#Luna F(X)

[aurorawritestoescape]

YOUR BOYS || 800 words

Joel Miller x f!reader, Tommy Miller x f!reader

Summary: you’re about to spend the night with the Miller brothers.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, dom/sub dynamic, polyamory, sub Joel, sub Tommy, dom reader, cock ring, cuck chair.

A/n: a drabble, inspired by this ask by @romanarose 💞 aka my first try at writing subby men🫣 kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing😘 Dividers by @saradika-graphics Happy Birthday to Gabriel Luna💕

MASTERLIST

You walk into the bedroom where the brothers are already waiting for you. Joel is standing by the window, he’s tense like a guitar string, impatient, ready to rush to you and do whatever you wish, fulfill your every desire.

Not Tommy though. He’s lounging on the bed, back against the headboard, legs crossed at the ankles, still in his boots. He’s an image of disobedience, wildly different from his brother. He loves to be broken. And you love breaking him.

Joel’s in front of you in a second, his big hands on your hips, puppy eyes fixed on your face, waiting for a command.

“Glad you’re home, my love.”

You reach for his lips and give him a kiss. Your heart is beating loudly in your chest but even through its pounding you hear Tommy’s scoff.

The rivalry between the brothers is delicious, a constant battle for your attention, your love, your pussy.

“Have you been a good boy, Joel?” You ask the older brother, raising your brow, and he replies immediately but without words. With haste fingers he opens his jeans and pulls them down mid-thigh. He’s not wearing anything underneath except for a metal ring around the base of his cock that you told him to put on for your arrival. He’s already getting hard, tip fat and red, his balls pushed up at the base and accentuated by the shiny silver. It’s a sight to see! You anticipated your boys wearing them and Joel’s pushing his chest out proudly, showing you that he’s indeed been a very good boy.

You give him your widest smile and then a longer kiss. Joel moans when your hand grazes his member and you gush at this sound.

Getting impatient you take Joel by the hand and lead him to the bed. Stopping at the foot of the bed you glare at Tommy and your cold voice rings in the quiet bedroom.

“Take your boots off my bed. Now.”

Your tone is full of steel and disappointment. Tommy’s eyes get dark. He loves testing you, loves when you degrade him. The praise is always sweeter after a little bit of scolding. He smirks but moves his feet off the bed and then bucks his hips. ‘Is the brat getting hard?’ you wonder. Or is he taunting you with another act of disobedience.

“Show me,” you command, pointing at his crotch with your chin. Tommy takes his time, unzipping his jeans, and then he pulls his cock and balls out. His member is semi hard, free of the ring.

“I ain’t wearing that thing,” he throws at you, holding your heavy stare. His expression screams defiance.

In your peripheral vision you notice Joel shaking his head at his younger brother with disapproval. The anticipation of the night makes your pussy throb, you have so much work to do.

You turn to Joel and take his hand again before leading him to the side of the bed.

”Let me help you, sweetheart,“ you purr to the man twice your size and bend down to take his jeans off completely. Then you motion for him to lie down. He immediately follows your order and soon he’s lying next to his brother, naked from the waist down.

Your tongue slides over your lower lip as you ogle the man splayed in front of you. Joel’s ringed cock is standing proudly, drooling precum down the shaft, and you can’t wait to taste it, to come on it.

“Joel, baby, I���m gonna make you feel so fucking good tonight.”

“Yes, please, my love.” Your words make Joel squirm on the bed and his cock bobs cheerfully while his balls pulsate with the rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Now you, Tommy,” you snap your eyes at his brother, “you’ve been bad. Very bad. And bad dogs don’t get to sleep in the mistress’ bed. Chair!”

Tommy’s fiery eyes are boring into you but his member betrays him. A clear drop of pre cum beads on his pink slit and you gloat,

“Aww, look at your poor dick, crying for my pussy. Bet he’s sorry that he’s attached to such a brat.”

Tommy gets up, mumbling something incoherent, and walks to the chair, standing in the corner of the room. He takes the “bad boy’s seat“ and throws his thighs wide, his cock stiff, leaking on his jeans.

You sit next to Joel and caress his wet shaft with your index finger and thumb, slowly gliding them up and down. Joel’s hips fly up but you shush him and look at Tommy.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen tonight. I’m gonna ride Joel’s face because only good boys get to taste my sweet pussy.”

Joel licks his lips and a low growl simmers in his chest.

“Then I’m gonna take his ring off and suck his cock and balls. He can fuck my throat too if he wants.” Joel stirs impatiently on the bed while you continue pumping his cock with two fingers.

“And I’m gonna let him come into my sloppy, tight pussy. Would you love to fill me up, Joel?”

The older brother eagerly nods, almost choking on his words, “Yes, my love, yes—please—yes.”

