#hope that you like it xx

[harmonictechnicality]

model!steve and voice actor!Eddie (part 2)

part 1 here | ao3 link here | the temp is up on this one so like... dni if under 18 pls

Steve spends a lot of his spare time at the gym. Comes with the territory of modeling or whatever. Gotta keep himself strong, without developing bulging muscles. Gotta keep himself toned, without becoming too lean. Somewhat of a balancing act to this media fuckery circus.

Times are changing, yeah maybe. But not for puffy-lipped preps with killer bone structure. Steve still falls under the category of stereotypical Pretty Boy, and he’s chill with that. Fucking owns it.

Most days…

He’s currently cooling down on the treadmill - brisk walk, almost a jog. It’s a good pace for multitasking some adult shit that he needs to get done. Staying hydrated, keeping his photoshoot calendar up-to-date, answering a few emails. Yada yada.

Steve takes a swig of his seaweed (more like arsenic) smoothie. Opens the top email that reads:

The Fallen King - Final Commercial Cut

Right. Steve almost forgot about this particular shoot. Well, tried to repress the thoughts of that mega-douche director who kept referring to Steve’s ass as ‘prime real estate.’ Fucking creep.

He scrolls down to the attached file and slides his headphones back over his ears.

The ad opens with a wide shot of Steve draped over the throne, fog swelling around the bottom of the screen. The music is an eerie cello solo, set to a heavy bassline. 

Just another oversexualized cologne campaign, he thinks. Probably will barely feature the product because they paid big money for Steve’s body. Gotta get their fill of it (ha, they fucking wish Steve would fill them up).

But then the narration rolls into his ears and the room does a somersault. Practically inverts it’s axis at the sound dripping in Steve’s ears:

‘The mighty will fall from grace…’

“Oh shit.” Steve almost wipes out on the treadmill, has to catch his fall on the side bars. His knees are tingling, calves molten and shaky. Already half hard, which is definitely going to be a problem in these flimsy, mesh gym shorts.

‘Forbidden love and public slander…’

But that voice. That tone. That sinful register set in the minor key of Holy Fuck.

‘Will bring them to their knees.’

Alright, that fucking does it. Steve pauses the video before he’s fully tenting-out in a goddamn fitness center. Packs up his shit, chucks the sludge smoothie in the trash, and finds an empty stall. Emphatically locks it.

“Agh, damnit!” Steve's thumb slips over the screen and exits out of the video. It scrolls back to the top of the email - a new message has been added to the chain.

Seriously, what obnoxious fucker does ‘Reply All’ these days?

The new message reads:

Great work, team. (Sorry for being such a vocal slut.)

(… Not that sorry though.) - Eddie Munson

That’s right - the voice artist. Almost didn’t recognize the voice, but the repressed memory of that day comes flying to the surface when Steve sees the name. 

He recalls the guy being objectively cute too. Not in the California ‘sun-kissed skin’ kind of way. More in the Seattle ‘rain forces me to be a pale homebody’ kind of way. His eyes were something else though. They reminded Steve of the sepia tone filters he used in his early modeling portfolio. No way in hell Steve could ever forget knockout eyes like that.

The locker room is empty. Steve reopens the video, raises the volume high enough to mute out the thin hum from the air conditioning unit. Only wants to hear Eddie’s voice. That’s it. 

He’s already touching himself when the first phrase falls out of the headphones. Can’t even help it now that he’s alone. It’s all too good. Works himself up all stuffy and sensitive by the time the new part comes up:

‘Drenched in their guilt. Soaked in their shame.’

Fucking christ.

‘Choking on worthless confessions…’

Nope. Nope. Absolutely not. Choking? Worthless? What is this, a sado hotline? Steve feels the heat spreading on his neck, flushed over in a non-exercise way. There’s a thump in his dick, has to squeeze his fingers around it. Like his body needs a reminder to calm the fuck down.

‘Until all that is left of them is desolate darkness.’

Pretty sure the raspy exhale after every phrase is going to do Steve in, saturate his last ounce of dignity with want. Eddie’s breathing is taking Steve’s breath away, and that’s an outright mindfuck. Earfuck. 

Something is getting fucked, and somehow, Steve still needs more.

While the song sustains, Steve strokes himself to the percussive rhythm. 

‘The Fallen King. The scent of secrets.’

The hiss on the last syllable fades into the music till everything fizzles out, going dead silent.

Well, everything goes silent except for Steve, who is utterly rattled. Can hear his dense breath and it’s way too noisy for a public space. The pulse in his neck is irregular, hitched the fuck up. His smartwatch is buzzing, alerting him that his heart rate is elevated, which duh. His whole body feels like it underwent some sexual awakening in the middle of a fitness center. 

And, sure. That’s a common place for people to realize how gay and desperate they are, but not like this. Not with zero visuals of sweaty bodies. 

Before he starts the video over to… finish the job, a phone call lights up his screen. Because of course it does.

He reads the name and swipes it open. “What’s up, Buckley?”

“I need coffee.” Robin whines, already pouting into the phone speaker no doubt. 

“You always need coffee.”

“Yeah but like… it tastes better when you buy me coffee.”

“Oh, so you want to mooch off of your own client?” Steve teases because he can. They can annoy the shit out of each other and write it off as endearment. “Pretty unprofessional of you, Ms. Manager.”

Robin groans. Makes it a long one too - probably to show off both her annoyance and lung capacity. “Fuck all the way off, you were my friend first. Always friends first.”

“Always friends first.” Steve agrees. She’s right, usually is about most things. Robin has been his manager since his last agency went bankrupt from pouring their funds into promoting Fyre Fest. And everyone knows that turned out to be an entire fuckshow.

Honestly, it’s easier this way - Robin being his manager. They get to hang out more, he has more input on gigs that he’s interested in…

Interested in. Huh. The metaphorical lightbulb flicks on in Steve’s voice-drunk brain. Having his best friend as his manager is also convenient when Steve needs the phone number of a certain co-worker.

“Alright, fine.” Steve has a sly grin on as he talks. “I’ll bring over some coffee.”

“Thank god.”

“If!”

“Ugh.”

He huffs out a laugh. “If you can send me the cast and crew contact sheet from the Fallen King commercial.”

“Ew, why?” Robin asks, sounds totally repulsed. Valid, that shoot was Objectification Station.

But truly, Steve’s not in the mood to make up an excuse. He’s sore and sweaty and half-hard. So he just gets to the damn point. “Look, do you want coffee or not?”

“Okay okay.” That’s one way to speed up the process. Caffeine threats - works every time. “Dropping the file to you now.” 

“You’re the best.” Steve sings.

“I know, I know.” And the line clicks dead.

Okay. This is not a booty call, it’s not.

Steve is just texting a semi-stranger to tell him that his voice is potentially the hottest thing he’s ever heard. Okay, he’ll definitely phrase it better than that, maybe throw a few emojis in there to normalize the tone. Soften it up to sound very un-stalkery.

Yeah. Not a booty call. And if Eddie happens to send an audio message, and Steve happens to jerk off to it… still not a booty call, right?

Pathetic, maybe. But not basic, thank fuck.

He types, then re-types the message out way too many times before settling on this:

Steve: Great work on the commercial voiceover! Got ur number from the call sheet. hope that’s cool.

Steve hits send before realizing he didn’t have the goddamn common sense to introduce himself. He’s not even a rookie at hookups, why is he suddenly so frazzled by this guy?

“This is Steve by the way…” he mumbles into an audio message. Hits send, then quickly makes another:

“The… model guy.”

The model guy? What in the flustered hell is going on with him?

A chime notification goes off maybe two minutes after Steve sends the last message. Which is like… hot. Shameless fast texters are a millennial turn-on, for sure.

It’s a voice text, so Steve takes thirty seconds to calm down whatever involuntary throb just happened in his sweatpants. He sucks in some air and presses play:

“Pretty sure all the kids these days just send a ‘u up’ message to people they wanna dick down at midnight.”

Damn. Eddie’s voice sounds totally different, but just as sexy. Like amateur porn sexy. Is amateur audio porn a thing? It should be.

