the more friends ask me about dreamwidth, the more i realize i know a lot about this site that isn’t super obvious at first glance. so here is a primer for those of you thinking about making a dreamwidth account. this post ranges from your really basic starter tips to the completely esoteric things that come from using it for a decade.
2023 note: This post was written in 2018. While most of this post is still true, various features may have been changed or updated in the years since.
a what now? dreamwho?
Dreamwidth is a code fork of LiveJournal. A code fork means that they took LJ’s code (which used to be open source) and went their own direction with it. They still use the basic ideas behind LJ’s codebase, but have changed and improved upon it in various ways.
The core difference between DW and other websites is privacy isn’t an afterthought, but the central feature. You can lock posts, filter them to a select group, or make them visible to only you. I recommend reading through this section of DW’s FAQ for more on this.
When you make an account, you can subscribe (ie follow) and grant access to other users. Both of these are one-way – if A subscribes to B, that doesn’t automatically grant B access to all of A’s locked posts. Here’s more on this.
DW in general can be kind of confusing for people who have only used tumblr, but their FAQs are pretty good on the whole, and they’re searchable. If a website feature is confusing, start there.
okay, i have a journal. now what?
Customize it! DW doesn’t have all the latest and greatest features, but you can still make it your own. Here are some useful tips.
You can change your layout from Organize > Select Style. Mobile support is hit or miss, unfortunately, but there are some nice default layouts that work with it. You can also use this style for Practicality which makes DW fully mobile-friendly. If you’d rather design it yourself, Tabula Rasa is completely stripped down.
You can get premade DW layouts at the dreamwidthlayouts community. If you have trouble with your code, ask over at style_system.
Edit your profile! This is where you put your usernames for other social media sites, tell people a bit about yourself, and mention your interests. Your interests will be part of the interest search; it’s one way to find people.
Upload icons! Free accounts get 15 icons; paid accounts get 100 icons, premium accounts get 250 icons. You can use one icon in each entry and commment you make. It’s good form to put the maker of the icon in the comment section if you didn’t make it. If you got it from someone on tumblr, you can even link their blog using the code <user name=username site=tumblr>. (This works all across DW!)
While you can’t make pages, you can set a post to stick at the top of your journal, much like Twitter’s pinned tweets. Here’s how to do it.
You can also change how Dreamwidth itself looks, if you don’t like the red. Go to Account Settings > Display. Most other site display preferences are on that page.
While you’re here, look through the Account Settings > Privacy page. By default, your public entries will be included in site searches. You can turn it off at the bottom of the page if you want. You can also set it so your entries are automatically access-locked or private as well.
This got very long so the rest is behind the cut. (Now you really know I’m legit.)
>>>when you feel like trash before your period and want to hate everything but your boyfriend makes that hard
warnings: none
pairing: l.ty x f!reader
word count: k
tags: alternate universe, non-idol, slice of life, sweet!l.ty, soft morning, cuddles, cuteness, fluff basically, ty is cute fundamentally cute and i can't deny it
You were still in bed.
You’d woken up feeling miserable and had yet to move besides the natural wallowing one did when staying in bed due to a foul mood.
You felt horrible. Not physically…just everything else ever was horrible.
And your boobs were sore.
And not for any obvious reasons, except possibly your impending period.
It was probably that. You decided with a huff and rolled onto your stomach and tried to burrow deeper into your mattress.
Maybe if you went back to sleep - maybe if you just skipped the whole day - very reasonable.
You huffed again, harder this time for anyone in the imaginary back row. Your mind wandered to the fact that something - someone - was missing.
Because you did have a boyfriend who you were fairly certain should at least be next to you.
You reached out and felt for him, your hand making a fairly thorough search of the left side of your mattress, fingers stretched wide, arm reaching.
Nothing, though.
Odd.
He was apparently up doing things. You scrunched your face at the idea of things.
Fuck things, you decided with a groan, pulling your arm back into the protection of the duvet.
It was Saturday. Normally, Taeyong would still be in bed with you.
You sighed and tried listening for Taeyong-sounds - feet moving around in the kitchen, keyboard keys clickity-clacking.
But no.
You didn’t hear anything and assumed he was in some corner with his Switch playing something. Or yours, you wondered. He’d found your otome games once and had gotten super into one storyline - you’d thought he’d gone home when you found him tucked up in your gaming corner - “just five more minutes,” he’d said and waved you away.
He still wouldn’t tell you which game or which storyline he was so invested in.
So it wasn’t totally weird to not feel him immediately next to you, except it was early. Like, suspiciously early for him. He loved to sleep in - you were used to waking up with him wrapped around you - his naked boy legs twined with yours.
You liked his naked boy legs.
You chewed your lip lightly as you reached from your duvet cocoon to find your phone on the bedside table. You felt around slowly and avoided spilling a glass of water as you managed to grab it and pull it back under.
And then you blinded yourself the moment you unlocked it. “Shit,” you mumbled, scrambling to turn the screen brightness down to something tolerable.
You navigated to your chat with Taeyong.
[y/n]
where are u??
You could have checked your friend finder but it felt a little too like stalk-y. Friend finder was for like when you got separated in a crowd (which had maybe happened at a theme park and resulted in you having to describe your adult boyfriend to park employees and waiting at a designated dog-mascot statue like someone’s mom…you’d both activated the ‘find-my’ after that).
[ty]
corner place w bagels you like
You smiled and turned on your side to text back.
[y/n]
that’s so cute
[ty]
🙂↕️
You let out a soft breath. He would brave the busy as fuck bagel shop on a Saturday for you.
You imagined him being jostled around in the line because people were intense over the bagels and literally everyone got jostled, and Taeyong wasn’t intense that way - he was the least likely to return the jostle. But you could imagine increasingly comical facial expressions of surprise and annoyance.
You grinned the grin of someone stupidly happy and curled more under the duvet.