”And you, Tommy, are gonna watch until you’re desperate. Until you don’t want to behave like a brat anymore. Until you beg for my cunt.”

Thank you for reading! Leave a comment and reblog if you enjoyed the story <3

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesfaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40 @huskyfox5

[m0ney]

f(x) in 2014 ･ﾟﾟ･｡☆

[052900]

Happy 10th year anniversary to f(x)'s Red Light!

[redflavor]

LUNA Free Somebody, 2016 dir. Shin Hee-won, animation by Kim Yong-oh

[femaleidols]

LUNA ⊹ MADONNA (2021) requested by magnusmaiabelle

[tateypots]

Bit By Bit

18+ MDNI

Pairing: Dark!Joel x f!reader, dark!Tommy x f!reader

Word count: 1664

A/N: Part 4 of Collared. Same warnings as before, it’s dark so please heed the warnings and skip if it’s not for you.

Summary: Something has changed in the way Joel and Tommy treat you.

Warnings: Non-con, kidnapping, fingering, unprotected piv, restraints, orgasm denial, manipulation, negative self talk/self-loathing

Part 3

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You lay on your back on the bed, tears leaking from your eyes and Tommy’s cum leaking from your pussy. It was the quiet time between breakfast and lunch and as usual you were left alone with nothing but your thoughts to entertain you.

You had come to hate being alone more than you could have ever imagined possible. Alone, you couldn’t stop the intrusive thoughts that filtered in, your mind turning on you just like your body had. The treacherous voices in your head whispered to you that this was all you were good for, being nothing more than their fuck toy, collared and chained for them to take their pleasure whenever they pleased. Those voices asked questions you didn’t want to answer. Even if you could get away from them, what would you do? Where would you go?

You were alone in the apocalypse with no survival skills. Your father had seen to that. Even though you’d begged him to teach you how to shoot, how to hunt he’d refused, telling you it was dangerous and he’d take care of it. Ever the misogynist, he refused to acknowledge that you might be capable of looking after yourself with some guidance. That one day you might be separated, that he might not be there to look after you. And so he had damned you to this. You were so angry with him for it. Truth was you were angry at him for many things. For dragging you out of the QZ to a life he refused to prepare you for. For not listening to you when you told him they should do a full sweep of that medical centre before searching for supplies. For being so cold and unaffectionate with you, for leaving you so touch starved you enjoyed being raped.

This was what you hated most about your new life. Even worse than the sex, the time alone with nothing to do except remind yourself how pathetic you were. And now Tommy and Joel seemed to be realising it as well. They were still kind to you in their way. They never hurt you, they cleaned you up after they used you, made sure the fire was going strong throughout the day so you would be warm enough. But they never held you anymore, never wrapped you up in their big, strong arms and told you it would all be ok. Never made you come anymore. And you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to ask it of them. It felt too much like surrendering, even though you knew there was little you could give that they hadn’t already taken.

You wished you knew what you had done to bring about the change. At the time you had hated the attention they lavished on you. The kind words and gentle touches. But now you found yourself missing them. All adding to the confused jumble of feelings about your captors that bounced around your brain and ran you emotionally ragged. You missed them when they left, hated them when they were inside you, hated yourself most of all for craving affection from the men holding you prisoner. And with all this came the realisation of how precarious your position was. When they finally fully tired of you what would happen? Would they kill you? Would they turn you out into the harsh winter to fend for yourself? A death sentence with your lack of skills but at least they wouldn’t have to get their hands dirty. Worse yet, would they pass you on to someone else? Trade you like cattle for supplies. The thought left you sickened.

You thought back to the morning things had changed for the umpteenth time, trying to decipher what had happened. Tommy had wandered into the main room shortly after daybreak as usual, waking you with a gruff, “on your back princess, spread your legs.”

You did as you were told, no fight left in you now and he clambered on top you. He fucked you harder and faster than usual, no mean feat given how he usually took you. He made no effort to make you come, no fingers rubbing your clit, no attention payed to your breasts, no words of encouragement or praise. Even without all of that, his cock alone was enough to have the pleasure building within you but he came hard before you could tip off the edge, filling you with his semen. He’d pulled out hastily, didn’t even bother to admire his cum leaking out of you like usual. He cleaned you up and got on with making breakfast as if nothing unusual was happening.

You wondered if he had not slept well. Or if there was something on his mind. But when the same thing happened when Joel fucked you later that day and again when Tommy fucked you right before bed time you realised something had shifted. You hated that you didn’t know what. Alone and in the dark as always. And so it had continued for 2 weeks. Day after day your orgasms were denied to you. Ripped from your grasp just as you teetered on the edge. It had left you so frustrated you could scream. After 4 days of this torture you had waited until they went to bed and tried to make yourself come. You circled your clit with your fingers, trying to mimic the motions the brothers had used, but you could never seem to find the right spot or the right rhythm. After hours of trying you managed a weak, paltry climax that was nowhere near being worth the effort and did little to relieve your frustrations.

