#Purple Ribbon Shirt

[cute-girls-from-vns-anime-manga]

水遊び by HYONEE

#Original #Purple hair #Purple Eyes #Long hair #Swimsuit #Jean shorts #Thighs #Tummy #Belly #Navel #see through shirt #Ponytail #Thou Shalt Submit to the PonyTail #Hair ribbon

[catominor]

you can’t drop the phrase “I have a picture of me dressed as Sulla” and NOT show proof

the thing is is that they are all very bad pictures that i look bad in so i will not <3

#asks #it did semi slay though i had the haircut & color & the grass crown and everything #&i sewed purple ribbons onto a blanket and a white t shirt for the whole senator fit lol

[lukeskqwalker]

I officially have two (2!!) followers who like mash enough to reblog mash stuff from me so if you thought I was annoying about it when I had No audience you're in for a treat now

#this is a joke. but still I'm grinning like a mad man like YESSSSSSS SOME PEOPLE UNDERSTANNDDDD #god I should draw Klinger 80000 times tbh #he has the most pretty eyes in the world and all of his outfits are literally so good #I wanna draw his different outfits. the BOXING LOOK is so good #the pink pants with that frilly flower shirt?!? yes #I REALLY wanna draw that purple princess dress with all the ribbons but it's so hard to get a good picture of it #dhgsgs but yeah the mash stuff will not be increasing nor decreasing no matter how many reblogs I get from ppl #tho the Star Wars stuff might increase!!! bc after much looking I fINALLY found active Star Wars bloggers to try following #Star Wars my beloved you would be on my dash all the time if I could Actually find content for you...... #(pssst. hey. if you're a Star Wars blog you wanna tell me you wanna tell me sooooo bad)

[polarisbear]

lil creatures <3 (and some i don’t know… hermits?) (Really detailed image description below)

a drawing of geminitay, pearlescentmoon, zombiecleo, stressmonster101, and false symmetry posing in a line. they’re in their season 10 outfits or slightly altered versions of their normal skins.

gem is posing with a diamond sword across her shoulders and wormy snail, and the orange and yellow lighthouse goldfish hanging out behind her. she’s in her pirate skin with magic hair ending in water, with shark teeth, slitted eyes and claws. she has a very toothy grin and desaturated palette.

pearl is flicking up the brim of her hat while holding onto the strap of her messenger bag. pogt is peeking out behind pearl, with a messenger pigeon on her hat. she’s in her postmaster skin with an undershirt on, a jacket tied around her waist, and hiking boots. the bag has more celestial details. she has a relaxed smirk and a very warm palette.

cleo carrying atlas, an orange cat, and a tray holding enchanted books and a tall, teal glass. she has on flowers in her hair, a sleeveless button up, a torn off-the-shoulder shirt, a high-waisted pencil skirt, and dress shoes. she looks exasperated and she has a cool palette.

stress is proudly holding up a pile of mud with roots and bricks sticking out of it with madame meepless, a gray british shorthair, looking up at stress. she’s wearing a pink-purple-teal flower crown, a white shirt, overalls with patches and one leg short and the other leg tucked in her black rain boots, and a bright pink tracksuit jacket on top. she’s covered in mud and has a very vibrant color palette.

false is holding a briefcase and a diamond shovel casually, with the shovel on the ground. she has on the minister hat with red and white goggles acting as the ribbon, a red, poorly tied tie, an untucked red-and-white striped shirt, a dark green blazer with gold buttons, fancy shorts with a white 2nd shorts underneath, and brown boots with socks. she’s looking confidently off to the side and has a warm, but muted, palette.

#hermitcraft #geminitay #pearlescentmoon #zombiecleo #stressmonster101 #falsesymmetry #id in alt text #art archive #. anyways i work on a lot of things in my spare time #also yeah i do watch all of them (or y’know as much as i can)

[artsbynorhan]

(via Overdose Awareness No More Stigma No More Shame Purple Ribbon International Overdose Awareness Day Gift Classic T-Shirt by norhan2000)

#findyourthing #redbubble #Overdose Awareness #Overdose Awareness No More Stigma No More Shame #No More Stigma No More Shame #Purple Ribbon #International Overdose Awareness Day #awareness #lastoffer #norhan #gift #overdose #shirt #sticker #tshirt #by norhan2000

[cherrychilli]

18+

Eddie Munson x AFAB reader, established relationship, mentions of bodily injury and blood(not reader's), allusions to oral sex (f)

Let's just say that Eddie eats you out a little too well and suffers the consequences.

The bleeding's finally starting to stem you're relieved to notice, pulling back his bloodied bandana to peek at his swollen nose, all flushed red like crushed berries. Streaks of dry blood trail down to his chin in thin ribbons and you look at him sympathetically.

"I'm dellin' you bade, id loobs worse than id is", Eddie tries to assure you once more though you're not convinced because you can make out the beginnings of a black eye on his face too, a purple half moon starting to take shape below his left eye.

You'd apologized profusely when it happened, nearly brought to tears over how guilty you felt about the whole thing but all he did was grin proudly like he couldn't be happier about it, teeth stained pink with fresh blood.

"Bade"

"Yeah?"

"You're nod wearin' a bra"

You look down and realize he's right, your nipples hard and showing through your shirt because hospitals are such cold, sterile places. Now that you're looking at yourself you notice that your shirt's inside out too but of course he doesn't notice that detail because he's too busy staring at your tits.

"Oh. Yeah well, I kinda forgot in the rush to get here", you tell him, uncaring if anyone else notices because your priority right now is your boyfriend's wellbeing.

"No id's good. Helbs take my mind off the paib", he grinned again, raising his eyebrows at you suggestively.

Even with a broken nose and all that blood on his face and clothes he still manages to look handsome, still charming in that loveable dork kind of way that made you fall for him all those years ago, stirring something warm in your belly.

"Just let me do the talking, okay?", you stroke his cheek gently, placing a quick kiss there which makes his face turn pink in a way that's unrelated to his injury. You looked over the forms one of the nurses had handed you when you first came in, filling the blank spaces with Eddie's personal information.

Fell down the stairs. That's pretty believable, right? You continued to jot his details down, hoping the doctors and nurses will buy what you're selling because the last thing you wanted to divulge was that your boyfriend made you cum so hard while going down on you that you kicked him in the face on accident.

"Baaade"

"Eddie, don't talk you might start bleeding again"

"Jud one more ding", he nudges his shoulder against yours.

You look away from the paperwork then, catching a lilt to his tone that sounded serious. "What is it?", a tendril of worry winds up your spine. Had you concussed him? Oh shit, if he's got a concussion too then-

"Did you forbet your panties too?"

The tendril withers away unceremoniously.

"Eddie", you deadpanned. "This is not the damn time."

"Pleab jud answer the quedtion", he gives you the eyes, those wide, bottomless whiskey brown eyes and you crumble.

"Fine. I forgot, okay?", you duck your head and whisper in his ear. "You were bleeding so much- I just threw on whatever was closest."

He then eyes your skirt in that same way that got him in this situation in the first place, tongue swiping over his blood tinged bottom lip.

"Great becob I wad thinkin'. Round two in the van afder they patch me up?"

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things smut #eddie munson x reader

[mellowwillowy]

Hi I'm not sure if you do sub yan..but here's my req sub male yan with pregnancy/lactation kink..fem dom

Almost Anything is on the table, I was using AMAB intersex reader for this but decided to set it as GN in the end. Yan! Sub Golden Retriever energy x GN Black Cat! Reader energy

“Please…” the man beneath you whined as he humped against your thigh, mouth drooling for a taste of your breast, “I really need them…”

You ruffled his messy red hair playfully, dark shades of purple lipstick marks all over his fucked up face and body. “Do you?”

His cock twitched at your remarks, his head nodded in eagerness as he brought your hand to his face, tongue grazing your manicured fingernails, “Need em’ real bad to the point I’ll just cum from latching them…”

You hummed at him, eyes trained on his naked body that was bruised in purple shades of your lipstick and blood clots.

“Do you?”

“Yes, my Master!” He looked up to you unblinking.

Your hand went to unzip the turtleneck shirt you were wearing, allowing his eyes to feast on your bare body. Just before he could dive in to have a mouthful of your breast, your hand yanked his head backward by his messy red hair, "Where's your manner?"

Lucius chewed on his lower lip before he begged again, this time tears pooling in his amethyst eyes, "My Master, please..." He blinked away his tears, "Let this lowly mutt indulge himself for a moment and he shall return the gratitude thrice fold."