[y/n]
tell me when ur leaving
[ty]
u know i’ve stood in line before
[y/n]
yess but they’re scary
[ty]
silly
[y/n]
also i wasn’t sure where you were
[ty]
ahh the real thing
[y/n]
the line is real
usually ur here
[ty]
bcs saturday morning
[y/n]
yea yk cuddles :p
You laughed, knowing ‘cuddles’ was the worst word to use. It was the kind of innocuous word that would make him want to correct you and also visibly blush.
Because Saturday mornings were for sleeping in and fucking and calling what he did ‘cuddles’ was so inaccurate. Maybe the aftermath - that was cuddling - breathless, sweaty cuddling.
[ty]
cuddles is that what we call it now?
[y/n]
maybe
how’s the line
[ty]
almost finished
[y/n]
good
miss u
You locked your phone and nudged it to the side. You still felt like shit, but knowing he was almost back with your favorite breakfast made you kind of happy.
And even messaging him. It was annoying to smile so much when you basically hated the sun and stars and ground and gravity at the moment.
Or you had when you’d woken up.
And now you felt slightly happy. And you couldn’t even be annoyed about it.
Taeyong was the least annoying person in your life. Even when he sometimes tried a vivid hair color for “fun” and left your pillow cases slightly blue.
He was too ethereal to be upset with. And sweet. And kind.
It was a lethal mixture.
And would maybe kill you.
No matter, though.
You listened to the quiet of the apartment. It wasn’t a bad quiet - it was soft and warm somehow. No noisy neighbors, just your breathing, and distant street noises that no one could escape.
You sighed and thought about getting up, trying to look cute or something, maybe.
But you heard the door open, and your thoughts of cuteness dissipated.
Instead, you listened to the sounds of shoes being kicked off and then movement towards the kitchen, a light rustling of paper, and humming, low and sweet.
You smiled to yourself, trying to track him without moving from your duvet fortress.
It was quiet again.
You waited, wondering where he was this time - probably not gaming in the corner.
You felt him land on the bed and laughed lightly as he pulled you and your duvet fort against him. He nuzzled the duvet between you and him. “I’m back,” he whispered.
You nodded. “I heard you,” you said softly.
He didn’t try to move you. He sighed and hugged you closer. “Miss me?”
“Yes - I already said so—”
“No, you texted, not the same,” he mumbled.
You nodded. “I feel like shit.”
“Yeah, I guessed last night when you tried to fight the Vitamix.”
“Okay, but it has a soup function and it was not soup-ing,” you started to defend yourself.
“Mhmm,” he squeezed you closer.
Even through the duvet, you could feel him - warm from being outside, strong arms, firm torso, and the water notes in his cologne. It was still surprising that he could give you that little whooshy-tingly feeling that started from your scalp and moved like a gentle wave to your toes.
Even when your hormones were in full swing and not in your favor - it still worked. He still worked.
You stayed still for a few minutes. His breathing was steady and gentle.
You swallowed tightly and sighed and started to move around. He loosened his hold, and you worked your way out of the edge of the duvet.
You popped out enough to see him - his face so close to yours. You could feel a smile forming as you reached out, touching his cheek - your fingertips tracing down to his jaw.
He watched you.
Your thumb brushed his lower lip, the two little freckles there that you liked kissing.
You leaned in, kissing him softly, your fingertips resting on his cheek. You could feel his smile as he returned the kiss, his hand trailing along your back.
The kiss lasted, turning into smaller kisses and you lying across him.
“You stood in the bagel line for me.”
He laughed. “There are worse lines,” he said, squeezing your sides.
“Maybe—”
“The B train at 10:15 PM,” he challenged.
You grinned. “Oh my god - that’s not the same - that’s the wait,” you whined.
He smiled, the kind that lit his whole face. “Right - the wait…”
You leaned down to kiss him again.
“The wait,” you murmured against his lips.
a/n: quick and fluffy bcs i'm still trying to figure out what ppl like reading but also this is just how i feel today and what i wanted to write - cute ty who would just make your day impossibly and unavoiadably better by simply being near you and liking you
this may become an ongoing series that uses the same name - idk yet but any comments are welcome
>>>>when mingyu is your TA and you let him talk you into wearing something questionable
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭
pairing: k.mg x f!reader
genere/tags: college au; age gap; bff's older brother; teaching assistant k.mg; college student!reader; semi-public sex; toys; d!s undertones; soft dom!mingyu / BRAT!reader
word count: 3.8k
warnings: explicit language; s3x toys; wearing in public; d!s undertones; fingering; squ!rt; cum play; cum eating; aftercare
Being Mingyu’s secret was intense to begin with.
And when you found out that he would be the TA for your class that spring, it only became…better.
You knew he’d always liked to tease you, but when he showed up at your apartment before your first day of classes started, you were apprehensive.
It had to be something - a quick fuck, maybe?
You’d learned just how often he liked to fuck. It was almost daily, and if not daily, then multiple rounds to make up for a day he missed.
He was sweet and a mild perv. He could go from sweet to teasing your pussy through your clothes in a matter of minutes - it was all one fluid dynamic for him, sweet was sweet and sweet was him holding your face down while he fucked your third orgasm out of you. And sweet was the way he held you after…or ate you after.
But when he came through your door with a small black bag in hand, you knew it was something.
Some fantasy he'd probably had for longer than you would've guessed. Since he kept making little confessions about the things he'd imagined doing with you.
You leaned your hip against the kitchen counter, waiting.
He came to you, kissing your forehead, cupping your cheek as he did. “Hi,” he said with a soft smile. He kissed your cheek and your jaw. You couldn’t help the way your hands trailed along his biceps and shoulders until your arms were around him.
You leaned to the side, letting him kiss along your throat and collarbone. “Brought you something,” he mumbled against your skin.
You smiled. “Yeah, I thought so…”
He paused his activities, leaning up to look at you. “Promise you’ll wear it?” He looked so serious.
You narrowed your eyes skeptically. “I don’t know what it is.”
“A gift from me,” he said sweetly, staring down at you now, his lips forming a slight pout as he squeezed your waist.
