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transmunsons · 1 year ago

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Little Eddie Munson whose favorite movie growing up was Sleeping Beauty. Or rather, it was his mother’s favorite. She loved the dragons and fairies and princesses and magic.

Eddie watched her face, open and excited, as it was lit up by the reflected glow of the theater screen. The light washed away the crease line between her eyebrows that always became more prominent after talking to his dad. It was the only wrinkle she had. The only one she’d had time to form.

Eddie remembered the way she had leaned down and laughed quietly after Eddie frantically asked her what would happen to the prince. How she told him to wait and watch. And maybe Eddie was too young to fully grasp the plot, but his mom was patient and explained it to him in the parking lot as they walked back to their car, hand in hand while Eddie stomped on every leaf he saw.

Two years later, Eddie stood next to his dad wearing the frilly dress he’d always hated and stared resolutely at his Mary Janes. He’d kicked and screamed that morning, but his dad eventually convinced him that Mom would want her little girl to look her best today and don’t you want that? So he’d complied. Hours later, the rotund man at the pulpit would not stop talking about how Elizabeth Munson used to light up a room and how we would all miss her so terribly.

Eddie was just tall enough to see into the casket. She looked like she was sleeping. Like she was only a kiss away from coming back. He watched as his dad pressed his lips to her hairline, watched as the lid closed and she was lowered into the earth.

All this flashed before his eyes as he stood alone facing down the hellish swarm of bats. A scream—a roar—ripped itself from his raw throat as he challenged the monsters, goading them into attacking. He wielded his jury-rigged spear and trash can lid as if they were a sword and shield, taking down as many bats as he could.

But Eddie was no prince. He was knocked to the ground and held down, laid out like an underworldly buffet for the vicious bats to sink their teeth into. And they did. It hurt like hell, too. By the time Dustin hobbled over to him, Eddie had stopped screaming. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that the bats weren’t gnawing on him anymore.

It’s not how he thought he would go, bleeding out in the arms of a fifteen-year-old. It’s not fair, but he’s a Munson. They don’t get happy endings.

He heard Dustin calling his name as his eyes slipped away to stare at the inky excuse for a sky, splintered with red. He never knew how much he loved the sun until it was gone.

Big, brown cow eyes framed by blocky eyebrows overwhelmed his field of vision. Steve.

He felt a hand on his cheek and then—oh—Steve was kissing him.

He could vaguely hear Steve shouting instructions at someone, or multiple someone’s, he wasn’t sure. Then his lips were back on Eddie’s, pushing air into his lungs. Ah, so it wasn’t a kiss. Damn shame.

“Steve, he’s mumbling something”

“He’s delirious”

The world was moving. Flashes of light passed by periodically. He was still lying down but not in the dirt anymore. The lights were… street lamps. He was in a car.

Thankfully he couldn’t feel his body. He knew this wasn’t good and probably meant that he was in so much pain that he went into shock. He was trying to ignore that.

Frantic voices surrounded him and he was lifted out of the car. The movement jostled him too much and all the pain came back in a tidal wave of blinding white. He promptly passed out.

Eddie woke up covered in so many bandages he could barely see any skin. He felt gauze on his jaw and neck and tried to touch it, but his hand was yanked to a stop by the wrist. He was handcuffed to the gurney.

“I tried to stop them.”

He was met with the sight of Steve Harrington slouched in a plastic chair wearing a rumpled deep red sweater. Through fallen strands of hair, Eddie could see that the skin under Steve’s eyes was tinged purple.

“They said it was just a precaution, to make sure you wouldn’t run.” Steve looked mad. “Hopper’s out there working on getting you uncuffed.”

Eddie must’ve still been delirious. “Hopper?” He croaked.

“Long story,” Steve twitched his mouth into a smile.

“I always knew that guy was a tank,” Eddie stated.

Steve let out a laugh. It was a glorious noise. Eddie wanted to come up with a million ways to cause it again.

“How are you in here, you know, if I’m so dangerous?” Eddie rattled his cuff.

“I can be quite charming,” Steve leveled him with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

Eddie made a disbelieving hmph.

“You doubt the charm?” Steve looked playfully offended.

“Oh, I doubt.”

Steve scoffed.

“You’re not nearly as cute as you think you are,” Eddie lied. “So how’d you get in?”

Steve stared at him for a second before fishing something out of his back pocket. The ring of keys jangled and flashed in the light where Steve held it. “Lifted it off a nurse.”

In Eddie’s book, that was far more impressive than schmoozing his way in. He told him so.

“Thanks,” Steve looked down. If Eddie didn’t know better, he’d say it was downright bashful.

“They lowered your security to just, uh, that,” Steve gestured to the handcuffs, “after your alibis were confirmed.”

“My alibis?”

“Yeah, you’ll be a free man as soon as you sign some paperwork.”

Of course there was a catch.

Beeping from the machines Eddie was hooked up to filled the room.

“You saved me.” Eddie whispered. He remembered strong arms pulling him off the ground, one under his knees, one cradling his head.

He took a good look at Steve sitting there beside him, with his sweater and his stolen keys. He looked wrecked, like he hadn’t had a good night's rest in days. His honey brown hair shone in the harsh hospital lights. Eddie thought he looked fucking regal.

Eddie realized two things at once. 1: he might be falling in love with Steve Harrington and 2: there was a big, fat, unmistakable “F” on his medical bracelet for all to see.

He heard the beeping of his heart monitor increase.

“Hey, what’s wrong, are you okay?” Steve was suddenly very close. His hand hovered near Eddie’s shoulder.

“Where’s my uncle?” Eddie asked, trying to calm his breathing. He kept staring at it. They’d at least gotten his name correct.

“He left to get some food, he’s been haunting your bedside for the past week.” Steve’s face was right next to his, trying to meet his eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Steve turn his head to look at Eddie’s wrist. “What are you looki—oh.”

Steve covered the bracelet with his hand; his palm was big and warm. “It’s alright. None of the kids know.”

Eddie felt his stomach drop. “And you?”

“I know,” Steve had the decency to look embarrassed.

“I had to cut your clothes off to bandage your wounds,” he cleared his throat uncomfortably, “I put two and two together when I had to correct how some of the doctors referred to you.”

“And you’re cool?”

“Yeah, man, I’m cool.” Steve smiled. “I swear on Dustin’s mother.”

Eddie chuckled and then immediately cringed when his sides contracted. “Don’t-don’t make me laugh.”

“Sorry.”

Screw falling, Eddie was firmly in it now. Steve was being so casual and normal about what should have been ground-shaking information to him. Grass is green, the sky is blue, Hawkins hosts a hell dimension, and Eddie Munson has tits. Had tits, anyway.

Steve had to sneak back out before he got caught and Wayne eventually came back with some turkey sandwiches. They had a tearful reunion where Eddie explained everything and Wayne told him he believed in him the whole time.

Some men in suits came by and watched as Eddie paged through a Bible’s worth of documents. An undead Hopper stood glowering at them from the corner.

Eventually, Eddie was discharged and immediately tackled by a gaggle of young teenagers. Mike, Dustin, and Lucas apologized for almost readmitting him when he yelped and told them to be careful.

Eddie and Wayne settled into their tiny new two-bedroom near main Hawkins. Wayne grumbled that it was too far from Forest Hills, but Eddie knew he enjoyed having his own room for the first time in years.

The school didn’t let him attend class physically, but they sent him work to complete so he could finish the year. He was determined to walk.

Steve and Robin would drop by to hang out. Robin said it was enrichment for Steve since he didn’t have any other friends his age, and Steve gave her a noogie in response. Robin and Eddie bonded over their shared freak status while Steve seemed to be thinking about something very hard.

During one of these visits, Eddie found himself alone with Steve on the roof of his van. Robin had some band thing, so they’d driven out to a field armed with a six-pack or two and a small mountain of junk food.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow across the field and turning the grass to gold. The plaid blanket they’d spread on the roof was covered in crumbs and empty wrappers. Eddie watched Steve’s profile as he brought the beer bottle to his lips, as the liquid traveled down his throat. He stared at the slope of his nose, how his eyelashes brushed against his cheeks.

“Alright, it’s your turn, hit me,” Eddie said.

Steve looked out at the treeline thoughtfully. “Okay, who was your first crush?”

Eddie groaned. “I’ll tell you but don’t laugh.”

“I won’t!” Steve was already smiling.

“Promise?”

“No, I’m not gonna promise, what if it’s really funny?”

Eddie pulled up his legs and buried his head between his knees. He mumbled the answer.

“What was that?” Steve teased.

“I said it was Prince Philip!” Eddie admitted.

“From the cartoon?”

“Don’t laugh!”

“I’m not,” Steve laughed.

“It was my moms favorite movie as a kid and she took me to go see one of the re-releases. I was four and I was obsessed with him. My mom thought it was adorable.”

“It is adorable,” Steve leaned back to rest on his elbow.

“What about you?” Eddie leaned down to join him, “Who was your first crush?”

“It was, uh, Laura Jackson in fourth grade.” Steve picked at the label on his bottle. “She let me bum fries off her lunch when my mom forgot to give me money, which was all the time.”

“Did you ever tell her?”

“Yeah,” Steve huffed a laugh, “about every month. Shot me down each time.” He mimed shooting a gun into his own heart and flopped down with his tongue hanging out. Eddie chuckled and Steve resurrected with a self-satisfied grin.

“And you kept trying?” Eddie asked.

“I guess that when I know what I want, I kind of just go after it.” Steve looked over at Eddie. His eyes weren’t actually a true brown, they were hazel like the forest floor. He was looking at him with an indescribable expression. “All I have to do is figure out what it is that I want.”

Eddie looked away, heat crawling up the back of his neck, and lit a cigarette. He took a drag and let it sit in his lungs before blowing it out again.

“I think it’s my turn again,” Steve said. “Let me know if it’s too far.”

“Well now I’m getting worried.”

“Just—you don’t have to answer, but,” Steve picked a crumb off the blanket, “I noticed you don’t go on any dates.”

“That’s not a question, Steve, and not a lot of guys are lining up to gain the affection of Hawkins’ most notorious accused serial killer. Being gay isn’t a walk in the park even without the social stigma of acquitted murder. Let alone the fact that once my pants came off they’d run for the hills.”

“So you’ve never…?”

“Well,” Eddie flushed, “Let’s say I give better than I get.”

Steve seemed unfazed. “What kind of guy would you go for, if you could?”

You, Eddie doesn’t say. Instead,

“He’d have to be kind,”

“Of course.”

“And caring,”

“Naturally.”

“And totally reckless, an absolute daredevil. And ideally he would be madly in love with me, and he wouldn’t care how I was born.”

Eddie was describing the Steve who appeared in his fantasies. The one who showed up in shining armor to save the day. The one who slew monsters with his teeth. More importantly, the one who dropped Robin off at school every day, hours before his shift, just because he wanted to. The one who made sure the freshmen were safe. Who delivered fresh groceries at the Mayfield trailer every week since August.

“I need to confess something.” Steve broke off Eddie’s train of thought.

“What?” Eddie started running through a million possibilities in his head but before he could really process them, Steve spoke again.

“Robin didn’t have a band thing.” His face was so close to Eddie’s, he could see dust on his eyelashes. “I asked her not to come.”

“Why? You two are practically attached at the hip.”

Steve’s eyes flickered back and forth between Eddie’s like he was searching for something. “I wanted to do something together, just the two of us.”

The sun was kissing the treetops across the field.

Eddie had the all-too-familiar feeling that he was missing a crucial bit of information, a tickle in the back of his mind that often occurred when he was staring down a blank test or missed a social cue.

Steve plucked the cigarette from Eddie’s slack mouth, took a deep pull, and placed it gently back on Eddie’s lower lip all without breaking eye contact. Eddie let it fall to the blanket, holes be damned.