Steve quickly saves the audio file and types back.

Steve:  Ok pls don’t mention ‘kids’ while I’m trying to flirt with u

Eddie: Waitwaitwait So we're definitely flirting right now? I actually interpreted that correctly?

Steve: Like u said It’s midnight So… *shrug emoji*

And a phone call comes through. Eddie’s contact name flashing in a harsh light, too blinding and too unexpected. Steve’s heart is hammering at his rib cage, suddenly so fucking nervous. He waits until the last ring to answer, buys himself some time cause god knows, he needs it.

Steve takes a breath and swallows. “He-”

“Okay, so you do realize this is the sewer rat voice actor guy from the commercial shoot, right?” Eddie interrupts, sounds out of breath. “And not like… a fellow model or Timothee Chalamet’s cousin or something?”

That earns a hearty laugh and eye-roll from Steve. “He is so not my type.”

“Thought he was everyone’s type.”

“Nah.” Steve rolls onto his belly, very giddy and disarmed by the ease of the exchange. His nerves are set aside, replaced with his usual confidence. “More into sewer rat voice actor guys.”

“That… is some very specific criteria.” Eddie coughs or maybe it's just a dry laugh. He sounds pleased as hell, so laugh seems more likely. “Holy shit, I’m flirting with a model!”

“You’re cute." Steve should not be so charmed right now, but the impulsive honesty is really doing it for him. "Dorky, but cute.” 

Eddie mumbles something incoherent, then clears his throat. Speaks quieter this time. “So why’d you text?”

“So why’d you call?”

“Just, uh… needed confirmation that this is real life.”

Steve lets out a ‘hmm,’ thinks of a proper response to that. “If I was there, I could pinch you. Ya know... so you’d know it’s real.” Okay. Maybe not proper, but whatever. It’s late. His brain is half scrambled from hormones and exhaustion, cut him some slack.

“Would do a lot more than pinch you if you were actually here.” And sure, Eddie might have mumbled that, but Steve clearly heard it. He heard exactly what Eddie just suggested.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Fuck, we’re doing this?” Eddie whispers.

Steve turns onto his back again, lets his hand wander down. “If you’re into that. Like hearing your voice, Eddie.”

“Like hearing you say my name like that.” And Eddie sounds like he means it. His tone is smoothing over, the same way it did in the narration. “You sound so worked up already.”

Steve moans, chest falling hard enough that the phone slips. Has to reposition it to get all that good vocal seduction back in his ear.

“God, wish I could see what you look like right now.” Eddie exhales, getting that nice rasp that Steve likes so much. It’s sultry and rich. Breathless at just the right moments. “Bet you’re lying down, aren’t you? Phone wedged between your neck and ear cause your hands are too busy to hold it properly. Am I right?”

“Yeah.” Steve pushes past the waistband of his sweatpants, then his boxers.

Eddie hums. Growls. “The things I’d do to you like that. Lying down, looking so eager to please. Saw how good you are at taking direction that day of the shoot. Does that apply in the bedroom too, baby?”

“It… fuck.” Steve strokes himself slowly. Can barely get the words out cause it feels like he's chewing on Eddie's voice. Swallowing every syllable. “Yeah, it does.”

“See - that’s the problem, isn’t it?”

“Problem?”

“That I don’t know what you’re into. How you like it.”

“Pretty open to… trying things.” Steve reassures, eyes closing to soak in every sensation. “Just keep talking.”

And thank all that is holy, Eddie does just that. He keeps talking. “Can’t stop thinking about that pretty neck of yours. How I’d kiss it, suck on it till your skin goes tender and soft under my lips. Till your head rolls back like it did in that video.”

Eddie's words are syrup. Heavy and tempting. “I’d let you rest it on my shoulder while I get my hands all over you. See what sweet spots drive you wild, get you to squirm for me.”

Steve's grip tightens, pumping at a pace that’s close to getting fucked. A pace that makes it easier to pretend that it’s Eddie’s hand wrapped around him, making his vision blurred and spotty - even with his eyes screwed shut.

“Eddie, you’re… oh my god.” Steve whines, knows it must be pretty fucking loud with the speaker smushed against his cheek. “You’re so good at this.”

Eddie shushes him, sounds like he’s snickering a bit. “I’d tease you like that until your thighs start to tremble. Until you beg me to go further. End the torture.”

“Fucking christ…please.” Guess Steve really is that good at taking direction. Or maybe he’s extra easy for guys that turn his brain into liquor. Too busy begging to know which one it might be. “Keep going.”

Eddie’s laugh is dark and rough. “Sounds nice hearing you beg like that. Like sin.”

Feels like sin too. 

Steve’s fingers are slicked nicely with precome. The friction of his palm is making everything warmer, better. And stirring all of those feelings up with Eddie’s voice? Fucking hell, Steve is close. He’s so damn- “Okay, okay. If we don’t stop, I’m gonna-”

“I know.” Eddie purrs, sweetly mean. “Thought that was the point.”

“Cannot believe I'm about to say this, but maybe…” Steve has to dig his hand out from his boxers to complete the sentence. Knocks his head against the wall because his behavior is totally batshit right now. “Maybe I want to see you again first? Is that weird?”

His skin sort of tingles from going this long without finishing. Never solved the blue-balling issue back at the gym either, so Steve’s on the verge of climax insanity right now. Didn’t think he’d discover an edging kink at the ripe age of twenty-five, but eureka. Here it is.

“Not weird.” Eddie’s voice returns back to a calmer one. The one that doesn’t make Steve want to bend over and get fucked so hard that his organs shift around. “I mean, I’m weird, sure. But wanting to complete this in person is not weird. Very un-weird, in fact.”

“You talk a lot.”

“Yeah well… voice actor.” Eddie says, sort of deadpan. “You couldn’t see that, but I just did ‘razzle dazzle’ hands.”

Shit, Steve really likes this guy. He just used the phrase ‘razzle dazzle hands,’ and Steve is still horny for him. Wow.

“Is tomorrow too soon?” Steve manages to say before overthinking it.

“Tomorrow-tomorrow, or like today-tomorrow?” Eddie asks. “Cause it’s past midnight.”

Right. Booty call time moves at an entirely different pace than normal time does. “Today-tomorrow. If you’re free.”

“Free as a dead composer’s anthology of music.” Eddie answers happily.

Steve opens his mouth to respond, then shuts it because what? What does that even mean? Is that a yes or a no? Goddamnit, his head hurts. Too many questions, not enough orgasms.

“Most classical music is royalty-free.” Eddie clears his throat, sounds like he’s tapping on something. “… So yeah. I’m free.”

“Right.” Steve chuckles, hard to believe he’s unapologetically gushing. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Eddie.”

“Great. See you today, Steve.” Eddie is still snorting at his own joke while the call ends.

They haven’t sorted out any of the details yet, but it doesn’t matter. It’s happening. It’s real.

So real, that he wants an actual date with Eddie before steamy phone sex. He wants to make Eddie laugh before making him come. That's like... unheard of for Steve. Uncharted.

Damn.

Today-tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

[caelanglang]

Letter to Mackerel… I miss you to the stars and back

continuation of the childhood AU I made :3

I hope our planets collide again...

continuation here

[valoale]

Merry Christmas @xx-thedarklord-xx ! ❤️

Based on this post that was super duper cute and I couldn't stop thinking about it so I decided to fulfil Scorpius' wish and gave him a baby brother— it's what he deserves. 💅🏻 Merry Christmas Sam, thank you for being the kindest and most supportive human being on Earth. Had the hardest autumn but you made it way better and I’m grateful for that ❤️

[abouttofillhisshoes]

Do you see me? - Matty Healy

A/N: okay it's sort of short and a bit shit and i played around with the dynamic so it might seem off xx thanks @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff you absolute legend for finding the titles for my blurbs by scouring the 1975's discography based off my extremely vague parameters❤️

wc: 3.5k

content warnings: matty in lingerie (again), mpind typical cursing, bondage (handcuffs), thigh riding, cumplay, begging, switch! Matty, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, matty being a knob as per use

Your head is throbbing, the beat of the shitty house music still echoing in your skull even twenty minutes later. Matty is hanging on your arm, weighing you down as he rambles on about how shit the drinks were, and that you shouldn't have bothered going out in the first place. He was right, the diluted alcohol and trashy EDM ruining a perfectly good sunday night, better spent at an actual club instead of some random blokes house. 

