Artem Wing Smut - Tumblr Posts

my overindulgent take on the 2nd anniversary ssr (playlist) also on ao3

rating: explicit word count: 4488 content: afab reader (gender neutral), first time, very attentive artem wing, oral (both receiving), lots of tension, unprotected "activities"

mdni.

his lips are on yours before you even fully pass the threshold into his apartment, hands fumbling to drop his keys and flip the light on without separating from your skin. you scramble to grab hold of something, settling for his fingers as you ground yourself and press yourself against him, relishing in the sensation of his tongue on your own. your mind is blank, unable to think, unable to do much of anything but respond to the man above you as he steals the breath from your lungs.

“can i... can i push my greed a bit further?” artem’s lips are at your ear, and his voice, a low and husky whisper you’ve never heard from him before, has heat racing down to your core. from all the time you’d spent with him, you’d believed that you’d seen all sides to artem wing. throughout your investigations in the NXX, as well as from being his partner both in work and in romance, you prided yourself on being able to see right through him. but now, with his voice hoarse with lust and his bright blue eyes holding your gaze as though he wants to eat you alive, you realize that you’ve made a grave error in your assumptions.

no, you don’t know all there is to discover about artem. but you’re desperate to become more acquainted.

“you haven’t answered me.”

artem’s voice comes out in a whisper as he takes in your disheveled form, the heave of your chest and the swollen state of your reddened lips, the fact that he is the reason behind your downright sinful appearance. his breathing is heavy and his fingers tremble with exertion as he holds himself back from moving a muscle until he has your permission to do so. but then you’re nodding wordlessly at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulder, and suddenly all else is lost on him.

a shaky moan falls from your lips unbidden as he lowers his head to your neck, his teeth worrying your skin and leaving lovebites in their wake. his fingers tighten their grip on your waist and hold you even closer, his rapid heartbeat seeming to meld with your own. then, abruptly, he’s pulling away with an airy laugh, pressing his forehead to yours.

“what is it?” your voice sounds pathetic even to your own ears.

artem chuckles again. “i.. i’d originally wanted to take this slow with you. to build up to it, i guess. but now..” he lifts his head slightly, gently brushes his thumb over your cheek. “now, i’m not sure if i can.”

his admission nearly knocks the air from your lungs. 

“then.… then don’t.” 

your response is immediate and barely audible, but of course artem hears it. his eyes widen slightly and he silently searches your face for any sign of hesitation, but when he finds none, the corners of his lips turn up into a smile before he presses them almost frantically against yours once more.

you feel yourself being gently guided backwards until there’s the press of a wall against your back, dampened by one of artem’s hands. the other slides down your side to land on your thigh, hiking it upwards until your ankle rested on his hip to provide him the space to slot his leg between yours.

your gasp at the contact quickly morphs into a wanton moan as you process his clothed thigh pressed against your core. he’s resumed his assault along your neck, this time placing sloppy kisses over your sensitive skin, the feeling of his tongue making you shiver as his hand travels towards your chest. he squeezes gently, only enough to get your attention, and only adding more pressure when you tug him closer. he shifts to acquiesce, his leg inadvertently sliding higher underneath you; a foggy and distant part of your brain begins to realize how wet you’re getting and you scramble to warn him: “a-artem mmmh! your.… y-your pants are gonna-“

“leave them.” his tone leaves no room for debate and he clutches you tighter. your mind is reeling, his every move throwing you for a loop with the only thing keeping you afloat being the fingers you have anchored in his hair. your hips begin to buck forward of their own accord, and though you’re embarrassed you can’t seem to stop yourself. artem doesn’t seem to mind; in fact, your reactions almost spur him on, his ministrations becoming more insistent as your movements grow more urgent.

artem’s every touch feels like fire that causes the pressure in your core to build embarrassingly quickly. your voice has devolved into tiny, pitiful whimpers, pitch and volume rising the closer you get to your peak, and when you feel artem’s tongue on the shell of your ear you think you might shatter. but then you notice a dull-but-noticeable strain in your thigh that breaks straight through the haze in your mind. you try to ignore it, to subtly shift into a more comfortable position to not lose grip of the orgasm that was just on the precipice, but your squirming does little to impede the discomfort—

“here, hold on.” artem places a gentle kiss to your temple before pulling away, smiling fondly with a small laugh as you whine in protest of the loss. “your legs are getting tired in this position, right?”

before you have a chance to ponder how the hell he’s always so perceptive, your center of gravity shifts unexpectedly as you’re lifted into the air by artem, his strong arms holding you tightly against his body. you squeal loudly, your arms flying to wrap around his neck.