“What’s going on here?” Eddie demanded, sitting upright. “You know I’m gay, you can’t do shit like that to me.”

Steve copied his position and exhaled the smoke, taking a second to check that the camel was put out. “My god, Eddie, I’ve spent the entire evening hitting on you and you haven’t said a damn thing!”

Eddie closed his mouth with a clack. He blinked to recalibrate his brain. “I thought you were straight?”

“We spent an hour last week ranking the asses of male musicians. I still say Springsteen deserves first.”

Eddie flailed his hands, “I don’t know! I thought that’s what straight dudes did with their friends. Everything you guys do seems incredibly homosexual, how is a poor guy like me supposed to tell the difference?”

“I sang to you on the ride here!” Steve said through an incredulous smile.

Eddie recalled the slightly pitchy but otherwise impressive rendition of “Your Kind of Lover”. Thinking back, he should’ve noticed the emphasis Steve had put on the chorus, but he was a little distracted by the way Steve’s hair had bobbed as he nodded his head to the beat, fingers tapping on the wheel.

Now, under the weight of Steve’s gaze, the attention felt like too much. It wasn’t fair how the setting sun illuminated Steve’s tan skin. The man was fucking glowing like Helios himself. A drop of sunlight pooled in the hollow of his collarbone just above where a thatch of hair peeked out of Steve’s white undershirt. Eddie nervously licked his lips.

He let a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. "You like me," Eddie poked his finger into Steve's shoulder.

"Nice of you to finally catch on," Steve poked him back. "I was starting to think I misinterpreted all your ogling."

"I do not ogle," Eddie sniffed, "I admire. You haven't seen yourself from behind; if you had a music career, I'd rank you above Springsteen."

"You sure know your way to a man's heart." Steve said flatly.

"Ya know, when you gave me CPR in the Upside Down, I thought you were giving me true love's kiss." Eddie confessed.

"That's adorable."

A siren whooped in the distance. Instinct took over Eddie's body as he scooped bottles and wrappers into his arms and tried to scramble off the roof. He registered Steve doing the same next to him, and in their haste they knocked into each other, slipped off the van, and tumbled into the grass.

Eddie ended up laying on top of Steve, holding one of the beer bottles at the base of his throat.

"Hi," Steve said breathlessly.

"Hey," Eddie let the bottle roll to the ground. They'd landed on the side away from the road. He watched through his van's tires as the police car sped past their location without a second glance.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked.

"I'm fine."

Crickets started chirping in far-off woods and Eddie thought he might've heard a bullfrog croak.

Steve tucked a piece of Eddie's unruly hair back in place and settled his hand against Eddie's cheek. The sun had just set and Steve's eyes were huge in the low light. Warmth bled through his shirt where it pressed against Eddie's bare forearms.

"D'you know how long I've liked you?" Steve whispered. His breath ghosted over Eddie's lips.

"Tell me," Eddie whispered back with a smile.

"Back in school, I thought you were kind of an ass-"

"I thought this was about how you like me."

"I'm getting to it. I thought you were a jerk, but after I became friends with Dustin, I noticed how much more comfortable he seemed. You made him a space where he could be himself. That's what you do. You make everyone around you more comfortable in who they are because they watch you be proudly yourself.

"You're the bravest, smartest, kindest man I know. I think I started falling for you when you told me you were wrong about me, you know, being an asshole. No one I've dated has ever recognized how much I've changed. You saw me, the real me."

Steve looked so sincere, eyes wide as he held Eddie's face. Eddie wanted to hide in his hair.

"You're gonna make me fall in love with you, Harrington." Eddie warned.

Steve grinned, "You promise?"

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna kiss you now."

"Okay."

Eddie didn't have nearly as much experience as Steve, but he held his own. His hands raked through Steve's hair, felt him do a full body shiver when he tugged.

Eddie smiled against his lips.

“Shut up,” Steve murmured.

“I didn’t say anything.”

Eddie was pulled back into the kiss by the back of his neck. He tilted his head, coaxed Steve into opening his mouth. Steve did something with his tongue that would’ve made Eddie go cross-eyed if his eyes were open. One of Steve’s hands crept up Eddie’s thigh until it rested on his hip, a thumb touching Eddie’s side where his t-shirt had ridden up.

Eddie moved to properly straddle Steve as he switched to latch onto the side of Steve’s neck. The hand on his hip gripped him tight as Eddie settled. Steve made a desperate noise and arched his back, grinding up to meet him.

“Eddie,” Steve said hoarsely. Eddie hummed in acknowledgment as he laid open mouthed kisses on Steve’s pulse point, skating his hands up Steve’s arms to squeeze his biceps.

“Eddie, we gotta slow down,” Steve pulled a reluctant Eddie off his neck and stroked his cheek with a thumb.

Steve gave him a sweet, lingering kiss and Eddie nipped at his lower lip as he pulled away.

“If my giving you CPR was true love’s kiss, does that make me your Prince Charming?”

“I should never have told you that,” Eddie groaned against Steve's collar.

cross-posted on ao3

#trans eddie munson #steddie #ftm eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie munson

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velvateen · 1 year ago

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Can i request a reader x luffy fic where luffy is the shy one? 🥺 i loved your sleeptalking fic!

anything for you teehee 🤭

say what you want - shy!luffy x gn reader

warnings: gn reader, making out (AHHHH 🫣)

It wasn’t hard to tell when Luffy wanted something. He was always vocal, about being hungry, about being happy or sad, anything really. It was part of his charm, being so open and authentic, inspiring to everyone that his physical strength came paired with such an sincerely bared soul. Leaning against the side of the deck with him tonight, as stars shone brightly above the clear ocean night sky, you think you’ve found his one exception. Your sides recovered from breathless laughter as a sense of quiet filled the air between you and Luffy, the smile that lingered on your lips directed its way towards him. His cheeks slightly tinted with pink, his dark brown eyes, the salt spray putting slight wave in his hair, he looked radiant in the blue light that bounced off the deep sea. His eyes met yours, locked in and focused, a smile still ghosting his features.

“What?” you asked, running a hand through your hair, pushing it away from your face. You were almost starting to get self conscious with the way he was looking at you. He didn’t seem to hear you. “What is it, Luffy?”

He looked away for a second before turning back to you, “Oh, I. I don’t know, nothing, don’t worry about it..” he stuttered, the pink hue returning to his face. Your eyebrows scrunched.

“Nothing? Seems like something to me,” you sang, nudging his shoulder. Your hand dropped to rest on his knee and you pat it, urging him to talk. His eyes flickered between your lips and your eyes, and he was leaning closer, not with any intent in mind, just following the gravity that emitted from you and seemed to pull him closer every time. Your eyes softened as your hand pushed his knee down, leveraging him closer to you suddenly, his lips seconds away from yours.

“C’mon, Luffy, what did you wanna say?” Your eyes were half-lidded as you tried not to close the gap, his quick shallow breaths fanning across your lips. He gulped, nervously licking his lips, and you smiled, finally pressing your lips against his in a chaste kiss. Pulling away quickly to look at him, you watched as he leaned after you, eyes closed and mouth searching for your warmth again. You giggled as he slowly opened his eyes, brows furrowed and begging for more, not wanting to speak, forgetting how to.

You smiled, still leaning back, teasing. “Come on Luffy, you gotta tell me.” He licked his lips again, this time just to taste the ghost of where you had been.

He whispered your name, “can you please do that again?” You leaned forwards, cupping a hand around his ear as you crawled into his lap, keeping him pushed sitting against the ship’s walls as you straddled him. Bringing your fingers up to lace in his hair, his surprised moans were lost in your mouth, his kisses uncoordinated and lacking rhythm, his enthusiasm making up for it, his smile tangible in the way he searched for you. His hands laced in your hair, scrunching and gently pushing you forwards, chasing the feeling he had been scared to vocalize all this time. His rhythm gradually improving to match the one you set, he pulled away, opting to kiss down your jaw, your neck, the peak of your collarbone under your shirt. His hands rested under your shirt and against your lower back, all he wanted to do was feel now that he had you in his arms, where he knew you belonged. You pulled away after he pressed a final, deep, searching kiss to your lips, your lungs starved of air. You thread your fingers through his dark hair as you laughed in astonished disbelief. Luffy finally smiled that big, face-splitting grin of his.

“That’s what I wanted to say!”

A/N: omg so cute i love shy shy shy luffy i actually do need him asap. anyways thanks for the request @kingofthe-egirls it was sooooo fun to write!!! guys please send me requests if you want me to write anything specific next time! okay bye bye kitties meow (cat saying ciao) .*•

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saintfelina · 12 days ago

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Bambi Fawn Makeup

There’s something sweet and beguiling about this look. Wide eyes framed by fluttery lashes and lots of soft warm brown tones. Perfect for fall, here’s how to look like a soft fawn playing in the fallen leaves.

Base: Truly the key to it all is the base. The skin should be mostly matte with a few strategically placed elements of shine. Light to medium coverage is preferred. Brightening concealer should be under the eyes but don't go for the shocking bright thats popular now, instead only go about one or half a shade lighter and blend. I also recommend light underpainting with a bronzer at the temples, forehead and very lightly on the bridge of the nose for an autumnal sun baked look. Cream bronzer is the way to go.

Face: Keep it very simple. A terracotta, orange or straight up brown blush works best. Apply under the eyes up slightly to the temples but keep a light hand. This look calls for more of a tanned flush than a high beam of color. Try Fenty Cheeks Out Cream Blush 'Rose Latte' or Patrick Ta Double Take Blush Duo ' She's Blushing'

Brows: Keep them as natural as possible, but groomed. Tame them with a brow gel, and this look really gives that wide eyed look if the brows are thinner and farther apart with a slight highlight underneath them. Try not to make them too dark but they don't have to be pale either. Try Benefit Gimme Brow+

Eyes: You want them big and open. Line your upper lid with a soft brown, just darker than your skin tone and also line the lower lash line. Then take a nude (not white) pencil and line the waterline focusing on the inner corner. Nyx Vivid Rich Mechanical Eyeliner Pencil 'Under the Moonstone' & 'Quartz Queen'. Then layer lots of mascara, brown preferably for a softer look, Go for something lengthening like BADgal BANG! Volumizing Mascara.

Lips: If you hate lip liner this is truly the look for you. While you can still wear one if you prefer this look shines best without one. For those with darker skin and lips, go for a soft brownish nude. Try not to go darker than your skin tone as it should be your lips but better. Satin and matte finishes work best, just try not to go too glossy. The best shades are MAC 'Hug Me', 'I Deserve This' & 'Can't Dull My Shine'. Along with Sephora Cream Lip Stain 'Chocolate Lover' and Fenty Gloss Bomb Stix High-Shine Gloss Stick 'Hot Chocolit'

#coquette #coquette aesthetic #looks

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the-kr8tor · 1 year ago

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Girl listen

(fluffy Fridays when you will be refreshed and feel ok <3)

Hobie and reader babysitting mayday as per usual when reader goes to put her down to sleep they sing an old lullaby in their native language (hehehe) and hobies like 🥲😳��✨💗💗💗✨🥹😌☺️💜 ya know? That would be dream <3

Love ya <3

Drink water and take care of yourself ok?? 💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗✨💗😌💗

Hi, sunshine!! Thank you for the lovely request ❤️ hope you like it!

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, FLUFF.

It's Fluffy Friday!

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Hobie stops in his tracks when he hears your singing voice. He's heard you sing before but never like this, your voice is soft singing a lullaby in your native language. Accent unmistakable since Hobie has heard you talk in your language before, (usually when you're mad or happy)

He smiles, fondness blossoming in his chest. He should ask you to sing in your language more often.