Your ribboned tail swished, eyebrows raised as you waited for him to say more. And he did. He squirmed beneath you, his knees sore from the kneeling position that he had been set for what seemed to be hours, mouth dry from pleas before he delivered an ultimatum,

"I will let my Master massacre the mutts I lead."

At that your lip curled into a smirk, your hand let go of his head and he took his chance to dive in, tongue feeling your hardened nipple while the other was twisted and pinched by his fingers.

You sighed lovingly as your heels dug into his thigh and cock, pressing it harder and deeper as you felt his breath grow raggier and unsteady with each second passing.

He'd love to taste the milk out of your breast, to feel how your breasts swelled inside it and enlarge them from their original sizes. Alas, it would be impossible unless he could put your guard down and sneak magic into your autonomy.

But as for now, the mutt was completely content with salivating over his executioner's breasts, dirtying their heel's sole with his cum. Oh he would enjoy licking them clean.

#Yandere Smut #Yandere x Reader #Yandere Imagines #CatboX #XL the Capricious #Theatric Guest

[43qh]

your writing is so lovely, I’m a writer myself but don’t think i’m that good but i wanna see you write quinn dating a very girly reader like one who loves pinks & purples, dresses, being dolled up sometimes, has an interest in vintage designer items or even has hints of pinks all around in her apartment. i could not stop thinking about what he would gift her if he would spot stuff in window shops on one of his days off that screams you all over it. like him buying it with a nice stain pink ribbon for your anniversary ugh i’m in awe thinking about it this past week 😩

quinn hughes x fem!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 641 (sorry it’s so short !)

warnings: none! just quinn thinking of reader and being sweet

quinn observes you, looking at the pink skirt that dangles off your waist that is perfectly paired with a white shirt. you looked gorgeous. he felt out of place as he sat on the edge of your bed, wearing all black. quinn knew you liked bright colors, wore them often and your room was decorated like a fairytale.

he hums to himself as he watches you finish up your look, making you turn around at the sound. “do you like it?”

quinn smiles softly, “yeah, of course i do.”

you feel your body heat up at the genuine compliment, trying your best not to look nervous in front of him. he urges you to come towards him with a nod of his head. you follow, walking and standing between his legs. his hands trace along your bare thighs, looking up at you with love. you shiver at the touch, smiling down at him.

“i got you something,” he mumbles, looking at you with a sparkle in his eyes.

you pout, “you didn’t have to.”

he shakes his head, “wanted to.”

you watch as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a delicate box. you frown, seeing a designer name on it. he knew you loved things like this, but you knew it had to have been expensive. it wasn’t like quinn cared, though. as long as you were happy. spoiled and happy.

“open it,” he encourages, handing you the box.

you slowly open it, eyeing him for just a few moments before seeing what was inside. it’s a gorgeous heart necklace, a beautiful pink as it shines brightly in your room. your gasp and the smile on your face makes it all worth it to quinn. he had window shopped for hours before coming upon that gift. he always likes getting you something nice, something you can remember him by.

“put it on me?” you smile, turning around. quinn stands from his sitting position, taking the necklace out of your hands and clasping it together.

you reach a hand up, feeling the jewelry between your fingers and sighing. “thank you, quinn. i love it so much.”

quinn kisses you softly, “i’m glad you do, sweetheart. you look gorgeous in it.” he eyes the necklace around your neck, proud of his own gift as it matches the outfit you currently wear.

quinn never thought he would end up with someone who dressed the opposite to him, had an aura the opposite to him. but he did, and he didn’t find any flaws about it. you were his girl. the girl who loved to dress up, wear all these pretty clothes, show it off for him.

and damn, did he feel lucky.

quinn pulls one last thing out of his pocket, surprising you again. it’s another box. you eye him suspiciously, but don’t hesitate to open it. it’s a gorgeous satin ribbon, one for your hair. it’s a light pink, making you smile and bite your bottom lip.

“why am i being spoiled?” you ask, wrapping your arms around him. “i know it’s our anniversary but you didn’t need to-”

“because i love you.” he blurts out, looking you in the eye and putting a pause on your sentence, “i love you so much, and every time i’m out, i think of you. i think about the things you would and wouldn’t like. i think about putting these things on you and watching you flaunt.”

you smile up at him, tears starting to form quietly, “i love you so much, quinn.”

he dips down for a kiss, feeling how soft and pillowy your lips are. and it’s nothing short of sweet, nothing you aren’t familiar with but something you can’t get used to. it causes your knees to almost buckle below you, feeling him smile against your lips.

you were quinn’s gorgeous girl.

#nhl #quinn hughes #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes scenario #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl hockey #nhl fluff

[ranaeley]

A fancy boyo

[Image ID: A drawing of Hunter from The Owl House. He stands, smiling, with one foot crossed behind the other, and he holds Waffles in staff form.

He wears a maroon collared shirt, with brown and gold Victorian suspenders. There is a similarly colored brown witch hat on his head, with maroon lining and a maroon ribbon wrapped around the base of the hat’s crown. Two feathers are tucked into the ribbon, one red and one blue. He has checkered brown pants and a pair of greyish-brown boots.

The background of the image is pale purple, with a few maroon feathers floating in the air around Hunter. The second two images are closeups of Hunter and Waffles. End ID]

Part 1 of my witch outfit series!

Part 2

#the owl house #toh #hunter noceda #hunter toh #digital art #toh waffles #waffles #palisman #hunter noceda deamonne wittebane park clawthorne #my art #artists on tumblr #witches #witch outfits #i’m so proud of him #this was an excuse to draw him in a witch hat #drew this while listening to the new starkid show baha #the soundtrack is incredible

[magireco]

Here is a total of 7 screenshots of NEW GIRL!!!!!!

so the first most interesting thing here to me is that in NONE of the frames do we see her eyes, so we don't know what shape or color they are... but she's platinum-ish blonde, has a side ponytail, bangs, and two long homura-esque strands of hair framing her face. though we can't tell the exact shape of her bangs considering all we have of her are action shots...

...hear me out, though. Her outfit looks like a mix between mami and homura's magical girl costumes.

LOOK. white shirt with short, puffy sleeves (mami) under a purple corset (mami-esque corset, homura purple) with black diamond shaped trims? she also has the mami armwarmers BUT WITH THE PURPLE SLEEVE TRIMS HOMURA HAS ON HER UNDERSHIRT. her skirt is also the same color and has the same ruffles as homura's does, but it's a bit longer than homura's skirt. she has the exact same boots as homura except she has no diamonds on the sides... she also has a collar reminiscent of mami's...

...except all of the ribbons on her costume are black, like the one around the squareish collar around her neck (mami stuff.) and the ribbon on the back of her shirt (homura stuff.)

and if aoki umi designed this, there's definitely intention behind it. WHO IS SHE!!!!!!!!AAAAAGHJREJFJSDJFHS

#madoka magica #pmmm #madoka magica rebellion #walpurgis no kaiten #kaiten #madoka magica movie #rambles #sooo...can i draw her now? #kaiten tag

[orderforbrian]

asked for jmart valentines day prompts and decided to combine them into one little comic! <3 little late but better than never

poor jon 🤭when he said intimate he meant more dear to martin's heart <3

[Start ID: Multipanel comic of Jon and Martin from the Magnus Archives for Valentine's day. Comic is in greyscale except for orange/pink of blushes and flowers. Jon is a thin Persian man with dark eyes and dark, curly hair tied back in a bun, there is a grey streak in his bangs. He has a beard and is wearing a blazer with a business shirt and tie. Martin is a fat mixed Polish/Korean man with dark eyes and short dark wavy hair. He has a beauty mark next to his lip and is wearing a striped, knitted cardigan with a business shirt, as well as browline glasses.

Panel 1+2+3: Martin smiles widely with a small tear in one eye, holding a bouquet of pink and purple flowers with a pink ribbon. He says, "Jon...thank you!! I don't know what to say!". Jon averts his eyes with a small blush and responds, "While flowers and chocolates are nice, I also wanted to get you something more...". It zooms in to one of Jon's eyes, dark and captivating. He finishes the sentence, "Intimate."

Panel 4: Martin blushes with a small frown, a couple sweat marks on his face. "O-oh?" he says, wary (but a little excited?) as to what Jon means by intimate.

