistering series rapid-fire of texts for you, followed by a phone call during which Nancy was going to rip you a new asshole.

She didn’t appreciate your texts as you’d hoped.

Trouble 👁️👄👁️: so BDE is not *just* an energy with Steve. got it, good to know.

Natty light 💯: She lives! We haven’t heard from you in days. Wtf did you idiots do?

Trouble 👁️👄👁️: nothing to be concerned about! on an unrelated note, before you check insta remember that i am your BESTIE and you would miss me terribly(!!!) if i died, even if it was at your own hand

Natty light 💯: … I’m going to kill you, and resurrect your dessicated corpse so I can strangle you … slowly and painfully

Trouble 👁️👄👁️: pls mother, no, i’m scared

But hey, it’s not like you woke up and decided to potentially fuck up your life today.

So, yeah. Definitely went too far with it this time, but in your defense, it’s not like anyone was there to reign you in. Steve was just as liable to go on with your half-cocked schemes, even more so now that you could sit back on your heels, all pretty smiles and wide, sweet eyes as your hands unbuckle his belt, still supplicated with chin on his knee, “You said anything...”

Folded like a house of cards the second you got your mouth on him. Shudders when you begin with your tongue first before eager lips stretch to fit him, guiding until he’s nestled in your mouth. And then you move, deliberately measured, building a lazy pace, sluicing him up with spit.

“Ah, shit…” Steve’s words are already betraying him. You smile as his cock pops out of your mouth.

“How’s that? Still wanna make that dinner reservation?” Thick lashes framing glittering doe-eyes peer up at him. Purposely coy. “Or do you want to stay here?”

He returns to himself. Dazed, he blinks at the bright lights and the glossy tiled floor. The marble countertop of the sink where he grips like a lifeline.

The restroom down the hall of the restaurant. Turn a corner and twenty people are sitting at tables, drinking cocktails and cajoling. Your mouth back on him wipes the thoughts from his brain.

Squelching when you push him back past your molars, crushing your tongue.

You slide him out, voice hoarse and breathy and it chills him to the bone the way you whisper, “C’mon baby, let’s have some fun.”

The second day in California runs a lot more smoothly, and the third day is as easy as a breeze. Granted, it’s a hot, humid, sticky type of desert breeze as you wipe a hand across your forehead in the heat of the day.

Steve hums a patient tune, leans back on both palms and you watch the sunlight drape his bare chest in a warm flare. Glowing gold and bronze as if it’s transmuted from the hue in his very eyes.

He is hard and hot when your bare skin touches his. Steve lies down on his side to face you, panting slightly as you glide your hand up and down his arm. Oh fuck, it’s been months and the first man you touch is more like something carved by a master sculptor of Renaissance than any other man. It should be illegal for someone to look this good.

Trembling, you touch the hard planes of his torso, the ridges in his abdomen, the swell of his chest taking hard breaths. You shut your eyes and imagine the way he looks right now—breathless and wild. His knee parts your legs easily and one hand descends to feel your center, saturating your underwear.

“Jesus, baby,” Steve sighs into your neck. “You’re makin’ me crazy. This–” He begins to slide his digits up and down, getting the slippery wetness all over his fingers, “Already…”

A shudder rolls through your body upon hearing his words and you arch into his touch, moaning when he rubs your clit in perfect pulsing circles. He moves forward, kissing the tops of your breasts through your bra, nipping at the soft flesh spilling from the cups.

“Steve, you’ll make me come.” You admit, a little shyly even as your hips rock consciously into his hand. You paw at his arms, squeezing the ridges of muscles.

And you’re abruptly startled awake by the sound your own moans. It’s past four in the morning when you rouse from sleep, frustrated to leave behind the pleasant escape the dream provided.

Damn it all to hell.

A creak of the wood door alerts you to his arrival. Steve is quiet when he sits on your bed, one knee pulled up to his chest while the other leg slinks down by your side, thigh brushing yours where your legs kicked off the covers. A sigh rolls through him at the early hour.

There is discomfort. His body retreats with the shift of your atmosphere. Always too itchy in your own skin. Afraid of being seen, noticed, thought about. He’s good at hearing your silence. Good at reading your language.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

He glistens like a god come to drown you in the sweetest of dreams. It makes your heart plummet to its death at the thought of his departure when you shake your head.