“Sounds dangerous,” you murmured, trailing your fingers along the back of his neck.
He shook his head. “Not dangerous - sexy,” he clarified, barely raising his brows, the half smile still on his perfect lips.
He pressed you back into the counter, leaning down, kissing you gently - it was a good kiss. Slow. Misleading probably.
He pulled away slowly.
“Fine,” you said with a sigh. “I’ll wear it.”
You watched his smile grow.
“Come on, bedroom,” he said, pulling you along. And in your own apartment by the way.
You were whipped for him.
But he was down bad, too.
It was mutually messy.
He was buying you little gifts, even if you knew it was definitely from a sex shop.
He handed you the bag once you were in the bedroom. There were two boxes.
One was a fairly flat rectangle - matte black, a thin banded ribbon.
The other box was the same black but a different shape - heavier.
You started with the thin box. You removed the ribbon, and the lid, and the tissue paper.
There were panties inside - lacy and white and crotchless - the fabric was sheer, and the style was high-waisted, and they split perfectly in the middle. You thought about flipping them at Mingyu, but you knew he was serious. He was watching your reaction too hard to be joking.
You wondered vaguely if this meant you could buy underwear for him. You smiled. “Cute,” you whispered, shucking off your jeans and the underwear you were already wearing that you knew he liked.
You watched his eyes follow the ones he liked as you tossed them towards the dirty laundry basket.
“Oh,” he muttered, looking so perfectly disappointed.
You smiled. “I do know which ones you like,” you said, sliding on the new ones. “Help with these,” you said.
He watched the little black ones for a moment like he’d missed out on something. Or his plan hadn’t turned out the exact way he thought. He turned to you, though, helping to line up the fabric on your pussy lips, teasing you as he went.
And when they were just right. “Bend over,” he murmured, nudging your hip. “Show me how they look.”
You could hear it already that way his voice got - the slightly needy, heavy register that told you he was definitely realizing some fantasy he’d been holding onto.
You bent over the foot of the bed, arching a bit to give him a better view.
“Fuck,” he muttered. You could hear the slow way he exhaled. He walked closer, his hands tracing along thighs and ass. “You’re so gorgeous,” he added, voice soft.
His hands slid along the fronts of your thighs and squeezed, and he teased your pussy then. His fingertips tracing where you were just barely open and parted from the position. “Love this part,” he muttered.
His fingertips were tracing your opening now, teasing the wetness that was already building.
“Should I still open the other box?” You asked, knowing you were pulling his attention from the thing he was enjoying.
He whined softly. “Yes - yes, open it, or I’ll just be distracted by your perfect cunt.”
You shifted and sat in the bed, grabbing the second box. You tested it in your hand, feeling the weight. You had a feeling it was a toy or a plug - something he could see from the vantage point the panties gave him.
You looked up at him, watching the way he watched you. “You are proving to be a pervert, aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “I just really like your pussy,” he offered.
You laughed softly. “Right, my sloppy, pervy puppy likes my pussy - that’s good, though.”
You unwrapped the box. It was a vibrator - shorter and fat, meant to sit inside your pussy, not work itself out if your pussy got juicy. This was meant to stay.
He held out his hand, waiting for you to hand it over. “Come on, I need to get it in correctly before class.”
“Correctly?” You asked, teasing the tip of the toy - it was a blunt head, meant to sit deep inside you.
He nodded. “I want to be able to see the end of it, the little jewel nestled inside you, peeking out from your sweet little lips.” He offered his hand again.
You hummed and shook your head, still playing with it. “So eloquent today - I’m not wearing a skirt, though.”
Skirts were his new obsession.
“Please, please - I want to be midway through my dreary fucking lecture and look out and see a little happy sparkle from your pussy,” he was pleading.
But not enough.
“Think I’ll wear jeans—“ you teased, still playing with the toy as a small smirk started to tug at the corner of your lips.
He whined softly. “Please,” he asked again.
You shrugged and sat back on the bed, letting your legs fall open. You offered him the toy, dangling it like a piece of fruit.
He pouted. “And come on - you don’t hate skirts,” he reasoned, grabbing the toy.
“Actually, I do,” you corrected.
You watched him lick the toy - his tongue tracing over the head. You knew he liked using his spit as lube, even when he used lube.
He caught your right ankle and pulled you to the very edge of the bed and started working the girth of the toy in.
You sighed and shifted your hips - not exactly trying to help. He glanced up, knowingly.
You cried out once before it was finally seated - this slightly alien-shaped toy. It sat fully inside you, exactly the way he wanted.
The way you wanted, if you admitted it.
And then you watched him produce a remote. And the vibration started. You gasped hard - shocked at the sensation.
You dropped back on the bed in response - the feeling was too intense and good. You let yourself go - no pretense over the time of the morning or anything else - you just let the quick orgasm hit you. Your hips shaking and bucking.
He teased you, playing with your slick. You watched him trace his fingers through and then bring it to his lips, licking his fingers clean. Your thighs squeezed together tightly. You loved when he confirmed what you knew about him - he loved how messy you could be.
It made your mouth water sometimes, knowing him.
You smiled, knowing it was what he liked. He’d admitted it at some point - he loved eating your pussy - but he also just loved your pussy, the taste, the way you always slicked his fingers and cock.
He reached down, parting your thighs again and fucking the toy in and out of you a few times, listening to the sounds and finally getting it just right.
You sat up after a moment of his stillness. You tested crossing and uncrossing your legs. “See it?”
He nodded.
You let your legs open wider. “Now?”
He nodded. “So good - fuck if you left a puddle in the seat, I think I’d really lose it,” he murmured.
You smiled. “So you're keeping the remote, I guess?”
He gave a quick smirk. “Maybe?”
He dialed something around, and you felt it hit your pussy hard and thrum down your back and down through your toes.
He swapped the setting, and you fell back onto your back with a cry, hands grabbing your crotch like you needed to hold back something. “Oh - god — oh, fuck - Mingyu, Mingyu—“ you whined and jerked and pulled it out, letting your pussy spasm and spurt.
