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This fic spoke to me in 57 different languages. I've been enlightened 🤒

I will not be discussing how many times I re-read this ✋

little things | ft. felix

summary; a moment of humiliation becomes the gateway to felix’s happy ending. in more ways than one.

rating; e for explicit

pairing; lee felix x reader

author’s note; this was NOT what i planned to publish for my first felix fic (if i ever wrote even one). i would say i actually don’t even know where this came from but that would be lying. you can blame @cbini for her answers on that ask about dick sizing. my brains been fixated on this ever since lol. i also didn’t mention the color of felix’s hair because i couldn’t decide LOL. no word count because again, i wrote this in drafts like a damn maniac.

warnings; misunderstandings, insecurity, newer/budding relationship, felix has a smaller average cock (reader’s into it), borderline cock worship, handjobs, very mild degradation, hints of humiliation kink, a brief penetrative sex scene, hints of implied voice kink, spit, uhm, i think that’s all.

“oh,” you gasp, gaze zeroed in on the appendage between his thighs.

felix is quiet, uncharacteristically still, save for the minute twitching of his thighs. it’s something you likely would have missed if you weren’t staring so intently, but you catch it nonetheless. it prompts you to look up, eyes searching for the familiar honey-brown of felix’s irises. what you find makes your jaw slacken in a mixture of worry and confusion, but it’s already too late.

felix kind of wishes the couch would open up and swallow him whole. at this point, he supposes anything would be preferable to the rotten feeling of shame that bubbles up beneath his epidermis. the heat of his humiliation is searing, rendering him motionless; he thinks he very well may start crying.

“oh, felix,” you coo, taking in the petrified state of his appearance.

his eyes are wet, tears threatening to fall over his lash line. the freckles on his skin, normally golden against apricot flesh, are now tinged russet with the hue of his blush. he’s flushed from the tips of his ears to the dips of his color bones, looking like he’s going to bolt the second you give him any leeway.

“s-sorry,” he stutters, voice cracking.

the fact that his erection hasn’t flagged, not even a little, only fills him with more shame and it feels like his flush is burning him alive. he wishes he could pretend that he’s still hard solely because you’re so close, literally a hands length away, but he knows that’s not the only reason. desire and embarrassment burn white hot in his belly, spreading like wildfire along his limbs when your palms meet the skin of his thighs, rubbing up and down in a soothing manner.

“‘lix, no. there’s nothing to be sorry for!”

he shrugs, tucking his chin into his shoulder. “i know it’s small,” he whispers, but you hear it loud and clear.

your hands still, fingers wrapping around his boney knees. small? your eyes find his cock once again and you watch the way it twitches and bobs under your gaze. when you said ‘oh,’ you’d meant it adoringly; the idea of his size being inadequate had never even crossed your mind. though in hindsight, you probably should have been more intentional — more aware — about your reaction. still, there’s nothing small about his dick. felix may not be hung like a horse, but he’s pretty and pleasantly sized; there’s enough of him to fill your cunt or your mouth yet not so much that your insides will ache uncomfortably when it’s over.

“what? hey, no! no, there’s nothing small about you,” you tell him, furrowing your eyebrows. “it’s good, ‘lix, trust me. it’s so good.”

he’d tell you to quit lying, but your face shows no signs of deceit. he’d also tell you to stop staring, that it’s making him wane, but it’s not and he can’t. clearly — judging by how his dick dribbles more precum with every passing moment — his body is enjoying the attention (read: embarrassment) that comes from being on display even if his brain is screaming at him.

“good?” he parrots in question, trying not to squirm as your palm slides up his thigh again.

“mhm,” you hum, licking over your bottom lip. “you’re perfect. can i touch you? please, ‘lix?”

“fuck,” he whimpers with a nod, hips bucking when your hand finally wraps around his cock.

you hum again, committing the delicate weight and feel of it against your palm to memory. you touch him brazenly, fist a little looser than he’d like, though he makes no move to ask you to tighten it. when you do close your fist around it and still your hand, not too much more than the head peaks out and you sigh, sliding your fist upward with a twist. felix pants harshly nd his cock dribbles some more, beads of precum pooling inside the slit of his cock head and daring to run over. objectively, the sight is utterly delectable; you’re practically purring.

“gorgeous,” you croon, not letting up for a single moment as you move to straddle his thighs. “such a cute, little cock you have, felix; it’s so pretty. i want it in my mouth.”

the whine that escapes him is delicious, making wetness seep into the crotch of your panties. it’s a heady rush to hear that accent-rich baritone of his go damn near breathy — makes you wanna eat him up. you take your eyes off his cock in order to watch his face, noting how his pupils have swallowed up the iris; his eyes are nothing but bottomless pits when he gazes back.

“c-can’t — shit — can’t say things like that,” he grits, tone laden with arousal. he seems to come back to himself a little bit just then, lithe thighs flexing and hands curling around your hips to pull you even closer. “i’ll go insane.”

“no? you don’t want me to say nice things?” you tease, letting felix urge you further up his lap. inside your jeans, your panties stick to the swollen folds of your pussy, drenched with the arousal that felix’s debauched appearance drags out of you.

“i shouldn’t tell you how pretty your dick is? not how badly i want it inside my cunt? maybe even my ass?”

his jaw ticks, teeth grinding together with the desire to divest you of all layers so that he’s able to do just that. he’s a sucker for a pretty girl though, especially when said pretty girl is sat atop him, all warm and in charge with her soft, little hand wrapped around him, gripping tight and stroking him perfectly to the edge of oblivion. he thinks about telling you to stop, that he’d much rather cum inside you — in any hole you’re willing to offer him. he doesn’t get a chance to however, not when you’re leaning forward, lips brushing against his ear as you speak.

“keep looking at me,” you whisper, sultry voice sending shivers down felix’s spine.

his attention is rapt, plump lips split around the heaviness of his breath. it’s addictive — the way he looks at you — and though you know you’re not a true dominant, felix makes it very hard to not want to reduce him to a blubbering, submissive mess. instead, the movement of your fist pauses, causing felix to sink his teeth into his bottom lip to prevent himself from whining pathetically and begging for you to continue. he’s made the right choice though, because what he gets is arguably so much better.

you’re still looking at him when your lips pucker, face angled downward just enough for felix to speculate what’s going to happen. his suspicions are confirmed when he watches you push spit past the seam of your lips, letting it drip until it meets his cock head, mixing with his precum and spilling down his shaft into the loosened circle of your fist. you don’t even bother to wipe your face when the string between his dick and your mouth snaps, sticking to your bottom lip and chin. all felix can do is push his hips forward with a deep moan, dick kicking valiantly, clueing you in on how close he is to coming.

you let your thumb circle the tip, smearing your spit around before closing your fist tightly once more. the slide is wetter when you move your arm again, pulling pleas and sanity from felix’s body with each and every tug. he’s surely leaving crescent shaped dents in your hips with his fingernails how hard his hands are gripping you, but the slight pain only makes your cunt throb.