“Me neither.”

He lays back on your bed with a tired sigh, close enough to touch. Your own personal wonder.

“C’mere then,” you tug him to your side. Steve presses his lips to your neck, smiles into the wispy hair at the nape, nuzzles your locks aside to reveal more shoulder. Breathing soft and slow with his face against your neck, chest to your chest. He’s folded and tucked against you, all his strength and gravity nestled to your side.

“Honey—” Steve murmurs, more purposefully now, rasps your name, so soft and reverent you almost don’t hear it.

A confused noise, a second of readjustment to a new position, to his touch, and then you stir and purr.

“Hey, you.” Voice like warm fire, even with disrupted sleep from past few days.

A heavy silence falls between you.

Tell me what you’re thinking. If it was a mistake, tell me. If it wasn’t, tell me. You’ve been avoiding me and look—I want your goddamn babies, but c’mon. You gotta throw me a bone, I’m shit at reading signs.

He wants to take you to pieces, eyes roving your sleep-drowsy form, shorts rucked up on your thighs, shirt askew. Would devour you whole if you’d let him, savor your cries and moans at his capable hands. Make a ruin you only to build you right back up, unable to think of anyone else save him.

Steve arches, brushing the tip of his nose against your chin, up to your own nose, mouth hovering but not quite touching, just feeling each other’s atmosphere. You cross the distance and kiss him, grip tighter now like he could collapse right into you and god, you wish he could. Let you keep every last bit of him forever.

“Can we—”

You savor his lips, caressing the line of his cupid’s bow with your own, tongue flicking over the corners of his mouth, punctuating it chastely like a ritual. He moans, hand on the plane of your back moving, fingers scrambling at your spine before he palms your thigh and slots you flush against his torso with one leg hooked around his waist.

“God yes. Lemme just—”

He tugs at the waistband of your sleeping shorts before he changes his mind and his hands slip into the leg opening of the silk instead, keeping you right where you are. He rucks his own sweats down, just enough to spring himself free, shushing your whines, never letting you get too far, slipping upward, finding your heat.

“Eyes on me, baby.”

“Okay, Steve—ah—”

Right. So this is happening. Like, right the fuck now.

Oh god.

You’re both surprised and terrified, blinking at his urgency, and then you start scrambling, too. A beatific grin blooms on your lips before you tip forward and slowly glide yourself down his considerable size, rubbing back and forth, hips moving easily.

Steve stutters breathlessly like he might go into shock. “You’re all fucking— oh fuckin’ hell.”

You only arch into it, holding his chin between your thumb and forefinger, kissing the bristles of his jaw. You’re soft and warm and he’s utterly overcome. Little noises fall from one mouth to another. An awkward shift and your thighs slip off his, head knocking into him, but neither of you are bothered.

A half-hearted cluck of your tongue gives way to a low moan and you shuffle, flush against his chest, bare bodies warm and growing hotter now. Your palm rubs down his chest, savoring the rougher feel of his hairs there, contrasting your own skin, grasping his jutting hipbones, the strong plane of his abdomen.

Eager fingers slip between flesh. Velvet and surprisingly slick and wrapping around his digits like syrupy flower petals. “Baby girl,” Steve hums at the way you sigh. “Pretty girl.”

Shudders. You’re weak and boneless, slack and supple, pliant to his fingers and words. Little sweet-talker, you never knew he had such a clever tongue until he first slid it against yours in that fevered kiss in December. Now he’ll know all your weaknesses, know every lock and how to pick them until you’re all the way opened up for him.

It’s hard to focus when he’s like this. Perfectly warm. Perfectly adoring. Perfectly fitted. So, so bright with the faintest pink bursting over his cheeks.

You whimper with his every stroke. Every plunge. His other hand runs itself up the nape of your neck, fingertips in your scalp and you arch like a cat for more.

“So good,” Steve praises, “Nice and tight, squeezin’ around me. All wet for me, aren’t you?”

“Uh— mhm.” Inarticulate noises. Woozy and wrapped in his affection.

His eyes– pupils blown wide, half-hooded with lust and love– immobilize you, memorizing every inch of your face. He smiles. Christ, a smile that could launch a thousand ships. That could blind the whole world.