“i can walk, artem.” you mumble the words into the crook of his neck. “you don’t have to carry me.”

“i know. i want to.”

and so you fall silent as artem quietly carries you bridal style to the bedroom. he places you gently on your feet in front of the bed before turning you around to have view of your back as you feel a gentle touch at the zipper of your dress. the powder blue fabric is gingerly peeled from your frame, followed tentatively by your underwear, until you stand bare before him. you want this, you’re certain of it, but something you can’t explain aloud makes you curl into yourself a bit, makes your arms fly up to cover your chest. his heated gaze runs over your bare shoulders over your back, then gently rests a hand on your shoulder to coax you into facing him once more. when you meet his eyes, he’s smiling softly down at you, a gentle flush of red painted across his cheeks.

“don’t be nervous,” he says gently. “we don’t have to do anything if you’re uncomfortable.”

your heart swells so much you feel it may burst.

“no, i want this,” you say; the words come out steadier than any others you’ve spoken all night. “i want you .” you emphasize the declaration by placing your hands at his waist, yanking the fabric of his shirt from being tucked into his slacks.

he doesn’t need to be told twice.

its unclear when artem shed his jacket, but at least that’s one layer down, leaving him to make quick work of his tie instead. at your insistence, he leaves the task of undressing the rest of his garments to you; such was his honor with you, after all. as you slowly work through the buttons of his dress shirt, you feel a shift in the air that urges you to look up at artem’s face. his blue eyes are hooded as he gazes down at your exposed form, his breathing slightly more labored. you feel your throat go dry from the intensity of his stare and suddenly you’re in a trance, not breaking eye contact with him as your fingers tug at the remaining buttons of his shirt. his fingers twitch beside him as he steels himself once more against the urge to take you into his arms; lacking the same self-restraint, you rush through the final two buttons, hurriedly tugging the garment from his shoulders to allow him to do exactly as he craves.

you reach to free him of his slacks but he instead clutches your face in his hands, crashing his lips to yours with fervor— there will be time for that later, it seems. you’re nearly breathless as he’s pulling away with peppered kisses to your jaw and neck, tongue trailing across your neck as he slides further down your body, committing the taste of your skin to memory. his mouth falls over your breast and you cry out, cradling his face in your hands as you feel your knees buckle a bit, sending you falling backward onto the bed. hands at your back and cradling your head cushion your fall, and after a brief kiss to your lips, artem continues his journey down the path of your body, stopping only once he reaches the apex of your thighs.

you have approximately three seconds to process what’s about to happen, during which you rapidly cycle through the full spectrum of human emotion, and then you feel his tongue timidly slide over your clit, then again with more confidence. your form goes rigid as you keen high in your throat, legs subconsciously inching closed until met with artem’s strong hands. he holds you open as he eats you like a man starved, tongue exploring every inch of you to discover what makes you fall apart the most. your back starts to arch away from the mattress and you reach out with a desperate hand, aiming to take hold in artem’s hair until you pull away almost immediately, scared that you would hurt him. before you manage to pull away completely his hand grabs your wrist, gently returning your fingers to rest at the crown of his head.

the ever-attentive attorney.

you push the guilt back into the recesses of your brain as you clutch artem’s hair like a lifeline, hips rocking against his mouth chasing down the high you’d lost prior. you’re coiled up like a spring, every muscle tensed as you approach your peak, your moans echoing loudly through the room. there’s a gentle prod at your entrance before he coaxes a finger inside you, and a second, somehow knowing exactly how to curl them within you to have you shaking with need.