And then you let yourself lie back as your breathing slowed. “If you do that in class - I’ll kill you,” you mumbled.
He grinned. “That’s not for class, lovely,” he said, pulling the toy from you and immediately working back in with one quick thrust. Your pussy walls fluttered around it.
“You’re just so wet for me - no one else,” he mumbled, kissing your cheek and the tip of your nose. "And you're so beautiful like this," he whispered, kissing your temple.
You felt the vibrator start again, a gentle throb that had you purring for him. He nuzzled your throat. "That's right, baby," he mumbled, and the vibrator shifted down to something like a gentle thrum. "Think you can handle that until my office hours?" He was asking genuinely.
He leaned away, waiting for you. You closed your eyes for a moment, focusing on it. "What's it like one down from this?" You asked.
You felt it shift down again, a manageable hum. You nodded. "That, for now," you mumbled, reaching up and smoothing his hair.
"Yeah? Until this afternoon?"
You nodded. "Can I come?"
He smirked. "Big girls don't come in the middle of Physics II, do they?" He asked, voice already annoying and peevish.
You shook your head.
You felt his fingers trace along your lips - his thumb pushed between your lips. You sucked gently. "You're a big girl, aren't you?" He asked softly.
You nodded, still sucking his thumb.
•••
He left before you finished dressing, snapping a photo of you lying on the bed, looking out the window, feeling the low hum in your low stomach. The “before,” as he put it.
You’d sat up and flipped him off. “Idiot,” you mumbled, even if you knew you were half his camera roll.
He’d kissed your shoulder and skipped off to prepare for class. You’d shaken your head, wondering how you were somehow on the receiving end of Mingu’s fantasies. Besides the obvious - your brother meeting him in second grade and maintaining strong social bonds or whatever.
That was the way to having a vibrator seated fully in your cunt for half a day - strong social bonds.
You groaned and figured using the time before you needed to leave for class to get used to the feeling was a good idea. You walked around the apartment, noticing how it moved with you. There was some extra friction, but not as much as you’d assumed.
It was consistent and fully pressed against your cervix.
Mingyu had been gone for maybe 15 minutes. It wasn’t that intense.
You grabbed your phone, thinking of asking him to change the setting to see how it felt - but you didn’t. This was probably already enough, but you were still willing to test it when it came to him and the things he asked for - you always had been.
You rolled your eyes at yourself and started getting dressed before you got yourself into something even deeper.
•
You did wear a shorter skirt. Not a mini, just short enough for him to enjoy when you were in his office. You could already imagine his hands tracing along the backs of your thighs, squeezing gently.
You knew the hall the class was in - the auditorium was massive. He’d struggle to see anything in the stadium-style seating. But he couldn’t say you hadn’t tried to bring his dreams to life.
His perverted dreams, you thought with a smile. Such a cute pervert, though.
You knew he wouldn’t change the setting during class. He’d wait until his office hours, when you were alone in the semi-dark, wood-paneled room, the blinds closed, the warm afternoon light filtering in, the soft smell of leather and old books that weren’t his. Then he’d be evil with it, you smiled again, imagining the double penetration potential.
And then you left for class.
•
Walking was fine. Sitting was fine.
And by the time you were on the bus headed to class - everything was fine.
But you were starting to get fairly wet by the time you sat down for class.
You could feel the stickiness of it. You imagined people could hear it when you shifted around next to them and knew that you were letting your pussy be treated like a slutty secret pouch for some unknown boy’s own personal pornographic dreams.
You pursed your lips and watched Mingyu walk in and set up at the podium. You sighed softly, knowing he wouldn’t make eye contact during class. He’d look everywhere but at you.
Which was fine.
No one needed to know that you and he were a thing. Plus, it meant you got to hear the gossip around him. People whispering how hot he looked - that he should either work out more or less - that shirts should be optional for professors and assistants - and the persistent guessing around how big his dick was.
You’d been in a seminar he taught before any of this. You’d heard the rumors.
All of it still made you smile to yourself.
Because you knew he had a gorgeous dick, not an infinity dick that required worm holes or something. You loved the speculation, though. And generally refused to tell Mingyu unless he chased you around your apartment and tackled you.
Then you’d spill the beans. Or maybe after fighting a little longer - his grip was never rough, and sometimes you’d lick a fat stripe of spit on his cheek and go limp. He’d yet to be genuinely frustrated with you or your antics.
He was an anomaly in that, but he’d known you since you were a Kindergartener. So maybe that mattered too, since you used to lie in the grass and wonder if knowing him was like some soul-based curse. You knew him in a past life and couldn’t escape it.
You had been sitting through half the lesson.
Your pussy was worse than wet - you could feel how slick it was every time you shifted in your seat. You looked like someone who needed a wee - desperate. You had to focus and squeeze your pelvic floor muscles. Your nails dug into the underside of the small desk.
You sneaked a quick moment to text Mingyu.
[y/n]
u kno i will need you to explain everything again
u doubled ur dreariness
You saw him check his phone quickly at the podium. You saw the slight smirk.
Bitch.
He kept teaching.
And you kept shifting around because every position felt dangerous. Your pussy had felt fine, but it had been building and building and it felt like you were on an exceedingly dangerous ledge.
You squeezed your thighs tight, trying to manage it. You glanced at the clock, just 12 minutes.
You could hold it for 12 minutes without dry humping your chair like a dog in heat. You could.
It was mental. Mental to be doing. Mental that you’d let that moron at the front with the infinity dick talk you into this situation.
You clamped your pussy tightly and crossed your legs as hard as you could.
You wanted to think unsexy thoughts - but Mingyu ruined that too because the harder you dug your nails into the formica of the desk, the more you knew that you wouldn’t stop because it was him - he had planned it and asked, and he looked so cute and pathetic for you.
And you wanted to at some level - you wanted to be good enough to take it.
You hated that you wanted to hold it.
You wanted to hold it because he’d put it there and he’d checked and he’d done everything except mention how it would feel to have the same endless vibration for around two and a quarter hours.