You curse quietly, blood pounding in your ears, your chest, your throat where he latches on with his perfect mouth, marking you up with his spit quickly followed by his teeth.

“Keep going—oh, don’t stop–“

“You want it like this, honey?” He sucks on your collar, on your shoulder, taking every whimper and cry as a command to continue.

They flower all over your chest. Red and purple and swollen bright for everyone to see—just like him. And the very thought of him, of you, lost to it takes you over the edge, calling his name like you’re at an altar in supplication.

“That’s it, honey. Be a good girl and come for me.”

With a tremble that vibrates all the way to into Steve’s soul, you obey. Onto his hips and abdomen, gushing a little, and with some embarrassment that it happened all so quickly.

Your lids flutter open and you see as Steve hitches himself deeper, grinding his hips, gripping your thighs, and fills you all the way up until the stars behind your eyes whites out your vision, making you stutter and keen as you continue to fall apart.

Then he stills, pulling you even closer, body slick with dew in the early morning light. The two of you lie in perfect symmetry, trembling in each other’s arms.

And because you’re a sap with too much poetry rattling around your brain, all that pops into your head is:

In my dreams I am kissing your mouth and you’re whispering ‘where have you been?’ I say, ‘I’ve been lost but I’m here now. You’re the only person who has ever been able to find me.’

You allow yourself to sink into the feeling, expecting the tight fit of something new but finding that not to be the case at all. But rather brushing against something well-worn, as if it had been waiting for you all this time.

“God, Steve—” you rasp. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

Steve laughs low, kisses the blooming bruises up and down your neck, makes you whine again, sensitive and aching. His clever tongue wonders sweetly, “How’s staying in bed all day sound?”

You laugh. He’ll learn everything you like. Know all your weaknesses. How can you say no to something like that?

It’s different, almost tender in the afternoon.

His abs clench in time with his fists, wet fingers digging into his palms, bit-back groans barely contained. You keep going, marveling at the way he’s sensitive, kissing his neck, letting him feel good. Steve begins to protest, embarrassed at the way you’re moving, at how he’s powerless against you.

“S-slow—hold on—“

“Let me do it, Stevie.” He’s so hard it hurts. “I wanna learn everything you like.”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. Steve holds himself to calm down, other hand steadying your teasing. Nothing’s happened yet, you just started back up again after a late breakfast, having slept soundly through the morning, and he might already blow his whole fucking load.

“Okay—just—will you give me a second–”

Using the position you’re already in, he pushes you up against the mattress and guides you back down, hitching your thighs around his hips, sinking a bit at a time until you’re landing on him with a gasp. He eases into you with what he hopes is restraint, letting you have it slow, feeling you shudder from inside your goddamn bones with every further inch until he takes it away and you shimmy down to the hilt.

Your eyes roll back. And you look perfect.

“Was it good?” He blurts, “With Eddie?”

He doesn’t know why it slips out; he never thinks about it, honest. It was a series of hook ups. A few times over the years—and he’s not jealous like that because you’re all adults, and it’s not like he’s a virgin or an ascetic, either. You freeze, but he really is an idiot because instead of apologizing or rectifying that outburst, he cuts you off.

“I can give it to you better.”

Because Steve wants to. He really does.

He presses onward before you can respond, taking hold of what little courage he has, making you whimper, feeling prouder as he goes. Another one and you’re meeting him with a roll of your own hips. Another one, harder now, and you’re shaking down below him, tipping back into the pillows, grinding recklessly with that exhilaration he adores.

“Baby, you feel amazing.” Tongue-tied like a schoolboy, he’s keening after your words. “Can I have you all the time?” And Jesus wept who knew you could talk so sweet and filthy.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Steve promises, his jaw hanging open in awe, “I’m yours. You can have me as much as you want— anytime.”

You bite your lip, skin of it pulled taut and snapping back bruised, light-headed and reeling. Glistening across your collarbones with his spit, body trembling like a high note. He feels it— just a little more— god, you look incredible— he’s gotta hold out for this— and then—fuck.

It’s wet and divine when you come. Slick and tight, dragging him under as you ride out your orgasm, pulling him in like he belongs in you forever.

And he knows. He knows, he knows, he knows.

Steve could die happy seeing your face like this every day.