You were pulled from your reverie by the front door opening. Joel came in, closing the door behind him quickly to keep the heat in. You watched him as he removed his coat and hung it on the hook by the door and then settled on the couch to take off his boots. He looked tired you thought. You pushed down images of you taking a nap together, you wrapped up in his big, beefy arms. That’s not how this worked. Not anymore.

He undressed and you couldn’t deny the sight of his naked body made your pussy throb. A purely Pavlovian response. You’re no better than a fucking dog you chastised yourself. But he really was beautiful. Big and broad and strong.

He climbed onto the bed and eased your legs apart without a word. He settled between them on his knees, immediately shoving his middle finger inside of you. He pumped gently for a minute before easing his index finger inside next to it, pumping and scissoring them a few times before pulling them out. That was all the prep he gave you now. You took some small comfort that he bothered at all. Surely if he was truly done with you he would not care if he caused you pain? He lined himself up with your core, leaning over you, his hot breath fanning over your face. He worked you open with 3 hard thrusts, gaining ground inside your pussy each time until he was fully sheathed inside you. He closed his eyes as he continued thrusting, building up to a bruising pace until he was positively railing you, the headboard thudding violently into the wall as his balls ricocheted forcefully off your ass. Moans fell from him with every push as he enjoyed you, mingling with the noises he was drawing from you as you fought to bring your climax into being.

You felt the coil tightening within you, you were so close. You hoped and prayed that this time you could finish before he did, that you could relieve some of the aching tension that had been building for so long. But you should have known that there was no-one listening to your prayers, God abandoned you long ago. You felt your orgasm slip through your grasp once again as he stilled and spurted inside you with a groan. You let out a sound that was halfway between a scream and a growl, your frustration reaching breaking point. He pulled himself out of you and immediately climbed off the bed.

You curled yourself into a ball and sobbed out, “what did I do wrong?”

“What do you mean baby?”

“You never let me come anymore. You never want to stay with me. Are you getting sick of me? What will happen to me when you’re done with me?”

He heaved out a sigh and crouched down next to the bed so his face was level with yours.

“Ain’t nobody getting sick of you baby. But you were gettin’ so upset, didn’t seem like you liked that stuff all that much, we thought this might make it easier for you.”

“Why do you care?” you whispered, already ashamed at how easily you caved,

“Baby, we ain’t good men, but we ain’t monsters.” He brought his thumb up to wipe a stray tear from your face. After weeks of nothing from him, that one tender touch had your eyes fluttering closed and your breath catching in your throat. “Ain’t no fun for us to watch you cry baby.”

Once he’d cleaned you up and refilled your water, Joel got redressed and headed back outside to help Tommy finish fixing the fence around the chicken coop before lunch.

“How was she?” Tommy asked as Joel ambled over.

“Good. Real good. Think she’s close to breaking.”

“Thank fuck for that.”

“I’ll let her stew on it for a few hours and then I’ll go back and see how amenable she’s feelin’.”

“She better be feelin’ very amenable, I’m not sure how much longer I can hold out, I need to feel that pussy clenching on me again Joel, fuck I’ve missed it.”

“Patience brother. She’ll give herself over to us. Bit by bit. Once that first wall crumbles the others will topple without too much effort. Just trust me. Got her right where we want her.”

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@aurorawritestoescape

[seulzitos]

Got a devil on my shoulder A gently whispered voice Like an angel, come to me Starting again Knock-knock, who's there ? ⎯⎯ @fairytopea

[abibliophobiaa]

Hii hope you're having a lovely day

Can I get a forced proximity,fake dating smut with Eddie Munson and the phrase "come on I won't bite, unless you're into that"

this was such a fun prompt! below is 4k of eddie and r just being adorable as hell. warnings: fluff; barely edited because i’m at work and die like bob in the docs; fem!reader; smut, so 18+ minors dni.

-

It was supposed to be simple: show up to your ex's wedding with a date, so that way your friends from college wouldn’t look at you with pitying gazes that clearly said, “Look at the poor, sad, tragically lonely girl.”

For the record, you were none of those things. And maybe it was a little dramatic to think that way. Also yeah, maybe you received those questions from time to time—asked innocently enough, usually—when you planned on settling down, but what if you never wanted to?

But pretending, at the time, to be in a relationship seemed easier than avoiding all of those questioning stares and probing comments.

It had been Max’s idea, actually; you’d been helping tutor her for a college math test when she noticed the invitation on the fridge and you’d laughed about how it was your ex and you still frequented the same friend group, which meant being invited to his wedding was an absolute. You murmured to her in confidence that you really weren’t excited about going; mentioned you were the only one in your college friend group who hadn’t been married off yet or popped out a kid (you shuddered to think of either of the two).