Matty’s hands grip your back as you push the front door open, keeping his balance as the platform boots he had borrowed from you made it quite difficult to walk normally. The light in the foyer automatically comes on, the fancy motion sensors painting the space in a warm glow, casting a shadow over the unorganized pile of shoes on the floor.  

His hands run up your sides as you toe your heels off, tugging your dress down when it rides up, lace scratching the skin of your thighs. Your choice of attire this evening was a tight bodycon dress, red lace details adorning the neckline and bottom hem, a pretty contrast against the black fabric, clinging to your body like a second skin. Matty’s mouth fell open when he saw you slip it on, adjusting its straps in the floor length mirror in your bedroom. 

“Look so pretty tonight, love this dress on you.” he mumbled as his eyes raked up and down your body, drinking you in. 

The party was a flop, both of you promising never to go to that specific house ever again, also deciding to better stay clear of the friend that had extended the invite. 

Since you arrived, his hands were always on some part of your body, whether they were wrapped around your waist, resting on your lower back, or intertwined with yours, his thumb rubbing small circles into the back of your hand. 

Matty leans down to press a kiss to your glossed lips, a peck quickly transforming into his fingers weaving into your hair, pulling you against him. You give into his touch, your bodies flush as he pushes you backwards in the direction of the living room, your knees hitting something wooden. 

“Just- yeah, this is better.” he says as he seats you down onto his posh little decorative chair, the wood smooth against the back of your thighs. Matty’s favorite piece of furniture was a oak wood sitting room chair, the armrests cared to look like trees and flowers, painted in pretty pastels. You always found it a bit morbid, seeing as a tree had died to create it, and painting its living counterpart onto a corpse wasn't really to your taste. 

His lips are hot against yours, tongue licking into your mouth with fervor as you sigh into the kiss, letting your eyes droop closed. Your breathing is heavy, chest heaving against his as he leans over you, dominating the kiss. It felt odd, him above you while you let him kiss you, not the other way around. Lost in your thoughts, you don't even notice one of his hands stop touching you. 

The click is impossible loud as you feel a cool sensation on the skin of your wrist. Your eyes snap open, landing on Matty first before dragging down to your left hand, a pair of handcuffs coming into view. It takes a few seconds for it to actually click. Handcuffs. Matty had handcuffs, and they were on you, also on the armrest. Wait, what? 

Matty chuckles at your confusion, taking the opportunity to reach into his back pocket, pulling out another pair, snapping them onto your right wrist before you could even react properly.   

“What the fuck- Matty?” you sound a bit panicked, tugging at the restraints, not really understanding the purpose of his actions. That was, until you see a filthy smirk spread onto your boyfriend's face.

“Let me out, I swear to fucking god. I don't care what you are playing at.” you resort to immediately throwing around threats, the feeling of being trapped overwhelming you. All he does is watch you struggle, a mischievous expression on his face. 

He presses a finger to your lips, shushing you condescending as cures spill from your lips, the metal of the handcuffs harshly digging into your skin.

“In a bind?” he taunts, his hand stroking your face as you glare at him, not liking the lack of control you possessed. It felt strange, your eyes searching his for a hint of humor, maybe this was a prank? A crude joke to rile you up, his incessant need for attention always finding new, innovative ways to get it from you.

“Fuck you, what do you want?” you spit, eyes narrowing in suspicion. 

“There's so many things I want, but let's start with a simple task first.” he twirls a strand of his hair around his finger, pouting at you. Annoyance bubbles up inside of you, threatening to overflow.

“Be nice to me, won't you? I’ve put in so much effort into your seduction, give me some credit.” His definition of effort was distracting you long enough to snap two pairs of expensive looking handcuffs onto your wrists, but it was more elaborate than his usual routine, which was constantly being nuisance until you gave in. 

“Seduction? More like trickery, you dickhead.” he winces at your insult, clutching his chest over his heart, playing up his offense. 

He tuts at you, mimicking exactly what you did whenever he mouthed off at you. The lightbulb in your head finally clicks on. 

“You could have just told me you wanted attention.” your expression darkens as his eyes dart around, acting caught. That couldn't really be it, right? This was way to much extravagance, even for Matty 

“That's it, isn't it?” he waves a hand to dismiss your words and you scoff, bewildered and intrigued, wondering how long he was going to keep this up for until he finally gave up, letting you free. He spins around on the heel of his foot, hips swaying as took a few steps away from you 

“Watch me.” His voice is thick, sultry, different.

He faces you, his whole body shamelessly on display for you to gawk at. A thin white button down covers his chest, the first four buttons already open, showing traces of his tattoos. The leather trousers he wears look painted onto him, clinging to his legs, the waist of them so low it was obscene.

His fingers work at the remaining buttons as you drink him in, unabashedly staring at his lower half, the leather barely concealing his growing erection. 

The faint trail of hair under his belly button becomes visible as the shirt slips down his shoulders, pooling onto the ground next to his feet. His hands run over his skin, feeling himself up while you sit exactly three feet away, unable to do anything about it but watch, the sight driving you insane. 

He had never denied you like this before, always being ready and willing for you to touch him, feel him, graze your nails over his cock as his back arched into you, begging for relief. It had always been the other way around, Matty on his knees, pleading for your hands, mouth, anything. 

“You're so rough with me.” His voice is whiny as he makes eye contact with you, trailing his fingers over the myriad of hickeys and bite marks that littered his neck, all various shades of purple and red, some faded more than others.

“So aggressive, turns me on.” he breathes harshly, pressing down onto a particularly prominent mark, hissing at the pain that radiated from it. 

“Does it now?” you say, fighting to keep your composure.  

“Yeah.” he parts his lips provocatively, throwing his head back as his hands leave his throat, running through his tangled mess of curls instead.

“Is that why you wouldn't leave me alone at the party?” you try to keep your answers short and simple, attempting to conceal the blatant arousal clouding your mind. Your thighs clench together, your dress riding up slightly. 

“Among other things.” 

You swallow as he takes two steps towards you, his movements fluid and sensual, the look in his eye unrecognizable.

His hand suddenly grabs your face, squeezing it harshly between his fingers. Your lips pucker, a bit of drool falling onto his digits, and you can't do anything but take it, a foreign feeling taking over your body.

“Gorgeous.” he mutters, slipping his thumb past your parted lips. Breathless, you let him explore your mouth, saliva pooling on your tongue as he presses down. 

It all feels surreal, the way Matty just does, not once asking for permission. You can see that familiar glimmer in his eye, an unconscious urge to submit, to serve still present, even if his actions tell a completely different story.

“Do not take your eyes off me.” you nod mindlessly, like you’d ever dream of missing a second of what was happening in front of you. 

His slender fingers toy with the zipper of his trousers, and he smirks at the way you lunge forward, promptly hindered by the cuffs still around your wrists. You seem to keep forgetting that fact, your entire body on fire as he makes delicious eye contact with you, unbuttoning the leather. 

You stare, entranced by his movements, slow and deliberate, yet still never letting you get used to one singular thing. He pushes the trouser down, a hint of his underwear visible over the waistband.

Green catches your eye, and it's not until his fingers reach to snap the fabric against his skin that you realize what he’s wearing.  

“Let me out.” you warn, breathless. The panties you had eyed at that store, the ones he had put into the basket and paid for with a wink.

“No.”

“LET ME OUT.” you pull violently, yanking at the metal, hoping it would snap off or break or something, anything to get your hands on Matty. He chuckles at your reaction, raising his eyebrows as you cease your struggle 

“Where's the fun in that?” he says, palming himself through the underwear, moaning at the relief. You whine, rapidly tapping your foot against the floor when you realize that your efforts are futile. Leave it to Matty to buy handcuffs made out of titanium, even if the pink color of them made them look cheap. 