Panel 5+6+7+8: Jon chastely holds out a gift box to Martin, turning his head away and closing his eyes. Martin nervously reaches for the box, tucking the bouquet in one arm. He thinks, "oh GOD why is he looking away". Martin opens the gift box, his face and hand silhouetted, and finds a pink polka dot tea cozy inside - over it says ta-da with sparkles. Next panel has Jon and Martin as floating heads. Martin asks with a shock, "Is - is this a tea cozy?". Jon's eyes are half-lidded, a bit embarrassed. "Yes, I knitted it myself." He quietly adds on. Martin bursts out into laughter, holding a hand in front of his wide smile. "Snrk-heh heh heh heh!" Jon is just buggy eyes and a wiggly mouth, asking "What? What? What?".

Panel 9+10: Jon raises a hand towards Martin, looking flustered, a couple sweat marks come off him. "Wh-why are you laughing? Do you not like it? I can get you something-". Martin cuts him off by kissing his forehead, lightly pulling at his neck to bring him closer. He nuzzles into his hair with a smitten smile. "No, I love it." His sentence and the kiss are punctuated by a heart. Jon, under the effects of being kissed, promptly shuts up, blushing and looking starry eyed. His one eye is closed where Martin is kissing his forehead.

Panel 11+12: Martin pulls back, blushing madly. Jon stares ahead with large sparkling eyes, blushing greatly as well with a tiny frown. Mistaking it as discomfort, Martin begins to apologize. "Oh! Oh, I'm sorry! I totally kissed you without--mmf!" He is cut short when Jon turns to him, grabs his cheek and pulls him in to a hurried (and quite fish lipped) kiss. Martin's eye is cartoonishly wide and he is somehow blushing even more than he was before. Lots of hearts surround the two. End ID.]

aaaand bonus little doodle for reading the ID :3

[Start ID: Floating Martin head, he sighs with closed eyes and a tiny smile. He says "When you said intimate, I thought you meant like lingerie LOL". A tiny Jon in the corner screams in horror, "NOO!!" End ID.]

#the magnus archives #tma #jmart #jonmartin #teaholding #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #order up! art tag #this is so ooc but idccccccccc

[colorfuldragons]

dungeon meshi characters, but as flight rising dragons

𝟣. laios touden: beige/antique/antique

2. marcille donato: caribbean/flaxen/ruby

3. chilchuck tims: auburn/camo/beige

4. senshi of izganda: coal/oilslick/latte

5. izutsumi: obsidian/obsidian/white

6. falin touden: iris/antique/antique

spoiler scry + design notes under the read-more:

7. falin (chimera): vermillion/antique/antique

———————

i had been meaning to scry/post the dungeon meshi main cast for a while. i figured in honor of the manga's final chapter would be a good occasion

design notes:

𝟣. laios touden:

outfit inspired by fr user Rafale's laios fandragon

ravenskull broadsword bc it has wings like his sword

tundra + antique secondary/tert, like falin (siblings)

2. marcille donato:

ruby runes to represent: her magic, her red hair bow, bloody hands when she was resurrecting falin

will o' the ember for her explosion spells

iridescent primary for her elven heritage + penchant of fancy things

3. chilchuck tims:

veined tert to represent his greying hairs

i debated between the gambeson (closer texture) VS tanned rogue vest (overall closer colors) for him, but ended up going for the gambeson as it feels more distinct

camo secondary for a "camo = stealthy" joke

[edit: 1 feb 2024] i think my screen had the Flux settings too high before and i thought his shirt was beige. its actually white, so i changed his shirt from a shabby to classy dress shirt.

4. senshi of izganda:

bamboo dried tea to represent his cooking supplies

unfortunately none of the helm apparel had the right colors for his helmet, so i opted for tan okapi to represent his helm's horn colors

i wanted to include the iron shield apparel for his adamantine shield/pot, but it wouldve covered up his kilt, so i left it out

[edit: 1 feb 2024] changed primary from ribbon to chrysocolla, an earthy gene to match his past as a miner. changed tert color slightly to match better. also gave him carrots

5. izutsumi:

initially i tried nocturne and spiral, but the armour pieces looked too short on them, so i ended up going for mirror instead

i also tried the tanned rogue apparels, but they covered up too much of the torso

wooly antennae for her ears

6. falin touden:

marshlurker's drape to represent her coat, bc there wasnt a lot of suitable coats, and the more purple-y hue (and hat) also references her debut outfit

sparkle tert to represent her magic

tundra + antique secondary/tert, like laios (siblings)

[edit: 1 feb 2024] edited her primary to be more purplish, since the animes confirmed her coat is supposed to be more indigo colored, and gave her browner boots. also edited her reference photo coat color to match it too

7. falin (chimera):

i chose to make the touden siblings both tundras, so that chimera falin could be a gaoler (based on the joke gaolers are just tundra 2.0)

spirit secondary bc she haunts the narrative

if youve made it to here, feel free to comment which fandragon scry is your fav! :)

#dungeon meshi #flight rising #laios touden #marcille donato #chilchuck #senshi of izganda #izutsumi #falin touden #scrying workshop #dressing room #fandom scries

[stevesbabysittingservice]

MIDNIGHT LOVE ✨;✩°𓏲⋆💤.*

steve harrington x fem!reader [4.2K] steve didn’t expect to have fallen madly in love with you, much less for his confession to be whispered in the dead of night after another nightmare renders him sleepless. (16+)

Sleeping was a privilege Steve Harrington lost a long time ago.

Finding himself sitting in his kitchen at half past two, his bruised knuckles tap against the marble countertop in time with the faint ticking of the clock mounted on the wall. It’s a steady sound, one that still lingers with an uneasy sense of worry thanks to a man named Henry Creel, but Steve still tries to keep in time to catch his lost breath.

Steve woke up in a sweat, chest heaving and heart racing after yet another collage of gruesome, disturbing images infiltrated his dreams. The sound of your piercing screams, one so loud that it could shatter glass, the amount of crimson pooling at your stomach and seeping through his fingers, the pain rattling in his chest, the light draining from your pretty eyes.

Even now, after being awake and stumbling aimlessly through his expectantly empty home, Steve’s still not really sure how much of it was real. In any other circumstance, Steve would like to say he’s pretty good at handling the aftermath of the catastrophes in his head, but something about this time felt different.

Steve can’t seem to decide what’s worse; the fact that his dream felt so real because, in some way, there was a significant level of truth to it, or because it hurts him that little — a lot — more since he’s almost certain he’s fallen in love with you.

He wasn’t prepared for that. He isn’t prepared for that.

“Fuck,” Steve breathes out, his voice shot and rugged from what little sleep he managed to get. His hands, ones covered in calluses and surface-level cuts, shake a little as he runs them through his bed-messed hair and down his face. “Fuck.”

Hot and cold flashes shock his body like a lightning strike, goosebumps rising on his uncovered legs and his chest rising with heat beneath his old Hawkins High Phys. Ed sweatshirt. Everything aches. The muscles in his arms and his legs, his head, the gashes and torsions littering his waist.

It’s only been a few days since the world fell apart and got stitched back together and Steve can’t seem to find any peace of mind, can’t even seem to relax for just one, measly second.

The weight of the world crushing his shoulders for the past three years, the physical toll his body has had to endure time and time again, all whilst trying to balance the necessity to protect the people he cherishes like family. It’s a lot to bear at 19. He’s almost certain he’s destined for every good thing in his life to turn to ruins.

“Baby?”

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly Steve swivels on the kitchen stool at the sound of your voice, warm and doe-eyed. The light of his life, the one thing keeping him sane, his version of heaven. Steve was starting to wonder if tonight would be the first time you didn’t notice the absence of his figure beside you in bed.

What a stupid, stupid fool he is to think you wouldn’t notice.

Steve’s features soften at the sight of you, groggy and sleepy and far too adorable for someone who’d have just woken up. Even though he’s bone-deep tired and still a little shaken up from his nightmare, the boy finds himself smiling faintly at your arrival, anyway. You always manage to make him grin, even without trying.

You're in his shirt, like always, the fabric light against your skin and the hem of it stops just short of your hips. Your sleep shorts are barely visible beneath, the only proof of them being the satin ribbon glinting in the moonlight, the once-tied bow now hanging, unravelled, at your thigh.

Like oxidized copper, day-old bruises stain your skin, shades of yellow and moss-green replacing the once burgundy and deep purple splotches that painted your knees. Scabbed cuts in the shape of a Demobat’s jaw litter the expanse of your calf like a fucked up puzzle, and the no-doubt scars waiting to form make Steve feel terrible all over again.