You wanted to scream.
But you didn’t.
And you didn’t dare move because that was basically giving up.
You’d get him back. You’d use your vibrator on his cock until he yelped and begged and came dry.
Or maybe you’d finally peg him, which was debatable as to whether he would even be annoyed by it.
He was so annoyingly yours all because of the holiday break and every break before that, where you’d flirted and bratted and always let him talk you into things.
You knew your panties were a wreck, barely containing your slick. The fabric was more than damp, you could feel it sticking to your skin.
And the small vibrations were starting to get to you as the class wound down, right to the last second. Mingyu wasn’t ending early.
But he didn’t let the class run over either. The girl who always had 15 extra questions - she got the “let’s talk after class.” Which meant she had maybe 30% of his attention as he packed his bag.
And when you could finally stand, it was a partial relief, less pressure. But the vibrations were still real and still happening.
You were glad his building was close. You were quick getting there - grabbing the faster bus and forcing your way into the tight jam of other students. Fuck them if they eyed you.
You got off at the mid-century shit pile his office was in. You weren’t about to give him or his space any credit in the moment.
You took the stairs, not the elevator. And if needed, you would break into his office just so you could come on his fucking desk.
The absolute prick.
He appeared quickly, though. No students or faculty trialing him.
He didn’t look at you immediately as he unlocked the door. You were leaning against the wall, looking annoyed, which was the perfect look for him at all times.
He managed to unlock everything, flick on the lights, and go in to drop his bag.
You stood, waiting for him to invite you in like a vampire waiting to be allowed to pass a threshold. It was his office. He was a TA.
You couldn’t literally walk in without someone calling it out.
You’d listened to him talk anxiously about his position often enough.
You heard the soft sounds of him crossing the room.
“You can come in,” he said, still avoiding eye contact.
You slipped under his arm and stood off to the side, next to a small sofa some ancient person had left when they retired.
He closed the door gently and stepped over to his desk. He sat on the edge and held a had out to you.
You stalled for a moment because it felt like giving in, even if it was starting to be uncomfortable even while standing.
Not uncomfortable precisely. Intense. Maybe a squat would stop it, you considered idly.
He waited like he knew there was something going on in your mind. You huffed because you hated that too. His confidence of knowing you.
He didn’t. He still had no idea that you had stolen his bag of halloween candy in 5th grade. You were just an innocent third grader - you couldn’t mastermind anything.
You held out in the soft silence for enough time that he offered his hand again, dark brows drawn together. You shook your head.
You watched the way he licked his lips, thinking. “Come here,” he said finally, gently. “Please,” he added, voice almost silent.
You pursed your lips. You were standing awkwardly, squeezing your thighs and inner muscles. And he had said ‘please.’ And part of you still want to refuse.
You watched him walk over.
He came to stand behind you, his hands sliding over your hips and taking hold of the hem of your skirt, he pulled it up with one hand while his other arm wrapped tightly around your waist. He nipped gently at your throat and nuzzled against you.
“You are a brat, you know?”
You nodded, letting your head drop back on his shoulder. You heard yourself gasp as he pulled the vibrator out and pushed the button to stop it.
You felt his fingers slide in and the moment he found that inner spot, you felt your knees give. He caught you. “Shhh, just let go,” he whispered against your temple. “It's okay - just come.”
And you did.
You came hard and fast. And then a second time and a third and you finally stated to feel relief, even when his hand was tight over your mouth and you were licking his palm, tasting sweat and metal and chalk.
Your hips bucked hard the last time. You were dripping and wrecked. He picked you up and put you on the sofa.
A blanket appeared from some cupboard. And wipes. He was careful with everything. Always.
Even the stupid juice box he gave you, as he smoothed hair from your forehead.
But the best part was when he pushed his thumb past your lower lip, making small circles against your tongue.
You purred then, barely sucking.
He kissed you cheeek as you started to sleep.
You knew he’d just grade papers or something boring.
a/n: hope it was fun - thx for reading with me - obvs this is a series now
>>>> it starts in the back of the threatre and ends up on a lovers lane in the dark dark of the night
warnings: smut (under break)
pairing: l.ty x f!reader
word count: 1.2k
tags: alternate universe, non-idol, car s3x, semi-public
warnings: explicit language, fingering, hand job, penetrative sex, implied overstim
the car is a good starting point because it's the kind of thing that starts at a red light, his hand shifting from the gear stick to the console, fingertips finding your thigh, the gentle little rolling tap and then the sensation of his fingers tracing down to your inner thigh.
your breath slows, you bite your lip softly because his fingers linger there, making little circles against your skin. you glance at his hand, watching the way the circles stop and his fingers start to shift higher along your skin.
you swallow in anticipation of touch. you close your eyes for a moment and turn like you're glancing out the window - you keep your eyes closed, feeling the warmth of him as he moves closer. you shift your legs open just a fraction as he drives, the rainy world outside slides past you.
but it's slowing.
you can feel the downshift. the change from pavement to the soft crunch on gravel under the tires. your eyes slit open to see a park - darkened, only one light at the entrance. he drives to the end, passing all the tennis courts that look a little grown over. your stomach flutters, knowing that when the car stops, you'll have all his attention.
the end of the parking lot is dark, tree-lined. no one would even see his sleek black car. you felt the soft stop of the car - he parked, killing the lights.
and you feel his fingers again, the gentle way they guide you to turn your head, to face him - he's already close, lips almost brushing yours.
"good?" he asks, voice low.
you nod, leaning closer, feeling your lips on his again.
it had started in the theatre.
sitting in the back, the dark, the fact that everyone else in the room was staring at the screen and not the fact that your hand had disappeared under the hem of his t-shirt - no one knew that you played with the thick waistband of his boxers, slipping one finger and then another underneath, wanting to feel the hard line of his hip.