“Why not bring a fake boyfriend or something?” She asked. It seemed so…silly at first. You’d arched a brow in her direction and chuckled to yourself, the tip of your pencil tapping against her loose leaf notebook absentmindedly. At your confusion, she proceeded, “You know? Ask Steve or Argyle��Eddie.”

“Don’t say Eddie like that,” you grumbled, chewing at the eraser tip.

The redhead flicked one of her braids over her shoulder, shrugging. “Don’t say Eddie like what?”

“How you did just now! You didn’t just say Eddie,” you explained, dropping your pencil down onto the paper. “You said Eddie. Like you’re insinuating something.”

“Yeah, like the big freaking crush you’ve had on him since you two were in high school together—”

“Your answer to number five is wrong.”

Max snorted. And that was that.

Luckily, Eddie’s amicable as he always is. When you suggest coming as your date, he’s quick to ask for times to pick you up and requesting the attire for the event. It’s an evening wedding, and he shows up in a dark suit that matches the color of his hair. The same suit that now rests over the back of his chair, the sleeves of his shirt beneath rolled up to the elbow, revealing endless whirls of tattoos he’s collected over the years since he graduated high school.

He’s—well, Eddie on a normal day is breathtaking. All dark hair that falls in waves to his shoulders, broad smiles, dark eyes that can see through your soul. Charming as hell, and just as charismatic. He’s the kind of person that brightens every room he walks into and graces with his presence.

Eddie at a wedding?

You’re practically heaving into your champagne glass with how disturbingly—and unfairly—handsome he looks, but he can’t know that, so you play it off that you’ve danced one too many songs and need a moment to collect yourself.

“Think the plan is working?” He muses, leaning over to sip at your glass. “Think we’ve fooled enough people so grandma over there can stop clutching her pearls asking if you’ve accepted your spinsterhood?”

Honestly, the whole fake dating thing isn’t as bad as you initially thought. Eddie’s been ever the gentleman, holding open doors, holding your hand, holding the side of your hip. It’s great for the optical illusion you’re trying to portray, but it’s terrible for the ever painful kick-thump throb of your heart in your chest.

“Why? You wanna get out of here?” You likely can. You’ve stayed for the ceremony, most of dinner. You’ve even danced with Eddie a bit on the dance floor, introduced him to a few of your college friends, let him press a kiss to your cheek during the ‘couple’s dance’ after he’d suggested you try on the lips and you nearly broke an ankle, tripping up in your movements from the mere suggestion of doing something so insane. “We could always head back to the hotel room?”

Oh—and therein lay the other problem aside from your cardiovascular symptoms as a direct result of Eddie’s proximity: the hotel reservation somehow got all mixed up and you only afforded yourselves one bed.

One.

Singular.

Eddie had reassured the front desk employee that it was no issue, but you’d slapped your card onto the countertop and asked—admittedly pleaded—if they could check again for another room. It was with pitying gazes that they advised, because of the wedding, all the other available rooms were full. Which left you and Eddie with a king size bed for the night.

“It’s fine,” Eddie had teased, tossing pillows down the center of the bed after both tossed all of your things onto the floor. “Here’s our bundling board. You better not try to jump my bones in my sleep now.”

The thought itself has your thighs sliding together, mind swimming as your friend’s ring clad fingers trail against your forearm, drawing you back to reality. You turn with a ‘huh,’ your eyes meeting his as he says, “I’m fine with that if y—”

You’re interrupted by the sound of Clarissa, your ex’s new bride, calling your name from another table away. You’ve been friends with her for years, studied in the same program for your undergrad degree, and remained as such even after she came to you one day in the library and asked if it would be okay to date Jared. And it was; you’d been broken up for some months, anyway, after all. All adults who could handle weird circumstances.

Just like right now, as Jared joins his new bride’s side and extends a hand to greet Eddie. “Is this the guy that swept our friend here off her feet? Nice to meet you…”

“Eddie,” Eddie says, reaching over to grasp Jared’s hand and shake it. He’s just as charming when Clarissa leans down and urges you both forward in tight hugs, giggling brightly over how nice the two of you look and blushing when Eddie speaks again saying, “You look beautiful. Congrats, you two.”

“Congrats you two,” Clarissa practically trills, clapping excitedly. She mouths over Eddie’s shoulder, “He’s gorgeous.”

You can only pathetically shrug in agreement before Jared’s asking how the two of you met and Eddie tugs you so close to him you’re practically sitting on his lap. Your hand manages to grip his thigh to steady yourself when your chair wobbles, and his palm swallows yours upon doing so. He lifts it up to his mouth to brush a gentle kiss against the back of it. Your skin bursts to life with a thousand bubbles dancing along your skin, though you chalk it up to the champagne buzzing in your system.