“a-artem, i-“ you’re so close it hurts, and below you, artem hums his assent, the vibrations against your core drawing a whine from your lips. your eyes fly open and you take in artem’s appearance— the small wisps of hair that cling to a slight sheen of sweat forming on his brow, the alluring shade of crimson dusting his face, and his eyes, staring up at you with an emotion you can’t quite place but feels a lot like wonder. it’s enough to send you hurling over the edge at breakneck speed, curses falling from your lips unrestrained as you jolt sharply in his arms, unable to go far due to his grip on your leg. artem works you through your high, lips and tongue and fingers acting in tandem to milk your pleasure down to the very last drop.

you’re panting by the time he rises from you, for more reasons than one. his hair, assaulted by your grasp, frames his face in disarray, and you can just barely see hints of wetness around his mouth that’s curled into a tender smile as he leans forward to kiss you. marveling in the taste of your arousal on his tongue, you feel an almost carnal desire to please him, to see him as unwound as you felt. so, when he pulls away for air, you mirror what he did to you, trailing your mouth down his torso while occasionally sucking bruises into the delicate skin. you can hear his breath hitch as he puts a hand on your hip, and you use the moment to flip the two of you so that you’re seated atop him. you move your assault lower, and lower, until your gaze level with the gold buckle of his belt. finally you’re able to finish your task and remove the offending garments, very pointedly ignoring the sizable wet spot on the fabric.

and then you pause.

your eyes are locked on the length of him— and length is quite the descriptor. rock hard, almost painfully so, reddened at the tip with a drop of clear liquid threatening to spill over.

right. so that’s what they look like up close.

of course artem once again senses your unease, and tries to cover his embarrassment at being so exposed with an awkward cough. “i- you.. you really don’t have to-“

“i know. i want to.” you flash him a mocking grin, which immediately dissipates when you catch sight of how his chest is heaving already, of the marks on his skin that are starting to bloom from your handiwork.

still, you’re not exactly sure how to go about this. you’ve seen it in porn of course, but doesn’t everyone say that it’s all fake anyway.…? you decide that, like with most things, following artem’s lead is probably the best course of action. you take him into your hands gently before shyly licking a strip from the base to the tip of his length. need begins to pool low in your belly when you hear him inhale sharply, a breath shakily released as he shifts to get more comfortable underneath you. his reaction blesses you with self-assurance and you lean in again, this time wrapping your lips over the tip of him as your tongue glides in gentle circles around him. your reward this time is a soft but very much audible moan alongside a loving hand in your hair. that’s all the encouragement you need.

as you gradually press your way further down artem’s length, you come to learn a number of things. his displays of pleasure aren’t through his voice, though there are moments in which your ears are graced with a soft gasp or broken whimper. instead, artem uses his body. you feel his enjoyment in the twitch of his legs as you manage to slide your warm mouth an inch lower, the jerk of his hips when you learn to hollow your cheeks around him. the fingers at your scalp tighten just once before releasing when you’re finally able to almost take him to the base, as though he desperately wants to hold you still and buck into your mouth with abandon. he’s far too much of a gentleman for that, though, and you’re not quite brave enough to initiate yet, so you settle into a rhythm at your own pace, using his responses as a guide. eventually, you make the fascinating discovery that, even if they’re hard already, some people will stiffen even more right when they’re about to cu-

“w-wait! wait!” a hand is at your jaw before you can move again, gingerly but insistently pulling you up and away from artem’s length. he sounds frantic, eyes wide and skin slick with perspiration. “i didn’t want to.… i was about to.… i-i want..” you hardly hear him over the blood rushing in your ears; you want him so badly the desire threatens to devour you alive.

you lean toward him at the same time he sits up and reaches for you, your lips meeting once again as you place your hands on his shoulders. you’re seated directly on top of him, and artem’s hands fall to your waist, rocking you forward and drawing moans from both of you. rosy crescent moons blossom on his skin as your nails curl into the flesh of his shoulders, the wetness between your legs building with each slide of your hips. he pulls back when your body begins to tremble, gaze desperately searching yours with a silent question, one you can answer with certainty. you nod slowly and artem presses an almost amusingly chaste kiss to your temple before reaching an arm backwards towards the nightstand.