You were turned towards him, leaned close, head almost on his shoulder - he'd turned and kissed you, turning in his seat just enough that you slid your hand past his waistband and down to his cock. he licked into you then, urging you on. you stroked him a few times before you heard a sound, something like a huff that made you still completely.
he'd broken the kiss then, lips brushing your ear instead. "we should go," he murmured.
you'd left to find it raining. but you really weren't done. it wasn't late.
you kissed him harder now, licking into him, tasting - his hand was between your legs now, cupping you through your shorts - you gave a hurried roll of your hips. the heel of his hand pressed harder against your clit, you groaned softly against his lips, barely breaking the kiss. "can we?" you asked.
he pressed into you again, kissing softly, lips warm on yours. he moved, giving you room to climb into the back seat - he followed you. he sat in the middle seat - you straddled him, arms looping around his shoulders, as you ducked down to kiss him, rough and deep. you moaned, your hips working against him. you could feel his hands on your ass, grabbing, not guiding.
you slid your hand down, letting your fingers catch in his shirt again, pulling it up so you could feel the heat of his stomach, the way his muscles flexed beneath your touch. you rushed ahead, biting his lower lip, hearing the small hiss.
and then you were on your back - your thighs closed, his fingers working the button and zipper of your shorts quickly and then pulling them away in one quick motion. and then he was back, kissing you hard, the pressure intense and his fingers sliding in - two fingers that made you gasp softly as they worked deep. you knew you were wet - you could feel it - that telltale slickness of being ready to fuck.
his fingers worked deeper, opening you. your thighs tightened around his waist, the way he turned his wrist, moving his fingers around inside - you yelped, your fingers digging into his shoulder and pulling his hair because how were you suddenly on the edge of an orgasm? how could you hear yourself being fucked into over the sound of the rain on the roof?
your breath came fast - you whined - and then it hit like a wave. you moaned through it, every breath tinged with the way it always felt after - the immediate release of everything - every muscle, every thought. and still his fingers worked you open, wider even. your sounds were almost ambient, as he kissed a line down your throat, lips warm, trailing along the tender skin, licking, sucking, teeth grazing teasingly.
“taeyong,” you murmured.
he hummed against your skin.
he shifted, pulling away to sit up. you watched without moving, the way he pulled his shirt up, catching the hem between his teeth, he opened his jeans and shoved his underwear down, he was already hard, he looked up at you, your pussy, open and wet.
you watched the way his teeth pressed into his lower lip, the soft gasp as he stroked his cock, once - twice, a smirk forming on his lips. and then he leaned down, hips lining up carefully with you, the head of his cock teasing your opening, your clit. you watched him, playing, teasing, and then he was sliding in - all of him, fat and hard - he didn't stop until his hips met yours.
"love when i'm inside you," he mumbled as he kissed you. you reached down, hands moving along his back, feeling the muscle, his low back, his hips - you squeezed, loving the way he felt.
he sat up when he started to move. his hands slid under your ass, lifting your hips just enough to hit the angle that made your breath stutter. and then he held you there, hips working at that endless pace of his - the one he could just keep and you could come and come.
he snapped his hips a little harder, though. you whined - your hands on his pecs now, sliding down his ribs and waist - you could see the focused look.
"that's right, kitten," he whispered, "just like that, watch me."
you nodded, your gaze on him. he snapped his hips harder, harder - you wound your fingers in his shirt, your nails just finding his skin, digging in - you were so close - so fucking close.
and then the sudden snap of everything, your eyes closing, your mouth forming sounds, your pussy clenching, fluttering, clamping down so hard. you heard his gasp and felt the way he kept going.
"so good for me," he said, his thumb pressing into your mouth, you sucked without thinking, his pace less coherent, sloppier, faster and then you felt it, the sudden fullness deep inside and the way he slowed, his head tilting, his breathing low and needy. his hips rolled a few more times, slow, languid.
>>>you're in heat and taeyong smells so good, assuming yuta hasn't scared him away
warnings: smut (under break)
pairing: l.ty x f!reader
tags: omegaverse (a/b/o); alpha!taeyong; college au; yuta is a menance
warnings: explicit language, fingering, penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, knotting, taeyong fucks intensely as he should
Being a sigma was kind of annoying.
Not exactly an omega. And definitely not an alpha.
It meant having a heat that you could mostly control with meds. And a scent that was somewhere on the floral side, instead of being cloying and sweet.
It also meant being thankful for a friend like Yuta.
He could glare at other alphas and any omegas who asked dumb questions about the “sigma” girl. And it always worked.
So what if he slid his arm around your waist sometimes? Or gave you chaste little kisses? Faux possessiveness didn’t bother you. It was the alphas who actually leered in that hungry-looking way who were the problem.
Maybe there were some downsides, though.
At least when it came to Taeyong.
You were both studying art, and you’d once thought he was maybe flirting with you.
No, he was definitely flirting with you in the library - right up until Yuta sat next to you, throwing an arm casually around your shoulders and kissing your cheek.
“Hi,” he whispered.
You glanced at him, staring daggers at the interruption. “Hi,” you huffed.
You wanted to kick him.
When you glanced at Taeyong, he looked like he’d gone through an internal reboot.
He didn’t flirt again.
⋆⭒˚.⋆
You elbowed Yuta later. “Why did you do that?” You hissed.
“Do what?” He asked with a giggle that told you he knew what he’d done.
“Interrupt!”
He shrugged, a smile forming on his lips. “Honestly, I wasn’t really thinking about — Hey - hey!” he caught your hand before you could thump his forehead. “I didn’t mean to startle him or whatever.”
You snorted, relaxing your hands away from him. “Fine,” you relented. “But he’s cute and - we were talking,” you pouted.
He shrugged, punching keys on the vending machine you’d stopped at. “He’s a big boy - just message him or something - tell him the truth - we’re friends.” He said it casually, like it was so easy.
You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, maybe.” You kicked at the stupid tile floor - a truly petty display.
“Isn’t he like a TA too?” He asked. You could hear the best friend tone leaking in - the one that was encouraging and rational. So rude.
“Yeah,” you mumbled.