You quietly coo at Mayday slowly closing her eyes but she's clearly fighting her sleepiness, opening her big blue eyes for a second before she slowly closes them again. Holding her snug in your arms, you rock her in rhythm to the song you're singing. She yawns, you chuckle at her adorable sleepy expression.

Hobie lingers in the doorway, leaning against the door frame, he watches and listens to you intently. The song carries over to him, he wonders what the lyrics translate to in english. He makes a mental note to ask you later.

Your voice lowers to an almost whisper, the lullaby covers his senses like a warm blanket, making his eyes go heavy, stifling a yawn. He probably caught Mayday's contagious yawn. Muscles relax, eyes firmly shut, Hobie dozes off in the doorway, your sweet voice slowly fades in the background. He almost slips when he leans a little too far inside the room. Gripping the doorframe, Hobie wakes up immediately when he feels himself falling. He saves himself from face planting on the wooden floor and waking up Mayday with the noise.

You notice the slight gasp he made, turning around to face him, smiling when you see him freeze in an angle, still gripping the wooden frame with an iron grip. Thankfully, Mayday has drifted off to sleep, suckling on her small thumb.

Hobie straightens up to his full height, index finger on his mouth, shushing you before you let out a laugh. You clam up, lips clamping shut with a ghost of a smile. Your eyes brighten up when he walks towards you, half lidded eyes staring at you.

"You okay?" You whisper, if not for Hobie's enhanced hearing, he wouldn't have heard it.

He answers you by planting a sickenly sweet kiss to the crown of your head, Hobie cradles the back of your head, you close your eyes with his touch, sighing at the affection. You suddenly feel sleepy like the little bundle in your arms.

You thank him by pecking his jaw, his stubble scratching your lips. You leave another kiss on the corner of his lip for good measure. He softly smiles.

Hobie doesn't forget Mayday, he gently rubs her rosy cheek with his finger. When she doesn't stir in her sleep, that's your cue to lay her down on her bassinet. You bend to your waist, careful of her tiny head, she snuggles with the little stuffed toy of spiderman that lays right next to her

You stretch your arms, gesturing for Hobie to step closer for an embrace. He surrenders completely to your touch, head laying on your shoulder, long arms enveloping your body. Mindful of his weight, he doesn't lean fully into you.

Your Heartbeats sync with each other.

Rocking him in your arms, Hobie chuckles deeply from his chest, but quietly enough so he doesn't wake the baby. You grin at the vibration from his quiet laugh.

"You want me to sing to you too?" You ask with a whisper, your hand kneads at the back of his neck, relaxing him more. Hobie's sure he's gonna fall asleep again.

"Please" Hobie mumbles against your neck, you feel his piercing against your neck, tickling you slightly.

You start to sing in English, Hobie groans, clinging to you tightly. You backtrack, whispering to him, "what's wrong?"

Hobie closes his eyes, "Can you sing the same song?" He can smell your familiar perfume lingering on your skin. Hobie presses a chaste kiss behind your ear.

"In my language?"

"Mm-hmm" He hums.

"Okay, but can we move to the bed before you fall asleep in my arms? You're not as light as Mayday"

"As long as you sing me to sleep too" Hobie says softly, yawning.

You catch his yawn, making you yawn too. "My big baby" you coo. "Let's take a nap then"

"Peter owes us, that kid is a menace. I'm bloody knackered"

You lead each other towards the bed, cuddling and singing softly. Hobie falls asleep almost immediately even though he fights it just to listen to you sing a little bit longer.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it ❤️

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 1 year ago

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irresistible, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook provokes you into fucking him. Just not before you finger-fuck his mouth in the middle of a kitchen that belongs to neither of you as a summer party rages outside.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; strangers-to-lovers; JK is a brat until he gets served punishment; intense D/s smut (fem reader, noona kink, spit kink, slight humiliation / degradation kink, choking, hair pulling, scratching / marking, denying him kisses, nipple play, dry humping, m-masturbation, cowgirl, semi-public sex, ball torture); non-idol!BTS – sub!Jungkook x noona, dom!reader

yeah, he has the double lip piercing, I like what I like, shush JK's appearance based on CK campaign and 'SEVEN' promo photos

now playing – irresistible by fall out boy

“Noona, I heard something very interesting.”

“And what is that?”

“I heard you punish bad boys.”

“Your point being?”

“Well, I can be a bad boy.”

“Hm, you are not going to provoke me into fucking you.”

“Do you wanna bet?”

He said, “Punish me if you think you can,” and you said, “I don’t need to.”

His eyebrow cocked.

You clarified.

“I will make you want punishment.”

Jeon Jungkook. Honestly, not your type. So handsome he seemed fake. Pretended not to care when he cared too much. Had a habit of taking car selfies with a certain lack of respect to them and spontaneously posting them on Instagram to farm thirst comments. You didn’t know about the last part until earlier this week. It was essential to the process, obtaining background research of the subject.

And now you were alone with him.

In a hotel room.

Sitting in a chair placed in front of the end of the bed, primly crossing your legs, contemplating if you were going to fuck the man in front of you. You studied the details of his face. Striking eyes. Tan skin that looked malleable and supple. You could tell he was wearing lip product. A balm to make them more appealing, glossier, a deeper pink. Mood, texture, color.

He had not one, but two silver lip rings on the right edge of his shapely lips.

Let’s start there.

Your own lips curved into a smirk and you lifted your hand.

Jungkook frowned at you, chiseled jaw and furrowed brows included. He was sitting with his legs partly open, hands laced behind his head like a reckless bad boy, acting as if he needed to be impressed. He had messy black hair past his eyebrows. The strands grazed above his lashes when dry and would cover his vision completely when damp. His prominent collarbones were visible under the low-cut, baggy black t-shirt. Black leather jacket was tossed aside, exposing the stark contrast of his heavily inked right arm and his equally defined bare left arm.

Your right hand raised and you placed your lips between your middle and index finger.

Opened your mouth.

Right away, you could see it.

Jeon Jungkook thought he was a lot of things, or at least tried to portray a certain image, but those big, dark brown eyes betrayed him every time.

Your flexible tongue traced a subtle v-shape between your fingers, almost, almost touching the skin, but not quite. Barely a millimeter away. Close enough to feel the heat of the warm muscle. You saw him pause. Falter. A crack in the glass. Your lashes lowering, expression demure other than your obscene mouth trapped the frame of your fingers. His stare fixated, lips parting, forgetting his confidence in this lewd display of juxtaposition. Lidded gaze, red lips, pink tongue. You licked the air between you and him, come hither.

His hands were falling, falling, slowly drifting down his sides.

“What…?”

His voice was a little too tight, a little too interested for someone trying to play it cool.

“W… What a-are you doing?” he breathed out.

You didn’t reply.

You just moved your fingers. Tucked down your index and pinky finger. Pressed the ring and middle side by side. Then your tongue slid out, jaw lowering, and you collected your two joined fingers into your waiting mouth, sliding them into the slick, glossy, perilous dark hole.

Jungkook sucked in a breath, his eyes widening.

You tilted your head, licking around your fingers. Circling around them. Slow. Thrust them in and out, letting the saliva drip down, down, closing your lips around them softly, your red lipstick being ruined, and now there was absolute quiet. Not even breathing. This was now an erotic silent film and you were the star, your eyes barely open but seeing everything, fucking your mouth in front of his face and observing Jungkook’s reaction. His body tense, trying to hide the tremors. His lips parted, trying to mask his staggered exhale. His legs adjusting to bunch up his loose, classic blue jeans, all so the crotch wasn’t pressed right against his body.

You smiled around your fingers, sinister and sly.

Pulled your fingers out of your mouth. Lingering down the right edge of your lips. Your fingernail grazed the full underside of your lower lip, ghosting your skin, down your chin and the curve of your neck, fanning your fingers over your collarbones. Careless smears of red across your skin, fading down to clear gleaming saliva over exposed throat.

Your wanton, sultry sigh invaded the air between you and him.

Jungkook stared at you, mesmerized by the view.

Like a moth getting trapped in the light by fixation.

“Hurt me,” he whispered.

So easy.

Or perhaps he had no idea that he said it, because he straightened a little, chewing on his lip and abruptly looking away. Silent but you could see how hard he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Shivers subsiding but oh-so-slowly, as if he wanted to savor their departure. Still, he was avoiding your attention. You reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out a spare tissue, wiping your hand and dabbing off your chin. His head jerked back at your action.

Jungkook frowned.

Disappointed.

Wanted more.

You got up from the chair and stood, looking down at him.

“I am leaving,” you announced.

He flinched as if slapped and then immediately scowled, hiding his startled surprise with veiled annoyance. “What? Why? I haven’t done anything!”

You folded the used tissue absentmindedly as you spoke. “True. And that’s why I’m leaving. You aren’t interested. You are simply trying to use me to get a good story. I wasn’t affected. She’s nothing special. Hmm, I appreciate the consideration,” you added in a dry tone that did not, in fact, appreciate the consideration. “But you can make up whatever story you want as I take my leave. Feel free to get creative. I won’t dispute you.”

Jungkook sprang up from the bed, seemingly seething. “What? No. That’s stupid. I don’t want that. I rented a hotel room just for this. For you. What, you think I’m not good enough for your talent or something like that?”

Pressing his buttons, one by one, was almost too simple.

“Oh, no. I’m sure you’re good at sex,” you hummed calmly.

An uneasy flicker across his face.

“I just think you’re not ready for what I’m about to do to you.”

His expression sharpened. Biting onto the challenge. You faced him as an equal rather than an overbearing presence. For now. You held eye contact as you breathed out. Gave instruction, gently.

“Be honest with me.”

Your hand darted out, hovering under his chin.

Almost, almost touching.

“Place your chin in my hand if you want to be honest with me, Jungkook.”

The stench of summer sex.

You drenched yourself in it and when you surfaced, you shook out your hair and went onto the next.

This was the game.

Just like the game you just played, leaving with an open white dress shirt over your red bikini top and tiny black shorts, sauntering away from the bedroom. The man in there needed to come down. Needed to bask in what had just transpired. Maybe simply needed to hide after you had ravaged him. You on top, your chest to his back and your lips whispering in his ear, do you like this, getting fucked with your friends outside, a dirty deviant, aren’t you, your fingernails down his spine, his words ringing in your ears, mark me, harder, please, harder, and yours huskily back, and what if someone accidentally sees these pretty scratches or is that what you want, you want your slutty side to be seen, don’t you, harder, sinking your teeth into the curve of that ass, tasting those hips and those open legs.

Speaking of legs.

The large floor-to-ceiling windows threw sunlight all over yours as you strode down the hallway, casting your black, shapely shadow over the wall. Outside, the pool was occupied with people. Laughing, drinking, playing around. You could hear the splash of water. Watch showering rainbow droplets spray all over the glistening bodies under the scorching sun.

Fun.

You stepped into the kitchen for a quick glass of water before you were about to make your exit. No need to apologize to the host. He knew what you were here for. Well, you were the reason he was currently a sweaty mess. Heh.

And then, Jeon Jungkook, striding into the kitchen to corner you with his silvery voice and sexy body.

“Noona, I heard something very interesting.”

Like you haven’t heard that shit before.

With the lingering taste of desperate kisses on your lips, you told Jeon Jungkook that you would not be provoked into fucking him.

“Do you wanna bet?”

You tilted your head at that. At him and his open white dress shirt exposing his muscular chest and black swim shorts slung low on his hips. At that cut v-line and visible abs. Showing off, but none of it wasn’t something you hadn’t seen before. You paused, stopping your observation on those eyes. Those black-brown irises shivered at your eye contact. Pupils dilating, darkening them. Ah. Alright. You played along.

“Stick out your tongue,” you instructed.

He made a face, and, after some hesitation, stuck out the pink tip of his tongue.

Obedient.

Interesting.