You’re alive, thank God, but that’s yet to be enough to ease the pain of wishing he could’ve done more.

Shades of blue and indigo paint over you like an oceanic kaleidoscope, a capsize of darkness making your cheekbones, your jaw, the muscles on your biceps and your thighs nothing short of a Goddess-like vision. As you further step into the kitchen, your presence alone makes Steve feel like the entire world has been set on fire and glittered sunshine and warmth.

Fuck. He really might be in love with you.

“Hey, baby.” Steve says a little guiltily and his voice is an octave or two lower than normal, almost like he’s afraid that breaking the silence that once accompanied him might ruin the heavenly sight of you.

“Steve, it’s.. it’s two in the morning,” you chide softly, voice a little raspy but Steve can still hear the worry seeping between your words. Your knuckles rub at your eyes, a weak attempt at knocking away the evidence of sleep and waking yourself up simultaneously. “What’re you doing up?”

It’s closer to three than it is two, and Steve’s been up for much longer than that. But he won’t tell you that. Not when he knows it’d get you even more worried.

“Thirsty,” he says, and the word comes out tougher than he meant it to. His throat honestly feels like sandpaper. “Needed a drink, s’all.”

Steve tilts his head towards the cup of water he’d poured that sits on the counter. However, in retrospect, the boy wishes he hadn’t given it much attention at all because the glass he motioned to is obviously untouched, condensation dripping down the sides and there’s a lack of lip or finger marks.

Your eyes flit between the glass and your tired boyfriend, an unconvinced look lacing your features, and it’s not long before you silently tread towards him. Steve knew it was a weak attempt at getting you back to bed. He knew you wouldn’t. Not without him, anyway.

“What’s wrong?”

Your question comes out more of a grumble than anything, but the concern is still there, still genuine. You know him all too well, and Steve was an absolute idiot in thinking he could get away with such a pathetic lie.

It’s like he’s in a hypnotic state whenever you’re with him because Steve isn’t quick enough to come up with another lie. He just watches you in awe. You draw close like a magnetic force, and the boy’s legs part automatically. In all honesty, he’d be a liar to say he didn’t expect that you’d crowd his space sooner rather than later.

Your hands find his in the dark and your fingers run across the bumps of his knuckles. The glitter in your nail polish catches the light peeking in through the window above the sink and it makes it seem like shooting stars are dancing across his bruises.

You’re so tender with him, he’s come to notice. Like he’s an expensive China doll, or a glass fixture hanging from the ceiling. You always stare at him like you're admiring him, too, even when Steve feels exceptionally unattractive, and you always make him like a teenager all over again.

“Bad dream?” you eventually answer the question Steve had forgotten about after a few moments of comfortable silence, mumbling against his temple.

Earlier on in your relationship, Steve felt nothing short of a burden. He’d keep you up at night, come stumbling upon your front door bloodied and bruised and in need of help, and drag you along on adventures you’d have never signed up for if you knew what they’d entail.

But, even amongst the terror, you never complained, not once, and Steve often thanks the God he doesn’t believe in to have found somebody as patient and understanding as you.

So, Steve can’t see a point in lying anymore. Not when you know him so well— not when you’ve seen him at his worst and stayed.

“Yeah,” Steve admits through a shallow breath, his lungs still constricting themselves even after he’d steadied his breathing maybe ten minutes ago. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Much to his delight, you wrap your arms around his shoulders before pressing yourself into him. Steve returns the favor instantaneously, your body still lingering with warmth from his bed as he slides his hands beneath your shirt and around your torso. If he died in this position, he’d die a happy, grateful man.

Steve basks in your company, his eyes closing briefly, and part of him thinks he could fall asleep like this if you’d let him. His face presses against your collarbone and he lets out a faint, satisfied hum when he feels you place a soft kiss on the top of his head. You’re so soft and warm and Steve practically melts against you.

Another kiss from you, a wordless I’m sorry. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Steve barely shakes his head, but it’s enough for you to notice. “Don’t wanna keep you up.” he says.

You pull away, then — not far, but there’s just enough distance between you both that Steve can glance up at you with ease. You give him a look, one he’s become far too familiar with after being with you for so long; eyes soft, but narrowed.

“I’m already awake, Steve,” you dismiss the boy gently, hand moving to card through his dark locks. You push them out of his face, forcing Steve to meet your intense, but kind gaze. “What happened this time?”

In any other circumstance, Steve would persist in his refusal to talk about his nightmares. He knows that any time somebody had asked, it was out of pure concern, which he appreciates, but it’s just hard. Sometimes Steve thinks talking about it might make it more real, more plausible.

Robin, when he’d shown up with dark circles under his eyes at work and she’d nagged him in her Robin-esque way; Eddie, during their weekly smoke sessions at his trailer in a lazy, off-handed way in hopes to come off as carefree as he’s known to be; Nancy, because once upon a time, she knew him better than anybody.

It’s difficult for Steve to open up to them, because, in his mind, they still harbor this idea that he’s the strong knight in shining armor they expect him to be. Admitting that he’s weak, troubled, and unable to move past the shit he’s dealt with in the last few years would break that façade, and Steve isn’t sure he can handle that kind of disappointment.

But you? You’ve seen it all, even despite his trying to conceal it from you out of everyone, and it’s never phased you. His weakness has slipped through the cracks of his porcelain walls, and you still like him, he thinks. He’ll never understand what he did to deserve your kindness.

“We were at the lake again,” Steve starts reluctantly. It honest to God feels like he’s tugging at an open wound. “You got pulled down, and I chased after you, but the bats..” he exhales sharply and he runs a hand through his already distressed hair, a telltale sign that he’s been restless for a while now. “I didn’t get there in time.”

The thought of you not being here with him stings, and it’s the kind of hurt that’s far worse than any real pain he’s ever endured in his life— though, Steve considers the idea of losing you to be as real as pain could possibly be.

In reality, Steve knows your getting gravely injured couldn’t have happened with the way things went at Lover’s Lake. Not when he insisted on diving for the group, not when he refused to let you go down with him, not when he made Eddie swear on his life to keep you safe if things went sideways. It wasn’t foolproof, not by any margin, but it was enough.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t still scare him shitless, though.

“I’m sorry, baby.” you say as you press another kiss to his head, but it’s a little longer than the one you’d given him earlier.

“It’s okay,” Steve dismisses, and when your eyes meet again he tries to force a smile. It’s unconvincing, like always, but you don’t further pry about the nightmare, which he’s ultimately grateful for. He doesn’t want to relive it any more than he already has. “It’s just— shit, I don’t know.. annoying. It’s like my brain loves torturing me, or something. Never wants me to get any fuckin’ sleep.”

“They’re just nightmares, you know,” you remind him with a frown, and Steve wonders if you’ll ever get tired of sounding like a broken record. The amount of times you’ve had to piece him back together after he’d woken up a panicked, broken version of himself is probably in the hundreds, thousands. “They aren’t real. Henry can’t trick you anymore.”

He likes that you call him Henry instead of Vecna. It somehow manages to make his mythical, supernatural powers.. smaller than they seem. Like you aren’t scared of him. Steve wishes he has that kind of confidence.

But they are real, in some way or another. There are hints of truth mixed within the already existing storm of terror causing a riot in his head. Because, regardless of the outcome, Steve’s brain consistently morphs his reality into something far more sinister and tragic.

Sometimes he finds himself so deep within the jungle of contorted memories that he can’t decipher whether you're really sleeping beside him or if it’s another one of Vecna’s tricks.

“Feels pretty goddamn real.” he huffs out an exhausted laugh, one so humorless it’s almost as sharp as a knife’s edge. God, he’s exhausted.

“I know. I’m sorry,” you apologize for what feels like the millionth time, and Steve feels guilty you need to fix something you didn’t break. “I wish I could make it better.”

You do. In ways Steve could never replicate. The feeling of your heartbeat rattling against his, the warmth your body provides, the lingering remnants of your floral perfume, the taste of your mint toothpaste against his lips, the sound of your voice and the purity in your laugh; it provides Steve sanctum within a place that hasn’t had any peace or grace in a long, long time.

“We’re okay, you know,” Steve knows you’re not necessarily asking him for an answer, even if it’s framed like a question. “I’m okay, and you’re okay. So are the kids, and Robin, Eddie, Nance.. it’s just your brain’s way of trying to make sense of what happened.”