Two weeks prior…

“Eddie…tell me the truth,” You ask slowly, folding clothes (well, that’s a generous term— it’s more haphazardly tossing and bundling laundry into your open suitcase). “It’s good, isn’t it? Shawty, tell me what that thang do!”

You waggle your brows, make a V-shape with your fingers, and lewdly run your tongue up and down between them. Steve thinks he sees you looking at him, but he feels himself flushing at your comment and pretends like he’s enthralled with the most recent episode of Keeping Up with the Kardashians. Half-keeping an eye on you to make sure you actually pack actual pajamas and pants for this trip.

“Dude. Stop it.” Eddie groans, knowing you’re all too familiar with his endowments and prowess from previous experience.

Whomever currently was getting the Eddie Munson midnight special was having a helluva time.

You lob a pair of leggings toward your suitcase, “Kobe!”

You miss.

Eddie cackles, “How’re you gonna disrespect a legend like that, and miss?!”

“Okay!” Steve yells, pushing you off the couch in the living room, “That’s enough of that. I’m going for a run.”

Landing on your shoulder with a grunt, you brush away the rough sting of the carpet and catch the last second of his shadow before he’s gone from the room.

“What?” You call, projecting your voice and hoping he hears, “What’d I do? Steve!”

The scrape of the chair legs signals Eddie standing up, too. A shake of his head and he crosses his arms over his chest.

“You know,” he starts, “For all your insight, you’re pretty dense.”

There’s nothing in your head but sawdust and thoughts about his… activities under the sheets his flavor of the month. You shake it out of your brain before it lingers too long. Eddie points sharply down the hall to where Steve’s shadow has slipped out of view and hearing-distance.

“You know he likes you, right?”

Uh? Your brain is the mac loading wheel, just spinning. “Of course he does? We’re buddies?”

Eddie cuffs you in the back of the head, “Get it together. Like is putting it lightly, too. Love is closer to the truth.”

“Now,” Eddie leans over you, menacing you with his height. “How about you go listen to the record he gave you and think about what you’ve done, hmm?”

Then, he saunters off, shaking his head all the while, leaving you to gape down the hall like a fish. Steve? In love? With you?

Flashes explode in your brain like fireworks. His jacket over your shoulders—not the first time. Sitting underneath your legs— nearly tradition. Morning errand runs even though he hates them. The banter—him, scolding your motor-mouth, you— never stopping. Circles he rubs on your knees— the laughter—damn it, so much laughter.

Steve? In love? With you? It’s more likely than you think.

Back in your bedroom and chastened, you wait until the front door closes signaling Steve’s exit. Turning to the wall dedicated to your impassioned analytical skills, you eye the various colors of yarn showing the various connections that could be drawn from the song choice and order in which they were placed.

Printed out pages of lyrics have been annotated to death, some phrases scrawled more largely than others for importance. You stare at the wall for the better part of an hour, long enough to come to the end of the playlist. Sufjan Stevens rhapsodizes on the mystery of love and fades into Matt Berninger singing how he needs his girl.

A gasp. A choke and a wail somewhere deep inside your chest as you slowly, methodically begin removing the pins and pages from your wall. Realization settling on you heavy with mood.

Clearly, this was not some bush-league bullshit.

Hesitant, but growing in the knowledge that Steve, your best friend whom you annoy to no end, is irrefutably and undeniably in love with you. You’d have seen it sooner if you weren’t such a dumbass, all the signs had been there just lying in wait. The front door opens once more, his voice calling out to Robin in the kitchen about dinner.

“Steve.” You light out of your room, tearing down the hallway. “Stevie! Steve! I’m sorry! Steve oh my god! I’m a fuckup!”

You trip on the corner of the floor runner, as he turns, slightly confused, one hand reaching out to catch you as you careen into his chest with a thunk.

You must look a wreck, hair in disarray and panting hard, him sweat-slick, bearing your weight as he sets you right on your feet.

Steve raises an eyebrow, blinks at the way the front of your shirt slides from your shoulder and takes his ear buds out, looking at you like you’re a first-rate idiot.

And well ... he’s not wrong.

The flight to Vegas is painless, though you are put out at having to leave the love nest that bloomed like a night flower in the Californian desert. A lazy, slow start to the day. Sticky and sweet like biting into a ripe peach, juices flowing down against sun-warmed skin.