“Right, so just explain to him that we’re friends, and that you’re, you know, desperately down to clown—”
That time, he couldn’t block the smack to his arm. “Desperately? Fuck off,” you muttered as he rubbed his arm.
He looked at you like he was truly wounded instead of nursing a light slap.
“I’m not desperate,” you whispered vehemently.
He rolled his eyes, snatching his candy bar from the vending machine and walking away. “Right - you’re totally not desperate for Lee Taeyong,” he giggled over his shoulder and ran ahead of you.
You’d have to chase him if you wanted revenge.
But you didn’t. Not really.
Because he wasn’t wrong.
If there was an alpha whose attention you wanted, it was definitely Taeyong.
⋆⭒˚.⋆
You did see him around.
You saw him in the TA lab when you were grading for one of the art history classes.
You weren’t even sure what class Taeyong graded for, which could have been something that you asked him about if he didn’t look like he wanted to yeet himself out a window when you walked too close.
And you saw him at a few parties.
He looked jumpy every single time, even when Yuta wasn’t around. It was like you’d been claimed and mated or something.
Which just made it bothersome when you were sitting in the lab late on a Thursday night before a holiday, and your heat was starting to flare. You had been ignoring it for a few days.
You didn’t have time for it.
But your body wasn’t listening.
And you hadn’t exactly explained to Yuta why you had even noticed Taeyong - like yes, cute boy - pretty boy - but it was also his scent - fresh water, with just the tiniest note of citrus under it.
You’d smelled it all afternoon - it was like being seated next to a river, just flowing away like that was its only job. You’d left to get dinner just to try to clear your mind.
But Taeyong was still there when you came back. And the smell of something fried and sugary could only do so much to block out the scent that you seemed to be craving.
You tried to focus on what was in front of you — some guy who thought he was smart by submitting a photo of a rubber duck as his response to a question about the motifs in a Dürer painting.
You could hear shuffling behind you.
You didn’t glance back.
The shuffling went on…and on.
Shuffling became rustling.
“You okay?” You finally asked.
You’d noticed the way his scent had been shifting all afternoon. The citrus seemed to have hit a point of no return, peaking, bright and tart.
“No, just - long day,” he muttered.
You hummed, knowing the feeling. “Yeah, really long,” you muttered.
It was very quiet. You closed your eyes for a moment, thinking about telling him what you’d been meaning to tell him.
“You know Yuta and I aren’t like a thing, right?” You’d just blurted it out like an idiot.
The room seemed to get even quieter, and then a small “Oh.”
You waited, even though you were starting to feel like you were surrounded by orange blossoms.
“So you’re not like taken?”
You paused, thinking, and finally smiling. “Taken?” You parroted back. “No.”
You were both quiet then. Like the information needed to settle between you.
The little click-clack of keys soon resumed.
You both had papers to grade.
But in a moment of total madness, you somehow managed to ask if he was close to his rut.
The room was so silent, you could hear him breathe, soft inhales and exhales. “I didn’t think so until this afternoon.”
You nodded. “Your scent changed…” Your voice trailed off like neither of you were connecting any dots.
He exhaled. “Are you? You’re more—” he cut himself off.
You could feel heat rising in your face. “I keep trying to push it away,” you whispered.
It was true. Besides, your heats weren’t as ‘intense’ as an omega’s.
At least that’s what you’d read in some medical journal.
“Sigma heats were observed to be less intense…” yada yada yada.
But less intense to whom was what you always wondered. They weren’t less intense to you.
Your hormones still spiked, and your body still cramped like your muscles wanted to pull away from your bones.
And alpha scents suddenly became overwhelming. Their scent, their sweat, their breath, even.
But Taeyong’s wasn’t overwhelming.
It didn’t make your head swim. It didn’t make you sneeze. And it didn’t make your stomach flip around in a concerning way.
Taeyong’s scent was calming. And that was a new one on you.
The citrus had shifted from tart to sweet - blood oranges came to mind.
Actually, Taeyong came to mind - him eating wedges of blood orange off the edge of a knife, the bright juice staining his lips, dripping down his slender fingers, down the back of his hand - you licked your lips - you paused in grading.
You’d never really had a fantasy about an alpha. Not like this. Not sudden and out of the ether.
You knew their scents could trigger things, but the idea of Lee Taeyong erotically popping a wedge of fruit in his mouth was making you flush really, really hard just then.
And that the idea had just suddenly appeared in your thoughts, like it had always been there, like it wasn’t new or unexpected was…jarring, maybe?
You weren’t sure.
You’d barely finished grading when you heard him sigh from behind you. You waited for a moment, listening to him rustle around.
You glanced back to see him leaning over his notes, checking something before going back to his grading.
“Don’t stare,” he murmured.
You flushed, looking back at your now black computer screen. He’d almost sounded like he had the night in the library before Yuta had put in his appearance.
You waited, pressing your lips into a line, trying to get a grip on the stupid things your heat made you want to say.
“Do you have many left?” You asked - it felt like the least insane ask.
He shook his head. “Two more,” he sighed.
It was almost quiet.
“Why?” He asked. He’d stopped grading, but he didn’t turn back.
You pressed the tip of your tongue between your teeth. “Um, just—“ you paused, shifting in your seat, wondering how you said what you wanted to say.
He waited a moment, like he knew you were buffering. “If you hang around, there’s a noodle place I like when my ruts hit…”
You hummed. “Good noodles?” You managed.
He nodded. “Amazing noodles,” he whispered.
You pressed your lips into a line. “And after?”
You stared at the ground, shocked that you had asked.
“I don’t have roommates.” His voice was inviting, smooth.
You smiled. “So, in the spirit of openness and all that, it’s my heat and your rut and you’ve suggested dinner and let me know that you don’t have roommates?” You wanted to check the facts.
“Umhm,” he responded.
“Right,” you mumbled, knowing you were at least on the same page.
⋆⭒˚.⋆
The noodles were perfect.
The place was small, but neat and homey somehow. You wondered if it was the exposed brick or the wooden floors. Or maybe just the wooden bowls and the view of the river from the bar you were seated at.