“Matty, let me out- you can't just- not when you look like that.” you choke, not knowing where to look as he sets his hands on your shoulders, grinning wildly, the expression on your face satisfying him.

“Relax, let it happen.” he coos into your ear, his legs moving to straddle you in the spacious chair.

His lips catch yours in a passionate kiss, your teeth clashing against each other in a mess of spit and tongue. You moan pathetically into his mouth, your mind clouded in lust and desperation, begging him to uncuff you.

You let yourself be kissed, his mouth slowly moving down your jaw, nipping the skin with his teeth, leaving light scratch marks in their wake. 

He alternates between sucking and biting your neck, the sensation making you dizzy with need, your thighs squeezing together in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure.

“What do you feel?” he asks, pulling away to get a good look at your face. His eyes dart over your face, drinking in the mess he’d reduced you to. 

“What?”

“You’re not in control, I have you. What do you feel?” he breathes against your ear, sucking the lobe between his teeth. Your breath hitches, a familiar heat spreading throughout your body, your nipples hardening under your dress as he cups your tits.

“It’s-” you gasp, being cut off by his erection grinding down onto your bare thigh.

“Good?” he finishes, the words dragged out as the pleasure blooms inside of him, all the blood in his head rushing south. 

“Amazing.” you know he cant help himself, and you tense your leg under him, feeling his cock twitch against you.

His arms wrap around your neck as he ruts against your thigh, moaning into your ear, holding nothing back. You whisper small praises back, encouraging him even if you don't want to, the blissed out look on his face making you crack a prideful smile. 

“Feels so good taking you like this, can't even put me in my place, can you?” he mumbles as the wet patch on the front of his panties grows larger, precum leaking onto your skin.

“You're fucking finished once I get out of this.” you threaten, fists clenching and unclenching around the armrests. 

“Is that a threat or a promise?” he deliberately pitches his voice, letting out performative moans as his hips stutter, the tip of his cock brushing against a rough bit of lace.

“God- fuck, you were onto something with these.” he snaps the waistband of his panties, hissing at the sting.

“Feels amazing, especially if it's you I'm rubbing up against.” his hand strokes your face, his chest and cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink as you eye him up and down, your lips slightly parted.  

“It’d feel so much better if you’d let me go.” you try, knowing it's futile to fight him. He pretends to ponder, stilling against your thigh as his eyes narrow in deep thought. You knew better than to believe it was a genuine debate, his filthy smirk returning when you realize he wasn't going to release you anytime soon. 

He laughs in your face, borderline delirious as he grinds against you, whimpering dirty strings of curses into your ear, his breath hot and intoxicating.

He uses you to get himself off, feeding off of the undivided attention you give him, your eyes never leaving his body. 

His moans grow louder as his cock leaks all over you, his panties completely ruined by now.

“F-fuck, i’m so close. Wanna watch me cum? See how good you make me feel- shit.”

Your pupils are blown out, eyes wide as you watch him cum with a choked groan, spilling all over your thigh, sullying the bottom part of your pretty dress.

Matty’s breathing is erratic, curses falling from his lips as he shakes from the force of his orgasm, his face buried into the crook of your neck as you squirm desperately.

“Are you satisfied?” you mumble, slightly fucked off at the fact that you hadn’t been able to touch him at all, that he had gotten there all on his own.

“Very.” his voice is muffled by your hair, his hands trailing up to cup your tits, groping them with a glint in his eye. You shiver under his touch, pleasure blooming from your chest.

“I could've done it better.” he chuckles at your words, pressing a sweet kiss to the side of your mouth.

“I know, but it was worth it seeing you all riled up.” you roll your eyes in annoyance, hips bucking upwards against the weight of him, searching for any sort of relief.

“Are you desperate?” he coos into your ear, his breath hot against your cheek as his fingers toy with the hem of your dress, covered in his cum.

You scoff at him, trying to calm down and steady your breath as he drops to his knees, nuzzling his face into your lap, peering up at you. 

He parts his lips, tongue lapping up the remnants of his orgasm, licking you clean. You feel the world spin around you, every single part of you screaming at him to you fucking do something.

“Please.” you force out, his hand parting your legs further.

“Oh?” there's a hint of victory in his voice, knowing he’s won. You were giving in, scooting to the edge of your seat, anything to get closer to him. 

His fingers push the lacey hem of your dress, your damp underwear visible against your aching cunt.

“You’re so wet, I can see it from here.” you blush, moving to close your legs. He stops your attempt, digging his nails into your skin.

“Keep them spread, m’gonna make you feel so good.” 

“I need you, please Matty fuck-” his palms grip your thighs as he mouths at your cunt, licking the fabric of your panties, occasionally grazing his teeth other your clothed clit. 

You whimper and moan, bucking into his mouth as he slips them off with his teeth, winking at you when you make eye contact. 

He balls your underwear up and throws it off to the side, forgotten, in the corner. Faced with your glistening core, he licks up your slit, relishing in the way you clench your walls around his tongue, getting lost in the taste of you. 

“It tastes so good, I could spend my whole life right here.” you can only whimper in response, the metal of the handcuffs around your wrists digging into your skin, the dull pain only amplifying the pleasure of Matty sucking your clit between his lips. 

Wet sounds fill the room as he lets you grind against his face, taking back a sliver of the control he had ripped away from you. You feel lightheaded, waves of pleasure washing over you as he doubles his efforts, almost as if trying to apologize for everything he had done to you up until this point. 

A particularly loud moan spills from your lips as he latches onto your clit once again, letting his teeth into the mix. It's slightly painful, but only adds to the overwhelming sensation, the elastic band in your core tightening more and more. He smirks and you feel it on your cunt, a filthy look on his face when he realizes you're close, only needing a little push to get you over that delicious edge. 

“Gonna cum for me? Make my face all dirty?” His voice is muffled, but you hear him loud and clear, his nails digging deep as he buries his tongue into your cunt, feeling you twitch and convulse, your orgasm so close you could taste it. 

“Oh god, i’m so close- fuck.”

“Cum all over my face, paint me yours.” he moans, sucking your clit between his wet lips, feeling you tense up, fingers clutching the armrests they were bound to for dear life. 

Your vision whites out for a few moments as you violently cum, thrashing and gasping for air as the pleasure washes over you in stages, Matty working you through it.

It takes a few moments for you to regain your position, Matty’s eyes peering up at you from his position on the ground, his mouth and chin covered in your slick. He licks his lips provocatively, moaning as the remnants of you hits his tongue, sickly sweet.  

He moves to uncuff you, your wrists an angry red from the fight you had put up earlier in the night. His mouth peppers light kisses over the bruises, quote un-quote “kissing it better”. It was endearing, watching him take such good care of you, even if you did insist that you were perfectly fine. 

“See how good it feels to let go?” he asks, trailing his fingers up your bare arm.

You nod, your hair sticking to your forehead as you breathe shallowly, completely exhausted. His expression is one of love, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You’re so pretty like this, all fucked out. Finally I get to see the other perspective.” you chuckle, his words ringing true 

This was the first time in your relationship the roles had been even slightly reversed, him restraining you instead of the other way round. His cocky and confident nature, one that usually crumbled after skilled touches and a few whispered words, stayed present the entire way through, stripping you of the control you were used to. 

You were never opposed to him taking on the more dominant role, it was just that neither the situation, nor the opportunity had ever presented itself, with Matty always being more naturally submissive, dropping to his knees in front of you at the flip of a switch. 

You smile at him fondly, delicate fingers reach out to cup his face softly, mindlessly swiping at the skin

“You’ll be seeing a lot more of it if it feels like that.” he sniggers, his eyes crinkling up as laughter fills your ears.

“Does this mean I get to take pictures too?” he sounds so hopeful, making it impossible to just say ‘no’. You huff instead, a smile spreading onto your face, telling him all he needed to know. 