“fuck, fuck,” he drawls, eyes dropping to watch how his length disappears and reappears within your hand. “so damn wet, fuck.”

you grin, nodding. “you’re so drippy, ‘lix,” you coo, obviously enjoying his demise, “so wet and messy.”

“i know,” he whines, voice tight. “it’s embarrassing.”

“wanna know a secret, ‘lix?”

“y-yeah, yeah, tell me. fuck, please.” you’re suddenly in his space again, face so close that he finds himself slightly distracted by the feel of your tits against his chest, even through all the layers, and the warmth of your breath against his face.

“my pussy is wetter,” you admit, wanting to see him fall over that metaphorical edge.

immediately felix’s eyes are rolling into the back of his head, lips parted to release the throatiest whine of your name that you’ve ever heard. his cock throbs in your grip, spurting two long ropes of cum before releasing a third that fountains over your hand rather than shooting into the air. you continue tugging at his shaft until he’s full body twitching against the cushions, whimpers coming out raspy.

“s-sensitive,” he hisses, tearing a hand away from your hip to wrap around your wrist instead, encouraging you to release his softening cock.

his hair is matted in some areas and in overall disarray, strands sticking in this direction and that. felix’s skin is still flushed deeply, but it’s from the flares of desire rather than the heat of shame that had held him in a chokehold at the start of this. he’s pretty; pretty when he wakes, pretty when he smiles, pretty when he comes. you feel like you’ve won lottery just because you get to look at him, let alone touch him. he’s looking at you now, red and pinks in his cheeks, mouth pursing and relaxing like he has something to say but can’t bring himself to voice it.

“what?” you laugh, ignoring the way his cum is slowly turning cool and tacky against your skin.

“can, can i—,” he pauses, bubblegum tongue snaking out to wet his lip. he’s trying his best to not let humiliation creep in again, this time because of the fact that his cock is still out on display, only now it’s flaccid and covered in his own mess.

“hm?” you encourage, a sweet smile on your lips.

“can i kiss you?”

you balk, erupting into a fit of laughter at the absurdity of the situation. felix stiffens beneath you, eyes wide as saucers and scared that he’s misread something. you notice immediately, your own eyes widening as your shake your head rapidly.

“shit! i’m sorry!” you squeak, thumping your head against his shoulder. “nothing’s wrong, lixxie, you can relax.”

the tension bleeds from his frame slowly and you rumble happily, tucking your face more comfortable into the crux of his shoulder and neck. he’s still stiff, but isn’t bowed so tight that you’re afraid he’ll hurt himself. you press a kiss to the clammy flesh of felix’s neck, reaching up with your clean hand to twirl the ends of his hand around your fingers. his skin tastes like salt and tang, smelling like the beach and a hint of spice. it’s something that’s simply him but also alluring and your clit twitches, adamantly reminding you that you’re also sitting in a pond made up of your wetness.

“i really, really like you, felix,” you tell him, picking your head up from his shoulder, “and i laughed because i’ve seen your dick, held it in my hand and even made you come,” you giggle fondly, breathing in deep. “and you — god, ‘lix, you’re so sweet — you’re asking if you can kiss me. i’ve watched you come, admitted i want you inside me, and you’re still unsure whether it’s okay to put your tongue in mouth.”

he laughs with you then, fully relaxing. “well, when you put it like that, it does seem kind of silly,” he admits, finally feeling courageous enough to try his hand at taking charge. “but i like you a lot, too, and your consent is important to me, always.”

he pauses in his speech to worry his bottom lip between his teeth as he contemplates his next few words. you’re looking at him fondly, like he’s something to be admired, like you could be in love with him — you know, when there’s been enough time, of course. it’s that look and your endless patience that give him the courage to continue.

“so yeah, i asked if i could kiss you,” he shrugs, palms sliding flat around your waist as he speaks, “but i plan to do so much more than that if you let me.”

heat balloons in your gut at his words, your walls clenching around nothing. you can only nod, desperation and want rendering you mute save for a single, pitchy whimper that leaves your throat at the prospect of what may come. you want him to kiss you, needed his lips like yesterday, but you also meant it when you said you wanted him inside. you need that pretty, perfect cock inside every single one of your holes, maybe even more than you need air.

“please,” you rasp, not caring that you’re getting his cum on his shirt and the couch when you let that hand grip at his clothing. “please.”

felix smiles, dazzling and sexy, gone from a pretty baby boy to oozing sex appeal and dominance in two seconds flat.

“you don’t have to beg, baby,” he croons, leaning forward to brush his plush mouth against yours teasingly. “i’ll give you everything you need.”

and when you’re pinned under him sometime later, legs wrapped tightly around his slim waist as he slides his cock between the swollen folds of your pussy, you can’t help the excitement that builds and builds within you. your head is pleasantly fuzzy still from the orgasm he gave you moments ago, his soft lips and eager tongue having spent what felt like hours working at your clit. despite the hazy fog of satiation, you still register the feeling of felix’s cock prodding gently at your entrance, relishing in the delicate drag of it again your walls, spreading you open deliciously. there’s no pain with felix; no discomfort, no burning, and no stinging ache, only the overwhelming pleasure of being comfortable full. the snug press of him against your inner most parts has your clit thumping heavily, mind melting.

“oh, fuuuck,” you sigh, arching your back the slightest bit to brush your pebbled nipples against felix’s chest. “felix.”

“yeah? is it good?” he questions in a tone that belies cockiness rather than insecurity. he holds himself up by his forearms on either side of your head, pulling out slow and even before driving his cock back in again.

“yes,” you gasp, whiney and panting, squeezing at his shoulders. “told you,” you breathe, squeezing his cock with your silken cunt just because you can, “it’s perfect.”

thank god for the little things.

© hyungszn 2023; please do not copy, steal, repost, modify, translate, or recommend on any other platform without my permission!

OSCAR ISAAC FEAR OF GOD | 2024

My sibling got me a stuffedy and he’s so cute

He’s a mushroom, and then…

He’s a cowboy.

I love my new friend. I will also be taking name suggestions, any way you want, even asks.

this will always be insane

Warmth

THIS. THIS BIT. I DIED. PEOPLE DIED.