Heat coils again as he turns to look at you, brown eyes fathomless as he says, “Back in high school. She walked into first period math class and she waved at me and I knew it was all over after that. But we only recently realized we wanted to be more than friends; figured it was about time to take a chance. Best choice I’ve made in a long time, really. Now we’re inseparable. Unbreakable. Insatiable—”

You elbow him slightly, cutting his words off. “Insatiable, Ed?”

Clarissa and Jared are none the wiser. The both of them only lean into one another, Clarissa glowing with her bridal beauty and Jared looking like he’s fallen in love with her all over again as Eddie regales them with your fake relationship origin story.

“Can you act like you actually like me?” He grumbles near your temple, that palm curling around your hip again to draw you even closer. Heat coils in your belly once more as that mouth drops lower, hot breath fanning along the shell of your ear, his voice a husk of, “Relax. I won’t bite…unless you’re into that.”

So, maybe you can’t swallow the breathy sigh that punches its way up your throat. And maybe your thighs clench beneath the table. But they’re all mere side effects to the man hypnotizing everyone around him with his charm, casualties of the battle waging war behind your ribcage. Even so, the damage is done; the carnage remaining in the wake of your inner turmoil is evident in the slow curl of his lips, the proud smirk lining those presently devilish features.

He’s thoroughly enjoying himself—enjoying the effects his presence has on you, even under the guise of pretending you’re something you’re not. So if your eyes roll in your skull when he leans down and presses a barely-there kiss beneath your ear, it’s only because he’s really wonderful at the elaborate facade you’ve both concocted.

It’s only because, over the years of being DM, he’s perfected the art of performance.

It’s that and nothing more.

Call the casual touches and flirting throughout the night side effects of a few glasses of champagne and loosened inhibitions. Call the glances across the dance floor nothing more than intrigue and longing for a ‘what if?’ Call the brush of his fingers against your skin, the press of lips, the hand on your hip nothing more than part of an act. Because that’s all it is.

Or so you think and have conditioned yourself to think.

But that tension lingers long after Clarissa and Jared wish you well. It lingers in the breaths filling the elevator on your way back to the room, it seeps into the pauses in your conversation. It grows and curls like a bowstring in your belly, drawn tight when Eddie slides the key into your hotel room door and pushes it open.

“If I didn’t know any better, Munson, I would have thought you were flirting with me earlier,” you hum, a casual laugh breaking into the otherwise quiet of your newfound privacy with the man, toeing off your heels near the door. “And the little speech about how we started ‘dating’ was really convincing. Either that or you should reconsider a career in acting.”

“What if I was, though?” His voice is soft. Softer than it’s been all night, a tremulous breath that makes your stomach clench. “Flirting with you, I mean.”

Before you, you can see two options laid out on a platter: you push into unknown territory, a world of possibility should you choose to open your heart to him; or, you brush his affection aside and preserve what you already have, not wishing to disrupt the balance of your life as you know it.

Eddie is friends with your friends.

You’re friends with his friends.

When lines become blurry, relationships are put at risk. Sides might need to be taken. There are other people involved outside of the two of you. But a louder thought rings true. An understanding that it’s Eddie. Eddie, who has only ever put your own needs above his. Always first. Wanted what was best for you at all times. Would it, then, be such a terrible thing to be selfish just this once?

“If you were…” you begin, stepping across the room to meet him where he stands. Your fingers trail up to his tie, the dark red material like blood sifting through your fingers, “did you mean it? The story too?”

“Since first period math class senior year—well, your senior year. My first senior year.” He chuckles uneasily, palm moving to slide over the span of his shoulder, easing at a knot. Watches you slide your fingers up along the fabric, moving up to help loosen the knot around his neck. You fumble with it for a moment, his breath spilling across your forehead, your bottom lip between your teeth when he rasps out, “Can I kiss you?”

And you’re nodding your head rapidly, gasping as his hand slides up to rest against the small of your back, guiding your frame closer to him. You practically ooze into his chest, bodies warm and humming with anticipation as he walks you backward over toward the bed and groans into your bottom lip presently pinched between his teeth as you tug at his tie and drag him into the cradle of your thighs down to where you lay in a sprawl of limbs against the mattress.

“Oh…” He pauses in his ministrations, breaking apart with a gasp despite your whines of protest to run a palm along the mattress. You flop down onto your back as the man presses the same palm against the topper, watching it shift and move beneath his weight. “Oh this is nice. Much better than my shitty one back home.”