You raised your hand. Placed the pad of your middle finger on the tip of his tongue.

His eyes widened.

“You want it?” you asked him.

Those untainted eyes shimmered, brows furrowing.

You slid your finger down his throat.

“Let me check your gag reflex.”

And you pushed it down, down, down into warm wet tightness with absolutely no change in expression, watching Jungkook’s eyes widen into shock, his lips involuntarily closing around your finger, almost drawing back, but then you began to move, slowly thrusting into his mouth, lifting your other hand that was holding the glass of water so you could drink.

What?

Hydration was important.

A long, slow sip, casually fucking Jungkook’s mouth with your middle finger in the center of a large kitchen that wasn’t yours, in clear view of anyone who might walk in right now. He could jerk back, he could sputter and tell you that you were a freak, but Jungkook simply stood there, frozen, as you drank your water and stared into his eyes and violated him.

Calmly.

Rubbing the pad of your finger on his soft tongue, coating your finger in his spit.

He wasn’t your type. You liked them a little more honest. But maybe it was a front to keep the riff-raff away. Or something else. Hard to tell if worth exploring. You pulled your finger back slowly, tracing his lower lip. You noticed the small mole below, right at the center. Your nail lightly grazed the two silver rings at the right edge of his mouth, his warm breath on your glistening fingertips. He was a close friend of the one you fucked less than ten minutes ago.

Hm.

You handed him your half-full glass of water.

“I’ll get your number and then we shall make the arrangements. Don’t forget to drink water. It’s hot.”

And then you left him there.

Now, Jungkook placed his chin in your hand.

You felt the quiver of his breath. The nervousness. The vain attempt to swallow it all down.

“Look at me,” you commanded.

He did. Trying to shadow those large brown eyes with his lashes, hiding behind a raised brow and wayward strands of black hair, but the hard edge in that gaze eroded as your fingers caressed his jawline. Carefully. Softly. Gently stroking his neck, circling around the perimeter of his throat, turning your hand to place the tip of your middle finger on the mole underneath his parted lips, reminding Jungkook of that moment in the kitchen.

Oh.

He was reminded, all right.

He made a noise like a choked moan.

Then Jungkook tried to pull away, his ears bright red with embarrassment, but your wrist twisted. You sank your fingernails into his chin and dragged him back. A pained gasp and his eyes flooded. Shimmers of shame. At his sound? At himself for trying to run? Or at himself for liking it? Maybe all of them.

“I want you,” you murmured.

You could see your words from before haunting his thoughts, adding meaning to your rather simple declaration.

Be honest with me.

“Do you want me?”

I will make you want punishment.

He seemed to have forgotten his own words though, forgotten his doubt and the front he had been putting up all this time, simply letting his unfiltered emotion spill out in a whisper.

“Y-Yes, noona…”

You saw he wanted to say something more, so you waited, loosening your grip.

Stroked his cheek.

Coaxing.

“But… I’m afraid…” he breathed, on the edge of nearly not saying it. “What if I’m worse than all the others you’ve had? What if you hate it? What if you never want me again?” Shivering inhale, nervously licking at his lip piercings. “I want to be good enough. I want you to like me. But if you don’t like how I am as much as I like how you are…”

He closed his eyes, not wanting his own eyes to reveal everything.

“Sometimes I imagine you…”

His hand lifting. Tattooed fingers around your wrist.

“Hurting me, and I feel so good.”

His voice getting smaller, making you silently step forward.

“I thought that was so wrong, but then… I heard you… with them, behind those d-doors…”

You breathed in his exhale, watching his lips move. The desperate need entangled in his tone, eating away at the fear, holding you to him as much as you were holding him to you, and maybe this was wrong, feeling gratified at his unsatisfied desire but so be it, you let it happen, let him drag it out, let him fabricate his own pain, embarrassed and ashamed in his confession.

“It made everything worse, knowing that you could punish someone, and it wasn’t me. It drove me crazy, you flitting into bedrooms and slipping away with others, but not me. I want your venom in me. I need to be good so you’ll want me most. But I don’t have any experience in this kind of stuff… I don’t want it to be anyone but you. All those people and none of them were me, and remembering that over and over again made me act like a dick, and I was, I was addicted to you without you ever touching me, hurting and wanting to hurt. But I need it. I crave to be your carnage.”

His brows furrowed, hesitating.

“But if I told you… you’d think I’m crazy. Wanting you without ever having you. Feeling like I know you when I don’t know anything.”

Yes.

It was crazy.

How wonderful.

You turned your hand and choked him.

Inevitable? Maybe.

Ignorable? Of course.

Worth investigating?

Hm.

You flicked through the social media profile of Jeon Jungkook. Hah. You knew of him. Interacted on the shallowest of levels. Hard not to, considering the other profiles linked in his photos. You knew those other faces. Had tasted those lips – and more, heh – like savoring a glass of fine wine on dark nights. Playtime was the agreement, so that was how it stayed. Ah, but you didn’t want to play a silly game with an unskilled player. There was no challenge in that.

What are you hesitating for?

The shadow of your previous conversation dawdled in your mind. Your questions about Jeon Jungkook answered, along with his number obtained.

You could be his maker.

You smiled wryly as you did at the time of that conversation. What am I, a vampire?

An artist, was the reply.

Some people wanted to watch the world burn, but they didn’t want to hold the match. Instead, they handed it to you and dared you to strike it. How strange. How strange that they did not choose to burn themselves. How else could a phoenix be born? There was no rebirth without ashes, no light without dark, no heaven shining above without hell burning below.

Or maybe they simply liked the idea of you ruling this circle of hell called lust.

Hmmm.

You stared at his photos.

“There is art here, waiting.”

You decided to send Jeon Jungkook a text, asking for time and place.

His eyes flew open and there was just something so delicious about the shock in them.

You tightened your grip.

Yanked him forward. Just enough power to cause slowed blood flow. There were two types of choking your enjoyed. The first, the kind that applied pressure but no crescents of pain. And, the second, pressure accented with your nails turning inward, digging into soft flesh to mark what was yours. Jungkook received the first.

For now.

“You like pain?” you asked, placid and almost bored.

Black strands framed those sweet chocolate eyes tainted by the darkness of something deviant.

You ticked your head.

The faintest movement that screamed, hurry the fuck up and answer or I will let go.

He immediately started nodding, his chin pinching down to the pocket between your thumb and forefinger. The danger zone but he didn’t know it. And yet, so smooth, your free hand gliding up, sinking your fingers into the tousled waves of his black hair and pulling back. A breathless whimper drifting up towards you, helpless and contentment all that once, drawing a slow smirk from your lips, and you could feel it upon seeing this display of submission. The race of your heartbeat and the shot of adrenaline. Addiction at its finest. The familiar rush flooding your veins as you yanked Jungkook’s head back by his hair and dug your fingernails into his neck.

“O-Oh, fuuuuck…”

His eyelids fluttered. Hard thighs shaking under you, tense hands gripping the edge of the hotel bed, crumpling the duvet with his desperate want. You placed one knee on the bed and continued choking him, controlling the power to the pads of your fingers and less on your fingernails. Oh, you would leave a mark, but you weren’t specifically aiming to make him bleed. Maybe if he asked nicely. Arcing his head back further, lifting the elbow of your choking hand, looking down into those half-lidded, hazy brown eyes.

You smiled.

Then you spat onto his cheek.

Jungkook flinched strongly, not expecting the sudden splat of liquid onto his face, but you held him still, witnessing his full-body shudder and the moan leaking from his tight throat. You unflinchingly took the full brunt of his intense glare. Trying to burn you with indignation that he didn’t feel.

You leaned down.

And licked his face.

Cleaned off your own spit, tasting flesh and anticipation.

Delicious.

“I taste good on you,” you hummed, running your tongue over his jaw.

His breathing was shallowing and it wasn’t from the choking. Low whines creeping out between gasps, more and more pathetic as you licked all over his jaw, trailing kisses, placing one on that mole but missing his lips. Toyed with his earlobe instead, silver hoops cool on your tongue compared to the hotness of his skin. You could feel the tension in his body reaching breaking point, giving you only a few more moments before you needed to let go.

He attempted to weakly plead your name without honorifics.

You instantly released him.

Jungkook sputtered and coughed. Blood rocketed to his brain in an uncontrolled rush, and it nearly blinded him for a moment, his body veering sideways and his arms shooting up, clawing for something to hold, but your black boxy cropped jacket had been taken off already, leaving you in nothing but a black velvet bra top and matching tight miniskirt.

Strong hands grabbed your hips, dragging you down.

You stood firm.

The hand that had held his hair was still outstretched. Jungkook was coughing and blinking hard, disoriented and coasting on the high that was forced release. He could do nothing as you pushed his head back and cupped his cheek, turning his face so you could admire the dug-in crescents marring the side of his neck.

A different kind of moonlight.

This feeling.

The kind of feeling you could only get from destroying something untainted. Something so special about only encountering this once. Or...? There was something about those begging brown eyes struggling to watch you that made you want to question that. An innocence that seemed to linger even though he knew – or guessed he knew – what was coming.

You reached up and stroked a fingernail over the red marks, playing connect-the-pain-dots.

“Spread your legs.”

You said it softly and with a vicious edge.

Jungkook’s breath hitched and he obeyed, moving his knees away from each other.

You chuckled.

“Wider.”

There was a slight frown in the line of his brows but Jungkook did as he was told. Wider. You nudged his knee with yours, still holding his shaking chin with your hand, almost a gentle caress, and you pressed his thigh open until his erection was jammed into the zipper of his jeans. Discomfort shadowed his features, nose wrinkling, but you merely continued to regard him with a faint smile, reaching down with your free hand.

Took his left wrist and placed his own hand over his denim-covered hard-on.

You could see the protest bubbling in those brown orbs.

“Feel that?”

You curled his fingers around the crotch of his pants and molded his fingers to his trapped length.

“That’s how much you want to fuck me.”

It was one thing to say it yourself. Another for the one you were lusting after to point it out and make you feel it, make you stroke yourself through your clothes with their hand over your hand, and now that was Jungkook’s position, you doing just that while staring into his eyes, forcing him to tease himself under your command, only able to view you from the side as you held his head still, his black hair spilling over his cheek and forehead.

“N… Noona…”

You closed your fingers around his and made him grip the seam of his jeans, enclosing the thick fabric around the head of his cock. His shoulders buckled and he moaned, powerful legs threatening to close but you pinned his knee to the bed, driving in the point of pain, daring him to disobey.

You ticked your head.

Moved your thumb to stroke his trembling lower lip.

“What?”

Your tone was serene. Inside the rampant desire was tearing your calm façade apart, arousal and exhilaration building, finally feeling alive in this circumstance.

Those glistening dark eyes shifted, enamored by your power.

“P-Please…”

I will make you want punishment.

You knew. He knew. Those words now embedded in his mind, toying with him, dragging him into his dark fantasies that he couldn’t and didn’t want to share with others. You could see it in this eye contact. Him on his knees, holding the hem of his shirt in his teeth, wanting your tongue on him. Him with his hands above his head, taut inked skin and flexed muscles, exposing his chest to the mercy of your raking fingernails. Him sitting with his legs open, your teeth sinking into his hard thighs, clutching his balls in your grip and pre-cum dripping off the swollen head of his cock, leaking out and dripping, desperate to be buried in your throat.

You held your breath.

Just to heighten the high of what Jungkook was about to say in that silvery, quivering voice of his.

He shuddered.

“Punish me.”

“How do I know you won’t back out?”

How cute. Jeon Jungkook had called suddenly and barked this question at you. No hello, no how are you doing. Not even should I bring a snack. Instead, anxiousness hiding behind irate accusation. The I-definitely-don’t-care-but-I-do attitude.