MINGYU LALALI, 2024

THE NOISE I MADE WHEN I SAW THIS

You know? I don't want to sound like a bitch...but WHAT WAS THE REASON??? CAN SOMEONE EXPLAIN TO ME? DAMN IT, KIM MINGYU, I CAN'T ANYMORE

hobi waist appreciation 🔥😵‍💫🔥

LESBIAN WOLRSTARRERHHH RAHHHHHHH

BUDDIE + text posts (insp)

THIS PHOTO SCREAMS “DADDY'S HOME!!”

Sevika with a slit dress

CRUEL INTENTIONS - part one: genesis

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: steddie x innocent/shy!reader

summary: you're a new student at All Saints Catholic Academy and Steve and Eddie have every intention to sink their teeth into you.

contains: enemies to lovers between steddie, blasphemy/religious talk, drug and alcohol use, SMUT - 18+, fingering, mentions of smoking, corruption kink, blood kink, mentions of a knife kink, very mild violence, subtle bullying, NON-CON/DUB-CON, and steddie being pervs <3

word count: 7.1k

WARNING: this fic contains dark themes including - NON-CON/DUB-CON,  manipulation, coercion, and corruption. Again, THIS IS A DARK FIC, do not read it if you’re not comfortable with it!

| next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

PREFACE…

“Here at All Saints Academy, we aim to ensure staff will equip students with everything needed to succeed physically and spiritually.”

Your mother and father are beaming on each side of you as you nod to the lady’s words, smiling in agreement. Mom and Dad have been busy with business, and they were starting to get weary about how much time you spend home alone, so they enrolled you in the best catholic boarding school money could buy.

It’s a beautiful campus with big Romanesque architecture-styled buildings. The halls are vast and well-lit with high-hung candle chandeliers. You have yet to visit the dorms, but from the pictures, you were able to tell they’re nothing short of spectacular. You don’t have much to complain about other than the absence of your parents.

“Based on your records here, I can tell you’re a bright student,” She smiles at you, folding her hands atop her desk, “We’re so glad to have you here, young lady.”

You preen under her praise; cheeks warm when your mom proudly squeezes your knee as you thank her. There’s not much left that the lady goes over; she mostly just lets your parents know how and when it’s appropriate to call to check on you or visit— and before you know it, you’re hugging your parents goodbye and waving from the main buildings front steps as they drive off. You’re clutching the folder and pamphlet to your chest, nerves racing through your body now that you’re officially on your own.

A new chapter, and you couldn’t be more excited to start it.

Eddie’s late to his last class of the day.

He’s late, and he’s praying that he doesn’t reek of weed because he’s on his last strike with this teacher, and he really can’t afford to get another call back home. It’s Eddie’s luck that the classroom has a door in the back, so he’s able to slip in quietly.

And Eddie’s not exactly thinking when he slides into the nearest seat, but he thinks maybe the universe is rooting for him because next to him is the prettiest girl he thinks he’s ever seen.

You’re wide-eyed from shock, given Eddie’s just casually slid into the seat next to you, and Eddie cracks a pearly white grin. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he says with a slight undertone of sarcasm, “Is this seat taken?” Eddie asks.

You don’t even attempt to open your mouth in response; you just shake your head no, and Eddie’s grin widens. He holds a hand out for you to shake and introduces himself, “Eddie Munson. And you are?”

You’re shy, and your voice is sweet, but Eddie can hear you clearly as day when you say your name, gently shaking his hand with a visible blush dancing in your eyes. Eddie’s chest stirs when your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you shy away from his gaze. He smiles, caressing your warm knuckles as he responds, “Pretty name for an even prettier girl.” 

You smile, glancing at him with burning cheeks, “Thank you… I, um, I like your hair.”

Eddie laughs at that. He tries not to be too loud to draw any attention, but you’re the cutest thing, and you’re looking at his hair like you want to sit down and spend hours practicing different plait patterns. “Thank you,” he grins. Eddie’s eyes fall to your chest, and he snickers to himself before reaching forward, gently picking up the shiny pendants hanging from the silver chain on your neck. A cross and a purity ring. Fucking ace.

Eddie hums, twirling the purity ring between his fingers, “This is nice. Would you like to trade?”

Your face twists in confusion, “Trade?”

“Yeah, I’ll give you my hair for this cute little chain.” He gently tugs on the pendant, and you giggle. It’s a saccharine sound. Fucking beautiful, absolutely the best thing Eddie’s ever heard since his first listen to his first Metallica record, and Eddie thinks he could dedicate his life to pulling that sound from you. Thinks he wants to pull other noises from you too, ones that’ll make you preen with embarrassment and beg him to stop teasing— because your knees are brushing against Eddie’s thigh, and Eddie doesn’t even bother being slick about the way his gaze drops to your thighs, praying for your school skirt to ride up higher.

Eddie’s limbs have a mind of their own apparently, because his knuckles brush against your nylon-covered knee as you open your mouth to respond, but fucking Mrs. Lockwood steps up to you both with a clear of her throat. You jump, your hands settling in your lap as you turn to the teacher, “Munson. I didn’t see you walk in today; when did you arrive?”

You distract yourself with writing notes like a fucking scolded puppy, and Eddie almost ignores Mrs. Lockwood so he can just watch you in awe, but she clears her throat again, and Eddie shrugs, “Been here since the start of the period, miss.” Eddie responds.

Mrs. Lockwood hums with a tilt of her head, “I took attendance already, and you didn’t answer.”

Eddie shrugs again, glancing at you as you practically cower from the class's attention that’s now on you both, “I didn’t hear you say my name.”

And even though Mrs. Lockwood knows Eddie’s nothing but a bullshit liar, she also knows that Eddie can argue like he’s getting fucking paid for it, so— “Get your work done, please.”

And Eddie shoots a wink your way when the teacher turns away, but you’re too focused on your notebook, and Eddie thinks— Jesus Christ, he can’t wait to break you.

Classes end sooner than you know, and you find yourself in the dormitories. So far, you seem to like it here— the teachers are friendly, the workload isn’t too bad, and the students seem to keep mind to their studies— there was even one kid, Eddie, who made you feel nice and welcomed and you appreciated that more than you could express.

Still, even though your day was lovely, you’re exhausted from new faces and sceneries, and your eyes are begging for a moment to relax with a quick nap. With your mind so caught up on taking a nap, you forget to knock on the door to your dorm before you enter, twisting the doorknob and pushing the door wide open. 

You regret your mistake immediately.

“Oh my god!”