“Eddie…” His head jolts back your way, as if he remembers you’re lying beneath him, waiting for him to help you out of your dress, and drops a kiss down against the curve of your neck. You hum to yourself and grasp his chin, dragging his mouth near to yours. He brushes your lips once, twice, and you tell him, panting, “I really like you, Eddie.”

He sighs as your hands finally help free the tie from around his neck and you toss the fabric into the far corner of the room, fingers dropping down to start working on the line of buttons down his chest inch by inch until you’re met with dark ink and a trail of hair against the bump of his stomach that disappears into his waistband and has you leaning forward to press a kiss to his exposed sternum. Beneath you can feel the rapid thrum of his heart, can taste the salt on his skin, flesh still warm from all your dancing in the wedding hall.

He’s climbing over to the top of the bed, bringing you with him, and rearranging the two of you so you can lay side by side. One of his palms starts a gentle slide up your back to grasp at the zipper pulled all the way to your neckline. His eyes implore yours briefly, a gentle exchange with no words, and your head dips. The sound of the metal dragging down your spine reaches your ears, fabric soon pooling around your ankle before he’s tossing it over onto the far corner of his room with the rest of both your clothes.

You take a moment to look at one another. Eyes roving across skin, fingers following in their wake. He trails his fingers along your shoulder, down the path of your sternum, swirls a circle around the soft skin of your abdomen until your sides shake with laughter. You watch those exhausted eyes of his trail along the curve of your hip, the bend of your knee, the crux between your thighs. Nearly gasp into his collar bone when he hikes a thigh over his hip and draws you in for another kiss, and you can feel the hot press of him briefly—albeit too briefly—against your center.

Those kisses, burning with a fresh fervor, draw breathless sighs from your lips. His words against your skin, telling you how beautiful you are, how he’s wanted this moment, how he wants to watch you fall apart against his fingers when he asks if he can touch you have you mewling with want, shuddering at the first brush of his fingers through your slick, warm and welcome between your thighs.

But it’s in that languid exploration that the two of you start to slow down, champagne bubbles that still linger in both your bellies making your eyes more and more tired with each passing moment, fingers becoming gentler, lingering longer. He sighs when you lean over to brush a kiss against his throat and suck, but it settles in the air and you can’t help the airy giggle that spills from your lips when one of his hands waves lackadaisical in the air as you ask, “Falling asleep on me, Munson?”

“No—no,” he groans. He presses a gentle kiss to your throat, and feels your pulse skitter beneath your skin. “Jus’ g’me a second. Wanna make you feel good.”

It’s a shame, a sin really, how even in his tired, partially blissed out state, Eddie Munson still has the power to make your insides liquify. Especially when those eyes start to flutter as he tries to focus his attention on you, lashes lingering longer and longer against the tops of his cheekbones in his efforts to stay awake.

With one last press of your mouth against his, you slide off the bed and help yank down the comforter enough so he can crawl inside, sleepy sighs spilling from his tattooed chest. Satisfied, you clamber in beside him and smile to yourself as that same chest aligns against your spine, arm looping low around your waist, and you both drift into a slumber.

It’s early when you wake again. Sunlight starts to filter in through the windows, the clock to your left reading seven in the morning. Luckily, it’s a Saturday and your check out time isn’t until eleven, which means more than enough room to shower and get ready to head back home to Hawkins. You’re about to clamber out of bed when you feel Eddie’s hand against your stomach shift. Butterflies burst to life at the gentle caress of his skin against yours, fluttering away only seconds later when the man in question grumbles, “Oh shit. Oh shit, sweetheart. I fell asleep.”

“You did,” you giggle, your calf brushing along the hairs lining his own. He groans, face pressing between your shoulder blade, hips flush against your ass and you continue, “It’s okay, though. You were tired.”

“We were…and I was…shit.” He huffs against your skin, hooking his chin over your shoulder to then brush a kiss against the plushness of your cheek. Then once more in that space beneath your ear that has you shuddering against him.

He starts a slow path along the side of your neck, laving kiss after kiss into your flesh, trailing down your shoulder. He starts to mark his way back upward, igniting every inch of you with a fresh fire when you gasp out, “We, ahh—mmm—still have a few hours before we need to leave.”

For emphasis, to really drive home your wishes in the moment, you slide your thigh up and over his, your hips moving backward to press needily against where you know he’s hard already. Those talented hands of his that strum along his guitar at the countless Corroded Coffin shows you’ve been to begin to work a slow path up your thigh, calluses tantalizing against skin. You push back harder against him, feeling his returning roll of hips against your ass, seeking out friction, craving release. But you have all morning.

You have time for the gentle slide of his fingers down the front waistband of your panties, the whine you release as his middle finger parts your center from entrance to clit, drawing out three slow circles that have you nearly begging him to fuck you right then and there. Still, he’s patient. Takes his time stroking against your center, listening as you coach him through what feels good, telling him to speed up, slow down. His other hand, not occupied with drawing out your pleasure, grips yours and slides it against the pillow nearest your head, a chuckle spilling from his lips when your head turns and you whimper into your pillow, asking him for what you need.