“Pretty shitty of it to make me relive all that crap.” says Steve, another humorless laugh sneaking past his tongue.

“I know, but they’ll stop eventually,” you murmur, and Steve knows it’s more wishful thinking than anything, but it warms his chest anyway. “It’ll just take time.”

Steve’s grip tightens around your waist and he shudders at the image flashing behind his eyelids. “It’s just scary, y’know?” he breathes out. “Thinkin’ about what.. what could’ve happened because we weren’t careful.”

“We were as careful as we could’ve been, baby,” you tell the boy, and Steve knows that’s somewhat true. It wasn’t like you guys had days to sit and think of the perfect way to defeat an evil, child-murdering guy with tentacles, but it was enough. “You just.. you can’t get stuck on the what-ifs, Steve. It won’t do you any good.”

Steve hums, then, because you’re right, but he doesn’t say much else. He still feels deflated, even in the comfort of your presence.

“Besides,” you start with a little shrug, your body more energized than it had been when you initially found Steve drowning in his own dread. “There are things that are way scarier than what ifs, anyway.”

Yeah, Steve thinks, like how I think I’m falling in love with you.

But instead, the boy exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Mumbling against the material of your — his — shirt, he asks, “Yeah? Like what?”

When living in a shithole like Hawkins, a handful of supernatural things come to mind. The Demogorgon he saved you from in 1983, the Demodogs he was almost eaten by in ‘84, the Russians who almost beat him to a pulp in July of last year, the herd of Demobats you managed to beat up like Sigourney Goddamn Weaver—

“Taxes.” you blurt, and Steve doesn’t even have the chance to register what you’d said before a surprised laugh rumbles from his chest.

Fuck.

Steve's eyes snap up at you, and with wrinkled brows, he manages to half force out, half laugh, “What?”

Fuck.

“Any paperwork, really. Or me trying to cook,” you hum softly, the apples of your cheeks swelling as you let yourself drift back into the countless memories of kitchen mishaps you, and Steve, have shared in this very room. “I mean, you remember how Thanksgiving went. It was a total shitshow.”

One undercooked turkey, a load of burnt potatoes because you forgot to turn the oven down, and pumpkin pie that, oddly enough, had no pumpkin in it. It was a hot mess, really, but it’s probably one of Steve’s fondest memories— even if that's totally and utterly lame to admit.

He’s definitely in love with you.

“That..” Steve’s breath is shaky all of a sudden, and his voice wavers. “Yeah, you trying to cook is pretty scary.”

“Clowns are scary, too,” you add, almost for good measure. Your nose crinkles and Steve feels his chest bloom with heat at the sight of it. “They’re always smiling. It’s.. I mean, what’s scarier than that?”

Steve doesn’t mean to blurt it out, not really, but the compulsion to spill his flourishing feelings for you was far too burdening to ignore. Your hands were twisting in his hair, nails softly scraping at his scalp and you were staring down at him with your God-given smile like he’s a national fucking treasure or something.

If there’s one thing to know about Steve, it’s that he feels a lot. He’s passionate about a lot of things, and a lot of people, and trying to smother and conceal that part of himself only amplifies his emotions until he’s fit to burst. He throws his heart out on the line and lets it teeter like a trapeze artist and hopes that someone, somewhere, is ready and willing to catch it when it falls.

Most of the time it ends in tragedy and heartbreak, but Steve thinks that this time, you could be that someone to pick up the broken pieces with fragile hands and stitch them back together. He really hopes you’re that someone.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Your body stills and your features contort into something Steve can’t decipher. You blink once, twice, before quietly muttering, “What?”

For a long, long time, home was just an idea that Steve was never quite able to grasp. A figure of his wildest, incapable dreams. His house, one that only seemed filled because of the old photos on the mantle and from the light bouncing off the chandelier, was never home. Hell— Hawkins as a whole isn’t home, either. Not anymore.

Steve hadn't known that home could be a person. Not until you.

“I think I love you.” Steve repeats, all his attempts at keeping his composure slowly wilting away with every second that passes.

Your gaze flickers across the expanse of his face, eyes soaking in every scar and every mark, every freckle and mole that litters his sun-kissed skin. One of your hands gently moves to cup the side of his face and your thumb slides almost methodically against his cheek, feather-like grazes across a silver scar he’d gained back in July 1985.

Steve can feel the warmth blooming beneath your angelic touch, a match to his body of flames, and barely above a whisper, you ask, “You think?”

His heartbeat begins to ricochet from his chest and into his now trembling fingertips. Steve’s veins feel like they’re pumping with acid, a new wave of anxiousness coursing through him like he’d been burnt from the inside out. It’s painful, in a way, but it’s a good kind of hurt. The kind he never wants to stop feeling.

So it takes Steve a moment, but he eventually shakes his head, his dark brown eyes flitting down at your lips before meeting your gaze again. He can’t help but notice the aquatic pools filling your lash line.

“I know,” Steve corrects himself, his tongue moving to wet his now dry lips. “I know I love you.”

Your breath hitches, then, and if the world hadn’t become a muted track in Steve’s ears, he might’ve missed it. You’re so, so quiet, all of a sudden, and there’s a large part of Steve that can’t help but start panicking because he’s convinced he’s already fucked this up.

“And that’s scary?” you ask him with a crack in your voice, words wobbling.

in a low voice, he admits, “Terrifying.”

Steve’s driven through heartbreak avenue so many times that his heart is probably more scar tissue than muscle, been dealt a bad set of cards after gambling his love away and left with nothing but the clothes on his back and the ghost of his ex-lover clawing at his chest.

He was black and blue most days, the haunting of what he could’ve done better always following him around like a fucked up shadow when he’d finally move on, only for him to just fall back into that same pit of regret he’d become oh so acquainted with.

It sucked, because getting his heart ripped out and stomped on time and time again was worse than any other pain he’s ever experienced in his 20 years of living.

But, what’s so scary, in Steve’s mind, is the fact that he’d do it all over again in a blink of an eye. He would take every punch and every jab, every insult and every ounce of hurt ten times over if he knew it meant that he’d find his way back to you.

Steve isn’t expecting you to say anything, much less do anything, so you can imagine his surprise when your hand is gentle as it cups the side of his face. He can’t help but lean further into your palm, his chocolate brown eyes unable to break away from your glassy ones.

In a soft, almost shaky voice, you tell the boy, “I don’t think you should be scared about that.”

Steve’s heart stops. “You don’t?” he asks, almost unsure because the uncertainty of your answer hangs heavy in the air.

“No. Because I..” you shake your head and lick your lips, too, pretty dream-like eyes darting across his features. And, with a faint, tired smile, you confess, “I love you, too, Steve. More than anything.”

Steve’s heart starts up again, quicker than ever before, because shit, that'd be enough for him.

Then, with unwavering confidence, Steve surges forward and captures you in a hurried kiss. Mouths slotting together in a heavenly disarray, the boy’s hands tighten around your frame and his mind goes entirely blank on everything that isn’t you because you’re his world he’d die orbiting around.

Steve’s kissing you with a level of fervid he didn’t know he had locked within him, and if the two of you were on display, it would seem like he’d been deprived of your admiration entirely. Your hand, the one splayed across his cheek, moves to his jaw and tilts his chin up ever so slightly and you deepen the kiss.

The boy can’t stop himself from trying to pull you impossibly closer, a new wave of determination washing over him as his desire to feel every ounce of you burns hotter. His tongue soothing over the accidental scrape of his teeth, Steve’s hunger only grows when you muffle out a faint moan against his lips.

You’re both panting when you pull away, a soft click sounding at the departure of your lips from Steve’s. Your forehead rests against his and Steve can’t help himself from trying to steal another kiss from you. You pull back, though, your eyelashes tickling his cheeks and Steve forgets entirely about the way the edge of the counter is digging into his spine.

“Can we go back to bed?” you ask him in a faint voice, eyes still closed and your nose bumps against his, your breath shallow against Steve’s face. The boy is left dizzy from your surging kisses, lips still tingling despite the loss of yours, and Steve almost misses the salacious hint in your request.

Almost.

The boy can’t bring himself to speak, but Steve nods, sneaking another kiss from you before he takes your hand in his and leads you back to the safety of his bedroom, socked feet padding against the floor sounding just as loud as the thumping his heart bounces off his ribcage.

And there, between rumbled sheets, Steve proves how much he loves you til the early signs of morning peak through his blinds, slivers of pink and orange rays mixing and painting your features gold.