“let me grab a condom,” he says simply; his words are like a record scratch in your brain, filling your stomach with butterflies and your brain with white noise. your hand reaches out to clasp his wrist before you can stop yourself, and you’re unable to meet his eyes when he turns back to look at you.

“i-i mean, we’re already getting married.” you speak so quietly it’s a marvel you can even be heard. “so.. you don’t have to.”

artem says nothing for a while, blinking rather adorably in confusion and shock as he processes your words. he takes a deep breath through his nose, asks you in a quiet voice if you’re sure, to which you assure him that you are. another brief moment of silence, and then he cradles your cheek affectionately.

“alright, if you.… if you’re sure. but there’s something else we need.”

he fumbles around in the bedside drawer before fishing out a small bottle of lubricant. you rise to rest on your knees as he covers himself with it, the quiet hiss he lets out at the contact sending heat straight to your loins, before he places a bit more onto his fingers and reaches for you. not that you feel you need it (you’re already obscenely embarrassed by how drenched you’ve become) but still he makes sure to prepare you, and you certainly aren’t going to refuse letting him touch you again. his hand leaves you far too quickly, but it’s replaced with something different, something stiff and warm and pressing right against your entrance-

it takes all of your willpower and more than a little encouragement from artem to be able to relax when he finally enters you, your whole body going rigid at the foreign intrusion. it’s a tight fit, and there’s no way you can take it all in one go, the stretch already enough to make you wince slightly under your breath. warm hands caress your back as he tries to distract you from the pain, his lips falling gently over your forehead, your nose, your cheeks. 

slowly, you manage to take the majority of him. at first it’s hard to keep air in your lungs and your eyes are tightly scrunched shut, but after a few seconds you’re able to take a deep breath to steady yourself, and the discomfort becomes pretty minimal. to take its place is a pleasure you’ve never known before that licks its way from where your bodies are joined to the top of your head as well as your toes. the flames are fanned even more by artem’s expression, mouth agape as his forehead falls against yours, breathing ragged and heavy.

“you’re okay?” he asks carefully, and you nod almost desperately.

at your approval, he shifts, taking careful hold of your hips as he slides out of you. the drag of him through your walls alone is enough to have your toes curling as you inhale sharply at the unfamiliar feeling. he pulls out until only the tip remains before easing back in inch by inch, the groan you both release in tandem enough to thoroughly embarrass you if you were still lucid enough to care. you’re able to take him to the hilt this time and even though artem wants to give you a moment to adjust you’re immediately asking, begging him to move. you don’t give him time to protest and rock your hips forward, your head flying back as you arch closer into artem’s touch. he takes full advantage and wraps his arms around your waist, mouth finding your collarbone as he begins to thrust upwards into you, holding your legs apart as he becomes mesmerized gazing at the area where your bodies meet.

you realize that you were wrong before— artem may not have been vocal initially, but he sings for you now. he flips you to your back once he notices your legs getting tired, and the salacious groan he gifts you when he enters you again after the readjustment is so sweet you nearly melt into the mattress. a distant part of you feels guilty over the scratches you’re sure will be littered across his back tomorrow, but you can’t help it as he presses into you again and again, stretching you open. you swear you can feel each fervent thrust all the way in your throat as your back bends up towards him; he makes use of the position by running his tongue over your nipple, nibbling at the perky bud and sending a shiver down your spine. 

you feel yourself being repositioned, your pelvis being tilted the slightest bit higher, before he’s pounding into you again. he’s so much deeper at this angle, hitting a spot within you that makes you will yourself not to scream, a plan that’s shattered the moment artem presses his thumb to your clit. you feel delirious as your cries join his in rapturous chorus.