“You don’t know,” you chuckled, letting your words caress his ears. Unintimidated by his fire, allowing it burn closer and surround you. “You just have to trust me.”

You could hear the heaviness of his breath.

“I can’t trust you,” he snapped, slipping into his Busan satoori in his fluster.

And yet you still want to keep me on the line.

“Too scared of the risk?”

And he could hear it in your voice, almost. A suggestion of adoration. On the edge, darling, but it wasn’t there. Only hinted at. You heard him suck in a breath. Tight. Maybe he had never thought of it, that possibility, until right now, until your tone of endearment that may or may not be there, but he couldn’t be sure and that was why he was taking so long to respond.

“I… I’m not scared. I just don’t wanna waste my time.”

“Oh, but I do.”

You hummed, sighing softly into the microphone, listening to Jungkook pause, holding his breath, spellbound by your tone.

“I want to waste my time on you. Spend long minutes with my hands in your hair, chest to chest, layers of clothes between us. Straddle your lap. So close but so far. My lips skimming your jaw, your throat, your collarbones. I want to say anything. I want to feel you. Breathe you. Consume the moment for every delectable bite it is. Press against you. Trap your waist between my thighs and feel you squirm against me. For me. You want it? Ask for it. I’ll deliver.”

He couldn’t see you, but you could feel your smirk widening as you spoke.

“You have my word.”

Waited a beat.

“Jungkook.”

Sweet like a lover, and then you hung up, cutting off the paradise.

Mmmm, you did love edging them.

Hovering.

You hovered above him and his shaking lips, his naked chest beneath you, and held his wrists. Not because you needed to hold him down. No, he was too trapped in his role to fight you. Didn’t want to, even. Tightened your grip. Lust rippled over his expression, slipping further into service. You deliberately avoided his hands. Kept your fingers constricted around tattoos and tendons and stared into his eyes. Dark brown irises polluted by the dilution of his pupils.

You breathed in.

Low and slow.

Feasting on the tension.

Lips barely a centimeter from his and those shiny silver lip rings. Close enough to cause the tremble, far enough to deny. Just enough distance for your exhale to be the secondhand smoke he desperately breathed in, already craving that nicotine.

You lowered your lashes.

Slid the middle finger of your left hand down, down his right forearm. Raking a line of hurt over black and color, deep enough to cause real pain but so slow, so slow that it made those round eyes shiver, his head flinching, and maybe it was involuntary or maybe it wasn’t, but you still denied him. The smirk stayed your eyes rather than on your lips, making the moment even more maddening. Frustration flashing in those expressive chocolate orbs, close to begging, but still too proud to break.

He was reaching impatience, so you took action.

You lifted your hand from his arm.

“Art…”

You whispered to those yet-to-be-devoured lips.

“Requires a certain cruelty.”

Then you pressed your palm to his mouth and slashed your fingernails over his bare chest.

Jungkook choked on his own yelp and you snuffed it back into his throat with your fingers clamping down on his cheeks. His hands shot up sharply, and you glared with malice, all five nails perched like a spider on his red, shaking pecs. A second of hesitation, and you let him remember what he said, punish me, the recall of subservience crumbling the surprise in his gaze.

He did not stop you.

You rewarded him with drenched tongue over white-hot pain.

The potent moan radiated from his flesh to your tongue and then into your head. Pierced with lust, with submission, with confusion, for he didn’t understand how it could hurt so much and yet feel so good. You scratched him again, lower, indenting his muscle and reddening the skin, not hiding your veracious fixation of the marred color, hungrily pressing the flat of your tongue onto it so you could feel the carnal elasticity and the heat of inflammation, oh how wonderful, raking your teeth over the tension, your lips smearing past, kissing his body before you even kissed him.

This.

Burning skin on tongue. He tasted clean, almost sweet. As if he prepared for you. You sank your teeth into his side, your fingers splayed out on his collarbones, ah, yes. Wet. His chest was damp from your spit. You sunk your middle finger into the base of his throat and Jungkook was gasping, choking, his trembling hand encircling your wrist but putting no pressure. Whimpers. He very badly wanted to touch you more, but he couldn’t guess how much you would allow and that fear alone heightened his lust. You pressed harder onto that spot between the bone, closing your eyes, letting his cries resonate sweetly in your ears.

This rawness of emotion.

This was beauty incarnate.

You relaxed all pressure on his throat and bit his nipple.

“Ah!”

You wrapped your hand around his neck and gripped harshly as your tongue toyed with the now-hard nub, finally lowering your body onto his clothed lower half. Right between his thighs, not your crotch but with your stomach against his bulging erection, grinding against it as you sucked, flicked, nipping at his nipples while casually and savagely choking him.

Looked up at him.

Condescendingly bored.

His hands scrambled for his neck, pulling at your fingers, but you only held on tighter, pushing the limit, and he was shaking his head, his black hair flying, those large eyes rolling in wild helplessness, glistening pink lips parted but making so sound, his feeble cry pinched in its now bloodless cage.

The silver lip rings gleamed in the light.

You ran your tongue over his chest, over red skin and trembling muscle.

Jungkook was getting harder under you. Throbbing, even in the jeans. You didn’t let go, keeping him in suspension of half-breath and half-death. That was because despite his showy performance of resistance, there was no power in his clawing fingers. The strength was in his hips, in his desperate, fervent rutting against your exposed midriff. You still hadn’t taken off your bra top or miniskirt. You let him keep going. Let him feel the velvet of your covered breasts against his hard, flexed abdomen. Let him thrive in the sensual agony. The rough friction was searing, but you did not move away, even pressing back against him.

His chest was tightening, strained scream rattling in his ribcage, trying to get off in vain, but there was too much fabric and not enough stimulation, aching pleasure fringed by the torturous pain of not enough.

You smiled.

“Don’t say you want it and not mean it,” you said, tone without inflection.

You lessened your grip just barely.

Bleeding oxygen flooding into his brain, and Jungkook moaned weakly, disoriented, his black hair sticking to his face, his lips, his cheeks, sweat and spit and tears, gasping, lashes fluttering, picturesque hands with those lovely fingers fanning out, stroking your inescapable grip on his neck. As if he savored the power locking him down. Needed it.

His silvery voice cracked like brilliant glass shards refracting rainbows as they fell.

“P… hah… Ple… Please, noona…”

There was a perverse satisfaction in watching him break.

“I… m-mean it, I w-want you, please… I can’t t-take this… I wa… want to feel you, please…”

You, too, savored his shattering demeanor.

Those large chocolate brown eyes up above pleading sweetly, urgently, watery.

Down below, you grinned with more than a touch of mania.

“Now that is what I want to see.”

You let go of his neck. His shudders travelled through your body as you slid down his, vibrations cutting all the way down to the very bone, sensing his fear and anticipation and that irresistible addiction building. The thrill of something new, something dangerous, something evolving into necessity as you looked into his eyes and Jungkook stared back, bitten pink lips parted in wonder as you slid between his thighs, serpentine, your predatory gaze reflected in his glassy irises. You did not hide your ravenous glee.

You could feel him getting more and more aroused knowing he had awoken something deep inside you.

You gripped the sides of his jeans and extended your tongue.

Threatening.

“N-No, wai–”

What happened next was simple. Almost too simple. But it was the performance that mattered. It was not just about removing his pants, but was about the deliberateness in your force while doing so. It was about your undivided attention directed right at him. It was about the slow, frame-by-frame pace. It was about the tightness of your grip and the harshness of your knuckles digging into his v-line as you slowly, tooth by tooth, dragged down the metal zipper of those classic blue jeans. You let him feel the nick of every tick of metal against his barely clothed erection. Centimeter by centimeter. Hooked your fingers under the waistband and let your fingernails catch on his hips. Jungkook whimpered, rising to his elbows, staring wide-eyed at you, not even realizing the disheveled state of himself. You slowly removed his jeans, tugging down, down, backing up, your sharp manicure periodically catching on his tense thighs, watching the gasp ripple up his red, flexed chest and escape from his throat. Sinful pleasure washing over his features once he realized he was enjoying it.

Perfect.

You let Jungkook watch your expression transform from faint amusement to rapturous satisfaction.

You backed up, tossing his jeans aside.

Knelt in front of his open legs and placed your hands on your lap.

Demure, one over the other.

You smirked.

“Show me.”

You ticked your head to the bulge in his black boxer briefs. Voice like poisoned honey, your words both a command and a dare. His cheeks burning red and there was the faintest tick of annoyance that you silenced with your sharpened gaze. Your smirk subtly morphed into something a little more sinister, a subliminal challenge in this smile. Maybe if he was in his right mind he could refuse, but there was too much adrenaline and too much anticipation.

The promise of payoff was so, so close.

Which was why you got to watch Jeon Jungkook strip his underwear off right in front of your eyes.

Your tongue traced your lower lip, wetting it.

He was now sitting at the very edge of the bed, thick thighs spread wide open, taut tension all over his muscles, and his swollen erection sticking out, the purple-red head leaking and angry, desperately seeking stimulation. And pain. Before he could drop his hand by his side again, you snatched it and stopped him.

Jungkook froze.

Visibly shivering at the contact of you holding his hand.

You stared into his eyes and brought his hand to his crotch, wrapping his fingers around his throbbing cock.

“Wha–”

You violently spat on the veined shaft, splattering saliva all over, and made him stroke himself, just like that. Immediate gasp, his hips bucking, and you spit on him again, slicker and wetter, forcing him to masturbate. He didn’t need much encouragement, already taking over the pace, harder, faster, and you let go, your fingertips running over his slippery knuckles, spreading your saliva all over. Looking up, seeing his black hair stuck to his forehead, his mouth open, shuddering, his moans deeper and lower now, more wanton, on the edge of depravity, not wanting to do it but needing to, too aroused to stop, too turned on to turn back, hyper-aware of the power saturated in this moment.

Jungkook was completely naked in front of your still clothed form, jacking himself off, and every time you spat on him, he whimpered, powerful hips jerking and rattling the hotel bed, the struggle flashing over his torn expression, to enjoy or be ashamed, but his lips were betraying him, more, please, his hand shaking as you made a mess of his thighs and cock, dripping spit, licking the inside of his open legs, his hand pausing with every one of your dramatic flairs.

Edging himself for you.

Your hands rested on his hard thighs, pushing them apart even more, glancing down at this lewd display but mostly observing his face, not letting him escape the pleasurable prison of your attention. You specifically did not verbally degrade him. It was not wanted and there was no need.

The silence itself was palpable humiliation.

His breathing shallowed.

Stuttered.

Chest tightening.

Close.

You leaned forward, hearing him hold his breath.

Suspension.

The harsh slap of hand to skin suddenly stopping.

Your hand clenched around his, abruptly cutting off his high. Squeezing through his grip. The violent throb of blood, and you staring into those large, glistening brown orbs, his rising sob dying in his dry throat. You rose instead, standing over him, keeping your hold around his strained hand. Even under dingy hotel lighting, his tan skin glittered with sweat, those prominent cheekbones framed by curled black strands, and, oh, those quivering flushed lips trying to choke out your name, a plea, anything, but he couldn’t, he just couldn’t, rendered mute by the deafening silence.

He was falling apart.

It was sublime.

Art was worth the pain.

You raised your other hand and cupped his chin.

“Jungkook,” you breathed, hazy and slow.

He moaned, thin and strung out on desperation, not caring about anything anymore, not knowing if there was an end. Ensnared by the moment. Possessed by compliance. You lowered your head. He obediently opened his lips, and his entire body shook uncontrollably, those lovely eyes rolling back into his head, hurriedly swallowing the stream of spit dripping from your tongue, the tips of your fingers caressing the slippery, pulsing, purple-red head of his cock locked in his grip, and now…

Now, the composition was perfect.