Gentle kisses and rough hands, crescent moons adding to the constellation of freckles on his back, moans mixing with whispered sweet nothings echoing between his bedroom walls; a faint mantra of I love you, I love you, I love you encompassing you both.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x reader angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #stranger things #stranger things fluff #stranger things angst #hurt/comfort #stevesbabysittingservice

[linkedspirit-fanartfunart]

[Image Description: A colored drawing of the Twilight Princess Kids and Colin's baby sister, aged up several years. Left to Right: Malo, a teenager, wearing a long reddish skirt and a green wrap, with a white sleeveless shirt. He wears cut off sleeve sections, with tassels on the end. His hair is long, in a bun with a blue ribbon. He looks disgruntled at a ruppee bag in his hands. Behind him, Talo, an older teen or young adult, leans an arm on Colin, looking at him with a smile. Talo wears a white sleeveless shirt, a brown skirt and grey wrap which both has green trims. Under the wrap is a blue skirt banner with a white acorn design. He wears a red sash. His hair is choppy, pulled over top of a red headband. Between Talo and Colin is Colin's Sister, about 10 or so, Kiri, has short blond hair with a pink bandana. She has grey eyes, and wears a salmon pink shirt with tan capri pants. She doesn't wear shoes. She wears a light purple wrap with a pink sash. Kiri waves, smiling. Colin is behind her, one hand on her shoulder. He looks up awkwardly at Talo. He wears a green half sleeve similar to TP Link's over a white sleeveless shirt. He wears green capri pants and a brown wrap with blue and orange layer under it. His hair is cropped shorter in the back. Beside him, Beth stands with one hand on her hip. She wears a pink sleeveless shirt with a white vertical side. She wears a deep purple wrap, with a white sash. She wears puffy purple pants, with pink bows. End ID]

The kiddos! But approximately 10-ish years older. (No Illia because she's not a Kid TM anymore, she's Ordon's age lol)

#linked spirit #loz au #legend of zelda #linked spirit au #loz #ls kiri #ls beth #ls colin #ls talo #ls malo #twilight princess #tp kids

[noahsresources]

how would your muse describe mine? (positive associations)

send an emoji (and/or the description of them) to let them know! if it helps, think about finishing the following sentence from the perspective of your muse: "i think you're _____." (terms source)

🐹 [HAMSTER FACE] — adorable

🪵 [WOOD] — adventurous

😄 [GRINNING FACE WITH SMILING EYES] — agreeable

🤩 [FACE WITH STARRY EYES] — ambitious

🎨 [ARTIST PALETTE] — artistic

📓 [COMPOSITION NOTEBOOK] — attentive

☠️ [SKULL AND CROSSBONES] — bold

💪 [FLEXED BICEP] — brave

⭐️ [STAR] — bright

🫧 [BUBBLES] — bubbly

😶‍🌫️ [FACE IN CLOUDS] — calm

😶 [FACE WITHOUT MOUTH] — careful

☀️ [SUN] — charismatic

🧹 [BROOM] — clean

🖊️ [BALLPOINT PEN] — clever

❤️ [RED HEART] — compassionate

🧡 [ORANGE HEART] — confident

💛 [YELLOW HEART] — considerate

💚 [GREEN HEART] — cool

💙 [BLUE HEART] — cooperative

💜 [PURPLE HEART] — courageous

🖌️ [PAINTBRUSH] — crafty

🤔 [THINKING FACE] — curious

🐱 [CAT FACE] — cute

🏠 [HOUSE] — dedicated

⚓️ [ANCHOR] — dependable

🥇 [GOLD MEDAL] — determined

🌊 [WAVE] — eager

🐚 [SEASHELL] — easygoing

🎬 [CLAPPER BOARD] — encouraging

🌪️ [TORNADO] — energetic

🚗 [CAR] — experienced

🎟️ [ADMISSION TICKET] — fair

👗 [DRESS] — fashionable

🔥 [FIRE] — fiery

💋 [KISS MARK] — flirtatious

☺️ [SMILING FACE] — friendly

😎 [SMILING FACE WITH SUNGLASSES] — fun

💩 [PILE OF POOP] — funny

🎁 [PRESENT] — generous

💐 [BOUQUET] — gifted

👔 [SHIRT AND TIE] — handsome

😀 [GRINNING FACE] — happy

📞 [TELEPHONE RECEIVER] — hardworking

💞 [REVOLVING HEARTS] — helpful

💓 [BEATING HEART] — honest

☁️ [CLOUD] — imaginative

🏹 [BOW AND ARROW] — independent

🍼 [BABY BOTTLE] — innocent

🤓 [SMILING FACE WITH GLASSES] — inquisitive

🧐 [FACE WITH MONOCLE] — intelligent

🤪 [GOOFY FACE] — jovial

💝 [HEART WITH RIBBON] — kind

❓ [RED QUESTION MARK] — logical

💕 [TWO HEARTS] — loving

💍 [RING] — loyal

👞 [DRESS SHOE] — mature

🥼 [LAB COAT] — modest

🔮 [CRYSTAL BALL] — mysterious

🧼 [SOAP] — neat

🧑‍🏫 [TEACHER] — obedient

👀 [EYES] — observant

📖 [OPEN BOOK] — open

👍 [THUMBS UP] — optimistic

🎻 [VIOLIN] — passionate

⌛️ [HOURGLASS] — patient

🎱 [BILLIARDS] — perceptive

🐶 [DOG FACE] — playful

🙇 [PERSON BOWING] — polite

🏃 [RUNNER] — quick

🤫 [SHUSHING FACE] — quiet

📚 [BOOKS] — resourceful

💟 [HEART DECORATION] — respectful

🔖 [BOOKMARK] — responsible

🔬 [MICROSCOPE] — serious

🥰 [SMILING FACE WITH HEARTS] — sincere

👓 [GLASSES] — smart

👯 [DANCING PEOPLE] — sociable

🫶 [HEART HANDS] — supportive

🧁 [CUPCAKE] — sweet

🌈 [RAINBOW] — tactful

💃 [WOMAN DANCING] — talented

💬 [SPEECH BALLOON] — talkative

💭 [THOUGHT BALLOON] — thoughtful

🙏 [HANDS PRESSED TOGETHER] — tolerant

🎤 [MICROPHONE] — trusting

🐵 [MONKEY FACE] — unique

💰 [MONEY BAG] — unselfish

🎶 [MUSICAL NOTES] — upbeat

⛑️ [HELMET WITH WHITE CROSS] — vigilant

🌼 [FLOWER] — warm

🧓 [OLDER ADULT] — wise

#rp ask memes #rp ask meme #rp meme #rp memes #ask meme #ask memes #ask game #ask games #emoji meme #emoji memes #emoji ask games #emoji ask game #symbols #games #mine

[valkyrayn]

marius x reader | may all your christmases be white

tags: teasing. clothed sex. dirty talk. orgasm denial. pathetic & begging marius. marius is the christmas gift. handjob. blowjob. dick riding. overstimulation - mission to drain his balls basically. shameless porn. breeding kink (?) yes breeding kink. creampies. yes plural. unprotected sex. squirting. wet and messy. traumatising and defiling the christmas tree. i need church. 

------

“Babe, come look!”

Marius' voice, filled with excitement, echoes from the living room. You quickly wipe your hands on the apron, then slip it over your head.

After a brief inspection of the cookies through the oven window, you smile to yourself before turning on your heel to exit the kitchen, wondering what your fiance is so excited about. 

You both had spent the evening decorating the living room with Christmas decorations, giving the living space the festive vibe that it needed. Tinsels and garlands draped along the mantelpiece, framing the modern fireplace with stockings with his name and yours embroidered on them in gold thread. The plush sofa beside it is draped in red throws and dark green pillows, its cosiness inviting you to lie in it. 

And then there’s the scented candles filling the air with the comforting fragrance of spiced apples, now mingling with the scent of your cookies, wafting in from the kitchen. 

Finally, your gaze settles on the six-foot Christmas tree, standing in the middle of the room. Once adorned with traditional red and green ornaments and tinsels from when you decorated it together—now carries subtle touches of purple, courtesy of your husband-to-be. 

You circle it, taking in the enchanting view, and that's when you find him, reclining sideways beneath the tree. 

“Merry Christmas, my love,” he smiles, innocently—all for two seconds before it turns into his signature smirk. 