[daffi-990]

Seven(ish) Sentence Sunday ✍️

Tagged by @diazsdimples @giddyupbuck and @wikiangela. Thank you lovelies mwah 😘

Have a little something from LA Lonely -> this is after the fun and orgasms of Buck and Eddie’s hook up. Still don’t know if I’m going to go full spice 🌶️ or just do a quick little run down of things.

Prev snippet & mood board here

Buck expects him to start pulling his clothes on and to give him the whole “this was fun, but I gotta bounce” speel, but Eddie surprises him by climbing back into bed and nudging Buck to roll onto his side so Eddie can scoot up behind him and hold him.

Buck freezes for a moment because no one does this. They have their fun and then they leave. They don’t stay and they definitely don’t cuddle.

Eddie must feel him go tense because his hold loosens and he moves as if he’s about to pull away. “Is this okay?”

Buck grabs at the arms that are wrapped around him, stopping Eddie’s descent. “Y-yeah. It’s-it’s okay.” He pulls at Eddie’s arms and the man settles back behind him, burrowing his face into the juncture where Buck’s neck meets his shoulder as he shuffles closer.

Soft kisses are pressed into his skin and Buck is helpless but to relax back into Eddie, letting the comfort and warmth of whatever is happening wrap around him.

“Stay?” He whispers, not sure if Eddie can hear him but not being brave enough to say it any louder. He feels like he’s asking too much.

A kiss behind his ear. “Okay.”

No pressure tagging: @hippolotamus @puppyboybuckley @exhuastedpigeon @spotsandsocks @devirnis @wikiangela @hoodie-buck @honestlydarkprincess @homerforsure @monsterrae1 @missmagooglie @mellaithwen @nmcggg @lover-of-mine @ladydorian05 @loserdiaz @bekkachaos @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @weewootruck @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @evanbegins @rewritetheending @rainbow-nerdss @captain-hen @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @glorious-spoon @fortheloveofbuddie @fiona-fififi @disasterbuckdiaz @thewolvesof1998 @try-set-me-on-fire @theotherbuckley @steadfastsaturnsrings @tizniz @athenagranted @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @spagheddiediaz @sunshinediaz and as always, anyone else who wants to share something -> consider this your tag ☺️

[thischerik]

Charles: I’m the only one serving cunt here :(

Erik: Then what am I serving??

Charles: PTSD.

[jewreallythinkthat]

Jewish food 😂😂 more like stolen land and food

Girl (gn) I hope you've never eaten a bagel in your entire life, you wouldn't want those nasty Jewish cooties we garnish them all with 🥱

[verylastdropsofaninkpen]

Jude’s exile from Vivi’s perspective

a short fic I wrote ((((:

word count: 707

Heartbreak is not something I’m experienced in. I doubt most of the folk are. Most of them think we can’t even get our hearts broken, so maybe it came as a surprise when Heather broke mine. 

I can’t tell if I’m less or more experienced in other peoples heartbreaks, but I sure can tell Jude just had one when she shows up at my apartment door with red rimmed eyes and her head held low.

“Jude?” I say, taking in her disheveled appearance. “What happened?” 

My sister stumbles into the apartment behind me, immediately falling into a sitting position on the couch. The despairing look in her eyes is almost haunting.

“He exiled me, Vivi.” Her voice is rough, like she’s been crying or she hasn’t talked in awhile. “He exiled me.”

She sounds weak when she says those words, tired and beaten. Broken.

So I am surprised when she gets up and throws the nearest vase against the wall. She screams like I have never heard her scream before, and then she sits back down on the couch and puts her head in her hands.

I do nothing but watch in shock and confusion.

The days after Jude shows up are only filled with more sadness. Now that there is two of us suffering, it feels like the despair is echoing off walls and won’t stop ringing through the small space of my apartment.

Jude sits on the couch with a bowl of cereal and watches bad quality mortal shows. I make food for her that she barley eats and try to explain to Oak what happened with Jude in the easiest way possible.

 I think it’s hard for him to swallow seeing his brave, knife-wielding, king controlling older sister broken and blue. Sitting on the couch looking mortal, for the first time he’s ever seen.

I think at one point even in my mind Jude had become like the folk. She was clever, and brave, and smart. Now she was heartbroken just like me.

Not that she’d ever admit it. I know she still claims to hate Cardan, but I can see it in the way she talks about him and cries over him at night.

I think she loved him.

Jude is the Queen of Elfhame. It took me awhile to understand that when she told me, and it’s not any easier now that she’s in the living room mindlessly watching television.

But she is. She’s the Queen of Elfhame, and not only is she mortal, but she’s also exiled.

I’m a faerie, but I’m in love with a mortal who doesn’t understand our world or me. I’m heartbroken just the same, yet I feel obligated to fix Jude’s problems along with mine.

I let out a breath and rest my head on my arms. Maybe Jude has it right. An easier life is a better one.

I know I’d rather be watching cartoons than be the Queen of Faerie.

So the days go by full of nothing but sadness and a feeling of waiting. Jude gets dangerous jobs she doesn’t need, and I continue to text Heather nonstop well also taking care of Oak and trying to figure out where Jude is half the time.

When Taryn shows up, I’m not sure I want her here, and I know Jude definitely won’t, but it almost feels like a reprieve from the cycle.

I let her into the house.

When Jude comes home, and they go into their natural course of fighting, once again I am waiting. 

This time, I’m not surprised with what happens. Jude chooses to go. 

I don’t know Jude as the Queen of Faerie, or even Cardan’s seneschal. I don’t know her as the haunted girl who showed up at my door and who sits on the couch for hours.

I know her as my sister, loyal and protective even to Taryn, who has betrayed her more times than I can count. So we send her off with worries and wishes, to pretend to be Taryn and face the man who exiled her.

When me and Taryn go back into the apartment afterwards, it feels like all I’m doing is more waiting. More wondering.

And then Grima Mog knocks on my door.

[thefrsers]

requested by Anon:

HAPPY CASTAVERSARY SAM HEUGHAN AS JAMIE FRASER

(JULY 09.2013-PRESENT)

[theyellowhue]

Phayu got no rizz. Rain did all the work for him.

[boxwinebaddie]

hi uncle nina! it's my birthday today and u don't have but will u pretty plz consider reposting that part of ch6 of rm where raven in on the phone with kenny b4 his hate with jers? i thought it was super cute and i really wanted to read it :3

awwww, happy birthday, darling! i hope it's as lovely as you are!

and i--sigh.

okay.

i hate complicated feelings surrounding chapter six ( aka the introduction to the iconique ravesey hate that i deleted from stress ) because i actually did love it...i just rushed the hell out of it, didn't plan it out very well and it was a mess. it could have been a lot better.

part of why i deleted it was actually because of that ravenstan/kenny phonecall because i felt worried that i revealed too much about how not cool and actually boy-failure-y stan was too early and could have kept the suspense going longer but aaaaaa i just wanted y'all to see how CUTE he was, like??? and how nervous! AAAA!!!

buuut considering the cat has been out of the bag, or rather, the raven has flown the nest for some time now...and it's the beauteous day you were born...i will humbly present you with this b-day present in the form of my incompetent idiot girl ramblings/writings, though, i fear it is not at all as grand the gift of your life is.

so, without further ado darlings, here is the endearing, embarrassing phone call ( it was over discord actually ) that ravenstan had with kenny prior to showing up to blondie's for his little hate-date with jerseykyle. it's a mess and unedited, but regardless, please know that from whatever hurts or harms you, i hope you heal, please rem(ember) to smile, pendejos,

and to now, as always, angels:

please enjoy the very, very...

worst part of your day. ;)

-uncle nina <333

[harmonictechnicality]

*my humble offering to @steddie-week (and the s4 anniversary!) | ao3 link here*

Like most bad ideas, it starts with a question. Eddie is sitting on the ground, messing with the laces on his sneakers. Tying, untying. Mindless shit.

Steve is taking up the whole damn park bench, practically laying on it. Hasn’t said a word in the last ten minutes. 

And Eddie sort of hates the silence. Would like Silence to get decapitated with a chainsaw or something equally gruesome. Needs that particular volume to die the loudest death possible. For the sake of irony, of course.