“Oh, goodness! I’m so sorry!” You turn and cover your eyes, shoulders tense as you spew out a slew of apologies to your roommate and the man she’d been busy with. How great! Your first day, and you’re already being a rude roommate. “I’m sorry, I should’ve knocked! I can just— I’ll just.” You move to blindly reach for the doorknob to make your exit, but your roommate speaks up before you can escape, “No! It’s fine, we— stop it— He was just leaving anyway.”

“I wasn’t actually—” “Steve.”

“Okay! Okay.”

You stay turned around with your back to the couple, embarrassment broiling in your veins as you try to ignore the rustling of clothes and sheets and their hushed whispers. “I’ll see you tonight, okay?” The man— Steve, you gather— whispers. You hear a wet smooching noise and a grumble from the girl to, ‘stop being gross.’ and your cheeks burn. The man huffs out a laugh, and you only turn when you can feel his presence behind you since you’re blocking the doorway. He’s tall, broad shoulders with a handsome face, and brown eyes to match his fluffy brown hair. His lips spread into a smirk, eyes dancing across your face as he winks, reaching around you to grasp the door handle, “Keep an eye on this one for me, okay?”

You don’t mean to, but with the handsome man so close to you as he shuffles to move past you, warm body brushing against yours, you can’t help but blush as you nod. He huffs a small laugh before bidding his last farewell to your roommate and disappearing into the hallway. You’re unsure how he can easily slip in and out of the girl's dormitory, but you don’t ask when your roommate clears her throat, “Sorry about that.” She mumbles, “I’ll be sure to be more… mindful in the future.”

You nod with a welcoming smile, stepping further into the room as she rises to her feet and extends a hand for you to shake, “I’m Nancy, by the way.”

When Nancy asked you if you were busy tonight, you weren’t under the impression that the night's final destination would be a party. You surely weren’t under the impression that it would be as big as a party as this one— it’s something you’ve only seen in movies… well, only the few movies you’ve been allowed to watch.

It looked somewhat fun in the movies, but this? This was anything but fun. It was a mistake tagging along with Nancy tonight.

You’ve only just finished your first day at All Saints, and you’re already surrounding yourself with terrible things, things your parents have warned you time and time again to avoid— drugs, alcohol, sex, etc.

It’s everywhere: your classmates are drunk and cheering on as the rugby team chug beers, Tommy and Carol have been making out on the living room couch for nearly an hour, and Nancy— god, you don’t even know where she is, and you’re overwhelmed and scared, and you wish you had stayed in your dorm when Nancy asked what you were doing tonight.

You didn’t want to seem rude, and Nancy is so nice despite Carol evidently hating your guts, and you would hate to throw it back in her face. And sure, maybe she’s only being nice because you’re her roommate, but you still feel as if it’s a little obligatory to accept whatever plans she throws your way.

You’re still in your school uniform, making you feel out of place since everyone here seems to be straight out of a magazine, revealing dresses and neatly done hair. You’ve been glued to the living room wall since you arrived, too scared to do anything but blink and stare in shock. It’s when things start getting rowdy with the rugby team that you decide to peel yourself from the wall, desperate for some sense of reprieve from the absolute zoo you’ve been thrown into, but a body slides up beside you and catches your attention.

A handsome man, tall with dirty blond curly locks that dust across his broad shoulders. His eyes are dark with his gaze, but you can see the ice-cold blue peeking through when a light passes. “You’re too pretty to be hiding in the shadows, you know?”

It’s strong and direct and should make your nose scrunch up in distaste, but with the drawl of his voice and the way he’s leaning a solid hand onto the wall, it makes your cheeks warm. He drops the hand that had been on the wall and reaches out, offering a handshake, “Billy.” He introduces himself.

You only blink at him, glancing at his hand, and he chuckles, a dashing white smile flashing on his face. “Okay. Well, can I offer you a drink? Haven’t seen you with a cup all night.” He points out. You’re not sure why, but the comment makes your stomach twist. He raises a seemingly kind eyebrow, and you shake your head, shying away and pressing further against the wall, “I-I don’t really drink.” You respond.

Billy snickers, head tipping to the side with an unamused look, “Have you ever had a drink?” He questions. Your face warms at that, embarrassed by the truth when you shake your head, “No…” You mumble. The man laughs again, hearty and clean, before he shrugs. His other hand, the hand that’s been wrapped around a can, reaches out between you both, and his eyes glisten when he gazes at you, “Try some of mine?”

You quickly shake your head, curling your fingers into your palms, “No, thank you, I think I’m gonna—” “Come on. It’s not like I’m trying to poison you; just take a sip.”

And well… he’s right, right? He isn’t trying to poison you. He’s being kind, offering you his drink, and you’re being rude and acting like he just asked you to kill your childhood dog. Your shoulders drop, physically giving in as you reach forward, but Billy pulls the can away with a smirk. You’re confused as you gaze up at him, eyebrows furrowed when he steps closer.

He slinks his fingers beneath your chin, rough fingertips sending shivers up your spine as he roughly tells you to “Open up.”

You’re against the wall with nowhere to go, so you obey his orders, opening your mouth, eyes squeezed shut as you try to ignore his chuckles. Your nails are cutting into your skin at this point, stinging and sure to leave a mark as you await the drink on your tongue. You nearly choke when he pours the drink right onto your throat— no, you do choke. You fidget beneath him, wriggling and accidentally getting some of the drink on your chin, and Billy hums like he’s enjoying the sight. “Keep going, doll, you’re doing fuckin’ great.” He chuckles.

You whine, reaching up to press your hands against his chest as the drink threatens to overflow your mouth. But Billy doesn’t stop. He keeps going until the drink is spilling over the sides of your mouth, and you have no choice but to shove at him, choking on the bitter liquor as he chuckles— he’s so strong he doesn’t even budge. But then suddenly, someone is grabbing the boy and tearing him off of you with a loud curse. They’re arguing, that much you can tell, but your head is foggy as you try and catch your breath.

The front of your shirt is damp with the bitter-tasting drink, and you frown, angrily wiping at your mouth as you look at the two men arguing. “The fuck is your problem, man?” It’s Steve, Nancy’s boyfriend. You had all arrived together, but Steve and Nancy seemed to be in the middle of some quarrel, given the way they had immediately parted ways once they stepped into the party.

Your chest tightens, knowing he had come to practically save you, watching as he furiously shoves at the other boy. “Relax, Harrington, we’re just having fun,” Billy snickers before looking at you with a smirk, “Right, Cherry? We were having fun.” And it’s then that you catch the group of people across the room laughing and snickering from the scene you’d just caused. It was planned.