His hand pulling at yours, guiding you through the crowds of the airport, looking back to you frequently, as if he can’t bring himself not to. One hour later and viva, Las Vegas!

As it turns out, it’s fairly easy to fake a Vegas elopement. Just a matter of subterfuge and a wedding chapel, which are a plenty in Clark County. Steve in a suit (“You weren’t even wearing a tie, Steven! Who gets married looking like that!?”), rotating the signet of his ring out of sight, the ‘H’ resiting against the underside of his ring finger so just the band was visible.

You in a dress, something white and off the rack from Neiman’s, your ring, courtesy of Steve, moved from your right hand to your left. Sapphire earrings as your something blue, Manolo Blahnik pumps in your favorite color, a gift from Steve, as your something new.

A well-timed call to Jonathan, he was in town for a shoot and just so happened to have a few hours to kill. An appointment at the Graceland Wedding Chapel and 250 dollars later, you have yourself a believable elopement, no marriage certificate required.

Even drove out to the Red Rock Mojave desert outside of town for a photoshoot courtesy of one Jonathan Byers, professional photographer. By the time you’d made it back to your room at the Wynn that night, he’d already done a rough edit of a few photos for you to post to the ‘gram. Piece of cake, really.

It was all well and good. Steve even let you tag him and posted his favorite images himself, miracle of miracles. The man does jack shit with social media, claims he only has the account for the groupchats and memes. Captioned it something like ‘married AF’ because he’s a dork; first photo in the carousel was a shot of your hands, showing off the new bling with the wedding chapel sign in the background.

You opted for the more truthful, ‘ew, boy. you’re, like, obsessed with me’ and selected a photo where your legs wrapped around Steve’s hips after he’d told you to ‘time to giddy-up, yeah?’ with a wink and caught you in his arms before kissing you stupid. You were quite pleased with yourself until the phones began to ring.

“Jus’ ignore it, honey.” His teeth pull against your bottom lip, bringing your attention back to him. You screw your eyes shut, hand falling to cup the nape of his neck as his lips continue their mapping of your skin. Purposefully, he plays with a lock of your hair, tucks it behind your ear, and lets his finger ghost over your neck. “Gonna kiss you now,” you murmurs, “Doin’ some of my best work here and you’re missing it.”

He pouts.

Your throat clenches, bobbing with a thick swallow and Steve thinks if this wasn’t so tender and sweet, he’d be latching onto that pulse instead. “Okay…” Your mouth parts expectantly, eyes fluttering closed, hand coming up to caress his jaw.

It’s sublime. It’s perfect. It’s the biggest relief he’s ever felt when you return his touch—parting your lips to receive the tip of his tongue against yours. Thirst. Desperation. Enthusiastic limbs scrambling to feel more of him. A bucking of your hips against his thigh and he’s soaring up into heaven with the sensation.

Except the damn phone won’t stop ringing.

“Steve,” you pant, hand reaching up to fist his hair and pull him from your the sensitive spot he’s located behind your ear. As you tangle your fingers in his mane of hair, securing your grip with a tug, he breaks contact with your slick skin with a strangled moan.

Oh.

You file that particular reaction away for further investigation and direct his attention to the loudly ringing phone on the nightstand. He rolls off of you with an exasperated noise and answers the call in a sulk. “Hi, Ma.”

His expression changes so quickly you nearly have whiplash; lazy and pouty one moment to shocked silent in the next while his mother lectures him, a mile a minute. Eyes cutting to you, he grabs your phone from the same table and holds it in font of you to unlock it via Face ID. You roll your eyes and bat him away, taking a slug of water from the glass on your bedside table.

“Shit,” Steve mutters, putting himself on mute and his mom on speaker as he scrolls through your phone. “Holy fucking shit, nonono.”

You lean over and take a peek. He’s thumbing through Facebook, pupils blown wide in shock at the sheer number of notifications on his accidental post. Because yes, Steve accidentally cross-posted the photos from Instagram to Facebook as an update, like genius.

“Are you fucking kidding me!?”

He drops your phone on the bed when it starts to ring, like it’s a venomous thing that could take him down in one strike.

Sheepishly, he looks to you and mouths ‘I’m so sorry’ as he returns to his mother’s raging diatribe.