It was mere seconds, but at this point Jungkook didn’t have a good grasp on time anymore. Obscene whimpers, blown-out pupils, hardly registering the sound of the foil packaging ripping open, gasping as you tugged his hand away, his eyelashes fluttering as the ghost of your touch rolled down the condom, and then you hiked your skirt up, flicking down your panties.

They slid down your legs, the mere scrap of fabric soaked through.

Your grasped Jungkook’s right shoulder and now he finally seemed to realize what was happening, his eyes widening, but now it was too late, your heat right above the head, your other hand at the base, one knee on the bed.

“N… Noona…?”

You sank down onto his cock.

It was a slightly awkward position, but lust and adrenaline took over as you slowly, carefully bottomed out, not really for him, but for you to truly enjoy what was about to blossom, clenching around his girth and savoring the aching fullness, spying his pained expression from underneath your lashes. Tightened jaw as the wet sleeve choked him from below, and then the visible wave of ecstasy travelling through his body that manifested merely as a meek groan when you rocked your hips, dragging him into the constricting bliss, riding Jungkook on the edge of the hotel bed.

“W-Wai–oh, fuuuuck…”

You did not wait, hooking your leg over his thigh and leaning your knee against the mattress as you fucked him with some effort, but his body responded immediately, thrusting up and into you, and there it was, the flare within your core, intensity finally meeting matched intensity. Your breath stilling in your chest, leaning forward a little more, driving your hips forward, smack, there, fuck, yes, there, and you could see the angle was affecting Jungkook too, the muscles of his neck tense, lifting himself to his hands, and now he was really fucking you back, giving into the compulsion, hot gasp drifting over your neck, and you looked down to glassy brown eyes and shaking lips, those silver lip rings the inviting garnish, and still you resisted, slamming your hips down, slap, wet and tight and hungry for more, more of the thick cock, gripping his inked shoulder so hard that you were leaving even more marks.

Crescents of pain.

It was unbearably hot in the velvet bra top and your miniskirt bunched around your waist, but there was power in that discomfort. A visible inequality that fed the feral and the fervor, drowning you and him in this visceral, depraved lust, both hunting for the high, your hand rising and his hand rising, hips driven forward, harder.

Your hand around his neck.

His grasping your ass, dragging down and hitting you deeper, softly whimpering as you clenched around him.

“Fuck, yes.”

You exhaled hotly over his lips, letting your satisfaction bloom in the carnage of his pride.

“You…”

Bringing Jungkook’s face close to yours by his throat, losing your own breath with your ferocity, your words a husky rasp as you neared your crescendo.

“Inspire me.”

And then you kissed him.

Lips to inflamed lips, feeling the flash of sparks race all over your skin and burn your insides, faster, a bruising rhythm that Jungkook was leading, whining in your mouth as he came, his hips violently shaking, all the while pressing up against you, that strong hand splayed out over your lower back as he took your breath away. Your hand tightening, taking his blood away, and that was it, succumbing to the addictive power, tension snapping, radiating bliss racing through your veins, the brutal punch of orgasm leaving you airless, moaning deeply into his waiting mouth, your inner walls throbbing and viscous juices seeping down his balls, his thighs, sticking to your crotch.

The stench of summer sex soaked through the sheets, creating a large damp spot down the edge of the hotel bed.

You let go of Jungkook’s shoulder and held his trembling face, deepening the kiss and swallowing his raw whimpers. His pining sounds expanded and fluttered in your chest, so pure and so delicious, and more, you needed more, drunk on his taste, enslaved by this passion.

I’ve outdone myself this time.

You sighed into his mouth.

“I hate you.”

Surrounded by used condoms, electric air, and rumpled sheets half-pulled off the hotel bed, Jeon Jungkook gripped your wrist and told you he hated you, breathing hard, laying on his side. Both of you completely naked. You were sitting upright, delicately leaning against pillows and the headboard.

You smiled down at him.

“Oh?”

“W… Why are you… hah, why are you okay and I’m…”

His sweaty black hair was plastered to his forehead.

“Not?” you offered.

Across your body, you felt the bruises of his fingertips and soreness thrumming in your muscles. This network of pain simply curled into the blossom of the afterglow, creating the veining throughout the petals of this satisfying night.

Jungkook’s expression turned from irate to shattered.

You kept your smile but, behind it, hesitancy lurked.

Those dark glass eyes closed beneath you, but he held into your wrist, tattooed fingers squeezing hard.

Breath after breath. Ragged. Injured, but with pleasure. Satisfied, but some part wasn’t. You didn’t have to look into his eyes to know how he was feeling. Bowed, shaking shoulders. Body curling into the sheets, blanket tangled around his legs, the low light of the hotel room casting harsh shadows. He moved closer to you. Holding on for dear life. You could feel the uncontrollable tremors from his hot hand.

“Just…”

His voice so small, cracking under a weight unseen.

“J-Just… just pretend a little… longer…”

Your smile slipped away, like a shadow in the night.

“For me… noona…”

It is the performance that matters.

You looked down at the form of Jeon Jungkook and wondered if you could always be right.

“I’m not pretending,” you said to the flower that had blossomed in your carnage. You reached over and put your hand over his. “This is who I am.”

His fingers relaxed.

You paused.

You looked down again. At Jungkook burying his face into the sheets and the pillows, inhaling the heavy scent of sex that had transpired between you and him, burning it into his memory. Not too close to touch you, but close enough for you to feel the heat from his body, close enough so you couldn’t forget, and his hand was still on your wrist, tenderly caressing the inner tendon. It was a slightly rough touch. Unfamiliar.

For now.

What feeling are you trying to chase?

“Are you obsessed with me or what?” you chuckled, brushing the thought aside.

Stopped.

Jungkook was gazing at you from below. A singular dark brown orb, teary and reflective, the other masked by a tangle of black hair and the white hotel bedding. You had asked the question and the answer was wordless or, rather, simply in that stare alone. Bleeding desire. Helpless passion. Raw want.

You memorized his pained expression.

It was too beautiful not to.

“Would you let me be?”

It was both a rhetorical question and his answer.

Jeon Jungkook was supposed to be a fleeting moment. Supposed to be and, as you kept eye contact, you could feel the fire behind the glass. Some people wanted to watch the world burn, but they didn’t want to hold the match. His hand slipped out of yours and covered your fingers, grasping them tightly, possessively, intensely watching you, burning from your ignited match, burning and asking to be set on fire again, and again, and again, in dark nights and hazy afternoons and early mornings, and your skin prickled under the gaze of Jeon Jungkook, an expression that demanded to be set alight by your flames, for he had dreamed about it for so long and now it was real but you could potentially take it all away and he just wanted you to know…

He couldn’t live without the euphoria of this performance.

Your lips parted to refuse him.

And you couldn’t.

The seconds stretched into minutes. You could be his maker. Rebirthed from the ashes. An artist. You could tell that Jungkook thought very straightforwardly. He did not want to let go, so he didn’t. Simple. It was a pure feeling and it continued even after the first time.

Innocence.

The feeling I’m trying to chase? Ecstasy.

You smirked, sly laughter simmering in your lungs.

“You’re asking for trouble.”

“You’ll have to frame me up on your wall to keep me out of trouble.”

You grinned and shoved Jeon Jungkook into the wall, capturing his lips once more. The familiar press of two metal lip rings in this kiss, the familiar tension radiating from the hard muscle beneath you, the familiar impatient hands finding your ass, pushing up the short hem of your miniskirt and sinking into the soft curve. Time and time again, he showed up under you, dragging you to him, insatiable, craving, begging as if he had never had your pain before, shivering from every kiss, never having enough unless he was falling apart from your touch, all of him feeding the predatory compulsion that you had always tried to hide behind one-night stands and planned hit-and-runs.

All of your flaws aligning with this mood of his.

Jungkook slid down the wall, moaning, rolling his hips into your crotch, completely forgetting he was in somebody else’s house and supposed to be celebrating their birthday.

Thankfully, the music was blaring.

Your hand around his neck and you reached down. He was wearing tighter, black pleather pants today.

Ah, art and torture went hand-in-hand.

You gripped his balls through his pants and he whined in your face, trembling all over as his neglected erection strained above your hand. Lips locking, hot bodies pressed together in the semi-darkness, drinking in his thin exhale and his pleas, even reaching down to palm himself as you tortured his balls, squeezing and pulsing your knuckles around him.

“N-Noona, just f-fuck me, please,” was his breathless whimper into your mouth, lustful moans hitching as you choked him harder, and it was too delicious, too demanding, too beautiful was this graphic display of greedy desire.

Art.

How could you walk away?

“Irresistible, my darling,” you murmured to panicked breath, and you dragged him to you, tasting his smile as his tight white shirt was being tugged out of his pants below the entangled kiss, and he breathed you in, his free hand reaching up to your swimsuit top, scooping out your breasts as you controlled the blood flow to his head and undid the zipper with your other hand, peeling the pleather away.

You grabbed his balls, squeezing.

He gripped his hard cock.

Right.

On.

Cue.

He whined and you shoved the hem of his shirt into his mouth, making him bite down onto it and exposing his bare, muscular torso. Those pleas in those glassy brown orbs, long black hair disheveled and all over his face, and you grinned, the moment on fire, electricity racing over your skin as he toyed with your nipples and jacked himself off, him basking in your force and the addiction of being controlled. So picturesque, a work of art, and so you had to make it yours.

You couldn’t get enough of him.

You raked your nails over his ass and down his thigh and his eyes rolled back in his head, his muffled whisper between you and him, drifting in the dark.

“I love the way you hurt me.”

Music to your ears.

“Hurt me more, noona.”

Art required a certain cruelty, after all.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #jungkook x noona #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook smut

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eiightysixbaby · 1 year ago

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Wait! Rockstar!Eddie. Straddling Eddie before his show helping him put his eyeliner on, your so close to his face as you concentrate on not poking his big brown eyes. His grip on your waist is hard. He can feel you trembling and can see your hands shaking. He moves his hips on purpose making you gasp. Your wearing a skirt on purpose and he knows you don’t have anything else on underneath 😫

don’t do this to me. don’t. do. this. to me. rockstar!eddie is my weakness.

you love any excuse to help him get ready for shows, so it’s a no brainer when he asks if you’ll do his eyeliner for him. the sheer thought of him in smudged black eyeliner gets you worked up, and you don’t do a good job at hiding it. you straddle his lap where he sits on the couch in his dressing room, his big hands immediately coming to hold your waist, rings cold against your scorching skin. your hands fumble with the eyeliner pencil as you take the cap off, almost dropping it on the cushions beneath you.

Eddie almost makes you nervous when you’re so close to him like this, he’s simply too pretty to handle. you don’t know how to control yourself, getting all giddy and shy. his breathing is measured as your gentle hand comes up to draw the waxy black substance along his eyelid. you hold his face still with your other hand, trying so hard not to flinch and poke his eye out when his thumbs rub small circles on your lower back. his eyes are half-lidded when you pull the pencil away momentarily, lashes fluttering as he blinks at you expectantly. he’s so hot like this, dressed in his stage garb, confidence radiating off of him. you smudge the liner with the pads of your fingers just a little bit, perfecting the rockstar look.

you tremble as you move to the other eye, your brain using all of its power to focus on doing Eddie’s makeup rather than the feeling of his hands inching closer to your ass every second. he senses how worked up you are, rolling his hips up into you once you’ve pulled your hand away from his eye for a moment. you gasp, biting your lip between your teeth. the skimpy little skirt you’re wearing is only helping you, the fabric riding so far up your thighs and giving Eddie such easy access if he wants it. he smirks, tilting his chin up to kiss your jawline, nibbling just a little bit. you whine softly, desperately trying to finish the makeup on his other eye.

“what’s got you so worked up, sweetheart? it can’t be little old me, hm?” he purrs, rolling his hips against you once more, as if to punctuate his sentence.