There was no rush about eating. No chat, either.
There was something about the shop that suggested quiet contemplation.
And that was fine.
On the train though, you found yourself standing closer and closer to Taeyong.
Every stop seemed to be an excuse to inch closer until you felt his fingers barely catch under the hem of your sweater.
He leaned close. You could feel his lips ghost the shell of your ear. The touch was so small, and it still set off fluttering under your ribs.
His fingers slid under your sweater, tracing small patterns - his skin somehow warmer than your own.
You noticed it when his head jerked at the sound of the intercom. You smiled, knowing he’d almost let you both miss his stop.
You followed him out of the underground and down the street. You’d felt his fingers twine with yours when you stepped onto the train platform - he didn’t let go, even when you were both in his building’s elevator.
Instead, he leaned in close, lips brushing yours tentatively, then pressing fully. The kiss would have read as chaste to anyone else. But you could taste him - the way citrus was overwhelming water notes.
His need tasted sweet and tart.
You licked your lips when he pulled away, wanting to savor him.
You knew you were in the art district - you were still surprised by the loft space.
Taeyong had managed a balance between maximalism and minimalism that you found intriguing. He had too many books, but they were all neatly shelved along a tall wall.
There was an oversized chesterfield sofa on a plush, cream rug. A single rubber tree had spread along the left wall, tall and wide, but not unkempt.
Even old leaves shone.
The entire space was an open floor plan. The kitchen was a sizable, galley style. Across from it sat a long wooden table with a few chairs and a bench for seating.
There was one massive painting - it looked informed by modern styles, but didn’t seem to be adhering to any artist you could name. You still stopped to stare at it for a moment while Taeyong chucked his bag into the hall closet.
You were still staring at it when he came to join you - he stood behind you, his hands finding your hips. You felt the kiss that landed on your shoulder.
“Mmmh,” you responded.
“Like it?” He asked.
You nodded. “I can’t figure out who it’s by though,” you admitted.
His lips brushed the back of your neck. “He’s kind of niche,” Taeyong whispered.
You nodded, reaching back for him, then turning back, letting your lips find his in the low light filtering in from the tall windows.
The kiss lasted, gaining heat.
His hands gripped you and guided you back towards the table. You grinned when you felt the backs of your legs connect with the table.
“Sorry,” he murmured.
“It’s fine,” you smiled, enjoying the easy way he picked you up, sitting you on the table’s edge.
“It’s me, by the way - the painter,” he added as his lips met yours again.
He wasn’t hesitant when he moved between your legs or when he tipped your head back just enough to deepen the kiss.
His scent filled your lungs with every breath. You rolled your hips against his. He moaned, his hands tracing along your thighs, squeezing them. His hips moved against yours.
You broke the kiss gently, leaning back on the table. You took deep breaths, reaching out, your fingertips finding the little line of exposed skin between his sweater and the waistband of his jeans.
You let your hand slide under the soft fabric, feeling heat and muscle just beneath soft skin. You heard the small catch in his breath.
You glanced up, noticing the way his eyes slid closed.
You let your fingers splay against his skin. His eyes opened slowly, his gaze warm.
“I should show you my room.” His voice landed gently, soft heat that found its way to your stomach, pooling there.
You nodded, smiling as you sat up and followed him.
It was different - the way you felt. It wasn’t that you always spent your heats alone because you didn’t.
You unequivocally did not.
But besides the small heat twinges building, there was something sweet about stripping off your shirt. Like you were giving Taeyong more skin to work with.
‘Giving’ felt different.
Playfully stripping felt different too. Especially when he returned the favor. His clothes collecting off the edge of the bed with your own.
You smiled at the scattering of tattoos that greeted you.
You kissed each one before finally kissing him again, not caring when positions swapped. You pulled him closer, feeling his hand slide lower, and lower. Until you felt his fingers parting you.
His fingers traced through slick and wetness, teasing you. You moaned against his lips and felt his fingers press inside.
You heard his small gasp at the feeling.
“Good?” You asked, trying to sound coy, but already sounding breathless.
He grinned, answering with a kiss, deepening it quickly. Your hands traced through his hair, pulling gently, knowing you were about to come.
And then you did, wet heat coated his fingers as you relaxed back into the bed, gasping softly.
You watched the way he used your come, slicking himself before pressing in. Like he knew your refractory period was nanoseconds.
You gasped when his hips met yours, knowing he was fully seated. You ran your hands down his chest and stomach, breathing hard, realizing how full you were.
“Yeah?” He asked.
You nodded. “Yea - yeah,” you stuttered.
And then he moved. Your eyes fluttered closed. You whimpered at how good it felt.
How good he felt. How deep you could feel him.
He was so cute in class - your mind might have wandered down that path if Taeyong were anyone else. But the way he moved, fluid and controlled - your mind snapped back into the moment.
You focused on him - the way he looked, so intent, his eyes closing for a moment as he lost himself in you and the moment.
And then he set a quick pace.
You arched off the bed. Your hands drifted to your breasts, teasing your nipples while he held your hips in place.
Then he tilted your hips, hitting deeper than before. You cried out.
“Fuck,” you whined, your hands shifting, grasping the cool sheets under you.
He snapped his hips, his breath evening out, like a runner who found the right stride.
You had the feeling he could just stay in it - this pace, this moment, he could last his entire rut just like this.
Not you.
You were closer than you knew, coming undone twice before he came the first time.
You stayed there after the fact, full, and knotted. He moved so he was on his back and you were spread across him.
It was easy to fall asleep.
And just as easy to wake for more.
a/n: hiii i'm nico and this issss me writing taeyong bcs i can't be depressed and ty makes me not depressed so here we are - new blogs lets goooo TT-TT
okieee let me know if this was at least fun tho bcs i do kind of thing he would be like the sweetest and best freak like in my heart - he is yk
xx
nico(lettuce)
p.s i write for svt too so if you notice another nicolettuce out there - it is me ^^