You catch Carol and Tommy giggling, and then you see Nancy locking eyes as she sends you an apologetic look. With a frown on your face and tears brewing in your eyes, you flee the scene, heart racing and embarrassment flooding your body and soul, ignoring Steve as he calls your name.

The kitchen is crowded but less than the living room, and you’re just glad to be in a well-lit room now with zero eyes on you and the promise of a glass of water somewhere.

You’re so caught up spiraling within yourself that you don’t even realize you’ve stopped right in front of your newest classmate friend— “I did not expect to see you here, lamb.”

You turn at the familiar voice, your body immediately relaxing when you meet the gaze of pretty brown eyes. You blink, tilting your head in confusion once you realize what Eddie called you, “Lamb?”

Eddie, perched up on the kitchen counter, taps the heel of his shoe against the wooden cabinet, “You’re cute like one. Lost, too.”

“I’m not lost,” you respond, shying away when Eddie raises an eyebrow, “M’just… overwhelmed. Never been to a party before, and that Billy guy is so… mean.” You frown.

Eddie hums, reaching out and gently tugging on your necklace. You’re not sure why, but Eddie seems to have a weird fascination with it. “Mm. What are you doing here? Little lamb like you should be at the dorms, studying or sleeping like a good girl, hm? Wouldn’t have run into Billy if you were being good.” He says. You frown at his words, guilt swirling in your chest from the reality that you definitely should not be here. Nothing good comes out of places like this; your parents had always warned you to avoid it, yet here you are. Your first night, and you’re already disobeying your parent's wishes.

“Uh, my roommate, Nancy, invited me.” You answer. Eddie’s eyes glimmer with something you can’t quite put your finger on, but before you can even ask, he’s sitting up straight and hopping down from the counter, “Notice you’ve got empty hands. Want a drink?”

You blink, subconsciously twirling your necklace between your fingers as you respond, “Um— a water, please?” Eddie’s lips twitch into a smile, and he nods, “One water coming right up.” He winks. You don’t know why, but the gesture makes your chest flutter. You're thankful that Eddie seems to have a kind heart.

Eddie disappears momentarily to get your water, but he’s quick about it and by your side in no time. Before you can thank him for grabbing you a drink, someone else is sliding into the frame with a gentle hand pressing to your lower back, a familiar soft yet deep voice filling your ears, “Hey, are you alright?”

Steve. You blink up at the boy, shying beneath his gaze in embarrassment from how he’d seen you not too long ago. “Uh, y-yeah. I’m okay.” You answer. Steve glares at Eddie, who’s silently watching as Steve reaches forward and takes the untouched cup of water from you. “Is he bothering you?” Steve doesn’t refer to Eddie by name, but you know he’s talking about the other boy. 

You immediately shake your head no, “No, I—” “Does it look like she’s having a bad time, Steve?”

The attention is now on Eddie as he calmly gazes at Steve, waiting for an answer. Steve’s eyes narrow, fingers subconsciously tightening around the red solo cup, “Fuck off, Munson. I know what you do to girls at these parties.” Steve says with a raise of the cup. You don’t know what Steve is talking about, but you don’t get a chance to ask because Eddie tilts his head with a grin and asks, “Yeah? What’s that?”

Steve grimaces, like Eddie’s the most repulsive thing he’s ever come across, and you frown, sad to see that your new friends seem to not be getting along. Steve places your cup of water on the kitchen island, “You’re fucking sick in the head. I won’t let you do your weird satanic bullshit on Nancy’s friend.”

Without a moment's pause, Eddie responds, crossing his arms over his chest with a tilt of his head, “Mm. Nancy’s friend or your eye candy?

And then Steve punches Eddie square in the jaw.

It happens quicker than you can comprehend, and you stand there like a deer in headlights when Tommy appears from nowhere to pull Steve off of Eddie. Eddie’s grinning, bloody, and tauntingly with a split lip, and Steve is glaring with clenched fists as Tommy backs him up to the other side of the room, mumbling stuff about Steve needing to keep his spot as captain on the rugby team— “He’s not worth it, man.”

Instinctively, as you see your new friend has gotten hurt, you step forward to assess the damage, frowning at the open wound as Steve calls out a harsh remark. You figure you should take Eddie somewhere that Steve isn’t, so you gently tug on him, but Eddie only chuckles at Steve’s words, stumbling in a daze as you drag him away from the scene.

You don’t know where you’re going, but Eddie seems to realize your intentions when you open the third door to an occupied bedroom, “Restrooms down there, lamb.” He gestures down the hallway. Surely enough, the last room in the hallway is the restroom, and when you step in with Eddie behind you, you’re too busy searching for a first aid kit to hear the undeniable click! of the lock to the door, sealing you to your fate.

Eddie, claiming he was tired of standing, made himself comfortable on the floor, ushering you down to join him with the dusty, old first aid kit you’d found. You don’t mind it, but having your knees scuffed up by the cold, hard ground of the restroom floor makes you squirm until Eddie hums, suppressing a wince when you dab an alcohol wipe at his split lip.

“What’s wrong, peach?” He asks.

You huff, shifting in your spot, “Floors hard.” You grumble, focused on your task. Eddie frowns then, and you shake your head quickly, “It’s okay th— oh!” To your surprise, Eddie’s hands are stern on your hips as they drag you forward onto his lap, making sure your thighs bracket his hips, alleviating the pressure from your knees.

It’s nerve-wracking being this close to Eddie; you’re practically inhaling him, and you can feel something hard forming against your thigh. You try your best to ignore the unfamiliar object as you dress Eddie’s wound. You clear your throat, “You and Steve know each other?” You ask.

Eddie hums, warm hands settling on your bare thighs, fingertips digging into your soft skin. “You could say that.” He responds. You frown, tossing the bloody wipes to the side once you finish cleaning his lip. “Eddie?”

“Hm?”

You fidget in your spot, and Eddie groans, but you’re unsure why. “What did… what was Steve talking about? About you with girls and parties?” You ask. Eddie’s eyes are sharp as he gazes at you, and you find yourself shying away from him, subconsciously reaching up to fiddle with your necklace. “He said you do weird… satanic things.” You whisper.

Eddie, ever the handsome man he is, cracks a grin that sends shivers down your spine. It’s alarming, and you find yourself squirming to create distance between you, but Eddie’s hands slink under your skirt, fingertips harshly digging into your skin to drag you back over his crotch. Your breath hitches, heart racing in your chest from the sudden proximity.

Eddie’s voice is a low drawl when he responds, “Does that scare you, lamb?”