So Eddie kills it - the silence, that is. The lull taking up all this air between him and Steve Harrington.

He kills it with a question:

“What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done?”

Steve’s head snaps in Eddie’s direction. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

“Fuck, I don’t know, man.” Steve sort of twitches, right between his eyebrows. Shoulders going lopsided, unnaturally angled. Uncomfortable.

Eddie shouldn’t be feeding off this tension so much. Judging by Steve’s body language though, the answer must be a good one. 

He leans forward, almost singing the words. “You sure about that?”

Pushing is fun, darkly playful. Eddie enjoys getting under people’s skin, crawling around till they shrivel up. Is it wrong? Morally unethical? Well… the verdict is still out on that.

Besides, he’s been around Harrington enough lately to know that it doesn’t take much to make him surrender. 

“Fine.” Steve huffs. He lifts himself to a sitting position, knees bobbing up and down. It takes all of Eddie’s leftover energy to not gloat about how easy that was - how quickly Steve caved. Teasing can (will) come later - right now, he wants answers. 

Secrets.

“So, Robin and I went to this party in the city… got pretty shitfaced.”

Eddie throws his head back. “Lame.” 

“Story’s not over.”

Oh? Interesting. Eddie places his hand over his heart, then waves it back at Steve. “My sincere apologies. Continue.”

Steve rolls his eyes, clears his throat (not that he needed to but whatever). “Anyways, she somehow convinced me to go to this tattoo parlor with her. Said her friend worked there and she wanted to visit them, so-”

“Wait wait wait. Don’t tell me this story ends with you getting a butterfly tattoo on your lower back.”

“Will you stop interrupting?”

There’s this serious expression in Steve’s eyes. A combination of dark colors and pure annoyance. Eddie is sane enough to know that annoyance isn’t something he should find endearing, but he does. On Steve.

Just a little.

He shrugs, and Steve continues. “Well, it turns out her friend wasn’t working that night. But the piercing lady was working and was like… superpersuasive.”

“Look, Munson, I don’t remember many details after that. Like I said, totally shitfaced. I just know when Robin and I woke up the next morning, we were so fucking sore. And not like, hangover sore either. We were sore in the same exact place. Right here.”

Steve’s pointer finger is gesturing at his stomach. Right in the center.

No. Absolutely not. Either Steve had severe stomach pains that night, or he’s suggesting that…

No.

“Yeah. There you have it.”  Steve says. Blankly nodding into space. “Stupidest thing I’ve ever done is get a matching belly button piercing with my best friend. Jesus christ, that’s freaky to say out loud.”

The Silence sneaks up on him. Stabs Eddie in the back when he isn’t looking because he’s too busy trying to imagine Steve Harrington with a piercing of any kind. Let alone the most famously slutty kind.

Wrong, so very wrong. He should never let the words slutty and piercing clutter up his imagination while thinking about Steve. The silence has been too long now. Gotta say something, anything.

“Bullshit.” His tone is harsh. Doesn’t mean for it to be. “There’s no fucking way.”

Steve pouts, crinkles his forehead. “I swear on my car - I’m not making this up.”

And see, here’s where the bad idea comes in. This stormcloud of pouting and piercings and chest hair, it’s all becoming dangerous. That urge to provoke is in Eddie’s bloodstream. He has to tip the scale, twist the knife of chaos as far as he can. Self control is out the fucking window.

“Prove it then.”

“Fuck off, Munson.” Steve laughs, maybe scoffs. Either reaction is a little confusing. “Seriously, this isn’t truth or dare.”

The truth is already out though. It’s the dare that Eddie is hungry for. “You can’t just drop a nuclear statement like that and expect me not to ask to see it.”

“Technically, you didn’t ask.”

Eddie clamors over to Steve, all theatrics and fake agony. “Please, Lord Harrington.” He clasps both hands together, rests his cheek on Steve’s knee. Batting his eyelashes till Steve cracks a smile. “Let me see the metal that has punctured thy skin. I beg of thee.”

Steve shoves him off. “You’re such a dork.” It’s lighthearted, barely qualifies as shoving. He’s become way too decent for actual aggression these days. 

A fact Eddie tirelessly clings to when Steve stands up. Lifts the bottom of his shirt and puts it in his fucking mouth.

“Holy shit.” Eddie mutters. No time to consider how pathetic it comes across.

In theory, this should all be stupidly unattractive. The way Steve holds his shirt between his teeth. The way he mumbles incoherent shit between the fabric in his mouth. The way he keeps pointing at it, poking it.

That shiny, teardrop-shaped metal. Just… hanging from Steve’s belly button, swinging slightly with every small movement. Eddie’s eyes start to swing with it, back and forth. Back and forth. Maybe those roadside hypnotists are onto something, because the dumbest piece of jewelry has Eddie captivated.

He could just be captivated by the guy attached to the dumbest piece of jewelry. Piercing.

Jesus Christ. Eddie really didn’t think his life could get any weirder. But here he is. Staring at Steve Harrington’s belly button piercing. Fucking mouth-breathing at the sight of it. Probably seconds away from salivating. 

He really should consider seeing a licensed psychologist. Fix his terminally horned-up brain once and for all.

“It’s…” Eddie swallows, his eyelids feel heavier than his stare. “Not what I expected.”

The fabric drops from Steve’s mouth. Unevenly falls around his waist... hips. “What were you expecting?”

To laugh. To mock. Threaten blackmail for six lifetimes, maybe more.

Instead, Eddie gazing at it the way people gaze through telescopes. He peers lower, tries to see if it’s silver or gold. Hard to tell at sunset. None of Eddie’s typical instincts are sinking in. All he wants is to feel the metal rolling over his tongue or get it trapped between his teeth. See how it tastes mixed up with Steve’s skin.

“Fuck.” Yikes. Eddie didn’t mean to say that out loud. Straightens up from his questionable position, does it so fast that his spine sounds like bubble wrap. “Sorry, sorry.”

What the hell is he apologizing for? Cussing? Having a skeletal structure? Christ almighty, he’s a mess.

Steve’s lips spread into a grin, doesn’t look like his own. Looks more like the kind Eddie might give after pulling off a successful decoy in one of his campaigns. “What’s wrong with your face, man?”

“My face?”

“It’s all…” Steve trails off. Sighs and sits back down on the bench. “Nevermind.”

Eddie reaches up to his cheek, understands exactly what Steve is referring to. He feels feverish to the touch, must be a shade of red that is so deep, it’s noticeable in the darkening sky. 

“Sorry… sorry.” Steve hangs his head. Seems troubled even though Eddie is nailing that particular routine all on his own.

“Think that’s my line.” Eddie jokes. 

“Right.”

Silence is lurking around them yet again. Eddie hates it, but he’s running out of steam here. The embarrassment is on display, his cheeks and neck covered in splotchy red patches. His voice is higher, somehow, as if his vocal chords are shrinking. He’s undergoing a crisis and crush simultaneously and it is not an attractive look for him.

“Just go ahead and get it over with.” Steve says. Interrupts whatever cynicism that’s currently brewing in Eddie's head. 

“Get what over with?”

“The teasing.”

“Oh that’s not… it’s um… you don’t…” Eddie can’t pick an appropriate response. They’re way beyond politeness and niceties. And any bullshit he tries to pull isn't gonna be convincing. So it’s best to stay honest. Embarrassing, but honest. “I think it looks pretty good.”

“You do?” Steve looks softer. 

“Yeah. I mean… Bowie probably has one, and he’s a fucking superstar so. Uh. Yeah.”

“Bowie, huh?”

“I like Bowie.” I like Bowie? What a beefhead answer. Eddie joins Steve on the bench, hopes it distracts from that very un-cool line. 

“I like Bowie too.” Steve messes with his hair a bit. Elbows Eddie in the side and chuckles. “You should get one.”

“A piercing?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t hold your breath, man. I’m not letting that nightmare creator you described anywhere near my lower abdomen. Not gonna happen.”