“artem, i-i’m gonna-” your voice shakes when you try your best to warn him.

he can’t even respond, collapsing over your form as he chases his high along with yours, his fingers finding yours and lacing them together. his mouth falls to your ear and he speaks like he’s reciting a mantra, sounding utterly wrecked with his soft whispers about how perfect you are, how lucky he is, how grateful he is…

it’s all more than you can take.

your brain is blind to all but artem’s name as you come a second time, even more like a freight train than the first, electric shocks traveling through your body. your hips buck wildly out of your control, chest heaving as your lungs struggle to maintain any oxygen you take in. artem chokes out a gasp when you tighten around him, his hips stuttering and his fingers pressing almost painfully into your skin. his head settles into the crook of your neck as he finally peaks himself, any noises being muffled into your shoulder. you whimper as he spills thickly into you, the sensation of him twitching inside you making your toes curl as your body shakes from the aftershocks. once you both come down from the cliff, you each have to take a moment to collect yourselves, and the room, now only filled with the sounds of rapid breathing, suddenly feels entirely too quiet.

artem is the first to speak. “i didn’t hurt you, did i?”

“no, i’m fine.” you comb your fingers through his hair comfortingly and grin at your fiancé. fiancé . “better than fine.”

“good. then hold on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“huh- w-wait, artem! ”

there’s no time for you to relax before artem’s lifting you into his arms again, this time heading in the direction of the bathroom. he places you gently in the shower, the cool tile like heaven for your flushed skin, and steps in behind you before busying himself with turning on and adjust the water.

“are you going to carry me everywhere from now on?” you mumble, pouting slightly with embarrassment.

artem chuckles, pauses in his task as he leans forward and leaves a lingering kiss on your shoulder. “indulge me for tonight?”

there’s a sense of elation in his tone that spreads warmth through your bones, any attempts at being stubborn instantly quelled on your tongue. you don’t even deny him the honor of being able to bathe you, resting your head against his shoulder as he massages body wash into your skin, firm hands working the warmth of the water into your muscles. you hear him grab a washcloth that he uses to scrub your skin clean. it’s incredibly relaxing, and you don’t mean to turn to more indecent thoughts, but it’s hard to hide the sharp gasp as you feel artem’s hands travel over the swell of your ass, nails gently scraping against you as he brushes the cloth across your skin. your inner turmoil only increases when he kneels behind you, washing the backs of your legs with the cloth so tantalizingly close to where you want it most, though it never reaches.

when artem stands again you’re fighting to keep your breathing level, your hands in rigid fists at your sides. he reaches around you to wash your front, pouring more body wash into his hands. he presses the cool gel into your collarbones, fingers dancing over the delicate skin, and you feel a tickle at your ear as he leans over your shoulder to observe his work. you bite your lip as he reaches your chest, the duality in the feeling of his hand and the texture of the washcloth enough to make your brain as foggy as the glass that surrounds you.

“a-artem?”

“hmm?”

“where did you- how did you learn to do all this?”

no response from behind you as the hands on your torso freeze, and when you chance a look in his direction, you can see the hints of pink coloring his ears under his hair.

“i’ve…researched.”

you blink.

“r-researched?”

more silence aside from the water hitting your skin. for a moment you forget what’s happening and giggle in spite of yourself.

“i must say i’m surprised, mr. wing.” you turn your head to face him, curl a strand of his hair around your fingers. “tell me, what did this research of yours entail- ah! ”

your teasing dissolves into a startled moan as artem’s free hand suddenly travels down your body to your core, rubbing soft circles around your clit with two slender fingers. he’s watching you now, heated gaze burning into yours as your words die unceremoniously behind your lips; likely for the best, as you won’t turn down another demonstration instead.

——

artem wakes far earlier than you and he gently pries himself from your dreaming form, smiling fondly at your unconscious protest at the separation. satisfied when your breathing evens out, he leaves the bed and grabs the piles of clothes strewn about the room, padding across the apartment to the bathroom to throw the laundry into the machine.

his face grows uncomfortably warm as he spots the stain on the leg of his pants. a part of him admonishes himself for behaving so impulsively, for forgoing all of the plans he’d carefully laid in a single moment of weakness. but then he remembers what he received as a result: the sound of your cries, the feeling of your body under his hands, the look of bliss on your face when he—

best not to continue down that train of thought.

instead, he smiles as he considers you now, his own tiny fragment of forever nestled in his bed, the ring that now adorns your left hand.

artem wing is not a man to often rely on luck, but now? he’s certain he’s the luckiest man alive.