You can barely look Eddie in the eye, your throat suddenly feeling tight as Eddie’s hands explore the skin of your thighs. You want to pull away; you can hardly stop yourself from glancing at the door, but Eddie’s gazing at you with this gaze— daring you to try.

You shake your head no, eyes burning with the threat of tears. “Sure about that?” Eddie asks. Eddie shifts below you, and your fingers curl into the palm of your hand, widely blinking at him as you nod. The rough pad of Eddie’s thumb drags across the waistband of your panties, and you whimper, dropping your hands to wrap around Eddie’s decorated wrists and weakly tugging.

“I think I should go, Eddie. N-Nancy’s probably looking for me.” It’s a poor excuse, and Eddie doesn’t even try to act like it isn’t when he quickly responds, “Nancy’s off sucking face with her boyfriend, lamb. I can guarantee you she’s not looking for you.”

Eddie’s sharp tone and mean words pull your lips into a frown, but Eddie doesn’t pay any mind as he leisurely teases his fingertips on the waistband of your panties, tilting his head with a menacing gaze, “It’s a sin to lie, sweet lamb.”

Your frown deepens, hips squirming when Eddie presses a thumb into the middle of your lower pelvis, “I didn’t—” Eddie cuts you off with a raise of his eyebrow, and you slump into yourself. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to lie, but…”

You gasp when Eddie hooks his thumb in the side of your panties, his other arm tightening around your waist when you shakily breathe and try to move away. “But you did. And now you owe me. Not only for saving you out there but also for lying to me.”

Your face twists in confusion, voice weak and small as you ask, “Saving me?”

Eddie doesn’t bother answering you, doesn’t bother saying anything really, because he takes the moment of your confusion to slip his thumb beneath the thin cotton between your thighs, swiftly seeking out the bundle of nerves between your lips. You jump with a squeal, pressing your palms into Eddie’s chest, “I, wait—” “Shh, shh, shh. I’m gonna make you feel good, baby.” Eddie hums.

You’re shaking in his hold, whimpering and fighting against him, but Eddie’s much stronger than you, so it’s useless trying to get out of his hold. “I wanna go home, Eddie.” You softly sob. Eddie hums, dragging you closer and nuzzling into your neck, his nose dusting across your chin and breathing in deep, “I’ll take you home, sweet lamb,” he lowly says, flicking your bud beneath his finger, “I’ll take you home right after this, yeah?”

You’re huffing in uneven breaths, on the precipice of sheer panic, but Eddie’s words hold a promise, and even if you’ve only known the man for less than a day, you somehow find yourself trusting his word. Brave through this, and Eddie will safely take you home. Right?

You sniffle, knuckles curling into Eddie’s shirt as he drags his thumb lower to your entrance. It’s slick there; it happens every now and then, this weird sensation that makes your insides curl. You’re not supposed to act on it; it’s just your body tempting you to sin, but the way Eddie dips into your hole and drags the sticky substance up to your tight nerves makes your toes curl, and your eyes roll.

“O-oh!” Your thighs quake, and Eddie grins against your skin, softly chuckling when your hips jolt into his touch. “That feel good? Has anyone ever touched you like this?” He asks, his voice seeping into your ear and down to your core. You whimper, knuckles prominent and aching from how hard you’re clenching a fist. You can’t even bring yourself to answer him, hardly shaking your head with a wet sob as he pinches the taut nerves.

Your head is spinning, lungs full with the smell of Eddie, mind whirling with his words, limbs weak with overwhelming sensation. “No?” Eddie muses, “No one’s ever touched this cute little pussy? Such a shame. You make the cutest noises when I fuck you like this.”

Eddie’s words are so lewd. So perverted and raunchy that it causes your entire body to burst into flames, subconsciously hiding your face in Eddie’s neck. Your fingers accidentally curl into the ends of Eddie’s hair, and he groans, chest vibrating against yours as he teases one finger in and out of your entrance. 

“I-I, Eddie, it feels…” “What? Feels good?”

You don’t want to say yes. Don’t want to admit that this sinful and greedy act is making your stomach twist and your body shake from pleasure you’ve never tasted before, but it does. You’re writhing in his arms, hips twitching into his palm while simultaneously trying to move away from him. “Come on, sweet lamb. You’re twitching around me, so I know you want it. Just give in.” He says. You shake your head, unwilling to admit it because, no, you didn’t want this… but it feels so good. It’s so wrong, and it feels good. Eddie grunts, humming at the slick sound coming from between your legs, and you keen forward in blissful white-hot pleasure, eyebrows furrowing when Eddie’s lips smear over the corner of your mouth.

The music and chatter of the party from outside drown out as Eddie mumbles into your skin, a gentle finger working in and out of you, teasing to sink all the way in. You’ve never felt this way before. You’ve never let the desire boil over a fleeting thought, always quick to turn to prayer, and you are, without a doubt, ashamed.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie groans, “You’re so fucking tight. Wonder how I’m gonna be able to fit my cock in this little pussy.” He speaks to himself as you loudly whimper, leaning into the immense build-up. His arm loosens from around you, and you take the opportunity to wriggle away from him, but he doesn’t let you go far. He’s making quick work to grasp onto your chin tightly, fingertips angrily digging into your cheek as he drags you forward, sharp gaze cutting across your face as he grits out, “I’ll just have to make it fit then, won’t I.”

It’s not a question, but you shake your head nonetheless, even if Eddie’s hold prevents you from doing so.

It’s when Eddie shoves the entire length of his finger into you that you topple over the edge, a sharp cry leaving your lips as your body tenses, face screwing up in pleasure. Eddie slants his lips over yours, tasting your cries and moaning into them, creating a harmony of nothing but sin. Your thighs shake, and Eddie’s finger is moving in tandem with the thumb he’s pressed to your clit, shoving you closer and closer to this immense sensation that has you sobbing out against his mouth.

You whine, squirming against his hold when his sharp teeth sink into your bottom lip, harsh and claiming. The taste of metal fills your mouth, spilling onto Eddie’s tongue when he laves it over the new wound. He parts from your mouth with a wet smack; lips tinted red with your blood as he gives his second bloody smile of the night. Between the throbbing and sore sensation in your core and the aching wound Eddie has now left on your lip, your body has been pushed to the limit.

Eddie smiles, reaching up to thumb at your split lip, eyes twinkling as he admires his work. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your damp cheek, gently licking the salty tears away with a hum before settling back to gaze at you in a fond manner.

He pinches your lip, grinning when your breath catches.

“Now we match.”

Eddie doesn’t usually go to mass.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to go (he doesn’t), but who the hell is waking up at six in the morning to sing a bunch of ancient hymnals and recite scriptures that he’s already read a million times before? Not Eddie. 