After checking the caller ID, you answer, voice flat. “Hello.”

“You little scamp,” Eddie tuts, “Stole my idea of eloping in Vegas and everything, I hate you.”

In spite of yourself, you crack a smile. “It’s a prank, babe.” A sigh as you pull your hair up and off of your shoulders. “Not legally binding at all. Having Byers on deck really sold the idea though.”

“You are the absolute worst, Trouble.” You warm at his soft laughter, “What’d you do to get Steve to agree? Drop to you knees all nice and pretty?”

A swell of pride accompanies the rush of heat at the thought of your earlier rendezvous. “Y’know Eds, I did exactly that. How perceptive of you.”

He cackles. “It’s tried and true for a reason, babe.” Steve is nodding furiously at whatever his mother is yammering on about, bare back toward you as he sits on the edge of the bed.

A push and a slide across the rumpled sheets and you’ve wrapped around him like a vine. His thumb rubs at your ankle, pulling your leg to envelop his hip. Opposite arm dangling across his chest as you press your face into his neck, revelling in his scent—cypress, vetiver, and something slight musky tinged with salt. All warm and pliable.

“Nance may have called in some reinforcements.” Eddie says carefully. “I told her to fuck off, but she’s beyond reason at this point.”

“Whaddya mean?”

He sighs, “Just be on the lookout for an angry lesbian, alright?”

You snort, drawing Steve’s attention. He twists in your hold, phone discarded on the table finally, fingers trailing tantalizingly up and down your sides. Pushes you back against the bed, chin resting on your sternum as you talk with Eddie, head tilted as he listens.

Begging off the phone call, you say your goodbyes. “Hey,” Eddie says before you go, voice soft and warm, “You happy babe? You sound it.”

“Yeah,” you turn your head and grin at the ridiculousness of your life. Steve follows your lips, his own blazing a trail across your chest and up to meet your shoulder. “I’m really happy, Eds.”

Steve plucks the phone from your hand, “Bye Munson!” He sings before ending the call and unceremoniously dropping your phone on the floor.

And Steve never thought a person was supposed to laugh so hard during sex, or maybe that’s just your own brand of love, but he doesn’t want to find out with anyone else.

It’s the fifth time, and Steve’s dick is about to fall off—how are you still doing this—just a few thrusts in when the banging on the door frightens the both of you into your clothes.

Robin swings it open and Steve is desperately tucking himself into his pants before—please, no.

“It smells like ass in here!” She hollers, “The hell have you two been—oh my god.”

“Shut up, Rob!” You respond from the corner of the room, head ripping through the neck hole of a shirt, legs wiggling into a pair shorts. Steve is still shirtless, hoping he might spontaneously combust.

“Oh my god,” Robin whispers again, “Oh… my god.” She sputters on the verge of either eruption or death.

“You freaky little—” she hisses, before screaming, “Oh fuck no! I’m here picking your asses up. Got on a flight at ass o'clock from Indy— you're butt-ass-naked in here—” She stands ram-rod straight, hands on her hips angrily. “I’m tellin’ on you.”

“Telling on?! What are you, five!? You’re so annoying, Rob!”

“Annoying? What’s annoying is—I’m exhausted! And well— you're exhausted too, huh?”

“I hate you.”

She snickers, high-fiving herself before crossing her arms, “Now get your freaky asses outside so I can go home and drink myself into forgetting I ever saw Harrington’s dick.”

You pat her on the shoulder, “It’s nice, huh?”

Robin dry-heaves, “Uh-uh. That’s enough. Go wash your damn hands.”

A few minutes later, Steve closes the door to the now-silent hotel room, damp with sweat and the lingering aroma of musk. Robin trots on ahead, leading the pair of you through the lobby and out into the dry desert heat.

His hand pulls at yours, reassuring and warm. A small smile blooms across your face and you allow yourself to revel in it for a moment: heading home with Steve, can't even bring yourself to be all that mad at Robin's antics.

Not when he turns back to check on you, all tan skin and that devastating smile. Tugs you closer as Robin flags down the Uber, lays his lips against yours, and kisses you with a sweetness only he could bring.

Oh yeah, you think tangling your free hand in his shirt. This'll do just fine.

#steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #reader insert #teacher!steve #the kids aren't alright - rosewaterandivy

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