He's presented like a gift, much too sinful for Christmas—enveloped in stripes of red and green ribbons, complete with a bow. The silk ribbons wind around his torso, thighs, and neck, snug but impressively tight enough to secure his own wrists behind his back. 

Leave it to Marius to take gift wrapping seriously. 

You sink to your knees beside him, tugging lightly onto one of the loose ribbons, looking at him in curious amusement. “Are we unwrapping gifts tonight? Isn’t it a bit too early?”

With a smug smile, he winks and wiggles his body to move nearer to you. “You can open this one a bit earlier, I don’t mind.” 

You raise an eyebrow, a matching smirk playing on your lips.

“Hmmmm…but what if I don’t want to?” You reach forward to play with the top button of his shirt, before popping it open. “What if I want to keep it all wrapped up?” You love that shirt on him—he looks so good in it because it hugs his body perfectly, accentuating his firm chest and arm muscles. 

But then again, he looks good in anything, especially with nothing on.

“But jiejie…where’s the fun in that?” Marius attempts to sit up, but your palm abruptly stops him, pushing hard against his chest until his back is flat on the floor. 

“Oh…there’s lots of fun in that.”

You lick your lips when his muscle flexes underneath your touch. 

Shifting to straddle his thighs, your fingers tug at the tail of his shirt, freeing them from his pants before pushing it up his body. You trace your nails gently along his exposed skin, easily leaving red lines from how sensitive it is—while you relish in the sight of his abs rippling in response to your touch. 

“Jiejie…?” he chuckles nervously, eyes narrowing as he watches your fingers move towards his zipper. With deft fingers, you reach in and pull his cock out of its confines—earning you a sharp hiss from him. 

With his wrists pinned behind him, he struggles to free himself and you giggle in amusement at how he has put himself in that predicament. The frown on his face shows how frustrated he is with himself and you’re determined to add just a bit more to the madness. 

It doesn’t take long for his cock to stiffen in your grasp, the head pink and leaking with pre-cum, begging to be licked. You wipe it with your thumb, smearing it down his length as you tighten your fist around him and begin stroking—gently, torturously slow. 

Marius groans at the sight, eyes fixated on your small hand, pumping him up and down at that deliberate pace that drives him insane. 

Briefly removing your hand from him, you spit into your palm before wrapping your hand around him again—the new wet and warm sensation makes his hips buck upwards involuntarily. You can see the desperation in his eyes, clouded with lustful urges to take control. 

Patience has never been his strong suit, at least not when it comes to sex. Especially not when he’s on the receiving end of the teasing. 

“How long do you think you can hold yourself back?”

He hisses at the feeling of your thumb tracing the vein on the underside of his cock. “Hold…myself?”

You give him a hard tug. 

Marius’ eyes snap up to meet yours then, eyebrows raised. 

“You’re always telling me not to cum…only when you tell me to…” you trail off, voice low, carrying a seductive lilt. “So…” You reach into his pants to knead his balls, heavy and twitching against your fingers. 

“I wonder how long you’ll last…” You shift backwards, making space to lean forward—giving his swollen tip a teasing lick. “...before you break for me.”

“Fuck.”

His hips jerk upwards when your lips close around him. The warmth of your mouth welcomes his cock as it slides all the way in with practised ease, bumping against the back of your throat. 

From both the suction of your mouth and your fingers pumping him, it’s impressive how he has not immediately exploded down your throat.

But there’s something about denying his orgasm that makes the experience so sexy. The desperation is etched on his face, aching to give in to the pleasure but also restraining himself, eager to please—or fearing to lose. 

You did not miss the mumbled pleas leaving his lips.

“Did I just hear you beg, baby?” You tilt your head sideways teasingly, kissing the head of his cock before wrapping your lips tight around it. “Mmmmmm…” You moan deliberately, sending delicious vibrations through his body, making his cock throb against your tongue. 

“…please—please…”

“Please what, Marius?” You pump his cock faster, watching as more pre-cum leak from the tip and mingling with your spit. 

Gripping the base of his cock, you wrap your mouth around him again. The sudden warmth enveloping him made him throw his head back against the floor, hips arching towards the ceiling, shoving deeper into your mouth. Your saliva trails down his length and pools at the base. 

“Fuck..please…please let me cum. Babe—”

Besides the sound of wet sucking and gags as you deepthroat him, you can also hear his ragged breathing and choked pleas. The obscenity of it all makes you cum untouched before you even realise it.

Releasing him with a pop, you give him a hard tug as you simultaneously shove your other hand down your skirt—flicking furiously at your aching clit with your fingers as you come apart before him. 

“Oh—I’m cumm—Marius, cum for me. Cum, now.” 

He came with a roar, body jerking uncontrollably against you while your fingers continue to pump his cock, feeling it violently twitch as he unloads all over your hand. 

Ribbons of hot white semen shoot from the tip, and with no target lock, it gets everywhere—decorating your fingers, lips, his abs, chest and everything in the radius, including the poor Christmas tree, with his fluids. There’s so much of it, and your hand continues to milk him, even opening your mouth to capture some of it on your tongue. 

Marius looks positively debauched beneath you; covered in his own cum, skin glistening with sweat, hair unkempt—and the once pretty bow, now crooked beyond repair. His eyes are clenched shut, jaw slack, as he releases a shuddering breath. 

With no intention to let him rest, as he has done the same to you more times than you can count—you tug his pants down, shove your skirt and panties to your ankles then swiftly climb up his body. Marius' eyes widen as he watches you straddle him, your hair falling messily in front of you as you reach for him.

His barely softening cock stands fully erect once again when you grab him to line him up against your wet cunt. 

“Babe…wait—”

The walls of your cunt stretch deliciously around his thick cock as you sink down onto his body—dragging another involuntary moan out of him. His eyes roll to the back of his head at the feeling of your tight walls gripping his overstimulated cock. He has barely recovered from his last orgasm, the final spurts still shooting from his tip, splashing against your walls. 

The air feels too hot so you quickly fumble to unbutton your blouse, tugging it open to free your tits. He groans at the sight of your exposed breasts, your nipples harden under his hungry stare, feral and bordering on unhinged. 

The absence of control takes its toll on a man, particularly on one Marius von Hagen.

Wonder what the employees of Pax would think if they ever saw their precious young CEO like this. The pretty flush on his cheeks, the narrow slits of his eyes as he wills himself from blacking out from overstimulation and the occasional whining sounds leaving his lips, pleading for your mercy. 

You take a mental picture, carving it into your memory for future use when he leaves for yet another week-long business trip. 

Planting your palms against his chest, you roll your hips against him to take him deeper. With some effort, he props his arms against the floor to arch his hips upwards to meet yours, pumping his cock into you until you both find a rhythm. 

His eyes are fixated on your joined bodies—every sheathe and pull coats his cock with more of your cream, now mixing with some of his fluids. Its messy and erotic sight is an invitation for him to succumb to another brain-numbing release but a brief snap of reality suddenly kicks in, even though he’s barely keeping it together to form coherent words. 

“Baby, fuck. We didn’t use a condom—”

You slam yourself down onto him, dragging a choked groan from him and cutting him off mid-sentence. You lean forward, pressing your tits against his clothed chest and kisses the underside of his jaw.  

“It’s okay.” You press a soft kiss against the corner of his mouth. “You can cum inside.”

Marius tilts his head slightly to meet your gaze, looking for confirmation, almost in disbelief, only because he knows you’re not on the pill as you normally are. 

“…you sure?” 

“Marius, I want to feel you inside me.” The words leave you with no hesitation. “No barriers. It’s umm–my Christmas gift to you…” You trail, rubbing your thumb across his lower lip. “Breed me like you always said you would.”

“Oh fuck…” 

His chest heaves, mind reeling at your request of which he is more than happy to oblige. He wrestles with the ribbons around him, loosening them just enough so he can adjust himself to an angle that allows him to fuck you deeper. 

“I can’t believe you’re asking me to breed you while I’m all tied up…this isn’t fair.”

You chuckle, trailing your nails down his firm chest, and deftly undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt. You grab onto the ribbons around his neck, holding onto them like reins as you settle back into your seating position. 

“You tied yourself up, Marius.”

He lets out a frustrated grunt, and thrusts up into you, shoving his cock right against your cervix. You scream at the rough intrusion, driving you close to another orgasm.

Your tits bounce wildly as he starts fucking you faster and he savours the sight of your lewd body, naked and slick with sweat and cum—and he’s desperate to taste you. With a press of his palms against the floor, he pushes himself up into a seating position and then greedily latches onto your nipple. 