The thought of dragging himself out of bed, still half asleep and groggy, to sit through a seemingly endless series of hymns and recitations he’d heard countless times before was simply dreadful. It was a chore—a monotonous obligation that stifled his soul rather than nourishing it. You couldn’t pay Eddie enough to say one good thing about mass.

Well, that’s changed now that you’re here.

One good thing about mass? The pretty girl sitting three rows ahead of him.

Sunshine-dripping smiles and flouncy skirts. Strawberry and honey-scented winds when you walk by. Pretty, kind, and innocent bright-eyed you— the star of Eddie’s dreams— wet and tame. It’s been a day, and Eddie would crawl to the ends of the earth for a second between your thighs— except Eddie doesn’t need to do all that work because he’s practically got you in the palm of his hands.

You’re so fucking clueless, so easy to bend and mold into the shape of Eddie’s little fucktoy that Eddie honestly thinks this is the universe's gift to him for fucking him over all his life. And Eddie’s had his fair share of women. Back home, he fucked over half of Hawkins PTA moms, and he’s had a few of the prissy good-for-nothing girls here at All Saints doubled over his dorm bed and sobbing his name. He’s had a good run with a few of the rugby and soccer team members as well, sometimes takes a good fuck as payment for a bit of snow.

And Eddie’s into fucked up shit, okay. Likes the whole chains and whips scene, likes it when they cry, and aren’t sure whether to ask for more or less. He likes leaving his mark, whether it be with his teeth, his hands, or his pretty Darla— a pretty, wooden hunting knife that his old man gifted him before he got tossed in the pen. Eddie can’t hunt for shit, but he figures he’s still doing the blade justice, right? Carving his initials into his catches seems better, anyway.

And Eddie likes to break things just to fix them again. When he was younger, he would take apart the home phone down to the tiny nuts and bolts and put it back together, and he would do it over and over until he got bored and moved on to the toaster.

Technically, you aren’t any different from the home phone or the toaster.

Eddie wants to take you apart, piece by piece, and study your parts until he’s an expert in all things you. And then he wants to put you back together, leave out certain pieces, and replace them with his own until you’re nothing but a creation of his doing. He wants to make you believe in him like he’s a fucking god, like he’s everything, like you were nothing before him, and you’ll be nothing without him. He wants to ruin you for anybody else.

He wants you for him and only him.

You’re cute today. More timid and shy than you were yesterday, and you’re even cuter with your head bowed as you recite prayers and confessions of your own. You’ve got the school uniform on, just as everybody else, a pleated skirt with knee highs that Eddie can’t wait to feel brushing up against his ears as he fucks you into his shitty mattress. Eddie notices you have a habit of subconsciously tugging and twirling around the pendants on your necklace, and it somehow makes you cuter.

You’re battling something, Eddie can tell, with the way you’re practically choking yourself with the necklace and chewing on your lip, careful not to nick the scabbed over the wound that Eddie had left last night— so fucking cute. 

And then, Eddie realizes what had been worrying you when you stand up and make your way over to the short line where students line up to sit in a box and confess their lousy sins to some dipshit priest that could care less.

And Eddie thinks, oh, you’re just the sweetest thing he’s ever come across— confessing to sins that don’t exist. Asking for forgiveness that you won’t receive. You were made for Eddie to destroy, and he’s already fucking winning.

And as if it couldn’t get better— there’s Steve.

Steve Harrington— captain of the rugby team, grade-A asshole, and the one thing that Eddie could never get his hands on— is looking at Eddie like he wishes he would burst into flames on the fucking spot. Eddie’s seen an angry Steve— he’s a rugby player, for fucks sake— and Eddie can admit that this look, the angry glare he’s receiving from across the room, tops it all.

Steve has never liked Eddie, and he never will— he made that clear one too many times. He’s caught Eddie looking at him in class or watching him instead of the priest during sermons, but he made sure to let Eddie know he wants nothing to do with him because, ‘I’m not fucking gay, Munson.’ And that’s fine. Whatever. Eddie’s not wailing to the sky about how Steve Harrington doesn’t want to fuck him. But something about the look Steve’s giving Eddie— the absolute murderous glare that’s cutting stars into Eddie’s vision— makes Eddie think that maybe he’s got a chance.

Like, you ever hate someone so much you wanna fuck them? That’s how Steve’s looking at Eddie. Like Steve wants to make Eddie feel so good that Eddie loathes the fact that it’s Steve making him feel good. Like he wants to make Eddie see stars. Like he wants to make Eddie regret ever looking at you.

It’s cute. So fucking cute, you and Steve.

And Eddie realizes— yeah, I hit the fucking jackpot.

The day passes fairly quickly, and the athletic period arrives before Eddie can gauge it.

Eddie very rarely participates in afternoon sports. 

It’s not that Eddie doesn’t like sports— Wayne is a big baseball fan, so he knows quite a bit about the sport— but Eddie doesn’t have a single athletic bone in his body, so it’s more of a matter over mind thing, really.

Unfortunately, athletics is mandatory, and Eddie is on his righteous way to failing if he skips one more day, so he musters up the dignity he has left and forces himself to attend the class. The sun is annoyingly bright today, and there’s hardly a breeze, so Eddie’s sticky and sweaty by the end of warm-up— and Eddie was not planning on washing his hair tonight, but alas… eh, he probably won’t either way.

It’s halfway through the period when Eddie decides the coach doesn’t give a shit about him, and he can make an escape to the locker room. It’s been roughly a month since Eddie was last in this rancid-smelling room— two weeks if you count the drug deal he made with the soccer goalkeeper; he was short on cash, so Eddie settled for a blowie as payment, and although Baine swears to fuck all that he’s never sucked dick before, the hand to mouth coordination was a little bit too practiced for a rookie, so. 

Even if there’s a fresh, raunchy memory to associate with athletics, Eddie’s still got a scowl on his face when he walks out of the locker room. His skin is searing to the touch, hotter than a fucking oven, and Eddie hates being hot— there is nothing extraordinary about being a metalhead when the weather is twelve degrees above hell. He’s making a beeline for the showers, not even bothering to remove his shirt when he flips on the cold water and sticks his neck beneath the cool stream. It’s orgasmic, really, and Eddie thinks he could spend an eternity here if it didn't smell like dick and balls.

Eddie’s so caught up in the cooling sensation of water on his skin that he doesn’t even hear the locker room door open or the heavy footsteps of Steve Harrington. He fucking feels him, though, especially when the rugby player reaches around and switches off the shower head, sweat-slick skin rubbing against Eddie’s wet frame.