“y-you’re teasing me,” you pout, putting the cap back on the eyeliner and setting it down on the table.

“oh? am I?” he taunts, craning his neck towards you again to kiss your earlobe. he sucks the delicate bit of flesh into his mouth. “I would’ve guessed this is what you wanted… considering that sorry excuse for a skirt you’re wearing,” he continues, his hot breath tickling your ear and giving you goosebumps. “…and considering you’re wearing nothing underneath, I think I would be correct,” his voice is a low rumble, fingers brushing against your bare cunt for only a moment before he draws them away.

you moan, this time grinding yourself against him. you can feel how hard he is, and you grind yourself down once more, letting the outline of his cock create perfect friction where you need it most. he just watches you with a smug smirk plastered on his lips, letting you get yourself off on him. he’s guiding your movements with strong arms and steady hands, groaning when you whimper his name. you know he has to go on stage any minute now, but you don’t really care. let him be late, let him walk on stage with your juices soaking his jeans, hickeys on his neck. he knows you’re close when your cries of his name become repetitive, just Eddie Eddie Eddie over and over, your head thrown back as your clit catches on the fabric of his jeans. eager fans waiting for the band to come onstage shout Eddie Eddie Eddie just the same, and it spurs you on to know that you’re the one that gets to have him.

you completely soak him when you cum, but it doesn’t phase him. he’s sick, and he loves it. he plays his show with soaked black denim clinging to his legs, winking at you when he spots you in the crowd. all he can think about is how good he’s gonna fuck you once the show’s over.

#leah’s got mail 💌#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #eddie munson smut

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argisthebulwark · 2 months ago

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You'll Always Get The Best Of Me

summary: testing out some modern au ideas! gn reader, no gendered pronouns or y/n used. feat: Vilkas, Brynjolf, Farkas warnings: vague allusion to violence in Bryn's, sexually suggestive but not explicit a/n: mafia Bryn 110% inspired by @skyrim-forever <3<3 masterlist

"Is this step absolutely necessary?" Vilkas mutters, the defiant tone of his voice utterly betrayed by the patient way he sits beneath you. Large hands steady your hips when you lean closer, carefully applying the perfect smear of eyeliner over his lid. "Yes." You insist, running a careful thumb along his lash line until it matches his other eye. Your back already aches from being cramped into the tight car but he'd gotten off work late and doors open at 6 so there wasn't time to apply makeup at home. "Finished?" "Nearly." Making a few last minute checks over your own makeup, you clamber off his lap and out of the car. You're a bit taken aback when Vilkas stands at your side, stretching his arms above his head just enough to allow a glimpse of his lower stomach. "You're staring." He comments, adjusting the black shirt to cover his happy trail. He's always been attractive but gods, you had no clue what you were getting yourself into dressing him up for a hardcore concert. Dark jeans show off his muscled legs, chains dangling over an ass usually hidden under thick work pants. One of your favorite band shirts is hardly big enough for his torso and scuffed shoes look far comfier than his hefty boots. When Vilkas offers you his hand, black paint already chipping off nails you'd painted only a few nights before you're eager to grab for it. With his build and a few well placed sidesteps it's fairly easy to get to the barricade. Vilkas' arms rest easily around you when the crowd mills about during opening bands, checking merch or ordering drinks but you're locked in. You've been to enough concerts, you've learned the hard way that getting to the front as soon as possible is your only chance of staying there. He only leaves your side for a few minutes to fetch a drink, easily finding his way back as soon as the line slows down. Vilkas' strong arms steady you against the barricade, bodies swaying and shifting as crowd surfers make their way toward the stage. Somewhere far off you see a hole open in the crowd - a pit's opening up as the main band kicks off their second song but Vilkas keeps it all at bay. His muscled chest rests against your back, deep brown eyes shimmering in the reflective stage lights as he marvels at the musicians. "It's loud." He smirks, lips pressed to your ear. His voice sends shivers down your spine when he hugs you close, one arm raised to keep a crowd surfer from landing on her ass. When he kisses you he tastes like cheap beer and sweat. Your heart thrums in time with the frantic drums resonating throughout the shitty venue. Familiar lyrics fall from your tongue until your voice is thrashed, evening sinking into night as band after band appears on stage. Vilkas' strong arms steady you when it's finally time to file out of the venue. Overhead lights reveal smudged eyeliner and flushed cheeks when he draws you close, easing a bit of pressure from your sore feet. His voice is a little too loud when he tells you he loves you, sharp teeth exposed in a rare smile.

"Let's get this over with," Brynjolf sighs, kneeling before the poor sap struggling against his restraints. You're enraptured, watching Brynjolf's rings glimmer in the white light filtering in through cracked blinds as he knots back his messy hair. "Wait - you don't have to do this, I swear I won't say a word." "I'm not an unreasonable man." The smoothness of his voice betrays what you know lies beneath, a rage simmering dangerously close to the surface. "I heard those filthy things you were sayin' to my partner, no point in lyin' now." "I didn't know." The man pants, pleading eyes finding you. As if you have an ounce of mercy to offer him. "Please, you've gotta believe me - I had no clue who you were." "Eyes on me, lad." Brynjolf shifts, one hand lowering to pluck at his sleeves. Your heart catches when he begins to roll up his sleeves, exposing the deliciously scarred skin of his forearms. The man's eyes bug out of his head though you doubt he's having the same response you are. "You came onto my turf, make advances on my partner, and insult my family in the process?" "No -" "What exactly did he say to you, my love?" "'You're hot enough to do better than those sewer rats'." You quote, enjoying the way his face blanches. His lips flop open uselessly, panicked eyes whirling back to Brynjolf. "Sewer rats." Brynjolf sighs, standing to his full height. You know the black outfit is to fit in with the rest of the Guild, one of the many methods he employs to intimidate anyone daring to go up against the powerful group he's cobbled together, but goddamn it makes him look good. Leather straps bearing holsters for his assortment of weapons are strapped tight, creating a beautiful silhouette at his waist. "What an awful thing to say about my family." Brynjolf's voice is velvety soft, dripping with faux melancholy when he draws a dagger from his side. Skilled fingers flip the blade to and fro, allowing you to enjoy this offensive man's fearful eyes as they track it. "I'm not one to get my hands dirty." He sighs, deep green eyes finding you amongst the shadows. "Lovely, do you mind?" Featherlight fingers pressing a blade into your hand and a swift kiss falling to your cheek. Brynjolf's rings are chilly when his hand curves around your waist and draws you into his side. Brynjolf is the face of the Guild - he's the one making deals and handling recruits, so it's easy enough to let everyone think he's the only Guild Master. Most folks don't know about your shared office or the long hours you spend negotiating deals, that you are the one lurking in the shadows while he acts. The public doesn't need to know about you - his partner in crime, his love, his everything.

3 New Messages from: Farkas💕💪 Your phone nearly vibrates off the nightstand. Half awake and scrambling for the device you swipe furiously at the mess of your hair. With blankets twisted around your waist you force your eyes to focus on the too bright screen, trying to decipher his messages.

8:49 - morning, sleepyhead 9:12 - at the gym, be home by 11 9:13 - One image attachment

Before noon and he's already blessing you with gym pics? Without thinking you're opening the picture, scrubbing at your eyes to get a clear look at him. Occasionally you'll go to the gym with Farkas but you'd been stuck at work until past midnight last night cleaning up someone else's mess - there was no way you'd be doing cardio so early. Gods, you could just eat him up. Farkas' grin is barely in frame of the picture he's sent you, shirt tossed over the bench behind him. The familiar scars and tattoos all look too good in the picture, muscles glistening with sweat. One arm is raised in a stereotypical flex and his sweatpants hang dangerously low on those hips you love so much. Just as you're trying to form a response another image comes through. He's shameless - which is perfect since you're hopelessly addicted to seeing him in this state. One hand holds the pretty pink phone case you'd picked out for him and the other combs back his messy hair. His head is angled back just enough to give you a generous view of his throat and chest, sweat shimmering across his stomach where he reclines against the bench.

10:16 - are u tryign to kill me?

You're struggling to type, too busy staring and the godlike images he's sent you. He has to know how hot he is, right? Flopping back into bed you save them to the ever increasing folder of gym pics he's sent over the years, a happy sigh escaping you.

10: 17 - nope💕 10: 17 - wouldn't mind a second workout when i get home, tho

#writing #skyrim #skyrim x reader #x reader fanfic #brynjolf #farkas #vilkas

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kivedreams · 10 months ago

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CAN'T GET ENOUGH. knj.

pair. idol namjoon x f. reader.

genre. established relationship, long distance, have never said I love you.

warnings. +18, daddy kink, unprotected sex, power imbalance, rough sex, filthy sex, dirty talk, fingering, namjoon is really demanding, lil degradation.

synopsis; you’ve been waiting for me so patiently, I know, I’ll reward you, you little slut! or namjoon has 3 free days from the military service and he decides to enjoy them with you.

word count: 3.5k

A/N: I haven't write a fic in seven years, I hope this lives to the today's standards. kive

It was already sunset, everything felt quiet and lonely in the apartment, music had become a sad thing to play, so enjoying silence had become your main thing the last 3 months, since he had gone, as a foreigner you didn't fully comprehend the concept behind military service, in your country military had never been a big thing, consequences of being an small country that never seem to need it, so the moment that you realize that Namjoon actually had to enlist for around 2 years made a fissure in your heart, you really could not imagine how life was going to be for you, for both of you during that time, will your relationship be able to fight the distance? you had already been dating for over a year and everything felt like a fairytale, sneaking around, going to cafes in the countryside, hiding in your apartments, the sneaky kisses, grabbing hands under the table, and hiding your relationship from everyone else, because it was safer for both of you, it made things fun and exciting, but of course it was sad too, not being able to go around seoul’s streets holding hands, not being able to share pictures of you together, not being able to kiss him whenever you wanted and denying the obvious from everyone, that you were completely in love with Kim Nam Joon.

You knew that it was going to be the result after accepting that personal assistant job, but it was ok, the pay was amazing, the opportunities were amazing, you were going to be working side by side with someone you have already admired for years, so just keeping a lid in your feelings wasn't going to be a hard sacrifice, but two whole years being behind the smart, handsome, and talented men that namjoon was, proved to be way harder than you thought It'll be, of course you got drunk, of course you forgot with who you were with, and of course it ended up with you, namjoon, the empty hall in your building, and you shouting to the world that your boss was the most beautiful men that you have ever seen and of course that it would be a pleasure to have his children, you would have been honored to do so, and the last thing that you remember is namjoon’s laugh and then falling into the darkness.

Next morning, you woke up in your bed, completely tuck in, with you curls in a bonnet, not a single drop of makeup on and a dreadful headache, you felt so bad that you thought you might puke, water was a must, while you walked down to kitchen in your one bedroom studio apartment, that was perfect for you and your cats, nobody could've expected what your eyes saw.

Kim Nam Joon was sat in your living room reading one of the books that you picked up the last time you were in the bookstore, Kim Ji Young born 1982 by Choi Nam-Joo, the shock was visible in your eyes, you didn't know what to do or what to say, you wanted to just roll back to your room and hide there for the next 5 years, why was Namjoon in your living room reading on your brown chair one of your books and drinking coffee from that pretty pink mug you thrifted a while ago? he did not notice your presence until you cat, Komi walked over to you meowing and demanding to be feeded.

He lowered his gaze from the book to look at your completely shocked face. “Good morning Y/N, I knew you were going to sleep till late. I made coffee and breakfast, do you want some?” he said with a little smirk, that did not mean too much for you at the moment.