Steve reaches out, runs his knuckles down the bridge of Eddie’s nose. Stops at the crease of his nostril. “What about one right here?” His voice is even, calm. Too calm for what he’s asking.

His hand is warm, slightly calloused. The only two thoughts Eddie can process without going fully catatonic. Steve’s hand is on his face and it’s warm.

Slightly calloused. 

“Uh. Dunno.” Eddie says. A hoarse whisper in reply. “Probably not.”

Steve scoots in closer, never taking his hand off Eddie’s face. Just moving it around. Exploring. He brushes along to Eddie’s ear this time. Holds the edge of it between his thumb and index finger, looking straight at it. 

“What about right here?” Steve’s eyes stay fixed on Eddie’s ear. Every touch seems natural, just questions that involve connection or something.

Internally, Eddie is dousing flames. Fanning them left and right. Running in circles, fucking clueless on how to properly calm down. Be civil. Be Dude Civil. His breathing is so rapid, he knows it. Can hear it between them, collecting space. Decides it would be best to mimic Steve. Fix his eyes only on him, borrow the stability as much as possible.

“Mmm… maybe.”  Eddie gets stuck on the ‘mmm’ sound. That’s how good it feels having someone touch him like this. Careful, yet heavy in curiosity. Rolling the tip of his earlobe between two fingers, just enough pressure to create heat.��

It warrants that sound.

Steve’s glance drifts before his fingers do. Eyes landing on Eddie’s lips, slight hesitancy before his hand follows. Eddie has to hold his breath now. Minimal oxygen is the only way he’ll survive this moment, which makes no fucking sense, but it does all the same.

“Here would look really good.” Steve slowly traces the curve of Eddie’s bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. The back and forth pattern is disarming. Makes Eddie’s lips part, mouth slightly open.

Just enough to speak. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

If Eddie passes out from lack of oxygen, he’ll regret it. He’ll regret not taking the risk, finishing what Steve has started. Because this surpasses friendly touching. 

This is charged in electric shockwaves.

Eddie dips in, kisses Steve before he can move his hand out of the way. Steve makes a sound, not even a surprised one. It’s sweeter, laced in relief. Eddie pushes in, wants more, whatever he can get. Has his fingers wrapped around Steve’s wrist, the same hand that’s dragging down his face, his neck. Stopping at his chest. 

Every rumor is true, that kissing Steve Harrington is like the gates of heaven opening up. That his tongue could work miracles on amateur lips with a few licks and curls. But no one ever told him about the noises he makes - and those are the best fucking part. Heaving breaths, pleased whines, each one captured with Eddie’s mouth before they get any louder.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe those are just for Eddie. Reserved for kissing him.

Goddamn, he’s delusional. Completely delirious from kissing a dude with a belly button piercing.

There’s a light getting brighter, almost approaching them. Eddie opens his eyes, quickly backs off while Steve does the same. Has to literally detachhimself from wherever his hand was busy wandering all over Steve’s body. 

Headlights pull into the nearby parking lot. Eddie squints to get a better look at the car. It’s Robin and Vickie, showing up fashionably late as always. Sure, he’s grateful that it’s just them, the queerest people in his circle of weirdos. And while they’re reasonable people with shit like this, even they’dbe shocked to know that Eddie and Steve just sucked face for a solid three minutes. Probably best to not mention the gory details, not tonight. Eddie hopes Steve is thinking the same thing.

Both of them stand up, rearrange themselves to look presentable. Less tousled and kiss-bitten. Steve spends a few extra seconds with his hair before turning to Eddie, eyebrows high. Likely a non-verbal ask if his hair is looking as godly as ever.

Of course it does. Looks even better knowing Eddie’s nails were just digging into it.

Steve is a few steps ahead of Eddie, heading for the girls, when Eddie does it again. Kills the silence with a question. 

“Can we… do this again?” It’s edging on desperate, he’s so fucking aware of that. Self control really proving to be a major downfall with him tonight. Should definitely consider taking classes, train his willpower or some shit.

Steve stops walking. He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t even look at Eddie as he speaks. “My place.”

Oh. That’s… wow. Unexpected. Eddie jogs up to Steve, beside him. Way too eager now, sort of buzzing for more information. Hints of excitement or maybe a smile. Anything, really. He’s at that level of weak for this guy.

Steve just keeps walking, but leans in, right next to Eddie’s ear. The same one he messed with earlier. His voice is quiet, but Eddie hears every damn syllable:

“I’ll leave the window unlatched for you.”

For him. 

Maybe Eddie isn’t completely delusional after all.

[seagull-scribbles]

Some requests of the Mutant variety⚠️

Also, with this post we have hit a milestone :)

[oswinsdolma]

i was going to have an early night and then i made a colour coded mindmap debating some basics for where camelot might be, but i haven't read any arthurian literature in ages so it's all based off wikipedia pages, memory and willpower.

[abouttofillhisshoes]

ok so now that I’ve traumatised everyone I’m requesting 22 for mpind matty!!

I’m going to sleep let’s hope I don’t dream of ginger roots shaped like butt plugs because!! that would be horrible!! anyways mwah <3

-legend anon🩵

this is sooo old i hope u still wanna see it!! don't remind me of the figging thing im positively gagging and not in a good way. Anyways onto the actually blurb length blurb

22. "Mark me. Mark me so everyone knows who I belong to."

wc: like 1k?? not much, that's for sure

content warnings: not really smut but also kinda, use of the word juxtaposition (soz guys), marking, exhibitionism, sub!Matty, teasing, jealous girlie, typical MPIND Matty cockiness

You're overreacting, you know you are. It's not that serious.

But it is.

Matty stands there, surrounded by people, all of them listening to him telling a story, hands moving erratically to emphasize his words, pausing to let people laugh at his crude humour every few seconds, most of them too drunk to even realise what he was talking about.

That wouldn't be an issue, not normally. The girl next to him is the source of your feeling of unease, hanging onto his every word and getting a bit closer with every giggle, touching his arm while batting her eyelashes, looking up at him sweetly. Something inside of you stirs at the scene, and your legs carry you across the room in direction of Matty, not stopping to think for just a second.

Pushing your way through the circle of people surrounding him, muttering quiet excuses as you walk up to the center where he stood, wrapping an arm around his waist. Matty looks at you, and you take the opportunity to kiss him, right in front of everyone. The girl that was coming onto him visibly rolls her eyes, taking a small step back and turning her attention to her drink, downing it.

A smug smile spreads onto your face as he finishes up his story rather quickly, leaving out key details as you impatiently tug on his shirt, urging him to come with you. Excusing himself, he follows you keenly, knowing exactly what got you like this.

The sound of his back hitting the closed bathroom door is loud, the sounds of his slightly tipsy giggles only making you more aggressive, feeling him up as his hands settle on your waist.

"What do you think you're doing, letting her touch you like that?" you voice is harsh as your nails ghost over his neck, tracing down the hollow of his throat.

"Jealous, are we? Didnt take you for the possessive type." Matty's grin is teasing, and he purposely throws his head back, exposing more skin to you.

"Don't act coy, its pissing me off."

"I only have eyes for you, you know that." he puntucates his sentence with a hand on your chest, softly touching your tits over your top. His movements are measured, fluid, and driving you insane.

"She doesn't know that." you hiss, mouthing at the skin of his neck, nipping and biting it. Matty lets out a satisfied sigh, leaning into the familiar sensation. Your hands find his hair, tugging it back in that way you know he loves, a soft moan spilling from his lips.

"Show her who I belong to then, mark me yours." the way he speaks is low, challenging, almost mocking you for your reaction. You shoot him an annoyed look, his smirk only spurring you on. Your teeth graze over his throat, leaving deep purple hickeys all over his neck, no area remaining untouched.

His strained sounds as you get more and more aggressive make you smile, barely giving him time to breathe between hot kisses full of teeth and tongue, directly followed by those same lips back on his skin sucking dark marks into the skin.

The bright light of the bathroom perfectly illuminates your work, the contrast of the hickeys against his pale skin make your breathing get a bit more shallow than usual, a change that doesn't go unnoticed by Matty.