Eddie turns around then to look at Steve, raising an eyebrow at the deep scowl on the other boy's face. “What’d you do to her, you fucking asshole?”

Despite Steve glaring at Eddie with a look that would send anyone in their right mind running for the hills, Eddie can’t help but think him akin to a chipmunk. Cute with more anger than his little body can hold. “Not sure who you’re talking about, Harrington,” Eddie responds. Steve snarls like he’s a literal wolf and Eddie almost coos, “You know who I’m talking about, Munson.”

Eddie feigns confusion before snapping his fingers as if he’s come to a conclusion, “Oh! You mean your eye candy from last night—” Eddie can’t say more then because Steve is grasping him by the collar of his shirt and pressing him into the shower wall, anger flashing across his eyes as he glares at Eddie. “Watch your fucking mouth, Eddie—”

“Why?” Eddie presses with a glare, “You’re mad I got to her before you could? I gotta say, I owe you big time, Harrington.” He teases.

“Thanks for punching me in the fucking mouth.” Eddie shoves the boy off of him with a glare. “Really fucking hurt, by the way. But I mean, it sped up the process for me. You practically dropped her cute little ass in my lap.”

Steve steps closer, sharing a breath with Eddie as he grits out, “If one punch wasn’t enough for you to back off, I’ll gladly give you another.” He threatens. Cute.

Eddie chuckles, pushing Steve away again with a roll of his eyes. “Jesus. Loosen up, man, I didn’t fuck her… Not yet, anyway—” “Well, you can keep wishing.”

Eddie bellows out a deep, hearty laugh at that, head tossing back as he leans against the shower wall, “It’s funny you think you have a say, Stevie.”

With a glare on his face, Steve scoffs and turns to leave, but Eddie thinks now is the perfect time to give his proposal, if ever, right? So, despite Eddie’s pride, he calls out the other boy's name, stepping away from the shower wall when Steve turns back around with an annoyed expression.

“I’ll tell you what, Harrington,” Eddie says as he approaches Steve. “I’ll teach her.”

Steve’s face twists in confusion at that, glaring at Eddie as he responds, “Teach her?” 

Eddie nods with a grin tugging at his lips, “I’ll teach her. Get her nice and ready, even have her wrapped in a cute little bow for you— and when she’s ready, you can have her. I’ll even grant you the privilege of fucking her first.”

And Steve doesn’t seem to believe it, which, Eddie doesn’t blame him— it’s a great fucking deal. Steve shifts in his spot, body turning more towards Eddie as his eyes slightly narrow, “What’s in it for you?”

Eddie scoffs out a laugh, flashing a pearly white grin that seems to make the other boy's face flush with a cute light tinge of pink, “Everything, man. I get to break her in,” Eddie shrugs, “It’s the best part.”

And whether or not Steve thinks Eddie is completely insane, whether he believes in those satanic ritual rumors or not, or if he believes Eddie’s some ridiculously demented man, it doesn’t stop Steve from wanting in. Eddie can read Steve from a mile away, and nothing about Steve’s demeanor right now says he’s not interested.

“...Fine— but if I find out you fucked her—” Before Steve can finish the threat, Eddie’s holding his hands up in surrender. “Cross my heart, hope to die, Harrington. She’ll be perfectly trained and fresh for you.” Eddie winks. Steve grimaces at that, shaking his head as he begins to turn around and walk away with a mumble of, “Fuckin’ perv.”

And Eddie can only grin to himself as he watches the boy leave, knowing that not only is Eddie gonna have the time of his life turning you into his personal fucktoy, but he will also 100% turn Steve Harrington into his bitch.

a/n: HIIIII, oh god here we go, another series hehe. again, thank u so much to my bae @munsonlore for brainstorming this fic w me and helping me along the way. i hope u enjoy what we have planned for these three ;)

thank u for reading, ily always!!

freaky lil cutie taglist: @gnrquinn @otterpop13 @sirensleepingsoundly @hugdealer @poppyseed018 @your-nightmaredoll @daysinthephoenix @chaiflvrd @daisy-munson @amira0303 @kellsck @eddiesguitarskills @peaches-roses-sins @ohmeg @tellmealovestory @munsonsbtch @freak-of-hawkins @darknesseddiem @urdadsnewgiirlfriend

The combo of Matt's sweet smile and big arms 😍

your boyfriend wriothesley's touch is so soft— featherlight and how you'd imagine clouds would feel like under your fingertips.

and it makes your stomach squeeze together when he smirks against your lips as he catches you push up his clothed erection for a little pleasure, a silverness of pitchy noises and his deep, almost frightening groans diffusing the tension in the air, protecting you both as you whine out his name in a desperate cry— whilst, you know his teasing nature by now yet his only response to that was a chuckle, a little taunting, guttural and unhurried, his hidden cock remaining heavy against your naked core.

it hurts when wriothesley teases you in such mean way, it has you bite your lower lip in hopes you‘d be able to shut yourself up for good, so you wouldn‘t feed into his jesting— at the same time, your pussy burns ever so slightly when he fondles with your body while you're only waiting for him to take you, he touches you like you’re made out of chiffon and delicate silk, a slow twitch swelling through your aching core and all the way down to your puffy pussy fluttering around nothing.

the pleasure and repeated burn of his pants rub across your folds, and with ease, it outweighs the pain of waiting when he begins to grind his clothed, erected cock over your inflamed skin, back and forth in a skilled refrain, and again— this time slower so you could feel him even closer, how he's pressuring his dick against your pussy, back and forth, back and forth, his large hips taking all the space in between your own as he rolls them inside, grinding and fucking his length a little more, so you'd slick him up real good, fuck it makes him drool out of his mouth how fucked up you had gotten from him dry humping the broad daylight out of you, yet also when you make a mess out of his pants.

but when wriothesley suddenly sees the dampness of your cheeks and your flustered face rejecting his gaze, the way your evident frustration with his teasing was growing by a tenfold, he truly believed he might've crossed a line with you today, yet the man couldn't help himself and dream the sweetest, most pleasurable dream of you when he began to fantasize about what punishments you had in store for him.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

Rammstein, Forum Copenhagen, Copenhagen, 20.11.2004 / Photos by Jens Dige  and Lars Bech [HQ]

WE MUST STAY FOCUSED🚨🙏

richard kruspe in live aus berlin tho

I have an audacious, threatening, CONCERNING amount of Till pics. Take some, traveler.

some rzk pics I found in my camera roll :)<3 feel free to take them if you’d like!

THIS JUST DROPPED HOLY SHIT🔥🔥🔥🔥