“What did you just say, sweetheart?” He murmurs against your bare shoulder, hissing when your hips push back into his hardened cock. “Tell me what you want.”

“Mmm—” He slides a finger inside you, drawing a slow circle, opening you around the digit before adding another. He repeats the question, low and sensuous in your ear, a purr that has your eyes pinching shut. “Want you inside me, Ed. Want you, want—”

Those fingers at your center slip from you, your chest heaving as he reaches over onto the nightstand nearest to his side of the bed and fishes out a blessed foil packet. You hear him hastily tear it open, the bed shifting and dipping in his efforts, before he’s pressing his chest back along your spine and hiking your thigh up and over his. The hand previously holding yours against the pillow above you slides back into your own, and your vision blurs out around the edges as he pushes your panties aside and drags himself through your folds from behind, catching on your clit, before slipping inside.

Your mingling hisses at the initial stretch of him turn into quiet moans as he starts to pick up his pace. He pastes sticky kiss after sticky kiss into your shoulder as that hand of his moves around to slide against your throat, shifting your head up and away from the pillow you’ve buried it within. Your eyes meet his, and between the constant roll of his hips as he moves within you, the fingers splaying across your neck, and the words he babbles into your lips about how tight you are, how good you feel, how you’re doing so good for him, it all quickly become too much.

He catches the flicker across your features, the way your sounds pick up in frequency, the rasp of your breath through your lungs. Against your lips he mutters, “Come on, sweetheart. Touch yourself for me, okay? Wanna watch you.”

And you’re quick to do as your told, palm sliding down your stomach until two fingers meet your clit, rubbing in the way you know you like, matching the frantic pace of Eddie’s hips, pulling back and then slamming into you again and again, driving you closer and closer to utter bliss.

“Oh—fuck—I’m so close, baby.” His fingers around your neck tighten, lips pressing against the corner of yours as you work yourself in tandem with him, the sound of skin slapping together muffling the cries spilling through your parted lips. “Tell me you’re close.”

You come before him, nails pressing down to etch crescents into the hand holding yours above your head, murmuring his name over and over again like a prayer as his lips claim yours once more and swallow the moan he lets out as his body jerks a few times and then stills behind you, shallow breaths puffing hot and frantic into your kiss.

When you both finally catch your breath, and you roll over and turn into him, he pulls you close to his chest and grins into your shoulder, asking, “What are you doing next weekend?”

And it’s that next weekend, at Jonathan and Nancy’s wedding, that you go as a real couple this time.

You don’t even give Max and Lucas shit for giving you a thumbs up when they think Eddie isn’t looking.

-

-

(protect myself from readmore)

[httpvomitello]

Miss Right *⁠.⁠✧

request: the reader is Severus's biological daughter, her best friend is Luna. She herself is in Slytherin, despite the reputation of the house. The reader is a very kind and sweet person

The corridors of Hogwarts buzzed with excitement as students darted between classes, their robes billowing behind them. You, however, walked calmly, your Slytherin tie neatly in place, offering warm smiles to the few who greeted you. Your house’s reputation often preceded you, but you had made it your mission to challenge the stereotypes that clung to Slytherin like vines.

"Y/N!" Luna's dreamy voice called from behind. You turned to see her skipping lightly toward you, her Ravenclaw blue blending harmoniously with the castle’s stone walls.

"Hi, Luna," you greeted warmly, waiting as she fell into step beside you.

"You look radiant today," she said, tilting her head. "I think the Nargles must be keeping their distance."

You chuckled. "Maybe they’re finally learning to behave."

Luna’s airy laugh echoed in the corridor as the two of you headed to the Great Hall. Fred Weasley was already there, lounging at the Gryffindor table. His eyes lit up when he spotted you, and he made a show of standing and bowing exaggeratedly as you approached.

"Your Majesty," he teased, his grin as mischievous as ever.

"Fred," you said with mock exasperation, but your smile betrayed you. "You’re causing a scene."

"Anything for you, my dear Slytherin," he said, pulling you into a quick hug before you settled at the Gryffindor table with him, ignoring the curious looks from nearby students.

Luna sat beside you, her plate already piling with odd combinations of food. "I think some people are confused," she said casually, her gaze drifting toward a group of younger students whispering.

"Let them wonder," Fred said, his hand finding yours under the table. "We’re the best-kept secret in Hogwarts."

You squeezed his hand, feeling a warmth that chased away any lingering self-doubt. Being Severus Snape’s daughter came with its own set of challenges, but you had found solace in unexpected places—Luna’s unwavering friendship and Fred’s contagious joy.