“Marius…oh…” Your body jerks against him, pressing yourself further into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around your stiff peak, tugging it gently between his teeth then releasing it with a wet pop before giving the other the same attention until they’re both red and swollen.

“Marius…I’m going to—cum…” With his mouth sucking on your tits, swollen clit rubbing against him and thick cock pumping in and out of you in quick hard thrusts, it’s nearly impossible not to come undone again so soon after the last one. 

“I want to feel your cunt squeeze me when you cum. Do it now,  baby…now.” He takes your nipple in his mouth again in one hard suck, it sends you hurtling towards a screaming orgasm. 

“Yessss…just like that baby….”

His name echoes into the ceiling, moans morphing into unrestrained, loud screams. 

“I’m gonna—fucking cum too—holy shit!” A deep rumbling groan escapes his throat, as you cum together, fluids gushing out of you while he empties every single drop inside you in hot spurts. 

You collapse onto him, moaning into his mouth as you continue to ride the euphoria—your body trembling uncontrollably, pussy throbbing and squeezing around him, coaxing more cum from him.

Fluids, yours and his, pool beneath you, leaking messily past your joined flesh,  and onto the, fuck, carpet. You roll your hips against him, clenching your walls deliberately around his cock and he halts mid-kiss to hiss against your lips. 

“Are you trying to drain me?” He asks between ragged breaths, chest heaving and pressing against your oversensitive nipples.  

“Mm-hmm. Every single drop.” 

“Fuck…” 

You raise your hips until his cock slips out of you.  

Through half-lidded eyes, he watches as you spread your folds apart with your fingers, letting the combined release drip onto his navel and slide down his skin. You start fingering yourself and making a show of dipping your fingers inside and pushing it deeper. 

A breathless ‘fuck’ leave his lips and he slams his head back onto the floor, eyes rolling back. 

His cock, despite twitching and weeping from overstimulation, is still stiff—to no one’s surprise. Two is a weak number by his standards. His love for extreme sports is really just a facade for his deep-seated obsession with having more. More adrenaline, more thrill, excitement, and more release—from rounds of vigorous fucking.

So despite the risk of a chafed cock, his greediness to fill you to the brim ultimately consumes him. With your combined fluids as lube, he starts fucking you again—starting with slow thrusting until his strength finds him once more. 

You turn around until your back is to him, settling on your knees again to straddle his thighs. 

The loosening ribbons around him allow him some space to move. He struggles out of the restraints, not completely but just enough to free his arms from under him. You feel him grab your ass cheeks, spreading them to watch his cock sink into you. The first sheathe will never fail to drag that sexy, rumbling groan out of him—music to your ears. 

You pull out completely, leaving only his tip in and then slowly, in a teasing, undulating motion, sink back onto his cock in one quick swoop.

The final thread of his patience snaps. 

And suddenly he’s slamming into you with a speed you aren’t prepared for. 

Rough.

Frenzied. 

You gasp, his hard thrusts send you lurching forward onto his knees, clutching onto his legs, nails sinking into his skin. 

“You’re fucking me so good…Marius—yes…yes!”

“Jiejie…shit—your pussy is squeezing me so tight.”

The fat of your ass smacks loudly against his pelvis, cum pulling and snapping, making a mess on his thighs. He inserts a thumb into your hole, joining his thrusting cock. Your body jolts at the fullness, feeling stretched to the limit as if he’s going to rip you apart. 

“I’m going to fill this hole until you can’t take any more…”

“Yes please…”

The smell of sweat-slicked bodies and sex fills the air, overpowering the smell of scented candles.

Marius raises his knees to force you to lie on your back, flat against his chest. One hand snakes up your front to squeeze your breast while the other finds your throat, fingers wrapping themselves around your neck.

Anchoring his strong legs on the floor, he finally finds an angle that allows him to penetrate his cock even deeper that you can almost feel him in your lungs. 

“Oh—you’re so deep inside me.”

He hisses through gritted teeth. “You’re gonna kill me, babe. You’re so fucking horny…” 

“It’s your…fault…nngghh…”

“Your pussy is gonna feel this tomorrow morning.” He whispers, dipping his mouth near you to lick the skin beneath your earlobe. 

“Mmm...so is your dick.”

Your tits bounce heavily from his hard pounding, with no signs of him faltering—determined to drag more orgasms out of you, until your eyes cross.

The frenzied fucking seem to have moved you both further across the floor, closer to the Christmas tree. The soft tinkling and jingling noises that you hear are coming from the ornaments colliding and brushing against each other, stirred by the movement of the carpet beneath it.

The lewd sound of his balls slapping against your skin drags another lusty moan out of you. You feel drenched and filthy from the cum leaking messily between your bodies.  

“Babe—turn around, please. Want to see—your face when I—cum inside you.” 

Everything happens in quick succession. You turn around and impale yourself with him, he arches his back and slams back into your sex in hard thrusts.

The jingling sounds of ornaments and the loud wet smacking of skin mingle and reverberate throughout the room. Your jaw slack, stuck open in a silent scream—body thrashing above him as your walls clench him in a vice grip. 

His hard fast fucking is too much—the restraints starting to loosen and fall around him at his harsh movement. You can feel his cock pound straight into your cervix.

With one final strength, you pin his arms against the floor on either side of him, putting your weight on his body and start slamming your ass down to meet his thrusts, fighting for dominance. 

Marius curses into the ceiling. You lunge forward and slam your mouth against his in a bruising kiss—a clashing of teeth and tongue, tugging of lips until they’re swollen. Strands of saliva hang between you as you briefly part, gasping for air, breathing into each other. 

“Baby...say it—again. Please…want to—hear you—say it.” He whispers, half whining in broken sentences, hot breath brushing against your chin.

“Cum inside me. Fill me up, Marius.”

“Oh—god…”

Loud moans leave your mouths in unison as he slams into you in quick punishing thrusts before coming straight into your womb, cock twitching and pulsing, cum spurting and coating your walls.

Wild overwhelming pleasure courses through you like fucking electric. And with your inhibition out the window, you lean back and circle your throbbing clit rapidly, pushing to the edge. You come squirting all over him, harder than before—messier than before. 

Holy fuck.

“Oh fuck—babe! Oh shit—cum all over me…yes. Fuck!” Marius' vision blurs as he watches the fluids gush out of you. He’s drenched. His expensive shirt is soaked with your juices, sticking to his skin. 

The obscene amount of fluids combined leaves a huge mess between you, skin and thighs sticking together. The lewd squelching sounds of your absolutely drenched cunt lull your brain back to life, after what seemed like a whole body shut-down. 

La petite mort. The French knew what they were talking about because it does in fact, feel like little death.

The minutes feel like hours as you lay there on top of him, calmed by the rise and fall of his chest. Struggling against the ribbons, he manages to sit up, bringing you with him with arms wrapped around your limp body. He presses his forehead against yours, breath and sweat mingling. 

Marius captures your lips in a soft kiss. You sigh contentedly into his mouth, eyes fluttering closed as you bask in the bliss of the aftermath. He’s always gentle at the after, peppering kisses and whispering sweet nothings against your skin, ever the lovesick fool. Your lovesick fool. 

“Best Christmas gift ever.” You hum against his lips. He hums back in agreement, dipping his head to nip at your jaw.

“The poor Christmas tree though. We defiled it, babe.” 

Your head jerks to look at it. A few of the ornaments, tinsel, and an angel had fallen off the branches, now strewn across the carpet amongst the heap of other messes that your rough sex left in its wake. The carpet is—ruined. At least not in a way where outsiders would know, oh but you, you would know.

Some of the leaves are still dripping with fluids and at that point, you can’t even tell whose anymore. Horrified yet amused—you bury your face against his neck and laugh.

“We’ll have to redecorate. And replace some of these, don’t we?” You say, picking up the angel with your fingers. 

“I say it’s worth it. Fuckin’ around the Christmas tree…even the song tells you to do it.” 

“Marius…it’s ‘rockin’ around.’

He shrugs, grinning. Potay-to po-ta-to.

You groan against his skin in both frustration and embarrassment. He laughs but it quickly dies down. Your eyes widen to find him tilting his head to the side, eyes narrowed in slits at the ceiling. 

“Babe…do I smell burning?”

“THE COOKIES!”

#brainrot #brainrotdump #tears of themis smut #marius von hagen smut #lu jinghe smut