"Enjoying the view?" he sniggers, cocking his head at you. The expression on your face is one he knows and loves all too well. One of lust. Passion. Adoration.

"Cocky." you mumble, trailing your fingers over his collarbones, pressing down lightly, making him hiss in pain, a filthy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Wanna show me off then, have them all see what you did to me?"

"Don't act like that's only what I want," you pull at his almost fully unbuttoned shirt, toying with the loose buttons. "We both know how much you love belonging to me." Matty goes quiet, his rapid blinking telling you everything you need to know.

"Hm. I need you to answer me, love." you can practically see him light up at the use of the pet name you use sparsely, his eyes soft as he stares into yours, lips parted slightly.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" You taunt, letting your hands cup his face in a sweet manner, a delicious juxtaposition to the condescending way you're speaks to him. Matty takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling slowly, tongue darting out to wet his lips. It's rare that Matty gets even the smallest bit shy, but fuck, do you relish in it when it happens.

"I want people to see me, see how you own me." he smiles down at you, his hands gripping tighter onto your waist, pressing your body flush against his. The soft rumble of his voice goes straight to your core, and you clear your throat, much to Matty's amusement.

"I'm yours." he adds, a delicate finger running over your bottom lip, smudging your stick lipgloss. His nails are chipped with purple nail polish, matching his belt perfectly. His fashion sense is one of the things you love about him, not matter how 'odd' or 'girly' other people find it.

"You're mine." you speak softly, the kiss following mirrors the tenderness between the two of you, your lips moving against each other with devotion, hungrily drinking in each others reactions as they came, echoing off the tacky blue tiles of the bathroom wall.

Matty is proud, grinning wildly as you exit the bathroom, his shirt completely unbuttoned, his jeans so low waisted in was bordering on obscene. The looks the two of you got were mixed.

Some people raked their eyes up and down his body, gaze flicking between you and him before it finally clicked, their head quickly turning away from your direction.

George sees you as well, groaning as he spots the obviously fresh hickeys from across the kitchen counter, clutching the liquor bottle in his left hand. Handing you a mystery drink, he says a few words into your ear.

"Do you have to do that here? I dont want to think about you and him getting it on." George visibly shudders at the thought, shaking is head as if to get the mental image out of it.

"Soz mate, but this is payback for having to listen to your relentless shagging on Halloween." A party Matty had thrown months back for Halloween had led to George hooking up with a girl from your form, the walls proven paper thin as everyone had heard everything. You cringe at the memory, the sight of a few hickeys paling in comparison the the torture you had to endure that night.

George rolls his eyes just in time for Matty to pull you away, wrapping a tattooed arm around your waist, playing with the mesh of your his top.

"Alright?" he asks, pressing an endearing kiss to the corner of your mouth, the smell of wine filling your senses. You nod, intertwining your fingers as the two of you wade through the crowd, and you spot the girl from earlier.

Your body moves faster than your head, and you grab Matty's lower back, turning him to face you. You can feel the girl's eyes on you as you kissing him messily, taking his lower lip between your teeth as he gasps into your mouth.

Her footsteps are aggressive as she walks away, muttering under her breath. You smile against Matty's lips, content with yourself. Finally, you let go of him, your hands lingering on his chest as you trace what you left behind, a hazy feeling clouding your mind.

"Got what you wanted?" his tone is provoking as brown eyes find yours, face flushing a gentle shade of pink. The music is muted as everything blurs around you, the only thing worthy of your attention being the person standing right in front of you.

"You know 'm not done yet." you lean in to him, bringing your lips up to his ear, your breath hot against his skin.

"Far from it, actually. I'm going to show you just how much you need me, no matter how convincing your little display of confidence might me, hm?" his breath hitches at your words, his eyes darting around the room at the dozens of people surrounding you, blissfully unaware of the filthy things you're painting his fantasies with, scenes playing out behind his eyes like a film.

"Meet me outside in five minutes. Say goodbye to your little friend for me, yeah?" with that, you leave him standing there, breathing unsteady and knees weak, threatening to buckle under him.

It doesn't take long before you have him shoved up against the hood of some random car, the darkness of the moonless night concealing you. Matty's moans are like music to your ears, your lips against his getting harsher as seconds pass, feeling for like hours.

"Please, take me home. I need you so badly, please darling, i'll be so, so good for you-" you cut him off his a finger pressed to his pretty pink lips. He wants you, he yearns for you. The way his back arches forward at even the slightest tells you everything you need to know.

Who are you to deny him?

[bunny-cncunt]

I brought my new pet home today. A sweet soft little bunny boy, needy and trembling. He looked so sweet at the market, trembling in his cage, watching the other pets get fucked and mounted and trying not to show how wet his pussy is.

Virgin. I paid extra for that. There’s nothing like training a toy from scratch, and he’s just perfect. I bring him to the bedroom, showing him his new home. He’s so shy, trying not to show his nervousness. So cute. I undress him gently, telling him pets don’t need clothes in the house. His chest is soft and can’t help but squeeze it. I hear him suppress a little sound, so I squeeze again. When I pinch his nipple he whines out loud and I see him clench his legs together.

Needy. His underwear has on obvious wet patch on it from his dripping hole and he blushes red when I see it. I clip him into his collar and cuffs, matching red leather around his throat wrists and ankles. I clip his chain to his collar and lead him to the bed where I clip him to my headboard. He squirms and I can see him rubbing his thighs together, trying to get some stimulation. When I grab his ankle he keens whining and resisting pull. I chuckle as I quickly over power him, chaining his ankles to the ceiling, his legs spread wide, hips cocked and holes exposed.

I admire his body, pretty flushed cheeks, pouty lips. His soft stomach and thighs. And his cock, hard and twitching, pink and gorgeous, I can’t help but salivate, wanting to take it into my mouth. And then his cunt, dripping wet and clearly needy, but previously untouched. A heady sense of power slips to my head, the knowledge that whatever I did to him would be the first time he experienced it coalescing in my mind as I select a cock and don my harness. Finally I chain his wrists to the headboard, keeping his arms out of the way.

He’s beautiful, spread out for me, completely exposed and at my mercy. I coat my cock in a thick layer of lube before lining it up with his cunt. He starts to whine and squirm, realizing what i intend to do and trying to buck away. I hold his hips steady pressing my weight on him to hold him still before pressing my hips forward. He wails out loud as my cockhead presses into him, stretching him open, as I use my body weight to slowly sink into his hole. He starts to cry when the head finally pops in, but sliding in deeper simply required a slow pressure.

As i nestle my cock against his cervix I take a moment to appreciate the sublime feeling of a virgin cunt. His hole flutters around my cock, stretched to its limits and full. I draw back slowly, savoring his sounds, stopping when my cock, is barely still inside him before thrusting all the way into the hilt in one hard stroke. He couldn’t disguise his moan through his tears, as his cunt begins to take its first fucking. I continue, pulling out nearly all the way before pounding back into him hard. With each thrust, the tears lessen, and the moans grow, and I start to fuck him faster and faster. By the time I get to a comfortably harsh pace he’s not crying at all, but starting to babble out little begging sounds.

Perfect. He is settling into his place, starting to realize that this is what his body was meant for, taking cock, over and over. When he cums, i kiss him deeply, pinching his nipples as a reward. But I don’t stop, instead pounding him into another, when I pull out a vibrator and hold it to his oversensitive cock he starts to cry again. I fuck his hole hard, and long, forcing him from orgasm to orgasm until his pussy isn’t even getting wet anymore, the harsh drag of his dry aching walls making it hard to thrust. When his cock finally stops getting hard, and his sobs have subsided into a half conscious whine I finally pull out.

His formerly tight pink hole now gaping open and flushed red, my cock having pounded him so long his poor cunt couldn’t take it. He looks perfect like this, hole gaping and sore, tongue lolling out of his mouth with half lidded eyes.

I slip a cool glass plug into his worn out cunt, keeping him full and soothing his aching hole, before unchaining him and wrapping him in a soft blanket.

I love breaking in my new toys.

xx

.