Later that evening, you found yourself in the Slytherin common room, curled up in one of the armchairs near the fire. The room was quieter than usual, and you used the moment to catch up on your Potions homework. Your father had high expectations, and you were determined not to disappoint him.

"Lost in thought, Y/N?" Draco Malfoy’s voice broke the silence. He was leaning against the mantel, his usual smirk in place.

"Just focused," you replied without looking up.

"Must be hard, balancing your perfect grades and your Gryffindor boyfriend," he said, his tone laced with mockery.

You met his gaze calmly. "Fred makes me happy, Draco. Isn’t that what matters?"

He shrugged, clearly not interested in a debate. "Just don’t forget where your loyalties lie."

"I know exactly where my loyalties lie," you said firmly, turning back to your work.

The next day, you met Luna in the library. She was flipping through a book on magical creatures when she looked up and said, "Have you ever wondered what your Patronus would be?"

You tilted your head thoughtfully. "I’ve never really thought about it. Why?"

Luna’s eyes sparkled. "It says a lot about a person. I think yours would be something gentle, but strong.”

"Maybe," you said softly, though part of you hoped it would be something unique to you.

Fred appeared a moment later, leaning over your chair to press a quick kiss to your temple. "What are we talking about?"

"Patronuses," Luna supplied.

Fred grinned. "Yours would be a fox, for sure. Clever and sly."

You laughed, leaning into him. "I guess we’ll have to see."

The corridors were mostly empty, the few lingering students too preoccupied with their own holiday plans to notice you slipping away.

When you arrived at the clock tower, Fred was waiting, his hands tucked into his pockets and a playful grin lighting up his face.

"You’re late," he teased.

"You’re lucky I even came," you shot back, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

He held out his hand. "Come with me."

You took it without hesitation, letting him lead you outside into the crisp winter night. The snow crunched softly beneath your boots as Fred guided you toward a spot near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. There, in a small clearing, stood a table draped in a checkered blanket, candles glowing softly around it. Steam rose from two mugs of hot cocoa, and a plate of biscuits sat invitingly in the center.

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Fred… what is this?"

"Well," he began, rubbing the back of his neck, "I figured we don’t get enough time to ourselves, especially with you always hiding away in that dungeon of yours. So I thought… why not make tonight special?"

You stared at him, a warmth blooming in your chest that had nothing to do with the cocoa. "You did all this for me?"

"Of course," he said, pulling out a chair for you. "Only the best for my favorite Slytherin."

You laughed, sitting down as Fred joined you. The two of you sipped your cocoa, the rich, warm sweetness melting away the chill of the night. Fred kept the conversation light, recounting one of his latest pranks on Filch, and you found yourself laughing so hard your sides ached.

As the night went on, the conversation grew softer, more intimate. Fred reached across the table to take your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

"I know we joke around a lot," he said quietly, his eyes locking onto yours. "But I want you to know… you mean everything to me, Y/N. I don’t care what house you’re in, who your father is, or what anyone else thinks. You’re my person."

Your breath hitched, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard. You squeezed his hand, feeling a lump rise in your throat.

"You're my person too, Fred," you whispered.

Fred smiled, leaning across the table to press a gentle kiss to your lips. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady rhythm of your heart.

When he pulled back, his grin was as wide as ever. "Good. Because I’ve got a lot more surprises up my sleeve."

You laughed, shaking your head. "With you, I’d expect nothing less."

[gaymer-hag-stan]

On the 29th of July, eleven years ago, f(x) released their second studio album, "Pink Tape."

Known for its experimental sound, "Pink Tape" blends various genres including electronic, dance, and pop. It features the lead single "Rum Pum Pum Pum" and is celebrated for its eclectic musical style and artistic music videos. The album received critical acclaim and is often regarded as one of the group's best works, showcasing their unique identity in the K-pop industry.

[tokumusume]

:¨ ·.· ¨: `· . ୨୧ f(x) cd plate scans

[nu-abo-misser]

[kohappink]

..・ヾ(。＞＜)シ Hot Summer

[052900]

Happy 15th anniversary to f(x) ladies!!‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

[melinoe-dearest09]

Hi 👋, My name is Mohammad, and I’m reaching out in a moment of desperate need. I’m a father of three young children living in Gaza, and we are caught in the midst of a catastrophic war. Our home is no longer a safe haven, and the future here seems increasingly uncertain. 💔

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If you could take a moment to read our story, consider donating, or simply share our campaign with others, it would make an incredible difference. Every act of kindness, no matter how small, brings us one step closer to safety and a new beginning. 🙏

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Please help the People in Gaza!!! They need our support!!

[kpopggs]

LUNA ♡ RED LIGHT ERA for anon