You were frozen by the idea of having Namjoon in your house, you've been dropped off with him a thousand times, but he had never come in. Once you realize you've been in complete silence for a minute since he asked, you remembered that you had to respond. “Y-yes, I do” you said with a low but strong voice. “Ok, sit down I'll get it for you” he said while standing up, you couldn't sit down without feeding your cats first, you used it as an excuse to go to the bathroom and see the state that you were, bonnet falling up to the side, your bare face that showed how much you drank last night, you quickly washed up your face and fixed the bonnet because it was going to be impossible to do more than that.

Walking with small steps to the kitchen, you said good morning as soon as you saw Namjoon, he smiled at you and said the same, offering you the same pink cup but full of fresh coffee. “How do you feel? Do you have any headaches? I ordered some hangover medicine for you” he said lifting a white bag with the nearest pharmacy logo printed all over it, you could feel the embarrassment in your whole body, grabbing the bag and looking thru its contents, you took the gold colored bottle that you new was going to get rid of any traces of the effect of alcohol in your system. He put a bowl full of rice next to you, making you realize the side dishes that were in the countertop, and while holding two bowls, one that looked it had kimchi on it and another with salted veggies on it Kim NamJoon said,

“So, you'll be honored to have my children?” in a laughing tone, and you knew it was over.

========

That have been a whole year ago and it was still embarrassing for you, but somehow your feelings were not one sided, and thanks to that dumb slip off, you were there now in the apartment that you shared with the man of your dreams, it was lonely without him, but you were stress free and relaxed with your little demons, your cats, exactly what Namjoon wanted. When he suggested that it would be better for you to move in with him, the idea made you nervous but in the good way, moving together was an important step in your relationship. It made clear that Namjoon was taking the relationship as serious as you were, and honestly everything was better and easier.

You heard the door code and it spook you, because only you, Namjoon, the cleaning lady and maybe Jin had it, walking down the hallway to the door you were kind of scared, you knew it wasn't a thread because the security wouldn't let anybody come in, and the moment that the door opened you heart sank in surprised and happiness, there he was dressed in his military gear, carrying a small bag with his left hand, looking at you with those fiery eyes, you could not keep it to yourself so you left the scream out.

“Omg, omg omg! Nam!” you screamed while running close to him, he caught you up dropping his bag to the floor and lifting you closer, making it seem like there wasn't a height difference, and there it was that wood, forest scent that gave you peace, the scent of the man that had ingrained himself in your heart, it made you feel at home, you started kissing his whole face, while loading him with a million questions on the why and the how.

He let out a small laugh, walking with you on top to the entrance.

“They gave us three rest days'' he said, kissing you back, you feel his warm soft lips on top of yours, redirecting the kiss, your body touching the wall, while he slowly lets you on the floor wrapping his big hands around your waist.

“I missed you so much Y/N, in a desperate type of way” kiss “You look so beautiful, I'm so happy to see you” he whispered in your ear, kiss “How have my baby been?” he asked in that low musky voice that drove you crazy, you wrapped your hands around his neck, asking him to lift you to his face, and he did, as always.

“I have been missing you since day one, sleeping on your side of the bed, even though it doesn't smell like you anymore” you replied kissing him back with the same amount of passion and intensity “how are you babe?”

“Right now, I am marvelous, in front of heaven's doors you could say” he looked at you with those intense eyes, and that happy puppy face, letting you on the floor, moving to the bench at the entrance to remove the big black military boots that made him look even taller.

“I genuinely cannot believe that you're here, in front of me” you said sitting next to him.

“I am baby, here in front of you” he replied, kissing your forehead. “ and if it were for me I'll never leave”

========

And there you were lying down, cuddling on the sofa, watching a random entertainment show that was on, both of you way to happy after making dinner together. You were trying to get even closer to him, even when your whole body was already on top of him, and he had you wrapped in his arms, it was never enough.

“Are you cold?” he asked, pulling you closer. You moved your body resting your face in his chest “No, I just want to be closer” you replied hugging him, he laughed, you feel the vibration of his body in yours. “It's never enough for you, is it?” he sat down carrying you up.

“You know it is not” you said sitting on top of him kissing his neck. He put his hands on your thighs, you know how much he loves them, you're sure that they are now bigger since you've put on some weight due to stress eating this few months, between being ‘jobless’ and without him, cooking had become your comfort zone; you feel the way he's grabbing you, more aggressively by the minute, you like it, like you always do.

He enjoys your body until you let a small moan slip next to his ears, you feel how his whole body tense up, Namjoon moves his mouth to your neck whispering “ You liked that?” in a deep voice, he was turned on, and you were too.

“Y-yes” you replied in a moan while he slid his hands through the short pajama pants that you should have not been wearing during winter.

His hands started to wander around your waist, pulling the white cardigan out of you, letting wet kisses all around your neck, one of his hands left you waist, grabbing one of your breast he started stroking it, making you let out another moan, he knew where all your bottoms where and he started pressing them on, you'll be lying if you don't admit how horny you have been this months without him, you wanted it so bad, so desperately, you need it. He stopped stroking your breast over the blouse that you had, to rip it from your body.

“I want to fuck you so hard Y/N, you’ve been waiting for me so patiently, I know, I’ll reward you, you little slut! ” He said passing his hand through your chest, he let a wet kiss on your neck and moved his mouth to your left breast placing his tongue on your nipple playing with it.

You let a moan out and heard a chuckle coming from his mouth, and then he started sucking on you tit while keeping one of his hands on your neck, there he was, he loved taking control of you, you could feel how his hand was holding you tightly, reminding you who you were from. He loved to know that he owns you, and that you gladly agree.

He freed your neck and started playing with your other tit, your head falling into his neck moaning his name, his thick long cock rising up in his joggers you could feel it brushing in your leg, it was making you lose your mind, Namjoon loved when you please him, and you loved to please him, your hand reached to the border of his pants, touching his hard erection through the fabric, he moaned.

“This is how happy I am to see you” he said standing up with you on top, his voice was deep and his eyes were filled with desire, he sat you down on the edge of the couch removing your shorts and panties together.

“I love how wet you are, tell me how much you want it” he said taking a step back to look at you, dripping wet, shining with sweat “I want to always see you like this, desperately waiting for me to eat you up, tell me Y/N, do you want it? call for it”

“Y-yes, Nam I want it!” you beg through desperate breaths, trying to catch your breath, to breathe at a normal pace.

“Wrong Y/N” he said loud and demanding “What's my name?” he walked up to you, taking both your hands, kneeling you down in front of the couch, resting you face in it, he put his big hand in the center of your back bending you down even more “I’m going to finger you until you remember what's my name, you whore!”

He slapped your cheek making you moan, his hands were moving around your whole body, like if he was tasting you, his right hand moved just to the top of you venus mount, opening you up with his long fingers, Namjoon started to play with your clitoris, making you moan and beg for his dick, but he wasn't going to give it to you, until you give him what he wanted.

“Daddy please!” you moaned, exactly what he wanted to hear.

“That's my baby, tell daddy what you want, and he’ll give it to you” he said in your ears, kissing your neck, his kisses moving down to your back, while he put a finger inside of you. “Is this what you want baby, talk to me” he said putting another finger inside.

“I want-t you inside, inside of me daddy”

“Who am I to deny your wishes” he said in a chuckle “ Stand up for me baby” he demanded so you did, his clothes were already on the floor, and when you stood up, you could see his dick in full bloom, he sat down on the couch making you sat on top of him, your back in his chest, you could feel how the military training had pay its fruits, he took your breasts in his hands, caressing your nipples “Look down honey, look how wet your pussy is, begging to be fucked”

All you could see was his dick touching you. You grabbed it with both hands pumping it up, seeing his shiny tip, desperate for it to be inside of you, the action well received with his moans and hard breathes.

“Damn baby, you never hesitate, c’mon put it inside of you! ” he teased.

You lifted up your body, him helping you with his hands now on your thighs, you used you hands to drive his long shiny cock to your entrance, feeling the tip inside of you, driving it slower, but of course Namjoon would not let you have that, he moved his hands making you whole body fall in his cock, it opening you up, the stretch hitting you up just where you need it, driving you crazy the way that you could feel it completely filling you up. He stayed there for a second waiting on you, making sure that you were ok.

“M-move, please move!” you beg in a whisper, he gave it to you.

Namjoon hugged your body, lifting you while moving himself up and down, you heard him moaning and panting, and that made you even more aroused, he was stretching you up, giving you what you wanted, his dick.

3 months without seeing him and getting his touch, how much you missed him

made you feel insane, but now he was here showing you that he was going insane too without your body close to him, it was joyful having you on top of him.

Namjoon started to touch your clit with two of his fingers, you were so wet for him, and he was enjoying it to the fullest, he could feel how close you were, he wasn't going to last longer either.

And suddenly he pulls out, making you moan in disbelief

“why?!” you screamed

“ I want to see your face when you come for me”

He turned you around, like a rag doll, you forgot how strong Namjoon was, especially when he wanted you in a specific place.

“C’mon sit on it” he said grabbing his dick, you did not hesitate, and sat on it immediately

“D-daddy!”

He kissed you, deeply,his tongue exploring your mouth, he grabbed your ass with both of his hands making the pace even more aggressive, you were about to cum, you felt it, breaking the kiss, feeling the lack of air and the heat in the room. Your moans louder by the second.

“Come for daddy baby, come” he whispered in your ears with his deep voice, and that was it his sucked your nipple while you came making you a mess of moans and deep breaths, orgasm hitted you high, and you could feel him still using your body to get to his own climax.

“I'm coming inside baby” his voice even deeper, and you wanted it.

“Yes daddy, cum inside of me” you moaned for him.

His thick load filling you up, the warmth of his cum heating you up from inside, his moans drive you crazy making you cum again with him, a mix of moans and hard breaths, inhale, exhale, fill the room, you fell on top of him trying to catch your breath.

“That was intense, I am out of words” you whispered hugging him

“Indeed” he said, caressing your lower back. “ I love you Y/N”

He stand up with on top, wearing a shocked expression on your face it was the first time he ever said it, it caught you by surprise, Namjoon trust issues were as clear as the day, so he never fully open up about his feelings, and you let him, you understood that it would take time, for him to be completely open to you, it was ok you were there for him and that was the best way to prove him that he could trust you with his feelings, him saying I love you market a new path in you relationship.

Before you could realize it, you were already in the bathroom Namjoon, pulling out of you letting you slowly on the floor. The mess between your legs demanded to be cleaned, he kissed your shoulder and said “ Want to take a bath?” you nod, still in disbelief of what has happened.

Namjoon prepared the bath for the both of you, using the bath salts that you loved, you were still there standing up in front of the mirror, seeing him move through it, making sure the water was warm enough lighting up the candles, he got close to you hugging you from the back “Lets rinse up first, ok?” you felt the doubt in his voice, the nervousness in his system, you could only nod. He moved you to the shower, tying up your hair in a bun, he knew wetting your hair at this time meant a test, you feel the water going in your skin, the warmth felt good.

“Ok, you're clean baby, come” he said, driving you out of the water to the bath.

You could see the stars through the windows of the bathroom, there you were resting on his chest, hearing his calm breath, feeling his hands on your ways, the bubbles covering your bodies,the burning smell of the candles, and the warmth embracing both of you.

“Nam” you said in a whisper.

“Yes babe” he said, taking your hand.

“I love you too”

You heard him exhale deeply, meaning relief, “I was scared, though I said it too soon” he said, moving your body so you could face him.

“I wasn't expecting it so I got surprised, sorry”

“Nothing to be sorry for babe” he said, giving you a kiss, it was sweet and soft, he was telling you how much he loved you. You broke the kiss.

“Can you say it again? I want to hear it more” you said smiling, your body could not keep the amount of happiness going through your body.

“I love you Y/N” he whispered, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer for a kiss, and there you knew he was going to make love to you again, because it was never enough with you two.

===============================================

with love kive <3

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